When Jerome Bonaparte received another letter from Augusta sent from Paris, he made up his mind to continue his performance without interfering with the Expeditionary Army General Staff’s military deployments.

However, occasionally he would also propose some of his own ideas, such as: setting up a railway between Kamish Port and Sevastopol to make transportation more convenient; dispatching naval forces to bombard the Odessa region; abolishing the serfdom system in the Crimea region; the army should also establish its own internal newspaper, for the circulation among soldiers...

In order to make their boss look good, the General Staff did modify and implement a small portion of Jerome Bonaparte’s plans to a certain extent.

The small railway from Kamish Port to Sevastopol was officially included in the General Staff’s plans.

The serfs in the Sevastopol area were similarly abolished by France in the capacity of liberators, with some of the Slav population cheering, while another part of the Slav population fell into confusion.

Thus, Jerome Bonaparte and the General Staff each performed their respective duties, and the entire General Staff did not fall into a command level chaos because of Jerome Bonaparte’s arrival.

England, Turkey, and Russia relaxed as they discovered that the French General Staff continued to orderly construct defensive fortifications and review troops.

The entire Allied Forces still advanced according to the original plan.

However, the Russian Imperial Army stationed in the fortress beside the Perekop Strait, more than a hundred kilometers away from Sevastopol, were not as comfortable as the Allied Forces. Ivanov Gorchakov, who had been the general commander of the Russian Imperial Army for over three months, sat on a chair, looking worriedly at the supply list in his hand.

Standing opposite him was the bureaucrat responsible for escorting logistics from the capital of Odessa, who at this moment revealed an impatient look on his face as well. Though not part of the Russian Imperial Army, he was being punished to stand like a soldier, which to him was an insult.

Time passed by the minute and the second, and the long wait finally made the Odessa bureaucrat lose his patience. Belonging to the capital of Odessa, he fearlessly spoke to Commander Gorchakov of the Crimea Imperial Army: "Commander Gorchakov, can you please sign the list quickly? I need to take these things back to Odessa to report!"

"Sign?" The veins on Commander Gorchakov’s forehead suddenly popped out. Clenching his teeth, he shouted at the bureaucrat in front of him, "The supplies and personnel you provided are not even half of what I requested! Tell me, how am I to sign?"

"Commander, the supplies you have in your hand have already been scraped out from the crevices of Odessa’s teeth to give to you! Odessa has its own difficulties! Please have a little understanding of us! Surely, you wouldn’t expect us to hand over our own rations to you!" said the Odessa bureaucrat, slightly deflated, lowering his posture to argue with Gorchakov.

"Understand you?" Gorchakov snorted coldly, mocking at the bureaucrat, "I should understand you, but who will understand me! My army is about to head to the front line. You see how much food you have delivered over this time! I have a force of 260,000 men under me, not 20,000! Who are you trying to fool with this amount of grain?

Odessa is the most important granary for the entire Southern Front, yet you’ve only provided this little food!"

"Commander, it is true that Odessa is the important granary of the entire south, but we do not only supply your Crimea Imperial Army!" the Odessa bureaucrat lamented, "The Russian Imperial Army in Bessarabia Province needs our supplies, and the Russian Army in the Caucasus Region also requires our supply..."

"Enough! I don’t want to hear you say this. I only want to know one thing! Can you provide all the supplies you owe me in the next shipment?" Gorchakov waved his hand and asked the Odessa bureaucrat.

"Commander, I’m afraid that’s very difficult!" The Odessa bureaucrat shook his head in answer to Gorchakov and then added, "However, we will do our utmost..."

"How much is your utmost!" Gorchakov slammed the table and asked loudly: "Seventy percent? Eighty percent? Or ninety percent!"

"We will do our best!" The Odessa bureaucrat continued to deflect Gorchakov.

"Take your list and get out!" Gorchakov threw the list in his hand straight out.

The unbound list scattered in the air and landed in every corner of the room.

The Odessa bureaucrat had no choice but to bend over and picked up the scattered lists from the floor, organizing and consolidating them.

After gathering all the lists, the Odessa bureaucrat once again bowed to Gorchakov and said, "Commander, since you are unwilling to sign your name on the list, I will not stop you, but I will report your behavior to my superiors."

"You are threatening me!" Gorchakov looked at the Odessa bureaucrat with a violent glare, as if in the next moment, he would order his men to shoot him directly.

"Commander, this is not a threat!" The Odessa bureaucrat responded fearlessly, "I am simply stating the facts!"

"Get out!" Gorchakov shouted at the door, "You’re not welcome here!"

The Odessa bureaucrat did not speak further. He bowed to Gorchakov once more, then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

After a moment, the more Gorchakov thought, the angrier he became. Clenching his teeth, he slammed his fist onto the desk and cursed, "These pigs! Scoundrels... They think what they do in the Odessa region goes unnoticed. Supply for Bessarabia and the Caucasus, I bet it’s all going into their own pockets! They’ve embezzled all of His Majesty’s provisions. These damn traitors, I must report them to His Majesty and have them all hanged!"

His shouts only seemed to grow louder with his rising anger, but they failed to extinguish the fire within him. Instead, it burned even more fiercely. Gorchakov, now sweaty from his anger, paced back and forth in the office.

Unable to vent his inner wrath, Gorchakov searched the room for something he could use to release his frustration.

Soon, his eyes fell upon two wine glasses and an unopened bottle of wine on the windowsill near the wall. Smashing the glass or bottle would undoubtedly be a great way to vent.

Thus, he quickly approached the windowsill, grabbed a wine glass, and raised it above his head.

Just as Gorchakov was about to vent his restless emotions by smashing the glass, a knock on the door interrupted him.

"Who is it?" Gorchakov instinctively shouted.

"Commander, it’s me, Ivanov Gorchakov!" The voice belonged to one of his staff officers, and also a distant nephew of Gorchakov.

Mindful of his duty to remain calm and gentlemanly before his subordinates, Commander Gorchakov forced himself to suppress his inner rage, placing the wine glass back in its original place. After taking a deep breath to calm his agitated mind, he sat back in the commander’s chair and spoke to Ivanov outside the room: "Come in!"

The door slowly opened, and Ivanov Gorchakov entered the room. He first saluted Commander Gorchakov, then reported, "Commander, I have compiled the non-combat loss numbers of the Russian Empire’s troops over the past two weeks as you requested. Please review them!"

With that, Ivanov Gorchakov strode forward and respectfully placed a document on Gorchakov’s desk.

"Thank you for your hard work!" Gorchakov smiled at Ivanov Gorchakov, noting the sweat on his forehead and his dry lips. He pointed to the wine on the windowsill: "If you don’t mind, you can have a drink."

"Then I won’t stand on ceremony!" Ivanov Gorchakov smiled with joy, for he had not tasted wine in a long time due to the delay in supplies.

He quickly moved to the windowsill, uncorked the bottle, and poured a glass for both himself and Commander Gorchakov.

As Ivanov Gorchakov was about to hand over the two glasses of wine, Gorchakov’s voice, now tinged with a hint of disbelief, reached his ears, "What in the world is going on? Why are the non-combat losses so high over these two weeks?"

It turned out that in the report handed to Gorchakov by Ivanov Gorchakov, the non-combat loss numbers of the Russian Imperial Army had soared to nearly 5,000 in just two weeks, with more than 1,000 deaths.

"Commander, it’s already August!" Ivanov Gorchakov reminded him, "August is usually the time when diseases break out, and our army is currently short of medical supplies and stations. Many wounded soldiers have to share a single bed, and there are already cholera patients in some medical stations!"

Upon finishing his explanation, Ivanov Gorchakov drank all the wine in his glass.

"Cholera!" Gorchakov’s face turned grave. He knew the damage cholera could inflict on the army; it could incapacitate the entire force before they even set out: "What is the condition of the cholera patient now?"

"Currently, the cholera patient is under the care of Dr. Nikolai Pilorgor. He suggests that we segregate cholera patients from other patients!" Ivanov Gorchakov replied to Commander Gorchakov, "I’ve agreed to his request!"

"And then?" Commander Gorchakov inquired further.

"We’ll need a few more days to see the results." Ivanov Gorchakov paused and asked, "Commander, if I may be frank, are you really planning to launch an attack soon?"