Chapter 15: Setting Out

Silvio did not disappoint John. In just five days, he brought a group of mercenaries from Brittany to John. The mercenaries from Flanders had also just arrived. Together with the Norman knights whom John had recruited, these three groups collided, creating a nostalgic beauty that spanned across time.

Over a hundred years ago, the Conqueror William had led such a force, violently sweeping into England and displacing all the Anglo-Saxon nobles. Now, a similar situation was unfolding before John.

The ships needed for the expedition were also ready. Now, everyone was waiting for John's orders.

"Your Highness, here is the inventory list we have prepared," Silvio respectfully approached John and handed him the freshly organized list.

The list meticulously detailed a variety of supplies, including wheat, oats, beer, wine, firewood, as well as strategic supplies such as horses, armor, and weapons.

As John was reviewing the list, a man with a tall hat approached him and said in a deep voice, "Your Highness, Bletong reporting to you."

"Bletong..." John looked puzzled. "How did you come up with that name? Are you Breton? Don't you have your own name?"

Indeed, Bletong meant "Breton" or "of Brittany."

The man named Bletong paused for a moment, then replied, "Of course, I do. My name is Bérenger, but they all call me Bletong. Bérenger Bletong."

"Very well," John reluctantly nodded, accepting the explanation. "Then, have you seen the leader of the Flemish mercenaries?"

"He's over there," Bletong pointed to a lean man drinking beer with the soldiers, exuding a rogue vibe.

"If he wants to enjoy himself with the soldiers, let him," John dismissed him and continued to focus on the list in his hand.

There were eighty-seven knights accompanying John on the expedition, with the remaining twenty-nine knights paying a shield tax of one pound each for not coming. These knights were primarily in service to the Church, which John understood; their main role was as bodyguards, not fighters.

John himself brought twenty-one knights and eighty attendants, totaling a formidable fighting force of one hundred.

In addition, there were approximately one hundred and thirty-three freelance knights and attendants from various places. These knights did not own land and mostly came from knightly families, but as non-firstborn sons, they had to choose to make their own way.

The Flemish and Breton mercenaries were seasoned professionals, each group comprising two hundred men. Additionally, there were three hundred and fifty-four soldiers from Lancaster and local militia from surrounding areas.

In total, John commanded one hundred and one royal guards, over two hundred knights, and more than seven hundred and fifty soldiers. It was enough.

By the time they reached Watford, along with the local militia and reinforcements from Gloucester, the combined force would surely meet their initial expectations.

"Your Highness," Silvio cautiously asked.

John handed the inventory list to Silvio and said with satisfaction, "Well done. We can set out now."

With that, John stood up. The royal guards beside him also rose, following their prince. At the temporarily expanded dock, eight ships swayed in the waves.

"The wind is favorable now, Your Highness!" the captain shouted loudly from the shore to John.

"Then, prepare to depart!" John shouted back in response.

At John's command, the soldiers who had been resting on the ground stood up and began loading supplies onto the ships. The horses of the knights neighed, expressing their fear of the sea in their own way.

The attendants soothed the horses, while the knights yelled at them, fearing that the attendants would inadvertently injure the horses due to carelessness.

Sailors stood on the shore, warming up and also watching the soldiers' clumsy actions, as if they were enjoying a show.

Little Roches looked at the scene and said, "This place is really chaotic."

John shook his head helplessly. In his opinion, it was chaotic, but as long as things were handled properly, it was fine. There were at least thousands of people here, and John couldn't manage them all.

In fact, the discipline of most armies was not so strict, even after entering the modern era. Many armies still appeared chaotic.

As long as the army can function, it's already considered a good army. John can't demand too much. Especially in the future, there will be situations like burning, killing, and looting, which are the traditional skills of armies in this era, and they must be experienced.

About looting, there's something to be mentioned here. In the Middle Ages, people were keen on war because it could bring huge profits, almost like making a killing. In this era, a sword could be exchanged for nearly three cows. If an ordinary person captured a sword on the battlefield, it would already be a windfall. If they could capture a knight, strip off their equipment, and demand a large ransom, they could become rich overnight.

And more deviously, they could resell the equipment back to the knight and make them pay again, leaving them with nothing. That's why it was fashionable in this era to capture knights rather than kill them outright.

Such huge profits naturally attracted countless people to join the war. The knights following John are also here for this reason. They can't support their families on their land alone. So, everyone in this era is actually very poor, and everyone is struggling to survive and make a living, even the knights.

But not John, he just has to sit here and watch these people rush around getting things onto the ship. He is a prince, after all.

John watched as the soldiers loaded supplies and all the equipment onto the ship. Finally, leisurely and under the gaze of all the soldiers, he boarded the largest ship.

There was a small room prepared for John on the ship. Although small and simple, compared to the accommodations of the other soldiers on the ship, it was already a luxurious cabin. Most of the other soldiers were huddled together, their living conditions akin to those of slaves.

In such crowded conditions, the soldiers cursed at each other. In the cabin filled with the stench of livestock dung, sweat, and the salty smell of seawater, they swayed and set off toward Ireland.

No one knew what this adventure would bring, perhaps glory and wealth, or perhaps death.

The Atlantic breeze brushed over the deck, fluttering the sails and pushing the chubby transport ship forward.

The early spring Atlantic was not calm; the restless waves were like the hearts of the people on the ship, turbulent and surging.