Rondoba Barbareg rode on his horse, biting on his hard pray.

Because there is no water, the salty dried meat is very difficult to swallow, although it has been chewed as much as possible.

It's been 2 days since he retreated from Vicenza, and he doesn't know what happened after that because he lost contact with Venice.

From the initial dissatisfaction to the fate of the present, some of the officers who opposed his retreat have now become much more silent.

But little Babareg knew that this was only temporary, that those who opposed him were just waiting for an opportunity, and that perhaps the next minute a reason that popped up would be the trigger for those people to break openly with him.

There were generally two types of officers in the Venetian army.

One is the mercenaries who are purely paid for their lives, although these people should be considered Venetians because they have served Venice all year round, but they are only interested in money, and never get involved in other things.

On the other hand, the Venetian nobility and commoners, many of whom regarded their battlefield experience as capital for their future political careers, and the successive Venetian governors were willing to recruit talents for their faction from those officers who had great influence in the army.

So there are not many of those officers who want to bring down Baba Reg Jr., who didn't dare to act rashly because he was a commander, but now the opportunity seems to have come.

The north of Italy is not all fertile land, with high-yield fertile fields and a wide network of vertical and horizontal waters, Trotino is arid and barren in the north because of the complex terrain.

Although there are two large rivers in the area, they are separated by several hilly areas that run southward, making it difficult to get to traffic in many parts of the area due to the lack of interconnected rivers.

Moreover, most of these hills are due to local geological reasons, the land is dry and hard or even gravel, not only is it not suitable for long-term travelers to pass through, but it is often impossible to find a well when walking far away.

Rondoba Barbarig swallowed hard, his lips were about to crack, and in this June weather, the sun above his head seemed to scorch people, and the ground beneath his feet was rising with a wave of heat, as if it would erupt at any moment.

Londoba Barbareg knew that if he could not find a place with a water source, the officers and soldiers might make trouble, but he had the impression that it would be a long way before there would be a village.

There was the sound of horses' hooves coming from behind, and Rondolba Barbareg looked back slightly, and he saw several officers running towards him, and he glanced at the people around him to be careful, and at the same time he pinched the hilt of his sword, and prepared himself.

As if sensing the strangeness of the atmosphere, some nearby soldiers gave way to the distance.

"It looks like even the soldiers know what's going on." Londoba Barbareg looked at the officers who were already approaching, and said sarcastically, "I've been waiting for you, but I'm a little curious how you got here and decided to do it." ”

"Give up, Barbaregg, you're done."

A leading officer obviously didn't want to waste time, they were indeed waiting for this opportunity, but it was not so easy to get the mercenary officers not to intervene, so they waited until everyone was already exhausted and desperate before making an offer to forcibly remove Barbarig's command.

The mercenary officers were silent, and it was clear that they did not want to get involved in these tricks with the Venetians, but rather had the attitude of listening to whoever wins.

"Are you sure you want to rebel?"

"This is not a rebellion, it is to correct the mistakes and even crimes you have committed," another officer stood up, "You gave up on rescuing Venice before, and now you have escaped because of cowardice, and you have brought everyone to such a bad place, you ......"

"Poof~"

A black shadow flashed suddenly, the tail of the crossbow arrow still trembled, but the sharp tip of the arrow was bloodshot from the back of the officer's neck.

The man couldn't help but tremble, and he wanted to reach out to touch his neck, but his hand hung down weakly halfway up, and his body fell straight down.

The officers were taken aback, they drew their swords one after another, and some of them even beckoned the soldiers who followed them to prepare to make a move, but then they found that they had already been surrounded.

The soldiers who seemed to be hiding from afar before didn't know when they had completely surrounded them, and some of the men who followed them had been quietly disarmed.

"Do you really think I'm going to wait for you to find me, or do you think that I've been doing nothing in the army all these years, and if that's the case, why would my uncle tolerate me staying in the army," Rondoba Barbareg walked up to the lead officer and reached out to pat him on the cheek, "I know you've been trying to trouble me, but you'll be disappointed to see that the Barbareg family will continue to go strong, and one day I'll become governor, and then you'll all have to kneel down and salute me." ”

After saying that, Barbareg took two steps back and looked at these dejected officers: "Lock them all up for me, charges, conspiracy and rebellion." ”

Like Lombardy and Veneto, Trotino has a large city.

It is the center of the entire Trotino region, which was built centuries ago to defend against the barbarians of the north and is now the liveliest place in Trotino.

This is Trento, an ancient northern city with little character.

Due to its poor transport profile, the only thing that stands out to Lombardy is its large vineyard area, which is also the northernmost wine-growing region in Italy.

Further north, there is a large area of mountainous area that is part of the Alps.

The small but historic city of Trento is a place where you can see the fortresses and walls left over from the Roman era against barbarians, and many of the villages near the city still have traces of the early days of Roman village society.

For example, the well that Rondoba Barbareg is looking at right now is.

The largest well in the village was built in a clearing in the middle of the village, enclosed by a sparse wooden railing, with entrances to the village in all directions.

Walking into this open space is like walking into the Colosseum of ancient Rome, and the feeling of being peeped at from all sides is very strong.

Rondolba Barbarig walked to the well, took the wooden spoon handed by the soldier, and took a sip from his head.

The cold well water poured down his throat, and at that moment, in addition to comfort, it seemed that he would break his body.

Little Babaregg, who seemed to have finally come back to life, let out a comfortable moan, and then beckoned the soldier to call the village chief, who was already waiting not far away.

"I'm sorry, my lord, they said they hadn't heard anything about the Emperor's army."

The soldier's report surprised little Babarig, who looked at the village chief standing nearby, apparently trying to learn more from him.

"We haven't heard anything about the lord," the village chief shook his head, "we just pay our taxes on time, the lord's taxes, the church's taxes, and God's knows whose taxes, but we really haven't heard about the army." ”

"Didn't the Marquis of Trotino send men to collect money for his army?"

Barbareg Jr. frowned and asked, although Venice and Maximian had been at odds for many years, they had a rare unanimity of opinion on the matter of dealing with the Roman Thesians.

This, of course, also affected the pro-Austrian Marquis of Trotino.

"This is a levy," said the village chief, who had just relieved little Babarig, and then he continued, "but this is the most infuriating thing, for the marquis's tax collector took the grain and wine, and did not see any movement from his army. ”

Little Barbarig showed a slightly stunned expression, he had thought that the emperor's army might just be slow to move as usual, but the Marquis of Trotino should have been prepared, and even sent troops to Lombardy.

But now things seemed to be quite different from what he had thought, and the Austrians were nowhere to be seen, and the Marquis of Trotino, who was a vassal of Maximian, did not look like he was going to war at all, which made little Barbarig suddenly feel that perhaps Venice was too concerned about Milan and had neglected something from the beginning.

Vienna is even more beautiful in June, and although the city neglected its proper beauty and comfort due to its initial focus on its role as a military fortress, after so many years of expansion, Vienna has gradually become a dazzling pearl in the middle of Europe.

On the second floor of the fourth wing to the east of Hoffmann Palace, an officer is sitting on a bench by the pillar and napping.

The muffled snoring of his nose like a pig's meow made everyone who passed by frown, and the smell of his body drew people away from him.

An attendant approached, and he frowned, then walked up to the officer in disgust and rudely shoved him on the shoulder.

His body shook suddenly, and the officer immediately woke up, first at the squire standing in front of him, then quickly at the sides, and then quickly at the sides, and then came to his senses and remembered where he was.

"I'm sorry." The officer scratched his messy hair.

"Come with me, Your Majesty wants to see you." The squire turned and walked away.

The officer hastened to follow, his eyes constantly looking around.

Because he liked the view of the lake in the distance, Maximian always stayed in the room on the east side when he was in the Hoffmann Palace.

One of the rooms in the fourth wing was his favorite.

This room is large, with a full row of windows facing Lake Wazen, which adjoins the Hoffmann Palace.

In the summer, when all the windows are opened, the cool lake breeze fills the room, and the cozy feeling is very pleasant.

However, Maximian was not in a very good mood now, and he looked at the rude-looking soldier standing in front of him and wrinkled his eyebrows deeply.

However, his unhappiness was not because of this sloppy appearance and the faint smell of sweat on his body, but the news he brought.

"You mean, your general told you to report to me that he has no way to hold Milan, right?"

Maximian asked the officer opposite him with a gloomy face: "Tell me what makes you think that even if you bring me such bad news, I will not immediately order someone to cut off your head?" ”

The officer shrugged his shoulders and didn't seem to care much about the emperor's intimidation.

"Your Majesty, we are soldiers, you send us to rob, fight or call it anything, we will do what you order, but if we can't do it, it's useless for you to really cut off my head."

The officer grumbled nonchalantly.

"We have no army, no weapons, food and wine, but those things will not help us to hold the city, and the Milanese hate us, and the only thing we are glad to have is that they also hate the French, otherwise they would have spoken out against us."

The officer babbled on until Maximian interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

"Tell me, do your generals think Milan can't hold it as much as you do?"

"This is actually what all of us think, I mean, apart from ourselves, the Milanese think so, so they have begun to ask us for their debts, and those who usually owe money to taverns and brothels are being chased all day long to collect debts, and just before I leave, the tailor is asking my general for the wages he owes before."

Maximian listened calmly, he was not unaware that the situation in Milan was very bad, since the Roman army of Thescia eliminated the Lone Count of Graz outside the outskirts of Parma, Milan was actually an almost completely undefended isolated city.

The fact that the Romantesians had not yet captured Milan was not so much a tactical reason as a result outside the battlefield.

Maximian didn't fail to guess Alexander's purpose, but he was helpless to find that even though he had insight into the enemy's conspiracy, he still had to stare at Milan.

The French were probably waiting for news from Louis XII at this time, and once the French king gave the order to occupy Milan, the French army, which had been coveting it for a long time, would not let go of this good opportunity.

But should the Duke of Rome and Thesia wait to take advantage?

Maximian suddenly remembered his predecessor.

Kotschach was very active in Vienna, he visited the nobles, chatted with them, ate and hunted with them, and then the nobles would often come to him after a short time.

They asked him to stop stiffening relations with Rometesia, or at least with the trade alliances, and some even suggested that instead of being an enemy of someone who could benefit them, they would simply establish a new relationship with the Romantesias.

But Maximian, of course, would not be moved by these words, for him the Duke of Rome Thesia was his great enemy, especially at the thought that the man actually tried to covet the crown of Iberia, Maximian felt unbearable.

Because of this, despite the frequent activities of Bohemia and Wallachia in Hungary, he remained unmoved, and even when Kotschach offered to provide him with funds for the expansion of Vienna, he did not reply easily.

But now he found himself unable not to react.

It is clear that he had a strong sense of defeatism in the Italian army.

From the aristocratic generals down to the rank-and-file soldiers, they thought they were running out of options, and perhaps some were already considering whether they should surrender to the first enemy to appear before them.

This was unbearable for Maximian, and he had to find a way to stop the signs that could lead to a complete spiral of control in Italy.

"You have made a great impression on me," said Maximian to the officer, "so I have decided to appoint you my flag bearer in Milan, and now your task is to bring my flag back to Milan, and then tell your general that I will send an army to support him, and Milan must not be lost, this is the Emperor's order!" ”

Maximian's roar reached the hallway, and a minister who had just walked over clutched a document in his hand and hesitated.

It was a report that had just arrived from Hungary that the Wallachian army had recently captured the city of Pelape in southern Hungary.