Game of Thrones: From a deserter to a high-ranking official

Chapter 102 Jules: Anyone can doubt themselves, but the commander cannot!

"Vito!" Tiberius summoned several of Jules's elders together and gave them various assignments.

"What is it, Tiberius?" Vito asked curiously.

"Take Calvin and a few skilled horse connoisseurs from the knightly ranks and prepare to go to the market to buy horses and mules," Tiberius said.

"Go to the accounting office to get the money! My uncle said, don't buy a tall, big horse, buy one that can traverse mountains and rivers, and carry heavy loads!"

"Tsk, Tiberius, kid." Calvin scoffed.

"Right now, all kinds of horses are in high demand on the market; you might not be able to buy one even if you have the money! Go ask the boss if, as a last resort, we can use the ponies and donkeys that merchants use to carry goods. If that's possible, it'll be very easy!"

"Alright, I'll go ask!" Tiberius waved his hand, then looked at Old Tom and "Silver Hammer" Halwin.

"The boss said he needs weapons and medicine. You two go and get them!"

"No problem, Tiberius." Old Tom grinned, revealing his teeth stained yellow with alcohol.

"It's definitely going to be taken care of perfectly for you! Harwin used to be a blacksmith, so he's an expert when it comes to weapons!"

"Silver Hammer" Halwin chuckled, scratching his potato-like head.

"Lezapo!" Tiberius looked at the Lightning Corps logistics officer sitting rather reservedly in the corner.

"I'll leave the food to you. You have more connections, so can you find a supplier that's both cheap and of good quality?" Tiberius asked.

Lezapo knew this was the first major task he had undertaken in the Lightning Legion, and he had to get it done.

Lezapo immediately stood up and then said.

"No problem, leave it to me! I know several manor owners are worried about not being able to sell their grain at a good price because they didn't get the city-state's military supply contract!"

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The journey north was not smooth, and the gloomy sky finally brewed into a torrential downpour.

The procession moved silently along the muddy road, the heavy footsteps and the sound of wheels sinking into the mud mingling with the sound of rain, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

Tiberius Moder reined in his horse and looked at the caravan struggling through the rain like a weary python, and an unprecedented sense of heaviness gripped him.

He spurred his horse closer to Jules, who was also standing solemnly in the rain. Rain streamed down his cheeks, indistinguishable between rain and cold sweat. His voice was a little dry as he asked the question that had been lingering in his mind for so long:

"Uncle...can we really...win?"

He thought of the unknown journey north, the potential shortage of supplies, and the powerful shadow of the Valantis.

Tiberius's knuckles turned white from gripping the reins so tightly that the rain blurred his vision, but he could clearly feel Jules's burning gaze.

"You fucking command three thousand lives now!" Jules turned his head sharply, rain streaming down his resolute face, his eyes flashing like lightning. Without warning, he lashed Tiberius's horse's rump with his whip!

The warhorse was startled, reared up with a neigh, and Tiberius held on tightly to the reins to avoid being thrown off.

Jules' roar, like muffled thunder, rolled across the pouring rain, deafening everyone: "You have no right to ask 'Will we win?' You can only win! You must win!"

Jules spurred his horse closer, almost face to face with Tiberius, and lowered his voice, but his words struck Tiberius's heart more densely than raindrops.

"Listen, kid! Just like you said—the Valantis must think we're finished, stuck in our turtle shells in the flank corridor waiting to die! They'd never imagine we're here, this sharp knife, daring to stab them in the flank at this crucial moment! Your analysis is correct! Our assessment of the situation is correct! We can win!"

He sneered, rain streaming down his face: "Look around you! That old killer Vito, that young master Lisanro, those old bastards Habro and Dmitri, and that scared-out-of-touch Lezapo who has no choice but to fight..."

"Even Governor Lisandro of Ries, the patriarch of the Hein family, now all think you're a genius with flawless strategies! They think you can lead them to survival and victory!"

Jules' voice carried an almost cruel encouragement: "Just this 'belief that you can lead them to victory,' this fighting spirit alone is worth half an army! So, tell me, what will we do?!"

Jules took a deep breath and roared with all his might, "We will win! We will rout the Valantis! We will achieve final victory! There is no doubt about it!"

"But what if..." Tiberius couldn't help but voice his worst fears.

"What if the Valantis have more troops in the north than we think? What if their commander anticipated our intentions and, instead of attacking the flank corridor, reached the upper reaches ahead of us—"

"No ifs!!" Jules interrupted him rudely, his voice resolute and brooking no argument. "Don't talk about ifs, maybes! We'll just stick to your plan to the end!"

"Remember, Tiberius, in the army, anyone can be doubted, anyone can waver, anyone can fear what the next step will bring... except the commander himself!"

"No matter the time, no matter what you face, the commander must trust his own judgment! You must firmly believe—you can win! And win decisively!"

At the rear of the column, Habro wiped the rain from his face, watching the brief but intense exchange between Jules and Tiberius, especially Jules' sudden whip strike. He nudged Vito beside him and whispered:

"Hey, Vito, did that brat Lightning get a really bad scolding from his uncle just now? Judging from the way Commander Jules was acting, it looked like he was going to devour him alive."

Vito grinned, rain streaming down his messy beard.

He shook his head dismissively and chuckled.

"Scolding? That's the boss giving him a wake-up call! The kid is good at everything, except sometimes he doesn't fully trust his own judgment, but when he analyzes things, he's always logical and well-reasoned... Actually, if you ask me, his decisions can really lead everyone to victory."

He patted the crossbow at his waist, his tone carrying an almost blind certainty: "Don't you think about it? From Bloodwave Cape to Stone Raven Town, and now this northward journey, has this kid ever missed a single plan? If he says he can win, then he definitely can! I'm betting my old bones on him!"

Looking at Vito's matter-of-fact expression, and then at the young figure who had straightened his back and was riding forward again through the rain, Habrol's slight unease was strangely calmed down.

He muttered, "Damn... that seems to be true. This Lightning Kid is really weird!" He then quickened his pace and caught up with the marching column.

What Tiberius didn't know was that it was actually his thirteenth birthday.

At thirteen years old, she is now responsible for the lives of thousands.