Black Iron's Glory
Author: Ryogawa
Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00
Description: Welcome to Freia. A continent perpetually torn by war. Hundreds of years ago it was ruled by Magi, a people capable of magic who viewed themselves as superior to those who could not. For thousands of years they ruled over common people... but times change. Magic is a finite resource, and with its steady depletion, the magi grew weak. Eventually they were overthrown in a great war that saw them made all but extinct. Magic fell with them, becoming taboo in every way, the object of villainy in the novels of romance and heroism. War is a human condition, however, and it has continued to wage unerr

Table of Contents
Chapter 0 - Prologue
Chapter 1 - The Tricolor War
Chapter 2 - Family History
Chapter 3 - The Red-bricked Mansion
Chapter 4 - Habis and Morssen
Chapter 5 - Morssen's Ambition
Chapter 6 - Dawn
Chapter 7 - Tuition Fee
Chapter 8 - Academic and Physical Streams
Chapter 9 - Two Paths
Chapter 10 - History Lesson
Chapter 11 - Lake Island Egret
Chapter 12 - Mock's Goods
Chapter 13 - Cookbook
Chapter 14 - Obtained
Chapter 15 - Goal
Chapter 16 - Accident
Chapter 17 - Shocking Discovery
Chapter 18 - Big News
Chapter 19 - The Fathers' Plan
Chapter 20 - Decoding
Chapter 21 - Diary
Chapter 22 - The Truth
Chapter 23 - Scheme
Chapter 24 - Chilling Coincidence
Chapter 25 - Here Come the Girls
Chapter 26 - Father's Rebuke
Chapter 27 - The Drunk Arbeit
Chapter 28 - Sailing
Chapter 29 - Camping
Chapter 30 - Matchlock
Chapter 31 - Night Hunt
Chapter 32 - Night Duty
Chapter 33 - Ruins
Chapter 34 - Discovery
Chapter 35 - Dancing with a Python
Chapter 36 - The Perfect Excuse
Chapter 37 - Shaliun Gold Coins
Chapter 38 - Return Trip
Chapter 39 - Shocking the Town
Chapter 40 - Splitting the Spoils
Chapter 41 - Treating in the Tavern
Chapter 42 - Bookstore
Chapter 43 - Household Turmoil
Chapter 44 - Making Noodles
Chapter 45 - Disappointment and Gift
Chapter 46 - Choice for the Future
Chapter 47 - Father's Plans
Chapter 48 - Buying Bullets and Gunpowder
Chapter 49 - Flipper
Chapter 50 - Eriksson's Little Fishing Boat Dream
Chapter 51 - Shooting Practice
Chapter 52 - Target and Sight
Chapter 53 - Pointless Trivia
Chapter 54 - Three-dot Sight
Chapter 55 - A Disappointing Hunt
Chapter 56 - Hare Hunting
Chapter 57 - Chain Snare Catches
Chapter 58 - Secret Concoction
Chapter 59 - Lardor Snowhound
Chapter 60 - Claude the Confused
Chapter 61 - Magus Landes' Diary (1)
Chapter 62 - Magus Landes' Diary (2)
Chapter 63 - Magus Landes' Diary (3)
Chapter 64 - Surprise in the Diary
Chapter 65 - The Decision to Learn Magic
Chapter 66 - Claude on the Roof
Chapter 67 - Repercussions
Chapter 68 - Preparatory Work
Chapter 69 - Nighttime Cruise and Fishing Net
Chapter 70 - Night Fishing
Chapter 71 - Hunting Water Birds
Chapter 72 - Crocodile Struggle
Chapter 73 - Limping Home
Chapter 74 - At the Jetty
Chapter 75 - Father's Decision
Chapter 76 - Two Pieces of Bad News
Chapter 77 - The Second Diary
Chapter 78 - Basic Spells
Chapter 79 - Claude's Dilemma
Chapter 80 - Throughout the Year-end Vacation
Chapter 81 - Whale Meat and Tradition
Chapter 82 - New Year's Eve
Chapter 83 - Half a Cup of Milk Tea
Chapter 84 - Becoming a One-ring Rune Magus
Chapter 85 - Mental Shock and Animal Trials
Chapter 86 - The Lady's Spell
Chapter 87 - Lady Maria
Chapter 88 - I've been Learning Forbidden Spells?
Chapter 89 - Harmless Spells
Chapter 90 - Black Magic Market
Chapter 91 - Claude's Request
Chapter 92 - Hunting Wild Boars
Chapter 93 - Magic Tomes and Scrolls
Chapter 94 - Visit from an Honoured Guest
Chapter 95 - You should be a Chef
Chapter 96 - Difference
Chapter 97 - Wood Supervisor
Chapter 98 - The Small Hut
Chapter 99 - The Old Street at Night
Chapter 100 - Hurian the Fat Old Man
Chapter 101 - High Prices
Chapter 102 - Magic Crossbow
Chapter 103 - Confrontation on the Road
Chapter 104 - Taking Action
Chapter 105 - Weapons and Spells
Chapter 106 - Wrapped Up and Dealth With
Chapter 107 - Discussion
Chapter 108 - Excuse for Lateness
Chapter 109 - Two Spell Scrolls
Chapter 110 - Ambush and Pursuit
Chapter 111 - Spellbane Dagger
Chapter 112 - Impostor
Chapter 113 - Featherfall
Chapter 114 - Preparation Before Setup
Chapter 115 - Success!
Chapter 116 - Asking for Money
Chapter 117 - Familial Conflict
Chapter 118 - Going Out to Sea
Chapter 119 - Search
Chapter 120 - Discovery
Chapter 121 - Burning Coal
Chapter 122 - Time to Make Some Money
Chapter 123 - Graduation
Chapter 124 - Martial Law
Chapter 125 - Crime
Chapter 126 - Garrison
Chapter 127 - Mayor Robert's Plan
Chapter 128 - Tricked Veterans
Chapter 129 - Arbeit the Fraud
Chapter 130 - Arbeit's Whereabouts
Chapter 131 - Search
Chapter 132 - Den
Chapter 133 - Taking Action
Chapter 134 - Encounter
Chapter 135 - Bidlir Blanche
Chapter 136 - Lady Maria's Reply
Chapter 137 - Turmoil in Court
Chapter 138 - Two Matters
Chapter 139 - Arbeit's Intent
Chapter 140 - Filling Pockets
Chapter 141 - Wasted Trip
Chapter 142 - The Magus that Robs
Chapter 143 - Battle in the Yard
Chapter 144 - Robbery Complete
Chapter 145 - Jerad's Thoughts
Chapter 146 - Auction
Chapter 147 - Father-and-Son Talk
Chapter 148 - The Nightmare Comes
Chapter 149 - Modification and Rumours
Chapter 150 - In Debt
Chapter 151 - Despair
Chapter 152 - Turmoil
Chapter 153 - Act of Creditors
Chapter 154 - Guarantee
Chapter 155 - Move
Chapter 156 - Kefnie's Confession
Chapter 157 - Lady Maria's Gift
Chapter 158 - Property Development
Chapter 159 - Angelina's Secret
Chapter 160 - Angelina Wants to Learn Magic
Chapter 161 - Whitestag in the Fifth Month
Chapter 162 - Confusion and Change
Chapter 163 - Mayor Felidos
Chapter 164 - Doing Wrong with Good Intentions
Chapter 165 - Conscription Order
Chpater 166 - Have Some Whiskey
Chapter 167 - Explanation
Chapter 168 - Urgent Document
Chapter 169 - Execution
Chapter 170 - Detective
Chapter 171 - Suspicion
Chapter 172 - Dispelling Doubt
Chapter 173 - Repurcussions
Chapter 174 - Eve of Departure
Chapter 175 - En Route
Chapter 176 - Doghunt Tavern
Chapter 177 - City of Whitewood
Chapter 178 - Whiteroot Powder
Chapter 179 - Shocking Turn
Chapter 180 - Misunderstanding
Chapter 181 - City Lockdown
Chapter 182 - Blunder
Chapter 183 - Reporting for Duty
Chapter 184 - The Four of Noble Blood
Chapter 185 - Beatdown
Chapter 186 - Infirmary
Chapter 187 - The Whole Story
Chapter 188 - Punishment
Chapter 189 - Confinement
Chapter 190 - Training
Chapter 191 - Training Ongoing
Chapter 192 - Three Day Break
Chapter 193 - Surprising Tentsman Pick
Chapter 194 - Combat Training
Chapter 195 - The Final Counterattack
Chapter 196 - Causing Trouble
Chapter 197 - Settlement
Chapter 198 - Worry and Puzzlement
Chapter 199 - Wonderful News
Chapter 200 - Letters
Chapter 201 - New Recruits
Chapter 202 - Kink-necks
Chapter 203 - Marksmanship Training
Chapter 204 - Combat Simulation
Chapter 205 - Glory or Embarrassment
Chapter 206 - The Breakout of War
Chapter 207 - Arrival of the Prince
Chapter 208 - The Prince's Summons
Chapter 209 - Refusal
Chapter 210 - In the Heat of the Matter
Chapter 211 - Initial Signs of Danger
Chapter 212 - Nosedive
Chapter 213 - Conclusion of Battle
Chapter 214 - The Keeper Band worth Two Bottles of Wine
Chapter 215 - Prince Hansbach
Chapter 216 - Rangers
Chapter 217 - Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley
Chapter 218 - Ambush
Chapter 219 - Casualties
Chapter 220 - The Battle Reignites
Chapter 221 - On the Frontlines
Chapter 222 - Wilf Stronghold
Chapter 223 - Marching in Line
Chapter 224 - Suppressive Attack
Chapter 225 - Visit
Chapter 226 - Returning for Duty
Chapter 227 - Blackmaple Castle
Chapter 228 - Deployment Strategy
Chapter 229 - Squirrel Village
Chapter 230 - Questioning
Chapter 231 - The Baroness' Complaint
Chapter 232 - Charm
Chapter 233 - Discussion and Inspiration
Chapter 234 - Major Lederfanc's Inspection
Chapter 235 - Secret
Chapter 236 - Black Wolf
Chapter 237 - Wolf and the Maiden
Chapter 238 - The Shack Beneath the Rubber Tree
Chapter 239 - With in the Forest
Chapter 240 - Finally Speaking
Chapter 241 - Howling Wolf
Chapter 242 - Rainy Night
Chapter 243 - Skinning
Chapter 244 - Sheila
Chapter 245 - Nature Spells
Chapter 246 - Kindle and Fireball
Chapter 247 - Hidden Book
Chapter 248 - Nineteen Magic Scrolls
Chapter 249 - Spell Study
Chapter 250 - Construction of the Wooden House
Chapter 251 - Enemy Movements
Chapter 252 - Preparations
Chapter 253 - The Battle Begins
Chapter 254 - Night Attack
Chapter 255 - Armies Gathering
Chapter 256 - Pursuing Soldiers
Chapter 257 - Attack and Defence
Chapter 258 - Cannon Bombardment
Chapter 259 - The Camp as Tough as a Fortress
Chapter 260 - Strategy
Chapter 261 - Splendid Victory
Chapter 262 - Triumphant Report
Chapter 263 - Background
Chapter 264 - Leisurely Time
Chapter 265 - Joint Investigation Committee
Chapter 266 - Knighthood
Chapter 267 - Role Reassignment
Chapter 268 - Grand Gathering
Chapter 269 - Coincidental Reunion
Chapter 270 - News from Welikro
Chapter 271 - Explosive Shot
Chapter 272 - Mission
Chapter 273 - Dominion of Death
Chapter 274 - Castle Landes
Chapter 275 - Remaining a Deadbeat
Chapter 276 - Supply Difficulties
Chapter 277 - Fall of Rimodra
Chapter 278 - Mistake
Chapter 279 - Withdrawal
Chapter 280 - Siege
Chapter 281 - Shootout
Chapter 282 - Grassland Goldeagle
Chapter 283 - Siege Tower
Chapter 284 - Clash on the Walls
Chapter 285 - Siege Towers Destroyed
Chapter 286 - Escape Route
Chapter 287 - Withdrawal
Chapter 288 - Noble and Peasant Officers
Chapter 289 - The Brash First Prince
Chapter 290 - No Limit to Imbecility
Chapter 291 - Imposters
Chapter 292 - First Lieutenant Perengue
Chapter 293 - A Life Lost
Chapter 294 - Countermeasures
Chapter 295 - Judiciary Investigation Committee
Chapter 296 - Investigation Ongoing
Chapter 297 - Investigation Concluded
Chapter 298 - Train of Thought
Chapter 299 - The Dust Has Settled
Chapter 300 - Family Visit Break
Chapter 301 - Efenasburg's Black Market
Chapter 302 - Bandits
Chapter 303 - Bandit Encounter
Chapter 304 - Return Home
Chapter 305 - Mother, Sister, Brother, and Pluto
Chapter 306 - Sister and Spells
Chapter 307 - Lady Maria's Deliberations
Chapter 308 - Buying Woodland
Chapter 309 - Myriad Changes
Chapter 310 - Kills and Magic Accessories
Chapter 311 - Visits
Chapter 312 - Marriage
Chapter 313 - Peddler Donoby
Chapter 314 - Lieutenant Manrique
Chapter 315 - Accommodation Problems
Chapter 316 - Home Stay and Eloping
Chapter 317 - The Sounds Upstairs
Chapter 318 - Laundry Chaos
Chapter 319 - Trash Novel
Chapter 320 - Arrival in the Royal Capital
Chapter 321 - Visit
Chapter 322 - Village Chief Chenova
Chapter 323 - Advanced Strategy Class
Chapter 324 - Rainy Season
Chapter 325 - The Hole Under The Bed
Chapter 326 - Inadequacies
Chapter 327 - Family Correspondence
Chapter 328 - Special Independent Tribe
Chapter 329 - Personnel and Organisation
Chapter 330 - Military Discipline and Healer Transfer
Chapter 331 - Long Distance Training
Chapter 332 - Two New Developments
Chapter 333 - Training Exercise
Chapter 334 - Another War
Chapter 335 - Arrival on Nubissia
Chapter 336 - Port Cobius
Chapter 337 - The High-Commissioner's Problem
Chapter 338 - Planning
Chapter 339 - Encounter
Chapter 340 - Claude Defence Line
Chapter 341 - Night Attack! Night Attack!
Chapter 342 - Operation Burn
Chapter 343 - Push and Pull
Chapter 344 - Burning Mordo
Chapter 345 - Siblings' Arrival
Chapter 346 - Angelina's Marriage Matters
Chapter 347 - Victory and Expansion
Chapter 348 - Theatre of War
Chapter 349 - Great Battle's Eve
Chapter 350 - Bait and Massacre
Chapter 351 - Battle of Balingana (1)
Chapter 352 - Battle of Balingana (2)
Chapter 353 - Battle of Balingana (3)
Chapter 354 - The General's Mistake
Chapter 355 - State of Turmoil
Chapter 356 - Military Budget Debacle
Chapter 357 - Changes in the Corps
Chapter 358 - Truth and Excavation
Chapter 359 - General Fansnik
Chapter 360 - Field Marshal of the Theatre
Chapter 361 - Problem Solved
Chapter 362 - Spending and Promotion
Chapter 363 - Mister Weyblon
Chapter 364 - Drivick
Chapter 365 - Explosives and Ignition Powder
Chapter 366 - New Theatre Preparation Meeting
Chapter 367 - Sudden Incident
Chapter 368 - Reuniting with an Old Friend
Chapter 369 - Matters Settled
Chapter 370 - Work Horses, Donkeys, Mine, and Factory
Chapter 371 - Monster and Power
Chapter 372 - Hot-air Engine
Chapter 373 - Borkal's Mission
Chapter 374 - Bull Hunting
Chapter 375 - Dawn Attack
Chapter 376 - The Second Encampment
Chapter 377 - Battle Back and Forth
Chapter 378 - Trade
Chapter 379 - Third Victory
Chapter 380 - General Eiblont
Chapter 381 - Conquest of Wickhamsburg
Chapter 382 - Strike
Chapter 383 - The Nikancha Call for Help
Chapter 384 - Great Deal for the Nikancha
Chapter 385 - Position Shift
Chapter 386 - News from Shiks
Chapter 387 - Majid III's Plans
Chapter 388 - Word of Mouth
Chapter 389 - Sixty Percent
Chapter 390 - Reunion After a Long Parting
Chapter 391 - Father-Daughter Magi
Chapter 392 - Revolver Test: Success!
Chapter 393 - Recruitment
Chapter 394 - General Aljess
Chapter 395 - Attack Drill
Chapter 396 - Gunshots at Midnight
Chapter 397 - Ambushed
Chapter 398 - Assassination
Chapter 399 - Loss
Chapter 400 - Greytower Magi and Countermeasures
Chapter 401 - Thoughts and Self-preservation
Chapter 402 - The Royal Capital's Response
Chapter 403 - Non-stop News
Chapter 404 - Humbling Oneself
Chapter 405 - Discharge Problem
Chapter 406 - Problem Solved
Chapter 407 - Rapidly Changing World
Chapter 408 - War Orphans
Chapter 409 - Civil War and Waves of Immigrants
Chapter 410 - Conclusive Year-end Report
Chapter 411 - Secret Orders from the First Prince
Chapter 412 - Downsizing and Shocking News
Chapter 413 - Restructuring and Huge Bombshell
Chapter 414 - Reasoning
Chapter 415 - Rubbish Defence
Chapter 416 - Absorbed into the Theatre
Chapter 417 - Viscount Godic
Chapter 418 - Averting Trouble
Chapter 419 - Assembly Hall
Chapter 420 - Borkal's Legendary Exploits
Chapter 421 - Military Industrial Equipment
Chapter 422 - The Purge
Chapter 423 - New Rifle
Chapter 424 - News from Smugglers
Chapter 425 - Western Coast
Chapter 426 - Loan
Chapter 427 - Fundraising
Chapter 428 - Lease
Chapter 429 - Argument and Captives
Chapter 430 - Faceslapping
Chapter 431 - Claude's Countermeasures
Chapter 432 - Operation Leak
Chapter 433 - Opinion
Chapter 434 - Here Come the Nikancha Ambassadors
Chapter 435 - Negotiations (1)
Chapter 436 - Negotiations (2)
Chapter 437 - Shiksan Arrival
Chapter 438 - Pre-war Business
Chapter 439 - Defence Line
Chapter 440 - Reason for Loss
Chapter 441 - Night Attack and Ambush
Chapter 442 - Solving the Root of the Problem
Chapter 443 - Wolfang Band
Chapter 444 - Witness to the Night Battle
Chapter 445 - Awards and Armaments
Chapter 446 - Unexpected Developments
Chapter 447 - Attack Mishap
Chapter 448 - Heated Battle at Camp
Chapter 449 - Bloody Clash
Chapter 450 - Merit, Lesson, and the Foolish Nikancha
Chapter 451 - The Wondrous Nikancha
Chapter 452 - Conclusions
Chapter 453 - Meeting and Decisions
Chapter 454 - New Research
Chapter 455 - Tobacco Business
Chapter 456 - Rumours and Going Off-topic
Chapter 457 - The Nikancha's Offer
Chapter 458 - Suggestions Laced with Threats
Chapter 459 - Idle Chat and Arrival
Chapter 460 - Nikancha Camp-flight Incident
Chapter 461 - Why Isn't Shiks Attacking?
Chapter 462 - Attack and Reinforcement
Chapter 463 - Tricks and Countermeasures
Chapter 464 - Crossing the Floating Bridge
Chapter 465 - Meeting and Surprise Attack
Chapter 466 - Thundercrash's Assault
Chapter 467 - Surprise Attack Planning
Chapter 468 - At Sea
Chapter 469 - The Grand Push
Chapter 470 - Cleanup After the Great Battle
Chapter 471 - Borkal's Experiences
Chapter 472 - Private Conversation
Chapter 473 - Blacksail and Eriksson
Chapter 474 - Rebuke
Chapter 475 - Ambassador's Arrival
Chapter 476 - Piglet Capture Conflict
Chapter 477 - Shock at the Banquet
Chapter 478 - Ambassadors' Night Meeting
Chapter 479 - Blinded by Greed
Chapter 480 - Aftermath and Self-governance
Chapter 481 - Deploying on the Mainland
Chapter 482 - Sacred Light Era Year 595
Chapter 483 - The Union Rises
Chapter 484 - Request and Reply
Chapter 485 - Troubling Household Matters
Chapter 486 - The Hunt
Chapter 487 - Tracking
Chapter 488 - Train
Chapter 489 - Blackwind, Stop Licking!
Chapter 490 - Sheila's Experiences
Chapter 491 - Catching Up
Chapter 492 - Busywork and Misfortune
Chapter 493 - Family Troubles
Chapter 494 - Splitting Family Assets
Chapter 495 - Aid
Chapter 496 - Ironclad and Stahlhelm
Chapter 497 - Declaration of War
Chapter 498 - Chasing Ambassador's Away and Maria's Arrival
Chapter 499 - Conversation on the Train
Chapter 500 - Deciding to Deploy
Chapter 501 - Goals
Chapter 502 - Operation Crescent Moon
Chapter 503 - Arrival and Impersonation
Chapter 504 - War on Two Fronts
Chapter 505 - Triumph of Ambruiz
Chapter 506 - Station and Choice
Chapter 507 - En Route to Polyvisia
Chapter 508 - Butcher of Polyvisia
Chapter 509 - Saint Lusk Naval Battle
Chapter 510 - Severe Circumstances
Chapter 511 - Choosing to Fight or Leave
Chapter 512 - Prelude to Battle
Chapter 513 - Clash in Polyvisia (1)
Chapter 514 - Clash in Polyvisia (2)
Chapter 515 - Clash in Polyvisia (3)
Chapter 516 - Clash in Polyvisia (4)
Chapter 517 - Good News and Lies
Chapter 518 - Appointment and Delegation
Chapter 519 - Captives and Expansion
Chapter 520 - Disassembly and Diversion
Chapter 521 - Prime Minister's Two Proposals
Chapter 522 - The King's Scheme
Chapter 523 - Elevation Fee
Chapter 524 - Choice and Solidarity
Chapter 525 - The Council's Three Demands
Chapter 526 - Solidarity of Victors
Chapter 527 - Fief Picks
Chapter 528 - Bandit Extermination
Chapter 529 - Really a Misunderstanding?
Chapter 530 - Deploying Troops
Chapter 531 - Prime Minister's Reception
Chapter 532 - Sharp Negotiations
Chapter 533 - Reparations Negotiations and Arms Deal
Chapter 534 - Two Bits of Bad News
Chapter 535 - Analysis and Response
Chapter 536 - Ironclad Deal
Chapter 537 - Operation Wildfire
Chapter 538 - Shiksan Captives
Chapter 539 - Tesoray's Future
Chapter 540 - Family Matters
Chapter 541 - Reorganisation and Voluntary Folk
Chapter 542 - Escort and Transport
Chapter 543 - Court Case of the Wood
Chapter 544 - Pamigar Revolt
Chapter 545 - Battle Report
Chapter 546 - Looming Threat
Chapter 547 - General Skri's Secret Message
Chapter 548 - Western Coast Incident of 603
Chapter 549 - Death of the Great Chieftain
Chapter 550 - Return of General Birkin
Chapter 551 - Cape Lodocus's Handover
Chapter 552 - Homecoming Shiksans
Chapter 553 - To the Mainland
Chapter 554 - Blancarte's Intentions
Chapter 555 - Worrying Household Matters
Chapter 556 - Clueless Mother
Chapter 557 - Avitelli I of Bleyotte
Chapter 558 - Fate of Mambamark
Chapter 559 - Strategic Lies
Chapter 560 - 9th Month of Year 604
Chapter 561 - Attacking First
Chapter 562 - The Great Demise
Chapter 563 - Strategic Analysis and Delegation
Chapter 564 - Blancarte's Suggestion
Chapter 565 - Change of the Homecoming Shiksans
Chapter 566 - Claude's Headache
Chapter 567 - National Defence Force and Useless Allies
Chapter 568 - Wolves Abroad, Hyenas at Home
Chapter 569 - Middle of the 9th Month
Chapter 570 - Lease and the Court's Three Requests
CHapter 571 - Refused Requests
Chapter 572 - Arbeit's Past
Chapter 573 - Two Letters and the National Preservation Fund
Chapter 574 - Reply and Captives
Chapter 575 - General Siegfeld's Development Plan
Chapter 576 - Official Notice and Lawsuit
Chapter 577 - Awkward Court Case
Chapter 578 - Meanwhile, on the Western Coast
Chapter 579 - Potential for Sheila to Advance
Chapter 580 - Borkal and Eriksson
Chapter 581 - Myjack Joins the Household
Chapter 582 - Borkal's Failure
Chapter 583 - Visitation
Chapter 584 - The Royal Family's Ironclads
Chapter 585 - Three Main Intelligence Agencies
Chapter 586 - Royal Navy Scandal
Chapter 587 - Trivialities
Chapter 588 - Attack on Port Wades
Chapter 589 - Battle of Nubari Islands
Chapter 590 - Dawn of the Age of the Ironclad
Chapter 591 - The Western Coast of Rapid Change
Chapter 592 - Intervention

Description

Welcome to Freia. A continent perpetually torn by war. Hundreds of years ago it was ruled by Magi, a people capable of magic who viewed themselves as superior to those who could not. For thousands of years they ruled over common people... but times change. Magic is a finite resource, and with its steady depletion, the magi grew weak. Eventually they were overthrown in a great war that saw them made all but extinct. Magic fell with them, becoming taboo in every way, the object of villainy in the novels of romance and heroism. War is a human condition, however, and it has continued to wage unerringly between the successor kingdoms and empires as the common man fights to become master of the world left behind by the magi. Magic has gone, but power remains, now wielded in the form of firearms and manpower. Muskets echo on the fields and cannons thunder on the ocean, even more so now that the greatest kingdoms on the continent have pushed out to colonise the far-away land known as Nubissia. Born into this world of chaos is a young man, reincarnated from a salaryman in 21st century China. Lacking the prejudice against magic, and possessing a hobbyist's knowledge of firearms and tactics, our young protagonist forges his path in a world where magic and musket war.

Chapter 0 - Prologue

The silver moon hung high in the sky and cast its clear, silver light down on the world in bright waves. Opposite it, the crimson moon clung bloodily onto the blue veils of the night sky.

"Claude, it's ten already! Why are you still awake?! You have school tomorrow! We've already spent six riyas on oil this month!" a woody male voice boomed into the room.

A youthful face lifted its gaze from its desk, gazing at the competing grey and crimson night sky hemispheres. The face turned to the oil lamp, whose little flame licked lazily at the darkness in the room, and blew it out, letting a thin trail of smoke drift out of the window into the night. The figure to which the face was attached slowly rose from its hard, wooden seat. It drifted over the wooden floor to a bed nearby and descended onto it silently. The bed creaked like a heavy skeleton as it settled under the figure's weight. The same woody voice continued to echo complaints from the bottom of the stairs. The figure's gaze shifted once again to the desk, staring at the grey-brown surface, now lit solely by the pale moonlight.

Half a year, the figure thought, half a year since I came to this world.

Half a year, and for the first time he had thought of himself as his new self, rather than an unwelcome guest in this body.

Claude. Such was his new name. The previous consciousness that had called this body home had put it in bed, sick, for a whole month. The new consciousness, the current Claude, had to spend his first month in bed as well, as a result, while the body slowly recovered. He didn't complain much, though, because it was a good excuse to keep people from talking too much while he sorted through years of foreign memories. He only started to interact again once he felt somewhat familiar with the tale of this body's life until his intrusion. No one suspected the occupant had changed.

"I... I was Chen Xi... Chinese. I lived in the magic city[1]. But... But now I'm Claude Ferd. I live in a small town called Whitestag in a prefecture called Balivia, a part of the Kingdom of Aueras, on a continent called Freia. I'm 16 years old and I'm currently attending middle-school." Claude half-muttered half-sighed to himself.

The idea of 'transmigration' was not foreign to the soul once known as Chen Xi. His old life had countless television dramas, webserials and webnovels that depicted numerous renditions of such events. Until his own transmigration, however, it was only a fanciful delusion, a tale of myth and fantasy that no one really believed was real. He'd resigned himself to a normal, boring life by the age of 30. Born to a middle-of-the-road worker's class family, he lived a very middle-of-the-road life in a middle-of-the-road town. He was average in every way. He was not athletic, nor very intelligent, nor particularly adept at any specific skill. He worked hard to get through primary and secondary education, as did most of his peers, and eventually went to a middle-of-the-road university. There, too, he toiled day and night to graduation with average marks for an average degree. From there he searched for a job. A search that took him to the magic city. Where he eventually settled in a small suburb-town known as Wencheng.

His years passed him by uneventfully. The boredom of normal life was broken up only by his family's anxious introductions of females with whom they hoped he'd tie the knot. His only outstanding characteristic, however, was his complete lack of outstanding characteristics, something few, if any, women appreciated.

It took several years, but his third aunt eventually found him a girl that moved him, and was, in turn similarly inclined. She was seven years his junior. A fair-skinned, slender figure that sat well on the eyes. She was his junior in age only, however. She'd graduated from a good university and worked as a public servant of decent stature. Her family ran their own business. Nothing major, but an endeavour of greater-than-average success. They weren't upper class, but sat firmly in the middle-class.

Chen Xi was not as well-off. He stood just 1.76 meters tall. His looks were passable at best. His parents were farmers and owned only their small farm and house, the latter of which they'd bought on loan and had to pay back over 18 years. Chen Xi himself was a technician in a small private business in the town. He did occasionally fill in as a salesman or in customer service when his boss needed an extra hand of a substitute, though.

Chen Xi, at least, came to understand the game of wooing, now that he had someone he wanted to pursue. Patience was paramount. He worked the girl for eight months before the finally agreed to be his wife. He'd wanted to start a family on the very evening of their wedding, but she was unwilling. She did not want to give up on her career or student-like social life when she was still just 26.

Chen Xi, however, was already 31. If his wife remained stubborn, he'd be 35 by the time he had his first child. She even insisted they use 'harmonious devices' during their 'peaceful interactions'[2]. He did not like having to bathe wearing a raincoat. His love for her made him accept her conditions, but his pride would not let him accept her parent's dowry: a car. He scraped together the money for the car on his own. His wife became the driver of course, she was even the one that picked out the car.

His married life was just as plain as everything before. He embodied all the qualities of a good house-husband. It kept him busy, but he enjoyed feeling fulfilled. It helped that his wife didn't expect too much from him. Perhaps the secret to happiness was knowing when to be content?

His plain, contented life lasted one year. He took the day of their anniversary off from work to surprise his wife with a romantic candle-lit dinner and wine, but his wife called and said she had to work overtime so she would be late.

He went through the trouble to get good imported wine while he waited for his wife. He eventually decided to meet her at the office, but found it closed and completely dark when he arrived. The guard also told him his wife had left at the usual time. His heart strung suspicion so he called to find out where she was, but she did not answer.

He wandered around the neighbourhood on his way home, and found her car parked by a small park near their home. As he got closer, he noticed it was swaying unnaturally.

He closed in and took out the spare set of keys for the car he happened to have with him. Most people's hearts might have been racing at the thought of what they might find, but he was serene. He'd never really been one to get excited and anxious easily.

He walked up to the rear door casually and opened it. Inside was his wife, and on top of her was her boss, Secretary-General Liu. The two were in the midst of the final throes of intense, romantic activity, the naked variety.

Chen Xi looked at the expensive bottle of wine in his hand and considered smashing it on the man's head, but thought it would be a waste. He supposed he should be happy that he'd caught them red-handed, at least his wife could not deny what she'd done, but he felt nothing. His gaze shifted to the pair as he slipped his phone out of his pocket and started filming, mimicking a certain Mr. Chen Edison[3].

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your activities. I'll leave in a moment, so please ignore me," he said, smiling at the terrified pair.

"Oh, wifey, dear, meet me at the civil affairs bureau tomorrow for the divorce proceedings. I'll text you the time later. If you miss it..." Chen Xi waved the phone, his calm smile still plastered on his face. "It would be such a shame."

His wife didn't return that night.

The two signed their divorce the next morning. His wife forfeited all claims to any of their assets without complaint. The two didn't speak or look at one another throughout the proceedings. The only time his wife spoke to him was as they left the building.

"Please... Please delete the photos."

"Don't worry, I won't leak them." Chen Xi nodded, not looking at her.

He stopped by a real estate agent on the way home and stopped by his work to resign. It took just three days to sell his home and everything in it. He at first considered using some of the money to pay back the share his former in-laws had paid on the house, but then he decided it was compensation for what their daughter did to him.

"You bumbling fool! How could you let those cheating animals off so easily?!" his old friend complained.

The man had been his roommate during his university days--Yang Dazhi.

Chen Xi rolled his eyes.

"What would you suggest I do then? Should I make a big fuss of it and leak the pictures on the internet? I'd be dragged to court and have to split everything with her."

Both were now divorcees. In this matter Yang Dazhi was six years Chen Xi's senior. The man, the heir to a family business, had dated his school's idol for two years before marrying soon after their graduation. The two had a child. The business didn't do very well, however, and he was forced to go overseas for two years to save his company. When he returned, he found his wife having an affair with a trainer in a gym she frequented.

He'd pretended to not know anything for a while and hired a private eye to collect evidence of his wife's indiscretion. He finally confronted the two once his case was solid and pummeled the trainer into the hospital. He served his wife divorce papers as she cried over the man in the emergency room.

His wife didn't want a divorce, but when he refused to take her back, she took him to court. Enraged by her audacity, he leaked the photos on the internet, only to be sued. He lost half his assets and much of the rest had to be sold to cover the fine for leaking the pictures. He was forced to pay the gym trainer's medical bills but managed to avoid court.

The story taught Chen Xi he could criticise affairs morally, but the law saw no problem. It certainly didn't care when the reaction was to spread indecent pictures about the person in question all over the internet and beating up the playboy.

"Ugh..." Yang Dazhi grunted. He hated being reminded of the whole affair.

"Whatever, I won't pursue this. That whole business is behind me, yours behind you, let's move on. We've still got some youth left in us, at least."

Yang Dazhi opened a bottle of red wine as he consoled his friend. He was conflicted. On the one hand he didn't wish this on his friend, but on the other he was happy that he finally had someone else who knew his suffering first hand. They were now no longer just friends, they were brothers in suffering.

"That's the thing with women," he continued, "You can't hold her up to a pedestal and worship her for a goddess. Even if you give her roses and swear to love her for the rest of your life, she'll just give you a stretch of desert and demand you turn it into a forest for her...

"Who'd be willing to put on a grass-green cap?![4] I think I've finally touched the truth of this world. Women, apart from our mothers, are all frauds! Married or not, they're all the same! I'll take you to the bar tonight. You can see for yourself. Those neatly dressed white-collar ladies are all ravenous wolves. They want to bed you the moment you suit their taste..."

"You aren't dressed for the occasion though," he said, sizing up his friend, "We'll have to get you a makeover first. The soldier must wear the right camouflage for the right terrain. Those women have sharp eyes, if you don't wear something fashionable, they won't come after you."

Chen Xi didn't know how to react.

"I came here to come work for you and make a living, not to go look for women."

"You're my brother. I want to share the things I enjoy with you. There's nothing we can't talk about," Yang Dazhi said with a casual wave of his hand, "I offered you a job when we graduated. You're the one that wanted to build your own career. Ah, if only we hadn't lost contact we might both have avoided our messes. But it's better now. Let's go have some fun! If we stick together, both in our careers and relationships, nothing will stop us! Come, I'll go arrange a good car for you. Join me for a good time tonight."

And so the magic capital, Shanghai, had a new experienced 'player'.

"You must be very sad right now, brother," the youth murmured through teary eyes.

Most of the stories of transmigration were filled with wonder, but none were as ludicrous and his.

He'd been on his way to a meeting to sign a multi-million dollar contract. His boss, Yang, was very happy about everything and dragged Chen Xi along to two pairs of girls in a bar. Chen Xi had always considered himself a vigorous man, but the two women were a bit more than he could handle. In the end he had to resort to the ever-faithful Mr. Blue. The girls were crooked-legged by the time he was done. He passed out from the exercise, but woke to find himself in this new world.

[1]Chinese nickname for Shanghai.

[2] This is the author jokingly self-censoring and putting blame on China's censorship policy, which is detailed in the 'Harmonious Society' socioeconomic vision of the country. Colloquially, it's known as 'river crab' given how similar it sounds to 'harmonious' in Chinese.

[3] This is a reference to the Edison Chen photo scandal. More info: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edison_Chen_photo_scandal

[4] Wearing a green cap is a popular Chinese saying of being cheated on. It's a reference to people losing their lovers to other men during their time in the military, hence the green cap.

Chapter 1 - The Tricolor War

Claude got up relatively early. Were it Chen Xi before he transmigrated, he might've woken up at noon and headed to the company thereafter thanks to his overactive nightlife. But he'd had to wake up early since becoming Claude. He had even, and he was horrified at the thought, gotten used to waking up at five in the morning.

The local wargod shrine in the east of town would ring its humongous, god-forsaken bell at dawn every morning. It woke every soul in town, whether in line with or against their wishes, and shocked the town back into life.

Today, the eastern sky was crimson as light fought through the thick clouds. It would be overcast all day at this rate. The light was good enough to read without a lamp in spite of the thick cloud cover. Claude rubbed his face, waddled over to his desk, and started reading a book on grammar.

He had always considered himself a pathetic transmigrator. There was nothing special about him. He had no unique abilities, no dimensional pocket, no old, eccentric grandfather-like mentor or some other magical items. Besides the memories of his previous life, he was utterly, pathetically, depressingly normal.

Shouldn't transmigrators get cheats?! Try as he might, though, he had not discovered anything special about himself in over six months. The only thing that came even remotely close to being something odd, was his acute hearing. He could hear sounds most people, though not all, could not, and could pick out particular sounds, like the words someone spoke, from a clutter of noise when most people would just hear a cacophony. He also had a rather rampant imagination. He often imagined watching things happen that he could only hear. Like he could see his parents talking downstairs even though he was upstairs in his room.

A new world and a new life meant everything had to be done over again. He had to learn language all over again, and had to attend school again, granted, school in this life was nothing like school in his previous life. Could there be a more pathetic transmigrator?

He hadn't even inherited a decent life. The previous owner of his current body had been a complete dunce in school. He consistently, and this was indeed his only consistency in life, got the worst grades in his class. The bastard had left him no useful information on this new world. He had to learn everything he wanted to know himself.

The bell echoed across the town's rooftops, down its streets and alleys, bouncing back and forth between the buildings' walls, again. Its echoes had just died down when a door downstairs creaked. Must be his mother, she always got up early to prepare breakfast.

Claude closed the book. Fifteen minutes of revision was enough for the day. His efforts had been paying off recently. His grades were on the up, quite considerably, but he made sure to be just average. There was no point in standing out more than was absolutely necessary. He needed good grades for a good future, but it was already too eye-catching that he'd gotten this much better in just three months. There was no reason to make things even more unbelievable.

"Mutton biscuits, fresh out of the oven! Get them now!"

"Honey! Delicious osmanthus flower honey! Guaranteed to give you a rush!"

"Apples! Apples for sale! Three fennies each! -- Ah, thank you."

Hawkers' voices danced up and down the street as carriages rolled down the narrow roads noisily. Every now and again a loose pebble would be crushed or shot out from under the wheel in a random direction.

"Good mornin', Ma'am Ferd. Need milk today? It's straight from the cow's udder! Milked ‘em meself this mornin'!"

Uncle Grinn.

He owned a small farm just north of town with just over ten cows. He got up every morning before sunup to milk them. He'd rush into town as soon as he finished to deliver his fresh, often still warm and frothing, milk. He'd peddle the occasional surplus on the street for a while before going back.

Claude's mother was a regular, had been for years. Uncle Grinn often slipped them a little extra, most likely because of who his father was.

"Good morning, Old Grinn. Let me take a look."

Claude's mother.

"Wow, real fresh today, hey? I'll have a jug."

Claude shook his head. His mother must've taken out their big silver jug today. It could hold twice what normal jugs could.

"One fenny really enough?"

As expected.

"Yes, yes. One jug for one fenny."

"Thank you, Grinn."

While it was true that Grinn always sold one jug for one fenny, hers was not a normal jug and they both knew it, but his mother was used to it by now.

Claude's father, Morssen Ferd, was the town's chief secretary. He had quite the reputation in town. His position in the larger hierarchy was pretty low, but he oversaw everything that happened in the town. People often came to butter him up. Uncle Grinn, for instance, was counting on Morssen to put in a few good words on his behalf should anything unexpected occur. Such assurances were enough to get the household free milk regularly.

Claude stood up and put on his black school uniform. It resembled a bunt coat worn on Earth, but the collar wasn't western-style. It had an Asian collar, quite similar to what Japanese school children wore. The lower part of the uniform hung straight down and its cuffs were rolled inwards like those of a leather jacket. As the uniform was made out of linen, it was slightly wrinkled.

He took the blue-coloured towel off his wall and went to the washroom downstairs. At times like this he thanked his lucky stars his new world had decent hygiene habits, which was very peculiar, considering the time-period relative to his world he had placed it. From what he could see, this world's development was relatively similar to that of the early eighteenth century in his world, but their hygiene standards were at least one and a half centuries ahead, maybe more.

They had tooth brushes made of wood and horse hair, for one thing. Though they were larger than those from his old world, they still fit in his mouth. And, though they didn't have toothpaste, they used a coarse powder made from salt and plant juices that did a decent job, though far less pleasant to use. He had heard a few rich households had even started installing copper pipes to supply water, and rumors also occasionally made the rounds describing things that sounded similar to flushing toilets and soap. Most houses still used ‘long drop' toilets in outhouses, but they at least had something like toilet paper. It was a little softer that normal paper, but couldn't compare to the kind of silken paper Claude was used to from his old world. Thinking back to his transmigrator ‘colleagues' whose bottoms had to suffer ancient wooden sticks, he couldn't help but thank his good fortune.

Claude's home was a red brick four-story building. The top floor was an attic. He had heard his father mention the building was designed based on Hogg-style architecture which had been all the rage a century earlier. It was built by none other than the famous Biyald Hogg. Stellin VII loved the style and had once ordered three whole streets' worth of buildings in the capital built in it.

A landed baron named Borant Ke Rodeman built Claude's home just over sixty years ago. It was originally the noble's residence and had quickly become famous in the town.

But Prince Karjad Tam Stellin, who would later become Stellin IX, fired the first shot that led to the kingdom's restoration just over sixty years ago in the town. Rodeman Mansion, as it was then known, had served as the headquarters of the prince's local enemies, took the brunt of the fighting.

The situation had been dire in the beginning. They either had to take the mansion in half an hour, or die. A messenger had escaped and was heading to the neighboring town to call for reinforcements and it would take at most half an hour for the garrison to arrive. Most of the troops supported Prince Karjad, but the town's municipality was loyal to the other side, and the men had to obey orders lest they be called traitors to the crown.

The crown had ordered his capture, and he had little power to resist. He had to promise great rewards to bribe the official to keep them from carrying out the order immediately. He had sworn that they would win if only they could take the mansion.

Most turned him down, but enough daredevils were tempted by his offer. He formed a small assault force several dozen strong and charged at the mansion. They lost thirty in the charge, but the rest reached the front entrance, tore down the door, and charged in.

The prince, with a dozen or so he had in reserve, charged in as well. A few minutes later the last defenders surrendered.

With the mansion's fall, the town now belonged to the prince and his supporters. The neighboring town's reinforcements arrived soon after and had to face a difficult decision. They could either charge in and fight a fight they could likely not win, which would see them all die, march home without fighting, and likely be executed for desertion, or join the prince. They chose the last option and became the prince's first full unit.

Thus started the Auerasian civil war, also known as the Tricolour War. The king at the time was Stellin VIII and he and had ruled for eleven years. He had neither any achievements to his name, nor any skill in administration or finance. The eleven years of his reign saw the kingdom decline to the brink of collapse, which it had narrowly avoided several times by the time of the civil war's start. The aristocracy and the peasantry clashed ever more frequently. Some suggested that a civil war would have sprung up within several more years even if the prince had not gotten involved when he did. The king's authority had also been all but eroded into non-existence by the time of the war. Nobles ignored the king and his decrees completely and ruled as though independent. The kingdom existed in name only, and only because it was better to be under the inept king than to see him replaced by someone who could effectively suppress the nobles, or than to declare independence and have to stand alone.

The land was overrun by banditry, it even spilled into the major cities. The kingdom's two neighbors, the Kingdom of Nasri and the Duchy of Berkeley, were also getting angsty and had started testing the waters at the border. They'd even gone as far as occupying stretches of land along the kingdom's northern border. Faced with both internal and external threats, the king turned to a simple solution: dying and leaving the mess to his heirs.

The king's death was of no real consequence in and of itself. He had nothing to do with the kingdom's rule anyway, so the kingdom didn't lose much when he kicked the bucket. The problem was the succession. He had never picked an heir, so two of his children, Princess Elenia Tam Stellin, the elder, and First Prince Aunass Tam Stellin, the younger, both laid claim to the throne. This would usually not be a problem. Unless the king chose a different heir apparent, it was automatically his eldest son. The problem was that his first child had the military and the neighboring nations' support, despite her bad reputation as a harlot. Rumor was she had used four prefectures to buy their support.

First Prince Aunass, on the other hand, was supported mainly by the nobility -- the elite that benefited most from the kingdom. His uncle, Duke Brant, lead the faction, they stubbornly resisted any change to the status quo. They mobilized twelve infantry brigades from their personal retinues and fought the royal guard to a standstill.

Despite being in near open war with one another, they did not forget their youngest sibling, Second Prince Karjad Tam Stellin. The prince was a bastard born from the late king's affair with his first maidservant. He would not even have the right to be called ‘prince' if not that his father legitimized him after his mother died in childbirth.

He was raised by the royal palace's gardener and his wife.

Elenia and Aunass both believed Karjad wouldn't pose a threat since he wasn't of the royal bloodline. That didn't mean he wasn't annoying. They could just give him some shithole fief in the countryside and send him off to rot there, but they weren't willing to give him a single pebble of their father's kingdom. Instead, they gave him a position in the military and made him responsible for the security of the prefecture furthest from the capital.

He did just that, and then some. As a prince of the empire, legitimized bastard as he was, he cleaned up the nobles in the prefecture, gave their ill-gained riches to the poor, and exterminated the bandits in the prefecture. He won over the prefecture and its people in just a few months. The minor nobles, knights and the like, soon flocked to his banner, and in less than a year he had a force comparable to his two half-siblings and a good shot at the throne.

The two could not let this happen, however. They ordered his return, by force if necessary, to the capital the day after he arrived in Whitestag Town. It was an order for his capture in all but name, and everyone knew it.

The noble that ruled over the town marched his forces on the prince's camp to capture him, forcing the prince to retaliate with force. Thus started the Tricolour War.

Chapter 2 - Family History

The history books said Stellin IX the great and mighty cared deeply about his people's livelihoods. Starting in his early childhood, he disguised himself as a commoner and went around the city, and later the country and watched the people carefully to understand their woes. He hated the greedy nobles and corrupt officials that stole his people's wealth. He left to attend his kingdom's academy for nobles when he was sixteen.

He spent four years there absorbing all sorts of information and experience like a dry sponge. Most of which he would later use during his reign. He didn't waste his time with the lavish parties hosted by other nobles.

Stellin IX mentioned that those years enlightened him about the kingdom's crisis and convinced him it could only be solved with an extensive reform. He was young at the time, however, and though he had the will, he did not know how to go about his grand reform.

When his time in the academy came to an end, he decided to travel the rest of the continent to see what the other kingdoms were doing and maybe gain some inspiration. He did that for four years before returning to his home. Along the way he met and made a number of like-minded friends. Duke Laust 'Ironblood Prime Minister' Rin Diggins, Dubok 'Invincible' Man Duncan, Marquis Verdigar 'Ironfaced Justice' Mor Fux, and later finance minister Count Kell Jack Ferman. These people would come to form the foundation of his kingdom's thirty-year golden age.

Karjad met with his father, Stellin VIII, upon his return and enthusiastically suggested several reforms. His old and ailing father, however, had little energy or interest in pursuing the laborious route of reform and instead sent the young prince off to the prefectures to inspect the forces.

The prince didn't give up in spite of his setbacks. He toured the kingdom ceaselessly on horseback, reorganising the forces and cleaning up the government and nobility as he went along. He never failed to pass word to the common people of his desired reforms either, slowly building up a reputation and support base with the common folk and merchants.

Karjad returned to the palace two years after his departure, determined to persuade his father this time, only to find the old man dead and gone. The struggle between his two siblings, Elenia and Aunass, for the throne started almost immediately.

Karjad knew he had no chance for the throne with his background, no noble would support a half-blood commoner bastard like him. His only hope was to pacify his siblings and work behind the scenes to improve the kingdom.

Unfortunately, his efforts did little but annoy his siblings.

"You're a prince, our brother, in name only. Know your place! You have no business butting into our affairs!" he heard all too frequently.

Like their father before them, the two found every excuse to keep him out of the capital. It was not a bad thing for Karjad, however. He was most at home out on the plains. The formerly frivolous playboy, Laust Rin Diggins, came looking for him not long after he left again. The two spent the whole night talking about the prince's dreams, and the future Prime Minister and future king decided to take action.

Karjad, however, didn't think his actions would cause Elenia and Aunass to be so wary of him. The foolish baron of Whitestag Town led his men against the prince at the two's orders, forcing the prince, ill-prepared for the struggle, to fire the first rounds of the civil war.

Whitestag Town was soon occupied and the prince's first brigade recruited. The Auerasian civil war had begun. Princess Elenia turned on Prince Aunass at first and their forces clashed all across the capital. Karjad took his time cleansing the landed nobles in his regions before sending his tentacles into the capital. He quickly forced his siblings into a corner and forced them to join forces against him. The war took its toll on Karjad. He lost many battles and was at one point even forced to withdraw to just three of the most southwestern prefectures in the country.

But luckily his siblings immediately turned on one another when he was forced out of the capital and the surrounding regions, giving him time to regroup and recoup his losses. He had the populace's support, so it didn't take him long to rebuild his forces. He swung back into combat even stronger than he'd started his previous offensive and eventually claimed ultimate victory.

Princess Elenia was exiled to Nasri, where she spent the rest of her days in Shiks, a kingdom in the north of the continent, eventually dying of illness. Prince Aunass's fate was much harsher. He was killed by a stray bullet during one of the final battles of the war, and his troops were left to fight under Duke Brant for another four months before finally being cut down in the Battle of Ammson. The duke killed himself before he could be captured, unwilling to suffer the humiliation he would no doubt be forced to endure. His co-conspirators were all sent to the gallows or exiled from the kingdom.

The three noble siblings each had a differently coloured banner, Elenia had blue, Aunass yellow, and Karjad purple. The war eventually came to be known as the Tri-colour War. The people of each faction named the war after their faction's colour, such that the war actually had four names. The Tri-colour War, the War of the Purple, the War of the Yellow, or the War of the Blue.

During the early days of the war, shortly after Whitestag Town was occupied, the prince called up his men that had charged Rodeman Mansion. Only two had survived. One was lightly injured, the other likely wouldn't survive the night.

The prince asked each their wish, promising to fulfil it if he could.

The injured soldier was moved to tears. His eyes glowed a path of light in front of him. He coughed twice before speaking, a little blood splattering out as he tried to speak. He choked and fell silent.

Everyone's gazes came to rest on the final survivor, the sole bearer of the victory would certainly be grandly rewarded.

"What is your name?" the prince asked gently, turning to the shivering man. Most commoners would behave this way when they first encountered royalty, so the prince hardly found it surprising.

"Mi-mi-mi-milord... T-t-this one is c-c-called Habis F-f-ferd..." the poor soul stammered.

Ferd, in the ancient language Hez, meant field and farmer. Only farmers and their descendents bore that name. Habis Ferd's grandson was Claude Ferd, the old man was this particular family's founder.

Claude's father did not appear very proud when his father was brought up, however, he seemed very annoyed instead. He was angry with his father for not plundering riches for the family during the battle. The old man took only a single gold coin that had spilled from a soldier's pouch.

"Show His Highness proper respect!" a guard shouted.

"No worries," Karjad waved the man off, "Don't be nervous, Habis. You're a warrior. If not for your sacrifice, we wouldn't have won. Tell me, what is your wish? I will grant it. I will satisfy whatever desire you have, be it reasonable."

"Had your grandfather had the tiniest brain, he would have asked for a middle name and become one of the nobles!" Morssen had once complained around the dinner table.

He was always shaking by this point in the story. He would probably have sold his soul if it would let him turn back time and make the request himself.

Commoners and nobles occupied two classes separated like heaven and earth on Freia. It was beyond rare for a commoner to have the chance to become even a minor peer. Commoners were allowed only a personal and family name, the family names were usually related to where they lived or what job they did. Nobility had a personal name, a family name of which a single household could have a number of different names for branch families, and a middle name, known as a sobriquet. It was not only a marker of nobility but also marked ones status within the peerage. One couldn't just use a middle name and pretend to be a noble either, one's king, when granting a sobriquet, registered it in a national registry alongside the deeds the family held, and extended certificates, known as Titles of Peerage, that allowed one to have a sobriquet. It was a capital offence to use a sobriquet without a corresponding title.

The man who eventually became the kingdom's Prime Minister, Laust Rin Diggins, had 'Rin' as his sobriquet. His ancestor had been a minor peer, a knight. He led a campaign that saw the kingdom's territory expand into a nearby wilderness and was granted a Title of Peerage named Rin, and thus House Rin was born. Laust was from the Diggins branch family of House Rin, a well-known playboy as well. He corrected his ways when he joined with Karjad and served the kingdom for thirty years. He even made it all the way to an honorary ducal title.

In Aueras, one could tell from the moment a name like 'Morssen Ferd' was mentioned that he was a commoner. That way, others could speak and act more freely towards him. But someone calling themselves Laust Rin Diggins would be known, even by people who didn't know him specifically, as a noble and afforded corresponding respect.

Claude's father dreamt of earning a sobriquet. It represented, whether it came with wealth or not, an immeasurably bright future. He would not longer be just a chief secretary, but could be the mayor, or even a prefect. Currently, he sat at the peak of his career, no commoner could get any higher station in the government than he currently had, but with a sobriquet he would suddenly find himself at the bottom of a very tall ladder.

Time, however, marched only forwards. Morssen's father, Habis never learnt of his son's contempt, had he been privy to it, he might have chosen not to have any children at all.

Habis had no ambition, no plan even. He had joined the prince's army to feed himself, the period of war was hardest on the peasantry, after all. He just wanted a taste of the delicious bread he smelt from the camp's kitchen. He hadn't even completed his training. He'd been shoved in line with a bunch of people less than a day after joining and been sent off to town.

The march had been long, but he'd kept himself occupied with fiddling with his musket. It was something otherworldly to him. He'd only heard of it before, and only in the pub in whispers. He heard the loud thunder the wooden sticks made for the first time when he arrived in the town.

The prince seemed to have given a speech that had riled up the soldiers. Habis cheered only to fit in and then charged at a building with the rest.

Luck had saved him from being shot on his way to the building, but he was stabbed in his stomach as he stepped through the door. The man holding the sword was stabbed by the guy behind Habis, Habis spent the rest of the fight huddled in a corner, holding his stomach.

Everyone killed and died around him, he only made it out alive because everyone ignored him thinking he was already dead.

"I... I want a house..." he murmured.

"House? What house?"

Karjad asked. Surely he'd heard wrong, he, the prince, had offered this man anything he wished, and he wanted a house?

"This house," Habis murmured again, pointing at the mansion from which he had just stumbled.

"Do you really just want this house? Nothing else?" the prince asked again.

"Yes, Your Highness," Habis nodded.

"...Very well. It shall be yours."

Chapter 3 - The Red-bricked Mansion

Morssen's complaints were meaningless to Claude. Nobody should expect a farmer who spent his entire 26 years within 50 kilometres of Whitestag Town to have any sort of knowledge about the scope of what he could ask for.

A poor farmer who couldn't even reliable get food and lived in abject poverty his entire life would never think about things like deeds, sobriquets, official positions or other ethereal luxuries. Bread and housing was the extent of the riches that existed in his mind.

The greatest wealth Habis had known before then was a few silver coins he had once glimpsed in the inn's owner's hands. The highest official he had ever talked to was the tax collector and the local baron's butler. The extent of his interactions with the latter was 'Hello', 'How dare you show me disrespect! You should be whipped!'

Just asking the prince for the house had already taken more courage than he ever knew he possessed. He had even prepared to be beaten for daring to be so audacious. To the young Habis, the Hogg-style building was the largest and most beautiful building he had ever seen. He would look at the young masters and ladies enter the mansion in their luxurious carriages, from afar when he was younger.

He believed the red-bricked mansion was the heaven his parents had told him about in his bedtime stories. The place where food rolled off the table like sand through one's fingers. He dreamt of spending a winter in there without running the risk of losing a finger to frostbite. His dream growing up had been to be a servant in the mansion, but a position was never open.

Karjad's agreement was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him and he fainted on the spot.

The prince kept his promise. He had his men leave the building alone, taking from it only the weapons and documents. He left even the vault untouched.

When he woke up again and finished being treated, he walked around the house like a ghost. He gawked at everything he saw, he touched every piece of silverware, every glass, every lamp, every gold-plated handle, every painting, every sculpture, every curtain, every rug. He had to make sure every time that the thing he was indeed existed and had not been dreamt up by his short-circuiting mind.

Karjad stayed in the town for just three more days before leaving with his men. Habis didn't follow him. He was too injured. It was good he had been injured, if he did not have that excuse, he would have had to flat out refuse to join them because he just wasn't willing to leave the house.

"If that old bastard had better foresight, he would have gone with the prince instead of playing watchdog over this house! He might have earned us a manor, a castle even, had he gone along. Instead we're just commoners with an above-average house!"

Morssen, of course, never discussed whether his father could have survived the rest of the war had he marched with the prince's forces. None of the men in the brigade survived the war. The entire brigade was wiped out when the prince was chased out of the capital. Only eleven of the men that left the town with the prince that day survived, but they all became nobles, the lowest rank was a baronet.

They shocked the entire prefecture when they returned to visit their family after the war ended. The people only remembered those eleven's glory, not the hundreds that had left with them and never returned, who only achieved the rank of fertiliser in some far-off field.

Morssen was just like them. He didn't experience the war, so he knew nothing about how horrible it had been and could talk about it casually. He acted like it was a simple thing for his father to go to war and that choosing not to made him the ultimate coward.

Claude, instead, thought of his grandfather as an honest farmer and an all-round good person. Almost the entire town came to visit when they heard about his reward. His story quickly morphed into one where he was the town's first hero, the man who had single-handedly wiped out the oppressive noble and the hundreds of men that guarded his mansion.

He had no family anymore, his parents dead early on in his life, so he welcomed the visits and hosted them graciously. The mansion indeed became his heaven. He didn't keep track of his expenses, however, and his wealth decreased at a visible pace. His silverware and wine glasses also quickly became less. When he surveyed his house a few months later, he had lost everything, even the rug under his bed. Not even the golden frames around his paintings were left. Even his gold-plated door handles had gone the way of the dodo.

He finally realised how much his guests appreciated his hospitality.

The mansion was way too big for his lonesome self. The attic aside, the first and second floors had four rooms, and each had its own toilet and washroom. The ground floor had a grand hall, a dining hall, two kitchens, three storehouses, four servant rooms, and a toilet.

He couldn't keep up with maintaining the house, it took him two days just to sweep the place, and it quickly deteriorated. It was already coming apart at the seems just a year after he got it.

Habis learned his lessons and carefully watched over what little he had left. He didn't want to hire a servant in fear the person would steal his remaining wealth. He eventually decided to get a wife instead. His target came to be the miller's only daughter, Mollie Miller.

The chubby girl was quick to fall for the town's first hero. It certainly helped that the 19-year-old was in the midst of a spell of romanticism. Habis was her knight in shining armour.

Her father, Carmendor Miller, however, was one of the few who didn't think much of Habis. He believed the brat only got lucky and would squander his wealth away in no time. He was looking for a successor to take over his mill and look after his daughter and Habis wasn't it.

He turned Habis's request for his daughter's hand down. He said Habis was neither an honest nor a brave person. He would have joined Karjad were he truly what everyone said he was. It didn't help that his old friends had turned on him for not hosting the same parties anymore. The miller didn't want his daughter married to a stinge who was only looking for a servant.

The true love of a father for his daughter. Habis wouldn't have it, however, and Mollie, being the naïve romantic, went along with him. Carmendor returned home one day to find his Habis and his daughter in then nude beside the grinder. The bread was baked and there was nothing he could do. Unwilling as he was, he had no choice but to let the two marry to avoid a scandal.

Mollie thus became Habis's wife, wedded by a priest from the moon shrine. The miller, who hated Habis with a passion for literally stealing his daughter, soon found his worries come true. His daughter spent her days in servant attire toiling away in the mansion.

"You can't go on like this. No matter how much money you have, you'll run out if you don't have any income. You don't have any children yet. Once they come, however, you'll suddenly find your money worth much less than it is now. You have to find a job and earn your keep," the father had advised his despised son-in-law.

"Should I cultivate some land?" Habis had asked.

"Do you think you can still raise the hoe at this point?"

Habis was red-faced. His year of debauchery had left him unfit and bursting at the seams. He would probably drop dead before he even reached his fields.

"I suppose I can help you out at your place," Habis hinted.

"No, I'm still more than able to handle the mill," the man nearly yelled, "Why not, for the first time in your life, use that hollow, wooden brain?! You have gold, so pick it up! Haven't you thought about your mansion at all?"

"Mansion? What about it?" Habis asked, alert.

"I don't have my eyes on it," the miller snapped, "There are too many rooms, it's too much for you and Mollie alone. Haven't you ever thought of using the rooms to make money?"

"Using the rooms? How?"

The old man sighed. He had hoped his son-in-law had at least this much sense. But it seemed he would have to draw pictures for him.

"Turn your mansion into an inn. Think about it. It used to belong to Baron Rodeman. It's well-known. Its guests were all famous and many are curious about this place.

"If you renovate the rooms and make it into an inn, I'm sure many will be willing to pay a healthy sum to stay here and experience a baron's daily life for a while. You won't actually have to work, you'll earn money just for owning the place! And you can leave the place to your kids once you kick the bucket. It can become a family heirloom in its own right."

Habis was easily convinced.

"Trust me, Habis. You won't regret it. I'm sure a century from now your descendants will be proud of you."

So the red-bricked inn was born.

Chapter 4 - Habis and Morssen

People always do things they think will bring about fortune. But no one ever considers what to do if things go wrong.

Habis and his father-in-law were no exception. Their idea wasn't bad per se, they'd forgotten, however, that the environment in which a business is founded is just as important for the business' success than the business itself.

The civil war had been going on for two years. The southwestern prefectures were the core of the prince's base and supplied most of his weaponry and supplies, not to mention his manpower. The burden dried the prefectures of their wealth.

No one could afford the luxury of going somewhere just to stay at a fancy inn. Business overall was in a slump. The prince had also cleaned out most of the nobility and government and he slashed excess expenditure.

Even his officials had to stay in tents rather than inns as they travelled. Habis's luxury inn was completely out of the question.

His mansion didn't see a soul after the first three days of curious stoppers-by. Just four months later, he had to let his staff go and turn his jewel into a run of the mill, though slightly fancy, inn. Despite his best efforts, he barely made a living.

The war ended six months later, and the prince ascended to the throne not long after. His complete overhaul of the kingdom's social, economic, administrative, and military institutions brought about the prefecture's recovery and Habis finally gained some breathing room as his business picked up.

By this time, Mollie was pregnant and Morssen was born ten months later.

These were the most blissful years of Habis's life. He had a decent vocation he could leave to his descendents, a virtuous wife, and an adorable son. Despite being far from as lavish as that first year, his life was still far better than he had ever dared to dream before the war.

Mollie was pregnant again when Morssen was four. When the day of birth came, however, it turned out she had twins. She couldn't handle the load, however, and, despite Habis making excessive donations to all three shrines in the town, she died not long after the second child was removed. The children could not survive without their mother, however, and died a few days later.

Habis never recovered. He turned to the bottle and spent his remaining years in a drunken stupor. He stopped caring about the inn and shoved all his friends out of his life.

His father-in-law, though stricken with grief, took Morssen in and raised him himself. The inn closed down a few months later.

Morssen thought nothing of his father. All his memories of the old man involved empty bottles and bruised cheeks from street fights. Before he went to live with his grandfather, he had seen his father smash up the house as if searching for his deceased wife, shouting her name and cursing the heavens. It terrified the young boy.

Luckily his grandfather soon took him away from that red-bricked hell.

In his twelfth year, the king's education reforms finally went into action and peasants were allowed to attend public schools. His grandfather sent him to the prefectural capital, Baromiss, to study in the first national elementary boarding school.

Habis had completely forgotten he even had a son by that time. Morssen did not see him once in his eight years in the school. His studies were also funded by his grandfather, his father didn't contribute a single coin. Morssen never forgave his father for that.

His father passed away while he was his second year of middle school. The old man fell into a sewer and drowned, too drunk to keep his footing in the shallow water. Morssen, quite the contrary to being aggrieved at his father's death, was relieved.

His father left him nothing but the mansion, other than ten silver thales of debt with the town's bars. His grandfather settled the debt.

Morssen only took three days of leave to return to the town to help his grandfather with the funeral. He returned to the city without even visiting the mansion.

Morssen graduated from middle school two years later and tried to get a job in the city. He was still in the middle of his search when he got a letter from his grandfather to come home.

Morssen obediently returned to find his grandfather bedridden with disease.

The old man wanted to leave everything to Morssen. He trusted his grandson would make a good miller.

He told Morssen his father's life story as he lay in bed.

"Do you hate my father?" Morssen asked.

"I never hated him. Habis became a drunk because the shock of losing his wife was too much. In a twisted sense, this shows I didn't let my daughter marry the wrong man. He loved her very much, at least."

"...Maybe his drowning is a sort of relief for us. We can only pray your father and mother met in the moon goddess's halls. I'm sure they'll have a pleasant afterlife..."

His grandfather passed away two months later. Everyone thought Morssen would take over the mill, but he sold it instead and invested everything in his father's mansion.

Morssen wasn't simply trying to inherit his father's career and restart the inn. He changed everything about the building.

He practically tore down the whole building. He tore down a part of the second floor's floor and built a stairway, sealed off that part of the building, and turned it into an en-suite apartment.

Morssen left the rest of the building as is though he installed a piping system and spruced up the aging furniture. He split the attic into three parts, for a total of six apartments and three attics.

He broke out the wall with the main door and replaced it with a class-work lattice. The part of the first floor that still had a roof was turned into two small shop lots.

He rented out the rooms and shops as soon as the renovations were complete. No one knew what was going through his head.

The renovations were completed in the 21st year of Stellin IX's reign. Aueras grew stronger years on year, especially with their overwhelming victory over their enemy, Nasri, and the annexation of Berkeley. With it, Aueras became the continent's lone superpower.

Trade prospered within the kingdom and its subjects lived bountiful and stable lives. The crafting and mining industries peaked and opulent displays were ubiquitous. As for Whitestag Town, which stood at the intersection of all the big trade routes between the three prefectures, it became a big town, a hive of merchants and travellers.

The entire mansion was booked within a day. The young man was far more adept at business than his father and grandfather. He was pragmatic and open-minded. His setup gave him a stable income and ensured he would never end up in his father's position. Most importantly, and he was very proud of this fact, it did so without taking up his day. It gave him the freedom to pursue public service, which would let him climb the social ladder, without having to worry about his income.

The news of his renovation was still criss-crossing the town when Morssen turned his sights on the town's chief administrator position. Being one of the first batches of students to graduate from the new schools, even being a peasant did not make his approval process difficult.

A key part of Stellin IX's reforms was his reform to the caste system, the foundation of which was the Rights of the Four Castes, a law outlines the new caste system and the rights and limitations of each caste. The old caste system was thrown out and replaced with a new four-tier system. From highest to lowest, the four social classes were nobility, dignitry, peasantry, and villainy; their members called nobles, dignitarians, peasants, and villains, respectively.

Educated as he was, Morssen could see things that most couldn't. While most of the townsfolk were satisfied with their status as peasants and thankful for the king's loosening of labour restrictions, Morssen had his eyes on becoming a dignitarian. He wanted to ride the wind of the Rights of the Four Castes and become a dignitarian to obtain more political power.

Chapter 5 - Morssen's Ambition

Traditionally, the highest class on Freia was the nobility, both landed and honorary, followed by freemen. Artisans, merchants, and even small farm owners usually belonged to that class. They owned private property and lived in towns and cities, paying taxes to the king or other nobles in exchange for their benevolence and protection. Over the generations, however, the freemen became an exploited and maltreated class.

The third class was the peasantry. These were people who didn't own land and worked mainly as labour for others, especially those in the countryside that worked on farms. Two subclasses existed among the peasants, those that lived outside of settlements or in villages and worked mainly on farms and in mines and other such industries formed one subclass, the lower of the two, and were not easily allowed into larger towns and cities if they lived nearby. Peasant that lived in settlements, mainly towns and larger settlements like cities and worked as labour for the various businesses owned by freemen formed the second, upper subclass. Habis was part of the first, a farmer that worked on other's land in exchange for food, shelter, and some necessities.

A fourth class existed alongside the peasants, serfs. They occupied the same spaces as the lower subclass of peasants, living outside of settlements or in small villages and working the land for resources, but they could not move freely. They were property tied to the land where they lived, much like furniture sold with the house or cattle sold with the farm. They belonged to the deed for their land, and thus to the noble that held it.

Even further below them were slaves. Unlike serfs, who were not technically anyone's property, but instead belonged to the land a noble owned, slaves were property owned by people. The serf at least could not be killed if they hadn't committed a crime, though what constituted a crime was often up to the noble's interpretation, but slaves were their master's furniture with which he could do whatever he wished, even if it be torture or killing. Ironically, while it was not illegal to own a slave, it was illegal to trade in slaves, so the slave trade was a black market. Its primary source of products was from wars, specifically soldiers caught during wars, and peasants and serfs sold into slavery due to debts they could not repay.

Stellin IX, however, abolished even the owning of slaves, and thus that class vanished entirely, at least, in theory. The king instituted reforms in trade, tax, education, general governance, warfare, and much else before eventually turning to the social classes.

Concerning land, the king declared that only the king could own land, and thus all landed nobility was abolished. The nobles revolted, but it was quickly put down and nearly half of the kingdoms old nobility was wiped out.

Shortly after the king published the Rights of the Four Castes. It caused a massive uproar across the continent.

The first caste in the hierarchy was the nobility, composed primarily of nobles that had inherited their title from their ancestors, and avoided being killed in the war and the subsequent purge, and those individuals awarded Titles of Peerage by the king for meritorious service. Nobles no longer received fiefs, though they could receive Deeds, which gave them the right to govern a territory on behalf of the king.

The second caste were dignitarians, people of dignity, the latter earned by making a contribution to the country in art, academics, business, or service, either in the military of the government, worthy of recognition, though not worthy enough to be given a Title and considered someone of nobility.

The third caste were peasants, people who lacked both nobility and dignity, were mostly uneducated, but obeyed the law. It was the most numerous of the four classes. Its members had to pay taxes and could be conscripted into the military in times of war. The new class was made up of the old peasantry, serf, and slavery classes and the people were given more freedoms. The people were, for example, at the grace of the king, allowed to 'own' -- basically a life-rental -- land, could marry as they pleased, take on any job as long as they were qualified, could travel as they pleased, and so on.

The fourth caste were the villains, those who lacked moral values, broke the law, or were considered a blight on society, mainly refugees, criminals, vagabonds, beggars, lechers, and harlots. They were stripped of all their rights and freedoms, aside from the right to not be killed and being fed enough food and water to stay alive, and had to be reformed through labour. They would have to do whatever jobs the king decided was necessary for a time in accordance with their sentences in order to earn their freedom and return to the peasantry.

The Duchy of Berkeley's entire army, for example, was made into villains after its annexation and sentenced to five years of labour.

Fifty decades on this caste had become the cornerstone of the economy, providing the manpower for expansion and development projects launched by the king's government and doing the filthy and disgusting jobs no one wanted to do like cleaning the sewers.

The bill stabilised the political and social state of the kingdom as well and ensured that the people would not interfere with one another's business.

As for the nobility, though they no longer had any fiefs, they were granted a fixed income in accordance with their Title, ensuring they could continue to live comfortably and preventing them from competing with one another. It was also made an unspoken rule that all the top officials under the king had to be nobles, and that, in order to occupy positions within the upper half of the hierarchy, one also had to have a fitting title within the peerage.

As part of his reform of the government, the king created two councils that, officially, advised the king on policies and handled sorting out the details and putting the laws and policies into practice. In practice, however, the two councils governed the kingdom completely independently from the king. They proposed, passed, and implemented laws, regulations, and policies almost entirely without any input from the king, though he had the power to veto any law passed by either of the councils. The upper council was the Council of Lords, comprised entirely out of nobles, including the king or any representative he designated to attend the council in his stead, and handled governing the nobility. Only the Council of Lords had the power to pass laws that bound the nobility and could judge them. They were also responsible for providing final approval of motions proposed and passed in the lower council.

The lower council was known as the Council of Dignitaries and only dignitarians were eligible to fill its seats. Most of the seats corresponded to specific regions, who would nominate individuals of high standing as representatives to sit on the council. The rest of the seats were reserved for recommendations by the Council of Lords and the king himself. Each member from a seat linked to a constituency in the kingdom was responsible for monitoring its governance and reporting the council on it. Collectively the council oversaw the government's budget and handled arbitration of the law in the members' constituencies. Members could put motions to the council who would vote on it and, if passed, send it to the Council of Lords for final approval. Members also received a modest salary for their services.

The most popular part of the Right of the Four Castes regarded education. It stated that all tax-paying members of the peasantry could attend national schools or send their children there to be educated, could volunteer for the military, and could take on positions in local governments, all ways that allowed them to earn dignity and become dignitarians. Most of the higher government positions were filled by nobles, and most of the middle government positions were filled by dignitarians, but low-level positions were open to peasants. The military was the easiest way for peasants to earn dignity, and they made up the majority of the kingdom's active and reserve forces.

When not at war, a peasant had to serve in the military for 15 uninterrupted years to earn enough dignity to become a dignitarian, but in times of war, a few years on the front lines or an extraordinary act of bravery could earn them enough dignity as well.

A government official had to serve for 20 years regardless in order to earn enough dignity to become a dignitarian. Morssen was not one for the discipline and potential danger of military service, so he chose to work in the civilian government.

He was quick to notice the opportunities the law would open up, so he grabbed it with both hands. It helped that he was only 22 at the time, so working 20 years to become a dignitarian didn't sound so bad.

He quickly won his colleagues' trust and admiration with his quick wit and work ethic. To the townsfolk, he was a sincere and patient worker, not to mention reasonable and impartial. To his colleagues, he was a trustworthy friend with a warm and generous personality and a penchant of helping. To his superiors, he was a subordinate that could handle all assignments with great precision. He was the perfect candidate to be trained as a successor.

Whitestag's chief constable, Sunny, decided that Morssen had good potential in him when the latter was 28, and handed his 24-year-old daughter, Pattisia Sunny to him. A few of his friends even asked him why he would wed his daughter to a peasant. The old man simply said he trusted his ability to judge characters.

So it was. Morssen maintained his track record for the next nine years and was made a dignitarian. He was the first official in a small town in the entire country to earn enough dignity to be made a dignitarian, and five years early thanks to his extraordinary service. With his ascension to the dignitry, he was also promoted to chief secretary of the town.

He was just 37 at the time and everyone had high hopes in him. His life with his family, a wife and two sons, couldn't be better either.

Having achieved his childhood dream at such a young age, which left him with a lot of energy yet, he lifted his gaze to higher mountains. He didn't want his rise to stop there halfway through his career. He wanted to become the next mayor, then run to be a council member, and maybe retire from that position to prefect after a few terms in office.

When he razed his gaze, however, he finally realised how difficult it would be to climb those taller mountains. Reality was not a dream. Whitestag was the greatest town in the three southwestern prefectures, but it was still just a town. It was a subsidiary territory of Baromiss, which itself stood under the prefecture of Balivia. He had a great reputation in the town, but that was barely a corner in a corner in a corner of the kingdom. He needed connections, connections he didn't have, in Baromiss. He could not climb any further without a backer already higher up the mountain.

If only his father had asked to be made a noble rather than just the house.

Technically the only requirement for becoming a governing official was being a dignitarian, but in reality he also needed a strong backer and supporters, neither of which he had. And it certainly wasn't something he could gain from just doing his job well. If he'd been a noble, he would have climbed onto the mountain halfway toward the top. A noble could so easily become an official in the local government that few even looked at the position.

Ten years passed with Morssen in his rut. His path stretched up the mountain above him, but he couldn't climb it. His ambitions never went away, however. The town continued to develop well and the newcomers quickly learned of him and became his supporters and admirers. It gave him a sliver of hope that maybe he could achieve his ambitions, eventually.

If he could grow the town into a city, he would be a top figure in its administration. If he couldn't climb the new mountain, then he'd just grow a new one out of the hill on top of which he already stood. And if he kept turning all the newcomers into his supporters along the way, he would have enough clout then to be elected a representative.

Not to mention that growing a town into a city would be an achievement worthy of peerage. His name might just appear before Stellin X and he might grant him a Title. If that happened, he could jump over the mountain entirely. The thought immediately dove its roots deep into his heart and he became almost crazy with fervour.

Chapter 6 - Dawn

As for where Claude, the actual protagonist of this story, fit into it all, he lived in the attic, while his parents and siblings lived on the second floor of their apartment. His elder brother, Arbeit Ferd, lived on the first floor. It had a guest room and a study, but the study was only for his father and elder brother's use. Claude had to have permission from one of them to enter.

Both floors had washrooms and toilets. Claude usually used the first floor's, too many used those on the second.

He headed down there once again now. He met Arbeit leaving the washroom as he entered. The man was stroking his chin happily. He enjoyed shaving too much.

"Morning, Arbeit," Claude greeted.

Arbeit glanced at him and hummed before heading downstairs.

Claude didn't mind, though, it was how his brother usually acted.

He didn't have the best of relationships with his elder brother. Mainly because his elder brother didn't think highly of him. Arbeit was his parents' pride and joy. He graduated first of his class from the town's middle school and was pegged immediately after to become their region's only council representative, Sir Yarisla Fux's, assistant.

(Author's note: Sir isn't a formal noble title, it is used for knights and baronets, who straddle the divide between the nobility and the dignitry. It's the greatest award a dignitarian can be awarded without being promoted to nobility. Knights and baronets are all but guaranteed to eventually be promoted to full nobility.)

Arbeit has also always considered himself the family heir and saw his siblings as only pretenders to his throne.

It almost made sense for him to behave that way as Morssen's firstborn. He had inherited his father's selfish and petty personality, the only difference was that he was still young and didn't know how to hide it. His father concealed his vices as virtues, everyone thought he had great vision and wit instead. Arbeit, however, put everything on display for what it was. He also didn't understand the idea of investment and believed he had to take everything he wanted in one step. He couldn't do small things now for bigger rewards later, everything had to come back to him immediately.

Claude's former self feared his brother, but his current self was completely apathetic, if anything, he was glad to have such a relationship. His former self hid inside himself so much because of his tension with his elder brother that no one really knew him for anything else, which gave the current Claude more freedom to be himself as he didn't have any old personality traits to conform to.

Morssen was too busy working towards his own ambition to care about his younger children. He barely even glanced at his son, even whilst the kid had been gravely ill. On the contrary, his son's illness only solicited anger at how weak he was. His mother, almost as if she was trying to compensate, spoiled him completely. She was so enamoured with her child that she didn't even put his odd behaviour to mind and quickly accepted it as normal. His younger siblings were too young to know what was going on so he had little to worry about there.

Their kitchen and dining room were on the ground floor. Having finished his wash-up, Claude descended the stairs to find his father and elder brother seated by the table. His younger sister, Angelina, 12, brought them their food from the kitchen. Arbeit treated her like a servant, even having her bring him the salt and butter rather than fetching it himself.

"Morning, Father," Claude greeted.

Morssen put down his copy of Whitestag Dawn and frowned at Claude before nodding slightly. He turned his attention to his food immediately, sprinkling a little salt on his eggs for eating.

Arbeit snatched the newspaper from his father and began reading out of the corner of his eye as he spread butter on his slice of bread.

Whitestag Dawn was a newspaper by the rich tycoons in town. They hoped it could emulate the three newspapers in the prefectural capital and bring them profits and a good reputation. It was too bad that, while there were more than 60 thousand permanent residents in Whitestag, only a thousand subscribed to the paper, barely enough to cover the costs.

It was always just an issue away from bankruptcy. Most of the journalists had been let go, and they relied instead on reprinting stories in the capital's newspapers. Most of the news in the newspaper was thus old news, at least for people in the know.

Lately, rumours had been spreading that a few were even looking for people to buy out their shares, even if at a small loss. One had even asked Morssen if he were interested, but he had yet to decide.

Claude went to the kitchen after his sister. He found her scooping out milk with a copper ladle.

"Let me, Anna," Claude said, lifting the pot to pour the milk out, "Where's Mother?"

"Bloweyk is making a fuss. She went to calm him down," Angelina answered.

Bloweyk was their youngest sibling, just six years old. Morssen was nearing 50. His wife gave birth near the age of 40, she would likely not have anymore children, if she did, chances were she wouldn't survive the pregnancy. Her last birth was already so dangerous, which was why they two loved their youngest so much. He was the family's little boss and got whatever he wanted.

"Alright. Go get some food. You have to go to school as well after you finish breakfast," Claude said before he took the milk-filled jar to the table.

Stellin IX's education reform let girls also enrol in elementary and middle schools, even the peasants' daughters could, as long as they could afford it. Morssen was rather open-minded in that regard and was putting in a lot of effort to see his daughter properly educated.

"Fill it," Arbeit ordered, pointing at his glass.

"You have hands, right?" Claude spat back, stopping his little sister from obeying, gently pushing her into her chair instead, "Ignore him. He thinks he's the young master. You are his sister, not his maidservant. He has no right to boss you around."

"What did you say?" Arbeit snapped, putting down his bread and the newspaper.

"You didn't hear me? Are you going deaf already? How will you do your job as Sir Fux's secretary? You should stop by the shrine and have a priest look at your ears."

Claude glared at his brother fearlessly, his hands smoothly going about their business buttering a slice of bread.

Arbeit rose from his chair, fuming.

"You... you..."

"I what? D'you want to fight me or something? Man, what courage..."

Claude did his best to appear an obedient child after he took over. It shocked his parents quite a bit. They thought he was turning over a new leaf after the illness. He'd even begun improving his relationship with his two younger siblings. No matter what he did, however, his elder brother, Arbeit, kept antagonising him. He found something wrong with everything he did and always took the opposite side of any argument or opinion to have chances to fight with his little brother.

He had once wanted to read a book from the study when his parents weren't home. He had to have his brother's permission to enter the study, however, which the latter just wouldn't give him. His little sister eventual criticised her biggest brother for being unreasonable, and the latter then slapped her across her face.

Claude's vision turned red when he saw his sister tumbling to the ground. He had still been recovering from his illness, but he jumped on his brother and wrestled him with every ounce of strength he had. The two were four years apart; Arbeit was a good head taller than Claude, but the young boy was actually stronger. He had at first thought he would be beaten up for sure, but it turned out Arbeit had a big bark, but couldn't even gnaw. He only had to give the bastard a few punches before he curled himself into a ball in the corner and started yelling for help.

His body's former owner, for all his flaws, was at least good at fistfights. His love for brawls also appeared to have lingered in the body as Claude felt a rush of adrenaline every time he felt his fist connect with some squishy part of his brother. He only stopped once Arbeit was a shivering tenderised steak.

His parents scolded him for a whole hour when they got home, but Arbeit had not gotten physical with either him or his younger siblings since. For his part, Claude also started looking down on his elder brother. Whenever they got into an argument again, he would subconsciously lift his balled fists a little so his brother could see them. ‘If you won't let me win with my words, I'll beat you with my fists until you give in'.

Arbeit immediately pulled out the moment he saw his little brother getting antsy. His defeat had scarred him, but asking his parents to intervene would ruin what little pride he had left, so he could do nothing. Today as well, he quickly shut up and sat down.

"I suppose you can't hold savages to civilised people's standards."

Morssen coughed a few times, unable to ignore what was going on. This was far from the first time he had seen his two eldest sons butt heads. He had tried disciplining them, but they just kept going at it. The two couldn't be in the same room for more than a few minutes without fighting over something.

"Your mother overcooked the eggs," Morssen complained, feigning ignorance, "Pour me a glass of milk, Claude."

Claude obeyed.

"Some honey?"

"No, thanks. Milk is best as-is, freshly heated. Honey makes it too sweet, and it's bad for the teeth," his father answered.

"I want honey," Angelina chimed.

"Okay, but you have to rinse your mouth after breakfast. Dad's right, sweet things are bad for your teeth," Claude smiled, adding two spoons of honey to his little sister's glass of milk.

Morssen shook his head. His son came out of his illness a different person. His grades nearly doubled immediately after he went back to school, he suddenly had an interest in reading, and he had stopped making trouble with his gang. He also suddenly had a deep affection for his little siblings. The only thing that had not improved, and had in fact worsened, after his recovery, was his relationship with his older brother. He looked for every excuse to fling a fist or two at his brother.

"Your brother is right, Arbeit. You should do a few things yourself as well. Be proactive, don't wait to have things done for you."

Both Claude and Arbeit nearly fell off their chairs. This was the first time in probably a year that their father scolded Arbeit. But things got even stranger.

"While your brother's grades can't compare to yours, he's a decent older brother to the young ones. He takes good care of Angelina."

Morssen had always considered Arbeit his greatest pride. Sir Fux had praised him a number of times when the two met and was apparently relying on his a lot these days. But the boy was petty and had a greedy streak to him. He didn't really care about his siblings either. He'd reminded the kid a couple of times to appreciate his family more, the boy didn't listen. And now that Claude was standing up to him, he was growing further and further away from his siblings.

Claude wasn't innocent, however. He kept provoking his brother at every opportunity. It seemed he wanted nothing more than to beat his brother up.

Chapter 7 - Tuition Fee

"I know, Father," Arbeit replied.

He argued with his younger brother all the time and often scolded the little ones, but he never disobeyed his father. He was clear-minded enough to at least not do that. He knew his father was integral to his future finances though he was already an adult and had a job many others envied.

His father was the greatest backer he could have in the town, not to mention that everything he had today was thanks to his father.

His words were obedient, but he continued to glare at Claude, biting into his bread as if to say 'this will be you someday'.

Morssen sighed. Were the two already beyond saving? It seemed he would not have a harmonious household until one of the two left. Luckily, he had set the two on completely different paths, they might ruin themselves if the two had to work together. He could only hope they would resolve their differences once they grew mature enough to realise how silly this was.

"Why didn't Sir Fux take you with him to the city?"

Arbeit shrugged.

"How would I know? He told me I should take a few days off, I've been working too hard. I think he went to the city to deal with personal stuff. It's not surprising he wouldn't want to take me along. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

Arbeit thought his response was perfect, but his aloof tone annoyed his father.

"I hope you don't speak like this in front of other people. Any gossip about Sir Fux will spread like wildfire in town. Don't get caught up in that, it'll ruin your reputation and any hopes of a good career."

Arbeit was dismissive of his father's warning, however.

"I know, I'm only talking about it at home. If someone else asks, I'll tell them Sir Fux rushed to the city to deal with something urgent."

Morssen shook his head.

"I'm disappointed. You've worked for Sir Fux for two years but you still haven't earned his trust. He wouldn't have hid his meeting with his lover from you if he trusted you. If you had played your cards right, you would have been the one asked to arrange the meeting instead of the one sent on leave."

"But I know about the meeting! He didn't hide it from me at all! All the official documents and letters go through me, and I have to reply on his behalf for a number of them! Didn't he praise me before you a few times?" Arbeit countered.

"Sigh, this is precisely why I worry about you. How do you know Sir Fux really went to meet his mistress? He might have misled you and his real purpose. Everyone expects people of his station to have a lover or two, so it's the perfect cover for doing shady business. You only know that he's going to meet her, right? Do you know where the meeting will be, when exactly, or who the woman is?

"You know that council members have a lot of power and are involved in a lot of behind-the-scenes and under-the-table dealings with their connections. I had hoped you would become the baronet's confidant and begin building your connections through your involvement in his dealings. You'll have met a lot more people if he really trusted you.

"But here you are, proud of the fact that he sends a few documents your way every now and then. You're missing at least half of what he does, you only handle his excuses and the official stories. You don't have any part in any of the actual deals either, you're just handling the formalities after the fact.

"His letter will also tell you nothing about what he's really doing, the real stuff is in code. Let me guess, you can only handle his official documents, right? He hasn't let you touch his personal correspondence."

"B-but... the baronet praises me a lot…"

Realisation was finally dawning on the young Arbeit, but he wasn't willing to accept it so easily.

"It's just lip-service. It doesn't cost him anything. If you want to hear praise, I can hire someone to sing for you all day. But that means nothing. Do you think being praised a few times makes you someone important?"

Footsteps descended the stairs and interrupted their conversation. Their mother came down with the youngest child. Morssen dropped the subject and turned to his wife and youngest son.

"My little baby's finally willing to come downstairs? Come, give daddy a hug."

A chubby gnome ignored his father completely, focusing on Clause instead.

"Brother... Hug..." Bloweyk gurgled.

Claude reluctantly put his sausage down. Of everyone in the household, he was the only one that ate meat for breakfast. No wonder he was tougher than Arbeit.

His mother didn't mind making him sausage the night before so he could have his meat for breakfast, however. Claude really missed his previous life's breakfast selection. This world didn't have soft, fluffy bread, pancakes, Chinese doughnuts (youtiao), soya beancurd, fermented beancurd, pickles, or peanuts. It was a travesty, really.

He took the little piggy from his mother's arms, pinching his bursting cheeks.

"Why are you acting up today, Puffball? How could you let mom carry you downstairs? You're getting too old to act like a baby."

The child's cheeks pushed forward and his lips puffed into a pouted.

"Mom insisted! I told her I wanted to walk down by myself, but mom said I was still small and might fall!"

Claude smiled awkwardly. How could his parents spoil the kid this much? The boy was six already but they wouldn't even let him walk down the stairs on his own. That they could still lift him up at all was incredible, however.

"Let Bloweyk walk down the stairs himself next time, Mom. We were doing it when we were three, he's six already. Look at him, he's becoming rounder by the day, he needs the exercise."

His parents wouldn't listen, however.

"Don't worry, I can still carry him," his mother said.

Morssen nodded in agreement as well.

Claude sighed and focused on toying with the little ball of fat on his lap instead.

"What does Puffball want to eat? Big Brother will get it for you."

"I want bread! With honey!" the blob shouted, pointing at the honey pot.

"Okay, okay. Daddy will spread you some honey," Morssen quickly said as he reached for the pot.

The Ferds usually had fried eggs and bread with tea and milk for breakfast. The did sometimes have wheat porridge or baked apples though. They usually had their eggs and bread with salt and Claude had his bread with slices of sausage.

The honey was only supposed to be used to flavour the tea or milk. Rather than sugar, people generally used honey since the climate was perfect for beekeeping and the species that lived in the kingdom made a lot of honey, making it affordable for even only moderately wealthy people. The only common exception was green candy, which was made from the roots of a particular plant that grew in the extreme north of the kingdom. Claude had never seen any of it, however. A common, though rarely made, dish was baked apples slathered with honey. The apples that grew on Freia were quite tart and sour, so honey made for a good balancer. Claude had in fact never seen anything resembling white or brown sugar since coming here.

That said, honey was still not cheap, one couldn't just eat it as one wished. If Arbeit, Claude, and Angelina put honey on their bread, their father would have scolded them harshly for being wasteful. Bloweyk lived by a different set of rules, however. He could have as much honey as he wanted, it almost seemed like the only reason they had honey in the house at all was so the little piggy could stuff his face with it.

"Oh, that reminds me, Instructor Mark said we're going to learn equitation starting next week. We have to pay three riyas. If we want to be tutored personally we have to rent a horse as well, it'll be a silver thale in that case," Claude explained.

"Not happening," Arbeit immediately interjected.

Whenever it came to money, Arbeit felt entitled to the final say. And whenever he opened his mouth in that regard, he turned into a pauper. Most likely he considered the household's money his already and didn't want any of it spent on his siblings.

"Don't you already know how to ride a horse? You and those rat-friends of your often rode old Benz's black horse! He had to chase you halfway down town that time! It would be a waste of money to pay for you to learn something you already know."

Benz was the town's courier. Bauker, his horse, belonged to the local post office. At the time, it was loaded with letters.

Arbeit jumped at this chance to protect his wealth since he had an excuse this time.

The kingdom's currency was relatively young; Stellin IX introduced it as one of his reforms, which also forbade the use of foreign currencies within the country.

The smallest denomination was the penny, made out of pig iron. Ten pennies made a fenny, made of bronze, and ten fennies a sunar, made of mostly copper. Ten sunars made a riyas, a small three-tenths-silver coin. Ten riyas made a thale, a large, three-fourths-silver coin.

Claude had made a few comparisons against the currency of his previous world. A penny was worth about as much as a cent, a fenny ten cents, and a sunar one buck. One riyas was ten bucks and a thale a hundred. Above silver thales was one more small coin called crowns. Each crown was about half gold and worth five thales, about 500 bucks. The largest gold coin was the sufia, worth five crowns and about nine-tenths pure gold. The biggest currency was known as Stellin's Shield, a violet-gold coin in the shape of a shield with the great Stellin IX's face engraved on its face with ten sufia. It was commonly called a shield in lieu of its shape.

The fee for equitation was thus about thirty bucks, and that was the normal price, which was already considered cheap. It paid just the horses' feed and equipment rental plus the overtime pay for the equestrians. Even the gentlest of horses couldn't withstand the young teenagers' abuse, so the school couldn't afford the extra lessons if they didn't collect fees. It couldn't be helped since the annual budget was fixed.

The rental cost of a horse, on the other hand, was one thale, more or less a hundred bucks, including personal training all the way from the basics. It, too, was a good deal.

Chapter 8 - Academic and Physical Streams

"I don't know why you think you have the right to decide I shouldn't attend the equitation class," Claude snapped, glaring at Arbeit coldly, "Compared to some fools that spent five thales on equitation lessons and still can't ride properly, I can ride a horse already, certainly much better than you. And all of that without spending a single penny! I guess you're just jealous because I have talent. You don't want me to get better because you're jealous!"

"You... Who are you calling a fool?! I... I'm not jealous!" Arbeit cried, jumping with a flushed face.

Claude had a way of striking where it hurt most.

Claude had already been in this world for six months but he still found himself baffled at his new world at times. Many things were the same in both worlds. The week was seven days, for example, Sundays were free days meant for prayer and recuperation, the country had basic education, and so on.

But there were also things that were radically different. His new world had two moons. One of the big ones was that most people were polytheists. Everyone had a primary god they worshipped most of the time, this one was usually linked to their profession, farmers worshiped the goddess of the earth, for example, sailors the god of the sea, warriors the god of war, and healers the goddess of the silver moon and the god of the sun, but they also worshipped many others depending on what they wanted.

Claude didn't care much for religion, but he was somewhat troubled by the country's education system, the syllabus specifically. It was very different from what he'd already gone through. One could choose one of two main course selections. Rather than his previous world's main choice between a science-focused or arts-focused course, people chose between a general academic course, or a physical training course. The academic course focused on teaching six subjects: language, history, arithmetic, theology, geography, and nature.

The language classes especially were very different. Hebrai, the kingdom's lingua franca was a daughter language of Hez. It was most prevalent in the east of Freia. Nasri and the now-annexed Berkeley's people spoke it natively.

The elementary school language classes were, well, elementary. They focused mainly on reading, writing and simple diction and grammar. Hebrai wasn't written in alphabetical scripts, instead it used rhombus-shaped logographs. Each symbol had two parts, a large, primary character made the upper half of the character, and the bottom half had a smaller secondary character. The calligraphic style made the words look like little ants. The primary school taught the six thousand most common graphs.

Middle school introduced the rarer graphs as well as more technical graphs for words used primarily in business and administration. They also taught the basics of two other common languages: Jimil, most common in the north, and Leishart, most common in the centre of the continent. They were sister languages of Hebrai, though they differed from one another rather significantly thanks to long independent histories of development and change.

History was one of the primary subjects in school. It being a very medieval society, however, most of it was either myth, legend, or outright propaganda. It focused exclusively on Aueras's history, and only on its glorious achievements and the lives of its kings. Stellin IX in particular took up half the year. Every test had at least a couple of questions on the Tricolour War.

Arithmetic was excruciatingly basic. Primary school only taught addition and subtraction, and middle school only multiplication and something akin to, though not exactly the same as, division. They didn't touch on geometry, substitution, or algebra. Bizarrely, however, accounting was part of the subject.

Theology focused on the superfluity of deities in the kingdom, they touched on their history, origin stories and some of the most well-known legends and myths surrounding them, but focused mainly on the various traditions and conventions of each sect, such as how to pray, special attire, what was taboo, and so on.

Geography, for all its allusion to actual science, was a business management class. It had a quick introduction on the layout of the kingdom and where one could find good resources and under what conditions, it focused mainly on how to exploit the various tribes and nations on the continent. It went into excruciating depth concerning their specialities and special needs, for example.

Nature came the closest to an actual science subject though its material was so convoluted and haphazard it was more dangerous than beneficial. There was no structure to the course or the material such that it turned mainly into a class that taught a random selection of facts and commonly held beliefs about the natural world and medicine. Most of it focused on describing plants and animals, and it had the most extensive information on those subjects. One interesting bit discussed how scholars came to decide which part of a goat's pelt would make the best scarf.

Most academic course middle-school graduates had little trouble finding work. Claude's elder brother, for example, found immediate employment with a local council representative upon his graduation.

The physical training course devoted all its time and energy on training its students' bodies. Endurance training, swordsmanship, boxing, wrestling, shot put, and stick-fighting were the most common subjects. The second year of middle school saw students take a short module in equitation and the third year offered a module in firearms maintenance and use. It felt more like a cadet bootcamp than a school.

Students weren't divided into classes for their modules, instead the teachers simply changed the topics at certain times of day. Every student, despite their course designation, took the same fundamental classes, everyone thus had done at least a little of both courses by the time they graduated.

Claude was in the physical training course due to his horrible grades. Luckily he was well-built and had decent physical ability, so much so, in fact, that he was one of the top students in his course for his year. His elder brother, of course, passed through the academic course, graduating as his year's top student. His grades were objectively depressing for his physical training subjects, however, one of if not the lowest in the school's history, in fact.

His equitation classes, for example, took him two years and cost him two silver thales, but he couldn't ride a horse even to this day. He wasn't his usual model student self during those classes either. He usually horsed around, disrupting the class.

It was an embarrassing and debilitating lack of ability, especially since horses and carriages were the only means of transport on land. Morssen hired an additional private tutor at the cost of another three thales, but the man quit after a fortnight.

"Your son rides like a log. At best he can handle a fast walk, anything more and he just bounces off. He will never ride a horse properly in his life," the man had said before leaving.

Luckily, his instructor had used his gentlest horse and only let Arbeit ride it on thick grass, so, despite countless falls, only his ego had been bruised. That said, Arbeit had been deathly afraid of horses ever since.

"Shut up!" Morssen snapped, "You are a physical training course student. Arbeit is an academic course student. Don't compare your strengths with your brother's weaknesses. I'll only allow you to lecture your brother if you graduate top of your year!"

Claude pouted. He didn't want to get first place. He had had to read the graduation essays written by every top student from every year that had passed before him. His brother's was naturally among them. It even had full marks, but Claude nearly vomited when he read it.

It praised Stellin IX with flowery, flamboyant, redundant prose. It rang hollow. It was nothing but a shallow praise-piece. He couldn't even imagine how shameless his brother was to write something like that. The instructors had no choice but to give it full marks as any correction could easily be argued to reflect a dissatisfaction with and an insult to the king.

Morssen took out a gold-laced, black deerskin pouch and removed from it a shiny thale. He twirled it in his hand a few times before plonking it on the table in front of Claude.

"I give what you deserve. I won't favour one child over another. And I won't I mistreat any of you. Since your brother spent a thale each semester on equitation, it will be no different for you. When Little Blowk grows up, he'll also get the same budget."

Claude glanced at the thale.

"But Father, I need to buy books as well. I heard Boa mention the town just got a new batch and I want to take a look."

Arbeit glared at the thale as if he was trying to melt it. He exploded when he heard Claude ask for more.

"You? Buy books? Aren't you just trying to trick Father out of more money?! You're just going to blow it with those rats you call friends! We have over a hundred books in the study. Go pick a few of them if you're so desperate to read something!"

Claude smiled.

"I'm disappointed, Elder Brother. Father let you use the study, but you didn't make good use of it. I've already read all the books. If you don't believe me, you can go check the books, I left at least one bookmark in each one I read."

"You?! You read all the books?" Morssen nearly spat his tea.

"Yes," Claude nodded, "I even sorted the books into genres. They were too disorganised."

"That's great!" Morssen grinned, taking out a small silver coin, "One riyas should be enough. Ah, whatever. I'll give you two, but they're for books only, okay?"

Claude nodded, a smile splitting his face as he took the three mints.

"Thanks. I'm done with breakfast. I should get going to school now."

He dashed upstairs and got his bag from his room in the attic.

Angelina wiped her mouth with the linen cloth and stood up.

"I'm also done," she announced, heading for the door with her bag.

"Father..." Arbeit said, glancing at Morssen.

The middle-aged man waved casually.

"You are a little too harsh on your siblings. I don't mind Claude asking me for spending money. I just don't want him to lie to me for it. It's easy to check whether he buys books with the money, so it's okay."

Chapter 9 - Two Paths

Madam Ferd, who had brought little Blowk into her arms and was busy feeding him, expressed her dissatisfaction with Arbeit.

"Arbeit, you are our eldest son, yet you haven't carried out your responsibilities as an elder brother at all. You didn't even bother to hold Little Blowk, he doesn't like you either and always cries when you get close to him.

"Claude, on the other hand, has changed a lot since he recovered from his illness. I often see him reading in a corner and his grades have improved. When I bumped into Instructor Weckham from his middle-school the other day, he couldn't stop telling me how impressed he was with Claude. He has much more mature now and frequently helps out with the chores. Not to mention how much time he spends looking after Anna and Blowk. They both like him a lot and always ask him to read them stories.

"You're the only one that seems to have a problem with him. He's your younger brother, not your opponent! You're a grown-up now and have a proper job, but that doesn't mean you can boss your brothers and sister around. You even treat our home like a hotel. You only come back for food and to sleep. I often don't see you for several days! And I've heard you even tell Anna to wash your socks and underwear. She's only twelve!

"I don't want to know where you spend all your money and I won't ask you to help with the bills, but, at the very least, you could hire a maid to clean your stuff. Anna isn't a stubborn child, so she won't say no to you, but if Claude finds out, he'll not let it go."

"Let's not sour breakfast, dear," Morssen interjected, "Arbeit, hire a maid to take care of your laundry."

Arbeit nodded stiffly.

Morssen took out his beloved black-mulberry-wood and elephant tusk pipe, a pack of tobacco, and a flint sparker. He packed his pipe lovingly and struck the sparker a few times, sucking on the pipe until he could comfortably puff smoke. He drew a deep breath from the pipe and leaned back into his chair.

"I chose this path for you so you can become a government official. You enjoyed enjoy the benefits of being a dignitarian because I am one. But only until you're 18. You're twenty now. You're just a peasant secretary now. You have to work for your dignity on your own now.

"I recommended you to Sir Fux to make it easier for you. If you win his trust, he can put in a good word for you and shorten the time you have to work by half at least. I can't help you with that anymore, it's all up to you now."

Morssen took another puff, blowing the smoke out through his nose.

"Claude is different. He's not a very smart kid, but he's good with his body. He'll graduate next year. He still has two years before he becomes a peasant. We've decided to sent him to Nubissia after he graduates. Viscount Jerrihausen Van Cruz, Claude's godfather, is the viceroy of Tyrrsim there. He will serve his term in the army under him.

"You don't have to worry about Claude taking away your share of the inheritance. He has a chance to gain great glory in the military, but it's a dangerous career. I am like you, I don't have the slightest adventurous spirit, nor courage to stand on the battlefield. I chose to become an administrative official to avoid that.

"If things go well for Claude, however, he might even come back a noble. Plus, if nothing happens to him, he'll make it up the ranks much faster than we can. Tyrrsim is newly occupied territory and there is still a lot of conflicts there, so it's the perfect place to rack up dignity and nobility. It's not an all out war, however, so it isn't too dangerous. In fact, things are more dangerous here. Nasri is rearing for another war, which is why I'm sending Claude away. I don't want him to get dragged into that."

Morssen put his pipe down, sighing. An unspoken rule in the kingdom was that every physical training course student was a reservist.

Dignitarians couldn't pass on their social status to their offspring, their children became peasants when they turned eighteen.

Claude's footsteps echoed down the stairs.

"I'm heading out!" Claude yelled as he burst into the room.

He gave Blowk's cheeks a final pinch before dashing out of the house.

Blowk opened his mouth, ready to cry. Madam Ferd hurriedly stuffed some fried egg into it, making the piggy cough. He completely forgot about the slight pain in his cheek and chewed.

"Baby, eat lots of egg and grow up quickly," Madam Ferd smiled.

"I don't want eggs. It's not sweet."

Blowk complained, shaking his head like a Japanese pellet drum.

"Eggs are usually eaten with salt. When did they become they sweet?"

"Whatever, just put some honey on them. Don't forget to brush his teeth afterwards," Morssen said as he stood up, "I'm finished too. I'm off to city hall."

"Oh, Bennie..." Morssen said as he took his hat from the rack, "I talked to Laor. He'll send someone over to take care of the cesspool. Just hand the workers a tip. Also, we have guests tonight and someone will drop of a package at noon. Just set it up, I'll handle everything else. Pjard will send someone to cook."

Madam Ferd nodded. "Alright, dear."

Morssen approached her and knelt down to give Blowk a kiss. He turned to Arbeit.

"You have to be here for dinner. You know our guests, but you must be humble so they get a good impression of you, okay?"

......

Two boys, dressed similarly to Claude, awaited him outside the shop opposite his house.

"You're here! Where's Boa?" Claude asked, crossing the street.

The taller one was Welikro Fezka, the son of a hunter, named Kubrik. His father was a veteran of two wars, he was a lucky one who made it through both unharmed. The cost thereof, however, was that he didn't earn any decent dignity. He ascended to the dignitry after the usual fifteen years of service and returned to Whitestag to find a wife and start a family. His eldest child was a girl, his youngest thus far was Welikro, two years his sister's junior.

The one next to him was Eriksson Altroni, a tad shorter but stockily built. His father was a sailor and his family owned a fishing boat called the 'Shark of Red Sea'. It was occasionally used as a transport ship and was known quite well in town as a result.

"He'll come later. Did you get the money?" Eriksson asked.

Boa was a boy's nickname, Eriksson's was Eyke, and Welikro's was Wero. Boa as the town's wealthiest merchant's son, Borkal Bodeman. The three were Claude's good friends and yearmates in middle-school.

His former self's illness was actually their doing. The four went ice fishing during the previous year's winter. Incautious as teen boys their age were, Claude fell through the ice into the freezing water. His three friends pulled him out and took him home, but he fell ill shortly afterwards. The three had yet to go to his house since, they were too afraid of his parents.

"Yup, I got it. Dad gave me a thale. What about you?"

"I also got some. Mine tossed me a thale when I told him," Eriksson smiled happily.

"What about you, Wero?"

"My sister said we didn't have the money, so she gave me two goatskins to sell instead. She doesn't care how much I get for them, though," Welikro answered shyly.

Claude finally noticed the puffing sack by Welikro's feet.

"No worries," Claude consoled, "You don't have to worry about the fee as long as we're here. We'll figure something out if the pelts don't make enough."

The four had already decided to share horses since it cost a thale per horse. It was much more effective use of their money, not only did they save some, but the horses wouldn't stand idle when they weren't taking lessons.

"I'm here!" Borkal, a chub, yelled as he came running.

He stopped mid-sentence at a biscuit stall.

"I want a biscuit, that one--"

"Cut it into four pieces!" Eriksson shouted quickly.

Claude walked up to Borkal and slapped his wobbling belly.

"You came here without breakfast? I think it's about time you lost weight. You won't die if you starve a bit."

"Come on," Borkal moaned as he swatted Claude's hand away, "I woke up late and had nothing but a cup of tea. I ran all the way here too, I deserve a biscuit!"

"Two sunars, thank you," the stallkeep smiled, handing over the quartered biscuit.

Each took a piece without hesitation. Borkal kept complaining as he paid.

"You are going too far. You're robbing me of my breakfast."

Eriksson swallowed his bite quickly.

"Claude's right. It's about time you lost some weight. Eating less is good for you."

Chapter 10 - History Lesson

Whitestag Middle School stood on a small hill just north of the town. Claude and his three companions arrived five minutes before class started, right before the gates closed.

Stellin IX had ordered the school's construction. The war's first shot had been fired on that hill, and the king wanted the town to grow prosperously because of its historical and personal significance.

The prince's old army camp was turned into a memorial. A large plaque stood by its entrance. A majestic sculpture of the prince on horseback with his gun also adorned the site. Nobody knew it, but the first shot missed its mark. His subordinates rushed in immediately after and attacked his attackers.

Claude was in the second year. His year had four classes in total, three boys classes, 200 students in total, and one girls class, 32 students. Boys and girls had the same rights to education, but most parents prioritised their sons. Some could only afford to send one child to school and sent their son rather than their daughter.

While the schools were allowed to take in girls, they kept them separate from the boys as much as possible to avoid trouble. Almost all the girls were also in the academic course. While their subjects were identical to the boys', their physical training course subjects were replaced with flower arrangement, painting, art appreciation, sewing, cooking, and other household-related subjects. They could sign up for swordsmanship and equitation if they wanted, it just wasn't mandatory as it was for the boys.

The day had six classes, three in the morning and three in the afternoon. Unlike Claude's past life, each period lasted an hour with a 20-minute break between sessions. Morning classes started at eight and ended around half-past eleven. The school provided lunch, and the students were free to walk around on school grounds, but not to leave. Their first afternoon session began at one and classes continued until around five.

Academic course subjects were usually taught in the morning. Claude had language, arithmetic, and history on this particular day. He sat at the row right at the back because he was the tallest in class and because the instructors tended to let physical training course students sit at the back, to keep them from disturbing the students that actually wanted to pay attention.

But when Claude raised his grades to average, his homeroom instructor asked him whether he wanted to move up a few rows so the instructors could pay more attention to him. He declined, however. He wanted to keep a low profile to avoid anyone asking unwelcome question and maybe realising what he was.

"...Even under heavy fire, the great prince didn't lose his confidence. His Highness resolutely refused his subordinates' wish to leave the battlefield. He stood on the highest point he could find to observe the enemy as they closed in despite being at risk of being shot by enemy artillery or stray bullets. His Highness soon noticed a weakness in the enemy lines. Their artillery was far from their main forces. He ordered his guards to circle around and attack their artillery.

"They were the last of the prince's reserves. Out of worry for his safety, his subordinates strongly advised against it but he wouldn't budge.

'As the commander of such brave men, I should lead them to victory as they fight. I cannot retreat and leave them behind. Go fight. I will stand here and watch over you as you plant the banner of victory in the enemy's camp.'

"Motivated by the prince's speech, the guards charged like fierce tigers and took the enemy camp in one fell-swoop. They then turned the artillery on the enemy and won the day. The enemy scattered, and the prince ran them down, conquering Engelir Hill.

"His Highness, with fewer than eight thousand men, defeated the enemy's 20 thousand. About 15 thousand enemies died. Not only was the Triumph of Engelir Hill the first battle His Highness fought in the north, it was also the first triumph that led to the kingdom's restoration. This battle symbolised not only the first proper victory on the battlefield, it also..."

The third morning session trudged on. The history instructor, Mister Ellim, read the textbook monotonously from behind the podium, pretending not to hear the hushed whispers of his students. As long as the students didn't get in the way of his reading, Ellim usually didn't care about class discipline. They considered him the best teacher because of that.

Claude yawned uncontrollably. Welikro had long fallen asleep next to him, snorting occasionally. Eriksson and Borkel whispered incessantly as they wrote stuff on their papers from time to time.

Claude flipped through his textbook out of boredom. Even if he were interested in the kingdom's history, he had been learning about the same thing in class from his first year in elementary school. Everything they learned concerned the kingdom. Everyone was sick of it at this point.

As a transmigrator, Claude was more interested in the history of the whole continent. His textbook only provided the briefest of summaries, however. One of the taboo words, however, attracted the transmigrator's attention.

Magic.

The textbooks said there used to be a millennia-long dark age. Evil magi used ruled the continent. But five hundred years before his arrival, the stonemasons formed an underground brotherhood to fight against them. They fought for eighty years and final defeated the magi, chasing them off the continent to a small island called Siklos.

The brotherhood's leader, Regius Au Syr, founded the first dynasty, Amsra, on Freia and titled three thousand nobles to rule over the land.

The magi weren't willing to accept their loss, however. They hatched one plot after the other to bring the new order crashing down in the flames of chaos and war. They finally succeeded when Emperor Regius Au Syr passed away and everything fell apart. The nobles turned on one another and the continent was plunged into a century of war.

Three centuries ago, a minor noble, Baron Aueras Tam Stellin, decided to end the chaos. He took his warriors on a grand campaign which saw him conquer a massive swathe of the continent over several years. He died before he could form the lands into a kingdom, however, but his son successfully held everything together and did so a few years after his death. His son named the kingdom after his father, Aueras.

That was as far as the textbooks went concerning the rest of the world. Everything else was only about the kingdom and its kings.

This is odd, Claude thought.

All the historical records merely glossed over the time of the magi. Even the novels superficially depicted the brave knights defeating the magi and saving the damsels in distress in the end. They never said why the magi were supposedly evil. Everyone just accepted that they were, as if it were a law of nature.

Did the world really have magic? Claude remembered asking as much once when he was younger. His father gave him a good hiding as an answer. The man told him repeatedly as he flogged him that the magi were the physical manifestations of evil, even just using the word magic was forbidden. Magic was nothing but misfortune and had to be eradicated as soon as it was discovered.

"Hey, Claude! What are you thinking about?" Borkal called softly.

Claude snapped out of his dreams.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just dozing."

Borkal handed him a piece of paper.

"Take a look. These are the things Eyke and I need. Did we miss anything?"

Their camping shopping list covered the paper. They didn't have to buy much since they could gather most of it from their homes.

"Wero says he has a tent at home and Eyke says we can use the tents from his father's ship. Two tents should be enough. Wero can bring his father's gun, but we'll have to buy gunpowder and bullets. He doesn't have many left. Eyke'll bring a pistol but its rounds won't work with Wero's musket."

Borkal briefed Claude thoroughly as the teacher chattered on.

"We'll spend the most money on renting a boat. Sunny said we can rent his boat for two days for four riyas, but I got him down to just three riyas and two sunars. He won't leave the nets though. I thought it wouldn't be a problem since we will only go to Egret for a quick camp."

Claude pointed at the four bottles of gran wine listed on the paper.

"What's with this? We don't need this for our trip, do we?"

Borkal chuckled. "Well... I heard Wero say the nights in the mountains are cold, so his father always takes alcohol to warm himself. I thought that, since we are camping near the coast, we should take a few bottles along."

Claude snorted. Everyone knew 16-year-olds were most curious. Given that they couldn't drink alcohol at home, Borkal didn't want to miss this chance to get his hands on some.

Borkal would definitely regret it, no doubt at all. Gran wine wasn't good wine, it was nothing like the stuff he had at home. It was the harsh stuff sailors drank when they were out at sea. It would be more accurate to describe it as a mild acid.

Chapter 11 - Lake Island Egret

It was currently the 23rd of the 5th month in the 574th year of the sacred light calendar, a Tuesday. Legend had it the calendar was created by the mason brotherhood's leader. The first year started the day his empire was found, and ran for a full cycle of the seasons. When his empire collapsed and the successor kingdoms formed in its wake, most of them inherited the calendar and it was used ever since.

The celebration of Stellin IX's victory in the Tricolour War would be celebrated in four days, on Saturday the 27th. His successor, Stellin X declared the day a holiday soon after his father passed away. He called it Restoration Day.

The school was required to join the celebrations, so it only had morning classes that day. Overall, school usually had classes for six days a week, with Sundays being the day off. Claude and the others thus had a rare two consecutive off-ish days.

Unlike in his previous world, schools didn't have breaks. The whole year was a single, continuous semester. Classes ran from the 2nd to the 11th month without pause, save for Sundays and special holidays. Only the single two-month holiday around winter new-years broke the monotony. It was called the Rest of Winter, or winter's rest. It spanned the worst of winter when the snowfall made most travel impossible and most people all but hibernated indoors.

Since they would have two and a half days off, Borkal and Eriksson had started planning where they would go. Claude and Welikro didn't really mind. But Borkal and Eriksson's ideas were always funny and odd. They eventually settled on camping on Egret.

The island was less than ten kilometers from Whitestag on Lake Balinga, but Claude had never visited it before.

The mountain folk living in the southwest saw a white stag, a symbol of peace and bliss, near Lake Balinga a millennium ago. They quickly settled nearby and the village eventually became Whitestag Town. Egret was named in the same manner, after the masses of egrets that lived on the island.

People later realized the island wasn't so simple. It was an atoll that separated Lake Balinga from the sea. Its presence was what kept the storms from swamping the town. The only problem was that the water took longer to drain away after a storm because the island also kept it back.

The island was rumoured to have much more than just egrets. Otters, stone foxes, panthers, and other valuable animals were said to also live on the island. A few rumours even claimed there was a lot of medicinal plants. Despite the countless rumours, few went to the island.

It was mostly because it was very dangerous. The atoll had a massive ruin which legend said was the rubble left behind by a collapsed magic tower. It was thus related to the evil magi, which, in the minds of the townsfolk, meant the entire island was cursed.

Borkal and Eriksson hadn't been to the island before either. Of the four, only Welikro had followed his father there on a hunting trip a couple of times during his school breaks. The first time, they went there to hunt stone foxes. They spent most of their second time picking a certain kind of herb.

Welikro's suggestion was well-received by the clique's two daredevils, Eriksson and Borkal. Youth was curiosity... and reckless courage. Claude, being a transmigrator, didn't really mind the scary tales. He was especially interested in the ruins and intended to go check it out, so he agreed as well.

"We'll leave through the back wall after lunch and meet up at Mock's Goods to sell the skins," Borkal whispered as he pointed at Welikro's sack.

Claude nodded. The wall behind the school yard had been eroded by the weather and was used as an unofficial exit for students. Almost everyone knew about it, but nobody bothered to report it to the school board to have it fixed.

Even if the administration knew about it, they couldn't fix it quickly. The money would have to be requisitioned from the town government. Someone would come to survey the damage and guesstimate the repair costs. They would return to the government, who would debate its necessity and how to finance it. It would take months at best to pass this stage. Then the plans would be drafted and the mayor would review and sign it. If the mayor rejected the proposal, then the whole process would have to be started in the following financial year.

As such, even though the school knew about the hole, they turned a blind eye. Perhaps they were waiting for a few more holes to open up so they could make a more concerned request for the whole wall to be rebuilt.

The school lunch was plain and hard to swallow. Today had a scoop of mashed potato and meat gruel, two pieces of black bread, a paper-thin strip of bacon, and a baby-fist-sized baked apple. However, the red vegetable soup served in a large pot in the canteen could be drunk as much as wanted.

It was enough to fill the students' stomachs, but it was far from a delicious. The school changed the menu from time to time by swapping mashed potatoes for wheat porridge or the thin strip of bacon for some cheese and fresh lettuce.

The school didn't even serve butter. The canteen only had some salt.

Borkal bit his black bread sufferingly.

"Too dry... I want mutton biscuits... Delicious and crunchy, juicy and oily..."

Eriksson cleared his mashed potato.

"Who asked you to eat the bacon first? How can you stomach the bread alone? It tastes like sawdust! Maybe you should get soup instead."

"I don't wanna," Borkal complained, "You know it makes me throw up. I don't know why, but I think about how my shoes smell whenever I see it. It's too disgusting."

"Eat quickly, stop talking shit. Claude and Wero have already gone back to class. If you don't mind starving until tonight, feel free to not eat. Maybe we can even buy some mutton biscuits for you later." Eriksson said, eyeing Borkal.

"Dream on," Borkal humphed as he stuffed his mouth with bread, "I only get two riyas a month. The mutton biscuit I bought this morning already cost me a tenth of my allowance, and you guys even took most of it."

"Well, you are the richest of us." Eriksson shrugged, "You're not satisfied with two riyas a month? My dad gives me one riyas if he's in a good mood, a kick otherwise. And he spends most of his time on his boat. I don't see him every month, much less get a riyas.

"Claude's situation is more or less the same. His dad won't give him an allowance. His mother sneaks him a riyas now and again. Wero's thrifty sister won't give him anything since she's saving for her dowry."

Seeing Borkal unable to talk back, Eriksson laughed.

"Claude is right. We are good friends, brothers, even. Your allowance is our allowance. You can't be like this with our friendship. Anyway, time to go. Claude and Wero are calling. Let's go. Even if you don't get to buy a mutton biscuit, we can get something else."

"I feel something's off somewhere," Borkal muttered as he looked at Eriksson's back and back to his black bread, "Well, I suppose I should go get a mutton biscuit after all."

The four left through the hole without issue.

"Why are you going to Mock's Goods to sell the skins? Chirp Leather is the largest, right?" Claude asked.

"Wero's skins have been left for quite a while," Borkal replied, "Not only are they not shiny, they're a little damaged. They won't fetch a good price at Chirp Leather, they probably won't pay more than six riyas. We can negotiate at Mock's Goods. We'll get around eight or nine riyas from him."

"Claude, you really don't frequent the market often enough. It's no wonder you don't understand that shop," Eriksson added, "It's one of the oldest in town. It's currently being run by the family's third generation. They mainly deal with sailors and peddlers, who come from all over and bring all sorts of weird and uniques things."

"However, it seems their shop doesn't collect or deal with those things anymore," Borkal said, "At the end of last year when the former owner went to fetch some goods from the mountains, his carriage slid off the road and he fell into a ravine. Later, when his eldest son took over, he changed it from a general shop to one specializing in fishing gear and other necessities for boats.

"There are a lot of fishing gear that are made from skin, but Chirp Leathers is the largest buyer of skin in town. So, Mock's Goods can only count on sporadic sellers like us. I believe he'll offer us a good price for the skins."

Chapter 12 - Mock's Goods

The old street was said to be among the first built in the town. The settlers that founded Whitestag initially built it to connect the town to Lake Balinga and the jetty there. Later, people built their houses and shops on both sides of the road. It turned into the town's main street.

Whitestag slowly grew from a hamlet, to a village, to a full-fledged town. As it did, its central business district shifted further and further east. Nowadays, the old street was the messiest jetty slum in town.

Claude the transmigrator had never gone there. He recalled his body's last owner that he had been there twice. The first was when he went fishing near the public jetty. The other was when he stole Old Benz's horse for a ride, startling it and causing it to gallop to the slums and onto the jetty. Eriksson, who sat on the horse's back behind him, was completely terrified. The people who chased behind them could barely breathe by the end of it.

Those two visits had been brief and passing at best. Nothing happened, so he didn't have any strong impression of the place. However, the four's parents had warned them to not play there again after the last incident.

It didn't seem dangerous though. There were only two rows of run-down huts along the street and a few people passed by occasionally.

"It looks peaceful, right?" Eriksson said, knowing Claude's thoughts.

Claude nodded.

"Dad told me the security here is bad and forbade me from coming here. It doesn't look much different from the other parts of town."

"Your dad is right. This is the most dangerous part of town. Don't be fooled by the calm. It's still day now, things are completely different at night..."

"Hahaha," Borkal laughed. "Eyke, you told this was the merriest in town. You told me women filled the street at night and that the sailors came here to have fun. What is this about danger now?"

Claude realised what was going on and changed the topic.

"Is Mock's Goods nearby?"

"No, it's further ahead. It's almost at the end of the street, near the jetty. See it? It's that grey two-storey building over there," Eriksson answered as he pointed down the road.

The grey two-storey building was actually five lots in a row connected. The lower floor was filled with storefronts. Claude didn't see a sign with, only a new wooden plaque with 'Mock's Fishing and Boat Tools'.

The three shops to its left were already open. Many linen ropes hung outside the shop. A rolled-up sail and large and medium barrels lined the storefront. The outside of one of the shops was covered in scaffolding. The oldest two shops were being renovated.

"That's Mock's Goods," Eriksson said as he pointed at the scaffolds, "The three on the left are also theirs, but they rented them to someone else. The guy opened a restaurant. Pijak's son ended the lease when he took over so it's fallen back to him."

"Are you sure it'll really buy our pelts?" Claude asked.

"Yes. I'm Eriksson, the young master of the Shark of Red Sea. My father is the famed Captain Altroni and half the sailors here know me. I get to hear about what happens on the jetty faster than anyone else. I found out about Wakri changing his shop long ago. I also know all about what he buys and sells."

"Well, I bet anyone who isn't blind is aware of that," Borkal chirped, pointing at two large wooden boards.

The boards depicted the goods and prices sold at the shop while the smaller ones displayed what the shop bought though they weren't priced.

"Wakri went to Chirp Leather hoping to buy fur and pelts off them as part of a long-term deal. They turned him away so now the stores are competitors. He will buy Wero's pelts for a higher price," Borkal said confidently.

"Uncle Wakri? Uncle Wakri! Are you here?" Eriksson called out as they entered the empty shop.

"Who is it?" a voice called from somewhere in the darkness further inside. A tall, lanky man in his forties stepped out, chewing something.

Ah, they had forgotten it was noon. Wakri was probably having lunch.

"Oh, it's Lil' Eyke. What brings you here?" the middle-aged man asked in a muddled voice.

Eriksson didn't notice he had interrupted the man's lunch at all.

"My classmate was about to take two pelts to Chirp Leathers. I remembered you buy leather as well and dragged him here instead. I told him you pay much better than them."

"Oh? What pelt?--" Wakri chewed on his food a little faster and swallowed. "--Let me take a look. If it is good, I'll make a good offer."

"It's goat pelts," Eriksson said honestly, beckoning Welikro over.

Wakri inspected the pelts closely. He appeared a practiced hand.

"If you take these to Chirp Leathers, you'll only get six riyas. Since Lil' Eyke brought you here, I won't disappoint. How about seven riyas?" Wakri offered after a while.

"Nine and they're yours." Brokal immediately started bargaining.

"No, no, no. Nine riyas is too much. Nobody would pay that much for these two. Just look at them. New pelts might fetch that price, but not these two."

Wakri put the pelts down.

"If you insist on this price, then I'm afraid you'll have to go try your luck with Chirp Leathers. Who knows? Maybe they'll buy them."

"Come on, Uncle Wakri, just raise the price a bit. I'll get him to lower his. It's troublesome to have to come all the way here," Eriksson chirped.

Wakri sighed.

"Fine, seven riyas and four sunars. Only because Lil' Eyke's here."

"Eight riyas and you have a deal," Borkal countered immediately, "Uncle Wakri, unlike normal leather shops, you use the pelts you buy to make fishing and boat supplies. You need wild animal pelts because they keep heat better and are water resistant. You don't really care about the size.

"That's because even the largest goods you make are leather vests and gloves and shoes. The leftovers can be cut into threads and woven into fishing nets. You can easily make a nice profit even if you buy these for eight riyas.

"His dad's Kubrik Fezka. I'm sure you've heard of him. He's the best hunter in Whitestag. If you buy his pelts for eight riyas, I believe his dad will stop selling to Chirp Leathers. If word of this spreads, all the hunters will know where they ought to sell their catches."

Wakri stared at the group for a few moments before finally yielding.

"Fine, eight riyas. You better make sure your father comes here next time."

Nobody could promise that, but they knew if Welikro's thrifty sister found out about how much the man had paid for the pelts, she would not let her father sell them to Chirp Leathers, so they quickly agreed.

"We also want to buy something. Do you still have some of the stuff you sold before?"

Eriksson was almost dumbstruck. He had seen the board outside, much of the stuff they wanted to buy wasn't on it.

"What are you looking for?" Wakri asked, handing Welikro his eight riyases.

"Bullets, gunpowder, sulphur, and lime powder, and some bug repellant."

"Oh, it's all inside. Come and take a look. I only put our main products on the board."

The inside was more or less the same size as the storefront. Only, the wooden windows at the rearmost wall were smaller and there were a number of wooden sticks rested against it, so the lighting wasn't that good. But it was a sunny afternoon, so it was still enough to see.

"Whoa! You put your gem all the way back here?" Eriksson yelped as his gaze caught on the silver-yellow shortsword hanging on the wall.

"Hey, you guys, come take a look! This is that precious ivory shortsword I told you about."

A one by half a meter box hung on the wall. Inside, a dark-blue velvet cloth hung. In the middle of it was a short, silver-yellow shortsword about seventy centimetres long.

Claude recalled Eriksson had called it a precious weapon. The handle was said to be made entirely of ivory and its body was silver-yellow. The blade was rumoured to be forged of a metal alloy mixed with a meteorite and be able to cut through other metal easily. It was a weapon fitting of the label 'treasure'.

Everybody knew its story. The first owner of Mock's Goods saved a troubled captain at sea. The captain turned out to be a foreign noble. After he recovered enough to return to his kingdom, he gave the sword to Mock.

Someone had once offered him ten crowns for the sword, but Mock wouldn't sell. He treated it like an heirloom. It was passed down to his son upon his death, and to his grandson upon his.

"How much is it worth?" Borkal asked habitually.

"Can it really cut metal?" Welikro chirped.

Claude shrugged. He believed it was nothing more than an ornament nobles used to show off their wealth. The ivory handle was definitely not as tough as a normal hemp-wrapped one. Putting aside the latter's sweat absorption, the sheer force from strikes would be enough crack the ivory. Naturally, it was a whole other story if the sword could really cut metal like mud.

"What type of bullets and gunpowder are you looking for?" Wakri asked, ignoring their questions completely.

Chapter 13 - Cookbook

"I want Gally Mark 3 balls and gunpowder, and some for my father's short-barrelled pistol," Eriksson answered.

Welikro's father, Kubrik, had served in the military for 15 years before retiring as a dignitarian, so he could carry a firearm legally. He had used the Gally Mark 3 and had kept it when he retired.

"A Gally Mark 3 matchlock, huh? That's an old one. It uses number two balls and number one dry gunpowder. Your father's short-barrelled pistol uses small number seven pellets and gunpowder mixed with egg white powder. How much do you want?"

"Where's our shopping list, Boa?" Eriksson asked.

Claude had yet to see the guns of this world, so he was rather curious.

"Eyke, aren't the balls and gunpowder standardised? Why are there different numbers?"

"The barrels of different guns have different diameters, so they need different size balls. As the bullets get smaller or bigger the gunpowder needed changes as well. Small guns and shipboard cannons mix their gunpowder with egg white powder so they can fire even in humid conditions," Welikro chimed.

He was the firearms expert in the group since he'd already been taught how to use a gun when he was eleven.

"Alright, leave the shopping to Boa. Let's go look at those shelves over there. Those things are mostly brought here by sailors. I remember seeing a black wooden mask I thought would make a wonderful decoration on my wall. A shame I didn't have enough money. I came back a few days later, but it was already sold," Eriksson said, disappointment flashing across his face.

The wooden shelves were messy. Wooden bowls, porcelain containers, stone sculptures, bracelets, even daggers, decorated their tops in haphazard clumps and bunches. Claude even saw a bronze helmet next to a one-horned cow figure made of woven rattan. Was it... a toy? There was also an oddly shaped obsidian axe. Who knew where its seller got it.

The pirate figures were pretty decent. Maybe the sailors carved them while out at sea out of boredom. Claude decided to ask how much they cost and to get them for his little puffball if they weren't too much. His thoughts were cut short, however, when someone else caught his eye.

The bottom shelf in front of him had a black book. Its dark cover appeared leathery. He touched it gently to confirm his suspicion. It was covered in a thick layer of dust.

Was it really a book? Books shouldn't be so thin... There were only a couple dozen pages at most. That said, they were thick, most likely made of leather as well...

Claude couldn't tear his eyes away from the book. He slipped his fingers under it, and, wiping the dust off, picked it up. Despite its size, it was heavy. He opened it slowly.

Three potatoes... Ugh, the lighting was bad. The wooden shelves blocked most of it. He didn't feel like moving and his gaze lost focus. He suddenly dropped the book.

"What's going on? What happened?" Eriksson asked as he darted over.

Welikro also turned around.

"You alright?" he asked.

Claude shook his head slightly and tried to subdue his panic.

"I'm fine. I wanted to pick this up, but it was heavier than I expected."

Picking up the book he dropped, Claude brought it to the window and flipped it open again. He opened it slowly, like its leather wouldn't bend.

Faint, black words covered the aged, yellowing pages. The tadpole-like characters had blurred as the ink had bled over the years, but most was still legible.

Three potatoes, steamed halfway, skin removed, mash them. Add two eggs, spring onion and ground vegetables, flour, and water. Add salt and stir until it turns to paste. Press it flat and round and grill in an oiled pan until it turns golden. Season to taste...

Was... was this a cookbook? Wait, what about what he'd seen for a moment?

Claude quickly flipped to the pages at the back. No, just a plain cookbook. It had 17 recipes, each recorded on a each page. They ranged from things like fried green carp, baked onion mutton ribs, steamed mutton meatballs, to pizzas and even fried chicken.

Claude weighed the book in his hands and felt like laughing. It had to be a restaurant's cookbook. It had 17 dishes beyond even Claude's family's financial means despite their lofty position in the town. They had mutton or beef steak from time to time, but simple meat slices and vegetables were as far as their diet went.

Then again, the restaurant must've spent a lot on the book. They even used beastskin for the pages. Claude's textbooks and the books sold in the town's bookshops were mostly made of cheap papyrus. A few books with leather covers appeared a couple of times a year, but they were rare and expensive.

But what about what he saw? He could have sworn the pages had caught fire in his hands. He saw, through the flames, a snow white page covered in text written in dark blue ink. Had he hallucinated?

He checked the cookbook again, but noticed nothing. Maybe he had really hallucinated... Just as he was about to put the book back on the shelf, he stopped.

He saw it in the bad lighting when he tried to focus more intently. Maybe that was somehow a condition for him to see it?

He opened the book again and focused on its pages intensely. A few pregnant moments passed before the pages changed like before. The two pages in view blanched as their text faded and row after row of dark blue ink surfaced, almost like water staining the paper.

The characters were nothing like the tadpoles he knew. Though they were also rhombus-shaped, each consisted of many strokes, like a complicated musical chord. Ancient Hez.

Middle-school students were expected to learn Jimil and Leishart in school, both of which were also descended from Hez, so they were taught a few things about the ancient language. That said, they were taught only the bare minimum.

The reason Claude could even recognise the characters was thanks to his half a year of non-stop study. He couldn't actually read the script, however. Both the script and the language was foreign to him.

Hebrai's diction was primarily purely Hezian, though the pronunciations and morphology of the words was much simplified. The writing was also analogous to Simplified and Traditional Chinese. Hezian characters and modern scripts were based on the same fundamentals, but the modern scripts lacked most of the constituent parts essential to Hez. Claude could, here and there, guess at the meaning of one or two of the characters by picking out bits of them he understood, but all of the subtleties carried in the rest of the characters were lost to him. He couldn't even tell if the bits he recognised were the primary bits of the characters, or peripheral modifiers.

Arrive... Tavern... Lunch... Menu... Ask... Purchase... Magic…

The meanings, or modifiers, came to him laboriously.

Magic? This... this was a magical cookbook?! If it were true, this would be the first time in the six months since his reincarnation that he'd come across a magic item.

Until now, he'd only known of their existence, but never seen one. He could only count on his former occupant's memories. They told him magic did indeed exist, or at least, everyone sincerely believed it did, but it was a severe, the ultimate in fact, taboo.

Death was all that awaited those that dabbled in its study. Death, or a life of hiding.

Claude didn't know why everyone was so afraid of magic, but it did nothing to stifle his curiosity, if anything, it only amplified it. Now, more than ever, certainly, that he had an item related to it in his hands. He was somewhat disappointed that his first such encounter should be with a… cookbook.

"What are you looking at?" Eriksson asked, appearing beside Claude out of nowhere.

"A cookbook?" the boy asked, peeking over Claude's shoulder, "Three potatoes, steamed halfway, skin removed, mash them. Haha, so you were reading a cookbook! Why would you read it so intensely you wouldn't hear me calling you? You want to eat potato biscuits?"

"... Can you see these blue words?" Claude asked.

He caught himself and quickly changed his tune.

"Ah, nothing. My mind wandered."

Eriksson had heard him, however, and his interest was piqued as well.

"Blue words? What blue words? Aren't they all black? Let me have a look."

He snatched the book out of Claude's hands before he could do anything and flipped through it just as quickly.

"I don't see any blue words. That said, it's not half bad. Red-wine simmered smoked goose-drumsticks... I should have my mom make it for me."

"No, try to focus hard. See any blue words appearing?" Claude asked.

"Really?"

Eriksson glared at the book, but nothing happened and he soon gave up.

"I don't see any blue words. My eyes are tired. Still nothing. Wait a bit, let me take it to the window and see if the pages are see through."

That, too, didn't work and Eriksson soon plopped the book on the table.

"It's heavy, something's odd for sure, but no blue words."

Claude nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps his mental power was unlike others' and that was why he could see it? He already had quite a bit better hearing than others and could imagine things quite a bit better as well. He could even, at times, imagine a scene based on what he heard. Perhaps it was part of his mental strength?

"Maybe the light hit the pages in a way that made the words seem blue," Claude said, trying to hide his blunder away.

He focused right in front of Eriksson this time, but again the words and ivory pages appeared. He stopped the moment he saw the changes, however, afraid Eriksson would notice, but the boy stared at him incredulously.

"I want to buy it. Can you ask how much it costs?"

"You want to buy it?" Eriksson asked, somewhat surprised.

"Mother's birthday is around the corner. This will make a good gift. You know I can't afford expensive things. That's Dad's area. I might just be able to afford this. Plus I'll get great food if she makes these recipes."

"Good idea. But are you sure you want to buy it? We can just copy it. I'm sure Uncle Wakri won't mind."

Claude shook his head.

"Didn't you just say the book felt heavy? It feels really luxurious too. I can tell my mom it was passed down some royal family for several generations or something. It'll certainly be better than giving her copied recipes."

"Fine. I'll ask." Eriksson said as he took the book.

"Oh, and these four figures and that silver hairpin too. I want to buy them for my little brother and sister. I'll take them and ask for the price with you. Can I borrow some money from you guys if I don't have enough? I'll pay you back."

"You're a good older brother, huh?" Eriksson praised.

Chapter 14 - Obtained

When they left Mock's Fishing and Boat Tools, Claude had incurred a debt of one silver thale and three riyas.

Each figure had cost two sunars, the same as a mutton biscuit, so four cost eight sunars. The silver flower hairpin was much more expensive. Which was to be expected considering it was made of pure silver instead of being just silver-plated copper. Wakri demanded five riyas, which was still a fair price.

Which left the cookbook. Wakri said he'd found it by his father's bed. It was one of the things the man had left him. He didn't understand why his father kept it so jealously, it was apparent it was an antique of some kind.

It was just a cookbook, but Wakri was intent on getting a high price for it, two silver thales it cost Claude in the end.

Trade was doing really well under Stellin X and prices were generally stable. A normal household normally had an income of six sunars a day. Six bucks was enough for a family of six or seven to live without concern for covering all their necessary expenses. A common laborer earned one or two thales a month -- one to two hundred bucks.

Claude’s father was Whitestag's chief secretary, but his salary wasn’t that high. He only earned three thales a month. Benefits, allowances, and subsidies included, he made at most five thales. His investments and properties multiplied his effective income a couple of times, however.

Claude’s elder brother earned two thales as Sir Fux’s personal secretary. While it wasn’t a high salary, he did side jobs through his employer's contacts earned him quite a bit more on busy months.

It helped that Sir Fux wasn’t stingy. He always made sure his subordinates enjoyed some of the benefits his position afforded him. As such, Arbeit's salary eclipsed even his father's from time to time. He never contributed any of it to the household, however. He remained the same leech he'd been as a child. He didn't even pay the head tax demanded of him as a peasant. He left it to his father instead.

Though the two thales Wakri charged for the book wasn’t excessive, it was still only a cookbook. Some books sold in the town’s bookstores were six to seven decades old and even they cost only slightly more than a thale.

Eriksson, Borkal, and Welikro felt the book wasn’t worth it. They quickly tried to persuade Claude against buying it. It would be better to buy an exquisite notebook to copy the recipes, but Claude wouldn't budge.

Claude couldn't explain why he absolutely had to buy the book. He knew the leather book wasn’t a simple antique. Two thales wasn’t excessive at all. It was quite cheap, actually. Very cheap. It would be his life's regret if he didn't get the book.

None of this, however, could be aired to his companions.

He finally understood how limiting not having money truly was. His efforts had been focused on fitting in so far, he hadn't thought of money even once. He was just a 16-year-old schoolboy, after all. Opportunities for earning was few and far in between to say the least.

He only had two riyas, and only because his father gave them to him that morning and the four sunars his mother had slipped him. He could afford the figurines and the hairpin, the book was beyond his wealth.

Borkal had quite the sum on him, in contrast. He'd been given the four's fees for the equitation classes and was acting as their unofficial treasurer. They had already paid the school for the two horses and the tuition fee they paid on Welikro's behalf. They only had a single thale left.

That said, it was already reserved for their adventure on Egret. They had just bought a bunch of things. Even if they included Welikro's eight riyas he got from the pelts, they could only raise at most one thale and two or three riyas amongst them.

He was dead set on getting the book, however. How could he not learn the secrets of magic after transmigrating to a world with it? Even if the mere mention of it made people pale, so what? It would not stimey his curiosity.

That was especially so given how his mental power was different from other people. Like the webnovels he had once read, he was someone filled with talent for magic. He was a magic genius. Perhaps this was the key to a protagonist life! His ultimate cheat!

The book was the first opportunity he got to touch magic. No matter what, he had to get it, even if it meant murder or arson.

Claude simulated countless attempts at sneaking into the shop and burn it down in an instant. He considered his decent physical ability and his tall lanky build. After guessing their relative strength, however, he grit his teeth and made up his mind.

"Please lend me all the money you have," he said sincerely, "I want to buy it. Please don't ask me why, I don't really know. I just have to have it. Boa, Eyke, please bargain for me. As for the money I borrow, I'll pay it back in three days, okay?"

What a joke. Murdering and committing arson just for the sake of a cookbook. Even his father had said the jetty slum was one of the most dangerous places in town. For Wakri to operate such a huge shop in this place meant he had his ways of dealing with unwelcome visitors. This was a shop that had been run for three generations. It wasn't something just anyone could cross. Putting aside barging in to rob it during midnight, he wouldn't even stand a chance of getting away. He might become one of the many missing townspeople instead.

His friends were true, however. They didn't hesitate at his request and handed over their money. They also haggled with the proprietor for nearly a quarter of an hour before settling on a thale and several sunars.

Claude used his remaining money to buy the hairpin and four pirate figurines. Borkal and the rest also bought a lot of other stuff, such as gunpowder, bullets, sulphur and lime powder, stuff they needed for the trip. They also bought some other tools like ropes or grappling hooks that cost around four riyas in total. In the end, the four of them combined only had about two sunars left, just enough for a mutton biscuit.

Eriksson sudden spoke when the four were enjoying the mutton biscuit together.

"Ah, we have to get back to school!"

They had forgotten that there was still the afternoon session to attend.

After they rushed over the rear wall of the school, they put the things they bought in their classrooms only to be caught by their homeroom teacher. That was because they were having physical classes and they should either be at the gym or out in the fields instead of in the classroom. So, it was quite eye-catching for the four to enter it.

The four cretins must have forgotten the time when they were out messing around. Their instructor, Weckham stared at them. He knew well that they had left through the rear wall.

If they had returned before recess ended, he would've pretended to not notice. But they only got back after the next period finished. It was a blatant disrespect of the schools rules.

He punished them on the spot out.

"Your four! Go to the fields and run laps! Don't stop until the class is over! Don't slack off! I have my eyes on you!"

The four had no choice but to run around the fields for 20 minutes. Though they wanted to run slower, Weckham would shout at them the moment they did so. By the time the school bell rang, the four were completely covered in sweat and felt like collapsing where they stood. The 20-minute break gave them just enough time to catch their breath before they started on swordsmanship.

Claude had trouble focusing, however, and was almost struck on the forehead by Welikro's wooden sword. Though nothing had broken, Welikro was horribly startled. Claude's mind perpetually wandered to the cookbook. He couldn't wait to rush back home and shut himself in his room.

After enduring three grueling classes, he was held up by Borkal because the four had to bring the things they had bought back to their secret base. That Friday when their break would finally start, they would move their stuff to Old Sunny's boat. They could then go to Egret.

The secret base was hidden on the lake's west bank, not far away from the jetty slums. However, the slums were for public use while Claude and the others' secret base was near Eriksson's family's private jetty where the fishing boat, Shark of Red Sea, was docked.

There was a house built from stones and logs on the jetty and it was used as a storeroom and a place where sailors could rest temporarily. Within it was one small room which Claude and the others claimed as their secret base. As the young master of Shark of Red Sea, nobody dared to object to Eriksson's use of that room. Even his father Captain Altroni ignored it after a futile attempt at reprimanding him.

The distance to Eriksson's house near their private jetty was quite far. The carriage ride would normally cost each person five fennies, which was around 50 cents, and the four of them combined cost two sunars.

But given that they were dead broke, they had to rely on their own two feet.

They arrived at their destination half an hour later and Borkal collapsed on the only single bed in the room. The harsh exercises during the physical classes in the afternoon and their long walk had drained him of his energy.

Welikro still seemed rather energetic and he left for the lake with a small wooden bucket and a fishing rod.

Claude on the other hand was incredibly anxious and wanted to deal with everything before rushing home, only for him to be stopped by Eriksson. "Where are you going? Your father is receiving some guests tonight, and my father has also joined in. Your house will be really chaotic right now, so it's best you don't join in.

"I already told the guard, Uncle Peg, to get us some metal racks and coal. I'll go back home to get some food. The four of us will have barbeque here tonight. Didn't you see that Wero has gone fishing? We'll be counting on you later."

Chapter 15 - Goal

"Dad is having people over for dinner?" Claude asked.

"Yes. I heard mom telling my dad that when I was leaving. He will be at your home tonight. Your dad invited quite a few people, apparently. Even Boa's father is going. It seems they're going to have a discussion about something."

"Is that so..."

Returning home at that kind of time was indeed inappropriate. If his father saw him, he would definitely be asked to serve the guests. It wasn't that there wasn't anybody to help out, his father would want him to make more contacts. Networking, as his father usually put it.

"Why're you so dazed? Put your bag down. I have to go back home to get some mutton, beef, and seasoning. You did say you would show us your skills tonight," Eriksson said.

"I said that?"

"Yes, you did. Boa and I talked about how there would be dinner at your house and decided we won't eat at home. You agreed. When Wero said he was having barbecue with us, he also said he won't go home. You said Wero's barbecue last time wasn't good, and you'd show us what real barbecue is about. Don't tell me you forgot already?"

"Well..." Claude stroked his head shyly.

To be frank, he didn't know how he spent the whole afternoon. All his attention was focused on the cookbook. He only superficially responded to his friends. He had forgotten almost everything, even what he promised.

He had to calm down. He had the book now, so he didn't need to rush. His father was hosting acquaintances for dinner, so he wouldn't have time for the book even if he went home. He would just be dragged into serving the drunks.

His father frequently went on about how he ought to get to know more important people. Claude had little patience for such ramblings. The 'upper society' and their 'banquets' couldn't compare to what he'd seen in his previous life. They dressed in clothing as tasteful as the gods themselves might envy, and worth more than some towns' entire economy. They drank fine wine and ate delicacies beyond imagining, their culture and poise far outstripped even the royalty of the day. They certainly weren't a crude bunch of old men gobbling on meat and downing mead, who drowned out their farts in laughter and shouting, who crawled onto the tables in their drunken stupor and snored houses apart when they finally fell asleep.

Whatever. He wouldn't go back so it wouldn't be his problem this time. Claude tossed his bag on the bed as he walked in.

"Alright, I'll show you my skills tonight and let you experience true barbecue. See if you have any wings when you go back for the food. Get us some if you do. They taste great grilled."

"Chicken wings? Aren't chickens roasted whole? Why do you want the wings only?" Eriksson asked, puzzled.

"What was up with you today? You were completely out of it," Borkal asked from the bed, "Worried about owing us for the book?"

Claude hummed agreement, nodding.

"I don't know why, but I really wanted it no matter what when I was at the shop. I had a bit of buyer's remorse later. A thale and three riyas isn't pocket change, and I even promised to return it in three days."

Borkal laughed.

"Maybe it's fate. I've had an experience like that. When I was out strolling with my dad, I saw a wooden swordfish toy I wanted to buy no matter what. The shop owner saw I wanted it badly and asked for a high price and wouldn't settle for cheaper. Dad dragged me away angrily.

"But when I got back home, I was so troubled I couldn't even eat. My head was filled with the swordfish. In the end, Mom had no choice but to ask the servant to buy it for me secretly. I got bored with it a week later and it's been in the storeroom since.

"Dad warned me doing that is a huge taboo. A qualified merchant has to control his desires. He shouldn't expose what he wants so easily or he'll be taken advantage of. I went back to take the toy out and put it on my table as a constant reminder."

"I understand now. I will remember."

Claude was quite glad Borkal had come up with a perfect rationalisation for why he had to buy the book. Borkal sat up.

"You don't have to take what you owe to heart. One thale and three riyas is a lot for you to have to pay back. It's okay to take your time. I'd rather wait than have you do something stupid to try and meet your deadline. Especially not before we go to the island."

He waved to stop Claude from speaking.

"I thought about it. We already have what we need. We only still have to pay Old Sunny for the boat.

"We do still need some money for food, since we'll be staying there for two days. It'll cost two riyas for some delicious stuff. As for our other expenses, we can save it. We'll just bring some things from our houses to make up for it. Wero and Eyke have both brought their guns, and I have an arbalest at home. I believe that we'll definitely get some good catches on the island with those weapons. We can even rely on hunting to fill our stomachs.

"We'll need some medicine next, namely, disinfectant, potions and antidotes. We prepared three riyas to buy those, but I think we can save that amount because if everything goes well during our trip, we wouldn't need them. We can just take some medicinal supplies from home and make do. Eyke can also get some from the first aid box on his family's boat and put them back when we get back.

"The last items on our list are the four bottles of gran wine that cost five sunars each. We were going to get four bottles for two riyas, but I don't think we really need to spend that much. We're going on an adventure. We can just leave the wine behind. It might even affect our hunt. Wero said animals have a strong sense of smell and can smell alcohol from far away. We did say we wanted to hunt a few animals.

"All-in-all, we only really need to worry about the boat. We can skimp on the rest. I could get that from home. Eyke can get a bit more from his mom, too. We still have three days left. We'll make the trip as planned. We're buddies. We won't force you to pay up."

Claude's eyes reddened slightly. He didn't really put the money he owed on his mind after getting the book, it was supposed to be used for their trip to the island. He would really struggle to pay it back in time. He would feel terrible if he caused them to have to cancel the trip. His friends had been planning the trip for two weeks and were really looking forward to it, especially the bit of money they could make from selling pelts if they got a few catches.

He was even willing to ask his father for the money if it came to it. He would no doubt get a good hiding, but he would still get the money if he said the cookbook was for his mother. If he had to do that, however, he would have to actually give the book to his mother, which wasn't what he wanted. His dad would definitely stash it away and only show it to his guests and let his mother cook with it.

The best outcome would be one in which he could keep the existence of the book a secret. No matter what, however, he had to get the money. He was a transmigrator, but he had yet to find a way to make money; it was kind of shameful.

"Thank you, Boa," Claude said, giving his friend a bear hug, "You really helped me big time. I was thinking about begging my dad for money if I couldn't get it in time, but I'll get a hiding if I do. And you know my elder brother. He'll make a big fuss if he finds out. I don't want to cause so much trouble in the family just to give my mother a birthday present."

"I am really thankful. But don't worry, I'll pay you back as soon as possible. If we have a good catch, I'll pay you back with my share of the money."

Borkal smiled.

"We're old friends, brothers even! Didn't you say brothers should stick together through thick and thin?"

......

The four finished their meal and lay on the jetty. They listened to the lake water's slosh against the poles under the starry sky.

"That was great! I didn't know smoked chicken wings could be that delicious. Nobody liked to eat the wings at home." Eriksson said as he picked his teeth.

Claude didn't answer. His melancholic gaze was transfixed on the stars. He had learned how to barbecue from his boss, who said he had learned how to do Brazilian barbecue during a trip to the Americas. He put it to good use catching broads.

"You ate two of the four wings we had. I didn't even get one," Welikro complained, pretending to be hurt.

Eriksson smiled like a fox.

"Who asked you to grab the drumstick first because it had more meat? We only had two chickens!"

"What do you want to be when you grow up, Eyke?" Claude asked out of the blue.

"When I grow up?" Eriksson asked, "...I want to be a captain like my dad. But the Shark of Red Sea is too small. I want to captain a large ship and sail on the sea."

"What about you, Boa?"

"Me? I want to take over my dad's business and become a merchant," Borkal said after a pause, "I'll build shops all over the kingdom."

"Wero?"

"My dad said I should hunt with him for a few years after I graduate. I'll join the army when I turn 18. I want to become a dignitarian."

"What about you, Claude? You haven't told us what you want to be."

"Me? I still don't know," Claude said, gazing at the stars longingly, "I want to travel the world though. Maybe an adventurer? I don't know."

Chapter 16 - Accident

Claude didn't expect two carriages to still be parked outside his house when he returned late that night. It seemed a few guests hadn't left yet.

"It can't be... Why are they still here?"

He was met with an empty dining hall when he stepped in through the front door. His mother was busy wiping the floor, and the air smelled of alcohol and vomit.

In a time when there were no air fresheners, the best his mother could do was leave the windows open.

His mother straightened up when she noticed him.

"Why d'you come back so late? Have you eaten?"

"I have," Claude nodded, "I was over at Eyke's. He said Father was hosting a dinner, so I didn't come back early.'

He put his bag down and took the mop from his mother.

"Let me do it. Are some of the guests still here?"

"Yes," his mother said, pointing at the stairs, "They're in the study. Your father is discussing something about investments with them. It got really heated. You don't have to mop that side."

"Where are Anna and Blowk?"

"Blowk was dozing, so I had Anna take him upstairs. We had quite a lot of guests and Blowk get a little too excited and made a fuss."

Madam Ferd sat. The night had worn her out a lot, too.

"Want something to eat? Pjard cooked for us tonight and he made a lot nice things. I left something for you in the kitchen."

"I'm fine, thanks, Mother. Do you know when they'll be done?"

"You have something to talk to him about?"

"No. I just wanted to get a Hezian dictionary from the study. I need one for class tomorrow."

"Just wait a little. He should be finishing up. Why don't you go upstairs and see the guests off?"

"Okay, I'm done with the mopping, too."

He went to his attic room and breathed deeply a number of times as his lips, eyes, and fingers twitched in excitement. He leapt for his bag as soon as he finished calming himself enough to not squeal.

The pirate figurines and hairpin could wait until the next morning, so he took them out of his bag and put them aside. He removed the cookbook, shivering and breathing heavily as sweat precipitated on his brow and wet his hair. He flipped it open and focused on the yellow pages. The pages soon changed again and the blue lines of Hezian text climbed out of the ivory pages.

He felt the urge to chase the guests away with a knife. He only needed the dictionary… He could crack what felt like a secret code and figure out what it said. He didn't care too much about grammar, he was fine reading barely more than gobbledy-gook, but he just had to get the words.

It took all of his teenage will to restrain himself and wait for the guests to leave on their own. The wait wasn't wasted idle time either. Claude suddenly remembered that he had only seen one page. Were the other pages the same too?

The book had 17 pages. A recipe was written on each. He flipped through the pages slowly. Each page had its own, unique arrangement of text. Claude started hopping on his bed as his body involuntarily vibrated. The recipes were just a camouflage! The magic text was its real content! Seventeen pages of magic. This was a tome disguised as a cookbook!

Claude's jitteriness turned into outright, uncontrollable shaking.

Eyke, Boa, and Wero really couldn't see anything special about this, besides maybe that it had somewhat luxurious recipes. As far as they were concerned, this really was just a half-decent cookbook… That would have been how it was for Claude as well, had he not been forced to focus very carefully to make out the text in the bad light.

He flipped through the book again and again before turning to the front page again. He concentrated and the browning on the page disappeared again, revealing ivory beneath, an ivory criss-crossed by veins of blue. He passed out and collapsed onto his bed, nothing but eternal abyss all around his mind.

Panic overcame him and he tried to stand up, but he could not move any part of his body, even his breathing felt involuntary. His sight was gone, his self-control was gone -- in more way than one -- and now his hearing was gone as well. He heard nothing, not even his own heartbeat. He felt his body slowly use up the oxygen in his blood and begin demanding more, but his lungs wouldn't move. He opened his mouth as wide as he could in a desperate attempt to gulp in air, but nothing worked.

His mind and body began to ache as his thoughts raced like a rabbit struck with fear, it darted from one thought to another frantically. Was this really evil magic? Was the cookbook cursed? Had he been cursed? Was this his second death? Or had he just been made blind, deaf, and dumb?

He told himself to calm down, even as his lungs started screaming at him, even as his panic slowly started turning into terror at the edges of his mind. The burning in his lungs slowly faded. At first he thought this was him losing feeling as his body shut down, and indeed, he slowly lost sensation in his body, but his mind remained clear, though panicked.

Slowly, Claude knew not how slow, his ears started throbbing, softly at first, as if a deer was trotting closer slowly through thick fog. A rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump slowly revealed itself to him. The sound closed in slowly, but the beating was rapid, panicked, like the vibrato in the voice of a soprano singing a particularly high note. Not long after the sound of the frantically rushing blood in his earlobes came to him, Then came sounds from the outside world: his father talking to the guests in particular.

He realised his breathing was returning as well and sensation slowly returned to his body. Then the darkness around him slowly began to dim. The abyssal black turned into a midnight black, then a dark grey, then to stormcloud navy, then overcast grey, afterward came the off-white of a misty morning, and, like the receded mist as the sun beat down on the world, the inside of his room came to him through the fog.

The last thing to return to him was control of his body. It came like the slow recovery of a limb deadened by anaesthetics for an operation. At first he could only barely twitch his fingertips, then lift a finger, then his hand and twitch his feet, and slowly his arms and legs. They felt extremely heavy and clumsy at first as well, like his muscles had been shut down and were only now rebooting bit by bit. Eventually, however, he was back to normal.

He stumbled, still somewhat clumsy, from his bed. The moment his knees left his bed, however, a sudden burst of pain accompanied the pulse of his heart in his temples. Despite what felt like hours to him, the hourglass on his table told him only a few minutes had passed since he'd collapsed.

He waddled over to the table, clasping whatever he could for support along the way, dropped the book onto the table, and sat down in the chair awkward before focuses on the book again.

He stared for half a moment, but just as the moment arrived he expected the page to change again, his eyes shut off and everything was black again. Luckily, this time, he didn't fall into that hellish abyss again. His head did complain more vehemently though.

So that's what it was. His descent into that abyss was as a result of all his mental energy having been drained from him. He had focused on the book too much for too long and exhausted his mind. Physical exhaustion assailed him as he thought about things and he got in bed and blew out the lamp to sleep. There was no point in staying up to look at the book since he couldn't read the text, and there was no point in staying up to get a dictionary from his father since he'd already exhausted his strength for the time being.

He lay in actual darkness now, the moon's silver light dancing on his body through the window. Ah, the moon truly is beautiful. It--

His thoughts halted. Was, was he feeling a tingling sensation where the moonlight touched him? His skin felt cool, refreshed, like summer rain was dripping on him. Even his pulsing headache was quickly fading. No, he wasn't imagining things. Was it that the moonlight healed exhausted consciousnesses? Or could it replenish his mental energy?

He stared as intently as he could through the rapidly fading yet still painfully present throbbing in his temples at the moon that hung pregnantly in the night sky. Perhaps he should try it out… Yes, he should definitely give it a go.

Claude got out of bed, removed his socks, and clambered through the small attic window onto the roof.

He scampered around on the roof looking for the spot least obstructed by either the roof itself or nearby buildings or trees. The place found, he lay down between two attic window outlets. The roof was a panoply of slightly bent shingles, but it wasn't too steep for an agile child. That said, the ridges created by the shingles made it an uncomfortable lie, but he was half-thankful for it since it would make it harder for him to simply fade into sleep.

As he lay there, he felt his mind recover at a noticeable pace. It took half an hour for him to feel like he'd recovered completely, at least from the headache. The moonlight calmed him as well. His father's conversation drifted up to him through the study's windows. He couldn't make out the words themselves, but his father's tone told him his father was seeing the guests off.

Hold on, was Arbeit speaking with a woman? Had his father invited a woman to dinner? That didn't sound right. Even if he had, surely he wouldn't have taken her to the study and chatted until this late into the night.

Wait, the woman's voice wasn't coming from the study. Claude listened attentively for a few more seconds before determining where the woman's voice was coming from. It came from one of the attics. The tenant was a youngish woman about ten to twelve years his senior. His mother had gossiped that Miss Christina, had loose morals. He had heard from his father that she was assistant to an accountant of one of the town's companies. He couldn't remember which one -- if his father had indeed mentioned a name. He did remember she had been allowed to rent the attic because her boss vouched for her with his father.

Gossip about what she really did in her spare time was of less interest to Claude than why his brother was there at this time at night, and apparently getting along with her so swimmingly.

Chapter 17 - Shocking Discovery

Claude crouched as low as he could as he approached that part of the roof like a cat.

Their voices cleared as he approached. Arbeit and Christina sounded like they were arguing, and the latter sounded quite mad. Arbeit, on the other hand, spoke in a gentle tone. It even sounded like he was begging.

What were they arguing about?

"...You said three months, but it's been half a year and I'm still in this cruddy attic! Where's my suite?! You always said you'd get me a suite! You always forget after you get off my bed! I warn you, Arbeit, if you don't get me a suite by this month's end, don't even think about getting into my bed again! I'll even tell your father you promised me a suite to trick me into sleeping with you! We'll see who has more to lose then!"

"My beloved Christina, my dearest, I've never lied to you. Didn't I say that, as long as there is a free room somewhere downstairs, you can move in? I can't possibly chase the tenants away, though, right? Come on, be nice and let's stop arguing. I'll make sure you get your suite as soon as possible. I swear--"

"--Swear my ass! Wasn't Mister Leklin from the second floor going to move out? People moved into his vacant room in three days! Did you even try to get it for me? I was even happily anticipating my move! I only found out I wasn't getting it when the new tenant, Madam Alika, came to give me desserts! How do you explain that?!"

"Sigh. That wasn't my fault. I told my parents to not rent a suite out because I had a friend who wanted to rent it. Mister Leklin didn't cancel his contract, however, he transferred it to his cousin instead. I can't do anything about that. And after she moved in, my mother signed a proper contract with her and even upped the rent. There's nothing I can do about it."

"You always come up with all sorts of excuses! I've been too blind until now! You're completely unreliable! You couldn't even get me a suite!

"Summer's just two months away and the attic will be boiling. There's only one toilet bowl here and no bathtub. I have to go to the corridor on the second floor just to wash my face! People get water from there to mop the floor, and I'm using it to wash my face! I've had enough!

"I will only give you two more months. If I'm still living here then, I will spill everything I know! At worst, I'll leave this stupid town. There's lots of places in the kingdom I can move, but when I do, I'll leave you with a ruined reputation!"

"I promise! I promise! I'll get you a suite in two months. Even if there aren't any empty rooms here, I will rent one in town for you."

"You make it sound so easy. Do you think the rooms in town as good as these are empty? Rooms with clean toilets and running water are always occupied! You promise me all sorts of things just to get into my bed and forget everything after you pull up your pants. If you don't get me a good room, I'll spill everything!"

She put a venomous emphasis on the last word.

"I will, I will. I'll get a decent room for you. Trust me. I already have something planned. You'll be surprised, I promise."

"Really? What about the rent?"

"I'll pay for it. You don't have to worry about anything. Just pack up and wait for the move. Look, this is a lucky bracelet I got from the moon shrine for you. The priest said it was blessed by the goddess of the moon and will bring you good luck if you wear it. It cost a lot, you know..."

"Forget it. Don't think you can trick me with this worthless thing. I'm not like those 17 or 18-year-old girls who'll believe such stupid things. Even all the lucky bracelets in the world won't wipe out my bad luck for sleeping with a useless man like you. When will you get me proper jewellery?"

"Don't say that. I didn't get you jewellery, but I bought you two dresses and a coat. That cost me almost all my salary..."

Claude finally knew where all of his elder brother's money had been vanishing.

"What's the point of nice dresses if you don't have jewellery to match? It was so embarrassing the last time I attended the ball without a single accessory. Do you know how it feels to have to bare your neck like that?"

Claude heard Arbeit swearing he would definitely buy her jewellery.

Things inappropriate for children followed. What can be said about it, was that clothes rustled, lots of kissing was involved, and Arbeit and Christina's voices were very active that night.

As he tried to quietly sneak back into his attic, Claude wondered how Arbeit had gotten involved with that woman. It appeared their relationship went back a fair while, half a year at least.

The Claude before transmigration had met Christina a number of times. They didn't talk, but she left a deep impression on him. She was unnaturally voluptuous in all the right places, and quite tall for a woman as well. Her red lips were as luscious as the other places, and she had milky skin and blonde hair. She turned all the right, and all the wrong, heads whenever she went about.

Officially it was gossip, but everyone also knew about her… dubious, tendencies. She had a… complicated relationship with the director of the company for which she worked, and the only reason she was in a place like Whitestag Town was because her… proprietor's wife got uppity.

She did not, in general terms, behave as a cultured woman, either. That said, however, his brother had impressed him in all the wrong ways even more. He couldn't understand how the fool had gotten himself tangled up with such a woman. She was several years his senior, but still young enough that her looks had not yet begun to fold. Most men could only dream of catching someone of her appearance, if not her character.

Christina was almost 27 and Arbeit had only just turned 20. As far as Claude was considered, his brother either had an oedipus complex, or Christina was a cougar, likely both.

Claude, for all his inexperience in this life, had been quite the player in his previous one. Arbeit's careful verbal manoeuvring was not lost on him. The young man had expertly, if not elegantly, rebuffed all his woman's rebukes and outbursts and still gotten what he wanted in the end. He was only 20, so where had his expertise come? He'd made a lot of promises, but he'd not committed himself to anything too substantial. Most importantly, his promises were verbal only. As for the money he apparently spent on dresses and other benefactions, such was the game. Women cost money. Only gigolos wanted women to pay for everything.

Whatever, Claude shook himself, It has nothing to do with me. Who cares where Arbeit learned how to sweet talk? Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. Maybe hooking up with women is his only true talent.

Claude's thoughts wandered again. Knowing about Arbeit's relationship wasn't beneficial at all. He would at most threaten him with it during one of their arguments to see whether the man would flip out so he could have a good reason to beat him up again.

He had thought about threatening him with the secret to pay off his debt, but he quickly dismissed it.

Given Arbeit's stingy personality, he cared more about his money than his reputation with his parents. There was no way Claude could get any money out of him. Instead, this exposed farce would cause him to lose his parents' favour for intentionally ruining his brother's prospects.

Additionally, only his parents stood to lose face if this really got out. While they would care about their reputation, Arbeit wouldn't. He might even bath in the envy other people showered upon him.

Whatever, I'll let that brat off for the sake of mom and dad. They gave birth to this body, after all. Even a transmigrator has to show filial piety, right? There's no need to trouble and anger my parents over that useless fellow.

The hookup didn't matter to Claude, so he quickly forgot about it as he concentrated on decoding the cookbook's secrets. The study was empty, and the carriages had left, so he could finally get his hands on the Hez dictionary. He could decode at least two pages of the book.

He climbed down the stairs barefoot. Though he had lightened his steps, the stairs still creaked slightly.

Fortunately, Morssen had drunk a little too much and was more than worn out. He was already asleep. As for his mother, she had been working the whole night and had also gone to dreamland.

Arbeit wasn't on the first floor, obviously, so no one could stop Claude as he opened his bedroom door and went downstairs. He filled his lamp with oil, retrieved the dictionary, and snuck back to his room like a burglar in his own house.

He shut the door and lit the lamp before stuffing his blanket under his door. The worst of the light was thus stoppered, and he didn't have to fear being discovered too easily.

He prepared to open the dictionary, but stopped as a thought suddenly occurred to him. He had only gone through ten pages properly before blacking out last time, roughly half an hour. If he really took to decoding the book, he might get a single page done in the same time at most if things went well. Also, though he felt normal after bathing in the moonlight, he couldn't be sure how much of his energy he'd actually recovered.

He'd learned his lesson the hard way, and he had no interest in learning it again. He was also certain mental power could not be recovered that quickly.

He paced around in his attic room for a while before inspiration finally came to him and he slapped himself for his silliness. There was no need for him to decode the text directly from the cookbook. Couldn't he just copy the text on another piece of paper? Each page only had a few rows of words, so he could finish copying it in ten or so minutes. He should have enough mental power for that.

Thus, he started copying the words one one, page by page. He took a short intermission between each page to conduct a short bathing session on the roof before moving on to the next.

It took him several hours to begin to feel his fatigue this time, and bathing in the moon had stopped relieving it. He put his stuff away, put out his lamp, and went to sleep.

Chapter 18 - Big News

Claude slept so deeply he didn't wake up from the god of war's shrine's morning bell. When his mother realized he was waking up later than usual, she sent Angelina to shake him awake.

He gave his face a quick wash and rub, grabbed two pieces of bread from the table, and rushed out the door. He was still just barely in time for class. If he didn't arrive on time, Instructor Weckham would have had him stand outside for the entire period.

He burst into the classroom breathing raggedly. The bell rang just after his foot landed on the floor inside the door. Instructor Weckham was on his heels, so he was still in time.

"Why did you arrive so late?" Eriksson asked, "We were waiting outside your house. We thought you had already left."

Claude took out his arithmetic textbook as he spoke.

"Don't ask. I overslept... and had to run all the way."

"Your eyes are a little puffy and you have bags under your eyes. You also look a little pale. Did you stay up late?" Borkal asked.

"Really?" Claude asked, stroking his face, "You know my father hosted a dinner last night. He kept talking to the guests late into the night. On top of that, two cats kept heating the roof and keeping me awake. You know I live in the attic, right? How was I supposed to sleep with that going on outside?"

"Haha, your luck kinda sucks," Welikro said, "It's probably mating season. Those yowls are really annoying. I know how to deal with them though. Kill one on your roof. I'm sure they won't dare get on your roof again for a while. Want to borrow my rifle? Cat meat is pretty good if you know how to cook it, it's certainly softer than chicken."

"Forget it," Claude glared, "Do you think my dad will let me shoot a gun at cats on the roof? What if I break the roof instead? We'll have to fix it later! Go hunt for cats yourself!"

"Is cat meat really softer than chicken?" Eriksson asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

"Yes. Let me tell you, I once..." The two got into a heated debate about how cat meat ought to be prepared. Had they not been in class, Claude would be convinced they would head back for their rifles and go out cat-hunting.

"I know what they discussed," Borkal chirped in a hushed voice.

"Them? Who?"

"Your dad and his guests. My dad was there, too. He said they were talking about starting a sea trade route from Whitestag to Tyrrsim on Nubissia. If it works, Whitestag will explode into a port city. We might even be removed from Baromiss' jurisdiction. We'd be on the same level as Port Neru..."

Borkal's voice faded away as he spoke. His mouth was so close it almost touched Claude's ears.

"That's big."

Claude knew why Borkal was being so secretive. If word got out, there would be a huge commotion. So that was what his father had been planning.

Port Neru was the kingdom's only large port. It was, however, part military port so there wasn't very much space for trade. The fleet, known as Fearless, was in charge of patrolling the kingdom's east coast. It's primary role in peace time was to protect traders from pirates.

Aueras stood in the east of Freia. It's coast stretched 500 kilometers at its eastern border, but not much of it was fit for building or ports. Apart from Port Neru and a few shallow-water fishing ports, the coast was nothing but shallow waters, beaches, or cliffs that didn't allow for the docking of large ships.

Stellin X changed the kingdom's foreign policy when he ascended. He stopped intimidating his neighbours through force of arms, and instead sought out mutually beneficial trade agreements. In a way, Stellin X was more a merchant than a king. He loved money and prioritized profits. That didn't meant he didn't fulfill his other duties, however. It was just that he had his sights set on the continent of Nubissia.

Nubissia was vast, at least twice as large as Freia. Half of Freia's countries, mostly the coastal nations, sent expeditions to Nubissia to set up colonies.

In comparison to the other nations on the continent, who were armed to the teeth and frequently lost thousands of men in small wars between the colonies, Aueras's expansion was smooth. It took only seven years for its colony to grow to double the mother kingdom's size. It had to be split into seven colonies just so it could be properly governed.

Most importantly, the kingdom had never gotten involved in those inter-colony wars. Its only real opponents, though far from its equal, were the aborigines. Claude was reminded of his world's colonial era.

When the first ship returned from Nubissia filled with gems, gold, and silver, the kingdom was overtaken in an uproar. Everyone praised the king's foresight and half the kingdom started making plans to move to the colony.

Stellin X's policy of peace with the neighboring nations allowed trade to prosper. It stood at the centre of the colony's rapid expansion as well. It didn't take long for him, too, to be called Stellin X the Great.

Unfortunately his subjects weren't the only ones who took note of his success.

Nasri had always been Aueras's enemy. Even though Stellin X had ended the war between them, they still hated him and his kingdom zealously. Unlike Aueras, Nasri had only conquered a few minor stretches of land on the new continent, and the kingdom's internal strife prevented it from paying proper attention to its colony, which left it to flounder.

Nasri became desperate when they realised how great the gap was becoming between them and Aueras. The Aueran king preached peace all the time, but Nasri knew better than to believe any Aueran. They'd failed against him on land, but maybe the sea would be different. The route to Nubissia was long and hard. The ships leaving Port Neru had to sail up the coast and by the Duchy of Sidins, the Duchy of Askilin, and the Duchy of Rimodra. From there they had to cross the vast ocean that separated the two continents, and their route took them through the Sea of Storms and the Tranquil Ocean.

The journey took a month if things were miraculously good, but could easily take up to two months if weather was bad. Most importantly, the route, especially the part of it that crossed the open ocean, was infested with pirates.

Nasri allied itself with the four duchies along the coast in the name of hunting pirates, but they always seemed to keep their fleets close to Aueras's territory and trade routes, a constant threat to snip the thread that connected the kingdom proper from its colonies.

The combined force of the five countries' navies far outstripped anything Aueras could field and ensured he thought several time before moving against anyone in the alliance.

Even more troubling was that, despite having such a massive fleet patrolling the waters, rather than a reduction in the number of ships that vanished, Aueran merchant vessels instead suddenly started vanishing more and more.

The occasionally discovered wrecks suggested pirates, but everyone knew better.

As such, the kingdom had no choice but to increase the size of its navy and send its ships out as escorts alongside large merchant convoys which travelled between the colonies and Port Neru every couple of months.

It didn't help that the port served both trade and the military. Whenever a large portion of the fleet returned to port to rest, rearm, or repair, the port's trade operations had to be halted to make way for all the military ships, which naturally cost the kingdom dearly. The houses were all in agreement, a rare enough thing, that the situation could not continue.

Chapter 19 - The Fathers' Plan

"How did you find out?" Claude asked curiously.

Borkal answered him in a whisper by his ear, "Dad came home really excited and went directly to his study. He was in there until after I went to bed. When I checked the next morning, I saw he'd drawn three lines drawn a map.

"One, in black, connected Whitestag and Port Neru. Another, in red, connected Whitestag to a cluster of islands in the Sea of Storms and the bounced on to Tyrrsim.

"Our dads must be planning to open another trade route," Borkal said excitedly.

"My dad told me Whitestag didn't stand a chance of becoming a city anytime soon if we relied only on its population. If it became of strategic importance to the kingdom, however, population wouldn't matter.

"We're an important crossroads for land-based trade and travel between the three prefectures, but that's hardly enough to make us important for the country as a whole. We have to look elsewhere, and where better than the sea so close to us? The bay will make a great harbour, the perfect place for a port city. Being a port city, one of only two in the kingdom, would certainly qualify.

"I hope it works out. Things will finally get interesting if that happens. Even if Simlock's Banjis Isthmus plan goes ahead, they won't be able to stop us!"

Claude nodded. If the maritime route was a success, Whitestag's would become the third most important city in the kingdom, after the capital and Port Neru.

The three southwestern prefectures so often grouped together formed a gourd surrounded by mountain ranges on all four sides. The tiny sliver of coast the easternmost of the three had was by and large sheer-sided cliffs that plunged into the ocean (if viewed from above), or soared into the heavens (if viewed from below). The ocean and the mountain ranges separated the three prefectures from the rest of the kingdom, hence why they were so often grouped together, if not for Aueras, the three would likely have formed a kingdom on their own, and a quite formidable one at that. Whitestag sat at the mouth of that gourd and was the only connection, outside a few dangerous mountain passes, to the outside world.

That opening was a large bay. It looked like a giant shark had taken a large bite out of the continent's coastline. If indeed that were the case, the shark had only just barely missed Whitestag, which stood at the deepest end of the bay, about a day's travel up the river that mouthed into it, on the shores of Lake Balinga from which the river ran.

Whitestag was only another of the kingdom's small fishing villages at the moment, however, so nobody ever bothered with it. The only time even half-decent sized ships came into the bay was when storms were afoot, or they needed desperate repairs.

It was so small and inconsequential even the officials responsible for planning the expansions to the kingdom's naval infrastructure completely overlooked it. Whitestag had the advantage over Port Neru in that Lake Balinga was large enough and deep enough to let a number of large warships anchor in it, and on top of that, being a day's sail from the deepest part of the bay by an unnaturally deep and straight river, it was completely protected from any storms or bad weather. That said, the river was still uncomfortably narrow, which made it very difficult for large ships to sail up or down it.

And whilst the lake offered near absolute protection from any weather in the bay or out at sea, it was very easy to blockade. The river simply need only be blocked with enough debris, or a few guns and traps deployed to make it impossible for the ships on the lake to get out to sea.

Additionally, the port would be three days from Port Neru. Normally, that would actually be beneficial since it would provide a base of operations on the other end of the kingdom for operations in that sphere, Unfortunately, there were no such operations, nor any need for them. The only conflict for which the navy was needed, was happening up north-east, which meant Whitestag, and any ships that might be anchored there, would be days away from the action.

The only water-based industry the town had, was fishing. Unfortunately, the same issues applied to that as well. The town was a day away from the prefectural capital by cart, and the demand for fish there wasn't high enough to make the trip worthwhile.

Baromiss, the prefecture's capital, was also the closest other settlement, the nearest next settlement was three days by cart, which was too far, so there was no other market in which to sell the fish.

Borkal's guess about their fathers' plans was right, Whitestag would indeed become a very valuable place for the kingdom.

The new route would shorten the time it took to sail from the kingdom to Nubissia by more than ten days. Fearless would no longer have to play nanny to civilian shipping since they would be able to avoid the dangerous waters altogether.

Not to mention that the port would launch a new boom period for all three prefectures, and Whitestag would become the centre of that boom.

Eriksson's father had been at the meeting as well, which made sense, Captain Altroni could not be kept out of such an endeavour. He was the most knowledgeable about the entire area, the lake, the river, and the bay. His involvement was essential, and would also ensure the Sea of Storms wouldn't be a problem. The biggest problem was going to be the Tranquil Ocean. Whilst the edge of the ocean, mostly the region hugging the coasts or hopping between islands, was well-explored and travelled, the truly open ocean was a complete mystery to the people of Freia, and it hid countless dangers.

"Do you know where my dad drew the other red line?" Borkal asked, trying to sound mysterious, "I bet you can't guess. He drew it through Balinga, Kemda Swamp and Tordesass's Normandis River. They probably want to build a canal to connect those three places. It would let us transport the good offload from the big merchant ships onto barges and send them all the way to the west. Those areas won't have to rely on goods brought over the passes."

Borkal's hands waved in excitement.

"Think about it. If everything works out, Whitestag will be the third most important city in the kingdom, definitely the most important one in the three prefectures! And we'll no doubt grow into the biggest, too!"

Claude tugged at him.

"Shush! Don't be so loud. Why are you so excited?"

"Ah..."

Borkal sat back down quickly. He waited until Instructor Vincent went back to his lecture to speak.

"Aren't you surprised at all? This is going to change the town completely! The more I think about it, the more excited I get! It's like what Mister William, said. 'Ours is a time of constant change'. History is being made right in front of our eyes!"

"Pffft!"

Claude couldn't hold his laughter in any longer. Borkal was 16 years old and youths of that age were most susceptible to middle-schooler syndrome. Borkal was proud of the fact that he was born in Whitestag thanks to the constant brainwashing the history books did.

"I understand. I am very surprised Dad is doing this. But think about it, Boa. We're just 16 years old. What on earth could we do in this plan?

"Yes, they're planning something big, but that's just it, they're planning. Nothing's set in stone yet. Simlock's Banjis Isthmus project has been held back for years because of how much it'll cost. We don't even know how much this will cost, or where we're going to get the money."

The three prefectures were isolated from the rest of the kingdom, and they're only link, Whitestag Town, didn't really have any infrastructure. The region wasn't poor per se, but it certainly wasn't wealthy. A few scholars in Simlock had suggested what had become known as the Banjis Isthmus project to ameliorate the situation. If everything went according to plan -- which it never did -- the project would take five years from start to finish with a labour force of 100 thousand men. The plan was to build a proper path over Falins Mountain Range's Banjis Isthmus. If it worked, the three prefectures would finally be properly connected to the main body of the kingdom.

Things were less rosy for Whitestag if the project went through. It would even further reduce the town's importance, worst of all, it would mean the merchants that did come through the town at the moment would all use the isthmus instead.

People were very unhappy when news of the project spread. The good news, for the town, was that the project was ludicrously expensive, it needed 300 thousand crowns at least, 1.5 million thales. One hundred and fifty million bucks…

It was shut down out of hand when it was brought before the Council of Dignitaries and there was no way the Council of Lords would support it. Just the initial budget was already ludicrous, and there would no doubt be additional, unforeseen costs that would push the price up, it wasn't unreasonable to assume a project of that scale could possible double its budget, perhaps even triple it.

"Understand?" Claude asked, "The best we can do is to not leak news of the plan. Other than that, all we can do is pray."

Chapter 20 - Decoding

As Claude expected, Eriksson and Welikro went hunting for stray cats after school. He could only warn them to be careful. Their parents were dignitarians and allowed to use firearms. Since they were still under-aged, they enjoyed the same rights as their parents.

But bringing a firearm around in town was dangerous, and not just for the cats, mind you.

Thankfully, they understood how dangerous it could be and chose less… thunderous weapons. Welikro got his hunting bow and Eriksson borrowed a sailor's crossbow from his father. They didn't have the range of firearms, but they were more than enough for cats.

Borkal had an arbalest at home as well. His father used to take it with him on his travels when he was younger. Borkal caved and went and got it after the other two pestered him for about half an hour. The conversation between Borkal and Claude was thusly quickly forgotten.

Claude turned them down however. He said he was too tired to go hunting after getting so little sleep, and thus went home instead.

His mother was next door with his little brother, paying a visit to Madam Alika, who had just moved in. She had quickly become good friends with his mother and the two often spent the afternoons gossiping. Most importantly, Madam Alika had a seven-year-old daughter that kept Bloweyk busy.

Angelina was home, however, and working on her homework at the dining table.

Claude stroked her head as he walked passed and told her he was going to rest and to not disturb him before supper, and headed upstairs.

His tired expression vanished the moment he closed his bedroom door. He opened his drawer and took out his notes. He had copied seven pages and marked them so he wouldn't mess up the order.

He wondered if he should start decoding what he'd already copied. His eyes fell on the dictionary and he reached out for it. His hand hovered over it for a few seconds before he shook his head and withdrew it.

There was no point in rushing. Better copy a few more pages while he was still alert. There were only a few rows of text to a page. He hoped to finish it up in one go and not have to moonbathe again.

He cleared his mind, opened the cookbook on the first uncopied page, and got started.

......

Date: 11th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Rainy.

After seven days of arduous walking, we finally arrived at Golddew. We lodged at an inn called Fragrant Dew. We were shocked to see this book when we went to get breakfast. We didn't think anyone would use manticore talisman parchment for a simple cookbook.

A staff member told me someone had paid for his tab using the book -- which had been empty at the time. The old cookbook was falling apart, so they copied all their recipes into this book because the proprietor felt it wouldn't wear as quickly.

What were they thinking? Do they have any idea how expensive this is? What am I asking, of course they don't. I couldn't bare to see it wasted like that so I bought it off them. They actually sold it for just a shaliun.

Senior Tawari said it wasn't worth that much though. Manticore parchment is good material, but the sheets are now basically useless because they wrote on it.

He was right, but I didn't buy this to make a magical tome. I happened to leave without a diary so I'll just use it that way. In this sense, the recipes actually make for good camouflage...

......

The first entry was rather boring, but it still took Claude a full hour to decode, and it was still hard to read because so much was lost in translation.

He was excited to learn that the book had indeed belonged to a magus. Unfortunately it was just a diary. He was frustrated by the date of the entry. It didn't use the standard calendar he was used to, so he had no reference for when exactly it had been written. The entire continent used the Sacred Light Calendar currently, which was running in its sixth century, and the previous calendar, the Dark Calendar, ran for four millennia. Claude had never heard of a calendar which used NM as its initials. Maybe it was a special calendar only the magi used?

He sighed, resigned himself to the read, and got back to translating.

......

Date: 12th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

I couldn't get any sleep last night. Bota brought two of the inn's maids to his room and make merry. I mouthed him off at dinner. He seems rather irritated.

He said he had to make the most of the time he had left for it. We soon wouldn't have any more chances. We parted still sour at each other.

......

Date: 13th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Cloudy.

It rained a little yesterday evening. I spent most of the day meditating in my room.

Tawari came to see me in the evening. He looked sour. Apparently a unit was ambushed in Binio Valley. All eleven magi were killed. Shot dead despite being four- and three-ringed. Only the five-ring magus escaped, but he was badly hurt.

That's just 50 kilometres from here. What a nightmare!

......

How strange, Claude thought, They already had firearms?

Claude didn't think too much, however, he was too eager to know more.

......

Date: 14th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

I got to know Jones today. Turns out he's a four-ring magus like me. He's a haggard man. His skin is as pale as ash and he drinks a lot. Tawari says he acts like that because he's still in shock over what happened.

He's from Rosbo. The council summoned him here, just like us, and he was coming here to rendezvous with us. Apparently his unit had 13 men but everyone else was killed about 20 kilometres from town. Only six made it out alive, Jones included, but they killed quite a few of their attackers as well. We've sent a few people from town to go take a look.

'You don't know how fearless they are... They aren't afraid of dying...' Jones told me as he cried.

'Even if we blast some of them into charcoal, the others just keep shooting. They just won't budge.'

'Curse the bastard that invented guns! It's the weapon of demons!'

I don't think I remember everything right, but that's the gist of what he said before he passed out.

Tawari came to see me again just before I went to bed. He told me not to tell anyone about the improvements I've made to the guns. He worries about nothings. I'm not stupid enough to blab about that sort of stuff...

......

Claude gazed at the pages he had decoded, his thoughts wandering.

Why were the magi summoned to this 'Golddew'? And why were they ambushed by people wielding guns? It was also intriguing to learn that the diary writer was apparently involved in the weapons' development in some way.

Someone knocked on his door.

"Claude... You awake? Mom's calling for dinner..." Angelina's timid voice rang.

"Okay, I'm coming!" Claude answered as he stood up.

"Ah, wait, Anna," Claude called.

He took out the hairpin and put it in her hand.

"I bought you a gift yesterday. Is it pretty?"

Angelina's eyes shone.

"Thank you! I'm gonna show it to mom!"

She spun on her heels and half-fell downstairs as she darted for the kitchen..

"Sigh..." Claude had wanted her to take the four pirate figurines to Bloweyk, but he decided to take it himself.

A lot was packed out for dinner. The main dish was potatoes with oxtail. Two fried long-tailed anchovies, the town's specialty. She'd also made mutton ribs and smoked goose and the table had a basket of blueberries.

Were they having a celebration? Then he remembered they had the big dinner the last night, so this had to be last the previous night's leftovers.

Arbeit was sat on his father's seat, acting like he was already the head of the household, stuffing his face with the last goose drumstick. Angelina was carefully cutting the bread on the table with a small knife, and his mother was feeding Bloweyk potatoes.

"Here, Puffball. Like it?" Claude asked as he handed Bloweyk the figurines.

The little piggy jumped happily as he grabbed the four figurines and played around with them.

"You're spending money frivolously again. Anna just showed me the hairpin and now you're giving Little Blowk toys," his mother complained as she put her wooden bowl down.

"It didn't cost a lot. I just thought he'd enjoy them. Where's Father?"

"He sent someone to tell us he has to work late tonight."

Dad must be working on his plan. No wonder Arbeit dared sit in his seat.

"There's enough bread, Anna. You can stop cutting. Join us at the table."

Claude ignored the man occupying his father's seat. He took his seat and cut meat for his sister.

Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…

Arbeit finished his glass of wine, there was still half a bottle left from the previous night. He glanced at Claude momentarily and opened his mouth.

"You look rich, buying things everywhere. I wanted to ask you about the thale I misplaced. Did you take it?"

Claude didn't want to bother with him, but the fool didn't know when to leave well enough alone. He always tried to provoke Claude.

"Who would believe you? Putting a whole thale down somewhere, you've never even misplaced a penny. Don't mess with me, understood?!"

"If I say I did, I did! Where would you get the money to buy them gifts if you didn't take it?!"

Claude smirked.

"You don't have to know where I get my money! I know where you spend yours! Two dresses and a coat, huh? Whitestag is only so big and there's only one boutique. All I have to do is ask the owner to find out how much you spent."

"Ugh!"

Arbeit choked on his sip of wine. He stared at Claude, his face as red as the wine, lower jaw dangling loosely.

"I can't be bothered with your business. Just don't do stuff that'll embarrass mom and dad. Watch your mouth and stay out of my sight. You hear?"

Claude stabbed a piece of potato as he said the last word.

Chapter 21 - Diary

Claude should finally have some peace. He finished dinner and went back to his room. He thought about his brother stiffness during dinner and smiled again.

Arbeit hadn't been able to sit still at all. He didn't know how much Claude knew. He kept staring at Claude at every opportunity he got while they ate. He probably wanted to ask Claude how much he knew, but he didn't dare. Claude actually enjoyed playing hot potato with their gazes. He'd let his brother stare at him for a few seconds then suddenly look at him, and the man would quickly look away. The moment Claude's eyes returned to his plate, however, Arbeit would stare at him again and everything would start over.

It became so obvious even their mother noticed and asked what was going on.

Arbeit nearly fell of his chair to quickly explain it away, gobbled the rest of his dinner down and all but ran out of the house. He was probably heading to be boutique to ask them a few questions.

......

Date: 15th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

Three more units arrived today. They're from Marino, Shaliz, and Chilasos. They're lucky to not have been attacked.

Bota spent the whole day playing around with the neighbourhood's girls. He doesn't behave like a magus should at all. I'll rather not say what he did look like. Even Tawari doesn't bother with him.

I heard Krimondo crying in his room. When I asked him about it at dinner, he only glared at me. Aliya said I was lucky I didn't know anything. 'Ignorance is bliss' she'd said.

They're hiding something from me.

......

Date: 16th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

I heard the unit sent out of town to investigate where Jones was attacked came back. Tawari said all seven corpses were brought back. They found 22 corpses that weren't magi. We now know who the attackers were. They're part of that damned brotherhood.

They're all madmen. I don't know why they attacked, but they're very disciplined. They don't budge even while they're being blown up. Maybe I shouldn't have done that work on guns.

Another five units arrived as well but they're not staying at our inn.

I don't know where they're from. I wanted to meet them but Tawari told me to stay put.

......

Claude read the sixth entry with a furrowed brow. He finally found a term with which he was familiar: the brotherhood.

The brotherhood was the core of the resistance. As the end of the dark era neared, it was the brotherhood that led the people in their resistance against the magi. They sacrificed countless members to drive the magi off the continent.

The diary seemed to have been penned during the war. Did that mean that it was at least six hundred years old? Incredible! People might believe him if he said it was a hundred years old, but no one would believe it was six hundred years old. Even the best beastskin only lasted three or so hundred years.

Maybe the book was infused with magic and that had kept it from rotting away. The cookbook was still in great condition, after all.

Claude might as well decode the last three while he was at it, he thought. He'd copy the rest of the pages after he was done.

......

Date: 17th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

I heard a loud explosion last night at about midnight. It was accompanied by a massive wave of magic. Tawari didn't allow us to go out though. I heard from people in the tavern this morning that two magi had dueled. They were courting the same woman, it seems.

Their fight destroyed four houses and killed 17 people. Over a hundred were injured as well. If they weren't stopped, they'd have killed even more people in their fight.

Bastards... How could they fight in the middle of town? Tawari said the two involved were made to pay a gold coin for everyone that died and a silver coin for everyone they injured. They fought in town because they were too afraid they'd be ambushed if they tried fighting outside of town.

They weren't punished enough. They only paid one shaliun a life. They ought to be damned. I noticed how hatefully people were staring at us.

Three more units arrived today. I couldn't be bothered with them.

......

Date: 18th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

I've been in Golddew for eight days now, but the messenger hasn't arrived yet. I don't know when they'll let us head for the city of Symposium either.
µ
More and more magi are gathering. And the atmosphere just keeps getting worse. A lot of magi have started behaving badly. I heard many start fighting after shouting at one another for a while. But we luckily have the disciplinary unit. They're all five-ring magi. They've been stopping most events before they escalate, but a few still slip through the cracks.

I heard this afternoon that the two that fought last night are ded. One died from eating smoked mutton that had been poisoned with jimsonweed and the other was stabbed to death.

The two murderers were caught and were executed. They were hanged in the centre of town. Even their souls were burned for three days before they were allowed to die.

The townsfolk now avoid us like we're a plague.

......

Date: 19th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

The temporary enforcement unit decided to move the townsfolk out of the town centre out of town. They gave their homes to the new arrivals.

Everyone now checks their food before they eat.

I heard the council didn't summon us to fix the inscriptions in the sky-piercing tower. We're instead being sent to Kenpus through its teleportation rune. They say magi are in high demand there. I asked Tawari about it but he only frowned at me.

Didn't they say Kenpus had a lot of magic? Even rabbits can take on a five-ring magus there and everyone constantly has to fight to survive. What am I going to do? I can't fight, I've spent all my time studying alchemy and runes.

I hope this is just bored woman talk. But the tower's boss, Loenk, went to Kenpus last year. He's a seven-ring, though.

A massive caravan started arriving this afternoon. It's apparently got 50 thousand people. They're setting up camps just east of town.

They're apparently taking certain materials, like black crystals to Symposium. The caravan also brought us eight thousand gunners.

......

The the seventh, eighth, and ninth entries had a lot of information. It turned out the gathering he'd been talking about was a lot bigger than Claude had initially thought. He also finally learned the writer specialised in runes and alchemy.

He'd never known how difficult magi were to kill, but it seemed, at least the weaker ones, were quite killable. Despite that, it appeared magic was quite powerful.

He wondered what kind of plane this was to which everyone was being sent. He said it was just a rumour, but he also struck Claude as a pretty naive man.

It felt almost like he was reading a webnovel. This was the first he'd heard of the people of this world, if only the magi, knowing and being able to travel to other worlds. It also appeared that the different worlds didn't have the same amount of magic.

He also heard about Symposium for the first time. From the way the writer talked about it, it was their destination and it was where the sky-piercing tower was. And even common people had to obey the council's summons.

Claude was most intrigued by the mention of the council. He'd never read about how exactly the magi ruled before, it was certainly not taught in school and it wasn't recorded in any of the books.

Chapter 22 - The Truth

Forget it. I'll copy the rest down before I get back to decoding.

Claude desperately wanted to know what the rest of the diary recorded. The author was only a low-level magus, and he clearly hadn't commented on magic itself, but Claude felt he was unveiling the mist of history and seeing the truth.

Date: 20th day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny, save for a small drizzle in the evening.

Senior Tawari came looking for me last night. He took me to the convoy's camp. I was even more surprised to be greeted by the noble who'd commissioned me to work on the guns. Baron Regius Au Syr, the largest provider of magic stones to the many magic councils in the region. No wonder he could gather such a large convoy.

Senior Tawari hugged him when we walked in. I didn't think they were that close.

He asked me to develop a more powerful gunpowder. So far I've worked out that including ground magic crystals into the normal mixture works pretty well. I dabbled a bit in runes and discovered that you could strengthen things even further with runes on the gun barrel. You could even get an explosion on the same level as the forbidden nine-ring spell, through runes, the resulting blow would be equivalent to a forbidden nine-ring magus spell: Permitialis Procursus.

Which was no doubt why I met him last night.

He told me he only wanted to use the explosive to mine, but I still refused. He even took out an order from the magic council. It was for a massive amount of magic stones which he had to deliver over the next three years, and he said there was no way he could fulfil it. He wanted my new gunpowder so he could speed up his mining and meet the order.

I knew he was lying. I trusted him five years ago when he asked me to develop a way guns and gunpowder could be made without needing magi. I accepted and developed a step-by-step process and even designed a new kind of firearm that could fire up to 200 metres, though it was hardly accurate at that range. He told me it was so normal people could hunt and defend themselves. Now, however, my own guns are being used to kill my brothers and sisters.

I will never do anything for him again.

......

Wait, why 200 meters? Claude wondered.

He had a number of such questions, but he was too excited to spend time thinking about them. Most especially because he finally read a name he remembered, and it wasn't just any old name, either. Baron Regius Au Syr.

History knew him as the brotherhood's leader and later emperor of the first post-magus dynasty. It did not, however, remember him being a noble under magus rule, nor of him being one of the biggest suppliers for the magi overlords, and thus probably, in no small part, responsible for their continued rule for at least several decades.

He desperately wanted to read more, but his mental energy was exhausted so he decided to take a quick bath first.

......

Date: 21st day of the 8th month, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

I turned Baron Regius Au Syr down again. Tawari didn't say a word about it. We quickly returned to the inn after that.

I didn't get a minute of sleep the whole night. I went to see Tawari this morning after that whole business. He must have known I would come to see him, because he told me to come in even before I knocked on his door. He must also have known what my questions would be since he cast a muffling spell right after I closed the door behind me.

I asked him if he was the one who told the baron about my progress. He was the only one who'd seen my notes.

He didn't say anything, but I could see the answer in his eyes even before he nodded. I very nearly stormed out of the office that very minute. I trusted him implicitly, how could he betray it?!

He had me sit down before my feet got me out of the office, however. I think half the reason I didn't shove him off me and storm out was how serious he looked.

He told me this little tale about a vagrant kid who collapsed in the snow one winter. A noble saved him and his parents all but adopted him. The two grew up together, like brothers. The vagrant discovered he had magic when he was fifteen and his adoptive parents spared no expense to get him the proper education.

I knew Tawari was talking about himself.

'He's my brother,' he'd said about when I asked if the baron was that noble kid.

It soothed my anger a little, but only a little.

I wanted to leave after hearing his story, I had to sort my thoughts out, but he wouldn't let me. He told me I had to know something, then told me an incredible story. I never thought I could be as hurt as I was by what he told me next.

Five thousand years have passed since the primordial era came to an end. Magic has been a part of this world the entire time. Many people became twelve-ring magi during the primordial era and a few even ascended to become gods. One of them was Nomadine, after whom his calendar is named, the Nomadine Magic Calendar.

There was enough magic back then that even dragons still existed and many powerful beasts that could use magic swam in the ocean and crawled on land as well.

The dragons have died out now, however, and most of the magic beasts, definitely all of the stronger ones, are gone as well. A few magic beasts probably still hide in the thick forests of Nubissia, but they're all but extinct everywhere else.

Magic has been vanishing from this world. There are hardly any magic beasts left, and the materials necessary to make magic items are also very quickly becoming near impossible to find. It's also become very hard to get strong magi like we had in the past. Ten-ring magi and above were common a few thousand years ago, but there are hardly anyone with even just nine rings left. I only know about two, and they're both on the council. Apparently there are five more, but I don't know who they are.

Was that the reason we were being sent to Kenpus? I asked Tawari that, but he laughed. I've never heard such a sour laugh before. But I understand why he's laughing like that. Yes, we're being sent to Kenpus, but like I've already written, the magic there is much stronger, and so are the top magi. We'll be nothing but common labourers there, the lucky ones, anyway. The less lucky ones will be cannon fodder.

I never knew magi could be stripped into such a hierarchy. I always thought we were brothers and sisters. Yeah, sure, some had more power than others, and sure some were stronger than others, but underneath all that, we were brothers and sisters, right?

It seems I was completely wrong. The original council had twenty four nine-ring magi. They each formed a household and took a part of the continent as their territory along with all the resources in it. They call themselves the white sterling nobles, or the white magi. They only teach their offspring their magic and only let them benefit from the full extent of their resources. They've become the ruling class on the continent and they control the council.

I argued that if that really were true, then he would never have been allowed to become a magus. He told me, however, that not all of their family have the gift of magic. They're lucky if one out of every hundred children born into the family could use magic.

Though each of those children are nurtured to become one of the top magi in his or her generation, they're nowhere near enough. So, they raise a few commoners with the ability to use magic to become their servants and do the dirty work.

The white sterling nobles are at the top of the food chain of magi, and five ring magi are at the bottom, the black iron peasants. None of the latter are allowed to improve any further than five rings. No matter how much talent you have, you need a lot of resources to improve as a magus, so they simply cut those resources when you become a five-ring magus.

They would never give their resources to an black iron magus, since every bit they did, was a bit less their descendants got.

I now know why Tawari stopped improving once he became a five-ring magus. It's been ten years, but he hasn't taken a single step further.

He then told me that the baron's family used to be a branch of one of the 24, hence their sobriquet, Au, which represents arcane spells. Their family hadn't produced a single magi in hundreds of years so they were cast out and are now just normal nobles.

I asked him why he was the biggest supplier of magic material, then. He told me it was because those stones were originally not considered a magical resource since they didn't have enough magic power in them. They used to be used as just common building material. The higher grade magic material however, have become so scarce that these stones are now classified magic material.

The council has decreed that half of all their recruits have to learn alchemy and runes. They want to transmute common materials into magic materials, or use runes to be able to make magic use of common material.

I don't know how I got back to my room, but here I am. I only remembered I forgot to ask about the reason for his wanting my gunpowder while I was laying in bed. Which is also when I remembered I still have to write my diary entry.

......

So tired, Claude's mind whispered at him. His hand was sore and his mind felt heavy, like a boulder that wouldn't move when pushed. The last entry was much longer than the rest, it filled up two sides of a page. It took him two hours to translate it.

He decided to have a rest. He didn't think he had the space in his head right now to read more even if he had the mental energy and physical energy left to finish another entry. This one contained way too much information he needed to ponder.

Chapter 23 - Scheme

Looks like the magi world also had differences between nobles and common people. White sterling bloodlines and black iron peasants... It's completely different from the fantasy novels I read where the magi were only folks who sought truth and aimed to unveil the secrets of the world's deepest laws. It's all nonsense here...

Claude lay in the moonlight on the roof. The 11th entry took him a lot longer than he'd anticipated and he was exhausted, so he was resting and recouping his energy before moving on to the next entry.

That was only part of the reason he was taking this rest, however. The other was to mull over the shocking bits of information he'd gotten from the last entry. It completely overturned everything he thought he knew about magi. He had thought they represented arcane omnipotent existences that could solve all problems with a few spells. They had symbolised supernatural power in his mind.

He didn't think low-ranked magi would be high-ranked magi's servants and be cannon fodder or low-level labourers. They also couldn't advance beyond their station because they weren't given magical resources. It felt a lot like the social capital module he took in philosophy class in university, specifically where materialism was concerned.

When a higher class gained control of the right to distribute resources, the lower classes were always oppressed. They lost the ability to climb the social ladder. Even with the support of interest groups that aimed to limit the harm to their benefits and social status, it wouldn't stop the march of the socially Darwinistic world in which they lived. The strong always devoured the weak.

Well, that was the gist of it, inaccurate as his representation may have been. It had been more than ten years since he'd graduated, after all. It also didn't help that the classes were so boring he often skipped them entirely. In retrospect, the theories did make a lot of sense and could even be applied in this alternate world where magic existed.

Then again, he thought back to the nation he had belonged to which had taken only three decades of peace to become one of the largest economies on the planet, catching up, at least partially, to the world's greatest, and sole, superpower, and doing it amidst severe repression by the rest of the world. It hadn't helped that they broken a lot of international conventions along the way, for which they were richly chided and fined. Rather than adapt to the self-proclaimed fair and just international community's rules, they instead forced their way forward like a thug pushing its way through a crowd until they had the strength to force the rest of the world to abandon their fair and just rules, even if only beneath the table, to deal with them.

One of the many prices their growth placed around their necks, however, was that their people demanded more and more resources. Claude remembered that, in the last years of his life half of the world's mined resources had come from his country and was exported to the rest of the world. His country's growth had not yet started its inevitable slowdown and the international leeches could still suck all the blood they wanted from it.

It had become the world's largest exporter, but it had also become the world's largest importer. His current world was no exception to those same economic forces, so it was no surprise the magi's heads had rested on the same chopping block, they were just farther ahead than his country had been when he'd left it permanently. This world's magic resources, much like his world's mineral and fossil resources, had been drying up. It had no doubt been even worse here because the people had no concept of renewable resources and frugal use. Instead of seeking ways to more renewably use their resources, they instead created two classes and let only one benefit. White sterling nobles controlled the resources and hoarded as much of it as they could for themselves, giving only pittances to the black iron peasants.

Just like his first world at the time he left it, though in a far worse state, they had been in a crisis, desperately searching for ways to replace the resources out of which they were rapidly running. His world had suggested looking to other planets and to asteroids for those resources, and, in a similar vein, this world had turned to other worlds to solve its own problems. For the people of this world, however, it was a far more dangerous aspect, especially since the ruling class didn't care about the lives of their servant class.

It sounded even more, Claude reflected, like an animated series he had once watched where a small robot flew a toilet-bowl-shaped spaceship across the galaxy in search of a source of unlimited energy.

He daydreamed thusly for a while before returning to his room.

……….

Date: 22nd of the 8th, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

The messenger finally came today. He brought the council's newest orders. They want us to get to Symposium by the end of the month.

The temporary police unit's five-ring magi received him and even Tawari joined the banquet. He gathered the eight of us when he got back and told some of the stuff he managed to confirm.

We are to complete our repairs on the sky-piercing tower once we arrive and then start sending the people through. They'll start building our new headquarters there. I finally understand why the baron's convoy is this massive.

Krimondo asked why they didn't just mine the stone they needed from the area but Tawari said they didn't have the manpower. It would be faster to transport stone from other quarries than to mine it there themselves.

That's all we talked about and everyone quickly dispersed.

It didn't take long after the banquet started for the entire town to become one big ruckus. So many people stuffed themselves with drinks they could barely stand on their feet. Everyone knows what happens to people when they get drunk. I saw dozens of fireballs shot into the sky recklessly from clusters of people sitting around tables or small fires. Each one obviously had a mug in his free hand. I wasn't surprised when I saw a few houses on fire. I expected as much, but I also expected the police unit to deal with them, but they never showed up.

Aliya says they're venting. But we all know going to Kenpus is a one-way trip, and not just because the gate will close behind us. But nobody dares to defy the council.

Is Kenpus really that terrifying?

Terrifying probably doesn't even begin to describe it. The only reason I still stay calm, probably, is that I've not seen it yet. Aliya says nobody that steps through the gate will have a good death, certainly none of us black iron peasants. I suppose she's right. I mean, all our nine-ring magi went there ahead of as well as the rest of the council -- about 70 seven-ring magi -- and all the higher tier magi on the continent. Despite that, they still haven't subjugated the gnomes and kobold tribes. They haven't even started mining stone yet, which is why we're having to send all the materials they need over from here. If they can't do those basic things despite how powerful they are, what are we going to do? What's going to happen to us?

I wanted to talk to Tawari about it, but he's vanished. I bet he's gone to see the baron again.

……….

Claude rested for another hour.

……….

Date: 23rd of the 8th, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

The baron came to the inn to see Tawari yesterday afternoon. Tawari dragged me to his room when he did. The baron asked me again to give him my gunpowder formula. I turned him down, of course. I told him it wouldn't be of any use to him since it needed runes to trigger the explosion. Tawari said he would do it so that wasn't a problem. I didn't know what to say.

Tawari insisted I give them the formula since they would thus have no problem using it. He even brought up our years of friendship to play on my feelings. I knew something was up for him to be that desperate for the formula so I demanded to know what he was going to do with it. I never expected his answer.

Blow up the sky-piercing tower,' he'd said.

I couldn't believe what I heard. I think I shouted something like 'are you crazy?!", but I can't remember clearly. I bet we'd have been swarmed by other magi if Tawari hadn't cast a muffling spell.

He said he didn't want to go to Kenpus, but he couldn't defy the council. No one this side of the gate, however, knew how to set up the formation needed to open the gate, nor did anyone have the power, so if the tower was destroyed, with the entire council on the other side, he wouldn't have to worry about it. The only problem was that he didn't have the strength to damage the tower. My gunpowder, however, could destroy it.

I argued we'd be captured. Tawari would certainly be executed for his treason. I definitely wouldn't allow him to do something so reckless. He raised me into the world of magic, I would still be just a fisherman's son if not for him. Not that I wanted to go to Kenpus and leave my family behind.

The baron told me to drop it. He said I would never be able to convince Tawari to stop, and I certainly didn't have the strength to. He told me, and this shocked me a lot, that the fifty thousand men he'd brought along weren't here just to transport the stone. They weren't just going to destroy the tower, but they were going to wipe out all the magi in the city.

I almost fainted. He wants to conquer our holy land?

I always sensed something was off with him, but I never thought he was completely insane. I had to take several minutes to calm myself before I asked him why he wanted to do that.

He didn't answer me. Instead he handed me a piece of paper.

It was an order from the council that told him to train and bring over second batch of people, another 30 thousand gunners and ten thousand men and women as settlers.

They were all headed for Kenpus. Half the reason for this maintenance work on the tower was to enlarge the gate so they could send those people across faster.

I almost shouted again, at the council this time. How are these normal people who couldn't use magic going to survive in that place? This was basically human sacrifice.

They aren't planning to make sure they survive, however, Tawari informed me. The gnomes are very weak, but they survive because they have lots and lots of children all the time, which keeps their numbers up despite losing many thousands to simple predator attacks. The council plans to breed humans using the young people they want the baron to send over.

Tawari then told me Loenk, the tower's owner, was dead, killed by a kobold witch.

This world is crazy. Tawari wants to destroy the sky-piercing tower, the baron wants to attack Symposium, the magic council is actually going to send 40 thousand men and women to Kenpus without giving them any protection... Are they trying to feed the gnomes? Even our tower's owner, a seven-ring magus, is dead. I... I must be dreaming!

I told the baron the council would immediately come back when he attacks the city. But he only laughed.

'They won't come back,' he told me.

When I asked him how he knew, he said that sending someone to Kenpus cost ten magic stones, but sending even just a letter back cost ten times that much. They literally didn't have the resources to send magi back once they stepped through the gate. Which was why the council wasn't staying here and just sending teams over there to mine Kenpus and send the resources back. It cost way too much. The only reasonable way of doing this is to relocate to Kenpus entirely. To abandon this world.

I have to admit, I had completely forgotten about the planar laws. They prevented free travel between worlds, which explains why I've only heard about people going to Kenpus, but I've never heard of someone coming back.

I didn't want to give up, however. I brought up the city's magical cannons next. The baron told me the city only has two seven-ring magi right now. Everyone else has gone to Kenpus already. And all the cannons have also been sent to Kenpus. Symposium has never been weaker. Especially now since even seven-ring magi can be killed by gunfire. Not to mention that the baron apparently has another sixty thousand men hiding near the city in addition to the fifty thousand with him right now.

I have to say, the baron can be really convincing. Well, it's more like he knows which buttons to push. I already don't want to go to Kenpus. I don't want to leave my brothers and sisters here. I don't know how history will remember me, not that I really care right now, but I gave the formula to the baron. I hope this doesn't come back to bite me, cause if it does, it'll be one hell of a bite.

Chapter 24 - Chilling Coincidence

It was currently just before sunrise. Claude however, had yet to sleep, nor did he feel anything like sleeping. That did not mean he was not tired, however. He had just finished the thirteenth diary entry, which was about as long as the last two. It took up two whole pages. It took all his energy just to copy it so he was forced to rest for two hours before he even got to translate it.

He’d translated so many pages by now, however, that he didn’t need to refer to the dictionary for the simplest and most common words, so things went much faster.

The moon had set, however, so there was no light in which he could bathe. The skies were completely black, save a few light pinpricks that got through the clouds.

Claude gave up on sleeping at all. There wasn’t enough time to get decent sleep, and any he did get would only make him grumpy when his sister woke him up. He was sixteen, so it shouldn’t be too hard on his body. He could always nap in class if it came to that. It wasn’t like he was the centre of his instructors’ attention. They might actually be happy to see him asleep rather than disturbing class.

That said, he still needed to rest a bit before he could push on with his work. He wondered if the end of the diary would contain any more interesting information. He was grateful for being sensitive to magic. If not, he would never have discovered this chance to learn about the true world of magic.

He never expected that the Amsra dynasty’s founder was far more than the leader of the simple stonemason brotherhood as he’d been taught. He was not just a descendant of a white sterling noble family, but also the largest supplier of the materials essential for their continued rule.

He might have been preparing for that one strike the diary mentioned for decades. He had yet to read the final diary entry, but he was pretty certain he already knew how it was going to end. Given the hindsight the history books offered, inaccurate as their version was to reality, the attack obviously succeeded and the few survivors were chased to Siklos. He had no idea, however, what happened to the diary’s author, or his friend.

The night sky was slowly dissolving into day just above the eastern horizon. Claude slipped his head into his bedroom and checked his hourglass. If it had kept turning on time, it should be just about five in the morning. He slipped back into the room. He felt much better now, despite not having bathed in the moonlight, and continued his work.

He lit his oil lamp and focused his attention on the 16th page of the cookbook.

......

Date: 26th of the 8th, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

......

This couldn’t be right... Claude was really familiar with the date written in ancient Hez, especially the symbols for numbers. It helped that they differed the least from the ones currently used. He could make out enough in the consistent format to read it by sight.

The last entry was on the 23rd of the 8th of 3341 NM. Why was two days skipped?

He looked carefully at the page he already had translated but that was really the date. Did somebody maybe tear out the other entries? But he couldn’t see any leftover bits of page, or anything in the binding that might suggest that.

He pondered this strangeness for a few more moments before shrugging and getting back to translating.

......

Date: 26th of the 8th, 3341 NM. Weather: Sunny.

We are leaving for Symposium tomorrow.

We stayed in the main camp all of the last three days. The baron and Tawari helped me make the gunpowder and we’ve got seven buckets of it now. We tested some of it in the mountains half a day’s ride from town. It works exactly like I predicted. If enough of it is used, we can get an explosion even bigger than that spell.

The strength and exact effect of the spell depends on the attributes and power of the caster, and exactly how the incantation is performed. With the gunpowder, however, the power-to-weight ratio is consistent, as is the kind of effect.

We blew up an entire knoll with our last test. I was very happy to see everyone gaping when the smoke and dust cleared. (If I’m honest, I was, too.)

The only really issue is that you have to be really close to the gunpowder to set it off. The furthest we were able to stretch it was ten metres. And then you only have fifteen seconds to get clear. Tawari can do it, but I certainly can’t, both because I’m only a four-ring and because I don’t specialise in combat magic like Tawari.

I don’t know if I’ll survive this, but I will make sure the tower is destroyed, the city taken, and all the magi killed.

I’ve decided to leave the diary here, just in case. I hope someone will find it and read about what happened.

If someone has, and you’re reading this right now, I’m Landes Palik. My family lives near Lake Balinga in a small fishing village called Whitestag. My father is Kuyez Palik, my mother is Alosha Molliny. I have two older brothers and a younger sister.

There’s an island in the lake called Egret. One of Loenk’s other towers is there. It’s where I learnt magic.

Please go there.

Loenk is dead. And I don’t know who will control the tower when you read this, or when you get there. My old home is in the basement near the steps. I hid some of my stuff under a loose bluestone tile on the ground. If you lift it out of the way you’ll see the stuff underneath the stone under it. I didn’t use magic to hide it, so no one should notice.

The stuff is in a stone box. There’s 35 shaliuns. Please give ten to my parents and five to my sister. You can keep the rest as a thank you gift. I also have two more diaries there and a book with my study notes.

I’m poor, so I can’t give you much, that’s already everything I own I didn’t bring with me...

......

This entry, too, spanned two pages, though it didn’t fill the last one.

Claude’s bones were frozen when he was done. Had fate arranged this? That this cookbook, which had drifted all over the continent for hundreds of years, found its way to this very town, at this particular time, and that he, one of perhaps only a few that were sensitive to magic, and no doubt even fewer that were aware that they were, found it? In his case, he only found out he was sensitive to magic because of the book itself! On top of that, Claude was already going to Egret. And his plans already included exploring that very tower’s ruins. He was not a very religious man, but he couldn’t help but feel like hands had been pushing him, arranging everything behind the scenes.

The lamp flickered as the oil ran dry, then whiffed out completely. The smoke rose hazily in the weak light bouncing off the clouds.

Claude rubbed his face, hard. Fate or not, this was how he found himself. What choice did he have but to go looking for that long-dead man’s -- what has he it called again -- stuff? He flipped open the diary.

Landes Palik.

His greatest worry was that, in the hundreds of years that had passed since that final entry was penned, someone had stumbled onto the stash. The tower collapsed decades ago and was now just a pile of rubble, if the things had not been taken already, they may be squashed beyond use, or they might be so trapped, so buried he could never find them or get to them even if he did. He prayed none of that was the case. He burned to learn their secrets.

The god of war’s shrine bell finally rang welcoming as much as announcing the day.

People slowly emerged from their houses, first in a trickle, then in a stream as they began their day.

Claude stared at the scene, his heart uneasy. A manual for learning magic would already have been shocking enough, but a diary that unveiling a secret six hundred years buried? That was something else entirely. He couldn’t say he wasn’t somewhat disappointed that it wasn’t a manual, however. But the secrets the diary unveiled were ample compensation.

Claude would not mention any of this to anyone, of course. It would bring nothing but trouble for him, even if he didn’t mention anything about the origin of his new knowledge. It would be only worse if people found out he could read magic text. That meant he had a talent, a talent of which he was aware, for magic. That could not be allowed. He would be lucky to spend the rest of his days in some prison. Less lucky to be executed on the spot. And miserably unlucky to become a guinea pig.

What was he thinking? Claude rubbed his face again. One of the disadvantages of his active imagination was its easy distraction. He had better wash his face and tackle the now way too long day.

His initial disappointment with the diary had now completely vanished. It would indeed have been disappointing if this massive coincidence only lead to him reading the thoughts of some non-descript magus. He was not disappointed with what he’d actually been given instead.

He could not fast forward time, however much he wanted, however, so all he could do now, was calmly live through the day and night that separated him from that lake, that island, that tower, and those books.

Chapter 25 - Here Come the Girls

He descended the stairs to wash his face and brush his teeth. He realized Arbeit was absent when he came to the last few steps on the final flight. How weird. He had not come home at any time during the night, either. Claude, however, quickly put his curiosity away. He freshened himself up and returned to the dining room. He greeted his parents, stroked his sister's head, pinched Bloweyk's face and toyed with him for a few moments, before sitting down.

He found his friends not long after leaving his house and the three walked to school together as always.

The diary occupied most of his mind, so he completely forgot to ask how the previous day's hunt had gone. In his defence, however, none of the other three brought it up either.

He tossed his bag on his table as he came to it in the classroom, collapsed into his chair, folded his arms over the bag, and fell asleep. Borkal knocked him over his head only a few moments later, however.

"What's wrong? Why so tired?"

"Yeah, well... I slept for most of the afternoon, so I couldn't last night. Now I'm tired... Oh, weren't you guys out hunting cats? How did it go?"

"Umm," Borkal's face was instantly red, "We got two cats, but couldn't tell if they were house cats or strays... We were still trying to figure it out when their owners came chasing after us. We managed to get away, but everyone knows me, so my dad gave me a good hiding when I got back because they'd gone and told him. He made me pay a thale to each of the owners."

Claude's smile vanished.

"You have to be kidding... Why did you shoot the poor things if you weren't sure if they were really strays? Where did you go hunting?"

"We went to the woods just outside of town. We shot at birds for a while, but we didn't get any so we went after a few cats. We found four fat cats in an empty yard. Eyke was so excited, and since we were in an empty yard we figured they were most likely strays, so we shot at them. We got two, but the other two were gone before we were ready to shoot again.

"We were just busy picking the two we got up when someone came at us with a cleaver. He was screaming something like 'cat burglar' now that I think about it."

No wonder they didn't bring it up on their own. Claude thanked his stars he hadn't gone hunting with them.

"Who told you fat cats are definitely strays? Only someone's pet could get enough food to get fat!"

"It's Eyke and Wero's fault! They're the ones that started shooting before we got a good look at the cats!" Borkal complained.

Claude shoved his fist into the other boy's ample stomach.

"It's your fault for eating so much. No one can possibly mistake you even if all they see is your silhouette!"

"I'm not fat! I'm just well covered!"[1]

The language class instructor, also their homeroom instructor, Weckham, marched into the classroom at that moment. The instructor usually 'cared' for him a lot and often asked him to answer questions in class, regardless of whether Claude really needed his care or felt like answering the questions or not. So much for his nap, he lamented, yawning.

......

Instructor Weckham paid the same amount of attention to Claude as he expected. He was called on to answer a question twice during the class. One question asked him to translate Hebrai phrases, he found that one especially taxing, since he'd been doing much the same thing the whole night. Unfortunately, his immediate tire was gone by the time class ended and he knew it would be back with a vengeance later in the day.

Borkal and Welikro rushed to the toilet almost before class was dismissed. Eriksson and Claude loitered around the corridor, waiting for them.

"Look. Here come the girls. I wonder if we can see that crush of yours," Eriksson murmured, poking Claude's side with one hand and pointing at the oncoming flowers with the other. The two stared hopefully, longingly at the segregated girls' classrooms.

"The he-- when did I get a crush?" Claude asked, affrontation swimming in his voice.

"Huh? Have you forgotten already? We had this deep, philosophical discussion about the girls' beauty last year, remember? Wero said Bozina was the best, but I knew it was Porya. Boa pegged that wide-eyed Betty, and you mistakenly identified Kefnie."

Damn that useless brat of a predecessor! He hadn't even been in this world at the time, how could, whoever this Kefnie was, be his crush? His consciousness wandered for a moment, delving into his library of inherited memory, and finally returned with the entries he sought.

Bozina was the tallest of the four in question. Despite her youth, she already had a rather mature figure, which spilled in all the right places, if a little excessively at certain angles. Claude was certain that parts of her were going to get in the way when she lived out the heroic aura she had about her. He wasn't in the least surprised when he'd heard she'd signed up for the fencing classes, though he felt very bad for her chest and shoulders. No doubt several boys' parents were looking to pair her with their offspring, the elders did say fertility was in the hips, after all. He was also not surprised that Wero was the one that liked her. He was more interested in a woman that could give him lots of children, even at the expense of other things.

Porya certainly deserved her position near the top of the beauty hierarchy, but she was too coy for Claude's tastes. She played innocent while flicking her eyelashes at every other boy across whom she came. It didn't help that she tended to become quite sour if a week or two went by without any of her prospective suitors getting her a gift. He had no interest in women so set on benefits and so willing to sell themselves for it. Sure, she had not yet unveiled herself for a man, but if she was flicking eyelashes at this age already, and doing it so freely whilst normal girls found that very... loose, she would no doubt move on to other kinds of loose flicking very soon.

Betty, by contrast, was one of the smartest children in their grade, among both the boys and the girls. She had a very slight frame, and her eyes were far apart, almost a little too far, but they shone with a vociferous intelligence. Claude had to admit, however, that it might also just be the reflections off the globe-round glasses she always wore. He always wondered if, on her nose, under the bridge of the glasses, and on her ears, under the glasses' ears, she didn't have thick calluses. He could not imagine the thin, glazed copper frame that made up the non-lense parts of the glasses were comfortable, or light, for that matter, though the weight was more a consideration because of the thickness of the lenses themselves.

Borkal had unique tastes, though Claude had no inclination to criticise them. He could certainly have done far worse. Then again, she did appear quite a bit younger than he knew her age was...

Kefnie, the one his predecessor had so liked and thought of as the most refined of the four, was far from it in his mind. She had a decent appearance, and her figure was well on its way to matching Bozina, if a few years behind. The school's uniforms were unisex, but even under them, and ignoring the obvious female hairstyles and faces, one could tell she was a girl under her clothes.

He suspected, in fact, that Claude had less of an interest in Kefnie, than he had in how she looked in a uniform. A quick shudder ran through his spine as he was reminded of the gender-bender fiction he'd read in his younger days.

"Oh yes. You even vowed you'd come back from your service on an expensive horse and ride Kefnie right to the altar," Eriksson continued, carefully choosing his verb to be as allusive as possible.

"Did I really say that?!" Claude moaned, tugging on his hair.

He had no doubt anyone who survived their teenage years regretted innumerable things from that time in their lives, but he was equally certain he had far more than most. Not to mention that he was regretting what someone else had done, not even his own actions...

"Really. Wero and Boa were there, too. You can ask them, too, if you like."

Claude's face's red turned a few shades, from embarrassment to anger. Why did he have to suffer the humiliation for things he had not done? It was so unfair!

"Let's drop it for now. Besides, Porya is the best. I'll make sure I'm rich by the time we graduate so I can snap her up before anyone else."

"Oh no you don't! I saw her first. We all agreed she was mine!" Eriksson half-shouted, shoving his finger in Claude's face and wagging it furiously.

Claude had to fight not to chuckle. Eriksson's reaction would have been right at home in a discussion about who was going to buy which car in a dealership in his previous life.

Humour aside, however, the poor boy was really too foolish. The marriage wouldn't last a year, if it ever took form in the first place. She'd no doubt be cheating on him before they'd even said their vows.

"You can't treat a friend like this. I even helped you and Kefnie along! Not to mention that I've been asking around and heard what her family situation is..."

Eriksson's voice trailed off as though he was teasing Claude, expecting him to shake him around by his shoulders and demand he tell him what he knew immediately.

"Not interested," Claude replied, despite doing just that to Eriksson mentally.

He knew Eriksson would only hold back longer the more Claude played along, so instead he would simply just not play at all. It was a game, and it was no fun if he didn't play.

Eriksson played mysterious for a few more seconds before finally caving.

"Kefnie has a sister, Kesline, four years her senior. She's even more beautiful, I hear. The older boys call her the Tavern Queen. She works as a barmaid in The Mermaid by the pier. Blacksnake and Shark even fought over whose territory the inn was in so they could claim flirting rights over her.

"She doesn't have any other family, however, and the two live together. Her father was Seawhale's captain. You know about it being shipwrecked six year ago, right? Well, I hear her mother died of heartbreak not long after. The two live in that old two-story to the west of the docks. Apparently Shark's leader Ironaxe Hanba's younger brother is currently involved with Kesline. Kefnie wanted to help her sister out at work a few times, but Kesline insists she finish school first so she can get a decent job. She doesn't want her to be just another barmaid."

"She sounds like a good big sister."

"That she does. I got a glimpse of her last month when I tagged along with my dad when he went to The Mermaid for a meeting. She's got all the right dimensions, I'll tell you that. Too bad her face is locked in that scowl she always has. It's downright off-putting."

"Who do you think is more beautiful between the two?"

"Between the two sisters? Kesline wins by a kilometre. She beats her little sister in every category that matters. Then again, Kefnie still has four years to grow before you can compare her to how Kesline is right now... So it's not really a fair comparison."

"And what did you say it was you did to help me out with her?" Claude asked, with as much trepidation as curiosity.

"You really forgot? We fought for her sake." Eriksson said, puffing out his chest.

"Fought with whom?"

"Two new guys from the ships. Two brothers, apparently. They had just come to town. I hadn't seen them before that fight, at least. Kefnie came to that fishmonger next to my family's pier in the docks. The two were busy delivering the fish they'd sold to it and started teasing her. One had even grabbed her wrist and was beginning to drag her to the chapel saying he was going to marry her right then.

"When I saw what was happening I had some of our workers chase them down and give them a good beating. I even threatened to sink their ship if they made trouble for her again.

"I paid for the fish she wanted to buy and told her you liked her when she thanked me. I also told her about that vow you made to us that you would 'definitely marry her when you grow up'. She darted away with a tomato face. Heheheh..."

"I..." Claude started saying, then closed his mouth and lifted his knee into Eriksson's arse as hard as he could.

What the hell?! Why'd he go and do that? What a useless bun!

"Right, well, now I'm definitely marrying Porya!"

"Noooooo... You can't do that! I'll call you Boss if you want, even grandpa! But leave my poor Porya alone!"

"What are you doing?" Borkal and Welikro asked at the same time as they turned the corner.

"Nothing, just a small disagreement." Claude said as he shoved Eriksson aside like an old rag.

"Um, Boa, the girls left already."

"Come on! Surely my Betty couldn't have left yet!" Borkal half shouted as he leaned against the railings.

A disgusting chill ran down Claude's spine.

"Don't bother! She hasn't come out yet. Let's go back to class. Look. The instructor's coming! Let's go, class is about to start."

[1]I bet you know where that came from, huh?

Chapter 26 - Father's Rebuke

Dinnertime.

Arbeit had yet to return, even now. Claude didn't have the slightest idea where he might be.

His mother had finished and taken the yawning Bloweyk upstairs. She said the young boy had a great time playing with the slightly older girl next door and skipped his afternoon nap so he should hit to hay early.

Angelina was also done. She quickly cleaned the table, and now washed the dishes in the kitchen. Claude really liked that part of his sister's personality. She was a very delightful, helpful, and precocious little girl. She was only twelve years old, but she was already turning into a very good housewife.

Claude's father leaned back in his chair and lit up his post-meal puff. It looked like something very complicated was occupying his mind, probably some new policy.

Claude put down the silver utensils and took a small linen cloth from the stack on the table to wipe his mouth. Dinner had been bony beef stew. It could be made from cheap cuts of meat from the butcher, but Claude loved it. Eating around the bone, however, took time and a delicate touch. He was the only one really concerned with eaking out every fibre of meat he could, which also meant he was usually the last one by a decent margin to finish.

He took his plate to the kitchen and handed it to his sister, then returned to the dining table.

"Father, tomorrow's Friday. We have the afternoon off. Eyke, Boa, Wero, and I want to go to Balinga to fish. We've already rented Old Sunny's boat. We're going to camp by the lake as well. I won't be home for the weekend."

He was going to Egret one way or another, so he needed an excuse, this was the best one, and it helped that it was the truth as well, if not the whole truth.

The time his predecessor fell into a hole in the ice and fell sick was a whole other issue. All the boys were generally good swimmers. But good swimmer or not, such cold water stopped one dead.

It was also a nice bonus that fishing was a great way to make some pocket change. It had become almost a tradition in town for thrifty teens to fish by the lakeside, or even to rent a boat for a weekend, for vacation money. Those renting boats were somewhat fewer, though still far from rare, though they usually asked the fishermen from whom they were renting the boat to go out with them and show them the best spots to fish.

Morssen put down his black, ivory pipe and gazed at his son.

"You lack money? Why do you want to go fishing?"

Claude nodded.

"Yes. I borrowed some money from my friends. I want to pay it back with the fish I catch this weekend."

"How much do you owe?"

"Not much, a thale and three riyas."

"What did you buy? Where did you buy it? What sort of thing costs this much?"

It was less that Claude's father was angry at his son for spending so much money, than that he was afraid the boy had been scammed. Few things a teenager would be interested in buying would cost that much. Things were usually either much cheaper than that, or far more expensive. Not that that was not quite a bit of money, it was the equivalent of a month of the average peasant's income. If he was really scammed, Morssen would have to teach the bastard a few good lessons. It wasn't just about his son losing money, scamming his son was challenging his personal authority.

Claude shook his head.

"Don't worry. I wasn't tricked or scammed. I bought it from Mock's Goods, Well, it's called Mock's Fishing and Boating Tools now. The last owner got a cookbook made of beastskin. It looks like it's several hundred years old. It must have belonged to an old noble family's cook.

"It should be an antique. I like the recipes it has a lot as well. I thought I'd buy it for mother for her birthday. Wakri wouldn't sell it for less than two thales. I had to borrow the money I didn't have from my friends, but they managed to argue him down a little."

Morssen didn't appear moved.

"Show it to me. I would know better whether it's an antique."

Claude quickly went upstairs to get the cookbook.

He'd copied the entire diary, so he didn't need to keep the book anymore. He was quite uneasy about the last entry as well, so it would do him better to give the book to someone else, like his father or mother, for safe-keeping.

It was of no use to him anymore, and he could get in a lot of trouble if its secrets were discovered and it was still in his hands. He didn't like the idea of that happening at all. There was also the case that he'd told his friends he wanted to buy the book for his mother, if they asked her about it and he hadn't given it to her yet, it would open up a whole other world of question he had no desire to answer.

What reason did he have to keep the book, anyway? He certainly didn't cook. People would naturally conclude he had to have some other reason to keep it.

Claude admitted he was paranoid. He had transmigrated from another world, he knew how life worked, at least far better than a sixteen-year-old should. And having transmigrated, he was even more cautious about giving anyone reason to look more closely at him. And a sixteen-year-old boy holding on to an old cookbook was definitely such a reason.

He thought about it more often than he'd like, but he'd managed to keep himself from being consumed by it entirely. It pestered him until he dealt with whatever was its cause, but then it left him alone as well.

He stood in front of his father again, now, and handed him the book.

Morssen took it and gave it a sniff. He opened his spectacle box and took out his glasses. He slipped them on in a practiced motion and glared at the book's cover for a while before flipping through it slowly.

Several minutes passed silently thusly before he finally took of his glass and put the book down.

"Wakri is a proper merchant alright. He doesn't trick others like a hawker. It really is an antique. He didn't overcharge you either."

"That's what I thought too," Claude was quick to agree, "It's made entirely of beastskin. It's nothing like any of the common books I've seen in the bookshop before. I think it must have belonged to one of the nobles killed during the Tricolour War.

"I thought it would be a good gift for mother since it has seventeen great recipes and won't wear down quickly. Not to mention it's noble history."

Claude reached for the cookbook on the table, but his father's hand wouldn't let it go.

Morssen cleared his throat and shook his head at his son.

"I'm really happy that you're such a filial child, but you're still too young. We don't expect you to spend the money you do get on us. It's enough that you want to give us gifts.

"This is a great gift for your mother, but it's also an antique, one with a possible grand background, like you said. It would be a waste to put it in the kitchen where it would be damaged easily. You're welcome to copy the recipes into a normal paper book, but I think the original should stay in the bookshelf in my study."

"Okay, but I still owe my friends the money I borrowed from them," Claude said unwillingly.

Morssen took out his black, gold-laced deerskin money pouch and gingerly took out two thales. He paused, the two thales ringing in his hand as he thought, then put one back.

"How about this... I'll cover the thale, and the three riyas will be your gift to your mother, okay? Copy the recipes and give them to her on her birthday."

"Okay..." Claude almost fainted at his father's stinginess.

"I'll still need a good notebook and a nice cover for her. I don't have the money for that."

"Didn't I give you two riyas for books just the other day?"

"I bought Anna's hairpin and Blowk's figurines with them..." Claude murmured guiltily, his head lowered, the big toe of his right foot drilling into the floor.

"Look at you..." Morssen sighed, "You're so close to being an adult but you still haven't learned how to work with money… How are you going to make it in the world if you spend all your money on the first things that catch your eye? Anna's still so young, what good will such an expensive hairpin do her? A copper one is more than enough. And Blowk either breaks his toys or gets bored of them in a few days, so why buy him such an expensive set for him?

"I know you love your brother and sister, but you can't spoil them. I gave you that money to buy books, not gifts. Spending money feels good, and your brother and sister may be happy to get stuff, but you broke your promise to me. Where are those books you promised me you were going to buy with that money? You should never break your word, no matter how well-intentioned your reason behind it. You'll get nowhere in the world if people can't trust you to keep your word."

Claude finally realised his father already knew he didn't buy the books he said he was going to with the money his father lent him. He was waiting for Claude to let it slip somehow so he could teach him a proper lesson.

"As punishment for breaking your word, I'll only give you this thale. You'll have to cover the rest out of your own pocket."

"Okay… I'll use the money I make from the fish to pay my friends back the rest of the money and get the money I need to buy the notebook and the cover."

"Sigh, stubborn as usual, huh?" Morssen sighed.

He stared at his son for a few moments then sighed again and took out two riyas.

"It's not that I don't want to give you the money, but I can't trust you'll just buy other stuff with the money. I can't teach you to just ask for more money whenever you run out. You have to learn to be thrifty with what you have. I would be a failure of a father if I can't teach you that.

"I only have a three-thale salary. I make just one riyas a day. We don't just make money out of thin air, you know, but we still spend it on you guys without reservation. You have to learn how to be careful with what we give you, though. Don't just buy anything that catches your eye."

Claude pouted as he took the money from his dad. Did his father really think he didn't know about his other income? If they really had to live on just his normal salary, they would not live like they did.

"Why are you giving him money, Father?!"

Chapter 27 - The Drunk Arbeit

Someone cried suddenly in the doorway, startling the father and son.

Claude's eyes darted to the door to see Arbeit standing there, staring at the money in his little brother's hand, eyes bloodshot.

Morssen frowned as a pungent whiff of alcohol assaulted his nose.

"Where were you? You didn't come home last night, and now you reek of booze?" Morssen's voice raised as he spoke.

"I... I didn't go anywhere... I was just... just playing cards with some friends... and... and drank some alcohol..." Arbeit said, convulsing in a suppressed vomit as he stumbled to the table, "That's not important... now... Why are you giving… him... so much money... You... you've never given me so much..."

Arbeit stretched his hand out for the money, but Claude slapped it away.

"This isn't for me. It's to pay back money I borrowed from my friends to pay for an antique book I bought for mother."

"You... you're lying!--" Arbeit half lost his grip on the table and nearly fell, but his other hand darted to the table fast enough to stabilise him. "--What... what piece of crap antique... book... when did antique books suddenly… become so… common... you... lying to me are you..."

Arbeit pointed at Morssen. His stupor made it almost impossible for him to gauge distance, so his finger very nearly slammed into his father's eye.

"You... you're picking favorites... giving him so... so much money... If I didn't come back... I... I wouldn't even know..."

Morssen, already on the brink, pitched over. No one had ever been this rude or insulting to him, much less any of his children. He rose out of his chair, Claude didn't know if he did it quickly or not, it seemed to be both a violent jump and a glacial growth like that of a mountain at the same time.

"You're drunk. Go wash your face, brush your teeth and clean your mouth -- you stink -- and tidy yourself up. You're Sir Fux's personal secretary, you have to look the part. You cannot lose your composure like that, and you certainly can't stumble around town like a drunkard!"

His drunk son couldn't be bothered with him, however.

He looked at the money still in Claude's hands and his lips started moving again.

"You... you can't give him... my... my money... this is my money... all this... is mine..."

He grabbed his father by his collar. He opened his mouth to say something again, but a bubble of gas decided at that moment to escape his gut, and he belched right into his father's face.

"Let go!" Morssen shouted furiously.

"No... I won't!" Arbeit shouted back just as loudly. Indeed, he was completely overtaken by Dutch courage. "Give me my... money... all this house's money... is... mine..."

Claude didn't see the point in trying to talk to a drunkard. He stepped forward, grabbed his brother's hands and twisted them as he shoved the man away from his father. Arbeit stumbled back several paces before finally stabilising himself.

"Step aside!" Morssen barked as he pushed Claude out of the way.

He half-lunged forward in a single, long stride and his palm connected with his son's cheek. The drunkard spun and collapsed to the ground, his face already swelling.

"Buzz off to your room. Come see me when you're sober tomorrow morning!" he roared, turning around and heading to the stairs. He stopped after two steps, quickly turned around and took the cookbook, and continued on his way.

Claude put the money in his pocket before turning to Arbeit, ready to rebuke him as well, but the sod was out cold.

He knelt beside him just to make sure he wasn't dead, and got a whiff of alcohol in his face. Nope, he was fine, alright. He stood up, gave the bastard a good kick, and turned around. He found his little sister staring at him from the kitchen's doorway. He didn't know how much she'd seen, but he suspected everything after his brother first shouted.

"It's okay, Anna. Arbeit's just drunk and Dad taught him a lesson," he said, quickly moving to her side and stroking her hair.

"You're going to leave him like that?" she asked, peering around his chest at her oldest brother.

"Yup. It's not like I can carry him to his room, or want to for that matter. Who asked him to grow so tall?"

His little sister stared at him with puppy-dog eyes for several long seconds and he sighed, turned around, and dragged his brother by his legs into the room's nearest corner.

"Go to his room and get him a blanket. I don't want him to be sick tomorrow when Dad is really going to scold him and get dad's sympathy."

"What difference does it make to drag him there?"

Claude nodded.

"Mom won't see him there tomorrow morning. She'll just think he's still sleeping in his room. It's not like I can carry him up the stairs. He can go to his room on his own if he wakes up in the night.--" He glanced into the kitchen over his sister's head. "--You done cleaning up already? Help me put out the candles and shut the doors and windows then. Oh, go get his blanket first. I'll wait for you."

"Okay," Angelina smiled and darted up the stairs obediently.

......

With the cookbook out of his hands and everything in it read, all Claude's worries were dealt with. He quickly tidied up his desk and got a few things ready for his trip, then went to bed. He slept soundly, only waking up when the bell rang.

A that was a good sleep... He murmured to himself in his mind.

He quickly freshened up and went downstairs for breakfast. He recalled the previous night's excitement as he came down the stairs. He found his brother sitting by the table, sipping tea slowly, his face pale and swollen, the fingers still visible on the bulging skin. He was in his pajamas and it looked like he'd even taken a bath.

Morssen must have just finished lecturing him as he sat meekly, but his eyes burned hatefully as they swept over Claude..

"Come here, Claude," Morssen said in a deep voice, beckoning him closer.

"Good morning. Need me for something?"

"Why did you leave your brother in the dining room?"

Claude shrugged innocently.

"I couldn't move him, and I definitely couldn't carry him up the stairs. You were so angry I didn't want to bother you, so I just left him downstairs. I did put a blanket over him."

"Ugh..."

Morssen grunted, words failing him. He had forgotten he had been the one to put that palm print on his son's face. He was so angry he'd struck out without thinking, and had stormed off without thinking about getting the young man to his room. He didn't think for one minute that his son even tried to get him up the stairs before deciding to leave him where he was though.

"You did it on purpose. Aren't you usually really strong?" Arbeit chirped.

"You shouldn't start something you can't finish," Claude warned threateningly, "If you weren't drunk you wouldn't have just passed out. Not to mention that you wouldn't have been so brave to try and assault Father and gotten slapped. You must've lost all your money last night during that card game, right? That's why you freaked out when you got home, isn't it? Tell me, how much did you lose, huh?".

"I... I didn't play any cards... I only went drinking a little. Don't spout bullshit," Arbeit shot back guiltily.

"You told us yourself!" retorted.

He knew how much his father hated gamblers and alcoholics, especially since his grandfather had been both.

"I... I was only spouting nonsense 'cause I was drunk. I didn't play cards," Arbeit insisted stubbornly.

"Shut up, both of you!" Morssen barked angrily.

Claude sat down obediently and started eating his breakfast.

"Going fishing this afternoon?" Morssen asked finally.

"Yes. We already paid for the boat. Hopefully I'll make enough money to pay back the debt."

"Alright, I'll let you go. But you have to be careful, okay?"

"Yes, Father. I will."

"As for you, Arbeit. You'll stay home this weekend. Your face has to heal before I'll let you go out again. I can't have you going out looking like that. You'll be the town's laughing stock. Sir Fux should return after the break, so you have to freshen up and work hard. Don't disappoint me again."

"Yes, Father," Arbeit said clearly, yet softly.

......

Every year on the 26th of the 5th, the eve of Restoration Day, the middle and elementary schools organised celebratory events.

Almost every school did exactly the same thing. The students were gathered and paraded in town. They were taken to Memorial Plaza, where Stellin IX fired the war's first shot. They would offer flowers to his statue, and the headmaster would deliver a speech.

The mayor would then do his own speech and everyone would bow to the kingdom's banner three times before dispersing and going home.

Claude had to go home before he could join his friends to change out of his uniform and into his hunting clothes.

The four friends met up at the pier shortly after lunch.

Old Sunny was docked and waiting for them when they arrived. His boat was about seven metres long and four metres wide at its widest. It was completely filled with gear, leaving only about ten square meters for anything the boys brought along and for they themselves to sit.

It was a very common fishing boat design. They usually carried up to three people and could only go out in calm waters and had to stay close to shore if they went out to sea.

Borkal paid Old Sunny, the old man gave them a few words of blessing and then left.

"Do we have everything?" Eriksson asked as he put down the last luggage.

He was the de facto captain of the boat.

"Wait," Claude said, "Don't you also have a net? Let's take that, too. I told my family I would go fishing, so I can't leave without even bringing a net. We'll drop it somewhere close to the island."

Chapter 28 - Sailing

The boat Old Sunny rented them was called Arrowfish, as in the fish that sped like an arrow and was agile. There were too many such boats in Whitestag. Nobody really cared about their names. The names weren't even recorded in the town hall's property and sales registers.

The ship had three below-deck spaces. The deck's planks were actually both the roof and the hatch that lead down to them, so one had to remove the planks to gain access. All the spaces were small, but the middle one, being in the widest portion of the boat, was the largest. It had a small cot for the crew to take turns sleeping between their shifts. It was very uncomfortable in rougher waters, but there wasn't enough headroom for a hammock. The small cabin in the nose of the ship was used for storage, charcoal, firewood, and utensils were all stored there.

The rear-most space was the livewell. The entire space was filled with a metal container in which water from the lake held the caught fish. A cork stopper could be plugged out at the bottom to let water in.

Balinga was fifty kilometres at its longest and ten kilometres at its widest. One end as separated from the sea by only a small sandbank, which came and went throughout the year, and even the smallest sea swell or rainfall could breach, the other end terminated in Kemda Swamp. Balinga was less a lake than it was a lagoon in that it was basically a basin in which fresh water from the river and the swamp mixed with the saltwater of the sea spilling over the sandbank. The lake wasn't very deep either, becoming as big as it was because the terrain was very flat.

The combination of all these factors, resulted in about a third of the lake, the portion the furthest from the sandbank and closest to the swamp, being mostly pure fresh water, the third in the middle was a mix of both fresh and saltwater, progressing in a gradient from purely fresh to purely salt across it, and the third nearest the sandbank was almost pure saltwater. Whitestag stood just inside the middle third and its water was ever-so-slightly salty.

The rare situation in which the town found itself, meant it caught a unique collection of fish. For example, most of the dried longtail swordfish was given to the royal family as the town's tribute. The swordfish couldn't be transported freshly to the capital because it was so far away. The fish couldn't be kept alive for the journey, and they would rot too quickly if they weren't preserved, so they were dried and shipped like that.

"Raise the sails! Arrowfish will now depart!" Eriksson shouted seriously, holding the tiller.

Welikro undid the moorings and Claude undid the brail and let the single weatherworn square sail of the boat unfurl and catch the wind. Borkal pushed against the jetty with the punt. The boat at first did nothing, then slowly began shifting away from the side.

Borkal stood at the bow, stretched his middle finger and gave it a lick before waving it in the air.

"No wind! What's the point of the sail?!"

"Can't hurt!" Eriksson returned, "There's bound to be at least some, and it should pick up as we get further out!" he shouted from the stern.

"Don't slack off!" he shouted at Claude and Welikro, "Start rowing. We won't get there until midnight if we wait for wind!"

The two frowned at him furiously, but swung out the oars and started rowing.

It took them ten minutes and a lot of sweat and moaning to make a hundred metres from shore. A light breeze picked up and the sail bulged ever so slightly.

"Alright, you guys can stop now," Eriksson said once he felt the breeze would hold.

Welikro was the first to swing his oar back on board, though Claude wasn't far behind. Claude rubbed his shoulders as he stared thankfully at the sail.

"Damn, I was not expecting to have to row..." Claude complained.

"You're too weak. You should practice rowing more. Look at Wero, he's perfectly fine," Eriksson shot back.

"How long will we have to sail?" Borkal asked.

Eriksson looked at the sail like he knew what he was doing for a few moments before answering.

"The wind's pretty tame, so probably two or three hours."

"Why do we have to dock by the outpost? Why not just cross the lake and beach by the mountain? It won't even take an hour.” Borkal complained.

Eriksson smiled, shaking his head.

“You’re not a fisherman, or sailor for that matter. Everyone knows that part of the island shore is nothing but a swamp, there's nowhere to beach. Just check all the logs and plants there when we pass it. You'll drown the moment you step off the boat.

“It may be much shorter, but it certainly isn't a way. We'll still have to sail up the coast to the outpost, we'll only have wasted our time.”

Claude turned to Welikro.

“Didn’t you go to Egret with your dad? Did you moor by the outpost as well?"

"No, we didn't," the boy said proudly, "We didn't even use a boat. It was winter, that whole area was frozen solid. We travelled by sleds."

Right now it was the 5th month. Spring was in full bloom and everything was thawed. There was no easy way ashore apart from the outpost.

That didn't mean he found sitting around on such a small boat for several hours any less boring. Eriksson, seeing his resentment, offered him a way out. He took out his net and two fishing poles. There was no point in wasting good fishing time, after all. They might as well start catching while they crawled down the lake. And since they were going to fish, why not make a competition out of it. Borkal and Welikro grabbed the two poles and settled in each to a side of the tiller. Eriksson, still holding the tiller, shouted for them to start and both poles flung their hooks into the water.

Claude just leaned against the cap rail and stared at the sky. White clouds floated by slowly and the sun beat down on him in turns with the shade of the clouds. The water glittered as waves disrupted the mirror. Small dots, probably other fishing boats, dotted the horizon.

He only had a few minutes of peace, however, before the two 'fishermen' started shouting. Their lines had tangled and they were fighting over who was to blame.

"Take the tiller while I sort this out." Eriksson said, glancing at Claude.

Come to think of it, no one really knew what they were doing right now beside Eriksson. He lived and breathed sail and probably spent more time on boats or working on them than he did anything else, beside attending school, of course. He was known as a handy boy even among seasoned sailors and fishermen. The Altroni family truly had a worthy heir.

Claude didn't doubt at least part of it was the men trying to butter up Eriksson's father, but by the same token, at least part of it was genuine praise. Eriksson only needed half a minute to untangle the mess of lines. He told the two to cast their lines to each side of the ship instead so they were father apart before returning to the tiller.

"We're on course, we can just fix the tiller in place. No need to bother with it all the time," Claude said.

"No, you shouldn't ever fix a tiller or a wheel. We can't just sail in a straight line, you know. The lake is big, but it isn't deep, we have to sail around reefs and sandbanks every now and again. Not to mention that we have to adjust as the wind shifts to keep our course straight. And then there's the currents… They're not very strong in the lake, but the boat is much smaller than ships would be at sea."

Claude nodded.

"Okay. I didn't think about all of that. I always thought you only had to point the ship in the right direction and there you go."

"You don't even think about everything constantly once you get used to it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still have to be done," Eriksson tested the wind again, "Hold the tiller again. The wind isn't strong enough to shift the sail on its own. I have to go give it a tug."

The two switched out again and Claude took the chance to learn as much as he could from his friend. Eriksson, for his part, was delighted to see his friend take an interest in sailing, and happily told him everything he knew, watered down so a landlubber could understand it, of course. Time passed quickly and Borkal and Welikro were still dry when the outpost came into view.

Claude had read that the sea used to be far more dangerous than it was these days. Pirates, for one, were a far bigger and direct threat than they were nowadays. Whitestag had it much better than most, but it wasn't untouched. The sandbank that separated Balinga from the sea was also incomplete at the time, not enough sediment had deposited to fill it, so ships could sail right into the lagoon and straight to Whitestag's waterfront.

In response to their attacks, the region's militia built the small stone outpost right next to the channel.

Whitestag formed its own militia and expanded the small outpost into a small fort. It was originally only used to warn the town by smoke signal of approaching pirates. But it became known as the Stone Outpost, and it had been called that ever since, even after it was abandoned when the threat of pirates faded away.

Not long after the outpost's expansion, people started trapping the channel. Fishing boats were small enough, and had shallow enough drafts that they didn't have to sail in the channel, but the larger pirate ships would run aground if they tried to sail out of the channel, and so the channel could be trapped to stop them from getting in without affecting the local industry.

The outpost was occupied by the kingdom's military a few years before the civil war and turned into a proper fortress again, though its name stuck. One of the army's brigades was at the fort when Stellin IX started the war, but they got to the town too late and were forced to surrender.

They later accepted Stellin IX's offer of recruitment and left with him, leaving the fort once again abandoned. The outpost had not come back into use since.

"Let me do it," Eriksson said as they got closer and took hold of the tiller.

"See it? The channel runs right by it there. We'll moor there," Eriksson said.

"That should work, yes. We can leave the net there as well. We'll check it when we pack up."

Eriksson nodded, smiling.

Chapter 29 - Camping

It was no easy feat to lay a net down properly. And Eriksson's net was designed to be used from a proper fishing ship out to sea, not a small boat on a shallow lake. And then there was the little matter that was in the storeroom for repairs. Nets broke the most of all tools fishermen used. It took only a single outcrop of rock to tear the entire net to bits.  Even big fish could do considerable damage unless the net was specifically designed to handle them.

In an age without acrylics and plastics, most nets were made of hemp or leather. The more expensive ones might be made of animal ligaments. The cheapest ones were made of hair, either horse or human.

The kind of net they had on hand were ten metres across. This one, however, had a massive gash running along its length on one side, which left only a six metre by four metre segment useable. As a result, it could only be used in pretty shallow waters. The depth where they intended to drop the net, however, was just two metres deep.

They were forced to pull the net back and sail closer to the channel where the water was deeper. It was quite uncertain that they would catch anything even with the net correctly deployed however.  This one was meant to catch larger fish. The holes in it were larger than most of the fish that could be found in the lake, which meant most of the fish could just swim through it.

They came back to their place of mooring by the time the sky started darkening, the sun long set. They drew it against the rocks and moored it to a nearby mulberry tree. They quickly unloaded their luggage and headed to a decent camping site.

While Eriksson called the shots on the boat, Welikro was in charge on land.

"Here," he said, finally.  It wasn't far from the water, luckily, and they quickly went about setting up.

"Cut the shrubs and grass down. Clean up the place first then we'll pitch the tent. Hey, Boa, Where are you going?" Welikro roared.

"Didn't you say to cut the grass?" Borkal asked.

"Beat the shrubs down with this," Welikro said, handing Borkal a stick.

"Why. Can't we just cut it right away?"

He did as he was told, however. He'd only struck the nearest shrub twice when a lizard, several scorpions, a dozen or more spiders, and who know how many flies darted out from under it.

"Even a snake…" he muttered several seconds later as the long, brown thing sailed out of a small hole somewhere under the shrub into the distance.

"Let's just burn the place out." Claude suggested.

"The plants are too wet. They won't take easily. We'll have to waste too much of our oil."

Luckily it didn't take too long to clear a space large enough for their tent.

"Sort the shrubs. We'll use them to start the fire tonight. Remember to throw out the green ones--" Welikro told Borkal, "--Eyke, get the lime powder and sulphur. Spread the powder on the ground and the sulphur around the tent. It should keep the insects away. Claude, you get an axe and come with me. We'll look for firewood."

"Hold this." Welikro said as he shoved his stick into Claude's hand and the two set off, Claude carefully beating all the bushes as they passed.

It didn't take them long to find a dead tree.

"This'll do just fine," Welikro said as his axe chopped into the trunk with a satisfying, hollow thunk.

Claude didn't do anything, however. He just stared at the ground, at a huge, grey rock that made up most of the surface on their side of the tree. The tree's dry roots stretched underneath the rock and peeled through a large crack that ran down its centre.

"What's wrong?"

Claude pointed at the rock.

"Why's it so flat?"

"It's nothing rare. It's a road. You should see them quite often around here.

"Can't be. This is a road? Aren't these rocks too big? They're almost three by one. Wouldn't it have been too hard to move them?"

"Hahaha..." Welikro laughed again, "You know about tower ruins on the island, right? The magic tower's ruins? This path goes to it. If you and the others have the guts, we can go camp there instead.

"These rocks were probably made and placed here by magi long ago. They're definitely manmade, but at the same time they definitely couldn't have been made by normal people. Nobody is going to go to all the trouble it takes to make this kind of a path just to take you to a simple tower."

Claude smiled happily to himself. He couldn't be happier at Welikro's dare.

"Fine, let's camp at the ruins. I want to see whether the legends are true."

Welikro shook his head.

"They're just myths. I came here twice with my dad and we camped there both times. Nothing happens there at all."

"How big are the ruins?"

"They're huge." Welikro said as he continued hacking at the tree. He split it into segments and then split the segments lengthwise into strips.

"It should be at least as wide as your mansion. It's completely collapsed though. It's basically just a pile of rubble now."

Claude had to think very carefully to remember how the mansion looked. He never really payed attention to it so he couldn't easily remember how big it was. All in all, however, it should be about forty metres long. But it was a rectangle, the tower was round, so it would be forty metres across in all directions. Each floor ought to be 1600 square metres!

Welikro finally finished his chopping.

"I say these stones were made by magi because they're also the same as the stones the tower is made of. When I asked my dad about it, he said no one could build towers that big today. Only magi could."

Claude stacked the pieces of wood on a nearby rock as he listened and took out his knife to split a few of the pieces into smaller lighting pieces. It wasn't easy, but the dry wood split without too much trouble.

They were done in half an hour and returned to the camp. Borkal and Eriksson were also just finishing up spreading the two compounds around the camp and pitching the tents. They beastskin walls flawed the darkness greyly in the dimming light. Welikro's tent could fit two people, Eriksson's, which came from the boat, could fit just one.

Only three could thus sleep at a time, but it wasn't an issue since one of them had to stay up to keep watch and keep the fire going.

The two boys were waiting for them, fire starters in hand and shrub sticks stacked and ready to be lit. A few strikes later their fuel caught light and the sticks smoked away more than burned.

"Enough, look at how black your faces are!  Go wash yourselves… Not by the shore, go there! There's a small stream there that runs to the shore… Bring two buckets of water with you while you're at it!" Welikro shouted at the pair as they darted off.

Oh, that was right, Claude did hear running water while they were chopping up the tree. But shouldn't it have been frozen further upstream from the cold still?

"I thought about it when we were chopping the wood," Welikro said, as if reading Claude's mind, "The stream runs just next to the road. It apparently doesn't freeze even during the winter. My dad doesn't know why either."

He plopped a few stumps of firewood on the shrubs and give it a couple of good blows. Small flames finally lighted on the semi-damp sticks and started licking at the wood.

The two boys set up a makeshift rack and stacked the wood in it. The other two boys came trotting back, faces shining cleanly again, just as they finished. A pot soon found its way onto the quickly lighting wood and soon bubbled steam happily.

"Watch the fire." Welikro commanded. "Swap the wood out as they blacken. We'll use the charred stumps tonight."

"Why?" Claude asked.

"We'll stack them around the camp. The smell will keep the bigger animals away, and we can light them much easier than unburnt wood if need be."

Claude nodded quietly.

Eriksson and Borkal had left them again and were now returning with the buckets of water. It was finally Claude's time to take the lead. None of his friends knew how to cook, really cook. Borkal had never even set foot in a kitchen, and Eriksson and Welikro only knew enough to turn raw food into something that was safe to eat, though no one in their right mind would call what they made food. Claude was very much a fornicator in his previous life, and he'd picked up kitchen skills and bedroom skills alike along the way.

He'd brought flour, preserved meat, dried fish, salt, and a few apples along. He'd also brought honeyed bread, but that didn't last even an hour between the four on the boring trip from town.

The only starch he could make for their dinner now was gruel. Resigned to his fate, he began stirring the boiling water as he pour a cup or two of flour in. While it simmered away happily, he cut the meat into edible pieces, both the fish and red meat. The fish went into the pot with a little salt. The gruel came out okay, though it lacked good flavour since he didn't have any marrow.

"Don't be anxious. We'll ambush a few animals by the stream when they come to drink early next morning. We'll have decent meat by tomorrow," Welikro consoled him, gun cradled in the fold of his other arm, as Claude stirred at the pot.

Chapter 30 - Matchlock

Claude saw another world's firearm for the first time. He had only seen a few examples of the earliest types from pictures in the books in his father's study. He secretly pointed it around. It didn't appear very different from the specimens he'd seen in a museum in his past life.

Welikro said his father had retired with it, a 'Gally mark 3 matchlock' he'd called it. It was indeed one of the earliest firearms ever made. The military was currently using Aubass Mark 2s. The Gally matchlocks were long retired.

It was a decent military weapon, but it lacked the accuracy marksmanship required. His father had two purpose-built hunting muskets made as soon as he could afford it. This musket was nothing but a memento of his soldier days now. When Welikro became old enough, he all but inherited the musket and it was all he used for hunting now.

"Can private citizens buy or commission muskets for personal use?"

"Yup," Welikro smiled, still gazing at the matchlock, "Baromiss has a public armory. They make several thousand muskets a year and sell whatever the military doesn't buy off to the public. It's the largest armory in the three prefectures. They also accept commissions, at a premium, of course. Of course, you have to be at least a dignitarian to make a commission, but in principle anyone can buy or commission a firearm. Military veterans also get a great discount."

"How are your father's muskets different from this one?"

Claude knew little of true value of these old firearms. As far as he were concerned, they were all the same. Both designs were loose-powder, front-loading, matchlocks, which meant loose, unpacked gunpowder was poured down the barrel from the front, followed by a round, then rammed homed with a plunger-like metal rod, the ram-rod, and a portion of powder, the priming charge was also dabbed on the firing pan on the side of the musket. A slow-match, an extent of rope specially designed to burn very slowly in little more than embers, was fastened to a lever known as the cock, just behind the pad and set alight before the fighting, or in Welikro's case, the hunting, began. When the musket was fired, the trigger was pulled, which released the cock and sent the embering end of the slow-match into the gunpowder on the firing pan, igniting it. The spark travelled down a small hole bored into the musket, igniting the compressed gunpowder in the breech. The charge ignited, burned, turned into gas -- some of which blew back out that same small hole in a puff of soot, smoke, and unburned gunpowder -- and shoved the ball out the front of the barrel, the muzzle, towards its target. The ram-rod would then be rammed down the barrel once more to extinguish any lingering sparks before the whole process began again. A trained musketeer could reload and fire little under twice a minute. Though reload speed didn't really matter to hunters; they got just one shot anyway.

"Dad's muskets are twice as big," Welikro began, "They can't shoot accurately any farther than this one, in fact, they're quite a bit less accurate, but they damned well will kill anything they hit. This musket will hurt or kill someone at greater ranges, no problem. But it won't necessarily take down a bull with one shot. And you only ever get one shot when your hunting. So Dad's perfectly fine to give up a little accuracy and range in return for a surefire kill when he hits.

"That's also why Dad had two muskets made. He'll load both before we go off hunting so he'll have a better chance at killing something if he only grazes it or misses and the thing comes charging at him. He'll load the one with a single round which will kill anything he hits, and the other he always loads with grape, a lot of small balls. If he misses, or only grazes a boar, let's say, and the thing comes charging at him, he can hit it with the grape shot from the second musket once its closer and make sure the thing goes down without it killing him.

"The big problem is that they're so heavy. He had slings put on them so he could carry them over his back, but he can't do that when they're loaded, the powder in the flash pads would fall off, so he has to carry them in his hands when he's stalking something and his arms are usually sore after just half an hour. He also has to use a fork to rest the barrel. They're too heavy to hold up on your own, even for Dad. Luckily they aren't being used in a war, they would do very bad there. They also use a lot more gunpowder than this one, so we only hunt big game with them. I can shoot ten times with this musket with the same gunpowder just three shots of Dad's new muskets use."

Claude inspected the musket carefully. The whole thing was almost one and a half metres long, made of cherry wood. The black, cast-iron barrel stuck thirty centimetres out beyond the shoe in which it sat and the muzzle flared ever so slightly. The musket's handle, which, unlike the modern muskets with which Claude was more familiar, was only a gentle curve down from the barrel, not the about 75 degree down angle of modern muskets. The barrel was held in place with a series of clamps that ran over it and around the shoe, clamping it down tightly onto, and into, its wooden shoe. Those same clamps had small holes in the girth beneath the shoe through which the ram-rod was stowed. The handle was framed on either side, covered by a thing copper plate which absorbed much of the shock of use and carry to keep the handle as intact as possible, through they're been worn through over the years.

Claude knew all about the gun's workings -- it had been a subject of study in school, after all, not that he could really pick out any of the parts of the gun and put any of the official names to them without some careful thought. He could never not recognise the trigger, however. Something was off about the way it fired, however.

"Why doesn't it have a sight?"

"What's a sight?' Welikro asked.

"Uhh..." Claude didn't have the first clue how to explain what a sight was or how it was used. His words fumbled as he tried to mime what it was for several seconds before Welikro's eyes lit up.

"Oh, you mean that?" Welikro asked as he pointed at two pips on the musket, one at the tip of the barrel, and the other just behind the cock. They're called firing points, though, not 'sights'," Welikro explained, tasting the unfamiliar use of the word in his mouth, "You aim by lining the pips up with one another and our target before we fire. When you're ready to fire and everything looks right, you close your eyes and pull the trigger."

"Wait, why do you close your eyes? Won't that make you less accurate?"

"If you don't you'll be blind after firing just one shot! You'll see how much smoke the powder in the firing pan makes when you shoot it for the first time, and the blowback out of the little hole that connects the pan to the breech blasts half its smoke into your face as well."

"How can you still hit your target if you do that though?"

"Training and a steady hand. You won't hit anything if your hands are shaking, even if you keep your eyes open. If you've trained enough you should be able to hit them nine times out of ten."

"You said the two fire points have to be lined up. So if your hand is stable, will the shot hit for sure? Will the shot hit the point that lines up directly with the two firing points?"

"No. The fire points are about the width of a finger above where the bullet goes, so you have to aim just a bit high if you're aiming at a particularly small target. And then there's the fact that the bullet doesn't always go where you want it, it sometimes wobbles of somewhere else, heaven only knows why, but it does that, quite a bit more often than any hunter would like. And there's always the chance the slow-match fizzle out rather than lights the powder and then you've got a misfire."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," Claude said, "Hey, Eyke, show me that short-barreled musket of yours."

Eriksson's father had bartered particularly good catch for his short-barreled musket. He always had it with him when he went sailing. The one his father used nowadays, however, was won at a celebration a few years back. It was also a short-barrel, but the handle was encrusted in cold pewter. He left his old one at home now and Eriksson had taken to using it himself.

"It can't shoot accurately as far as Wero's. It can do only about 50 metres if the game is big, but only 20 to 30 if it's something like a rabbit." Eriksson said as he handed it to Claude.

Welikro's matchlock could technically kill a man up to 280 metres, though no one expected to actually hit anything the size of a man at anything beyond 130 metres, even just occasionally.

The short-barreled musket, however, could hit a man at most 50 out, a deer maybe up to 60, but it would definitely only hit some part of the animal, not the part the musketeer actually aimed at. Its basic design, save the barrel, was the same as Welikro's musket.

"What do the gunpowder and the rounds look like?" Claude asked suddenly, "I heard Wakri say something about using egg-white powder on ships. How's it different from the normal powder his dad using when for hunting?"

The gunpowder had moved on since the days of the Gally Mark 3. It was no longer poured down the barrel from a canister like it used to in the days that gun was the mainstay of the army. Now it came in small, pre-packed paper parcels. The bullet was also wrapped to each parcel. Nowadays, one could just bite off the back end of the parcel to free the gunpowder and poured the whole lot, bullet, paper, and all, down the barrel. The paper itself was covered in a kind of oil that kept moisture out and the gunpowder, but it also meant that a simple spark from the priming powder wouldn't light the charge through the paper, so it had to be torn so the spark could get to the main charge directly. The bullet was wrapped in a soft piece of cork that fit snuggle against the walls of the barrel. Not enough to make ramming it in as difficult as it had been with muskets back on Earth, but snuggly enough that the bullet wouldn't just slide or roll out of the barrel if it was pointing downward.

"What's this for?" Claude asked as he pointed at the piece of cork.

"It keeps the bullet from just falling out if you point the barrel down." Welikro explained.

Claude prepared to tear the parcel, but Eriksson stopped him.

"Don't," the boy said, "You can check inside if we have any left when we go back. We can't ruin any shots before we've fired. We've only got fifteen."

Each round cost seven fennies, so fifteen was equal to a day of his father's income from his position in the local government.

"Does yours use the same?" Claude asked, looking at Welikro.

Welikro shook his head. "No. The gun wasn't designed to fire with anything other than the gunpowder and the balls in the barrel. It wouldn't fire right if we stuffed paper in there as well. Not to mention the pain of cleaning the soot the oiled powder leaves behind. His barrel is shorter and a little wider than mine, so he can clean it easily, but this one has a thinner, longer barrel, so it's a pain in the arse to clean, not to mention that because it's thinner, you'd have to clean it far more often."

Claude scratched his head. Where were his big cannons going to be? Protagonists from the future were supposed to quickly introduce guns and cannons and sweep over the continents, conquering all the kingdoms and unions in their way. But he felt like he was not going to be able to do anything of the sort.

Welikro took out a few rectangular pieces of leather.

"Alright, let's go. It's getting late. We should go set up before the animals start coming to drink. Take two of these and wrap them around your calf. Don't leave any seams."

"Why? Aren't we already wearing long pants and leather boots?"

"Snakes. It should keep their teeth out of you," Welikro said venomously.

"Can't... can't we just use a torch and poke it into the grass or something?"

"Hah..." Welikro was almost laughing. "How do you expect anything to come anywhere near us if we burn the place we're hiding? We'll stand out even more than if we stood around yelling all night!"

Everyone quickly tied the leather to their legs.

"Alright, let's go. Claude and Boa will take the middle and Eyke will take the rear. Since Boa already has his arbalest, use my hunting bow, Claude. I saw you shoot pretty well in archery class, so you should be fine.

"And, make sure to keep quiet. I'll pick a hiding spot. I don't want to hear you chattering. You'll chase our prey away."

Chapter 31 - Night Hunt

The four stalked across the forest.

"Wero, I remember reading in the history books that firearms have been around for several hundred years, why are we still using matchlocks?" Claude suddenly broke the silence as something occurred to him.

Guns developed much further much faster back on Earth. It took just three hundred years for the world to go from the first proper matchlocks to automatic, breech-loaded weapons. And if the stories he'd heard in his final years there were to be believed, they were only a few decades away from energy and magnetic weapons. Things were not going apace here. Six hundred years had passed since the first matchlock was first fired, and they were still being used in essentially the same form. Not even the continent's near constant state of war did anything to speed that up.

"What else would we use?" Borkal snipped, "Matchlocks are much better than anything else we have."

"That's not what I meant, idiot," Claude snapped back, "Muskets don't seem to have changed much since they were first introduced, despite several hundred years having passed. I'm sure there are many ways to make them work better, more reliably, and fire faster."

"It's not like no one's been trying. I heard the kingdom has a whole research team dedicated to finding out ways to improve muskets. The new Aubass Mark 2 is much better than this," Welikro shook his gun twice, "It can kill a man about another half a time as far as this can. I've even heard they've started using a special kind of knife you jam into the barrel once the enemy gets to close, turning the gun into a spear. It's a nightmare to get it back out again, but I doubt you'll have a chance to shoot again before the fight's over if it comes to hand-to-hand combat."

That's not it... What's the point of increasing the range if you can't hit anything that far?

"Slow-match isn't very reliable is it? You said yourself that it snuffs out sometimes when you fire the gun, and I'm sure it just goes out on its own sometimes as well. I'm sure there are better ways of lighting the powder."

"I know," Welikro admitted, "Dad is always complaining about the slow-match. The kingdom has four armouries, ours is the smallest. Together they can make several tens of thousands of muskets a year. Quite a few of them go to that team the king has looking into making the muskets better.

"Dad was a guard at that team's facility for two years. He says they're all mad. He's seen what they call 'flintlocks' and 'breechloaders', but none of them can compare to even the oldest matchlocks.

"Dad was very happy when he left. He saw 17 people crippled when the guns exploded in their hands. Dad was even willing to go to the frontlines to get away from that place, but the war ended before his request was processed. In the end he was made part of the cleanup crews but he says he doesn't regret it at all."

So they're at least looking into improving the guns. But flintlocks and breechloaders are so clearly and substantially better than matchlocks, so how on earth did they screw up the designs so badly that they performed even worse than matchlocks? How useless are they?! Maybe they really are insane.

"Isn't anyone else tinkering with firearms at all?"

Much of the development of firearms came not from the army back on earth, but from hobbyist tinkerers and inventors, many of them hunters who wanted to make their guns better for their purposes.

"I don't doubt there are. Dad has tinkered with his guns a lot as well, he designed his two guns, after all. But no one can just make their own guns, anything new they come up with belongs to the research team by royal decree."

So they were even preventing people from making and developing their own guns? Sure, it kept unwanted people from getting their hands on guns, but it was clearly also stopping so much innovation! And why was the research team so focused on increasing the range? It meant nothing without a corresponding increase in accuracy. And rate of fire was far more important for situations where firearms were used en masse, such as in wars.

Claude kept his doubts to himself, however. He didn't want to attract too much attention, after all. One of the main reasons development was probably going so low, if it was happening at all, was because physics had not emerged as a field of study yet, and without that understanding of how things worked, any research was basically blindly grabbing at straws.

Welikro suddenly waved his hand from the front. Claude trained his ears, and heard the soft bubble of the stream.

"Alright, go hide there," Welikro said as he pointed at a pile of rocks, "You see that huge one? Behind it. It'll hide us from the stream but give us a good view and a clean shot on both banks. It should also be downwind of the stream."

It was a decent spot, Claude reflected, the rocks stood just a few metres from the stream, and would no doubt find itself in the streams more often than not during good downpours, so snakes shouldn't be a big problem. The three huddled behind it as Welikro scampered up the biggest rock to gaze at the stream.

Eriksson's short-barreled musket wouldn't be of much use. No animal was going to drink close enough to them for his gun to hit them reliably. Instead, it would be their backup gun like Welikro's father's second musket.

Borkal's arbalest and Claude's hunting bow had their uses, at least. But the two had never practised at night. At best they might be able to punt a bolt or arrow in the prey's general direction and hope it hit home. Welikro was the only one who stood a half-decent chance of hitting something, anything, edible.

The breeze blew freshly up from the lake and the moonlight slowly took over from the sun. It filtered down through the trees in long needles and danced rhythmically on the stream's bubbling water.

The tallest trees shrugged ever so slightly with the breeze, leaves rustling playfully in slow waves as the sounds of the night slowly descended from the hilltops towards the lake to meet the breeze.

Borkal lowered his head further at a howl from somewhere upstream, and huddled closer to Claude, eyes fixed in the direction of the sound. Claude suddenly realised he was shivering when he felt the cold rock slap into the hollow of his back.

"Don't be afraid. It's all normal," he said as much for his benefit as for Borkal's.

He knew, probably better than most, thanks to the various documentary programmes he watched, what tended to make the sounds he heard. Once he reminded himself what it sounded like when a leopard or panther hunted something, and how much this sounded calmer than then, he calmed down.

"Aren't you afraid?" Eriksson asked, suddenly turning to Claude.

"Afraid of what? Most of this is all just in your head. Haven't you ever wondered why all those terrible monsters you're so sure must be in those woods, never come out and get you? They certainly know where we are with how your teeth chatter--"

"--Shut up!" Welikro barked quietly, "What did I tell you about talking? You've probably scared off everything within three hundred metres of us now!"

The three shut their mouths obediently.

Claude was on the brink of dozing off when Welikro's foot suddenly tapped his head.

"Shhh!" was all he heard.

Claude lifted his head and looked up at the boy. He motioned for him to take a look soundlessly.

He heard a series of splashes as his head popped up from behind the rock. He only noted the movement in the leaves, but couldn't make out any figures.

Welikro sighed slightly and slid down the rock, yanking Claude down with him.

"What's wrong?" Claude whispered his question.

Welikro shook his head.

"Won't work. They're wild boars. Nothing we have will take them down. We'll just make them angry and get ourselves in trouble."

"It's fine. Boars are some of the most cautious animals, so if they come to drink, you can bet other animals will come drink as well. It's just a matter of waiting for them."

Claude turned to his two companions, to find them fast asleep, lying on top of one another.

It didn't take long for a group of eight animals to show up.

"What are those?"

"Deer. We're pretty lucky," Welikro smiled.

Welikro slowly and gently snapped the cock back and lit the slow-match. He pressed the tip firmly between the two prongs of the cock, smouldering tip aimed at the flash pan.

Time slowed as Claude stared down the barrel, his head pressed right next to Welikro's, who held the gun. The striking of the match to light the slow-match must have alerted the deer that something was going on. They'd all stopped dead and were staring in his direction.

Claude heard a click, followed by the sound of metal striking metal as the cock hit home and drove the embering tip of the slow-match into the powder in the flash pan. The powder hissed to life and a puffed smoke in all directions for half a moment, then smoke blasted out of almost nowhere over the pan as the powder in the barrel lit. Another fraction of a moment later the hissing was drowned out by a sloppy bang and a second, brighter flash from the muzzle blinded Claude. He heard something thud and splat before his sight recovered. When it did, he saw one deer twitching on the ground, the tip of its rear hooves splashing at the edge of the stream.

Borkal and Eriksson jumped up.

"Thunder?!" one shouted -- Claude couldn't be sure who.

Welikro slid down from the rock happily.

"Got it. Good hit, too. Went straight down. Light the lamp. Let's go take a look."

Claude took his first breath after the shot went off, and smelt sulphur and soot.

The deer was about the size of a goat and it had just two small studs for antlers. It was at most a juvenile, Claude concluded, no more than nine months old.

Welikro had indeed scored a good hit. The shot had gone straight through the base of the deer's head, and its skull dangled loosely by its throat, it's spine completely disintegrated.

"Put the lamp down. Keep a close watch on our surroundings. The blood is bound to attract unwanted attention. We'll skin it here and bleed out the worst of the blood so we don't leave a trail right back to our camp."

Welikro was already on his knees, knife in hand, by the time his words finished.

Chapter 32 - Night Duty

Claude would never forget that night. The entire world froze the moment Welikro's gun fired. The only thing he could hear was the rapidly fading echo of the shot as it bounced off the mountain, and the thud and splashing of the dead dear as it twitched away its last breaths of life.

The two sleepyheads had finally regained their calm, so the three headed to the deer with their lamps. Welikro reloaded as they walked, his trained hands moving effortlessly. He handed the gun to Claude once he was done, letting the three keep watch while he went to work on the deer.

"We can't drag it back," he said again as he worked. "The blood'll draw unwelcome guests."

His hands flitted like there was no resistance in the carcass as he separated the skin from the rest of the carcass.

"Best to process the thing right there, quickly of course, and get the hell out of here before the blood attracts prey animals. And it's even necessary if you're far away from your camp. Dead things have this nasty habit of going stiff an hour or so after they die, which makes it a damn nightmare to cut them up. Best to have them cut up before then."

The moonlight danced on their faces, reflected off the cobbling water. Their lamps glared out into the underbrush. The three stood in utter silence, each straining his ear and eye as hard as he could to hear or, possibly, see anything unwelcome coming to take a look. If the moonlight danced silver on their faces from upstream, it danced crimson downstream as the water drew a red scar down the slope towards the lagoon.

Welikro freed the last of the deer's limbs half an hour later, and about an hour later he was done portioning the whole thing into more manageable chunks. He tossed the hooves, tail and innards into the stream and watched until everything disappeared around the bend. He strolled a few metres upstream and rinsed the skin in the stream, followed by the meat. He tied the meat up with cleaned and skinned vines and handed each boy a limb, Claude got the two hind legs, while he took the head and neck.

"Alright, back we go."

Claude rinsed their pot and fixed it on the by-now coals while the other boys started a second fire for light. He put about a thumb of water in the pot and cut up one of the legs into manageable pieces while the water came to a boil. Once the water was boiling away happily he filled it back up to a thumb and added enough meat for the four of them, added a few pinches of spices, stirred until he was satisfied everything was covered, and closed the pot. He cut some of the rest of the leg into strips and fixed them over the new fire before adding wet bark to begin smoking them. He planned to hide away a good portion of the jerky to take home. This was the group's first catch (really it was Welikro's, but details were unimportant), so why not show off some of the meat to the family and brag a little?

Welikro went to work on the underbrush and soon returned with several sticks which he fashioned into a rack on which he hung the skin. He took out yet another knife -- heaven only knew where he kept all of them -- and started running the blade up and down the bottom side of the skin like a razor as he cleaned it of blood vessels and any meat me might have missed. Once he was satisfied with his cleaning, he broke some charcoal off the ring of half-burnt stumps they'd placed around the camp, crushed them under the handle of a knife on a nearby rock, and applied the coarse coal powder to the underside of the skin.

Borkal and Eriksson stared at him as he worked.

"That was damn accurate!" Eriksson half-shouted as he pointed at the torn head-end of the skin, which Welikro had yet to trim away, "I bet you can sell it for a whole thale!"

"--Not all," Borkal's voice pushed in, "It's a deer pelt, it's not easy to get one. They're the most cautious animals; they'll run at the drop of a leaf. I didn't think we'd get one, and on our first night, too! It would be a waste to sell it to leather shops, we'll get an even better price with the tailors. I bet we could run the price up to a full thale and five riyas."

"Why don't we camp by the stream tomorrow night as well? We might get another deer," Eriksson suggested, his eyes glowing.

"I doubt we'll see any deer by that part of the stream again for a while. You just said deer are very cautious. They also have good memories."

The meat was soon done. Everyone got a few chunks along with a little of the fat that cooked off for a slice of bread, which they finished in a couple of gulps, then went to bed. Welikro felt decided to keep watch with Claude so the two town bumpkins could get some sleep. They'd switch with the two at midnight, and they could keep an eye on things 'till morning.

He moved the pelt closer to the fire to help it dry a bit faster. Once he was sure the other two were asleep, he cut a couple of chunks off what was left of the leg and impaled them on a few sticks around the fire to roast.

He finally noticed the strips of meat Claude had hung over the fire and pointed at the salted chunks still laying on the trunk nearby.

"Want to hang those up as well?"

"No, it's fine. We'll make cutlet with them in the morning. Didn't we bring a pan and some butter? It won't spoil overnight, right?" Claude returned.

"Nope, they'll be fine. It's not that hot, and it's still cooling down."

"Are we really going to the ruins tomorrow?" Claude asked, plomping himself down next to the other boy, facing the fire and the sizzling pieces of impaled meat.

"What's wrong? Scared?"

"No. I just can't believe the ruins are really as big as you say. I can't imagine how the magi got the stones up to the full height of the building if they're really as big as that one we saw earlier."

"You'll get used to it. I couldn't believe it either the first time I saw it. It's all just one big heap of rubble now, no one really knows how big it was when it still stood, it's all just rumour and guess."

Welikro pulled one of the smaller impaled chunks out of the ground, blew on it a few times, and took a bite. He swallowed delightlessly, then shoved the stick back into the ground, other side firewards, then flipped all the other meat around as well.

"Has anyone figured out if it had a basement? I heard all those kinds of places are supposed to have basements."

"Who knows?" Welikro pondered, "I know of three entrances that head down at least a level. I've not gone down any though. Dad's been down there, I heard. He says the floor's buried under a foot of mud."

Three entrances? Did they go all the way down to the level of which the diary spoke?

Claude had to see it for himself. The magus' stuff was supposed to be near one of the flights of stairs, so if he checked all three, he should be able to find it, right? Then again, he did have to search for the stuff under a foot of mud...

"What's up? Think of something?" Welikro asked, glaring interestedly at Claude's dazed face.

"It's nothing," Claude whispered, not taking his eyes off the fire, "I was just wondering why the magi built those towers, and why build one on Egret? And I always wondered why all the books that talk about them say they're evil, but never say why. D'you know?"

"No. I never liked reading, and I like reading or hearing about history even less than all the other stuff. All the listening I want to do is to my dad's stories when he teaches me how to hunt and live in the wild. Why care about that stuff, anyway? The magi are gone, they're never coming back, so it's all useless stuff."

"I guess you're right. Best we not poke our noses into this kind of stuff. We're small fry, even if the magi came back it would have nothing to do with us."

The forest was only now slowly beginning to recover from that shot. Noises slowly came back around the curve of the island. A howl sounded not too far away and Welikro's hand shot to Claude's mouth. The tense moment lasted only a few seconds, then he relaxed and lowered his hand again.

"Nothing to worry about. Was just a lynx call. The innards I threw in the stream must have gotten stuck somewhere and it found it. It's probably fighting over it. Luckily they're pretty small and don't usually attack humans."

Luckily for Claude's nerves, that was the only moment of excitement for the rest of their shift. They ended up sitting and chatting through most of the night, not just until midnight. They only got up once the jerky was done. The two woke their sleepy companions up and switched place with them.

Their trip was off to a great start. They got a deer, he made some jerky, and they would be heading to the ruins in a few more hours. He tossed for at least an hour before he finally fell asleep. Welikro had been snoring for at least two thirds of the time he'd been laying in his tent by the time he finally drifted away.

He came to when the sun was already a good arm above the horizon. A light gust of wind blew the flap over the entrance up and he caught a glimpse of his three friends sitting around the fire, their tent already packed up.

"What time is it?" he asked as he stepped out of the tent, stretching.

"Almost nine," Borkal answered.

He saw an hourglass by the boy's side. Despite its name, the glass kept six hours. It was rather inaccurate, but it could be adjusted easily enough by only flipping it at sunrise and keeping a mind to flip it on time throughout the day, then let it run out through the night and flipping it again the next morning.

"Why didn't you wake me up? We've wasted precious daylight," Claude complained.

"Wero said you were up all night smoking jerky, so we let you sleep in a little. Now that you're up though--" Eriksson pointed at the pot, "make us some breakfast."

"You're a real glutton, you know that?" Claude jabbed humourously.

There had been some leftovers in the pot last night, a single extra piece of meat and a few drops of the sauce, but that was gone when he opened the pot.

"You've already had a serving for breakfast but you still complain… You really are a glutton…" he whispered under his breath as he washed out the pot.

The fire had been kept going dutifully, so he only had to scrape a few coals to the side to prepare the cooking place. He plopped the oversized pan, clearly not designed for camping, on the coals and dropped a clump of butter into it. The butter melted over several minutes, slowly at first, but with increasing speed as the thick cast-iron base heated up. Once it was all melted and just starting to sizzle, Claude plopped the cutlets in and fried them until ready.

Breakfast vanished down the four black holes just as quickly as dinner and the remaining tent was packed up just as quickly. They put what they'd need for the day's trip in their rucksacks, stowed everything else on the boat, and headed off. They'd be at the ruins at noon, according to Welikro. There they would split into groups. Those that wanted to explore the ruins could do so, while the rest would hunt again, then camp by the ruins that night.

They climbed the hill along what was left of the magi-built path. Claude had to admit Welikro had been telling the truth. He saw large stone after large stone. Indeed, only magi could have built that road. The stones by the shore were completely hidden under mud and underbrush. The first stone only peaked out about a quarter of the way up the hill. By about two thirds of the way up, however, they all lay bare on the surface, showing the way to the top in eternal majesty.

Borkal and Eriksson didn't notice the stones the first half-way up, but once they did, they were utterly captivated. The stone also jogged their memories about their childhood tales of the horrible magi, which they shared with exaggerated enthusiasm to try and scare one another. Eriksson had apparently heard the most, he definitely had the most interesting stories. How much of them were actual rumours about Egret, and how much came from his own rampant imagination, Claude didn't want to bet, however. Since most of the stories he had heard from others also came from sailors, Claude didn't put much stock in those either. A sailor's tale was indeed a sailor's tale no matter which world's sailors told it.

Welikro must have gone deaf, since he didn't react to any of their stories. Claude supposed he must be fighting not to laugh at the ridiculous shit with which the two were coming up. He and his father had been at the ruins a few times, his father several dozen times, and they'd even spent quite a good stretch of time there continuously once, and none of the tales, not even the most moderate ones, seemed to strike true for him.

"We're here," Welikro said two hours later just as they turned a corner.

Chapter 33 - Ruins

Claude had heard Welikro describe the tower the day before, but his description, and Claude's imagination, had failed them both. The thing was colossal. It was certainly the largest single building Claude had seen since coming to this world, and knowing what it was made of, and the technology that had not been involved in its construction, Claude gawked at its sheer size.

"It's a castle!" Borkal half shouted, his mouth not closing after he finished speaking.

"No. It has to be even bigger than Restoration Plaza," Eriksson gawked.

Indeed, the plaza built on the sight were Stellin IX had been shot at, where the first true shot of the civil war had been fired, could not compare to this tower. Until just now, it had been the largest man-made structure they'd ever seen, now however…

Granted, this isn't exactly 'man-made' in the same sense as the plaza, but still...

Welikro walked along the walls, knocking on the stones with his stick as he did.

"Come look. I was right, yes? They're exactly the same as the roads'," he said, pointing at a particularly large boulder stood up between several smaller ones.

"Yes," Claude breathed.

The stones were half-hidden under vines, and trees had broken through between them in places, but their size could not be hidden. The roads' stones were jagged, like they'd been built in a hurry, or without attention paid to craftsmanship. These stones, however, were immaculately sanded, smooth all the way through, even in the inner bits exposed by cracks.

The tallest portions of the walls that still stood, stood two metres tall. The lowest of them, only one boulder above-ground, was still a metre tall. Small, white crystals formed on the tops of rocks, and were particularly dense and large on the ragged edges of cracks.

"Salt carried in from the sea," Welikro explained as he broke of a particularly large crystal, "You can eat it, but it's got a bitter aftertaste and most people get stomach-aches when they eat it."

The floor, or what could be seen of it, wasn't flat. About a third was hidden under rubble, and another third had half collapsed to the basement beneath.

"Why did the tower collapse? These walls are so thick, and they're made of such big boulders, how could it have collapsed? It's only been abandoned for a couple hundred years. I doubt even the strongest storm we've ever had could have blown it over," Borkal said, patting a boulder twice his height as he gazed up at its peak.

Eriksson stroked his chin as he stared at the wall.

"You're right, no storm could have knocked it down. A tidal wave might've, but it's too high above sea level, and too far away from the open sea for a tidal wave to get it. And any wave that did, would have wiped Whitestag clean off the map as well.

"The only other threat might be an earthquake, but we don't have any records of even a single earthquake in the thousand years since Whitestag was built. Dad said there's another ruin on Baryama, it looks about the same as this one, so something had to have struck both to take them down in such similar fashions."

"Hey, stop conjecting and help me set up! Besides, Dad told me the towers were blown up."

"How would he know?" Borkal retorted, "The tower's been down for at least two hundred years. So how would he know? Besides, an explosion big enough to destroy the tower would have been heard in town, and I've not heard anyone talking about something like that happening in the past, have you? Not to mention at least some of the fishers would have seen the people unloading that much gunpowder to set things up. I've not heard anything about something like that, either."

Welikro's dad was most likely right, though, Claude thought, the diary did talk about a very powerful gunpowder, and if the diary was right, it had already been used to blow up one such tower. So why couldn't it have been used to blow up the rest as well?

Welikro shrugged.

"I don't know, either. I asked him and he just knocked me on the head and called me an idiot. He says the traces of gunpowder are still there, if you know where and what to look for.

"My dad used to be a guard for the firearms research team the king set up. He's seen his fair share of explosions, and he's had to clean up his fair share of explosion wreckage afterwards, too. I trust him to know what he's talking about when it comes to explosions and gunpowder residue. Besides, you have no idea how powerful a couple dozen barrels of gunpowder exploding can be."

"Enough, weren't you the one telling them to not slack off just a few moments ago?" Claude snapped, slapping Welikro across his buttocks with his rattan like stick, "Are we camping here tonight?" he asked, smiling at Welikro's discomfort as he rubbed his arse, staring furiously at Claude.

"Uhh... No." Welikro said, continuing to rub his sore behind, "We still have a little bit to go. We'll camp where Dad and I camped last time we were here. It gets pretty cold up here once the wind picks up after sunset. You'll be happy for the walls."

Borkal and Eriksson picked up their shares of the luggage and the group continued to the designated spot in the ruin.

Claude had to admit Welikro's dad knew how to pick camping sites. Their current spot was by the seaside edge of the ruin where the walls stood just over two metres tall, and pretty solidly, too. The lines or rubble and boulders seemed to indicate the room had been about 20 square metres when the whole thing had still been standing. The floor was intact, and actually still smooth, somehow largely untouched by centuries of weather.

A stack of firewood about a metre tall hid in the best-covered corner of the room. Apparently it was leftovers from Welikro's last camping trip here with his father. He took a stump from the pile and thumped it against the wall, smiling with satisfaction at the clear, dry, unrotted thunk the wood made.

"Looks like we don't need to go get firewood again," he said, throwing the stump back on the pile, "Alright, let's set everything up quickly."

No one else had a reason to complain, the spot was even better than the previous night's. They cut down a few bushes and did a rough sweep-job.

"Pitch the tents here?" Borkal asked from one corner of the room.

"Yes. We pitched ours there last time, too. Don't do it like last night, though. We'll set up the big tent and take out the dividers. It should be big enough for all of us then."

"Then why did I have to set the other one up last night? Hell, why'd I even have to go through the trouble of convincing my dad to let me bring it?"

"I thought you guys would have trouble sleeping if we all had to huddle together with you guys shivering in fear, so I had you bring a small tent so I could sleep there," Welikro admitted, scratching his head awkwardly.

Eriksson's mouth twitched.

"Shiver in fear, is it? When the walls around us are two metres tall? Shiver in fear indeed!"

"We can still set up your tent on the pile of wood. We only need to put up one side to screen the wind then you can keep watch over the walls," Welikro said in a guilty voice.

The three sighed at him exaggeratedly, but still did as he suggested.

Welikro took a few long sticks from the ground beside the pile.

"Good, they're still here. They're nice and try, too, so they'll be tough. Here. Use them to pitch the tents."

Welikro's tent was simple to set up. They tied ropes to the four corners of the sheet and ran each end over a different wall before fixing it to a rock at their outside bases. The sheet flew up and formed a roof that covered most of the room. A couple of sticks were tied to the corners with the rope as well to keep the sheet from drooping too much.

Welikro gave each stick a good thwack to make sure it was firmly in place, and nodded each time it didn't budge.

"You said your father camped here last time, right? In the middle of winter? Wouldn't this collapse under the snow?"

"Yeah. It collapsed in the middle of the night the first time we were here. We only tied it to one wall when we were here last time so the snow could roll off the side. We won't get snow now, I hope," Welikro smiled devilishly, "So this setup should be fine. We're leaving tomorrow anyway."

"Where's the water?" Claude asked, already thinking about getting to work on lunch.

Welikro pointed down one side of the hill.

"About 50 metres that way. The stream's spring is there. The water's clean and hot. You can clean yourself there and get the water you need for cooking and drinking as well. It's even got a nice taste!"

The three went to get water while Claude started the fire.

The four finished lunch about an hour and a half later and started planning the hunt.

"You guys can go hunt. I want to explore the ruins some."

Claude had considered going with them for an hour or so before coming back, but he couldn't contain himself any longer. He'd barely been able to keep himself from shoving their lunch down everyone's throats as so they could finish faster and get out of his way. He didn't care at this point whether he found it in anything of a useable shape, if it was still there at all, he just wanted to find out. He could deal with disappointment, but this waiting was killing him.

"Really?" The three asked at the same time.

They had little interest in exploring the ruins, nor did they particularly care about Claude's desire either. They were quite insistent on dragging him along, but his feet were dug into the basement through the floor; he was not budging.

"Fine," Welikro finally caved when Claude promised to make them an even better dinner than the previous night, "Let's go. Eyke, leave your musket with Claude just in case. We should be able to hear a shot from where we'll be going."

Chapter 34 - Discovery

Borkal and Eriksson had no problem hunting alone with Welikro. For them, that was the entire point of this trip.

Welikro had said that, because of all the scary rumours surrounding Egret, not many people were willing to come here so most of its resources were as yet untapped. That they caught a deer on their first night strongly supported his claim. It usually took several weeks, even a month or more, to track down a herd of deer. It wasn't as easy as sitting near the stream to wait for one to take a drink nearby.

The three dreamt of making it big. They couldn't wait to get going. Claude even wondered if they'd be back before sunrise the next morning.

He waved them goodbye and stared at them until they were several minutes gone before turning to the ruins. He couldn't wait to go inside, but he forced himself to calm down and take a thorough look at its outside first.

His caution was at least partially due to all the terrible mishaps that befell incautious protagonists in the various folktales of his old world. An early fortune was all too often accompanied by an early grave.

Even the things Magus Landes left behind weren't treasures by any means. There was no reason to rush in and maybe, just maybe, actually get killed.

He spent the first hour strolling around the ruin, but he didn't notice anything untoward, besides a few dangerously unstable sections. He didn't even notice any insects, the only animal sounds he could hear were the seagulls cawing away above the shore.

He heard a sudden, distant musket shot.

He tried to make a torch from dry pine branches and an old hemp rope. He poured a bit of oil on it, waited a few minutes for it to soak into the rope, then lit it. The oil sprang to smokey life, spewing dirty black smoke in a moderate trail into the sky as the flame danced around the torch's tip.

He'd found what looked like the three entrances Welikro had mentioned. The diary said Landes had lived in the small room near the stone steps. Someone who lived in the basement couldn't have a very exalted status.

No noble would live underground, that was certain. Servants, criminals, and slaves were relegated there. Top servants like the master of the house or the chief chef wouldn't live there either.

That said, the entrance by which Landes had hid his things would definitely not be the one nearest the main entrance, so he could rule that one out. It had to be one of the other entrances. The living quarters were most likely to be nearest the cliff so windows could be cut in for ventilation and illumination. Only actual criminals would be put underground without any view to the outside world.

Unfortunately for him, he couldn't just lean over the cliff's edge to see the windows. The cliff had a considerable overhang, and it dropped right into the sea below. Besides, it was most likely any windows there had been were completely overgrown.

It wasn't such a big problem to check two entrances. Landes' personal belongings were supposed to be basically right by the stairs, so if he didn't find the loose tile near the stairs, he would know it was empty and could abandon the search.

He fashioned six more torches, and headed for the first entrance. He came to the bottom of the dark stairs, and stood frozen for a moment as he stared at the alien basement. It felt nothing like an underground room. For one thing, it wasn't very cramped. The roof was six metres above the floor. The steps weren't normal, either. Steps usually hugged the wall of the room to save as much space as possible, but these just went straight down into the cavern and the light from his torch failed to touch the chamber's walls. One thing that didn't disappoint his expectations, was the stench of sewer.

Welikro had said there was nothing but mud down here. The stench was probably from the rot in the soil that had accumulated here and the lack of proper ventilation to blow the stench away. He was cautious of methane so he tossed a lit torch down the stairs, but nothing happened. Indeed, the torch didn't even go out, so if there was mud, it was at least dry.

He gave his equipment one last check, his dagger, knife, grappling hook, and his mountaineering boots. And he had his matchlock with him as well. He even had a rope ladder. He didn't want to assume the stairs were still intact and then be cut off from his destination because the stairs hadn't held. On top of that, if he followed the stairs down, he'd have to backtrack on the floor below to the spot where Landes' diary said he'd hid his stuff. If he just went over the side using the ladder, he could drop almost directly above the stuff.

He threw one end of the ladder over the side, and let it schlop down into the mud below. Once down in the mud, he raised his torch again. The light vanished into the abyss, neither wall nor furniture could be seen. The mud sucked and clung onto his legs. It was deeper than just two feet, and he'd have to dig it all out of the way to get to the loose tile.

There was no getting around it, so he might as well get to it. He jabbed one of his torches into the mud -- making sure it would stand up and lit it. Once he was at about where he believed the tile ought to be, he plunged two more torches into the mud a bit apart and lit them to give him enough light.

The mud stunk, goodness it stunk! And it got even worse the closer you got to the mud itself. He didn't want to think about how bad it would be once he started digging it up. But he had no choice, so he plunged his small shovel into the mud, holding his breath, and heaved.

About twenty minutes later he stood back up, wiping the worst of the mud from his hands and arms, and looked at his handiwork. Most of the back of the steps were now clear of the worst of the mud, though he could already see it was beginning to creep back in.

Landes wasn't lying after all. He could see a particularly large seam around one tile, it was also slightly uneven with the rest of the floor, and when he tapped it with his shovel, it rang hollow.

He cleaned the mud more thoroughly around the tile, the lifted it by one corner. It didn't budge at first, but then, with a wet, sloppy sucking sound, it came loose. A little mud had seeped in through the seam, but the box inside was largely untouched. It was a small, white jade box about thirty centimetres long, equally as wide, and ten centimetres tall. It, too, would not budge at first, but then, with some more prying, the same wet, sloppy sucking sound burst forth and it came loose, chunks of mud falling off its bottom as it did.

It had heaved quite suddenly and left Claude sitting on his bum, just barely not shoved into the wall of mud behind him, holding the white box on his lap. He stared at it now. He was just about to look for a way to open it, when he heard a low growl. He looked up, and almost right in front of his face two rows of razor sharp, dirty, off-white teeth were screaming towards him.

Chapter 35 - Dancing with a Python

Claude gripped his musket in a panic and hammered the trigger the moment the tip of its barrel was pointed in roughly the right direction. The cock snapped down but nothing happened. F*ck! He'd never lit the match before coming down!

But the gaping mouth vanished as his other hand pulled a nearby torch in front of him. His gaze steadied and he saw a large, long, black, tubular shape slither around in front of him. Brown mud blotches dotted its skin and one end rose to a large head where a forked tongue slapped the air.

F*cking hell... he knew treasure hunts never went well! His legs shivered uncontrollably, very nearly giving way under him entirely. He hated snakes the most of all the world's damned creatures. Snake meat was nice, and they apparently had certain… boosting properties, but those snakes were usually long dead! This thing was still alive and kicking, after a way of speaking!

Calm down… He had to stay calm. He couldn't let his fear overwhelm him if he had the slightest inclination to live through this. He wasn't dead yet, so he still had a chance. If he could keep the snake at bay for long enough to light the slow-match and fix it to the cock, he might yet make it out of this alive. He was a world away from being a crack shot, but he couldn't miss at this distance, especially not if he waited until the thing lunged at him.

His breathing was ragged more than heavy, and cold sweat drenched his clothes, but he felt neither. His eyes were soldered to the snake. His hands moved slowly, one to the slow-match fastened to the cock, the other brought his torch to the musket dangling in front of him.

His eyes had picked the snake out completely by now. It was as thick as a soup bowl and it was at least three metres long, though he couldn't be certain. It's mouth had a row of needle-like teeth on each jaw and two, glass-like translucent fangs that dripped with either saliva or venom, Leguna didn't know which. And he didn't know which he'd prefer. He definitely was not looking forward to being crushed in a vice if it was a constrictor, but he didn't much fancy the idea of dying slowly and excruciatingly painfully if it was venomous. And if it was the latter, he also didn't know what kind of venom it had. It might be a neurotoxin, in which case he'd hopefully die pretty quickly, or it might be a blood-clotting poison, in which case his death would be equally quickly, but far more painful. If it was a paralyzing poison, he would have to live through being eaten alive before finally dying of asphyxiation inside the snake. But worst of all, at least in his mind, would be for it to be a flesh-decomposing poison, the kind that slowly rotted away his flesh, turning it into mush.

All that said, now that he considered that the snake was only three metres long, he might actually prefer for it to be a constrictor. It would not be nice, and he would certainly break a few bones if it got a good grip on him, but it ought to be too short to get the kind of grip, and be able to exert the kind of power, that might kill him.

The two slowly closed in, then the slow match spluttered momentarily and glowed. His delight drew his eyes from the snake for a moment to gaze at the match and make sure it was indeed alight.

The shadow pounced in that instant.

The snake's entire length emerged from the mud and shot at him like an arrow.

Shit! Claude swung his torch at the snake to try and block it or knock it away. The snake couldn't avoid the torch, its entire length was already in the air, and slammed, mouth first, into it.

A shockwave shuddered through Claude's body and his arm buckled under the force, his torch sent flying. A pungent smell assaulted his nostrils as he felt a squelching mass coil itself around his waist, ascending towards his chest. He felt his body squash as a massive force pressed in on him wherever that slimed length touched his body. His knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground.

He had enough time to take a single breath before the snake attacked again. Luckily, his hands were still free and his right one clutched the gun furiously. He tried gripping the snake's body with his left hand, but it was more slippery than wet eel. He gave up quickly and instead reached for his knife, fastened to his belt, but the snake was crushing down on him so much that the blade was stuck in its sheath. The black head raised and that mouth opened again. He stared at the face for what seemed like a frozen eternity, then the mouth came down on his face.

Claude's instincts took over again and the gun came up much as the torch had. The snake again didn't flinch. He came at the gun down the barrel, however, and half of the barrel disappeared down its throat. It's mouth closed instinctively and it buried its fangs in the wooden shoe.

Claude immediately pulled back his index finger. The cock slammed down on the pad in a dead thud again, however. The slow-match hadn't taken properly and had gone out as he swung the gun in front of him.

Damnit! Why did he have to have such bad luck? The python writhed around the gun, jerking its head back and forth as it tried to dislodge its fangs. Claude clung onto the butt of the gun for all he was worth. He winced, however, as the snake's body tightened around him more and more as it writhed. He felt his innards being pressed against his diaphragm, which, in turn, crushed his lungs from below. His breaths were becoming progressively shallow and shallow and he felt another kind of darkness beginning to claw at the edges of his vision.

His sluggish eyes finally noticed the two torches still burning happily in the mud not far away. He gathered the last of his energy and hurled himself at them.

He landed between the two and his left hand clutched frantically in empty air and slimy mud for a few moments before it finally got hold of the torch. His right hand was only a few more tugs away from losing its grip on the gun's butt.

He didn't even think about slamming the burning end of the torch into the snake's body to chase it off, or at least make it let go of him. His mind, on the brink of complete shutdown, was locked, fixated, on getting the gun to fire. He couldn't light the slow-match, since the cock wasn't cocked anymore, so instead he slammed the torch into the cover plate, lifting it out of the way in the process, and lighting the priming charge underneath it.

BANG!

The shot rang in the basement. The shockwave hit his ears and they rang. The shockwave struck the walls somewhere in the darkness and slammed into him a second time, then a third, then a forth. His ears rung and blood dripped out of one. The python fared much worse, however.

It exploded. Its throat disintegrated, it simply vanished and the rest of its body writhed for a few moments before it fell off him and writhed on the ground like a stabbed earthworm.

The snake's head was still stuck to his gun, it covered the front half of the barrel like a sleeve, and the head twitched and writhed around the barrel as life disappeared from its black, beady eyes.

Claude gasped the moment the rest of its body let go of him and collapsed to his feet where he wheezed intensely for nearly a minute. The darkness that had taken over nearly half his vision when he finally fired the gun, slowly receded into oblivion. He crawled over to the steps' base wall and pulled himself up by it.

His body suddenly felt heavy, heavier than it had ever felt in his entire life. And it hurt. God it hurt! Ever muscle fibre, every tendon, every vein and every nerve screamed at him furiously. He fought back the desire to just collapse and pass out, and felt his belt as he stumbled back to the loose tile.

One torch was still alight. He took hold of the base and yanked, but the torch didn't budge. The mud had been soft and obedient when he'd shoved it in there, but it felt now like the torch was buried in stone. He yanked on it again and the torch gave way some. A third yank freed it, but the torch felt a hundred times heavier than he remembered, and everything between the tips of his fingers and his shoulder blade shouted at him again.

He found a shrub that must have been washed into the basement nearby and shoved the torch into it, setting the rotten wood alight. He found the dead torches in the extra light. He cleaned off the worst of the mud and lit them again, found more shrubs and lit them as well.

The four fires burned smokily in the basement and he knew he didn't have long before the smoke would become another danger. For now, at least, the fires were worth more than the smoke they left.

He could finally see the basement's walls. They were about twenty metres from him in each direction. The entire four hundred square metres of the floor, save his small corner of it, was completely submerged under the mud.

For all the smoke the shrubs made, he was happy to have their light. He had no intention to fight another snake -- he was certain he would not survive a second one. The fire's light would reveal any such hidden assailants to him, not to mention it should hopefully convince any with half a mind to join in on the fun, to not act on those thought, at least for now.

He drew the knife he couldn't before and walked -- crawled -- to the finally unwrithing corpse. His paranoia had overtaken him. He was not going to leave the snake's head intact, lest it, by some horrible miracle, be still alive. There was also the matter of getting it off the gun. He doubted Borkal would appreciate getting a rotting snake's head on his gun when he returned it to him.

He ran the knife into the corner of the snake's mouth, and ripped it through, cutting off one end of the lower jaw. He repeated the process with the other corner, and the head and lower jaw fell off of the musket in two separate pieces.

He held the head portion down and drove the tip of his blade clean through its skull. Satisfied with his bloody work, he yanked the fangs still stuck in the aspen-wood shoe.

He turned his attention to the ruined slow-match. The torch had set its entire length on fire, and it was now just a black husk. He felt it carefully, and yanked it out once he felt it was cool enough to handle, replacing it with the only spare he had. He put the gun somewhere he could reach it quickly, not that he could use it as anything other than a club now, then returned to the hole in the ground.

He picked up the jade box, collected his torches and returned to his rope ladder. Satisfied he had everything, he clambered up the rope -- much slower now, and grunting in pain all the way.

He clambered up the rest of the stairs, tenderly, and collapsed on the ground right in front of entrance. Thanking whatever gods existed for the sunshine dancing on his face, he lay that way for nearly half an hour before he finally opened his eyes and sat up. He stared at the jade box he put on his lap now, and started fiddling with it, trying to open it.

He couldn't see anything like a lid or a hatch. It looked like a solid piece of jade. It took him a few more minutes to find an edge that felt the slightest bit loose. He pushed against it from several directions before finding one that did something. The edge slid aside and one entire side of the box slid away.

He found everything Landes had described inside the box. He saw three books, he flipped their covers open one by one and indeed two were diaries and the third was a notebook. He also saw the money pouch. There was nothing else; Landes really had been a pauper.

He stared at everything for a few more minutes before he slid the lid back into place, put it beside him, and fell back onto the ground, staring up at the sky as he took several deep, clean breaths.

He definitely didn't want his friends to find out about his little treasure, but there was no hiding what he'd just been through. What was he going to use as an excuse? They were all just sixteen years old, but they were sharp as knives.

That didn't mean their grades were any good, of course. A sharp mind was useless if it wasn't used, and they definitely made no use of their heads in school. They weren't dumb, but they were very uneducated. He wondered if they were hiding their subtle sense of inferiority at having such bad grades despite their relative intelligence by looking down on their hardworking fellow students. They certainly held their classmates in contempt.

Ugh…. Damnit! Why was it easier to fight a damn snake than coming up with a believable excuse for having done just that?

Chapter 36 - The Perfect Excuse

Welikro was busy butchering two goats by the stream when he heard the shot. The goats were common, even in the fringes of the three prefectures. They fed on the moss and leaves. They preferred to stay in the mountains where they could easily avoid predators. Their amazing climbing ability, however, did not help them at all against guns.

The goats, certain in their safety on the rocks, didn't even make a run for it when the three boys approached. Welikro simply shot the first without ceremony, reloaded, and fired again. The goats didn't run after the first shot, instead freezing where they stood, probably confusing the shot with thunder. They did, however scatter after the second goat collapsed with the second clap of thunder.

The two didn't bother chasing them, however. Two goat carcasses were going to be enough of a handful to get back to camp already. Not to mention that they didn't want to become greedy and still be around when a carnivore came after the scent of blood.

Luckily, they had yet to run into anything threatening. The worst they could run into wasn't incredibly dangerous either. It could kill a man pretty easily, mind you, but three of them armed with ranged weapons could deal with a single panther… if they knew it was coming.

The two carcasses tumbled down the slope, breaking most of their four legs on the way down. One even nearly lost its head against a rock at the bottom. Their hides did little better, and Borkal cursed for several long seconds before he calmed down.

Welikro had sold exactly these kinds of goats' skins to Wakri. Those had been old, but they'd been in far better shape than these.

"We'll get a riyas a piece for these, most likely, two if we're really lucky." Borkal sighed when he took a closer look.

"Stop blabbing and give me a hand," Eriksson said unhappily, "We'll take one and Wero the other. Let's take them to the stream first. We'll skin and gut them there. And don't come and blab about prices. You can't evaluate for squat! Your eyesight's so poor you couldn't even hit a turkey at point-blank range! You even lost the bolts!"

"Don't you complain about me! You missed those two hares!" Borkal snapped.

He dragged one of the carcasses up by the forelegs and the two continued to bicker as they headed for the stream.

"I'm just not used to it, okay? We've only ever handled training bows, hunting bows are a whole other story. If I'd had my short-barrel, We'd be swimming in hares right now!"

"Yeah yeah. Two rabbits? With that gun of yours? You might -- might -- get them if you blast into their burrows..."

They didn't even stop while they started working on their goat by the stream.

Welikro was about to shout at them to shut up when they heard the gunshot.

Welikro shot to his feet. He didn't even bother to pull his knife out of the goat.

"Hear that?"

Borkal nodded.

"Gunshot," he said simply.

"Something happen?"

Welikro glanced at their catches.

"Grab what we've cut loose already and let's go."

The three were back at the ruins, panting, forty minutes after the shot was fired. They came out just to the side of where Claude was lying, and his limp form, covered in, by now dry, mud was the first thing they saw.

Everything clattered to the floor, and the three dashed to his side.

Claude's eyes shot open when he heard their shouts.

"You're here... I'm fine... just... a little tired..."

He said before he dropped his head back onto the ground and closed his eyes again. Welikro skidded to a halt on his knees and rolled Claude around as he checked for wounds. He held his breath the whole while, gasping again only once he was certain he couldn't see anything bleeding or misshapen. He dragged Claude to his feet unhappily.

"What the hell did you do? Why are you covered in mud? Ack, you stink like a rotting corpse! Are you sure you're not dead after all?"

Claude just motioned towards the nearby entrance.

"Found a snake inside while I was exploring."

"A snake? Let's go take a look," Welikro half shouted at the other two as he darted off, still panting, towards the entrance.

"Damn, Claude!" Borkal exclaimed as he eventually came back out of the black hole of an entrance, "You actually killed it on your own! Eyke was so surprised when he saw it he grabbed Welikro's gun and nearly shot it again!

"Did he?" Claude asked.

He hadn't heard a shot.

"No. But Wero just as nearly shot him for suddenly grabbing the gun like that. We're still taking a look around. I only came up to get some firewood, the torches are all but dead."

Claude only got up again half an hour later, all his fatigue suddenly gone, and went to the basement floor as well. He found the three boys dragging the snake up the steps laboriously. He finally saw its full length for the first time. He'd only spared it a glance during the fight since he was too concerned with the biting maw. It wasn't just three metres long, like he'd originally thought, it was much closer to four and a ripple of fear ran down his spine when he thought about how he might be stuck in its stomach right now if even the smallest thing had been different.

"We can sell this for three riyas even in its battered condition," Borkal said happily.

"Leather aside, its tendons will make great glue once it's boiled down," Eriksson added.

"Enough! I can only take so much money-talk!" Welikro finally snapped, then turned to Claude, "And why on earth were you in the basement on your own? I told you there was nothing down there. Luck is the only reason you aren't in its stomach right now! What would I tell your mother and father if you died on me, huh?!"

Borkal and Eriksson finally snapped out of their reverie and looked at Claude concernedly.

"I'm sorry," Claude said obediently, "I couldn't not take a look. I threw down a torch or two, then saw something shine in the mud. I got that rope ladder out and went down, but I was attacked the moment I got in the mud."

"So, did you find the shining thing?" Welikro asked, his eyes half doubt and half childlike interest.

"I found this," Claude answered, taking out a few golden coins.

"Sha-Shaliuns!" Borkal shouted, snatching one from Claude's hand, "Oh my gods! I've only seen a few drawings of them! They have a cloaked magus image pressed on one side. The Amsra dynasty abolished the currency when they took over."

"I found five in all," Claude offered, "They were all just beside the steps."

Welikro looked at him for a few more skeptical moments, then his face faded into a wry smile.

Eriksson snatched the other four from Claude's hand.

"Are they valuable?"

"I don't know," Borkal said, "They're rare, though, that's for sure, and they're antiques, but I don't think many people actually collect them. Everything associated with the magi are taboo, after all. We should be able to get something for the gold in them when we trade them in by the money-traders, at least. I think we should be able to get two crowns a piece."

"Hehe, you're rich, Claude," Eriksson smiled with envy, "I didn't think you'd be the one to make the most on this trip. You killed a python, and you got these gold coins."

Claude waved the coins away when Eriksson offered them back to him.

"Boa'll take care of it. We said we'd split everything evenly, right?"

"But... you killed the python, and you found the coins, alone." Borkal half protested with a bitter smile.

Claude only waved him off again.

"We'll split everything equally. I'm sure you'd split with me if I'd not made anything."

"...Fine," Welikro sighed, "As for the rest of the hunts, the one who does most of the work will get the lion's portion of the share."

"Alright then. I'll take two coins and you three can each have one. Let's take care of that snake now," Claude quickly finished.

Chapter 37 - Shaliun Gold Coins

Claude bathed in the spring for over an hour before the last of the mud was finally gone. He'd fortunately had enough presence of mind to bring an extra set of clothes with him, underwear and socks included. He had originally intended to use them as replacements after a swim, but they would work just as well for this. It was the 5th month, but the lake's water, being connected to the sea and all, was cold -- not as cold as the sea, but cold all the same.

He rinsed his dirty set several times until the worst of the mud was gone. The rest would have to be dealt with at home.

His three friends were done with the snake as well when he returned. He found the chunks of snake meat, skin, tendons, and whatever-else hanging on a dry-rack they'd hastily built.

They'd left a few pieces for dinner. Welikro stripped a few choice cuts and salted them before he hung them over the fire to smoke. The gallbladder and eyes were also carefully harvested and stored in empty bottles. He said they were valuable medicinal ingredients for which the apothecaries would pay a handsome price.

Borkal and Eriksson did their part as well. They'd helped Welikro defang the head and wash it. Whitestag's old people held the superstition that carrying a snake fang around staved off disease, and the two boys had little mind to ignore their seniors.

The salt-sprinkled night sky hovered over the four as they ate around the bonfire.

"I never imagined snake could taste this good," Borkal exclaimed as he gasped for air after swallowing a particularly large bite, "You really know how to cook!"

"I forgot something," Claude said and suddenly darted off to his bag in the tent. He returned a few moments later with two bottles of blackcurrant wine, "I should've added some of this."

"Huh? Blackcurrant wine?" Borkal asked, smiling, "You brought this? Why isn't this a pleasant surprise?"

"Yup," Claude nodded, "Dad gave me a riyas. I didn't know what to buy with it, so I bought two of this. Don't drink too much, the hangover is pretty bad."

Claude had wanted to pay Borkal with the money his father had given him right away, but he would still owe them even after he'd given them everything his father had given him, so instead he decided to settle the debt from his share of the trip's earning and do something else with the money he had. He bought the two bottles since he remembered they didn't get to buy the wine because he'd used that money to buy his gifts.

They hadn't brought any cups, so they drank from the bottles in turn, passing them around as they drank.

"Oh, Eyke, I forgot to tell you," Claude said as he fetched the short musket, "The snake bit it before I got to shoot it. I'll pay for the repairs if it's needed."

Eriksson eyes were wide even before he saw the gun.

"How did it get to bite it? How on earth did you kill it?"

"I'm only alive thanks to your gun. The thing had me in a grip before I could get a shot at it. It snapped in for a bite, but I had the gun in its way and it bit onto it instead. It half-swallowed the gun in the process, so I blew right through its throat from the inside. I didn't think it would work, but it bit so hard its fangs got stuck in the shoe.

"If not for that I would be dead as well. I tried shooting it as it snapped at me, but I forgot to light the flint before I went down into the basement, so it didn't shoot. I just grabbed a nearby torch and shoved it into the priming pan. The shot you heard was the one I fired later. I made sure the thing was dead, then came topside, reloaded and shot into the sky so you'd hear."

All three in his audience shivered.

"It's all my fault," Welikro said eventually, breaking the dead silence, "I was too careless. I thought I know what was and wasn't down there since I'd been here before. I shouldn't have assumed the place was empty just because it had been when we went down last time. It was winter then, so even if the snake was down there it would have been inert. It's spring now so I should have known if anything was down there it'd be awake this time..."

"You saying that thing made the ruin its territory?" Borkal asked.

"Yes. I suppose the fact that we didn't see any other snake burrows in the area when they're everywhere on the rest of the island should have told us there was a bigger snake in the area. What better place for a burrow than a ready-made one in the ruin's basement? We didn't see any big mouse or rat burrows in the walls either, that should have been another clue..." Welikro moaned.

"It's not your fault," Claude consoled, "Besides, nothing actually happened to me besides getting dirty and running short of breath. And our haul from the ruins and the snake isn't bad either. I'm not so happy with Boa, though. Why on earth did you force that horrible antidote down my throat? It took you guys forty minutes to get here. If I'd been poisoned I'd be dead already! Gods, my tongue nearly fell off!"

"It never hurts to drink it in case," Eriksson came to his friend's defence, then he grinned like a little boy with a new toy. "This is damned cool, Claude. Forget the repairs. This fang is more than enough to make up for it. Just look at how it's stuck in the shoe! No one can argue when I tell them it was made by a snake that bit it and swallowed the muzzle!"

"You and Boa ought to give the fangs a good boiling, just in case," Welikro said, "We can't be sure you got everything out of the tubes in them."

The two quickly dumped their fangs in the pot and watched it simmer.

Claude and Welikro fetched the leaves they'd picked for smoking that afternoon and got to smoking the snake meat.

"I almost forgot to ask you something, Boa," Claude said at one point, "You said it was too bad the shaliuns weren't magic. What did you mean? Is there a difference between magical or normal shaliuns?"

Boa nodded.

"You know who made the first gold coins?"

"No..."

"I've heard and read that the first coins were made four thousand years ago by the magi. People used to only barter before then. It was too troublesome for the magi, though, since they didn't produce anything common they could exchange for their special materials, not to mention that some of the stuff was way too expensive to barter for, so they made coins. They started by pressing black-gold into small plates. They used them purely amongst themselves, though, and only to exchange for special materials."

"Black-gold is very expensive, though, and there isn't a lot of it, so they eventually switched to normal gold with just a bit of black-gold mixed in and started pressing designs on their sides. They named the new coins after the magus that first made coins, Shaliun.

"But because black-gold was so rare, and was also an ingredient in a lot of their work, many magi just melted the coins down to get the black-gold in them, which made it a nightmare to keep the coins in circulation. Shiks, the old northern kingdom still has a single one of those original coins, and it's a national treasure.

"Despite that they used very little black-gold in a single coin, they minted countless coins, and the number only grew as the number of coins in circulation grew and their value eventually depreciated. They eventually stopped using black-gold entirely because they were using too much of what little they could mine to mint coins. They still called their new, normal gold coins the shaliun, and the black-gold shaliun became the magic shaliun. The latter traded for a hundred normal shaliuns.

"Normal people also started using shaliuns once the normal gold coins appeared. Originally only the magi's magic methods were used to make the identical coins, but it became too much of a burden. The magi weren't willing to waste their magical energy to make coins for the peasants to use, so they made seven moulds and gave them to seven noble magi families. They would be the only people allowed to make shaliuns, and they would be responsible for supplying all the coins the peasants needed.

"Apparently it's those moulds that inspired the normal people to start minting their own coins. They couldn't get their hands on gold, however, so they made silver and copper coins. The gold coins came in only seven subtle variations, but the normal-person-made coins quickly split into different coins for every kingdom with very different designs, shapes, and engravings.

"I've read that there were as many a 143 different silver coins and over 800 different copper coins at one point. Everyone that owned a silver or copper mine usually made their own coins as well. They weren't all worth the same, though, since some were bigger or thicker than others, and some even had other metals mixed in, so it was a big issue to keep track of all the exchange rates.

"Nobody had the power or influence to standardise the coins, however, not until the Amsra dynasty came to power and the magi and their coins vanished. When the empire collapsed, the kingdoms started fighting over the money again. If one kingdom had to use another kingdom's money, the other kingdom had a lot of power over them, so every kingdom now makes its own version of the same sets of coins, a gold coin, a silver coin, and a copper coin. A couple, like Aueras, have their own special coins as well. Most kingdoms will also only allow their coins to be used in their kingdom.

"Shaliuns are exceedingly rare, and banned from general use in all the kingdoms as far as I know, so best we keep this hush hush and just put them in our family chests."

Chapter 38 - Return Trip

Eriksson and Welikro took their share of the shaliuns as mementos after Borkal finished his lecture. Few things could be as memorable as a shaliun, magic or not.

Claude himself didn't shelter any sentimental feelings towards his two shaliuns, he had thirty more on hand. He'd initially wanted to get Borkal to sell them, but it seemed that was not going to happen. He suspected Wakri's shop had to have other magic items. Now that he knew a bit more about what for which to look, he intended to give it a thorough combing.

Unfortunately, Borkal was not going to sell it, which made Claude rethink his intents. He was worried that if he traded his coins, the three would realise he'd hidden them.

The human mind is hard to predict. It wasn't that he was paranoid, he just didn't want to risk ruining his friendships. Luckily his excuse had worked. Even if he were to get Borkal's help, they might not necessarily suspect him. He knew it would eat away at his friend, however, so he chose not to do it.

He was most amused that the three most reliable people of whom he could think were three kids. They were more reliable than even his parents, as far as he was concerned. He was not about to trade the coins himself, either. The whole town would know before the sun set.

Borkal was the only one on whom he could rely. He would not just come up with a cover, he would also do his best to get the best price. Both the others knew his financial situation well, however, and they'd noticed the moment he started spending anymore than he usually did.

He needed to figure out how to keep his friendships in tact whilst simultaneously getting the money he needed to buy any other magic items he came across.

"Boa," Claude said finally. "I only want to keep one. Can you help me sell the other? I need normal money more than shaliuns. You know my dad and my older brother won't let me keep a fenny if they find out. And they would never give me any money. It was already a miracle that I got the money out of them this last time."

Borkal gulped his mouthful of wine down before he answered.

"Okay, I'll ask around and get you a good price. I think a few of dad's friends might be interested."

Claude smiled.

"Great! I'll treat you all to a good meal if you can get a buyer."

Borkal and Eriksson downed most of both of the bottles on their own, then collapsed, dead drunk. Claude and Welikro only took a few small sips.

They tucked the two in, and returned to the bonfire. The night breeze gusted quite strongly and brought the night air down to a nippy cold and the two added the drunks coats to their own.

"Why didn't you drink more?" Claude asked.

"Didn't feel like it. I was careless today and it damn well nearly got you killed. I'm not about to make the same mistake tonight."

"Going to be on watch all night?"

Welikro smiled wearily.

"Yeah. Look at those two. They're dead as pigs. You sure you want to count on them to keep you safe? I'm even afraid they won't wake up until we're halfway back to town! And I'd actually prefer it that way. You know how bad blackcurrant wine hangovers are. I'd much rather do all the packing up and sailing home myself than have them up and about -- as much as one can be under those circumstances. I didn't see you drink much either."

"Never liked drinking," Claude said, slowly twirling his snake skewer, "I just wanted to taste it. It wouldn't be good for all four of us to be drunk, now would it? And I have no intention of turning this camp ground into a vomit fest like what happened with my dad's dinner. I've seen -- and cleaned up, mind you -- enough vomit for one lifetime."

"My dad likes to drink a lot and he gets drunk often. But he's fine when he's drunk. He won't puke or make a mess. He's a sleepy drunk. But my sister hasn't let him drink since she decided she was in charge of the house. Dad has to sip from his secret stash in the attic, and he can only secretly save up for a bottle every couple of months."

Claude was speechless. That said, he had no mind to criticise Welikro's sister.

"You better get some rest early, too. I'll keep watch, don't worry," Welikro said, patting his musket.

"I'm not sleepy yet. I don't think I could sleep even if I tried and wanted to, anyway. We made the right choice to come. It's too bad the break is so short. I don't think we'll have the time to come back again anytime soon."

"It doesn't look like you almost died today."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm scared. But it won't do to just shiver in a corner muttering to myself. Besides, I'm the one eating."

"I suppose… Anyway, how about this; if you can get your family's permission, I'll ask my dad to let you come with us on our hunt this winter."

"We'll see. It's only end of the 5th right now. It's still half a year before winter comes. Who knows what will happen? We shouldn't make our plans too early. Besides, my dad might be a dignitarian, but he's forbidden any of us to own a musket, or even just a bow. I can't practice regularly like you can. As for school... Well, our musket training only starts next year. Sigh, if I didn't have Eyke's musket..."

"Actually, there's a way," Welikro teased, "You can get someone else to buy you a musket. Just register the musket on their name. He'll basically be your guarantor."

"If my dad finds out, he'll freak out," Claude warned, "And I don't have the money, anyway."

The two gave up the idea for now. Welikro knew Claude's father would never let him get a gun, and Claude couldn't finance one on his own. Not to mention that he was not likely to find someone willing to risk crossing his father even if he could finance it.

Claude stood up, washed the pot again, and put it to the boil with some water. Best to make sure their drinking water was clean. He waited for it to come up to a boil, and let it sit for a few minutes before taking it off. He waited an hour or so for it to cool enough, then filled their water sacks. He filled the pot again, then dumped some bones into it.

"Making bone soup again?" Welikro asked.

He had some flour left. Each bag of flour weighed five catties. Claude poured everything into an empty bucket and filled it with some cold water.

"We'll have soup tomorrow. I won't have time to make breakfast, so this way we'll at least have a decent meal before we leave. How about some pancakes as well?"

Claude didn't have a proper round pan, so he instead used the other pot. Once he had a decent batch, he cut up some of the goat meat and grilled it and wrapped it in the pancakes. Now they had lunch as well. He pinched the leftover kneaded flower into little balls, then tossed them into the water pot.

......

The drunkards woke up later than before, but still pretty early, to Claude's surprise and Welikro's disappointment, and they were just as moanful as both had feared. Claude gave them the soup and they slurped as quietly as they could. They actually just turned around and slept again for another hour before getting up for good, looking no better.

Claude and Welikro had already packed everything, so they immediately prepared to set off for the boat. The four didn't know how they were going to handle their haul, however.

"Two buckets, four sets of plates and bowls, a pan, and a pot. They all go back to the boat. The two tents and four blankets come as well. How are we going to handle the kills though?" Welikro asked.

"We can't forget to keep an eye out for trouble while we do it, either. Let's cut a few branches and tie the meat so we can carry them on the poles? Two will carry and the other two will keep watch. We can switch as we go, too. We're going downhill, so it shouldn't be too bad, either," Claude offered.

It took them two hours to get to the top, but they were much lighter, so it took them as long to get down. Half the reason was that Eriksson and Borkal kept having to stop to nurse their poor heads. In the end, Claude took the clattering metalworks off them so they wouldn't die every time someone took a heavy step, leaving only Welikro to keep watch.

The drunkards slept for another hour when they reached the boat before they set off. They would have left sooner, letting the two sleep on the boat, but Eriksson had to take the helm to get them through the shallows and shoals. They very nearly forgot the nets, but Eriksson was kind enough to notice their absence just as they were leaving the shore.

They didn't, however, find the net. It had simply vanished.

Chapter 39 - Shocking the Town

"Are you certain we put it in here?" Borkal asked doubtfully. They must've gone to the wrong place.

"It should be..." Claude answered, uncertainty tainting his voice.

He only recalled Eriksson saying to leave the net there where the depth was greater than four meters. He didn't really pay attention to where exactly that was.

"I forgot..." Welikro shrugged.

Eriksson looked around carefully.

"Yup, we put it here, I'm certain. We seamen don't forget where we put our nets."

"C-could someone have taken it?" Borkal asked. It would be a real problem if that was the case; the net was worth ten thales.

"It can't be," Eriksson said, uncertain of himself, "The floats are marked. No one from Whitestag would dare to take something clearly marked to belong to us. And no one can sell the net in town without everyone immediately realising it's stolen. The net isn't just marked as ours, it's made using our family's unique weaving method. Not to mention that the town's fishermen are honest. I can't believe anyone would steal our net."

"Didn't you say there were many newcomers to town lately? Maybe it was one of them, they might not know about your family yet, and they could be dishonest enough to steal the net," Borkal suggested.

"They still shouldn't have the guts. The inspectors are very strict and thorough, they'll catch them, and when they do, they'll give them a very hefty fine, if they don't just degrade their social status outright. We have a shortage of serfs at the moment, so I don't think they'll have a qualm with making them villains."

Eriksson was right. The nearby highway needed repaving, and they didn't have the labour necessary to do the job, so the courts had lately been very quick to downgrade someone's social status to villain so they could be indentured to fill up the workforce.

"Let's look harder. Maybe it's just floated off. If so, it's likely got caught on something a bit up or down the shore." Welikro said.

"Impossible. We weighed it down with plummets. It couldn't have floated away. No boat would have dragged it away without noticing either."

They searched for half an hour without any result, but finally discovered it just as they were about to give up.

"How did it get here? We're on the edge of the lake now," Eriksson asked.

The net had moved all the way to the outpost. They'd have missed it entirely if not for its bright red floats.

Welikro gave it a yank, expecting it to come up, but nearly pulled himself off the boat into the water.

"Why's it so heavy? Is it caught on something?"

He steadied his footing and pulled on it again. It gave a little, then started coming up slowly.

"A fish! A huge one!" Welikro suddenly shouted.

There it was, a huge, one and a half metre fish stuck in the net. It had ripped a hole through the net, but gotten itself stuck on its taller midsection. It must have dragged the net all the way here in its struggles before dying of exhaustion.

Eriksson laughed ecstatically when the fish finally plopped onto the deck of the ship.

"It's a blacktiger! Such a huge one, too! Hahahaha! Nobody has ever caught one this big!"

Blacktiger fish were a special breed found only in Lake Balinga. They usually lingered at the bottom of the lake's deepest parts, so they were incredibly hard to catch. Most of the time fishermen only caught younger, smaller ones too, when, once in a blue moon, they did. They had succulent meat worthy of being called a delicacy, so they were very sought after. Several fishermen, including Eriksson's father, had tried to breed them, but it was impossible to catch any alive, they always struggle until they dropped dead.

"Dead or not, we should put it in the livewell. They go bad particularly quickly if they aren't kept in cold water. We'll take it out as soon as reach the docks," said Eriksson with a beaming grin.

Claude didn't really care. He had what he wanted, and even without the fish he would have been able to pay off his debts. He curled up on the deck and dozed off.

He was woken by Borkal when they reached the docks. He got up and peaked over the railing. Just a hundred metres ahead was the Altronis family dock. Old Sunny was already waiting for them.

"We there? That's quick," he yawned as the boat lurched against the peer.

"Quick?" Eriksson laughed, "You slept the whole way, that's all! Welikro said you were up the whole night so we decided not to complain."

"Thanks," Claude yawned again, "Why do I still feel sleepy?"

Welikro answered him as he handed Old Sunny the docking yarns.

"You were in shock yesterday, not to mention all that hard work fighting the snake. You're body's exhausted. You should rest for the rest of the day when you get back home. We'll sort everything out here."

So it was finally leaving the island that let him get some sleep? Turned out he was more affected by it than he'd thought.

Claude nodded, yawning a third time.

"Alright, I'll go back. Hail a carriage for me. I think I'll fall asleep on the way back if I have to walk."

He departed soon after. He had to fight to keep his eyes open until he reached home. He yawned a greeting at his sister. His exhaustion made him miss her red and puffy eyes. He half-stumbled his way to his room in the attic and collapsed face first on the bed, asleep before his head had even hit the pillow.

He woke up several hours later, still tired, but feeling much better. He found his mother and his little brother sitting on the bed, watching him.

Bloweyk was crawling -- more like rolling, really -- all over him.

"What's wrong, Claude? You feeling ill?" his mother asked as he lifted his head.

Shaking his head, he hugged the little piggy, ignoring his protests.

"It's nothing. I was up all night, so I'm just tired."

His mother sighed surreptitiously.

"It's time to eat. Your father wants to talk to you. And why were you on watch all night if all three of you went fishing? Are they bullying you?"

Claude merely shook his head with a smile. He pinched the little piggy's cheeks before getting up and going downstairs.

"Carry me," Bloweyk demanded.

"Alright, come," Claude said, lifting his brother onto his shoulders before he left.

"Watch the door!" his mother yelled as he headed for the stairs.

Claude squatted exaggeratedly as he came to the door, making Bloweyk squeal. He carried the piggy all the way to the ground floor, then put him down.

Morssen and Arbeit sat by the dining table. He heard his sister already washing everyone's dishes in the kitchen.

"What did Father wish to talk about?" Claude asked, taking his seat.

"Our dinner was plentiful today, thanks to you," his father said, putting down his pipe.

He looked around the table, and finally realised all the cuts he'd prepared to bring home were laid out on the table.

"Huh? Where's the blacktiger meat? Did Boa not send any over?"

"Blacktiger?" his father asked, "Pjard's chef bought the whole thing, for a pretty penny, too. He wanted to buy the dear, goat, and snake as well but your friends wouldn't sell him everything."

"H-how do you know..." Claude asked, choking on his bread at the mention of the snake.

"You came right home and fell asleep. I'm not surprised you don't know about the commotion your friends caused today. They put the snake skin on display. You don't see a snake that big every day around here. Not anymore, at least. Not to mention the blacktiger and the deer. I didn't think you would get such a big haul from your little 'fishing trip'. I hear a couple of tailors very nearly started physically fighting over the deer and the snake. Boa really is a merchant's son, though, isn't he? He started a street auction right there, and the two sold for a good price.

"And Welikro made sure to send the meat he said you'd earmarked to bring home. He said it was your catch. I told him you were only going on a fishing trip, so I asked him if you'd fished the snake and the deer out of the lake as well."

Claude finally realised why his father was in a bad mood. He'd told him only that they were going on a fishing trip, not that they were going to camp on Egret. His father was not very impressed that he'd not been told the whole truth.

"Sorry, Father. I didn't tell you we were going to camp out as well because I thought you wouldn't let me go. We took the muskets with us to hunt," Claude confessed.

"Who took the muskets?" his father asked.

"Wero and Eyke. They took their father's weapons. Actually, that reminds me, I've been meaning to ask for a musket for myself..."

His father didn't answer him; he only rapped the table rhythmically with his fingers. Claude was surprised, but also happy, to see his trash older brother not say a word. He would usually be the first to jump at the opportunity to get a hook or two into his little brother.

"Alright, I'll forget about it this time, but I don't want you lying to us about something, anything, again, you understand me?--" Claude nodded obediently. "--Alright, go ahead and eat."

His father wrapped the table one last time, took his pipe, and left.

Chapter 40 - Splitting the Spoils

Arbeit followed close on his father's heels. Claude found it weird. It was as if Arbeit did something wrong and was avoiding him.

He didn't have time to bother with the arse, though. He was too hungry. He'd only slept for two hours on the way home, and only a few more at home. He missed lunch, and now it was dinnertime. Despite how tired he was, his stomach wouldn't let him sleep anymore until he satisfied it.

He polished his meal off quickly, then left, only seven-tenths full. Despite how excited he'd been to find the thing, he only thought about Landes' chest again now. He felt like he was being teased by a cat. He quickly gathered up his utensils and crockery and took it to his sister in the kitchen. He stroked her head a few times, failing to notice her eyes, which said she wanted to tell him something, and darted back up to his room.

The bag was out from under the bed before the door had even shut and his nostrils flared at the stench. He couldn't believe his mother hadn't noticed it when she was in his room. She must have thought it was him!

"Ugh... Ack..." He pinched his nose involuntarily as he took the box out of his bag.

Despite where the chest had been, it was as clean as when he'd first pulled it out of its hidey-hole. He supposed that was to be expected from a magus' bog though.

He couldn't get it out of his head that the box looked like jade. He had been Chinese in that life, so jade was very significant to him. He took its existence for granted, and couldn't believe there was neither a word for it in Hebrai, nor any substance that resembled it. The closest thing to it was 'stone essence'.

Stone essence used to be mined as the quintessential mineral, but the entire industry stopped when the magi fell. It was nothing more than a pretty stone now, and not even particularly nice in the eyes of most people.

The box in his hand, however, if it really was this world's equivalent of jade, would have been made out of one of the most premium variants there could be. He'd learned a lot about the stones from his boss in his previous life. It was a very premium material for women's jewellery.

Stone essence… what a horrible name though. It had none of the ring of jade. Then again, jade only had that ring to it because of all the values and emotions associated with it for centuries.

Claude turned his thoughts to the diaries. He wondered how many years were recorded in them. They were as thick as dictionaries and the parchment was so thin one could just barely see the page behind's ink bleed through. It was also clearly not written on the move; the letters were small and delicately written. Luckily the diaries appeared to have been written in standard Hez, not a dialect. Heaven help Claude if that had been the case. They were also not written in hidden text, so it wouldn't be such a slow process to decode them.

The third book was supposed to be a notebook and it interested Claude most. If he was lucky, it would give him at least a rudimentary understanding of magic. If heaven favoured him, he might even actually learn something useful.

The notebook was as big as both diaries put next to one another, but it was nowhere near as thick. It was just forty pages, giving about eighty pages worth of surface in the diaries' size. Its paper was equally thin and exceedingly delicate. It was a miracle it had survived in such pristine condition for so many centuries.

Besides the books, there was just the money sack with the thirty shaliuns. He took a careful look at each, but they were all made of normal gold. Landes must have been a very pitiful magus to not have even one black-gold shaliun on him.

He'd not let his mind run too wild with dreams of Landes' grandeur, but he never expected the poor thing to be this insolvent. Then again, it was still infinitely better than nothing.

That said, it was still sad that the shaliuns were all but useless to him. They had no connection with magic, and he couldn't even exchange them for useable money. At best they were playthings. The best he could do was hide them away safely and hope a day would come when he could exchange them.

He set the sack aside and started flipping through the dictionary-thick diaries, his flips, however, lacked enthusiasm. So is man, he loses sleep over what he desires, and loses interest in what he acquires. He'd earned the diaries with his life, but he didn't have any interest in them. They were probably nothing more than aimless commentary on his boring daily life. He didn't think they'd recoup the effort in entertainment value.

The thought sapped his interest in the notebook as well. He flipped through it randomly and saw a few simple drawings and a few paragraphs on most of the pages. His eyes slowly brightened with suspicion, and he glared at a particular drawing. They looked very familiar. If he hadn't just handled one of them, he would have thought the drawing was of a cannon. What kind of musket would have such a thick, short barrel? He'd have thought it was indeed a cannon if not for the clear indication of a slow-match stuck in a cock and the distinctive trigger.

He was reminded of the matchlocks mentioned in the cookbook-diary. Where these drawings of the improved design? Welikro's Gally Mark 3 had an uncanny resemblance with the design he saw in the book in front of him now. Six centuries had passed, but nothing had changed at all?

Despite the discovery, Claude's interest was only passingly raised. He flipped through a few more pages, then put the book down and got up. He paced back and forth a few times before something among his dirty clothes on the floor caught his attention. Right, he hadn't taken a bath yet. He'd best hide the box and the sack first though. He could just leave the books where they were, there was nothing magic about them, so they weren't that much of a threat, unless someone able to read Hez suddenly came in and started reading them.

He stuffed the box and the sack back under his bed; it wasn't like he had anywhere else to put them. He was suddenly made acutely aware of the lack of storage -- read hiding -- space in his attic room. That said, few people had the urge to come into his room even when he was absent and it was out of the way and far from the house's main hub.

He went downstairs with his clothes. He'd have his mother get a helper to wash the clothes. Having dropped off his clothes, he went to the first floor. To his surprise, Arbeit wasn't there. Was he off drinking again? Well, not that he was going to complain that the old fart was absent. He bathed quickly and whistled his way back to his room happily.

He got onto the roof and soaked in the moonlight. He'd developed the habit of moonbathing every evening since getting to work on the cookbook. He felt safest when he felt the silver light dance on his skin.

He spent most of the evening there, but the roof made for an awkward bed and he was stiff as he climbed back in through the window. He gave his desk an abbreviated clean and got back in bed for the night.

----------

The god of war's bell woke him the next morning. He groomed himself and went down for breakfast like the usual mornings. Arbeit was already seated at the table. His food vanished down his throat faster than usual and he vanished only a few minutes after Claude had come down. Claude's dad said he had to get back to work urgently since Sir Fux was back in town.

It was a normal school day again as well, so Claude was off to school after breakfast and, like usual, his friends were waiting for him by the fruit stand opposite his house. They each had a partially eaten apple in hand.

"One more, please," Borkal asked Eriksson, "Yours," he said as he held it out to Claude.

Claude took it graciously and watched Borkal pay the three fennies for it. No one said another word until all their apples were finished.

"I heard you caused a commotion yesterday," Claude said finally as he swallowed his last bite and threw the seeds away.

"How'd you know?" Borkal asked.

"My dad cornered me last night," he answered, a slight twinge in his voice.

"You should have seen the crowd!" Eriksson said animatedly, Half the town must have been there. He showed off the snake skin. The tailors even fought over it!"

"Don't worry, we told everyone we found it already dead while we were out hunting. No one knows you actually killed it." Welikro whispered conspiratorily.

"That's good. Don't let people find out we went to the ruins."

Things were uneasy enough at home as it was, Claude had no interest in making things even worse. He'd lose his rear if his father found out where they'd really been to. He might even forbid him from ever seeing his friends again.

"No one but us knows, promise. Everyone thinks we went to the swamp. Snakes aren't all that rare there, so it makes sense. This one's just a bit larger than what most people have seen," Welikro said.

"Did you sell everything?" Claude asked.

"All of it. Got 17 thales and eight riyas for it all," Borkal said happily.

"How'd you get so much?!"

"I opened an auction right there while everyone was heated. They were so worked up at just seeing everything they paid way more than they would have normally." Borkal had a real scammer's smile in moments like these.

"The snake skin sold for six thales three riyas on its own. Hans the weapons shop owner bought it."

"The hell? Why would Hans need a snake skin? Did he buy it in the heat of the moment?"

"Snake leather is ideal for holsters and sheaths, according to him, at least. He said he was just looking for some snake leather for a commission of his," Eriksson chirped in.

"Wakri bought the snake's tendons for three thales and four riyas. He also took the two goat skins, six riyas in all. The deer hide went to Miss Mila, the seamstress. Chirp Leather didn't get anything, they must be really embarrassed," Borkal continued.

Indeed they had to be. They were the town's largest and most well-known leather shop, but they didn't get any of the great items up for auction. It must have been a real hit to their pride, especially in front of so many people.

"We sold the blacktiger to Pjard for two thales. The apothecary took the snake eyes and gallbladder for two thales and eight riyas, but I bartered another antidote out of him."

Borkal wasn't in the habit of not milking these kinds of things for all they were worth and then some, Claude decided.

"We each get four thales, four riyas, and five sunars."

"You guys should take the money I owe you from my share," Claude quickly added, "We'll go out for food today, my treat. I want to stop by the bookshop too."

Chapter 41 - Treating in the Tavern

Claude understood they only got such a huge haul thanks to good luck. Welikro had done all the hunting, while Claude only got the snake by accident, and the blacktiger was a gift from the heavens. He highly doubted they would have the same luck the next time they went.

Borkal also played a huge part in selling their spoils for a good price. He exploited the heated exchanges between the onlookers expertly and all but extorted their money.

He understood that a live, open air auction was a show for shops to bet with their reputations, and it would milk the best prices out of them. Chirp Leather, for example, lost their bets and their reputation took a severe hit. It was almost certain that, at least for a while, Mila's Tailor would be the hunters' top pick instead of Chirp Leather. Their second choice would also not be Chirp Leather, but Wakri instead.

Claude knew they'd made a good haul when he saw everything side by side, but he'd never expected it to go for over 17 thales, maybe eight or nine. He still had 3 thales even after he paid back his debt. A two-day trip just earned him his father's entire salary!

No wonder his father was acting so weird. He didn't even scold him for lying to him. He probably found out about the money the four boys had made. He should go buy some books before his father decided to indeed scold him.

That brought him to why he'd decided to treat his friends to lunch. It was actually just an excuse to come to town so he could buy the books.

"I brought a money pouch for each of you with your share. I'll give them to you when we get to school," Borkal continued, "Do you want me to hand out your debt today, Claude?"

"I leave it to you. We'll use that for lunch."

"Claude's right. We made quite a bit, so we should pay our own bills," Eriksson agreed.

"No complaints here," Welikro added, "You can just give me four riyas and five sunars and keep the rest with you for now. I'll get it from you when I need it."

"Why?" the three asked in unison.

"My sister will take it if she catches me with it and I'll never see it again. She's done it a couple of times already so I know she will. She always takes my allowance."

The three winced at the boy's ineptitude.

"Okay, I'll keep it safe for you."

The three walked into the classroom to a rousing applause. Eriksson beamed like he'd never done before.

"What are they doing?" Claude asked, blank-faced.

"Most of them were at the docks yesterday." Borkal explained in a whisper, "I heard a few've taken to calling us second year's warriors. Even a few of the hunters said they wouldn't go up against that snake if they had a choice. So this is all thanks to you."

So now we're the four warriors of year two? How bad can this get? Claude asked himself, his face turning red.

He didn't go looking for the damned snake, and he only just barely survived. He didn't deserve to be called a warrior. But he'd have to reveal that he was the one to clear up that little misunderstanding, and besides the fact that his father would never let him go on a trip like that again if he found out, he didn't think it would make things better; it might actually make things worse instead.

He barely made it through the three morning classes. Every instructor gave them a few minutes of praise before they started class. They were swarmed at lunch time, and Claude was certain a couple of girls were even making googly eyes at him.

Welikro didn't seem to mind it though. He was an airhead, so it went in one ear and out the other. Claude had never liked being in the spotlight, even before he got the added trouble of coming to a different world. But trying to avoid it was liable to only make things worse, or at least draw the wrong kinds of attention to him, so he endured.

Borkal and Eriksson's egos suffered the most, they blew up like balloons and their lips smacked non-stop as they told their epic to anyone willing to listen… and unfortunately there were way too many willing to do just that. They got dangerous close to revealing that Claude was the one to kill the snake on several occasions and he had to literally shove his hand over their mouths twice before they said it was him.

He also had to fight to keep them from mentioning the ruins, but he couldn't stop them from blabbing about Egret. He only heard about half of the stories they told, but he suspected the island would gain several dozen new legends in the next couple of months. He was quite ambivalent about the two's wild stories, a few of them wouldn't have held up to the slightest scrutiny, and he didn't know if he wanted someone to catch them on their lies so their egos could come back down to earth, or not.

It took him all the spare patience he'd saved up in the last six months to make it to lunch time. He dragged his friends through the crowds after a couple of minutes of entertaining the swarm and they slipped out of school.

"Where should we eat?" Welikro asked.

"Why don't we go to a tavern? Didn't Eyke sell the blacktiger to one? Maybe we should have a taste?" Claude suggested.

"No way! Do you want to get scolded? How much do you want to bet at least a dozen of the people there will recognise us? I'm almost certain our dads must be there to try the fish out as well right now," Borkal objected.

"Mine will definitely be there. I heard him arrange a reservation with Pjard yesterday," Eriksson agreed.

He didn't look very happy. He wanted to taste the fish too. His father, however, was just like him. He loved to bathe in the limelight, and his skin was thick enough to bathe in his son's limelight as well.

Claude slapped his forehead. How could he not think of that?! Pjard's was a well-known tavern in town, and with that fish, it would be even busier, not to mention that the four boys' dads would obviously be in the front of the line to have a taste today. It was even likely his father had been invited to have a taste! Going there now would be suicide.

The town actually had quite a lot of eateries. Taverns and inns were the most popular kind of businesses for townsfolk to own, besides fishing boats. Despite that, only Pjards was revered to as 'the tavern' by the locals, Whitestag Tavern. It was the oldest tavern in town, and a few even believed it was as old, if not older than the town itself and they often argued whether the tavern was named after the town, or the town after the tavern. It now belonged to the only local to be on the council, Sir Fux. He was not involved in its management, however, and it had come to be known as 'Pjards' as well, after the head chef which managed and ran it.

Pjard was quite the character. Originally from the capital, where his family owned a luxury restaurant, he came to run Sir Fux's tavern several years ago. The two became close friends during Sir Fux's studies in the capital.

He was originally earmarked to take over the family restaurant, but a love affair between him and a local noble's daughter soured when her parents found out about it and he had to leave the city or risk their retaliation against his family. To his surprise, however, his lover decided to elope with him, and the nobles went after his family anyway. Luckily, the worst they could do with their reduced power thanks to Stellin IX was to harass his family's business until it closed.

He got into contact with his old friend, Sir Fux, who offered him the management of his tavern in Whitestag.

The chef fired everyone who was involved in less savoury activities, chief among them prostitution, and convinced his old friend to renovate the place. He personally hired and trained his new staff in his family tradition. When the place opened again in three months, it could compete with all but the best restaurants in the capital, and nobles often came all the way from the prefectural capital to stay and eat at Whitestag Tavern, not to mention anyone who was anyone from town.

"You saved us, Boa. But where will we go, then?"

"Let's go to Big Fork. You said you wanted to buy books right? It's right next to the bookstore. And I heard it has the best mutton ribs and marinated noodles this side of the main road," Eriksson suggested.

Most people named their shops for their family, since such establishments were usually family owned and run businesses. Big Fork was originally known as Lunbard's Lunches, but they put a gigantic wooden fork on the front of the building to catch people's eyes, and everyone now called it Big Fork.

Note to self: never put massive stuff on your buildings, Claude told himself.

The noodles in this world were the Japanese soba style noodles, though they weren't made from soba. The flour was kneaded into pancake like expanses of dough, folded several times, and sliced into noodles. Most people also ate them in what would have been called the traditional Japanese style. The noodles were boiled for several seconds, usually no more than a minute at most, and eaten as is with a light dipping sauce. Claude didn't like this world's sauce though.

The mutton was another matter entirely. He couldn't think of a time he'd had mutton from either of his lives that could compare to Big Fork's. The place usually served black-wheat ale, or honeyed red tea. They had to go to class again after lunch, though, and it wouldn't do to smell of alcohol, so they all stuck to tea.

Claude had a big bowl of mutton ribs and a huge bowl of noodles, which he ate without the sauce. Borkal had the same, but a smaller bowl of ribs. Eriksson and Welikro, on the other hand, went all in on the noodles, and even split Claude's sauce between them as well. They even ordered a second bowl each.

They all ate quickly, Claude because he had to fit his shopping into the lunch hour as well, and the others mainly because they were hungry. Claude paid the bill, twelve sunars for the ribs, three sunars a bowl of noodles, and four sunars for the tea, three riyas, four sunars in all. That was three days' worth of his father's normal salary. Big Fork was one of the more expensive places in town, but it had food to match. It was still nothing compared to Whitestag Tavern though.

Chapter 42 - Bookstore

The town only had one bookstore, Bark's Books. It served Whitestag's elite almost exclusively. It wasn't a particularly big establishment, but it still occupied two storefronts. It was also very quiet.

"I heard you just got a new batch of books, Uncle Bark?" Borkal shouted as he stepped into the quiet shop.

He was a regular by now and didn't bother keeping his voice down.

"Over there, I've got 15 in all. Be careful with them! I only got three copies of each. I'll have you pay if you ruin one!" the owner said behind the counter, adjusting his monocle as he read his bills.

Eight of the books were biographies. Claude had never had a good view of biographies. Most of them were nothing but narcissists stroking their ego, and that was even more-so true now. They were usually commissioned by a famous or well-off noble or councillor and heavily edited -- for accuracy's sake, of course.

Only stupid people read them, and only idiots believe them... Claude thought.

Five of the books were novellas, the standard cookie-cutter knight's tale. They only differed from the typical renaissance tales of old earth in that they used magi as their antagonists, rather than dragons. In these novels, however, the dragons were never anymore than the magi's mounts. They usually either turned against their masters, were killed off by the knight before the main fight, or became the knight's mount. He was ashamed to admit that he very much enjoyed them when he was young, well, when he was last young.

One of the remaining two was a travel journal, written by one of Aueras's diplomats about his experiences while travelling all over the continent on his missions. Claude picked one of the copies.

The other was a report on the latest discoveries of maritime flora and fauna. Most of the book was dedicated to a new dye a herbalist had synthesised after nearly a decade of research and experimentation. The main ingredients were violet-water and atro grass. Apparently it also lasted longer than any of the hitherto known dyes.

It would make a good addition to his father's study, so he added a copy of that to his stack. His father, as the town secretary, was expected to have a good body of knowledge, to know something about everything, so he liked to show off his cupboard of books to his visitors as proof he met that expectation. He might even be able to use the book to help motivate his application for funding of his new project.

Claude ended up buying one book from each of the categories, the 'Atro Grass' book, the travel journal 'Sights of Shiks', one of the romances, and a random biography. It cost him two riyas and two sunars in all. He didn't want to buy so many, but he couldn't spend less on books than his father had given him.

He really didn't want to buy the biography, but his father liked them quite a bit, so he'd complain if he didn't bring at least one back. As for the novel, he didn't really have an interest in them anymore, but they were good to kill a few boring hours. Especially for reading while on the toilet. He missed phones very much. He suffered from the same problem here as back then: he couldn't unleash himself while his mind was occupied with the daily grime, so he needed something with which to blank his mind.

"Take a look at this, Claude," Eriksson called in a suspiciously soft tone, "I found something good..."

"What are you up to? You look like a thief!" Claude scolded as he walked over.

"Shh!"

He slipped a book into Claude's hand surreptitiously. Claude flipped it open, somewhat annoyed, but a wry smile flashed across his face when he saw what was inside.

He'd never thought these kind of adult material would be popular this early into the printing era. It was copied by hand, but the man must have been quite skilled. It wasn't photorealistic by any stretch of the imagination, but he certainly got all the titillating details correct. No wonder Eriksson was red up to his ears and standing slightly awkwardly with his hips.

He flipped through it quickly, making sure his back covered the book from any wandering eyes. The story was apparently about a young noble lady doing her best to save her father's title. Naturally, the book being what it was, she was selling favours of a particular nature, and the paragraphs were quite detailed on her... interactions.

No wonder it was handwritten, not printed. These were banned in the kingdom. If caught, the author could be sent to prison for up to six years, and would be made a villain. Copiers and readers also faced steep fines and could even be made villains and forced to work in labour camps for three months to earn back a place among the peasantry. The exact punishment depended heavily on the enforcer and the transgressor. Someone in a particularly high station, or with a very good relationship with the enforcer might actually be able to have the transgression overlooked.

"Where'd you get this?" Claude asked.

"It was in Uncle Bark's private collection. What d'you think?"

"Average," Claude said, tossing the book back to Eriksson, "It's much better to see the real thing."

"You say that like you have," Eriksson accused, slipping the book back, "How about we buy it and sell copies to the boys at school?"

Claude glared at him.

"Go right ahead if you want to die so badly, just leave me out of it. The whole school will know the moment you suggest it to the first kid, and the teachers won't be far behind. You'll ruin your entire family's reputation, and you'll be lucky if social standing is all they lose!"

Eriksson stared at Claude.

"I'll beat anyone who dares tell on me to death."

"It'll be too late for you even if you do. You'll only find out once they've already told on you, and then you'll already have the crown on your arse."

Claude also bought card stock and 20 pieces of mali paper to copy the recipes for his mother.

Mali paper was exclusive to the far south of the kingdom and was far finer than the rough papyrus paper the three prefectures made. They were expensive as they were fine though; each sheet cost a fenny. All official documents had to be written on them to be valid, however.

His father worked with it all the time since all his reports and journals had to be written on it. He brought the bits and bobs left over home and his children used it to do their homework. They were quite extravagant like that.

His sheets were bits and bobs though, so he had to roll them up to carry them back to school. He saw Eriksson stuffing the adult book into his chest pocket. The fool still bought it...

"How much?" he whispered.

Eriksson nearly jumped over the counter.

"O-one riyas, eight sunars," he stuttered, clutching his heart.

"What?! Why's it so expensive?"

"Uncle Bark says it's much more work to copy books by hand, so it's also much more expensive, not to mention that its proscribed. He only has one, too..."

Bullshit! No wonder Eriksson thought of making a copies. Damn that was expensive!

"Sell it to Boa or rent it to him when you're done. You should be able to make a little of it back that way."

"So you do want to read it, huh? I'll sell it to you a little cheaper when I'm done--"

"--Buzz off. I don't want to read that!"

Borkal slapped his forehead when they got back to school.

"Did you hit your sister when you got home yesterday, Claude?"

"Why would you say that?" Claude asked, stopping, "Of course I didn't! I would never hit her! She's the most precious thing in the world! Why would I hit her? I went to sleep straight away."

"So it wasn't you... We heard your sister crying in the kitchen when we came by to deliver the meat yesterday. She stopped and quickly wiped her tears when we came in, but her eyes were red and swollen. She wouldn't tell us why she was crying no matter how much we asked, but we could see a red palm on her cheek. We thought it must have been you since you got home not long before we came," Welikro said.

Claude's eyes were instantly bloodshot. He'd done his best to be a good older brother since he came to this world. He was not going to let anyone do anything to his little brother and sister as long as he breathed.

"Arbeit..." the word bled out of his mouth.

He knew it was him the moment he heard what happened to his sister. So that was why the shit didn't say anything the previous night! He dared to touch his little sister?! Oh he was going to bleed, he was going to bleed so bad...

Chapter 43 - Household Turmoil

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Chapter 44 - Making Noodles

That night, Claude, his little sister, and their little brother ate in the attic. Their food was quite plain: white bread, bacon, potatoes cooked with cow bones, deer meat, and a few baked apples. Even so, Angelina was happy, and Bloweyk was even more pumped. He jumped about non-stop on Claude's bed. He even played hide and seek behind the pillows with Claude and Angelina.

Claude didn't know what his parents said to the pathetic shit, but Arbeit didn't come home again. His sister told him two days later he was sent to Sir Fux's manor and would stay there for the time being.

Claude started his equestrian training two days later. As the four friends already knew how to ride, they had a really easy time. They only took a week to clear the entire course, which meant they had that period open until the course was over and could go home earlier.

But there wouldn't be much to do if they did. It was better to ride more at school. They paid for it, after all.

Claude didn't want to go back home anyway. The atmosphere had gone off after that night. Neither of his parents said anything about him beating up his brother, but he still felt a little guilty, only because of the discomfort and distressed it caused his parents.

No matter what, Arbeit was still his elder brother. The fact that he didn't tell on him first, and instead beat him up in front of them was disrespectful to say the least. That's how he felt, at least.

Welikro and Borkal dragged him to the lake to fish whenever they weren't in school. They'd become hooked on fishing after their trip to the island. They looked like real addicts.

He didn't like to fish himself, but he enjoyed the quiet it gave him. That said, he didn't want to waste time by the lake, unfortunately it wasn't like he had anything better to do. Eriksson was caught up mending the fishing nets. He'd gotten into hanging out with women a lot more since buying that book, but Claude had no interest in listening to gossip all day long. He'd rather fish in quiet.

This day's fishing was quite unsuccessful, so Claude decided to head home early. He was surprised to find a guest when he got home. A man in his early twenties was talking to his mother. He had a small square cardboard box placed on the table. It looked like a gift cake from Lisa's Bakery.

He didn't stay long, though, and was soon gone.

"Who's he? Never seen him before," Claude said as he came closer.

"He's Mister Thomas, our new tenant. He brought us a cake to say thanks for giving him the room."

New tenant? He hadn't heard about anyone moving out.

"Oh, he rented the attic next to yours."

The attic? "What about Miss Christina?"

"That woman's gone. She's left town. Your father spoke to her boss and he's relocated her. She won't come back anytime soon, if ever," his mother's voice was hate-laden as she talked about the woman.

"She left this morning. Father gave her some money to shut her up… What a toxic thing. She'll definitely suffer divine retribution. No god would shield her..."

Claude didn't believe the woman actually extorted ten crowns from him. It was half a year of his salary! If nothing else, it showed how much his father wanted to keep things hush-hush.

"What are we having for dinner?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, tonight? The usual. Your father said he wouldn't be home for dinner, and Arbeit won't be here either, so there's only the four of us."

"Hmm, why don't we have noodles? I make pretty good ones," Claude said confidently.

"You know how to make noodles?" his mother asked doubtfully.

"Of course. I learned it by watching. It's really simple."

He got to work immediately. He first washed his hands and cleaned the bowl, then poured flour into it, added water, and three eggs and mixed.

"Why did you add eggs?" his mother asked as she watched him, Bloweyk in her arms.

"It'll make the noodles taste like eggs," Claude said, kneading the dough.

He pinched Bloweyk's nose.

"Get down. You're six and you still want Mother to carry you? Aren't you ashamed?"

"Don't wanna, I wanna see Claude make noodles!"

"Can I watch too?" his little sister asked.

"Fine," Claude said with exaggerated exacerbation. "Watch carefully. The noodles have to be kneaded with a little more force. It'll be springier that way and won't stick when you bite it."

Too much water… Just add some more flour… Too hard… bit more water...

Claude was sweating by the time he finished. He felt like a clumsy housewife. He pinched a bit of the dough to check it at last, then showed it to his mother and sister.

"Feel it. This is how it should feel. The noodles they make at Big Fork aren't kneaded. They aren't really noodles, they're just wetted flour. They don't have any spring to them."

Too bad he didn't know how to thin the noodles properly. He could only press the dough until it was paper thin before cutting it into fine, long strands. He had bone soup cooking in another pot. They were originally going to cook potatoes in it, but now it was going to be stock for the noodles.

He cut the potatoes into slices and the broccoli into small chunks. There were too few vegetables in his home and they usually only had those most common vegetables that they'd simply toss into a pot to cook. He had no choice but to stir fry them with some salt and fry four more eggs before he started cooking the noodles.

He then got four large silver plates which they usually used to serve guests and placed the noodles at the center of the plates. After that, he added the potato slices and broccoli chunks around the noodles and poured some delicious soup on them before topping the whole dish off with a fried egg on top. Claude's beef soup noodles was finally complete.

It tastes great!

The little girl ate her share with a smile on her face. Both her eyes squinted into small crescents and a look of bliss could be seen on her face.

The chubby little boy on the other hand ate with his hands. He wasn't that good at using a fork, so he stuffed the noodles into his mouth before slurping the rest in.

"Wow, this really is good. You really outdid yourself there, Claude," his mother praised. But she turned and saw the large bowl of dough remaining and asked hesitantly, "Are you going to make the rest of it into noodles? Want to leave some for me to bake into bread for tomorrow?"

"That's fine. By all means, make some bread with it," Claude said, delighted, "I had forgotten that there'd only be the four of us for dinner. I made a little too much for us to finish cause I kept on adding flour and water. I was wondering what we ought to do with it. Thank goodness it won't go to waste."

After finishing a large bowl of noodles, Claude went back up to his attic, satisfied. Noodles were one of his favorite foods in his past life. Had it not been for the noodles he tried at Big Fork, he wouldn't have thought of trying to make some. In his previous world, all he had to do to get noodles was to buy them off the market. There wouldn't be a need for him to make them himself at all. He didn't really know how to make ramen either, so he had only made simple pancakes after he transmigrated.

He couldn't recall how noodles were made as most of them on sale in the market were machine-made. He only saw it once and it seemed like they only added flour and water to a machine and noodles came out of the other end, piping hot. That was somewhat of an impossibility for him to accomplish, however.

He loved to eat noodles, sweet potato vermicelli in particular. It was made by powdering sweet potato and adding some water into the mix. After that, starch was added in through a sieve and the mixture of dough would be pressed through a holed apparatus, forming it into long, hairlike vermicelli which would then be half-cooked and dried.

However, he wasn't sure whether the process could be used with normal flour. It might succeed, but he couldn't experiment with it at home. He figured that he could try it out at Eriksson's secret base when his father was away, sailing. That way, he would have enough space.

Making noodles was quite the troublesome affair. Claude had considered making different steamed buns but that would require yeast powder, something that was unavailable in this world. He recalled that making bread also needed yeast, so he made a mental note to ask his mother how she did it. If it was possible without yeast, he might be able to find a way to make steamed buns. Now, all he had to do was to find a steamer.

After losing himself in thought for quite a while, he snapped out from his food fantasies.

He was shocked to find that his father spent such a huge sum to get Christina to leave Whitestag. His father had stifled out the scandal from its very root.

Looks like Father is well-prepared to deal with matters such as these. Even though he looks like he suffered a huge loss on the surface, all he needed was for Miss Christina to leave town for a while. Even if she returns in the future and makes a huge fuss over it, it wouldn't affect our family's reputation one bit because nobody would believe her. Instead, they would think that she's intentionally making things up to slander our family and is probably doing so under the instructions of someone else...

But this will only work if that fool Arbeit doesn't cause trouble and seek out Miss Christina.

Even so, Claude was confident that his father would never allow such a thing to come to pass.

The matter was already over. Claude opened his drawer and took out the magic notebook and began translating it.

Chapter 45 - Disappointment and Gift

Claude was crestfallen. He had spent the better part of a week translating the notebook, and he didn't find a single thing he had hoped he would. There was nothing about how people became magi, how to become stronger once you were a magus, or even just some basic information on magic.

Instead, it was more of a collection of blueprints and designs. It appeared to be designs to reduce the consumption of magical energy, or not use any at all, while still producing the same results. The goal was to enable a normal person to use magic through various techniques.

Claude didn't know enough to be certain, however. He could only guess at the diagram's purposes from the labels and notes jotted alongside them. No matter how much he read, however, the diagram's inner workings remained foreign to him.

It didn't help that the book was riddled with alchemical terms about which Claude knew nothing. He would know absolutely nothing about alchemy if not for the drawing he'd seen in the diary. He only managed to figure out something by guessing based on the descriptions of that gun schematic.

He'd seen a documentary on hand-making flintlocks, so he had some idea of their inner workings, and it gave him a framework into which to slot the diagram. The two types of weapons weren't the same, matchlocks used slow-matches attacked to cocks, whilst flintlocks used pieces of flints locked into cocks on hammers, but besides that, and their striking pans, most of the guns were the same. Especially their barrels.

Barrels were the central part of any firearm, and were central to gunsmithing. A rifled barrel, for example, could be made by hammering the barrel over a mandrel with the reverse image of the rifling to create its rough shape before it was filed down further. One could also make different parts of the barrel separately and connect them afterwards. A more advanced method was to rifle the barrel by drilling the rifling in.

The barrel was one of the hardest things to develop due to the exponentially increasing requirement of machining to put ideas into practice, and its development was thus limited to how far general machining had developed. As such, many of the stories about transmigrators saw them trying to apply modern techniques, or finding ways to drive their development faster so they can be used to improve firearms.

None of that had become much of a concern in this world, however. The magi made them initially with alchemy. They simply put the ingredients on runic formations, then applied magic, and the barrels were created.

If not for the modified gun schematics, Claude never would've found out that shaping metals was such a simple feat. The reason for that was a large paragraph on the schematics that was dedicated to the making of a suitable gun barrel by a common blacksmith under circumstances when magic and alchemy wasn't available so that they could be mass produced. When he saw them, however, he finally understood that the greatest majority of developments had been made by the magi, and had been made using alchemy.

While making one barrel was easy with alchemy, and making tens or even hundreds was possible, it was impossible for thousands or tens of thousands to be produced. No magus would take that kind of job. Other things aside, the cost of setting up the runic formations and magical ingredients required for such an undertaking was astronomical. They would also need a magus, an alchemist to be precise, to carefully control the shaping of the metals for each and every gun barrel made.

Attempting to make so many gun barrels on that scale without aid from magi or alchemy was a huge industrial endeavour. The ratios for the metals to be used to make the alloy was also recorded with the schematic, and they were definitely not suitable for use in normal smelting. Landes suggested in his notes seven different mixes that might work.

He had also designed a kiln that might be able to smelt the metals more efficiently. It was only the first step, however. The correct use of the kiln also had to be determined, and then the fine moulding of the metal also still had to be done. He had suggested a multi-phase process that might approach replicating the work magi did.

After the weapons, came five designs Landes had developed to replace magi in the various steps in the gunmaking process. Some relied on wind and water, most of them hammered, sawed, drilled, or filed. Some replied on springs and pedals and complex mechanisms, those were used for more accurate work. Some of the machines didn't work on the guns themselves in any way, they, instead, were used to measure various things, mainly how accurate the other machines had done their job.

Using alchemy was easier, but it severely limited the volumes that could be produced. They certainly couldn't supply entire armies. Alchemically produced weapons could only ever be novelty, hobby weapons, not weapons of war. Even with all Landes' work, the weapons his process and machinery could produce were far inferior in quality and workmanship, but even so they were far more suited to war and military use purely because of the numbers he could produce. Ten thousand inferior firearms were still far more effective in a battle than a hundred excellent ones.

Baron Regius Au Syr, however, had had even greater ambitions than Landes. He had asked him to come up with a process that would allow even commoners to make their own guns good enough to be used in combat. It appeared the notebook contained those designs.

The baron only raised his banner in rebellion once he had these designs. The most important aspect, besides the volume it allowed, was that it cut magi out entirely. As such, nothing the magi could do could stop him from making these weapons.

It might require a massive initial investment, but Regius had the money. He was also perfectly placed to cover the increased resource gathering activities to supply the manufactories with the metals they needed. He could just say he was increasing his work to up his supply capabilities to help the magi finish their work quicker. His success became fated the moment he got his hands on Landes' new designs.

Claude put the notebook down and sighed deep, long, and hard.

He had no doubt the notebook would have been priceless to him if he'd known something about alchemy, but he didn't. Of the 38 pages, he could make something out of maybe 8, and they were all related to the musket. He had no clue what the rest were about.

He felt very much like he had in his last life when he'd gotten his hands on a university engineering textbook when he was in middle school. He could recognise something here or something there, but the vast diagrams of various mechanical beasts were beyond him, and even the parts he did recognise were put in strange places and in strange ways. And nobody should please get him started on the equations... Yes, he felt exactly the same way now. Even worse, back then he could at least recognise most of the symbols used in the equations, now, however... the runes were completely foreign to him, not to mention they apparently used strange units of measurement.

If only he had a simple introductory text... He might at least have been able to make a low-ranked magus out of himself. If hopes could turn the world, however, heaven would be a garden. It wasn't.

Even if he was to become one, however, he would only add to his already significant paranoia. The world now saw magi as devils, being evil to the core that had to be eradicated the moment they were found. That same attitude extended even to inanimate things that merely roused the suspicion they might be related to them. The word 'magic' itself was taboo.

The only real benefit to him was that he would have a better understanding of Hez after translating the notebook.

"Dinner time," Angelina called through the door.

Claude snapped back to the present.

"Coming!" he answered and got up.

He cleaned his desk, hid everything that needed hiding, and went downstairs.

His father was sat at the table this time.

"Go get the wooden chest in the carriage," he said when he saw Claude.

The Ferds didn't own a carriage or any horses. Morssen was not about to spend so much money to get them, nor any of the money needed to feed the horses and maintain the carriage. It simply wasn't worth it. He didn't need one. He didn't leave town often enough to make it cheaper than just paying for transport, and the town hall had its own he could just borrow. He was entitled to their use thanks to his position, anyway. He used them so infrequently that he didn't mind their weathered states either. If anything, their weathered looks made him appear more down-to-ground, or so he thought, at least. That was the reason he gave for always driving them himself, but Claude knew better. He was just too stingy to pay for a coachman.

Today was one of those days the carriage had come home. A coachman would come pick it up sometime in the night and come pick his father up again the next morning. Claude checked in the back and found a wooden chest longer than he was tall. It was very thin, though, and it didn't weigh much.

He shrugged and took it inside.

"What's inside?" he asked, putting it down next to his father.

"Have a look. It's a gift for you."

A gift?

Try as he might, Claude was still just a child, his excitement was not something he could readily control. He opened the chest a little too enthusiastically for his dignity, and saw inside, nestled in straw, a black matchlock.

Chapter 46 - Choice for the Future

"Is... is it for me?" Claude asked, reaching for the musket and lifting it out of the straw gingerly.

He would never have expected it. He had told his father he wanted his own musket, but it was only something he'd brought up in passing, he never thought he'd actually get one. His father didn't like weapons, especially firearms. He believed it made people too prone to resort to violence to solve problems they ought to with their wits.

Why, then, would he buy Claude a musket? It wasn't second hand, it was fresh out of the factories, which meant it cost five or six crowns. Why would his stingy father buy him such an expensive thing? What were the strings?

His father would have burnt the gun in the fireplace if he'd know what thoughts were racing through his son's head.

He didn't know about his son's 'reincarnation'. He had decided the paths his children would take in their lives as far as he could. Arbeit was set on the path in the bureaucracy, and Claude was to go into the military. For that he would need to be capable with weapons.

Life in the military was tough, even more so in times of war, and even worse if one ended up on the frontlines. Much of one's survival was down to luck, but his father was determined to make sure his son had to rely on luck as little as he could possibly get away with.

However it may seem, Morssen loved his sons. He wasn't sending his second son into the military to die. He wanted him to survive, and, if possible thrive, away from any wars, which was why he had specifically arranged for the boy to be sent to Tyrrsim, and to place him under his godfather.

He was reminded of his decision when the boy asked for a musket, and decided it was time for him to begin training and familiarising himself with a personal firearm. He was indeed usually a very stingy man -- he preferred to think of it as being thrifty -- but he was not going to stand on money when it could improve his son's chances of survival. He spent without reserve to send his first son to highschool, so he would do the same in buying his second a firearm and making sure he got the training he needed.

He smiled at how 'unlike his usual self' he sounded and added more tobacco to his pipe. He preferred a specific plantation on Nubissia's tobacco. It was the only regular thing on which he was willing to splurge. It helped his conscience that he felt it was expected of someone of his station to understand the refinements of good tobacco. It was also a very handy thing when he was interrogating someone over their financial journals. It made for a great excuse to drag something or a question out, to let people stew a bit as he worked on his pipe.

"Like it?" he asked, very happy with how gingerly his son stroked the gun, inspecting every little thing about it as if examining a fine young lady.

"Yes! Thank you, Father!" Claude's face split in half and a row of white teeth grinned at him, "But, why you would buy me a musket? I thought you hated weapons?"

Morssen's content smile faded.

"I do hate weapons, and so does your older brother. We're bureaucrats. We're used to solving problems with our wits.

"You're different, Claude. You're a physical boy. You're in the physical course in school too. You're also about to graduate in a year. Like it or not, you have to make a choice when you turn 18. You must either find a normal job here in town, and stay a peasant for the rest of your life, or work towards becoming a dignitarian.

"Your grades don't let you join the town hall and train to become a bureaucrat like your brother and I. You'll have to get first place in your entire grade this year and next year if you want to change that.

"Otherwise you have to join the military. You could either join the army or the navy, but I'd suggest you join the army. The navy is very risky.

"You've already shown you're good with weapons, I mean half-dead or not, you hunted a snake at 16! The military is the logical choice, so I want you to be as prepared as you can be, and learning to use a musket properly and getting lots of practice with it is the most important part of that."

Claude stared at his father. The last thing he expected this evening to bring forth was a serious discussion about his future with his father.

He didn't care about the castes one bit. He didn't care about being a dignitarian, it made no difference to him. He could always just leave the country if he didn't like how things were going. He was resolved to live his life the way he wanted, regardless of what the kingdom's laws said.

He, and his three friends, for that matter, wanted to become adventurers and travel the world -- learning all there was to learn about its mysteries. Foremost among them magic.

Now his father was seriously thinking about sending him to the military?

"Umm.. Father... If I don't enlist in the military, can I just stay a peasant and remain in Whitestag?"

Only a fool would leave the town to become cannon fodder for some noble. He could live very comfortably here. Even as a peasant, he would have a decent life since his father occupied one of the top positions in the town's government.

"Sigh… It's not that simple, Claude. All physical course students are considered reserves. Even if you don't actively join the military, you can easily be drafted if a war breaks out. You won't have a choice in the matter. And unlike when you enlist, you will have absolutely no choice in where they send you. Not that you have a terrible amount of choice even when you enlist freely, but still. Plus, if you join now and work hard, you might be an officer by the time any war breaks out, which'll give you much better chances at surviving."

What? He was already a reserve?

No wonder they were basically receiving bootcamp-lite at school! They were being prepared for their inevitable enlistment or draft!

He'd always thought the setup was very strange, eccentric even, but he'd never expected it to be this bad! He had at least been positively inclined towards it before, thought that it was well-suited to the state of the world, and gave people the skills they needed to make informed decisions in their life and make a success of them. Now? He was paying for his own military recruitment!

"The military isn't that terrifying, you know," his father said through a puff of smoke, "You've grown so much since you recovered from your illness. You take care of your little brother and sister, you help your mother diligently, and your grades are really improving. You even like to read now. I am very proud of the son you've become, even though you and your brother still..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes sad.

"Anyway, we're talking about your future. Your mother and I obviously don't want you to leave us, but life doesn't give us much choice. I would love nothing more than have you all stay here, maybe in one of our apartments, even when you start a family. But I'm your father, so I also want you to be successful and climb higher than I've gotten. I don't want you to be just a peasant. I don't want that to be the limit of your ambition. You won't have a hard life as a peasant, but the kingdom is only several stone throws away from war right now, and if you're a peasant when that happens, you will be conscripted and I can do nothing about that. Since this is going to happen one way or another, I want to get you in the military ahead of time so you can set yourself up in as safe a place as possible. I've arranged to have you placed in Tyrrsim with your godfather, Viscount Jerrihausen Van Cruz. It's far away from the way, and if you work hard and stand out, he can keep you from being transferred to the frontlines."

At least his father's made good plans, Claude thought. He agreed that war was just around the corner, and inevitable. He'd never heard about this godfather though. He couldn't see how his father got so close to a viscount. Not only was the man a noble, but his title put him at least four ranks above his father even in the bureaucracy.

"This all happened when I was still young, before I earned the dignity needed for my elevation. I was serving as a peasant scribe in the town hall. I received my fourth commendation after submitting yet another excellent proposal to my superiors, and the viscount was the one tasked with handing it to me.

"You were born on the day he arrived in town. I offered him the chance to name you, and he named you Claude, after a comrade of his who'd died on the battlefield. He came to see you often while he was in the prefectures. We only have occasional contact now, about three letters a year."

So that was how it was. Going to Nubissia might not be such a bad idea, in that case.

Chapter 47 - Father's Plans

Claude and his friends left the school through the wall again. This time, they had their lunch at school first. Like Borkal had said, they had money, but they shouldn't blow it. They should also avoid becoming spoilt and be in ruins once they run out of money.

Borkal was right, of course. Even Eriksson, who constantly pestered them to eat something delicious in town, didn't fight him too hard.

The four were headed for the slum's end of the docks, for Mock's Fishing and Boating Tools. The new owner, Wakri, renamed it, but it was still doing the same business. Claude could still get the munitions he needed there.

He and his father had a long chat the previous night about his future. His father had indeed put a lot of thought into his plan for the boy's future. He didn't have anything to say about it and eventually accepted what was in store for him.

He didn't really have a choice though. He couldn't just find a random job and live off the wages like he might have been able back on Earth. This world was completely different and a man didn't have much freedom. For one, he couldn't leave his hometown easily. He wasn't technically barred from travelling, but he would be stopped at almost every checkpoint and intensely scrutinised and interrogated.

And if war broke out while he was away, he might just end up in prison on suspicion of espionage. What was a peasant doing so far from home, after all? If that happened, he'd be lucky to net just a decade in a labour camp. If he was unlucky, he might be there for the rest of his life, which had as good a chance of being rather much shorter than he wanted than being long.

You had to earn your freedoms with service. Only dignitarians and nobles got some measure of control over their lives.

Nubissia, in contrast, was a harsh, sparsely-populated place. That said, most of the 'war' there was against the natives rather than other, well-armed and well-trained royal militaries.

He was the region's viceroy's godson, which ensured he would be well-treated if he was dispatched there. He could at least be certain to not get the shit jobs the few unlucky souls that did die there, were doing at the time. He suspected he would probably be put in with his godfather's personal guard, and what could be a safer place than a few metres from the viceroy?

His father also believed it would be a great opportunity for his son to get even further into the man's good graces. If he impressed the man, he would have little trouble climbing up the ranks to a very respectable position in just a couple of years. And if he got that done, then it would take far less than 15 years for him to become a dignitarian. Maybe even just half that time. Even if he didn't fight in the thick of hit, if his godfather favoured him, he would give him ample opportunities to gather merits.

He wasn't too worried that the war would affect the colony, either. The war was unlikely to bleed that far, but even if it did, the kingdom had a large military presence, enough to wipe the other colonies clean before the enemy could send a sizeable force over.

He didn't doubt the war would be bad, it wasn't even certain the kingdom would win, but it would be far away from his son. Personally, of course, he didn't doubt the kingdom would win in the end, but the price it would pay didn't bear thinking about.

Once the war was over, however, everyone involved would be stuck rebuilding and recovering for at least a generation. Claude would be elevated at just the right time to make the most of the peace, and would have avoided the war. He could choose what to do with his life then.

Morssen did his best to work out every little detail to perfection, but he could only do so much. Everything still depended on his son making use of chances he'd given him.

"This is one of the newest designs. It cost me six crowns," Morssen had said with a pained expression, "I asked Rublier to buy it for me. He was going to get a cheap one for Boa, but I talked him into getting a decent one for his son as well."

"Wait, Boa's father bought him the same musket?" Claude asked.

His father nodded.

"Yes. Boa is also going to enlist. His father considered paying the non-enlistment tax, but if the war gets as bad as we think it will, that won't be enough to keep him out of the draft. He plans to pull a few strings with his connections to get Boa into the logistics arm of the army."

Snakes and rats really all did have their burrows, Claude thought.

"I have a few conditions for giving you this," his father said, pointing at the musket.

The first was that Claude was not to use it in or near the town; the second, that he would pay for his munitions with his own money; and third, that he would not show his weapon off to other people. He didn't want this to put the townsfolk in danger.

Claude agreed without hesitation.

He was not going to hold back in front of his friends, though. Welikro and Eriksson stared at him, green-eyed. Eriksson darted home right after school to pester his father for the same musket.

"How can I get more accurate?" Claude asked.

"You just have to keep shooting. You'll eventually get a feel for the musket and the way the round behaves in the air."

That was not good enough. Wero said he had to shoot with his eyes closed, which was bad enough, but now all he could do to get better was practice until he somehow got the hang of it?

He didn't doubt Welikro felt the same when he started practice. He was living proof that it worked though. He got the deer right in the head in the middle of the night, after all.

He guessed he had little choice but to practice. Aiming wasn't that hard, in principle. You just had to line the aiming points up with your target, adjust for the offset between the points and the barrel, and for the bit off lift that happens between you closing your eyes and pulling the trigger, and get used to guessing it, and the distance to your target, correctly to make the appropriate adjustments.

Just like the story of the old oil peddler[1], 'it was all practice'.

If it really was all just practice, then it would be very hard to describe how to shoot accurately. He just had to develop a feeling for how to do it, and for how it was done with his specific gun.

He didn't like it one bit though. It was too inefficient, too vague, too without a defined process and technique. It was basically 'just keep doing it and you'll figure it out eventually'. He'd thought about it hard for the whole day, and finally came up with what he believed was a more sensible approach. That said, he still had to practice, which was why he was going to the docks now.

[1] This is from an allegorical poem written by an ancient Chinese scholar, Ouyang Xiu. It is commonly known as 'The Archer and the Old Oil Peddler'.

Chapter 48 - Buying Bullets and Gunpowder

When Claude and Borkal said they wanted to buy rounds and gunpowder for their muskets, Wakri whistled. He did it very rarely.

"Your fathers really spoil you too much. They were actually willing to buy the newest standard issue muskets for you. The Aubass Mark 2 is one of the most advanced muskets on the continent. I heard can even kill huge boars."

Wakri was quite the musket enthusiast. He knew the musket like the back of his hand.

"Did the range improve with the new model?" Claude asked.

He believed the technology was going in the wrong directions. What was the point of making weapons that could shoot further but could still only shoot a round or two a minute?

"Of course. The earliest guns could only shoot 200 metres and were only accurate up to about 80. The newest model can shoot 380 metres. That's the furthest anything's been able to shoot, ever. The Mark 1 could only shoot 360 metres, so they improved that by twenty metres in just one model!" Wakri said emotionally.

Claude realised he was talking to a wall.

"I don't understand why they want to make them shoot any further in the first place. What does it matter that you can shoot that far if you can't hit anything and you probably only get to shoot once in the time it takes someone to cover that distance? Why not make them shoot more accurately and faster instead?"

Wakri laughed.

"Kid, I knew you knew nothing about muskets the moment you started speaking. Range is king when it comes to muskets. You'll understand once you've fought your first battle. Battle aren't just charges, most of the time people are marching towards one another in steady step, so if you have 380 metres, you get five or six shots in before you get into accurate range. And it doesn't really matter that the shots aren't accurate at that range. You're not the only one shooting, and you're not shooting at just one man. You're shooting at a whole line, so even if you miss your target, you're bound to hit someone next to or behind him. And if you've got five hundred men standing abreast of you doing the same thing, you kill a lot of them even with inaccurate fire.

"Accuracy is all fine and good when you're hunting, but it doesn't really matter when you're fighting in formation with hundreds of other men against hundreds on the other side, also in formation. In those situations, range is all that matters. If one side can shoot a hundred metres farther than the other, that side will win."

"Then why would the side with a shorter range just stay in place? Can't they just break up their formation and approach in loose groups so the enemy has nothing to shoot at?"

"That's why you don't really know much about warfare either," Wakri said, shaking his head, "We just said that matchlocks are only good in volley fire. If you break up your formations, you make it impossible to do just that.

"A single musket is nothing on a battlefield with thousands of men."

Claude gave up. He'd have better luck with a plant. No wonder the continent's countries put so many restrictions on peasants. They were so stupid on average that they really were only good as cannon fodder.

Earth also used volley fire in its era of musketry. Units would just line up facing one another and shoot until one side lost so many men the survivors ran away.

Claude remembered watching a film about several such wars. The red-fir army's soldiers marched to their enemies at a brisk walk, all of them dressed completely in red. Even when they came under heavy fire, and were in range to shoot back, their commanders wouldn't issue the order to return fire. So they just marched on.

In the end, the sheer weight of approaching men forced the enemy to break, which point their commander finally let his men shoot. He let his men fire their two volleys, each of the front two ranks firing, then had them stuff their bayonets into their barrels, and charge.

Claude had also read a newspaper article about a conflict at the border of the kingdom that resulted in nearly one thousand casualties. Back then, he didn't understand why the number was so high. He did now. There were no trenches or battlements. The soldiers on both sides merely marched to their deaths. Even if the kingdom were to win the war, it might not necessarily be able to recover before someone else came along and smashed it.

His father had said that even if the kingdom didn't suffer a crippling defeat, peace negotiations would hardly be forthcoming. Either side would only surrender on the brink of complete collapse. It was completely possible that there would be a generation of peace after the war, there'd be no one left to fight another one!

"Why are you spacing out? Have you decided how much you want to buy?"

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking--" Claude turned to Wakri. "--What does a round and gunpowder for the Aubass Mark 2 cost?"

"The rounds are cheap, just two fennies," Wakri said, "We have three gunpowders for the musket. One can get your round out to 200 metres, another can shoot up to 300 metres, and the third can push the round up to the full 380 metres. They go from cheapest to most expensive in that order."

They even had pellet powder?

"How much?" Borkal asked.

"The first one, the one you bought last time, is one sunar for a package, the second is two sunars for a package, and the third is five sunars for a package."

One 'package' had enough gunpowder for ten shots.

"Then I want the pellet--" Borkal began but Claude shoved his hand over the boy's mouth.

Was he crazy? Did he want to spend a whole thale on just 200 charges? He was told to shoot at least thirty rounds a day for decent practise, at that price a thale's gunpowder wouldn't even last him a month!

"The first gunpowder, please. The guns are only for beginners, which we are, so there's no point in buying gunpowder we can't put to good use," he said, shooting a furious glare at Borkal.

Wakri nodded with a smile.

"You might know nothing about muskets and warfare, but you at least have a sensible head on your shoulders. Start with short ranges, master them, then slowly increase the range as you master each step."

Borkal frowned for a few moments, then nodded with a spendthrift sigh.

"Okay, I'll get ten package of the first kind, then. And enough rounds, too!"

Wakri disappeared into his back room for a moment, then reappeared a moment later with a small scale. He rolled a barrel out from under the counter with 'Type 1' stamped on it and opened it. He scooped out and weighed the gunpowder before packing it into small paper bags.

The weight units were a strange mix of what would have been called 'eastern' and 'western' units back on earth. The most commonly used weight was the catty -- about half an earth kilogram. The tael was smaller, about ten to the catty. The gram was next, at ten to the tael. The decacatty was the first step above the catty, ten to the decacatty as the prefix might suggest, then there was a hectocatty another order up from the decacatty, but there was no kilocatty, just a tonne. Tonne was used almost exclusively to measure ship cargo, however.

Gunpowder was measured and sold in 'packages', which was enough gunpowder for ten musket shots. The standard ration given to the average footman for a battle was three packages, just thirty rounds' worth of gunpowder. Very few men usually actually used up their gunpowder, even in long battles. Most didn't because they were either dead or broken long before, and the rest because the enemy was dead or broken long before. It was even rather common for many, if not quite the majority, of dead soldiers to still have all three of their packages unopened, to have died without ever firing a single shot.

The standard musket used one tael and one gram of gunpowder per shot, so a package was about a catty, a tael, and seven or eight grams.

The packages were made of oil paper, and, once filled, Wakri wrapped them along with the rounds in a linen pouch, one for each boy, and put them on the counter. The two paid and Claude headed to the shelves to look for more magic stuff.

Chapter 49 - Flipper

The things on the wooden shelves were as disorganised as usual. But Claude had come to get something with value others couldn't tell. He picked up every item and scrutinised it carefully before putting it down again. His carousel lasted so long Borkal eventually call out to him to finish up, sick of waiting.

He could not look through each item individually, there were simply too many. He'd already run through a hundred items, and covered just three small shelves. Not to mention the time, he was also running out of mental energy, rapidly. There was also the fact that he would become suspect if he kept this up. Wakri didn't know about magical items, but he was an astute merchant. If he realised Claude was searching for something intently, he would milk him dry for anything he chose to buy.

He told Borkal he could go -- he himself still had to look for a toy for his little brother -- then retreated to a corner of the shop and swept his eyes across the shelves as he concentrated, willing his mental energy into motion. He hoped something would react, though what reaction he might get, he didn't know.

The first shelf remained unmoved, but two items on the second reacted. The first glowed a soft green, the other darkened slightly. The third shelf had its own reaction; two blue pulses splashed off its surface.

Claude immediately let go of his concentration and clutched up the reactants. The item that had glowed a soft green was a small wooden plaque. It had an odd appearance, a black-brown surface of the plainest hue, and it was oily. It reminded Claude somewhat of the lock pendants that were an occasional find back on earth, but those were made of jade, gold or silver.

The second was a dagger -- again of the plainest appearances, save for a bone scabbard. It must have belonged to a sailor. He had probably lost it during a duel of pawned it in hard times. Either way, it had been with the shop for some years -- a layer of dust covered one of its sides.

The third was a quill holder. It had the shape of a leaping fish, mouth open to hold the quill. The world had countless writing utensils, but quills and pencils reigned supreme. Quills much resembled their earthen namesakes in function, but much more pens in appearance. They were copper- or silver-tipped painted wooden sticks, essentially.

The quill holder was quite small for its function, but was much more intricate-designed. Its base splashed dramatically like the ocean surface, out of which leapt the fish. No doubt it was intended for use aboard ship, most likely by the captain. It even had two screw holes by which it could be fastened to the desk, so as to not fly off its place in rough waters.

Claude did not spend much time on the three items, however. He instead swept his intent gaze across the shelves once more, confirming he had missed nothing, then walked to the storeroom to find Wakri.

His three friends awaited him outside by an overturned flipper. It was a small boat, about four or five metres in length, and two across. Fore and stern curled up. They were used mainly as lifeboats on ships. Each could carry 20, or even 30, people. Most of the proper merchant ships had a crew of 50-60, and would carry 2 flippers.

This flipper, thus, was quite large, at five metres and some 2.8 across. It had a hole below the water line and four boards were severely cracked too close to the water for comfort.

"Probably hit a reed?" Claude half-asked, "Were they blind? How can you miss a reef? Or anything else big enough to do that? On second thought, rowing would not give them enough force to suffer that kind of damage from a collision."

"It's a reef, alright. You remember the merchant vessel that reefed third month of this year? It's one of that one's flippers. The crew were so panicked they dropped this one right on the reef, full of men.

"Luckily Flying Spear saw the ship and came to help. The poor sods were stuck in town for two months. I think they left, cargo and all, on the next ship to pass by. Only the ship's hull is left, and it's rotting away quickly."

"Can it still be fixed? Wouldn't you have to replace most of the hull? It might even be more expensive than just getting a new one."

"Don't even bring it up. It was a mistake buying this thing!" Wakri barked, kicking the ship as he came out of the shop behind Claude, "The damned bastards who sold it to me had it upright so I could only see the hole. I thought I would only need to swap out the sections of board there and it would be right as rain. I only saw the other problems when I flipped it over later to get to work!"

"How much did you pay?" Eriksson asked.

"...A crown," Wakri murmured.

He'd expected to repair it for about another crown, and to sell it for three, making him a nice half-cost profit. With the extra cracked boards, however… Even if he took it apart and sold the pieces for all they were worth, he would, at best, get three thales, more likely just two. If he factored in the labour, he would definitely not get more than 2 thales out of it.

"Your purchase will be one thale and five riyas," Wakri said, still holding Claude's shopping, "I give you a good price since you're a regular."

Borkal jumped, "We came because we trust you! What is this about one thale and three riyas? Do you want us to never come again?"

Claude didn't know what to do with the two. He was fine with Wakri's price, but then he knew they were magic items, and thus worth far more than anyone might think. Borkal, however, did not, and was convinced the price was all but robbery for such simple odds and ends.

"He's right," Eriksson chirped in, looked at the dagger, "It's just a normal dagger, why would you even want to buy it?" he asked Claude, "You could get a brand new one from the sailors for just two riyas!"

Wakri smiled bitterly, "You can't put it that way. The dagger looks normal, sure, but it's an antique."

"Seven riyas at best!" Eriksson retorted, snatching it from Wakri's hand and unsheathing the small blade, "It's only a common mithril dagger. If Hans can make an even better one for just a thale."

Borkal stared at Claude.

"Why do you want a fishbone dagger?"

"You know my dad doesn't like weapons. We don't even have a short-sword or a hunting knife. I had to borrow Wero's knife and Eyke's dagger on the island. I thought that since I have a musket now, I need a knife."

Wakri suddenly felt desperate. His father bought the dagger from an old sailor. This was the first time someone showed any interest in it.

"Fine, fine!" he said, finally, "Seven riyas."

He bet his father paid less for it, so he was still making a profit. Better to earn a little than nothing at all.

"And the plaque and quill holder?" Borkal pushed.

"This should be for ship's use," Eriksson commented as he plucked the quill holder from Wakri's hands as well. "It's old, and Bark's bookstore sells one very similar for just three riyas. And the plaque isn't in the best of shape. I remember the merchant ship of which I saw the inside one time had door plaques very similar to this one. It can't be that expensive either."

"Fine! I'll give them to you for another three riyas! Deal?"

Claude smiled and nodded.

"Deal."

Wakri turned to head back into the shop with the money Claude just gave him, but Eriksson stopped him.

"How much for the flipper?"

"What?" Wakri flipped around smartly on his heels.

"One cro--. No, four thales!." Wakri half-shouted.

Wakri felt the urge to slap himself on the face. Why did he tell the brats about the flipper? His story was blown. He could have earned more, at least enough to cover the cost.

Chapter 50 - Eriksson's Little Fishing Boat Dream

"Wait, one second," Borkal said as he pushed Eriksson out of the way, "What are you thinking, Eyke? Why would you buy a broken flipper? There's such a huge hole in the middle and the entire bottom is broken! Even if you're buying it for cheap, you still have to repair the hull. Only the frame can still be used!"

Eriksson nodded. "That's exactly what I'm after."

Eriksson raised two fingers at Wakri.

"Two thales. If you don't like it, pretend I didn't bring it up, Uncle Wakri."

Wakri smiled painedly.

"Just a little more... You can't let me make such a huge loss..."

"I don't have the money," Eriksson said, shaking his head, "Two thales is the best I can do. If you don't want it, forget it. I only want the frame. It isn't worth fixing. You'll only get two or three thales if you dismantle the thing and sell the wood, and that doesn't even count the cost of doing that. I doubt you'd earn more than half my offer."

Taking boats apart was a skilled profession in Whitestag. A shipmaker usually brought two or three apprentices with him to dismantle boats as a side job. But only with their skills could one reuse an intact frame. A common, unskilled brute would, in the best case, remove an essential part when dismantling a ship or break something off.

Usually, only larger vessels were worth dismantlement. A flipper was a small vessel, but the frame was still useful. Wakri was worried that if he tried to dismantle it himself without hiring a shipmaker, the frame would be turned into nothing but junk. But it would be too expensive to hire a shipmaker. It was as Eriksson had said, the amount he could sell the material for would not even cover the costs.

"Just sell it. Others will eventually find out you made a bad trade if you keep this here. You'll lose reputation. If you can buy such an invaluable flipper, wouldn't it cast doubt on everything else's quality?" Claude added.

It must be exactly what the man was worried about, because he was ash-pale. He waved his hand in surrender.

"Fine! Two thales. But please, take the thing away as soon as you can."

"Will do. I'll get someone to pick it up in the afternoon," Eriksson said as he handed the man two thales, "I have to go back to class first, though. If someone asks, tell them I bought it and am just leaving it with you for a while."

The four returned to school.

"Eyke, why did you buy that old thing?" Borkal asked, unable to contain his obvious curiosity..

"You've seen the wavepiercer at my family's jetty, right?" Eriksson asked, drawing out the moment.

A wavepiercer was a common fishing boat. They were mostly carried on bigger ships and dropped at the deep-sea fishing grounds. They were usually seven meters long and two meters wide. Each had a small mast and sail, and it was normally crewed by ten people, usually, one helmsman, six rowers, a sailsman, the commander and a netter.

The boats were only deployed once fish were found and were responsible for casting the nets. The larger ships had two, while the smaller just one.

Altronis' jetty had one, broken, wavepiercer. It had apparently rammed into bedrock near the shore because of the strong currents. Nobody was harmed, but the keel was cracked, completely useless. It was in the same state as the flipper, and it would cost too much to repair it.

"So you want to use this one's keel to replace that wavepiercer of yours'?" Borkal suddenly asked. "Wait, the frame is only five meters long. Isn't it a little too short?"

Eriksson shook his head.

"No. I'm not trying to fix the wavepiercer. I want to build a third small fishing boat from parts salvaged from the two, one like Old Sunny's."

"Actually, you didn't realize that, apart from the flipper's keel, its whole frame is still intact. I just have to take off the boards and use the better ones from the wavepiercer," Eriksson explained confidently.

"Well, we'll need to install a wheel, folding mast, split the boat in three, add the roofing, and so on. But we have old materials in the storeroom. If we need to, we can also use the parts from the flipper or the wavepiercer and resize them to our needs. There's no need to buy them. The only thing I have to think about is the work.

"I'm sure you don't know that Uncle Pegg used to be a boat repairman in his younger days. He stopped working on it when he hurt his leg on the water. He's still handy with the hammer though. He's even offered to fix up the wavepiercer for free if we can just find him a keel. He can't stand watching broken ships just sit there on the shore.

"My dad had already bought a new ship though. I'm sure Pegg will be glad to help out."

"Will your dad not scold you?" Borkal asked.

"No... If I ask him to buy me a gun, he might just ignore me. But I'm sure he'll approve of me building a fishing boat. I can even get him to pay the manpower to remodel it for me."

Claude laughed. Captain Altroni's love for bragging meant he would definitely let himself to that. If Eriksson succeeded, the captain could brag about his son's capabilities in town. Which ship captain actually had a son that owned his own fishing boat at just sixteen? If Eriksson really managed it, his father would definitely show it off for a long time.

They got back into school and Claude hid his purchases in his desk's drawer and got ready for fencing class.

The class taught the three basic swords, namely, the rapier, the two-hander, somewhat like the claymore or zweihänder back on earth, and the shortsword. This world's rapiers were not that much different from their earthen counterparts. They were light and focused on stabs. The two-handed swords resembled Chinese seven-star swords. Their handles were a foot long and could fit closer to three hands than two. The shortsword was sharp and used mainly as a secondary weapon by the military.

Most of the academic students choose the rapier since it was favoured by the nobility as a 'weapon of grace and finesse' and didn't require great physical strength to use.

Physical students, on the other hand, leaned more to the latter two. Since the courses covered only the basics, most learned at least some of all three before choosing a specialty. Most of the refinements beyond the basics were learned through spars with coaches giving hints from the sidelines.

Claude preferred the two-handed sword since he had the strength to use it and liked its somewhat arrogant swings. Welikro was the strongest of the four, but he preferred the shortsword, like Eriksson, for its versatility. Eriksson used it because his father said it was the most useful aboard ships.

At least part of Welikro's reason was simple habit. He'd been playing with his father's military-issue shortsword even before he could walk properly and it simply felt the most natural in his hands. Not to mention that that meant his father could help him with his training. For both boys, the fact that the shortsword could be both weapon and tool meant a lot.

Borkal had yet to choose a weapon. He'd trained some with all three, but he was only barely average.

Their day ended with two periods of equestrian. But Claude and the others weren't attending. Eriksson was heading to the docks to get a few of their sailors together to fetch his new wreck.

Welikro went with Borkal to his home to fetch his gun. They would also go to Borkal's warehouses for a few targets before they were to pick Claude up with a carriage and head out of town to practice.

When Claude got home, he took the case out from under his bed and removed his musket gingerly. He'd forgotten to buy slow-match as well. He still had a couple good burns left in the one he had right now, but he should buy a new one within the next week or so. He also took out and refilled three powder horns.

The powder horns were exactly as their name suggested, the hollowed horns, usually of goats, used to store loose powder. They were ubiquitous before prepacked paper cartridges were invented, but they were still used quite widely even now. It was largely a matter of guesswork and practiced muscle memory how long the horn had to be tilted over the barrel to get the right amount of powder down it, but most of the horns could hold about one package of powder. The three horns thus gave him enough powder for thirty shots, if he didn't over powder the shots, which still happened more often than not.

The horns each had a carry sling attached via two copper rings burned into the horn which allowed them to be slung over the shoulder, ready for use at a moment's notice. Claude remembered Welikro had been wearing two small black cow horns on him during the trip. He only now knew they were his own powder horns.

The musket's box also had a large leather sack that looked much like a money pouch. A live knot closed off the top, and it was the rough dimensions of the gun.

Claude put 30 rounds into the sack. Best not to overdo his training until his shoulder got used to the recoil.

Chapter 51 - Shooting Practice

"Alright. Aim with both your firing points. Center them and stabilize your hands... Pay attention to the slow match. Close your eyes... Fire!"

Claude shut his eyes and pulled the trigger with Welikro's shout.

Click-hiss... Bam!

He felt the recoil through the butt flat against his shoulder. Surprisingly, the Aubass Mark 2's recoil wasn't as severe as he had imagined. It was much weaker than Welikro's Gally Mark 3's, which felt like being punched in the shoulder. If he wasn't prepared, it would already be great if he only got blown a few steps back. If he wasn't careful, he might just fall down.

Welikro didn't look at the targets at all. Instead, he came over and took Claude's gun and inspected it lovingly.

"What a great gun. I should've tried it first. When I watched you shoot, I realized you can use this without closing your eyes."

Huh?

"I was wondering at first why the flash pan would be so far from the stock. Look, its wooden stock is longer than usual, about a foot and a half away from the end of the breach. It keeps the sparks out of your eyes. Also, the stock can be placed more comfortably against your shoulders. The length also allows you to aim better with the two firing points.

"You've seen my musket. Its flash pan is close to the rear, so the firing points are a little too blurry when you're trying to aim because you have to focus directly in front of you instead of further ahead. Also, I noticed your new musket's flash pan's tightness is good. Not many sparks come out after you pull the trigger. You can shoot with your eyes open."

Welikro raised the gun and tried to aim it.

"Look, the pan is much further away. You really don't have to close your eyes. The stock really does feel much better. Oh, I forgot to ask, was the recoil bad?"

The two shook their heads.

Claude wasn't surprised about the flash pan being further forward. Ergonomically speaking, the muskets resembled modern guns far more than the older models.

Welikro weighed the gun and stood it up to compare it with his height.

"About a catty lighter than my old one and it's about 20 centimeters shorter. I remember my dad said the Aubass Mark 2s can also be fitted with a bayonet. Did yours come with one?"

Claude shook his head.

"No, I don't remember seeing anything like that. I wouldn't have bought the dagger if there were."

Borkal said the same.

"Aww… I wanted to see how they fitted the bayonets," Welikro said, stroking the barrel almost sensually, "Its straight and the muzzle is the same size, unlike mine. I heard these new muskets fit their bayonets around the barrel so it won't interfere with shooting."

Welikro's bayonet was not much different from a shortsword. It didn't have a proper hilt though. It had to be stuffed in the barrel, so it couldn't have a hilt.

"It's actually pretty simple. If you make a metal ring at the back of the dagger and you make a lock receptor on the muzzle of the barrel, you just fit it around the barrel."

"Let's go look at the targets now!" Borkal interjected impatiently.

The three walked to the targets 50 meters away. Welikro believed that since they were using type 1 gunpowder, they could fire up to 50 meters with reasonable accuracy, on the gun's part. They could also still see the targets clearly and account for the offset easily. They could also ignore other things like wind.

The targets didn't even have a scratch.

Claude had almost half expected round targets on his way to the range, but these were wooden boards cut in the shape of a wild boar and a goat. In school they used human shaped targets made of straw for their archery practise. They were fine for arrows since they stuck out to show where they'd hit, but rounds would pass right through either without leaving a trace if the target held, or blowing it to pieces if it didn't. Either way one couldn't see where one had hit exactly. So they switched to wooden boards when using muskets.

Welikro had heard his father say that for a line of 100 soldiers, hitting all ten targets was an excellent result. Eight out of ten was good, but six was only passable. Any lower than that and the unit would be punished.

The goat and boar targets Borkal got from his stores were actually products to be sold. Not many people bought them though; they only sold one or two a month. So, he used them for shooting practice instead.

"Where were you aiming?" Welikro asked.

"The center," Borkal said, pointing at a spot on the boar.

"I was aiming here," Claude said, pointing more or less where the heart ought to be on the goat.

Welikro checked for bullet marks in a practiced manner.

"This should be Claude's shot," he said when he found a bullet hole on the ground near the goat.

Claude looked at the hole and back at where he had aimed.

It was off by more than 30 centimetres top to bottom, and nearly a foot to the side! Well, he supposed it was better than Borkal's shot, since his could at least be found. Borkal's was nowhere in sight. It was possible his hand twitched the moment he fired, causing the bullet to fly off to who-knew-where. Good thing Claude's father had insisted they get well out of town before practicing, and not shoot back in the town's direction.

Borkal wasn't happy and he and Claude started reloading their guns. They poured gunpowder down the barrel from their horns, plopped the round it and rammed everything home with their ramrods. They flipped the muskets, primed the cock, and filled the flash pan. The slow match was still smouldering away so they just checked it was still firmly in place and far forward enough that it would actually hit the firing pan and aimed again.

Claude didn't close his eyes this time. He saw the cock flip down and shove the slow match into the waiting gunpowder. The powder hissed for tenth of a moment, then he felt the gun shove itself against him with a bang and a massive puff of white smoke. Borkal fired a few moments later, just in time to still be able to see his target around the edges of Claude's expanding cloud of smoke. He was quick to complain about Claude shooting too early, which made him miss.

The targets were still untouched, but Claude saw a brand new hole right next to his goat on the tree, barely a finger from the board's edge. He was only off by 20 centimetres in total this time.

Borkal's shot could also be found this time, about half a metre from his target.

Claude compensated with his third shot and actually hit the target. He'd overcompensated, however, leaving his mark on the goat's butt instead of its chest. Welikro shook his head with a slight chortle. Borkal's shot was still far from his target.

Welikro brushed a point of paint where Claude had hit his goat so they'd know which were old and new next time.

Borkal lost interest after his tenth shot missed and handed his musket to Welikro to calibrate. He took the carriage back to the jetty saying he was going to find Eriksson.

The two boys left behind smiled wryly at the disappearing carriage. Borkal was smart, but he had remarkably little patience, perhaps because of his intelligence. He was used to figuring things out quickly and expected to get things right after just a few tries. When he didn't he got frustrated very quickly and gave up. It didn't help that he didn't have much interest in the physical stuff like fencing, archery, or musketry. Conversely, however, he could sift through an account book for hours on end without so much as blinking.

Welikro handled Borkal's gun with much more finesse than its owner. He had the offset narrowed by his tenth shot and started making corrections to the firing points. It took him only a further five shots to have the sites zeroed.

Claude had kept hitting the target every time since his first hit, though he had yet to hit the same body part for which he'd aimed. It also didn't help that the offset wasn't consistent. Sometimes it was to the left, sometimes to the right, sometimes it was in the middle, but a little high, other times a little low, sometimes a combination of one of each of the pairs.

Borkal returned about an hour after he had left, saying the flipper was with Eriksson. He and Pegg were busy baking it.

"Why would they need to bake it?" Claude asked.

"They're going to dismantle it. Some of the planks are held on with glue. They have to back it to break it down."

That reminded Claude.

"Ah, Boa, take me to the bookstore. I need to buy papyrus for target sheets. You won't have to bring the targets tomorrow. I'll give you some measurements. Have your carpenters make me two simple targets."

Chapter 52 - Target and Sight

Target practice continued the next day. Borkal complained when he drove the carriage over to pick Claude up that the targets he'd had him make would be that simple. It was just an erected rectangular wooden board nailed to a stick at the bottom.

"How many did you make?" Claude asked, ignoring his complaints.

"Asked them to make two, but they gave me four more. I've got six in all," Borkal answered.

"They're simple, but they aren't useful at all. The ones we used yesterday are more or less the same size as actual animals. You can put them in the forest to train, these won't train your eye to recognise animals."

Claude smiled.

"Don't worry. They're only half finished. You'll understand when I'm done."

Claude took out his sheets of paper and handed one to Borkal.

"Be careful, the back is glued. Stick it on the board."

The paper was cut into the shape of the boards, and had a bright red circle in the middle, with a number of larger concentric circles in black around it. Claude had about twenty of them.

Welikro looked at the targets and instantly knew what Claude was doing.

"Ideal targets," he said, "How did you get this idea?"

Claude only smiled.

"Try it first. We'll see if it's useful."

Welikro shot this time. It took him only two shots to get used to the musket. The third hit the red circle's rim. He coached Borkal thereafter on how to account for the offset he couldn't fix by tuning the site.

Borkal was much more excited this time. His shots didn't hit the red circle, but he was overjoyed to actually be hitting the target.

Their overall hit rate was far greater today than could be accounted for just by their greater familiarity with their muskets and shooting in general. Claude's new targets were effective after all. Even Welikro had been won over, and kept praising the red circles, especially how easy they made it to determine and adjust for a musket's offset. You just aimed for the very centre from a fixed platform, shot several shots and noted where they hit relative to the centre, for which you've aimed, and there you were, offset determined.

Claude wasn't boundlessly satisfied though. He didn't like the sights -- firing points, he reminded himself -- his musket used. They were just two metal rods on top of the flash pan's lid, and one metal rod sticking out to the side of the muzzle.

Of course, even modern sights weren't on the mark, but they were certainly far closer. The offset made it an impossible task to simply pick up a musket and shoot it accurately. One had to practice to get used to every individual musket's unique offset, not to mention that that ofseet was far greater than any 'modern' old world weapons.

Borkal finished at around the time Claude was beginning to seriously consider getting a blacksmith to make him breech-and-muzzle sights. Borkal had shot thirty times and scored 17 hits. He beamed at the result. He genuinely thought he had talent for shooting, so he tore off his target paper to show it off to Eriksson. He wasn't just proud of his shooting skills, he also had a business proposal for his friend concerning his papers. He wanted to take the papers into larger scale production.

"This is genius!" Borkal exclaimed, flapping his target enthusiastically, "it doesn't just make it easier to aim, it also make things much more long lasting! We could make a lot of money! Even if we don't, however, we'll still make good pocket money!"

Borkal was right. His family's firm only sold seven or eight standard targets a year. Most were bought by upper class townsfolk's children. The hunters and mountain folk had to practice as well, but they just used some random object. They'd rather spend the few fennies on alcohol.

The targets usually didn't last long though. They were usually made of scrap wood and broke easily. Even if they lasted, they were quickly so riddled it was pointless to keep using them.

Claude's targets, however, were of hardwood. And as long as it held up, which could be quite long, one could just drape a new sheet over the old holes to hide them after a couple of shots. They could also press the targets rather than hand-painting them. All they needed was a stencil.

"Fine, just tell me what you need. We'll start the business with all four of us," Claude caved.

Borkal made some quick mental calculations before he answered.

"If we each give a thale, that should be enough. We'll make 20 in the first batch and sell each with 30 sheets. We should be able to sell each for three riyas and still make a good profit, then."

One wooden target and 30 or so target papers cost only around one riyas to make. While selling one for three riyases wasn't a lot to ask, there was still two riyases of profit. It was a pretty worthwhile effort. Borkal really outdid himself with the calculations. It was too bad that it wasn't a daily necessity and not many people needed them, so they might not be able to make huge volumes in sale.

Welikro didn't have any other opinions about it. He believed that the targets Claude designed were great and it wouldn't harm him to invest some coin. So, Borkal happily went to the jetty to look for Eriksson to ask him for his silver thale.

Borkal drove the carriage away and Claude pondered how he would install a sight near on the muzzle. Welikro shot Borkal's musket a few more times before asking Claude what he was up to.

Claude shared his thoughts and Welikro wasn't surprised. He said the muskets had existed for six centuries and most people were already used to shooting the way they did, so nobody saw the need to add an extra sight and were content with the firing points. He believed Claude couldn't aim well simply because he lacked practise.

As the saying went, 'there is no point in describing ice to a summer bug'. Claude couldn't exactly use an example from his previous life. He asked him where he could find a good smith that could forge small things. Seeing Claude was intent on making his 'sights', Welikro recommended a smithy in the south of town. His father and he bought most of their equipment there.

Claude thought up his desired sight and made a simple model of it. He decided on the airsoft weapons' sights. A simple pair of rods on the breech and a single rod on the muzzle. He decided to fit the sights using rings that could be weld-fixed around the existing weapon.

He remembered a documentary on weaponry he'd seen as a teenager. It discussed how zeroing worked with the sight he had in mind. Sights couldn't be zeroed for all distances, one had to pick the distance most of the shooting would take place, and zero it for that by adjusting the two sights to as closely as possible align with the barrel and so the sight line and round-line intersected at the desired distance. Having remembered the documentary, Claude adjusted his sight design so he could adjust a middle pin in the rear sight so he could zero the musket for different ranges.

Borkal returned with Eriksson not long after Claude had finished his design. Eriksson looked gloomy. He said he didn't get to see his father the previous night as he had attended a friend's birthday party. Eriksson didn't meet him in the morning either because he'd set sail.

It was his nightmare. He'd been planning to get pocket money from his father to build his fishing ship, now he would get nothing for at least ten days, more likely a fortnight.

Eriksson said Pegg's payment could be delayed and he had most of the materials he needed. But he had to buy the adhesives and a bunch of other small-sale stuff, all of which would cost him three or four thales, which he now wouldn't have for a fortnight. He'd originally planned to borrow money from his friends, but when Borkal came running to him to tell him about their little business, Eriksson almost broke into tears.

Welikro eventually said Borkal could give the money he'd been keeping for him to Eriksson so he could finish his boat. Borkal also lent the boy some money.

Claude was completely ignored. They knew he'd spent his money on other stuff and had nothing left anymore, especially not now that what little he might still have left was going to be wasted on a new 'sight' for his gun.

Chapter 53 - Pointless Trivia

The smithy Welikro recommended was called Big Hammer. Rumour had it the first owner had the same nickname and had moved to Whitestag to avoid the war. He came to town a pauper, he could just barely afford a kiln and a few kilograms of iron. His workmanship was excellent though, and he was soon the favourite blacksmith in town.

His grandson, Mike, a burly and spirited man with a thunderous voice, ran the smithy now. The loose-standing kiln was now a massive, four-story furnace, and several smiths were constantly hammering one thing or another around it.

Welikro dragged Mike out of his corner. They couldn't have a normal conversation in that racket.

Claude handed his models to the man and described what he wanted to do with them. The blacksmith wasn't very interested, he only asked one question: whether Claude had the gun legally.

His attitude changed drastically when he heard who Claude's father was, however. He was suddenly very interested and smiled crookedly the entire time.

He meticulously inspected the previously-ignored models and made a few adjustments so they'd better fit the musket, and reassured it wouldn't be a problem to make them.

He cast plaster moulds of the models. He said it would take a week for the plaster to set and for him to cast and polish the final product. He quoted them a thale and seven riyas.

Claude just barely had enough to pay the man, and was now completely broke again. He had just three riyas left. Riches made for rich spending. He had one solution to his problem, however. He went and found Borkal later that afternoon and all but begged him to find a way to sell his shaliun.

According to what the others knew, he had two shaliuns, but he only wanted to keep one, so he was fine with selling his other.

"I've been spoilt with too much money!" Claude almost literally cried, "I didn't think much about it when I'd never had any money, but now I can't live without having some!"

Borkal rolled his eyes.

"Who asked you to buy so many things? You bought a bunch of useless trinkets for a whole thale. And another thale and seven riyases on useless bits of metal for your gun… No wonder you're out of money! Your father should give you a good scolding! Haven't you ever heard of a 'budget'?"

Claude covered Borkal's mouth.

"Fine, fine! It's my money, anyway! And you'll understand how useful those sights are when they're done!"

Borkal slapped Claude's hand away.

"Yeah right..."

"Why would I lie? You'll see when they're done! Just think about the targets. You weren't impressed with them either, until you saw them in action!"

"Fine, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But I'm not selling that shaliun if your sights don't prove every bit as useful as you've been bragging!"

Claude didn't practice with his guns for the rest of the week. There was no point training with the old sight if he was going to switch and have to get use to a new sight all over again in a week. And, now acutely aware of his poverty, he didn't want to skip his riding lessons and waste the money he'd spent on them -- even though it wasn't his money he'd spent.

Welikro wasn't too happy. He scolded Claude for lacking perseverance. Claude understood his view, but didn't share it. Welikro was even more frustrated by Claude's wimpy attitude because he thought the boy had a decent talent for musketry. It wasn't helped by the fact that he'd all but given up on Borkal. The little shit only wanted to hit the target somewhere, he had no interest in being any more accurate than that. He lamented that his father had bought him such an expensive musket, instead of he himself getting one.

But he could do nothing about Claude. If there was one thing Claude was, it was stubbornness. And Welikro was timid when it came to getting people to do things they didn't want to.

So, instead of heading for their private firing range after school, the four boys went to Eriksson's family jetty. It was very quiet, the only movement was the dancing shadows at one end where Eriksson's wreck was being baked.

Claude at first thought it was stupid to hang the boat over the fire directly. The smoke would stain the wood and affect its quality, but he noticed a thin metal sheet underneath the boat when he got closer. He heard a sizzle every now and again as the melted glue dripped from the boat onto the near red-hot metal sheet beneath.

No wonder it was considered a high-skilled job. The fire had to be kept at just the right temperature. Too hot and the glue burned into the wood, too cold and it didn't melt properly and drip away.

"Here, Claude," Eriksson shouted, standing next to his partly disassembled ship, covered in sweat and soot.

"Help us scrape the rest of the adhesive away before it cools. There's a scraper for you by that toolbox over there--" Eriksson jerked his head towards a small metal box on the ground about three metres from the group, "--Help me think how we should divide the ship inside as well. I want to put the tall mast on it, but the fore- and after-castle come up too high, so I don't know how to handle the folding."

Eriksson casually tossed them his huge conundrum.

The wavepiercer was seven meters long. Its mast was four tall. The mast was made in two pieces so it could be folded in two when being stowed. The flipper was just five metres long, however, and its fore- and after-castles came up much higher, which got in the way of the folding mast.

They couldn't cut the mast a bit shorter, however, since the sail wouldn't fit if they did.

"Best not use a folding mast on such a small ship. It's just going to cause problems," Claude said.

Eriksson really wanted a folding mast though.

The wavepiercer had a folding mast so it could be stowed away easily while having a bigger sail area for sailing at sea. It didn't need it, however, since it was only going to sail on the lake.

"Fine, we'll do a fixed mast," he caved unwillingly.

The four worked on the ship for the rest of the week.

"It's been a week now, Claude. We should go check on your 'sights'," Welikro said one afternoon while they were on their way to the dock again.

Chapter 54 - Three-dot Sight

He was right, a week had passed, Claude thought. He apologised to the two for being unable to help out today and headed for Big Hammer. All three of his friends joined him on the carriage, however. The last week had piqued their interest in his 'sights'. It was fine, he guessed, it wasn't a big deal, really. But his heart still pumped a bit faster, and not from excitement.

Mike saw them coming a block away and disappeared into his portion of the workyard. Mike was a burly man, less scrupulous people called him a brute, but his hands were dextrous when it came to his profession. The sights were the dark black of treated cast-iron, filed to smooth surface and sharp edges.

The front sight's pin didn't look perfectly straight, however, but a quick measurement dispelled Claude's suspicion.

Mike sighed more than smiled when Claude smiled happily and thanked him for his work. He always took payment before he worked, which ensured he didn't do work for nothing, but it also stressed him to get it right and keep the customer happy. This time he was working off the kid's designs, but the stress that relieved was made up for by who the kid's father was.

Both were happy this time, however. Claude with his sights, and the other that his customer was an easy one to please, and the two parted on excellent terms with promises of good prices and future patronage.

Eriksson couldn't wait to see the sights in action, and convinced Claude to go get his musket immediately so they could try the sights out at the jetty while they worked on the boat. Claude wasn't at ease with that, however. The jetty was pretty quiet right now, but there were still feet moving back and forth, plus it was still technically in town, and he'd promised his father he wouldn't fire the musket anywhere near town.

"Are you guys stupid? My house is by the lake! Can't you just shoot to the lake?" Eriksson asked angrily.

"But we won't have anything to shoot at..." Borkal objected.

"Just toss a piece of wood in the water you loghead!" Eriksson jolted.

Eriksson's house was far enough out of town to satisfy Claude's honour, so the four did just that.

Borkal was the one forced to pay the carriageman this time. The poor boy was the slowest to get off of the four and was caught by the carriageman. He wasn't too happy. They were supposed to split the fee, but the other three darted off to the shore almost before the carriage came to a stop.

Borkal finally waddled over, four sunars poorer, nagging in shouts and complaints as he went, but the three ignored him completely, Claude fiddling with his musket, and the other two watching him intently.

Claude oiled the barrel first, then slipped the rings on and tightened them with a screw at the bottom of each ring. He only tightened it enough so the sights wouldn't move at first. He had to zero the sights before he could do the final tightening. He did a bit of fine tuning, then tightened the sights a bit more. They were still not fully tightened, however, he wanted to shoot a few times and make any final adjustments before giving them the final tighten.

Welikro tossed a piece of wood into the lake, nearly losing his footing as he spun around after letting go. It was about 20 metres from the shore, so if they shot from a spot 30 metres further inland, they could hit the 50 metre mark.

"That's fine," Claude said, loading his musket.

The four assembled a haphazard rest for the musket out of stacked logs, and Claude got into position.

Claude was happy with his purchase. Even if the sights did nothing for accuracy, he felt much more comfortable shooting with them than the awkward, horizontally offset rods that came with the musket. He adjusted the rear sight to its lowest setting, which was incidentally the 50 metre mark, and took aim. A moment later the flash pan hissed and smoke billowed out of the barrel.

The shot splashed a thumb's distance behind the board. He cleaned the barrel and reloaded, took aim, and fired.

The first three shots all missed, but the fourth was on target. It shoved one end of the plank under the water and it bobbed backwards for about a metre before it stabilised again.

He turned around with a bright smile to his slack-jawed companions.

"How..." Welikro started, but his voice caught in his convulsing throat.

Even if he used his own musket, the one he knew like the back of his hand, he serious doubted he'd score a hit in just four shots. How then, did Claude do it with a gun he'd hardly fired fifty times, and with a brand new targeting system he'd only used for four shots?!

The only thing that could explain it, was that Claude didn't have to account for such a substantial offset between his 'sights' and the barrel. He had no doubt he would hit the plank in the end, probably in no more than seven shots, but he was damn certain his first four wouldn't be anywhere near as close as Claude's first three had been. Those were only near misses, and damn near ones at that!

"It's all the sights," Claude said, his voice dripping with pride.

He stuck his finger into the loose ground and drew a crude sketch.

"Just line the two sights up so the single pip in the front is in the back after you've adjusted the rear sight for the guessed distance to the target. Then just point them at the target and pull the trigger."

"Try it out, Boa," Claude said as he shoved his musket into the boy's hands.

The plank bobbed back another metre a few seconds later.

"Haha, I said I had talent for musketry, but you didn't believe me! I got it with the first shot! Hahahahahah!" the boy laughed exuberantly.

A damned fluke! Claude shouted in his head.

Eriksson was next, and he restored Claude's confidence in himself. He shot seven times... and missed them all. They were all only a thumb off though.

Borkal tried to play instructor, but he'd already forgotten how he'd scored his solitary hit. Claude jumped in to save the poor Eriksson's brain from melting at Borkal's conflicting and convoluted explanations.

It took him three more shots to finally hit the plank.

Welikro was last. He shot only once, and it splashed into the water a full two metres to the left of the plank.

"What's up?" Claude asked as Welikro handed him the gun, his face smushed into an awkward frown.

"I'll lose touch with how to aim with my gun if I use yours. It's easy and effective, mind you. They look horrible though."

"Sorry for teasing you, Claude," Borkal said from the side, "What did I call them again? Oh, right, these tights aren't a waste of money after all. Can you have Mike make another set? I want to put them on my musket, too."

"They're sights, not tights. Take your musket to Mike and ask him for the same things he made for me. If you want I can go along, but you're paying for the ride."

"You already skipped out on this one!" Borkal exclaimed, reminded of his involuntary poverty.

His eyes shone again a moment later however.

"Why don't you sell these sights? I can just imagine how people will scramble for them once you demonstrate how effective they are to the hunters."

Claude shook his head.

"I don't want to. You can if you want, but it'll be a big fuss."

"Why?"

"They're expensive, for one. They're not easy to make, either. Even Mike said it was quite challenging, and he's damn good at what he does. You think people who can already shoot pretty well with the sights that come with their muskets are going to pay for these new sights to have to learn to shoot all over again?

"Not to mention that my design only works on this particular model. You'll have to redesign the sights every time someone comes with an older model. And then because every individual musket is slightly different, you'll also have to calibrate and test the sights on every single one you fit. I'm damn sure not going to spend my whole day every day calibrating other people's sights.

"And then you have the issue that the older models have flaring muzzles. You can't get the rings around them, and the pips won't work on them either, you'll just be staring into the flared muzzle. It won't work until the new model muskets are more widespread, and even then I don't think it'll be worth it."

"Fine..." Borkal deflated.

Claude just shrugged. Everything he'd said was true, but his real reason for not wanting to propagate the new sights was that the biggest client would be the army. The sights were much easier to learn to use, which made them perfect for the military, who wanted to push recruits through training as quickly and cheaply as possible. It would also make marksmen more accurate, he he didn't want to make war any more deadly than he had to, and right now he didn't have to at all. In fact, the less he could affect how wars were fought right now the better, since he was probably going to find himself in the midst of one at some point in the relatively near future, and the less accurate his enemies were, the better.

And there was also the matter than the army was most likely just going to confiscate the design, or buy the rights to it for cheap, rather than do proper business with them.

Chapter 55 - A Disappointing Hunt

Claude continued practice and resumed his daily routine. He would do equestrian twice a week in school, go to the woods for musketry practice twice a week, and help Eriksson with his boat twice a week. Naturally, he only helped out in the simplest way possible and didn't touch any of the skilled work.

One Sunday, the three were dragged to the forest south of town to hunt by Borkal. They left excitedly, and returned empty handed and blister-footed. Claude collapsed into his bed the moment he got home.

It wasn't a problem with their accuracy. They never even got to shoot since they didn't come across anything. The land south of town was all farmland, all of which was guarded by dogs that caught or chased away anything dumb enough to wander into it.

Borkal blamed himself for picking such a horrible spot. It was far from ideal; it was a busy place where people came and went. He wasn't going to give up, however, and decided they would hunt to the west of town the next weekend.

But that was a matter for the next week. Currently, Claude had just popped the two blisters on his foot and put on some ointment. It made his feet cool and helped with the pain. Since his feet had recently exploded and he'd just gotten a new pair of shoes the previous week. He'd forgotten how new shoes chaved, though, and worn them for the trip.

There was a stack of mali paper on his desk, the result of Claude's work in recent days. He had been trying hard to recall everything he knew about flintlocks and jotting it all down so he wouldn't forget again. It was too bad he wasn't a mechanical or chemical engineer. Instead, he majored in computers and management and those were useless in this world.

If only he'd known he was to transmigrate, he might've learned more useful things...

He sighed and lay on his bed. He couldn't even be considered a military enthusiast, the only time he ever touched a gun was during his compulsory military training in his university days. He only fired ten rounds with a Type 81 and scored 63, ranking among the top in his class.

His boss once took him to an underground shooting range a few times a couple years later, run jointly by someone in the military and a civilian. He was only there to talk business though. His boss, on the other hand, had been a fan of anything related to shooting, be it at the range or in bed.

If only he had Wu's knowledge about guns... That man could describe everything about them so thoroughly and even make a flintlock with pipes and scrap material. He'd given one such gun to his boss, it looked just like the real deal. The old man even put it on a stand in his office… Claude was certain the old man would have loved to reincarnate there.

Most of his knowledge jotted down on those papers came from what Wu had told him, and his drawings were replicas of that gun the man had made. He didn't know if they were worth anything. The man had said it should work just fine, but it had never actually been fired.

Claude sometimes wondered whether he ought to try to get Mike to make him a few parts for the gun.

And even if it all worked out, he would still have the problem of the kingdom requiring all new designs to be certified. He might get away with adding sights, but any modifications to the barrel were a major issue.

All barrels had to be produced in kingdom-owned factories and every one had a serial number with a corresponding record in the factory. Should a musket be discovered without a serial number, even a dignitarian would be punished. Illegally forging a musket wasn't something the average citizen could afford to be caught doing.

Claude had another method at his disposal, however. He could just dismantle his own gun and use it's barrel. He abandoned the thought as soon as it came to him. A single barrel wasn't enough. He didn't know what he wanted exactly, so he would have to experiment and it would likely take several tries, probably a dozen or more, before he was satisfied with the results. A single barrel wouldn't survive long enough.

It didn't help that he wasn't much of a tinkerer to begin with. He was confident he could take the musket apart, but putting it back together was a whole other matter.

Maybe he could try it out eventually, but definitely not now. He didn't want to ruin his only musket only to be reprimanded by his father, so he forced himself to stuff the designs back into his drawer and took a quick bath before he collapsed in his bed again.

He found Eriksson smiling as if he had picked up a riyas on the way to school. Turned out he'd gotten some money. HIs father, had returned from his voyage and saw the flipper. He asked Pegg what was going on, and was very proud of his son and even decided to give the boy two gold crowns towards his project of his own accord.

The kind of ship the boy was building cost eight or nine crowns new, about 40 thales. A peasant only earned a thale a month, hell, even Claude's father only earned three a month. It would take them years to save up the money to buy a boat.

Eriksson used his Egret trip to buy the ship instead. He planned to give Pegg a crown for his work. Obviously Claude, Welikro, and Borkal didn't need money, they were friends.

The other crown would buy everything he still needed to finish the ship and square his debt with Welikro and Borkal. After everything was done, he would have little more than a thale left, which he was going to use to treat the four of them to another good meal.

If his guesses were correct, they would be done in a month. And with everything else sorted, the most pressing issue was finding an impressive name for his boat. The others quickly darted onward to the school so Eriksson could think in peace and quiet. Well, truthfully they just didn't want to be prodded to join his search. They could suggest whatever name they wanted and he would still be dissatisfied. Nothing was good enough for his boat.

Claude's days were uneventful. He either shot more with his gun, helped work on the new ship, or brainstormed ways to further improve his musket. He made sure to jot his notes down in Chinese logographs so no one else could read them.

Borkal's sights came a week later. Mike did just as good a job on them as on Claude's. It took Claude only a few tries to get the sights fully zeroed. Borkal was not as studious a learner as Claude. He generally only shot a few rounds before handing his musket to Welikro.

Welikro always removed the sights so he could use the rods to aim, which irritated Claude because he'd have to re-zero them each time again. He eventually decided to teach Welikro to do it himself. It lead to Welikro being both the only one in the group that knew how to calibrate the sights and that didn't know how to shoot with them.

As promised, Borkal borrowed his family's carriage and the four left for the wilderness.

The town sat on the foothills of a long mountain range that stretched out to the west. The mountains were tall and the forests dense; a great place for hunting. Everyone knew it as the Lomiclin Mountains. No one knew for certain where the name came from, but the folklore was it was named after an evil dragon that used to live there.

Some magi slayed it apparently. The story wasn't recorded anywhere though, and no one really bothered since it concerned a feud between two shunned beings.

Borkal screwed up the trip again. Half their weekend was spent just getting there. They didn't catch much this weekend either. They only had a single turkey.

"Let's not rush it. We can go hunt in the wetlands when your boat is done," Eriksson consoled.

Chapter 56 - Hare Hunting

The days passed one after another and the weather gradually warmed. Claude's school uniform changed to a short-sleeved brown linen shirt and a pair of long black pants. The high leather boots he usually wore were also swapped for flat-soled ones. Girl's uniforms in middle schools weren't that much different from the boys'; the top was the same brown linen shirt, but the girls wore long black skirts instead of pants.

Many boys would flood the corridors during the 20-minute class breaks and stare into the girls' classrooms, hoping some of them would come out to show off their figures.

Claude had been in a rather annoyed mood as his father had lectured his mother about the leather shoes. For some reason, Morssen was being far stingier than usual. Claude was only 16 and still growing, so his mother bought him a pair of new shoes recently to replace his by-now-too-small feet. But the weather suddenly warmed a week later and the school had them switch to flat-soled shoes. Claude's were too small for him as well, so his mother bought him a new pair straight of those as well.

Morssen exploded that morning because his wife 'didn't budget their spending properly'. He complained she had neglected to notice a huge problem: she bought Claude a new pair of high-soled boots just ten days before they were scheduled to switch to flat-soled ones. That wasn't his biggest problem, however. Claude was still growing, so when the seasons changed again, the high-soled boots would be too small and they'd have to buy yet another pair.

The man was livid. His son should just have endured it for ten more days!

Claude chose his mother's side in the fight. The shoes only cost four riyas, there was no need to be that stingy. That only sparked his father off in another direction. The man rebuked him for not contributing anything to the house despite having gone on regular hunting trips for a month now with his new musket. He should at least have brought some meat back or sold it and contribute some money to the house purse.

Claude couldn't finish since he was already late for school, but his anger had yet to go away.

Borkal knew what had happened. Their fathers were much closer now since they were working together on their plan for the new trade route. He suspected Claude's father was extra sensitive to money issues since they were busy scraping together the money needed to fund the project.

Claude could do little but lament that he'd transmigrated to be the son of such a miser.

That didn't make him any less upset that his father had chided his hunting ability. He had not yet caught anything substantial, but he had caught a number of hares.

And the man hadn't even asked how his training was going, he should be proud that his son had already moved on to practicing at a hundred metres, not just fifty. That said, he was doing it more out of necessity than skill. He was not going to get flighty hares at fifty metres, they were just too jumpy. His only hope was to hunt them at a full hundred metres. The only, and big, problem, was that hares were all but invisible at that range, and nearly impossible to hit even for a crack shot, using just normal iron sights.

That said, he still had to try. He practiced heavily for three days, and dragged Welikro out of town one afternoon to have an early go at hare hunting.

Eriksson had to stay in town to work on his boat and Borkal was busy peddling Claude's targets. At least things there were going well; they'd already made back their initial four-thale investment and made the same in profit and Borkal had also placed their third batch of orders with his family's carpenter suppliers.

Welikro took Borkal's musket along.

The two skipped skipped their equestrian classes and headed to Claude's home to pick up the muskets before heading out of town.

They headed into the fields. The farmers' dogs caught hares left, right, and centre, but they bred so quickly that there was always more to be hunted, if you could find them. They would have had a far better catch the last time they'd come south of town if they'd gone after the hares, but Borkal had insisted on going after larger animals, of which there were none.

"Didn't you say the watch dogs are expert hunters?" Claude asked.

"They are, but they don't get out of their yards that often. They're used mainly as guard dogs and the owners only take them out to patrol the fields every now and again. They'll always catch a lot of hares, but those things breed so fast that's not enough," Welikro answered.

The two climbed a hill and settled in the cover and shade of a large bush. They had a great line of sight down the slope across a resting field.

"Okay, get your musket in a comfortable position. We'll light the long slow matches now. Also, no talking!--" Welikro wagged his finger seriously. "--Those guys are very jumpy, and they have incredible hearing."

"So we're just going to sit and wait?"

"Yes. You have to be patient when hunting. Most of the game is sitting and waiting."

Welikro cut their conversation there and set about getting into a comfortable position. Claude had heard that the occasional turkey could be found there as well. They didn't come out into the fields as much as the hares did, especially not on resting fields with no dropped grains, so he'd have to train his sights on the very edge of the field where the underbrush started amongst the windbreak trees.

His legs numbed slowly as the minutes came and went but nothing moved, there wasn't even a rustle in the trees' leaves from any breeze.

Claude was on the brink of stretching when Welikro suddenly tapped him on his shoulder and shoved his finger at a point along the edge of the field. Claude strained his eyes, and just barely noticed two thick, hairy blades of tall grass hopping about.

Welikro pointed at both their guns, then at the hairy blades of grass. He wanted them both to shoot at the same time. Claude nodded and attached his smoldering slow match to the musket's cock.

The hairy blades of grass were about 80 metres distant. They hopped a few more times, then settled and started twitching as the hare attached to them nibbled obliviously on the actual grass.

He settled his sights on the hare, made several minute adjustments, and waited for Welikro to signal he was ready as well, then pulled the trigger. The hare twitched before the shot went off, but that was already too late. Claude's view was suddenly obscured by two clouds of puffs of white smoke. When the smoke cleared, the hare was nowhere to be seen.

"I missed," Claude half-snuck.

"I got it. It must've just fell out of sight," came Welikro's confident reply, "Reload, then we'll go get it."

"A shame we didn't bring a dog along," Welikro said out of the blue as the two reloaded.

"A dog?"

Claude knew his friend's family kept three trained hunting dogs at home. Rumour had it they were half-wolf, but he doubted that was true.

"Why would we need a dog?" Claude asked.

"They're trained to fetch your catch for you. If we'd brought one, we could just send it of to go get the hare. Then again, we wouldn't have needed our guns at all if we brought one. Senior, Junior, and Tiny would get them all for us."

"You're bragging…"

"I'm serious!" Welikro exclaimed with a face of the falsely accused, "We trained them to go after big game, hares are barely even worth barking over!"

"Can't the watchdogs do that too? The hares, I mean."

"Yes, but like I said, they aren't let out often. And they can't do it very well in places they're not familiar with. They need proper training to do that. Plus they bark when they're excited or frustrated, which scare the hares and turkeys away. They need to be trained to shut up."

"So what, you usually just use traps or snares?"

"For hares and turkeys, apart from trained hunting dogs, we just shoot them. Most people prefer using the old style hunting bows and arbalests though. They're harder to learn to use, but are more accurate and quieter.

"Traps are only really worth it for bigger animals, unless you're trapping for food to survive. I've not heard of any commercial hunting of small animals like hares with traps. I don't know what you mean by 'snares', but I did hear someone once tried using strong liquor to get turkeys. They'd drink and pass out and he could just slit their throats and carry them off. I've also heard, though I've never tried it, that turkeys freeze when they see light, like lanterns or candles, and you can just catch them with your hands that way."

Welikro was right. They found the hare just into the underbrush. It's spine had about a two-finger gap where the bullet had passed through. Welikro said it had to be Claude's hit since he'd aimed for the head, not the body. Claude didn't think so, though, but he was not going to play modest. He could finally shut his father up.

"Let's go find another spot. The hares won't show up again for an hour or two now."

Claude didn't hear him. He was picking a vine to make a snare.

"What are you doing?"

"Setting a snare."

He knew little of hunting, but he had some experience with trapping and snaring thanks to his younger years in the small village.

"This one should work great on hares and turkeys," he said.

"It can really do that?" Welikro asked, squatting beside him.

"Yup. Just set it in the shrubs. We'll come back tomorrow and see what we have."

Chapter 57 - Chain Snare Catches

Welikro felt he was going crazy. He never imagined turkeys and hares could be caught that way. He made more than a hundred snares with Claude the day before and split them into 14 groups, each had ten interconnected snares. They spread them across the shrubs and grass growths and tied each 'chain' to a large tree. Claude even dropped seeds on top of them.

It had to be a fool's errand, he'd thought. He couldn't not help when he saw how serious Claude was, however. The two worked on the snares for two hours and Welikro lay in his bed that night, wondering how he should comfort his friend when they got there the next afternoon to find empty snares.

He just knew it was going to be a touchy subject, so he didn't say anything about it the whole day. He promised himself he'd help the boy catch a few things when they found the snares empty so he wouldn't have to go home empty handed.

Borkal asked Claude about his hunt, and he answered that they only got one hare. Claude did, however, bring up the snares of his own accord.

The other two boys were intrigued and insisted on going along when they heard Claude boast about how wonderful the snares were. He didn't notice Welikro's 'how-can-you-lie-with-a-straight-face' expression.

Welikro was proven wrong that afternoon. The snares weren't just useful, they were mind boggling. Almost every one was snapped around a leg or a neck. They found five hares and four turkeys still struggling -- only recently caught.

Of the 14 groups, two were untouched and three damaged. They must have caught something larger or stronger than the average turkey or hare, and the catchings broke free. The remaining nine groups each had a catch.

Welikro stared at his musket, lost.

"I wouldn't have brought my musket if I knew this was how it was going to turn out. I'd have just learnt how to make snares."

Borkal and Eriksson helped undo the snares around the dead animals and tie them up for transport.

"Where did you learn to make these?" Eriksson asked, dangling the snare he'd just undid.

Claude snickered.

"Reading. I read one traveller's journal which talked about how the native people of an island north of the continent hunted. He described the snares they used very carefully. I just remade them according to his descriptions.

"There's this one trap that's very interesting. The people put a large net on the beach and bait it with fish or innards. The seagulls catch whiff of the meat and swoop down for lunch. The net has a tricky design, however, that quickly snares the bird's feet and the people would just come back a few hours later and kill the trapped birds.

"I read about this somewhere else as well. Apparently a couple people decided to try it out on the mainland. They tried catching birds of prey, however, and their talons always ruined the nets. The birds of prey were also much smarter than the seagulls, and quickly learnt to avoid the nets.

"Another method a few have tried before is chain snares. That was much more successful than the net attempts."

Hah! He didn't look like he was experimenting the day before! Welikro almost shouted. He felt his balls itch. It was a very strange saying he'd learnt from Claude, but he felt it was very appropriate for him to feel this way since it concerned Claude himself.

"Gonna use the snares again?" he asked.

"Hmm… Yeah. Let's do a few more as well since the sun's still up. We should move them, though. Leave only the untouched snares where they are."

The group moved to the neighbouring hill and started looking for vines to make more snares.

"Why aren't you making them using the rope you brought? They it's tougher than vines, right?" Eriksson asked.

"The ropes smell very different to anything else in the forest, so animals will avoid them," Claude explained, "Don't think they're are that stupid. They aren't as smart as us, but they have razor sharp instincts. Rope snares won't work. This snare is made from vine. Even if we put a bunch of it together in the shrubs, the animals won't find it odd all. They'll think the vines just fell from the shrubs or were growing on the ground to begin with and walk over them without a thought."

The four working together allowed them to deploy more than 40 groups of snares in the area. Most of them were in shrubs. Claude checked every one before scattering feed and earth over them. The feed was used as bait and the earth was used to cover up any traces of human scent.

"Alright, let's head back. We'll know how big our haul is when we come back tomorrow," said Claude with his hands on his waist. He had to kneel down to check so many traps that he was incredibly worn out.

Claude pointed at the animals on the ground and said, "Take some for yourselves. One turkey and hare each, how's that?"

Borkal shook his head. "Claude, this is the result of your and Wero's hard work yesterday. You should be splitting this with him. We'll get our own share tomorrow if we manage to catch some."

Claude rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we're friends. We'll split what we have now and tomorrow is another matter. I can't eat them all anyway if I bring them back home. What do you say, Wero?"

Welikro replied, "You decide. I have a few of these smoked at home and I'm already sick of eating them. I don't mind giving some away."

Borkal laughed and said, "No, Claude, don't you know that the owner of the old tavern, Pjard, is buying turkeys at a high price? He wants live ones and you can sell these four to him."

"What is he paying for each?" asked Claude.

"One riyas. Maybe two more sunars, it depends."

"He only wants turkey? Does he want hares?"

"Probably," Borkal said uncertainly, "Last I checked, he was paying some mountain folk at the back of the tavern for a hare and a turkey caught by hunting dogs. As the turkey was still alive, he bought it for one riyas, but he didn't want the dead hare. The mountain folk said that he would even sell it for three sunars, but Pjard insisted on live ones rather than dead ones."

Three sunars for a hare was more or less three bucks. A turkey on the other hand could be sold for ten bucks. That price disparity was almost too much.

Claude looked at Welikro, who understandingly said, "Then let's sell it. Borkal's right, we'll split our catch tomorrow."

So, the four of them spent an hour leaving the forest and happened to bump into a carriage heading into town. Borkal used a rabbit to pay for the ride to the old tavern.

Pjard was acquainted with Claude. Even though they didn't talk much, they had met each other a few times before.

What made Pjard wonder was how Claude managed to catch those animals. They didn't seem to be caught by hunting dogs. Even though Claude and Welikro wore their guns on their backs, the animals didn't seem to have gunshot wounds. They looked fine, if not a little fatigued.

"How about this, one riyas for each turkey and four sunars for each hare," said Pjard.

This time, it was Borkal's turn. He called the offer insincere and dishonest when he told Pjard about the time he saw him buy the turkey from a mountain folk. Pjard later admitted that he had made an honest mistake in conflating perfectly fine animals with those caught and injured by hunting dogs, so he raised his offer by one sunar for each animal as an apology.

Claude agreed to the deal and kept one hare to bring home. He resolved himself to let Morssen have hare meat every day until he got sick of it and puked.

What Pjard didn't expect was that Claude and the others would return the next day with 17 turkeys and 11 hares, unharmed and living like before, only seeming worn out. Pjard wondered if the four youths chased the animals down with their own two feet across the hill until they ran out of energy before catching them.

However, he didn't comment on it and bought them all at the same price he offered. Claude also brought a hare home that day.

The next day, the four returned with eleven turkeys and seven hares.

Next, they came with six turkeys and eight hares.

On the fifth day, they came a little later than usual. They looked much more tired than before and seemed like they had traveled far. However, they brought 14 turkeys and 9 hares with them.

Pjard finally spoke out. He expressed troubedly that he had too many live turkeys and hares in his tavern and feeding them alone took up two workers. So, Pjard said that he hoped that after that day's purchase, Claude and the rest would temporarily stop bringing him more turkeys and hares.

The four of them breathed a sigh of relief. They were finding it harder and harder to find turkeys and hares in the forest and hills south of town and had to go further and further to catch more. They spent two hours alone leaving the hills that day.

Chapter 58 - Secret Concoction

Claude was in a good mood this day -- calm and relaxed, just like how he usually felt after eating ice cream.

He and his friends had sold their daily trappings to Pjard for the last five days, netting them a nifty thale and three riyas, a month's peasant earnings. Eriksson had completely forgotten about his completed ship, he only cared about the snares now.

As Borkal put it, they were picking money off the ground. All they had to do was drop some vine snares in a few shrubs and come back the next day to collect their prey. There was no need to fire their muskets at all and they could even save on the gunpowder and bullets.

They'd sold more than Pjard needed, however, and he had told them it would be a while before he would buy from them again. The four friends were also getting bored of what had become their daily routine. And then there was the fact that their daily catch was getting sparser.

Claude's father had also started grumbling about his shoes again and Claude had slammed the four riyas the shoes had cost on the desk in front of his father.

"Fine, here's the money for the damned shoes. Stop bugging mother over it!"

His father's face switched back and forth between fury at being talked to in such a way by his son, and astonishment that his little boy had just done that, but words failed him so it turned into just an awkward stare.

Claude was gone before he finally thought of something to say, whistling happily as he half trotted to school.

He put his things away after wrestling class and prepared to leave.

"Where are you going?" Borkal asked, tugging on his arm, "Horsemanship ands this week. We only have three days left. We should ride the horses as much as we can."

"Tomorrow," Claude said, "I'm going south of town."

"For what? Didn't Pjard say he won't need anymore for a while?"

"I'm just going to have a look. We put down a bunch of traps there yesterday and it wouldn't do to let the catches rot. And we can just take them home if Pjard doesn't want them. And if we're not going to catch again for a while, we ought to take the snares apart. I don't mind someone else taking a few of the hares or turkeys, but if they figure out how to make the snares, we'll be out of business."

Borkal nodded thoughtfully.

It wouldn't do for others to learn this method, it was too easy. If someone else found out about it, it wouldn't be too long before the whole area around town was hunted dry.

Losing a few catches wasn't a problem, but the snares were so simple anyone but the dumbest vagrant would figure out how it worked while getting the animal out, and then they would never see a good catch, if any catch at all, again.

"Want me to come along?" Welikro asked.

"No--" Claude shook his head. "--I'm going to take a walk as well. It's fine even if we don't get a catch. I'm going mainly to deal with the rest of the snares. It won't take long. Go to the jetty, I'll meet you guys there once I'm done. We haven't helped Uncle Pegg out for a week."

Claude stopped by his home first to fetch his musket. He ran into mother and little brother as he stepped out of the house again. His mother was carrying a basket and Bloweyk was hopping and skipping around her, acting half his age.

Here came trouble, Claude thought as Bloweyk ran to him and nagged him to take the little boy along. It took Claude five minutes to calm him down, and he only managed it because he agreed to several other unfair demands.

He turned to head out of the yard, but was stopped by his mother. She came up to him and stroked his messy hair.

"It's about time you went for a haircut. You can't let your hair be this unkempt when it's this long. D'you want a ponytail like your brother?"

The thought that his mother actually thought his brother looked nice with that sickening ponytail made Claude want to vomit. Arbeit was a spindly young man with pale skin, so his ponytail only made him look like a woman to an unscrupulous eye. He knew it, too, which was why he made sure to stick to the main streets after a late night of drinking where the lights made it easier for other men to recognise his sex before the got too excited.

He complained about the ugly thing for a couple seconds, then shook his head.

"Please no, anything but that. I'll never be able to keep it clean. I'll have it cut in a few days. Nice and short."

"Good, short hair fits you better. Makes you look younger," his mother agreed, "Oh, right, take this," his mother said, stuffing a thale into his hands.

Why was she giving him a thale all of a sudden? Claude asked himself, staring at the small silver coin in the palm of his hand.

"Don't blame your father. He was venting this morning because a lot of stuff's been going on at work, and he was frustrated and needed to vent. We're more than happy to spend money on you guys.

"And you've been spending a lot of money lately yourself, if I'm not mistaken," his mother said probingly, "Father bought you a musket but had you buy its powder and rounds, and then you still bought hares for me to cook. I know you didn't hunt the hares since they didn't have any shot wounds on them. Don't be mad at your father, you're still young and don't know the troubles he has. He asked you to hunt the hares so you will have a goal to practice towards, you don't have to buy them just to prove a point to him."

Claude didn't know whether to laugh or cry. How much money did his mother think he had? If not for his trappings, he would be dead broke. He didn't have the money to buy hares just to shut his father up. Though he did do basically the same thing with the riyas that morning... but that was beside the point! He supposed it was to be expected. No one knew he knew how to trap, especially not his mother, so she would naturally expect anything he hunted to have a shot wound, and since the hares he'd brought back didn't, the only logical conclusion was that he'd sourced them from someone else, whom he'd had to pay.

His mother had thought he'd shoved the money at his father to show off despite actually not having much.

"I really do have money, mother," Claude began, giving the money back to his mother, "Really I do. I didn't hunt them with my musket, though. I trapped them. That's why they don't have any shot wounds. You can ask my friends if you want, they went with me. We caught a lot this last week and sold them all to Pjard. You can ask him, too, if you want. We made a thale this last week. That's why I didn't mind giving the money to father this morning.

"And I don't blame father for asking me to bring back hares. I know he's doing it for my own good, and I also know why he was ranting about the shoes. But I don't care how bad things are at work. I don't want him bringing his issues back home with him and taking it out on us. If he wants to deal with it, then he should find something else to do or someone else to pester. It's not good to take it out on innocent people, especially his family. And he shouldn't sour being at home for us. It's supposed to be the calm place we all come to after a long day to rest and be with the people we love. It wouldn't be right for us to want to stay away from it as much as we can because we don't want to run into him. And yes, that was exactly what he was doing. Didn't you see how scared Blowk and Anna were this morning? They're usually very chatty but they didn't say a single word at breakfast!

"Anyway, keep the money, mother. I have enough already. I'm not old but I'm grown up now. Get Anna new clothes or something instead. Her uniform is a hand-me-down and it won't do for a young woman like her to wear that much longer. I have to go now. See you later!"

He spotted a carriageman driving by, it was the same man who'd taken him south of town two days earlier. He ran up to him and asked him to do it again, and the two were off before his mother could say anything else.

She looked at the silver coin her little boy had stuffed back into her hands as he was talking to the carriageman, then turned around to head inside, only to bump right into her husband's chest. Morssen stared at his son as he got on the carriage, almost absentmindedly.

"Did you hear your son?" his wife said from below him, "Still want to lecture him tonight?"

She found herself rather feisty today.

Morssen smiled bitterly and he fumbled for his pipe. He shook his head as he lit it.

"No. He's making more sense than me. I don't know who'll end up lecturing who if I start something tonight. I'll check with Pjard later to see if the boy's telling the truth. Ugh… His turkey costs three riyas and five sunars. I wonder how much he paid for it..."

Claude headed off on Regan's carriage.

Regan was a peasant. He spent most of his time working on Poplar Ridge Farmstead. He did some usual farmwork and the deliveries as well. When it was time to deliver the harvest, he made several trips a day for a week or more. His humble background and humble situation meant Claude could catch a ride out of town and back with him as he made his trips without having to pay much. Regan only asked for a hare in return.

"Alone today?" Regan asked, his eyes still glued to the old farm horse drawing the carriage.

"Yes. Eriksson, Borkal, and Welikro are busy. Today's the last time I'll be heading out for a while myself as well. We're out of that secret concoction. I'm just making this last trip to check if we got any with the last couple of drops. I'll give you one if we got any."

Regan had taken note of the large number of hares and turkeys the four friends caught, and their pristine state. It went against everything he knew about hunting, and, unable to contain his curiosity, he'd asked how they did it.

Claude claimed he read about a secret formula in a book on medicine that could knock out people in the right doses, and though it could be used to hunt small animals as well. He dipped grains in the mixture and left them in the wilderness, then just came back later and picked up the sleeping hares and turkeys.

Borkal went along without a word, praising the non-existent concoction to the high heavens. The only problem, apparently, was that the ingredients were hard to come buy, and, when one did, they were very expensive. Claude was surprised to hear that the four, including himself, had only barely made back the money the concoction cost them.

Regan believed them whole-heartedly. Why would the sons of two famous rich men in town lie to him? Not to mention the son of town's chief secretary. He lamented the 'loss' of three thales the concoction supposedly cost. Oh how wonderful it would have been if he had that kind of money. It would make a great addition to his saving to get a wife.

Chapter 59 - Lardor Snowhound

Claude walked dandily on the road, his musket slung over his shoulder. Three hares hung on his belt and he strained under five more turkeys. The four friends had set probably hundreds of snares over the last five days of hunting. They'd concentrated on five areas, however, which made it much easier to find them again.

They didn't place the snares in the same place two days in a row, but they stayed in the same area. They, at first, focused on shrubs and thick knolls of grass. It had served them well, and they'd struggled to carry everything back to the pickup points.

They usually left the groups of snares that were completely untouched. They'd not set any new snares the day before, since they'd decided to stop trapping for the time being, so the only snares left to take care today were the untouched ones left the days before. Everything Claude carried with him now came from those.

Claude circled the larger area for two hours, only heading home after he was absolutely certain he hadn't left a single snare intact.

He really struggled. The hares weren't a problem, but the turkeys were damn heavy. They'd usually split the catch between the four of them so each usually only had two or three turkeys to worry about, which was already a heavy load. Now he had to handle five. He headed to Poplar Ridge Farmstead instead of limping back to town. It would be great if he could catch a ride into town with Regan.

The stead was pretty big, though not huge, handling a whole ten acres. It didn't produce wheat, however; it grew fruits and vegetables. They also had a decent chicken coup. The owners didn't live on the farm, which was very unusual. Apparently it was a family farm inherited by a merchant from the prefectural capital. He only came by once every couple of years, only four times, in fact, since he'd inherited the place. It was run by a foreman in his stead, a distant relative of his, actually.

The whole farm was tended by four families, beside the foreman's. Regan was a loose farmhand. He looked after the dogs, drove the carriage to transport things around the farm and to and from town, and did a few other miscellaneous things as needed. The stead had three dogs, but they weren't really that useful. The only time they barked was when their food was late or their water dry. They didn't even catch hares or rats.

The stead's boundaries lay on the bank of a small, two-meter-wide waterway. They were great for irrigation, and worked just as well as a clear indication of where the border was so most farms built them on their borders. It also meant less space was wasted on the farm itself to have the waterway run there, and it also meant they could split the cost and work of maintaining them with their neighbours. They also kept any kept animals from crossing too easily. They did walkways across them here and there, though, so it didn't obstruct Claude as he headed to the farm.

He didn't expect to run into the dogs, however. That said, they really didn't look like watchdogs. They were much bigger and their fur had a weird colour. The town's watchdogs were a dark grey, almost black. A few were brown, but they were very much in the minority. These, however, had a mixture of white, light grey, and a milky yellow -- about the colour of urine. Besides their size, they reminded him of huskies.

A fat woman walked out of a nearby barn a few barks after Claude arrived and yelled at the dogs. She only turned her attention to him once they were obediently sat beside her, and asked what he wanted.

Claude told her he was looking for Regan. The woman stared at him almost suspiciously for a couple long moments before pointing at a small building nearby and vanishing back into the barn without another word.

The dogs didn't follow, almost clinging to Claude instead as he headed to the small building, their barks replaced by enthusiastic sniffs and Claude didn't know which was worse.

The small building turned out to be a stable. The carriage stood just outside the entrance, and a couple horses neighed inside. Regan was kneeling beside a large box. Claude heard small yelps as he got closer, and it turned out the man was playing with a litter of puppies. They were no more than six weeks old. They were all white, and gnawed and scratched on the box and Regan's hand as much as each other.

"Why are you here?" Regan asked, hearing Claude approach with the three dogs.

Claude tossed him a hare before he spoke.

"For you, as promised. This will be the last time though."

"Thanks a lot," Regan smiled as he picked up the hare, "It's plump! Guess we'll have an extra dish tonight. Oh, are you heading back to town now?"

Claude nodded.

"If you wait half an hour, I can give you a lift. I just need to load the eggs and a couple baskets of blueberries."

"Sure."

"Okay, let me just drop this off at the kitchen first," Regan said, swinging the hare by its ears for emphasis, "Entertain these little ones for me, will ya? They love to play."

Regan stroked the three dogs' heads as he walked by.

They were great fun to play with, it turned out. The puffballs were irresistible. The big ones lazed somewhere behind Claude, eyeing him and his catchings in equal measure.

The half an hour flew by and Regan was standing behind Claude before he knew it.

"What breed are they? They're not the watchdogs' little ones, are they?" Claude asked without turning around.

"They're not watchdogs," a strange voice answered him, "They're proper lardor snowhounds, so are the pups, young man."

Claude spun around a little too quickly for his dignity. The voice came from a white-bearded man.

"Sorry, Regan said there were three watchdogs on the farm. I'm not that familiar with dog breeds so I didn't know any better," Claude apologised.

"No worries. I'm Mokro, the supervisor," the old man smiled.

He approached the box and touched the little puppies' heads.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir. I'm Claude, Regan's friend. I was going to hitch a ride back to town on the carriage."

"He told me," Mokro said, standing back up and glancing at the animals stacked by the wall, "Did you catch everything yourself? They're still alive... You didn't shoot them?"

"No, I trapped them," Claude answered sincerely.

"Regan said you used some kind of concoction to knock them out?"

So Regan was quite the talker. Good thing Claude didn't even so much as hint at how he'd really done it.

"Yes. I dipped grains and leaves in it. They love those," Claude answered.

"Makes sense. I've heard of people using wheat and alcohol."

Claude laughed and shook his head.

"Won't work. I remember reading about someone who did that to catch turkeys, but the author made it up. Turkeys won't eat the grain if they smell of alcohol. That's what rotten wheat eventually smells like. Not to mention the alcohol would evaporate long before anything gets to eating it."

"Your concoction doesn't sound much different from alcohol though," the old man retorted.

Claude smiled quietly. He noticed the agenda hidden behind the question.

Mokro wasn't surprised when Claude didn't answer him.

"You're Morssen's boy, aren't you?"

Claude nodded.

"I've met him a few times. He's a good bureaucrat. Whitestag wouldn't be where it is today without him."

"Thank you. I'm sure my father will be happy to hear it," Claude smiled politely.

"You like puppies? I can give you one if you want," Mokro offered out of the blue.

"I appreciate the sentiment. They're cute, but I don't think I want one," Claude said, raising his guard.

Nothing was ever for free, and this man just asked about his concoction...

"Lardor snowhounds are perfect playmates for children," Mokro said, kneeling beside Claude as he looked at the fur balls inside the box, "The northerners see them as members of their family. They're loyal, reliable, brave, sensitive, and incredibly intelligent.

"They don't have much of a history in the kingdom though. The were first brought here about two hundred years ago. Some merchant gave them to Stellin III as a birthday gift. They bastardised with other dogs from the palace, however, so the royal hounds have no pure bloodlines anymore, well, they would have if Stellin IX hadn't sent people north to get him pure snowhounds again.

"These three obviously aren't purebreds but they're close. They're only three generations removed from a pure line. They're the most popular breed in the cities."

Claude was somewhat moved and thought about Bloweyk's unreasonable demands. If he could get him a little pup, he might not have to buy him more gifts, and Bloweyk would be nine clouds higher than he would about any other toy. Plus it ought to keep him off his mother.

"You're really willing to give me a pup?" Claude asked, licking the inside of his lips.

"It's a cub, not a pup," Mokro said somewhat unhappily, "If you like it, sure. Your father's done a lot for the town, and the farm's benefited a lot from the town's growth, so I would be happy to give him a pup."

"I can't take. My dad won't let me accept gifts for him on his behalf," Claude said sadly, staring at the puppies again, "I can trade for it with some of my catch. How about a turkey and a hare?"

Mokro laughed heartily and gave Claude a high five.

"Alright, deal. You can pick any one and take it with you."

Chapter 60 - Claude the Confused

Claude lay on his bed and watched as the little snowhound fought some old slippers to the death. He brought it back three days ago and finally realized the old man only talked about the dog's good points. He didn't mention its most unique characteristic: its innate ability to take a house apart.

No wonder he felt the three lardor snowhounds were similar to huskies. In fact, they were probably 'brothers from the same family'. He was stupefied that the little snowhound wasn't cowardly like huskies. Instead, it had the propensity to get mad at others even though it was no more than six weeks old.

The slipper was his father's. He was annoyed by the snowhound one day blocking his way and kicked it aside. Well… kick was a strong word, maybe more like a hard shove with the foot, but the dog had it in for him ever since. He always attacked his shoes, whether they were on his feet or not. Even his slipper weren't safe.

Almost everyone apart from Morssen loved the little fur ball though. Arbeit didn't but he didn't count. Claude's mother, sister, and little brother smothered it with their affection, and with nicknames.

Claude called him Pluto, and his mother had taken to the name enthusiastically. Mokro had demanded the little thing have a name before Claude left with it and that was what he'd come up with. His boss' husky had had that name, but Claude had no idea why that name popped into his head.

His brother and sister nearly died of acute cute attacks when they saw the little thing. Angelina didn't like Claude's name for it, however, and called it Snowflake instead. Claude wouldn't stand for it, however. He could not let the poor pup's dignity be so destroyed by giving him a girl's name. She wouldn't listen, however. Bloweyk didn't bother with names and just called it 'little puppy'.

The door opened and Angelina poked her head in.

"Snowflake here?" she asked, her eyes darting around the floor.

"Come in, Pluto's playing with my old slippers."

"It's Snowflake, Snow-flake!" his sister pouted.

Claude just smiled at her and resolved to call it Pluto in front of her every time he could.

She opened the door and the little thing charged at her wagging its tail wildly. It knew who treated it best and the young girl was his favourite maid. The two played right there in Claude's room, completely oblivious to his presence. He was content to sit and watch them, however, and they were happy to continue ignoring him.

His mother called Angelina to bed about half an hour later and she unceremoniously plopped the little thing on hear head and headed downstairs -- again not caring what Claude thought about her decision to make the dog sleep with her. She'd claimed him as her nighttime partner the day he'd arrived, and wouldn't hear anything about him sleeping anywhere but in her room. Her only concession -- which had to be pried out of her with blood, sweat, and tears, and which no one actually thought she kept -- was to let him sleep in a small box filled with scrap cloth rather than her bed.

"You mustn't let him sleep with you in your bed! He's already torn two blankets a bed sheet and a pillow apart. And you promised you'd keep him in his box. If he tears another piece of linen apart we'll have to give him away."

The girl nodded, tears at the corners of her eyes and her lower lip quivering. She clutched the little thing against her chest so hard it had to yelp to get her to relax her grip.

"I know. I won't let it sleep in my bed again, but you have to make sure mom won't give it away!"

Claude waved nonchalantly. Abandon it? Impossible. Even his father liked dogs. The only one that might have done something like that was Arbeit, but he wasn't staying at home anymore.
They'd certainly not give it away given how expensive its kind was. He'd gone to the jetty with the puppy three days earlier, and Borkal had told him they sold for three or four thales a pop in the cities, even more in the big cities like the capital. One with pure white fur could go for as much as a whole crown.

He left three turkey's poorer that day, but had kept one for his mother. He loved chicken soup, but it couldn't compare to turkey soup.

Pegg got the remaining hare. Eriksson had invited everyone to a barbecue, but Claude had to take the pup home, so he declined.

He'd asked Borkal why he thought Mokro would give him such an expensive pup, and the boy had said he probably needed a favour from his father. When he mentioned it to his father, he said the man had been eyeing a stall space in the market, but he couldn't afford the rent.

Claude had wondered what favour the man might have been after, but he hadn't thought of something that obvious. The market was basically a farmer's market, and was his father's brainchild, they'd actually won him his third award.

The market was built on an old abandoned noble's garden which had become overrun by peddlers and hawkers. It had turned from an overgrown bush in the middle of town into a cesspool -- none of its illegal occupants followed any kind of regulation or set any kind of hygiene standard.

Morssen, then just a normal bureaucrat, suggested turning it into a proper market square. It would clean up the mess, get rid of the criminal elements operating in it, and could become a revenue source above and beyond the increased taxable business. They could rent rather than sell the stall spaces and it would thus provide a continuous revenue stream.

It was quickly accepted and a year later the first shop opened its doors. Today it was the town's business centre where every-day goods were concerned and it provided a nice income for the local government.

Morssen had not forgotten his project by the time he was made the town's chief secretary. His first act as secretary was to commision the square's expansion. The new lots that provided were also dedicated to a number of different industries which diversified the market's offerings and made it even more popular. One of his novel introduction was a rotary renting model. Rather than anyone being any one spot in that section of the market's sole renter, people rented a stall for a specific day or number of days a month or a week. They could use that stall space only on those days and others rented and used them on other days.

This made it possible for farmers who did not have enough produce to open a permanent stall, to have stalls once a week or month and still be able to sell their harvests directly to public, rather than having to sell to a middle-man. It brought he average prices of farm-fresh products down for townsfolk, while still letting farmers sell for higher prices than wholesalers would give them.

If any one thing could be called the singular achievement that had given Claude's father his clout and respect in town, this was it.

Claude didn't ask for any more information. Clearly Mokro had failed to convince his father he should get the stall, so he'd turned to expensive dogs. He would have walked away from that farm with the pup one way or another. In principle he hadn't accepted a gift in his father's stead, but the hare he'd traded couldn't even begin to compare.

Claude didn't care about Morko's machinations, however. Morssen knew what was going on and he would do what he felt was best.

The equestrian classes ended that afternoon and the roster returned to the wholly compulsory normal.

Eriksson's boat was complete as well. All that was left was painting. It would be seaworthy in another fortnight and then the four would take to the lake again. Eriksson in particular wanted them to have a go at the water birds that lived in the wetlands.

His trip to Egret and his recent hunting excursions had cured him of the desire to live a sedentary life. It wasn't that he was particularly adventurous though, he just didn't want to see the same four walls and the same eight streets his whole life. He'd found himself actually looking forward to his military life on Nubissia -- less the military part than the new continent part though.

He still had two years before that happened, though. He sighed and played wistfully with his dagger.

The dagger, the locket-shaped wooden plaque, and the fish-shaped pen holder were his three magical possessions, worth a thale to him. He couldn't find out anymore than that they had some magic in them, however, no matter what he did. He even suspected his eyes were tricking him. Maybe they faked the glows when they saw nothing because they knew how badly he wanted to find more magic things.

Eriksson said the wooden plaque was used to mark rooms in inns and ship cabins. Claude thought the same when he gave it a wash, but it didn't seem right when he thought about it some more. If it really was a door plaque, it should have some a number or name on it. It didn't.

It was also not actually made of wood, but of stone, though it's appearance didn't match though. It felt almost like the fake-jade ornaments so popular back on earth. The plaque had a polished appearance, and, while it had neither name nor number on it, its back was engraved with a hexagram.

Of the three items, he was most convinced the plaque had to be magic. Unfortunately, it seemed the plaque didn't share his conviction. No matter what he tried, it did nothing at all. He concluded that the most likely answer was that his mental strength simply was not great enough to trigger whatever response was supposed to happen, yet.

He'd tried just as hard with the dagger, he'd even thought of tossing it into Mike's kiln, but it too, did nothing. His conviction for its magical properties had waned since he saw the daggers in Hans' place. It wasn't even comparable to his normal handiwork.

It couldn't cut through outrageous things, it wasn't even sharp by normal knife standards. He couldn't find any other special attributes either, nor did he feel any physical effect from wielding it; it was simply there. He wouldn't even have glanced at it in that shop if not for its reaction when he'd swept his intent gaze across the three racks.

He'd even taken it apart a few times, there there was nothing out of the ordinary with the hilt either.

He'd tried doing a kind of blood ritual to bind the items to him, but it did nothing. That finally made him realise that whatever magic was in this world, and by whatever rules it worked, they were most definitely not 'eastern', as it would have been called back on earth, but 'western'.

He sighed and put everything away. He stared out his window, however, feeling nothing like sleeping.

His gaze drifted to his drawer absentmindedly, and he saw the two dictionary-thick diaries. He hesitated for a moment, then gave in and pulled the first volume out. He had nothing better to do, certainly nothing else that could give him more of a hint into the world of magic, so he might as well read.

Chapter 61 - Magus Landes' Diary (1)

The book was more memoir than diary. This volume was penned just after Landes became a third-rank rune magus. He'd just gotten his first private room in the tower which had eventually been destroyed by the cannon barrage his final entry in the first diary had mentioned.

This volume also appeared to be the first one he'd ever written, since it started right at the beginning of his life, deep in his childhood. He was quite the diligent documenter, too. He noted everything of even the remotest interest -- interest to whom, Claude didn't know -- from how hardworking his parents were to how much he and his sibling loved one another. The first ten pages were quite confusing, a disorganised jumble of what might be called the broadest details of his life. It gained some clarity and structure -- maybe even a semblance of order -- from the eleventh page onwards, however. One thing was clear through his ten pages of ramblings: he was very proud to have finally become a third-rank rune magus. It took him only four years to turn himself from an illiterate 14-year-old boy into a third-grade rune magus. He hadn't let his parents down.

The diary was written in ancient Hez, so it took Claude a long time to read through it. He had to stop to refer to the dictionary often as well. He realised, by about the twentieth page, that magi weren't the evil things everyone described them as today.

Landes wrote that he grew up in the village of Whitestag, a settlement built near the scenic Lake Balinga. Claude was astounded to see the coincidences continue to pile up. The entire region where the three prefectures stood today apparently belonged to the tower's master, a seven-ring archmagus called Loenk. But as the great archmagus was busy probing magic arcane secrets, he couldn't be bothered with managing his land and left it to the three magi households that lived on it.

Landes' childhood household had eight people. It was him and his parents, his two older brothers, and older sister and a younger sister, and their grandmother, whom he dearly despised.

His father owned a small fishing boat and would take his two brothers to fish on the lake early in every morning. They had an acre of farmland and a small vegetable garden, which were tended by his mother and elder sister. They also owned a cow and horse, the caretaking of which fell to him. Most of his time was spent grazing the two animals.

Landes' grandmother and younger sister managed house and fed the ten chickens. The whole family worked day and night, but they had to give half of everything they produced to the local magi noble as tax for being allowed to use the land. They could barely feed the family with what was left after the tax collectors came by.

When his three elder siblings started to grow up and looking for a husband and wives, his parents started worrying about how they would save up money, something they generally lived without entirely, to pay the two husbands' dowries, and contribute to their daughter's dowry. The magic test was conducted in town that very year.

The test was conducted on all the children in the archmagus's domain. Everyone between the ages of five and fifteen had to be tested. Children above twelve discovered to have talent would be sent to the tower and developed into apprentices while those younger than twelve would be marked and tested again when they turned twelve. If their talent was still there, they would be brought into the tower as well.

So talent fluctuated? The thought interested him, but his attention soon returned to the diary. Landes said that, ever since childhood, his sense of hearing had been really sensitive. No matter how quiet his grandmother complained about him, he could hear it all. He might have liked the old woman otherwise.

Landes wrote that, sometimes, he would take the the cow and horse out to graze. He would lie down for a nap while they grazed, but despite closing his eyes, he would still see them clearly in his mind, and not just the normal mental picture most people described. It looked exactly like when his eyes were open.

The magus who came to town to test the children had a long beard. He wore a black robe and a stern expression. Many of the children were absolutely terrified of him.

He was also the guy that came around every year to collect the taxes. The villagers darted out of their homes and shops, children in tow, often being dragged quite literally kicking and screaming behind their parents.

Landes' parents took him and his younger sister to be tested as well. In all, 40 families' children, over 50, were going to be tested.

Whitestag should be the last place in the southwest where the evaluation would be carried out. Ten or so children, dressed in identical grey robes, stood behind him. Both boys and girls were among them and each and every one stood proudly.

The evaluation went quickly since no one showed any talent and it was soon his family's turn. His sister went first. The testing device was a transparent glass ball. The grim-faced magus had Landes' sister stare into it. The ball flashed green for a moment. The magus said his sister had a wood affinity, but it wasn't strong enough to qualify as a true talent for magic.

He was next. He stared into the ball intently. He dearly wanted to touch it, but he dared not do something like that under that steely gaze. He was told to stare into it and see if he could see anything.

He noticed a shape inside the ball, but he couldn't quite see what it was. It felt like liquid was rushing at him inside that ball. He increased the intent in his gaze, and finally made out what it was. Inside, a small fire danced like a bubbling liquid. It grew larger the longer he stared, and slowly turned from a bright spring orange into a deep summer red. He eventually noticed that the bubbling wasn't random, like a carefully choreographed dance, the flame took on fleeting shapes every now and again, they sometimes resembled sheep, sometimes houses, sometimes mountains, sometimes strange mythical beasts. The recogniseable shapes only ever lasted a moment, before fading into a random bubbling mass again as if nothing had just happened.

The red darkened, and eventually faded entirely into black and vanished. The ball was clear again and Landes finally snapped out of his reverie. His eyes darted nervously to the magus, afraid of the scolding he was no doubt about to get for staring at the ball quietly for so long, only to see the magus stare at him, saucer-eyed.

It took him a moment to realise the magus wasn't just staring at him, but shouting as well.

"Fire affinity, level nine! Mental power, level eight! You're chosen!"

Landes' diary noted that a year after he went to the tower he learned of what the glass ball really was. It was called a talent-evaluator and it was a magical item personally crafted and refined by the towermaster.

The magi believed everyone had at least some affinity for magic. Commoners were no exception. They categorised the talent using affinity to a number of elements and quantified it into a number of levels. Everyone had a score of at least one, and most could go up to two. Three and four were only slightly above average, and five to six were good enough to actually use magic if trained properly.

Commoners, however, never had a chance to learn magic on their own. Nurturing magi required lots of resources, especially of the magic variety, and it only got worse as their strength grew. The noble families hoarded all the dwindling resources for use in training their own scions.

There was a saying among the nobles: 'What you lack in talent, you can make up for with resources'. Which they did. Any noble child with an affinity greater than four would be trained.

It was much the same as 'pay to win' games. No player, no matter how good or dedicated, could beat someone willing to vomit money for boosts and special items.

Someone with an affinity between seven and eight had great talent. Even commoner children with that level of affinity would be nurtured, to a point. Such children could become common magi without too much resources, which meant more could be spent on noble children with weaker affinities. The commoners would be trained into common five or six ring magi and apprenticed to a high-ranking magus.

Those with an affinity of level nine or ten were beyond rare, genii among genii. Any household who produced such an offspring would be provided for for three centuries.

They were treated no different from other chosen commoners, however. They would also only be trained to the five or six rings.

The ball could measure more than just affinity; it also measured mental energy. The two usually went together, so that made sense.

Landes had a high affinity for fire, which was why he'd seen a fire in the ball. The shape indicated affinity, the brightness level, and the duration mental energy. The ball consumed mental energy at a constant rate, so the longer the testee could stared into the ball, the greater their mental energy was. People with particularly strong mental energy also caused the image in the ball to morph into different shapes of objects. The magus didn't miss that particular detail in Landes' test either.

He didn't know what the magus meant when he said he was chosen. And he was too terrified to try and figure that out. The tax collection official soon calmed down, however, and spoke to his parents. He later learned they'd been exempted from taxes and he'd been chosen to go to the tower to train as a magus.

His parents had never been convinced this whole being chosen to become a magus was a good thing, but the exemption changed their minds. They took the boy home and his mother cooked up a feast, they even invited the neighbours over. With all the foods and stuffs they'd usually have to hand over to pay their taxes now staying home, they could save up enough money for all five their children in just a couple of years.

Landes wasn't as happy that night, however. He was numbed by shock and terrified to leave his family, not to mention doing so with that frightening old bearded man.

Chapter 62 - Magus Landes' Diary (2)

Claude had to admit that, while the diary contained lots of trivial details, he found them interesting and gained a basic understanding of magic from them, such as the talent-evaluation glass ball, elemental affinity, and so on. Those were the things of which he wasn't aware. He only went to sleep late that night.

So there was also an elemental component to magic... He wondered for which element he had the greatest affinity. Regrettably, he didn't have his own glass ball.

He went to sleep very late, so he was quite tired the next day. The whole day was spent yawning and being lectured by his teachers when they caught him dozing off. He barely even heard his father lecturing him around the dinner table about how quickly he was using up his lamp oil. He merely told him he had to study Hez.

He played with his younger siblings and the dog for a little while after dinner then headed up to his room when they went to bed at nine. He had only read about 40 pages and he wanted to see what else Landes had written about. He dearly hoped he wrote something about his life as an apprentice.

He flipped the diary open and continued his read. As expected, Landes described the helplessness, unwillingness, and disappointment he felt when he left home with the grim-looking magus in great detail. He didn't expect the place to which he was heading to be so close to home. They arrived at their destination after only crossing the lake to Egret Island.

He wrote three pages just on his first impressions of the tower. He focused especially on his shock and amazement at the sheer size of the thing and he revisited that description often throughout the rest of the diary. For the first time, he even felt a little pride bubble in his chest at the thought that he was going to be living in this incredible place.

He had not seen anything even comparable to the tower in his entire life. He was a country bumpkin marching into a city for the first time and his mouth was open more than closed for the next couple of days.

His life in the world of magic began thusly on quite a high note, but he soon encountered a problem. He might be the most talented of all the youngsters who'd been chosen this round, but he was also completely illiterate.

Six others were also illiterate. Luckily the tower had accounted for this, and a two-ring rune magus had been arranged to teach them how to read and write.

Magic was written and taught in Hez, which Landes recorded was said to be a variant of dragon tongue. They weren't just taught how to read the script however, they were all but taught the language again from scratch, as they had to learn the proper, 'high Hezian' pronunciation, which was used in spell casting, which was quite different from their native varieties of 'vulgar Hezian'. They were also taught proper enunciation, as that was crucial to spell casting.

Landes' teacher was a low-ranked female magus. She was quite beautiful, so much so that Landes often found it hard to concentrate. A month or so into his stay at the tower he was completely infatuated with the woman and took two pages to describe her in what could only be called excruciating detail.

She didn't care much for him, or any of the other illiterates, however. To her, they were nothing but charges who she had to get literate as quickly as possible so she could be done with them. They were an annoyance more than anything else, though she was painstakingly patient and gentle with them.

She vanished the moment her work was done and Landes never saw her again. He heard much later, when he became a one-ring rune magus, that she was gifted to another seven-ring archmagus by Loenk to be his concubine not long after she finished teaching them. The archmagus had run into her on one of his visits and became, much like Landes himself, infatuated with her. Unlike Landes, however, he had the clout to get her, or more specifically, the riches: he traded several precious magic items for her.

Before Landes learnt of this, however, her disappearance was already a deep disappointment to him. His first crush, crushed so quickly and mercilessly. He'd had some hope of winning her over with his talent and personality, but that was gone once he learned what happened to her. He had entertained the thought of going to fetch her for a few moments, but only a few. No one dared, or even could, challenge Archmagus Loenk's decisions, not to mention the other archmagus.

He moved on to being trained in actual magecraft after he passed a final assessment on 'high Hezian'. The first order of business was assigning him to a class.

That was news to Claude as well. He'd read quite a bit of literature on magic. Magi were usually differentiated by attribute, as far as he knew, he'd never heard of classes. He didn't even know what was meant by 'classes'.

Landes came through for him again, though, and carefully described classes in his diary. His senior, Tawari -- so that's how they'd met -- had described it to him. Interestingly, Tawari was the very magus who'd brought him into the fold of magic in the first place.

The magi had ruled the world for three millennia by Landes' birth. They believed they were very advanced, though they didn't include the lives commoners lead in their consideration of 'advanced'. They were at the tail end of a declining world -- where magic was concerned -- however. The ancient high class magic resources no longer existed, and even the common, and even previously not-considered-magic, ingredients were also now rapidly becoming scarce. Their best minds said that the last vestiges of magic would vanish from this world in another thousand years at most, and the world would be nothing but barbarians fighting over scraps with clubs.

The Council of the Nines, the council of nine ring magi were acting to try and solve the issue. They'd built a massive array in the 'holy land', Symposium, that connected to a whole new world and were hoping to bring back resources from that virgin land -- some had started calling it Kenpus -- to save this one.

Landes had no idea what the world had been like before he'd been born, so he didn't have a way of comparing the current and previous states of the world to see if there really was a crisis, nor really would that affect his life much -- or so he thought at the time. Tawari at some point told him that he'd hoped he could become a battlemagus like himself, but the tower master insisted he be trained as a rune magus.

If nothing else, the drying up of magic in the world had two clear effects. First, apart from white sterling magi, no one else was supported beyond becoming a five-ring magus.

They didn't have the resources for such an endeavour. It didn't help that they felt vulgar commoners, even those that had become magi, didn't deserve such a privilege.

They'd also for the first time ever officially divided magi into two classes, battlemagi, the enforcers of the magus world who ensured the will of the Council of Nines was obeyed, and rune magi.

Everyone was trained to be rune magi, they were the bottom tier of normal magi, just above apprentice, and a few would be selected from among them to become battlemagi.

Their training focused on magic theory and alchemy and their main purpose in life was to be apprentices and assistants to archmagi.

Tawari had wanted Landes to become a battlemagus because he had the talent for it, and it would have been a better life than being a rune magus. Tawari himself was chosen to become a battlemagus because he scored eight for fire. Landes scored nine, so he was even more qualified to become a battlemagus than Tawari. Loenk had the final, and only, say in such matters, however, and he'd said no, so there was nothing that could be done for Landes.

Landes didn't know enough to understand the difference between the two classes. He was just happy enough to be a magus of any kind at all.

Tawari explained that only battlemagi were allowed some autonomy of movement. Their responsibilities outside the towers they served meant they needed to be able to leave without having to ask explicit permission from the tower master. Rune magi, however, were tower bound unless explicitly ordered to leave it to do something for their master. This freedom might not sound like too much, but it meant that battlemagi had far more opportunities to net resources for their personal use after they became five-ring magi and were thus not given anything by their masters anymore.

A few months after his first love disappeared, Landes became a first-rank rune magus and was made assistant to a five-ring senior. His studies focused in on alchemy pretty quickly, and he was soon pouring every ounce of energy he had into mastering its mystery. Even when the rebellion which would eventually tear down the magi broke out, it barely even registered with him. He didn't care about what happened outside his lab and quarters, much less outside the tower.

When he became an official apprentice, an official one-ring magus, he learned there were 130 others 'graduating' of sorts like him. He also met the slaves that served in the tower for the first time. There were over 200 of them. He'd not run into one before because he was so drunk in his books, and because they made every effort to be as invisible as possible. They were foul sights for their masters, after all. They didn't even live in the tower, but in a kind of out-house somewhere nearby.

Landes got to stay in the tower, being a magus, but only just barely. He was quite literally at the bottom of the ladder, and lived in the tower's basement. He shared his room with five other apprentices. Each could own only as much as he could put in the single drawer beneath his desk and a single chair.

He didn't get along with his roommates, mainly because they despised him for being more talented than they were, and almost destined to get a better place in the hierarchy eventually than they. It didn't help that he was quite the smoothtalker and often stepped on people's toes while sweet talking his teachers and superiors.

Chapter 63 - Magus Landes' Diary (3)

Eriksson yelled and blocked two academic stream students' way. One snapped and talked back, which got another roar out of their opponent and the fight finally broke out. Eriksson punched the offending student in the head a couple of times before the other one turned and ran. He chased the poor boy down and beat him up. He only stopped when the kid was completely covered in blood and begging through broken teeth for him to just end it. He kicked the boy twice, once in the ribs and the other between the legs and humphed back to his seat, the boy rolling on the ground behind him in his own blood and piss as his bladder gave from the last kick.

It had become a common sight where Claude's three friends were concerned. They had become thugs ruling the school with an iron fist. Not even the final years dared to mess with the four. Even the teachers were loathed to have to deal with them, not least because of their father's positions.

Claude wanted to laugh when he saw Eriksson strutting back to his seat, a few specks of blood on his clothes. Claude had been a right down thug in his previous scholastic life. Despite what things may seem like in this school, he was quite tame compared to his last time in school. He'd not sent anyone to what was the equivalent of a hospital here, yet, for one. And he generally didn't pick a fight with others without a good reason, for another -- though 'good reason' was subject to extensive interpretation. And he generally didn't have to bother with beating someone up, his three friends were more than happy to do it for him, and if he was tame compared to his previous life, they certainly were not.

He thought about the latest bit of the diary he'd read the previous night. Landes had spent most of his last entry describing the people that had been bullying him lately. He didn't describe them as thugs per se, but there was little else they could be called, and his hatred for them oozed with a thick bile that Claude found disconcerting, especially as he watched the boy stumbling to his feet in the classroom, holding his nose and picking up a few broken teeth.

Krimondo was one of the people that Landes wished would just burst into fire at some random moment, and had actually seriously considered helping do just that a couple of times. Aliya was another. She always made sure to sit next to him in classes so she could berate and embarrass him every chance she got.

Claude admired Landes. He'd written down those experiences in his diary years after they'd happened, he'd clearly not forgotten and was determined to get back his fair share when the time came.

Claude had no doubt he was bullied because they were jealous of him. He often found scorpions of lizards in his bed, or glue in his shoes. He'd even been thrown with the contents of a dustbin a couple of times. Once they'd even stolen his clothes while he was bathing, and he'd found his precious notes torn up on more than one occasion.

It was a small miracle he'd not cracked at some point, Claude thought.

Claude didn't miss a similar glint of hatred in the poor boy's eyes as he stumbled out of class, holding his teeth in his mouth, when they darted over to Eriksson one last time. He found himself wondering what he would write in his diary, and how Eriksson would be remembered by someone several hundred years down the line when they read it. Eriksson might even find himself at the bloody end of a knife in a few years if the child couldn't contain his hatred. For that matter, Claude didn't know what difference it would make that he had never personally hit that particular boy when that time came, either.

He shoved the thought aside with deliberate ardour and went home.

Landes wrote that every time before he slept or went to class, he had to triple check everything to catch as many, though not all, of the traps as possible. He never feared for his life, since murder would beget execution, but his tormentors had no qualms about putting him as close to the edge as they had reasonable certainty he could recover from.

His whole apprenticeship was thus a war of wit with his tormentors, and, as little as he would admit it to anyone, he lost more battles than he won, though he won his fair share. On the days he lost, the sea was good comfort, however, and he would often spend most of the night just listening to it and watching the waves dance under the moonlight.

He suffered a particularly bad defeat one day, and a couple of his tormentors gave him an excellent thrashing. He'd seen a silver ring on the ground and picked it up. He hadn't expected someone to have covered it in transparent glue and couldn't get it off. They claimed they'd been trying to add a protective layer to the ring with the glue, and that he'd ruined everything and beat him up for it.

He went to the cliff as usual to watch and listen to the see, and resolved to never touch gold or silver again, but someone yanked him at that very moment and started berating him. The other person seemed to think he was about to jump off the cliff and commit suicide.

He was about to complain about being yanked away from his vista when he realised the one pulling him was the same grim-faced magus that had brought him there. He later wondered whether his affection for the older man had started there because he'd been the first to treat him without contempt or some obvious alterior motive since he'd come to the tower. But he found himself trusting the magus deeply from that night on. He'd opened up to the man and told him what he'd suffered since coming to the tower.

He'd called the older man 'teacher' as was required by the tower's rules, but the man slapped him on his good cheek and told him to never call him that again. He believed only the tower's master deserved that title.

"Call me 'senior' instead," he'd said, "I won't have anyone call me teacher and won't take any disciples either."

Landes called Tawari senior from that day onward. He didn't even call more senior magi by that title, only his Senior Tawari deserved to be called senior as far as he was concerned.

The older man had just returned from a job outside the tower. He didn't disappoint the unreasonable trust Landes put in him for some strange reason. He punished each of the ones involved in the boy's bullying before sunrise the next morning. Tawari was one of the few in the tower who didn't need the master's personal approval before laying out punishments, and he used it to its full effect that day. He actually didn't care much for people bullying one another, but he considered pushing them to the edge of suicide going too far.

The apprentices stopped their bullying after that, but they never accepted him and kept him as isolated as possible. Not that he particularly minded. He'd never been looking for friends in the tower anyway. He just wanted to be left in peace so he could continue his studies.

One problem had been solved, but that only made him aware of another problem. His teachers didn't like him. He'd failed to notice it before because he'd been so caught up with keeping eyes out for any traps his tormentors might place, but now he was all too aware of it.

His teachers only taught the most essential basics and didn't bother explaining any of the even slightly more complex elements in the courses. This in particular wasn't unique to him, but he had an inordinate amount of questions, which meant that he was the one that most often got in their way, so to speak, and they despised him for it. That was why they so easily played along with the other students when they were bullying him in class and were happy to punish him disproportionately for the smallest mistakes.

He wracked his brain for several weeks but couldn't come up with a solution, so he asked Tawari for advice again.

The man didn't give him an answer, however, but only smiled bitterly. He told him he would learn why they were doing that after he paid some attention. As for getting answers for his questions, he told the boy to come ask him when he had the time instead.

Tawari didn't know what he'd gotten himself into, however, as Landes quickly brought him literal books of questions he noted down over the next couple of days. The boy paid close attention to the magus teachers for a while as well, and quickly realised that most of the other students also noted down questions to ask some chosen senior in their free time. They were careful to bring gifts and trinkets as thanks every couple of times they went as well.

So that was why they so disliked him! By asking his questions in class, he was not only basically challenging their teaching skills, he was robbing them of chances to get stuff from students who came to ask them questions privately!

He realised a week or so into his observations, however, that he was robbing them of more than just chances to get stuff. He realised one of the female students kept on visiting a particular senior at night, and would only come back the next day.

"Information is valuable, and information about magic even more so," Tawari had told him when he'd taken his observations back to the man.

"But..." Landes wanted to say that the illiterate children were taught Hez for three months for free.

"They taught you nothing but basic the absolute basics you needed to study anything else. That's to be expected. They won't do the same with the really valuable stuff. And don't think they wouldn't have skimped on that as well and made you bring them gifts to ask questions if they could. They're even lower ranked than your current teachers and have no choice but to obey the tower master's orders.

"That's also why they disappeared that quickly. They didn't want to waste any more time than absolutely necessary on you. You won't get anything but the bare minimum out of these teachers you have right now and any you might have in the future. You'll have to rely on yourself to achieve anything.

"The more well-off students pay with money, or get their families to help with the funds, others, like that girl you mentioned, have to find some other way to pay for the information. This is very common in the world of magic, and no doubt everywhere else in the world as well. Nobody is willing to just give away what they worked so hard to get, sometimes not even to their own children. Don't you make the mistake of doing that either."

"But I'm poor and penniless. I don't have magic items either. Why are you helping me then?"

"I'm investing in you. You don't have nothing now. You have talent, a great amount of it as well. You'll become someone at the top of the ladder commoners can climb, and I'll come to collect your debt."

Chapter 64 - Surprise in the Diary

Claude went to the jetty that day after school. The small fishing boat was getting its final coat of paint. It would finally be ready to sail after drying for just five more days. Claude, Welikro, and Borkal went there to help Eriksson paint his beloved ship.

Eriksson went home and brought quite a lot of ingredients for the barbecue they had to celebrate its completion. They spent most of the night talking and eating before going home.

Claude got home late. His mother was already complaining by the time he closed the front door behind him.

"Why are you home so late? You hungry? There's something in the kitchen if you are."

Claude gave her a curt response before heading to the bathroom. He was just about to head to him room when the pup started calling for him from his sister's room, but a quick scolding silenced it.

He lit up his oil lamp, flipped open the diary impatiently, and started reading. He had to admit that reading the diary was a far more interesting read than the biographies of other famous people. One wouldn't see the famous people bring up their experience of being bullied in school, for one.

But after he read through only two pages, he jumped from his bed, far too surprised to process what he had just discovered. Landes had noted his meditation technique in detail!

He hadn't dreamt he would get his big break in a diary. If he had discovered it earlier, he would've already been meditating every night! He'd thought the diaries would be a mildly interesting read at best. He didn't think they would hold his key into the world of magic! That was twice now that a diary had answered his prayer!

Then again, if he was willing to waste pages on his bullies, why wouldn't he also record the details of his training?

Claude suppressed his excitement and forced his wide eyes back to the pages.

Landes wasn't above bragging, especially not in his diary. He was quite happy to write about how he was now leagues ahead of his bullies when it came to mastering magic. He'd graduated to becoming a first-ranked rune magus well ahead of them, and for a time they had to call him 'teacher' whenever they saw him.

As expected of a genius, Claude thought.

Nevertheless, Landes didn't fail to be thankful to Tawari, who had patiently taught him every step of the way. Without the older man's guidance, he would've never become a first-ranked rune magus so quickly.

An apprentice with elemental affinity of seven or eight would usually take a year or a year and a half to become a first-rank, and that was given the apprentice received their instructors' full guidance. It could take them three years otherwise, unless they managed to figure out the key to meditation themselves.

Becoming a battlemagus was more troublesome and took at least two years more. They had to train in other magic hand sigils and techniques alongside meditation and undergo extensive physical training.

Battlemagi candidates didn't have complicated relationships with their instructors, however. Battlemagi candidates were only students, but they would eventually become the comrades-in-arms of their instructors, and nobody wanted to breed bad relations with future comrades.

The female apprentice magus, for example, the one that had stayed in the tower for five whole years, didn't have a good talent for magic according to Landes. She only had an elemental affinity of six and should've been disqualified. But her rich family paid her evaluator off and she was brought to the tower when she was fourteen.

They continued to send money to the tower for the first three years, but somehow offended the tower in the fourth year. Loenk didn't bail them out, instead watching from the sidelines as they fell to ruin. The girl was stranded at the tower without any support as a result.

Now she no longer had her family's support, she suddenly struggled to learn due to her lack of talent. She was eventually forced to sell her body to the alchemy lab's supervisor to get his backing and protect her position in the tower. Despite his support from the shadows, she still failed to become a first-rank, and Loenk eventually said that if she couldn't pass the test by the time the turned twenty, he would chase her out of the tower.

She had only two choices if she failed: either become a tower slave, or go home.

Landes didn't understand why there was such a huge difference between people with different affinity scores. Had Tawari not strictly forbade him from sharing his knowledge of the meditation technique, he might've done so out of pity.

With nobody to brag to and with whom to share his, Landes could only write his feelings down. He had already become a third-rank when he penned his diary, but he still put those feelings to paper.

To mortals, magi were scary and mysterious figures who wielded supernatural powers and could control everything. They could easily use magic to kill the savage and ferocious magic beasts and construct structures and buildings commoners didn't even dare to imagine. They were the greatest beings in the world and were worshipped by mortals even more than the gods.

Landes described clearly and simply the source of a magus' power. Through training in meditation and absorbing the unseen, but present, elemental essences in the world, the magi converted and stored it as mana they could control. The key was to imagine one's body as a vessel. The more mana a magus could store, the greater their rank.

He noted a few mysteries Tawari had told him about the world of magic.

Magi from the first to fifth ring were considered low-order magi. The division between the fifth and sixth ring was also the divider between the low and middle order. Both meditation and the effects of spells changed after crossing that divide. The knowledge required to break through was entirely monopolised by the white sterling magi. In Faslan, the fifth ring was the limit for common-born magi.

Magi of the sixth to eighth ring were mid-order magi. Loenk, a seven-ring magus, was one of them, and he was one of the elite and a member of the magic government. Nine-ring to twelve-ring magi were high order. There were currently only seven nine-ring magi in Faslan and the Council of Nines was the highest authority in the entire world. No magus dared to disregard their orders.

According to legend, magi above twelve rings had set their first foot in godhood. There hadn't been any that made it to that level in the last two millennia. Grand Archmagi were nothing but legends by Landes' time.

The key to becoming a proper magus was mastering meditation. With the shortage of magic resources getting worse, every effort had been exerted to weed out inefficient techniques.

Only three mediation techniques were made available to low-order magi and were chosen specifically because they didn't use any materials. Training alone, and some luck, was all one needed to get five rings.

Landes had drawn a complete hexagrammic diagram of the meditation formations in his diary. It and its corresponding meditation technique were collectively known as hexagram meditation.

When an apprentice began training, he had to relax his body and empty his mind of all thoughts while remaining conscious. Once he could do that, he should be able to feel the void and visualise the hexagram. His most affinite element's energy would be gathered by the hexagram. He then had to direct the energy to the hexagram's tips then gather it in his body as mana.

Once the apprentice could use the mana he stored in his body to affect the world around him -- excluding his own body -- he was considered a one-ringer.

Chapter 65 - The Decision to Learn Magic

Landes wrote a few pages of notes on the hexagram technique. Claude didn't find any trouble at all. He was afraid the technique's name might be misleading, but it was exactly what the name suggested, a technique for meditation using a hexagrammic formation. It was quite similar to what Qigong practitioners used to do back on earth.

The only thing that bothered Claude was visualising a proper hexagram in his mind. He had to carve a hexagram with his mental power in the void state and guide the essence to its six points before converting it into mana. The key question was: where should the 'void' be relative to his body?

According to the tenets of Qigong, qi was guided into the dantian before it could be circulated through the meridians. Science had disproven the existence of such channels, but that had not prevented millions of practitioners from continuing to believe in their magical abilities, especially where healing and well-being was concerned.

If the void state was more of a feeling that came with relaxing the mind, the carving of the hexagram and the accumulation of the essence did not exist merely in a mental landscape. During Qigong practice, one would have to channel qi through one's meridians and back into one's dantian. So, the void should exist somewhere in the human body for the body to be considered a container of mana. Only by activating the hexagram could one channel mana out of the body.

However, there wasn't an answer to Claude's question in the diary. Perhaps it was a question that Landes didn't even have to consider. He wrote in the diary that when training using Hexagram Meditation, one could draw in the essence photons of an element one was most attuned with and push away those that weren't. Landes had only noticed that after Tawari taught him how to. That was the crucial difference that allowed him to become a first-ranked rune magus in three short months.

The diary stated that during Hexagram Meditation, picking the essence photons alone would take up lots of effort and time. Some essence photons would even boost or annihilate each other. For example, those of the fire element would cancel out those of the water element, wood and earth would nourish each other, and light and darkness would wipe each other out.

Drawing in one suitable kind of essence photon to be converted into mana was the most efficient approach. A practitioner didn't need to undergo magic talent evaluation to know which element he was most attuned with. He would know automatically during Hexagram Meditation; the essence photon that could be sensed and drawn in the fastest was the one the user had the most affinity with.

Another point to note was that apart from elemental affinity, a practitioner's mental power was also a huge factor. Landes believed that the reason he was able to become a first-ranked rune magus in just three month was because he had strong mental power.

Back when he was tested for his talent, Landes scored nine in fire affinity and eight in mental power. So under Tawari's guidance, he drew in only fire essence during his meditations. Thanks to his powerful mental power, he managed it without trouble. He could also accelerate the speed with which he attracted fire essence and filled up the six triangles of the hexagram before converting it into mana.

Claude didn't sleep until he completed the diary.

At the end, Landes noted many alchemical formations and insights as well as some of his experiences and thoughts as an assistant to other rune magi. But those things were a little too early for Claude to learn.

He read the part about Hexagram Meditation three times properly and memorised most of its contents. What he had to consider now was whether he should start practicing according to the diary and master Hexagram Meditation.

That was a choice he would not get to turn back on, so he had to really think it through. It wasn't some martial arts manual that would make one instantly invincible after training in it. It was magic, the biggest taboo on the continent of Freia. The consequences of becoming a magus were endless days of darkness and hiding. When others realised he knew magic, what awaited him was nothing but pursuits and executions. Perhaps he would even have to escape from the continent itself.

Maybe he could only relax after going to the island called Siklos where the 'evil magi' were exiled to. However, could he really go there? That diary was something Landes left behind and he was a key figure that aided Regius Au Syr in his revolt against the key figures of the world of magic. Without the modified guns and the magic crystal gunpowder, Baron Regius Au Syr wouldn't have been able to successfully attack the sacred land of magic, Symposium, and exile the rest of the magi away from Freia to Siklos.

If he really travelled to that island, how would he explain the legacy of magic he inherited? Before he could ascertain the points of view of the magi on Siklos, he would never head there. Who knew whether the magi there documented Landes' betrayal? If that were the case, he would be giving his life away for nothing if he headed there. There was a right time and place to die, but that was definitely not it.

If he didn't learn magic, he could continue to live out the relatively safe life his father planned for him. After a year and a half, he would be heading to the continent of Nubissia and joining the godfather he hadn't met before, Jerrihausen Van Cruz, in the Tyrrsim colony. Even though the life he would lead there was full of unknowns, it would be far better than having to worry constantly whether he would be discovered by others after learning magic.

Then again, he wasn't willing to give up on magic. Of all the things that could've happened to him, he had transmigrated to a world with magic! Yet, he couldn't learn it freely because of concerns for his own safety, making it such a cruel tease.

Claude knew that this was a crucial choice that would set the course of his life. The first was building his career in the military. That path was relatively stable and safe and predictable to some extent. Perhaps, he could become someone reputable like his father and live out his life in peace. The other was the path of magic, something which he was completely not ready for. It was a path that was fraught with danger and darkness. Perhaps he would die in his youth and die an unknown death from being hunted down.

Do I really want to learn magic? He knew that his mind was already made up. No matter how many reasons he could think of to not learn magic, there was no way he could convince himself to do so. He was a transmigrator, one that happened to fulfil all the conditions to start learning magic. He couldn't suppress his desire to understand the mystic arts.

The sky had already brightened. Not long after, the bell of the war god shrine rang and roused Whitestag from its silent slumber. Soon, the streets began to fill up with its usual busyness.

Claude rubbed his face to freshen up. He had stayed up all night again and would have to get some sleep in school. But since he already made his decision, he resolved himself to start practicing Hexagram Meditation that night to take the first step onto the path of magic.

On the way to school Borkal gave them all good news. Their business venture which required one thale from each of them had finally concluded. They managed to sell 172 targets within one short month. Apart from keeping a small sum of the money as reserves, each of them could get three thales in profit. That news gladdened Eriksson and Welikro greatly. Claude only smiled to show his happiness, but he didn't really care for making money.

After class started, Borkal secretly told Claude that his shaliun could possibly be sold after another short while. His father had invited a group of friends to his house for a gathering and they were talking about gathering funds for their new venture. Borkal had pretended to keep his stuff and 'accidentally' dropped his shaliun gold coin on the ground, catching many of his fathers' friends' attention. He said that he noticed many people staring at the shaliun in his hand when he went to pick it up.

Claude asked him whether his father would mind him doing such a thing.

But Borkal merely smiled like a fox that had managed to steal a chicken. He said that he had told his father about everything already. His father also knew that Claude had another shaliun to keep as well. To his father, having one for collection was more than enough and there was no point in keeping two. He even praised Claude for his economical mind based on his decision to sell his extra coin.

Borkal gladly told Claude that it wouldn't take three days before one of his father's friends made an excuse to come over and ask about the coin Borkal dropped on the ground. They would definitely offer a good price then, as coin collection was quite popular among his father's acquaintances. Having a shaliun gold coin in one's collection was something worth showing off.

"Alright, I'll leave it all to you and treat you all to a good meal after it sells for a good price," said Claude casually, before he started to make up for his lost sleep.

After school, Claude turned Eriksson's invitation to fish at his jetty down and rushed home quickly. He wanted to get a little more sleep so that he had enough energy during the night to practise the meditation technique at night.

Before dinner, Angelina came upstairs to wake Claude. He washed up before he went downstairs and told his father about his new hobby of learning the ancient Hez language. He justified its usefulness by saying that many languages on Freia were offshoots of the same language, and that perhaps he could find a job as an ambassador after he retired from service. If that didn't work, he could still try to become a translator.

That explanation was enough to satisfy Morssen, so he no longer chided Claude about using too much oil for his lamp at night. After a simple dinner, he played with his siblings and the snowhound for a bit before excusing himself for his 'studies' and returning to his little attic. He could finally start Hexagram Meditation.

According to the diary, there was no set posture that had to be adopted before starting. One didn't have to sit cross-legged and back straight. There was nothing like that. He could sit or lie down, whichever he found more comfortable. No matter what posture he took, the crucial point was entering void state as soon as possible.

Claude experimented for half an hour with standing, sitting, lying down, but still wasn't able to find a posture he could be relaxed with. He felt stiff all over no matter what he did. His hands or legs wouldn't be able to feel relaxed no matter what he did. Sometimes, his back would itch and he would feel the urge to scratch it. After a while, he started to get impatient...

Until he saw the silver moon hanging in the sky. A spark of inspiration flashed through his mind. He climbed out through the window of his attic and lied down on the roof under the moonlight and gradually felt himself loosen up. Soon, his consciousness drifted into a seemingly empty place...

Chapter 66 - Claude on the Roof

Amidst the silent void, Claude traced a hexagram with his mental power. Soon, countless points of light appeared in the darkness around him, peppering the void like stars in the night sky. The lights were multi-colored and moved inexorably towards the hexagram.

So this is what essence photons looks like... I can't usually see them with my normal eyes, I have to use my mental power to sense them, Claude's thoughts echoed audibly in the endless void, disembodied from his perspective.

The pinpricks of light moved ever faster, cascading into the hexagram.

The red pinpricks slowly outdid their multi-coloured brethren and soon dominated the scene. Red ones should be fire, so the green ones ought to be wood. What were the blue ones then? Water? The white ones were light, but what were the dark ones? Darkness or earth? No, the yellow ones were earth, so the black ones were indeed darkness... but what about the silver ones? The gold ones were probably lightning, and if the blue ones were water, then what colour was wind?

Wait, to which element was he most attuned? Which should he focus on attracting? He stared at the pinpricks and noticed the red ones outdoing the others. That certainly made things a lost simpler for him. If he really had the greatest affinity for fire, then he could just follow Landes' direction directly; he wouldn't have to worry about how well suited they were to his element.

Following the instructions on the diary, Claude used his mental power to rotate the hexagram so only red pinpricks would flow into it.

The six triangles soon flashed brightly and, illusion or not, Claude felt the hair on his body stand up from the heat. He connected the six triangles and guided the essence into the central hexagon. The light flowed into the central hexagon like water through a funnel, or flames through a hole. Unlike the triangles, the hexagon didn't fill up, the light simply vanished into it like the animations of light falling into a black hole he'd seen at an observatory back on earth. There was one change, however, the lines that were the hexagon's borders thickened slightly, like someone was tracing over them again.

Claude started trying to guide more pinpricks into the triangles once they were empty, only to realise there were none left.

He sighed and opened his eyes. He should wait several more days before doing it again. Landes said that one should not meditate too often. Meditation drained mental energy, and it was not healthy to drain one's reservoir so much so frequently. Claude, however, didn't feel like he had the last time he'd exhausted himself. That said, he had no intention of trying his luck. Experiencing that pain once in his lifetime was once too many already.

He turned his gaze to the sandglass next to him. Only half an hour had passed. He was surprised. He'd half expected time to fly by during his meditation, but that seemed to not be the case. His mental energy was also far from exhausted. He could do this four more times right now without emptying himself completely.

He got out of his room onto the roof, sat down, and got to work again. He drew the hexagram again, and found that what had at first looked like retraced lines, were in fact the three dimensional expansion of the hexagon in the middle of the larger formation. Instead of the two dimensional face it had originally, it was now turning into a three dimensional hexagonal prism.

He continued his meditation until he heard the war god shrine's bell announce the morning. He didn't remember how many times he'd completed his meditation cycle, if indeed he'd not simply just been meditating continuously on a single cycle the whole night. Despite that, he didn't feel any exhaustion. On the contrary, he had never felt livelier.

For all his diligence in taking notes, Landes had not mentioned the changes the formation would undergo. Claude would only be a first-ranker once he could fill up that bottomless pit.

It might have been an honest omission on Landes' part, he had penned the diary years after the fact.

No wonder Landes had been so proud of taking just three months to fill up that well, if it kept growing as he poured more essence into it, how long would it take him to do the same?

Claude suspected he had a high fire affinity as well, how high he didn't know, and his mental power was at least as strong as Landes', but he doubted he could match Landes' feat. He told himself he would be happy with doing it in six months.

He couldn't do anything else until he became a first-ranker, anyway. He didn't have any useable mana, much less knew how to channel it, and he doubted he would until he finished filling up that bottomless pit. It could be done using external sources of mana, but magic resources were all but extinct now.

Claude stopped reading the diary. There was no point in reading more until he could put the information to actual use, anyway. He would only frustrate himself by knowing what he couldn't do yet.

He didn't feel the need to sleep for the next two days, despite neither sleeping nor meditating again for the two days. He decided he would stop sleeping entirely, and meditate instead, since it seemed to work even better at replenishing his energy levels.

He woke up from one of his meditation sessions three nights later to find the house's lamps burning and a crowd outside.

He wondered what was going on that had the whole building awake, but then he heard the rushed steps clambering up to his room and his little brother and sister crying.

"Claude! Claude..." he heard his father call as he slammed against his bedroom door.

"I... I'm here!" he answered, uncertain what was going on.

"You.... what are you doing on the roof?!" his father yelled as he burst into the room.

"The... the attic was a little too stuffy, so, I... I got up the roof for some fresh air and fell asleep," he answered, quickly, "What's going on?"

"What's going on? You dare ask?!" his father snapped, "Get back inside!"

Claude re-entered his attic obediently.

It turned out that the town guards had spotted him on the roof during their midnight rounds. They'd thought someone was trying to break into the building through the roof and charged to the house and woke up his father. The commotion woke the rest of the building up as well.

His father chided him for nearly half an hour before he gave the boy a chance to speak.

"Well? Tell me you're up on the roof just because it's cooler up there! You woke up the whole building and did it falling asleep as well! What if you fell off the roof? This is ridiculous... Where do you get that kind of courage..."

"Umm... Sir," the guard responsible for the commotion stuttered, "We'll take our leave since the situation's been resolved. Apologies for waking you."

"Don't apologize. You did the right thing," Claude's father replied, rationality winning back control over his mind, "Thank you for your efforts. If it hadn't been for you, my foolish son might've really ended up in big trouble."

He saw the men off with a smile, then glowered at his son again.

"It's four in the morning. Get back in bed! I'll deal with you in the morning!"

Chapter 67 - Repercussions

Claude's father was angry at him for the rest of the week. Claude did his best to act the same as always towards him, but he would only get cold snorts at his attempts to start conversation. It had looked like things were on the brink of going back to normal two days after the incident, but then the Whitestag Dawn reported the incident, and his father went back to angry snorts.

The newspaper at least did his father the courtesy of not outright saying it was Claude, referring to a 'Mister A' instead, but everyone knew it was him. His father was furious, as much at the newspaper for making his son into a laughingstock, as at his son for giving them the chance. Things were only made worse by his colleagues teasing him about it every chance they got.

He had to hear things like 'your son didn't sleep on the roof last night again, did he?' every morning.

At least half his anger at Claude, however, stemmed from his frustration at his son's recklessness, rather than just irritation at him giving his father a bad name.

As angry as he was at the guards for making a scene, he was thankful that they'd spotted his son before anything happened. He could handle gossip, horrid as it was, but he couldn't handle losing his, thus far, only decent son -- Bloweyk was still too young to be either good or bad.

He saw how the constables in question walked on eggshells around him despite his assurances, so he freed up one afternoon to have lunch with the captain. That went farther towards repairing his reputation than he'd thought since everyone that saw it thought he was at least someone who knew how to be grateful for receiving help.

As for the newspaper, Morssen called for a large meeting the moment he returned to the town hall with the agenda of tackling tax evasion and town hygiene. The factories and workshops in all of Whitestag went under a huge investigation campaign and the slightest error was punished with a fine and an order to rectify the errors in as little time as possible.

He came down on the newspaper especially harshly. He made sure to find as many issues with them as possible, coming up with 13 in the end. The fines nearly bankrupted the newspaper and Morssen only let up after the investors came to him begging for a reprieve and after they convinced Sir Fux to put in several words for them. His actions on that front, however, undid the good will he'd won with the public with his lunch meeting with the captain.

Claude didn't have things any easier. His father banned him from the roof and very nearly boarded up his window to make sure he didn't slip up on occasion, and his schoolmates mocked him relentlessly. His nickname from that day on was Claude the Roofer, or just Roofer.

Claude didn't mind nicknames himself, but Eriksson and Welikro completely lost it and beat up half the school. That only made things worse, however, as the victims turned from playfully teasing to vindictive. None of the four friends had ever gotten along with the rest of the children. They were the four 'young masters' as they would have been called in some novels back on earth, and they deserved the names through and through. Claude had gotten a lot better since the transmigrator had taken over, but he was still very much one of 'the four' as they were known, though he knew quite a few had taken to adding 'bastards' at the end of the name.

His mind was elsewhere, however. He wasn't so much concerned about his father's anger as he was with his banning from the roof. He could do only half as many meditation sessions a night in his room. He could probably squeeze in a fourth if he really tried, but the queasiness and slight headache after the third told him he'd be best served by sticking to three.

That reminded him of the moon's influence on him and made him wonder why he'd not seen any notes on it in Landes' diary. Surely he should have noticed the difference between meditating indoors and meditating under the moon, and if he could notice that, then he would certainly have deduced it was because the moon was having an influence on his mental power.

He refused to believe that, even if Landes hadn't figured it out, or even noticed it, then, in all the thousands of years magi were commonplace in the world, no one had ever noticed it. Either the effect was only there for very few magi who never really bothered telling others, or it was intentionally kept secret.

Either way, he couldn't meditate under the moon, which also meant he wasn't refreshed by a night of meditation, and it showed after a few days. He was still energised by the meditation, but his body was showing strain. Luckily it was Sunday, and he could sleep through most of the day without any trouble.

Unhappy, but resigned to his fate for the time being, Claude took up sleeping again. Despite that, he still only got five hours of sleep, but sleep right after meditation was much more effective so it was still enough, his youth also helped.

The only bit of good news he got that entire week was that Borkal had finally gotten a buyer for the shaliun. He'd gotten a good price for it, too; twelve whole crowns. His friends nearly fell off their chairs when they heard it. A shaliun was worth just two crowns at the bank, so who would pay 12 crowns for it? The other two immediately wanted to throw their coins at Borkal, but he said he'd only sold the one with a healthy helping of luck and could not do it with theirs again. He'd found someone looking for a crown for his collection, and the man was not interested in more than one.

Borkal had put the coin up for auction when he heard of the man looking for one, and got him to bid it up to that price. Even the man himself felt a little over charged for it, but he would get the worth back in a couple of decades. They were not being produced anymore, they could not be produced anymore since the alchemical techniques used in their minting were lost with the magi, so they only got less with every passing year. Their rarity, and the reason for it, made them very demanded by every collector worth his salt, however, so their value was destined to increase no matter what.

Borkal's explanation snapped the other two boys out of their frenzy. Since he reasoned the coins would just get more expensive, they wouldn't lose anything by not selling them now. It wasn't like they needed the money, anyway.

Eriksson had some good news as well. His boat was finally completely finished and they could go hunting along the lake's shore next weekend.

They'd initially planned to go hunting two weekends earlier, but the painting took a lot longer than had originally been anticipated. They'd then thought they'd go the previous Sunday, but Claude had his trouble and they didn't want to ask his dad in his state.

"Are you sure you're not asking us to go there and work our arses off again?" Borkal asked, suspicious and Welikro nodded.

The two made the mistake once, and their bodies had yet to recover. They were not about to do it again.

"No," Eriksson said solemnly, his ears red, "Uncle Pegg finished everything yesterday. You're too suspicious!"

Chapter 68 - Preparatory Work

They still had two days to prepare for the trip.

"We only have one day of break, so we won't be staying the night. We don't have to buy--" Borkal began.

"Can't we just set out Saturday night?" Eriksson interjected, "The boat is two meters shorter than others, but there's still enough space for the four of us. If it doesn't rain, we can even have a barbecue."

"Great idea!" Welikro agreed immediately.

Borkal thought it was a fine thing as well. They wouldn't be in any danger as long as the ship itself was fine. Summer was here. The days kept getting warmer and the number of fishermen spending a night on the water grew as well. A couple of the richer townsfolk even rented a boat for a night or two.

Claude wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea. He wanted to meditate, not waste his time fishing. A day or two missed wouldn't be a big deal, but he didn't want to start a habit.

He'd understood the value of consistent hard work too late in his previous life, he didn't want to waste the chance he'd been given this time. He'd caught on two weeks before the final exams, but that was too late. He didn't have enough time to make up and didn't qualify for either Peking or Tsinghua University. His homeroom teacher always said he had the intelligence but not the work ethic. If only he'd worked hard...

There was no point in crying over spilt milk, and he had his second chance, so he shook himself.

His attention returned to the outside world just as Eriksson declared they would leave Saturday night.

"Huh? When did I agree?" he asked.

"You didn't object, so you agreed," Eriksson said sneakily, "Not that your disagreement would change the plans, the three of us are already in agreement."

Claude smiled bitterly, but didn't press the matter.

Borkal and Eriksson got to the business of shopping lists and soon they were all off to do the shopping. Claude was dragged along, but he had little say in the matter. He decided he might as well enjoy it and paid for everything. Including a meal for the four.

The four once again wanted to go to the old tavern, which was a bit of an issue since he was bound to run into his father. He didn't think his father would make a scene in the tavern, especially not since they'd only just started recovering from the newspaper article, but he would not be spared once the two were alone at home. He might even take Claude's money 'to keep him from blowing it all'.

Borkal's father had promised not to tell anyone, but if he spent lavishly on a meal, his father would get sniff in the nose, and Borkal's father, promise or no promise, would spill the beans the moment Claude's father started asking questions.

His father would not let dead dogs lie once he learnt what kind of money Claude had, it was a question whether he'd do it if the sum was about that Claude had made from the hunting trip, but he would definitely not stay quiet when the sum in question was worth more than a year of his salary.

Not that Claude knew what to do with his money. He'd panicked when he realised he didn't have any money left, but now that he had it, he realised he didn't know what to do with it.

His friends weren't troubled, however, he could always spend it on good food for them, they certainly weren't going to complain. He'd offered to let them pick whatever they wanted, but while they knew exactly what they wanted when it came to fishing and hunting gear, they were lost when it came to food.

It didn't help that the most expensive stuff was seafood, most of which they could get from fishing, which they were going to do.

Land-loving animals' meat was an option, but it wasn't a rarity in any of their homes. They were well-off enough that, while it was not a daily thing, they had meat at least once a week, probably more like twice. So they just got a couple good cuts of mutton and beef. Eriksson bought three chicken's weight of wings; he was dead set on having more of Claude's roast wings. They weren't expensive, though. The country's poor spice knowledge made it that meat that wasn't tasty in its own right was mostly fed to pets, so the wings were cheap.

They made sure to get some fruit and good bread as well. Fruit was a big part of the town's agriculture, so that wasn't expensive either. They didn't buy the fruit and bread yet, however. Such things became rotten or stale quickly, so they reserved that for Saturday afternoon.

Despite buying rather lavish volumes, it didn't add up to much. In all, the food for their trip only cost Claude a thale. Borkal, shyly -- which was a surprise -- insisted on getting four bottles of blueberry wine. Welikro wanted to get a barrel of blackweat ale instead.

It might not have sounded like much to Claude, but even his father's salary was just three thales a month, so it was really a ridiculously extravagant purchase.

What was done was done, however, and the four headed to the jetty. Borkal and Eriksson had also gotten charcoal, fishing lines and a lantern and some oil. For that, they popped out of school after lunch one afternoon and went to Wakri's shop.

"Ten packets of medium gunpowder," Claude said.

Borkal nodded as well. It was time to up their ranges. Claude didn't doubt they'd eventually have to switch back to the short range gunpowder once their money ran out, and it wouldn't be easy. Becoming poor was easy, becoming rich was not.

That didn't mean he was going to keep using the cheaper stuff just so he could stretch his money some. There was no point in settling for inferior material when he could afford better.

"Wait, Claude, shouldn't we buy long-range pellets instead? We don't have to worry about hitting anyone out on the lake, so why not try it out?" Borkal asked.

Claude wanted to test it out as well, so the suggestion was all he needed to convince him to go all out.

"Alright."

Welikro teared up silently beside them. His old gun couldn't handle anything more powerful than short-range powder, so he didn't get to shoot at the longer ranges.

Eriksson didn't bother with the land lubbers and their guns. They were useless at sea, anyway. The only gunpowder weapons useful on the water were cannons, and only en masse at that. They might, just might, be worth something on a calm lake, but they were completely useless in the slightest swell.

He'd only bothered with his short-barrel last time because they'd only had Welikro's gun back then. Now that both the others had muskets, there was not reason to bring it along. He didn't hunt with it either, so it was not going to be useful for even that. It was meant purely for self-defence, and the lake had no dangers so bad they each just had to have a musket with them.

Claude made another pass at the shelves, but nothing reacted to him. He did it a couple of times, but gave up when he came up empty the third time.

"I thought you were going to buy toys for your little brother and sister again," Welikro asked.

"They don't really need anything now they have Pluto. I would have gotten them something if something stood out, but this is all common stuff, and pretty old, too."

Wakri heard him and looked up.

"I don't order those things anymore. Once those things are gone, they're gone. I heard there's one more store, Hurian's in the slums, that still has some of the stuff, but that's all. I was actually thinking of selling the stuff to him. They're just taking up space here anyway, no one even looks at them anymore."

Claude didn't know this Hurian, but it looked like Eriksson and Borkal did.

"Hurian's back?" Eriksson asked, delighted.

"He wasn't leaving in the end?" Borkal chimed as well.

Wakri nodded.

"Who's Hurian?" Claude asked.

"A peddler. He usually travels all over the place, but it looks like he's decided to set up permanent shop," Borkal explained.

"He's a good old guy," Eriksson added, "He likes children and loves to drink. He often tells a the street urchins by the docks his wild stories after a night's drinking. He has quite a few, but I suppose that's to be expected when you travel as much as he does. His malt candies are great, too."

"He said he was going to the royal capital a few years ago, I didn't think he would be back already," Borkal added as well.

Chapter 69 - Nighttime Cruise and Fishing Net

Claude headed home after school that Saturday, changed into a fresh set of clothes, and stuffed some extra underwear into his bag. They would be on the lake for a full day and night and he didn't know if they would go swimming at some point. There was no harm in being prepared. He got his musket out from under his bed just as gingerly as the first time, slung it over his shoulder, and headed downstairs.

His little brother stopped him in the living room, and even the pup came to say his hellos. Claude said goodbye to the two, his little sister, and his mother, and left.

He got to the jetty, and nearly fell over when he saw the boat.

"Eriksson... You have so much stuff on the boat! Can we even fit?" he nearly shouted.

"No worries," Eriksson answered with a calm, straight face, "I brought just two nets and one purse seine. They look tall stacked up together, but the boat will be practically empty once we deploy them. We'll have more than enough space."

Claude shook his head with a bitter smile.

"You make it sound so easy. They're the same nets your dad uses on his ship. What are they doing on a small boat? I doubt our catch will be as good as you think. Well, I damn well hope it isn't, otherwise you'll sink the boat!"

"They're not the same nets my dad uses," Eriksson said with a smile, "I borrowed them from our neighbours. They're new. I've been asked to test them out."

Claude finally caught up. The Welinda household lived next to Eriksson's family and specialized in making and fixing nets. Eriksson recently became acquainted with Madam Welinda. There was a tradition among the fishing folk in Whitestag to break in new nets by soaking them in the lake for three days straight. They would only be sold if they came out with a catch and no damage.

Since Eriksson was going to spend a night on the lake, he decided to do Madam Welinda a favor and test out her new nets. They both won that way; she got her nets tested, and Eriksson got to keep anything he caught.

"Where are we going, then?" Claude asked, checking the boat.

Most of it was filled with net. Eriksson had only left enough space for the four boys to huddle together around the steering paddle.

"Just wait. I had Boa tell Uncle Pegg to bring us a tarpaulin from the storehouse. We'll cover the nets and sit on them."

One fast rule among fishermen was that one never walked on an open net. It was very easy to get your foot caught in it, and a fall on a rocking boat easily ended badly. Not to mention that if something caught the net and pulled it off the ship somehow while you were standing on it, it could easily catch your foot and pull you overboard along with it.

And then there was the additional consideration that the nets here were not made of nylon like the ones Claude knew from back on earth. They were easily damaged by footfalls.

He had to give it to Eriksson, in the end. The boy had thought things through at least.

"Fine," Claude gave in, "Only Boa's here? What about Wero?"

"He'll be here soon."

Borkal arrived with the tarpaulin not too long after, and jumped happily when he saw Claude.

"Great! Come take the thing, I'm dying!"

Claude put down his musket and took the tarpaulin, complaining.

"Why not ask Eriksson?"

"He said he's too worn out from the nets. He wouldn't even come off the boat!"

"Are you an idiot?" Claude said as he hauled the tarpaulin on his shoulder, "How could he have brought so many nets on board himself? He obviously got some other schmuck to help him!"

Welikro came around the corner at that moment. Borkal saw him and called out again.

"Go fetch the bucket of worms from Uncle Pegg's house!"

They laboured to put down the cover, and got onboard, bucket of worms and all.

"Let's get going. It's getting late," Borkal told Eriksson, who was undoing the moorings.

Eriksson pointed at the long punt pole.

"Someone get that and push us off. We don't have to row today, the wind's strong enough. Boa, help me with the sails when we leave the jetty. Oh, and remember to hang out the lantern. Claude, light it up and hang it on the pole."

The boat slowly drifted away from the jetty.

"They're really strong tonight," Borkal half-murmured, staring at the bulgin sail from his perch on the cover, "The boat's really rolling, too... It feels like it'll capsize any moment--"

"--Shut up!" Eriksson snapped, "Fatty, don't put it that way! The fuck are you saying? Don't you have anything better to do?"

Claude half expected that reaction. This was Eriksson's love, after all. Borkal should have known better than to insult his love.

"What the heck? I was only telling the truth! It's not like I'm cursing the boat to actually flip! Are you that eager for an argument?" Borkal snapped back.

"Stop bickering! And Boa, don't go insulting Eriksson's woman! Especially not on her maiden voyage." Claude played peacemaker, "And Eyke, where are we going again?"

"Northwest Shore. The swamp there is perfect for a bird hunt. You can practice shooting there tomorrow. There also aren't that many boats there, so we can find a place to deploy the nets easily."

Eriksson took a look at the bulging sails.

"They're strong tonight. We'll get there in just two hours."

Another two hours... Claude wondered if he should give meditating a go.

"I'll take a short nap, then. Move over," Claude said, shoving Borkal aside unceremoniously.

Borkal shifted unwillingly.

"What's with you lately, Claude? I always see you sleeping in class, too. Are you a baby or something?"

He was right, sleeping in class would only make people more suspicious. But what would he do? He couldn't just meditate less...

"The class is too boring," he answered as incidentally as he could, "When do you ever see me sleep during the afternoon classes? And if I sleep now, I can be on night duty instead of you two. You always fall asleep anyway."

"I guess you're right," Welikro agreed from the side, "The instructors always just recite the textbooks. I feel sleepy even though I'm not tired," Welikro agreed.

He was also an avid morning class sleeper. Claude was a newcomer but he was already outdoing the old hands. Welikro only slept from time to time, but Claude slept almost every day.

Borkal and Eriksson never joined them. They usually just played around -- monster chess, usually. They were allowed to do so since the instructors weren't that attentive. The instructors wanted to be there as little as the students did, so they usually left the kids to do what they wanted as long as they didn't disturb the rest of the class.`

Claude had wanted to meditate right away, but things weren't right for that. His senses to the outside world was completely cut off when he meditated. And he couldn't afford it with so many boys around, not to mention he was on a rocking ship with a lot of loose stuff. He couldn't afford to not be aware of what was going on around him.

He kept going back and forth between wanting to meditate and deciding it was too risky for several minutes until he fell asleep for real.

He didn't get to sleep long, but when he opened his eyes, he was greeted with a starscape. Rubbing his face, he sat up and realized Welikro was holding the helm with Eriksson beside him.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"An hour or so," Wellikro murmured groggily.

"How much longer until we arrive?"

"Soon. See the grassy area by the bank? We have to just a bit further than that," Eriksson said.

The mountains silhouettes loomed in the distance behind the shore, their feet buried beneath the reeds in question.

It didn't look far away, but it was quite far from them. They continued on for half an hour before Eriksson stopped to test the depth.

"We're close enough," he said after a moment, "Wake Boa up. We'll deploy the nets first, then the purse seine."

Borkal, having just been awoken, was quite groggy. If not for Claude holding him, he might've rolled right off the boat. The shock was enough to startle him completely awake. He helped Claude roll the tarpaulin up and followed Eriksson's instructions and deployed the two nets. Each was ten metres long, but just three wide. They could be deployed in water three meters deep and more.

After deploying the nets, they sailed some ten more minutes and deployed the purse seine. This one was around 20 meters long and four wide, and it caused quite a lot of ripples in the water.

The boat was finally empty. Eriksson opened the cabin and took out a few towels.

"Wash your faces, mates."

Borkal submerged the towel into the cold lakewater and squeezed it dry. As he wiped his face, he asked, "Can we start barbecuing now? I'm feeling rather hungry."

"Wait ten more minutes or so. We'll see what we get when we pull the net up first. If we set up the stuff right now, we won't have any place to pull the purse seine up to. I want to see whether we can get some fish for dinner," said Eriksson.

Welikro on the other hand generously took out a paper bag from the cabin. "Let's have some honeyed and buttered bread to fill our stomachs for the time being."

The sack of fist-sized bread was quickly emptied by the four of them in a hurry. As it was about time, Eriksson gave the order to pull up the purse seine.

That effort was quite tiring. They couldn't just pull the seine up from one end only. Two people had to haul it up together so as to let the net come up to the ship in a semicircular shape. After that, they would pull on the string of the purse seine and reel in the whole thing. When the string was tied up securely to the net, the fish within wouldn't be able to escape.

They only managed to bring the net up after thirty minutes or so. They didn't get much fish, only seven to eight of them. But three of them were longtail swordfish about the length of a foot, so they wouldn't lack any fish for the barbecue that night.

After redeploying the net, their barbecue finally began.

Chapter 70 - Night Fishing

Claude busied himself with the barbecue while Welikro looked at the three small lanterns as he munched on his beef skewer. Eriksson, who had always loved to fish, put the bait on three rods and cast the lines the moment the barbecue started. He had four fish just half an hour later. No wonder the locals believed fishing at night was better than during the day.

Eriksson helped Claude skewer the meat from the side as he watched the wings roast on the spit -- his mouth watering -- and nearly drove Claude insane with his constant inquisition into their state. Borkal, unlike the other three, just lazed around, a bottle of blueberry wine in hand, fork in the other.

Claude brushed seasoning on the wings again and flipped them before calling his stalker over.

"Don't rush, it'll be done in a bit," he half-shouted as the boy nearly stormed off the boat to get to him.

Claude stole a piece of the mutton as he spoke.

One of the three lanterns suddenly started swaying. Welikro reacted immediately, instinctively yanking on the rod.

"I need some help over here! It's a big'un!"

The fish nearly pulled him off the boat a moment later, but Eriksson caught him just in time. The boy's eyes were glued to the water as his hands searched for the catchnet. The two wrestled the fish for quite a while, but finally got it into the net and onto the boat.

"A redback greenscale," Eriksson announced, hauling it up as high as he could in the net, "About a foot and a half and... probably six catties..." he said through strained lips.

The fish was a specialty of the town, but had a raw and soiled taste if not prepared properly. The fishermen usually dried them into cajuns for winter.

"Into the tank it goes!" Claude shouted, opening the hatch.

With the fish safely inside the ship, Claude served his wings and got to work on one of the longtails Eriksson caught earlier.

Welikro washed his hands with a desperate fervour for a few moments before grabbing a couple of wings from Eriksson's plate before the rest could vanish down the boy's throat.

Claude quite enjoyed roasting longtail. They weren't a difficult fish to handle, and their fillets only took three minutes to finish. It went onto the plate as well with a bit of salt and was ready to be eaten. Some put sauces and other spices on -- such as Welikro -- but Claude preferred to savour the fish's natural flavours.

Welikro got to work on one of the other longtails as well once he finished his wings.

"Aren't you gonna pay attention to the lanterns?" Claude asked as he watched the two remaining lanterns bob softly in the air..

While night sessions usually had richer hauls, it was harder to fish then. The darkness hid normal bobbers, but luckily the fishermen had an answer: small, fist-sized lanterns. They were tied to the line just a metre from the rod. When a fish grabbed the bait, they'd tug on the line, which made the lanterns bob about furiously.

"No need. That one put up a big fuss--" Welikro shoved a greasy thumb at the tank hatch. "-- and probably scared the rest away. I doubt we'll have another bite for at least half an hour."

The boy bathed his fish in spices as he spoke.

Claude shook his head in horror. Welikro might as well just eat the spices. There was no way even a single scale of the fish's flavour was left in that thing. His head stopped shaking only long enough to take a sip of blueberry wine.

"Give me some," Welikro said, violated fish in hand.

Claude shook his head again, more out of resignation than flabbergastment, and poured the ignoramus a cup.

"Nice and sweet," Welikro announced, savouring the aftertaste of the cup he'd just downed, "Too bad it's so weak. They only make them for women these days... Eyke, give us some real alcohol! The barrel of ale is over there," he shoved a spiced finger in the general direction of the front of the boat.

Claude just continued shaking his head. He wondered if the bout of dizziness he now felt was because of his shaking head or some other frustration incidentally called Welikro.

Borkal didn't like strong liquor, but he was addicted to blueberry wine. They were all sixteen, and none of them dared to drink at home. If they were lucky, their fathers might give them a cup of weak ale on a festive occasion. All of them, however, had sampled alcohol long before their fathers had started giving them a cup here and there. They were teenagers, and naturally just had to do anything and everything forbidden to them.

Claude had gone through, and come out the other side of, that phase once before, so he was less impulsive than his three friends. But even he could not completely escape the dictates of his hormone-overdosed teen-boy body. Welikro and Eriksson drank some, but they had yet to find an alcohol they liked.

Ironically, Borkal, despite being the one that drank the most, had the lowest alcohol tolerance of the four. He never stopped before he passed out, but luckily that didn't take much, and that seemed to be exactly where he was headed tonight.

Eriksson polished five wings before a burp signalled his satisfaction. He slammed a hammer into the lid of the barrel, plopping it into the ale beneath and dunked his cup into it after taking the lid out again.

The ale was bitter, but it was great at refreshing the drinker. Welikro polished two cups in a couple of seconds before his pace mellowed. Eriksson, on the other hand, had just half a cup before calling it quits and reaching for a pack.

"I almost forgot about this. Give it a try, Claude."

Claude took a look at the little balls the size of fingertips inside the paper bag.

"What are these?"

"Just try them."

He took one and put it in his mouth.

What the hell, was that malt candy? They even had that? He recalled a hawker dressed like a farmer would show up around his school in his past life with a basket of the stuff. He'd break off small pieces to sell from a single, solid chunk.

"This... this is malt candy..." Claude said hesitantly.

He didn't know whether it was called that here. Eriksson had mentioned it once, but he hadn't been paying attention.

"Yup, it's Hurian's malt candy. The recipe's been passed down for several generations in his family."

Eriksson didn't mind that Claude figured it out so quickly. He handed the bag to Welikro as he spoke.

"Didn't we hear Hurian set up shop in town? I went there after school and saw these--" He pointed at the bag. "--It's one fenny a piece. It's great Hurian's back. We didn't have any malt candy while he was gone."

"What's his caste?"

"Peasant and a limp. He's in his fifties now."

A limp in his fifties... No wonder he could go to the capital. Peasants couldn't normally leave their hometowns. He couldn't do normal work, however, with his injury, and he was also too old to be useful in the kinds of places peasants usually worked, so he was, like others of his kind, afforded more freedom than would otherwise be given peasants.

Peasants living in the southwestern prefectures could travel relatively freely within them, a rarity Claude didn't understand, but they couldn't leave the three prefectures. He'd asked his father why that was once, and he said each region had a draft quota in times of war. The nobles knew peasants would try to move around to go to areas which had already met their quotas, so they restricted their movement to keep that from happening.

Besides the fact that Hurian wouldn't be worth much in the typical jobs peasants did, he would not be drafted if a war broke out since he would be completely useless thanks to his age and injuries, so no one cared if he travelled some.

"Hurian wasn't born with his limp. He had an accident thirty years ago. It happened during the first war with Nasri. He was drafted and, while on the way to his training camp on a donkey, the thing was frightened by something and reared. He kicked in the girdle to steady himself, but just as his leg flung out away from the donkey to keep his balance, a carriage raced by and snapped his leg off. The doctors were able to save his leg, but he can barely use it."

"He avoided the first draft, but he still go pulled into the next war. He wasn't put on the battlefield, luckily for him. Instead he was made a coach driver. He made a lot of connections on his trips from the capital to Berkeley, and used them to kickstart his peddling business after the war.

"He went back to the capital again four years ago saying he wanted to settle down there, but that didn't work out. He couldn't make enough money to cover the more expensive things there, so he came back. His leg, though pretty much useless, didn't bother him for most of his years, but he's getting old now and it doesn't like to travel. He can't just keep going around with that leg, so he decided to come back here and set up shop. He's doing pretty good here. He can get stuff through those contacts of his from the capital you won't find in Whitestag, some of the stuff you'll have trouble getting even in the prefectural capital."

"I'll go take a look sometime," Claude murmured, "Want anything else to eat?" he asked, turning to the other two.

"No... need... burp..." Welikro shook, "I'm bloated... I'll have some later if I'm hungry."

Eriksson picked up Welikro's fishing rod as he spoke.

"I also can't eat anymore. Let's fish."

Borkal was out on the deck already, clasping the empty bottle like it was a baby or some kind of teddy bear. If only he didn't snore that much. Claude just shook his head and cleaned up.

The three still awake each grabbed a rod and got to work. They were in quite a good spot. The fish were all around them and quite plentiful as well. They had 50 fish just two hours later.

The fish weren't completely stupid however, and the waters started to calm. Eriksson got more listless as the water got calmer, however, and eventually called a halt to the fishing, demanding something hot for his stomach.

Claude wasn't going to make good food again, he'd done enough of that for a day, so he just cooked up a few flour cakes and soup.

Welikro didn't join them. He instead fidgeted with the rods for a while and started packing up.

"Let's check the purse seine. It's been out long enough to get something, I think."

Eriksson nodded thoughtfully.

"Alright. I'm done with the rods for today, anyway. I'm going to hit the hay once we have the net in."

Claude cleaned up again. And the three pulled in the seine. It didn't have much, just ten or so medium fish. It was a waste, really, all that work for just ten fish. Eriksson very nearly kicked the lazy bastard Borkal when he saw him snoring as he rubbed his sore arms.

Chapter 71 - Hunting Water Birds

The sky was red that morning when Claude opened his eyes after completing his final cycle.

Thank goodness the three were still asleep. Welikro was even munching in his sleep and Claude wondered what food he thought he was eating. Borkal, besides his snoring, was dead quiet; he hadn't even moved at all since falling asleep.

Eriksson had turned into a baby, cuddled up under more than his fair share of the blankets. Welikro had taken up the first shift so Claude could rest, and Claude wasn't going to complain. It was a great chance to meditate, anyway.

He'd opened his eyes after completing his first cycle to find Welikro still fishing. They had a pretty decent haul. They probably had about seven or eight riyas worth of fish, depending on what their quality turned out to be.

He washed his face and told Welikro to get his sleep. The boy was asleep even before his head hit the deck.

Claude wasn't as good a fisherman, in fact, he was only barely better than a novice. The bite was pretty good still, though, and he got four before he had to call it quits. He was lucky, and one of his catches was a money fish, one of the most expensive species in the lake, though it wasn't a very big one.

It was about half-past-four when he put away the rods and other equipment. The night was void black, the moon was on the bulging side, but thick clouds hid it from view. Claude couldn't even see the waves lapping against the boat.

The lake should be safe, and all his friends were asleep, so he'd done some more meditating.

He now got up and stretched lazily and washed up. He got out his cooking utensils and got to work on breakfast as well. His friends were very hard sleepers, but none of them could stay asleep when they smelt food.

He carefully took the lid of a can of spring water he'd insisted on bringing. His friends had told him to just use lakewater, they were going to the freshwater part of it, after all, but he'd been stubborn. He was not going to use the same water other people shat in when they went fishing, even if it was purely psychological.

He now made a half-pot of tea and added a bit of milk and honey. A day wasn't complete unless it was started with a pot of tea.

"What's that smell?" he heard Eriksson ask, emerging from his cocoon.

Claude smiled and handed the boy a cup. The two sipped their tea slowly and watched the world slowly become visible.

Spring days usually started with a red carpet drawn over the black world of the night. The warm night breeze that came out onto the lake from the land reversed and now brought the cool lake air to shore. It was the wakeup call for which most of the wetland birds had been waiting, and their calls started ringing out along the shore.

"It's pretty good today," Eriksson murmured.

"What are we having for breakfast?" he asked just as Claude opened his mouth to give a reply.

"Umm..."

How did that boy relate everything to food?

"Well... we have some stuff in the cabin," he sighed, "We didn't bring a pan, so I don't know if I can make bacon scramble."

Eriksson was speechless. How could he have forgotten the pan! He'd been put in charge of the utensils department but all he'd thought of was wings.

"I suppose I'll make more soup once those to are awake--" he pointed at the two corpses on the deck.

Borkal woke up a few minutes later, happy to not have a hangover, and poured himself some tea.

Eriksson stared at him furiously.

"What's up with him?" Borkal asked.

"Weren't you the one that wanted us to fish last night? You were asleep for all of it! Not to mention you barely helped even when you were still awake."

"Sorry..." Borkal said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "I didn't know I would get drunk. The wine was just too good..."

"Whatever, you can't hold your drink," Welikro's voice said as he returned to the world of the living.

"We still have half a bottle of wine in the cabin, and Eyke and my bottles are untouched. Just take them with you and drink them at home. You can't hold your drink, though, so it might take you a while to finish them off," Welikro mocked.

Borkal sat quietly, red-faced.

"Okay, you've all been dead drunk before as well. Don't rag on the poor drape like that."

The food was ready half an hour later and the four had breakfast. They pulled in the nets, a catch of 20 fish in all, dropped the purse seine again, and headed to the shore near the wetland.

"Who wants to go first?" Claude asked, taking out the two muskets.

"Let Boa start. I'll fish for a while," Welikro answered.

Eriksson brought the boat close to the reeds at half sail and the four waited silently for a poor fowl to make a mistake.

"Over there," Welikro whispered eventually and pointed at a flock of egrets emerging from the reeds.

This was great, Claude thought. Had this been earth, shooting an egret would have seen him in prison, but here they were just another common bird anyone could kill. He rested the barrel on the railing and leaned into the stock, then watched Borkal do the same.

"I'll shoot the one on the left. You hit the one to the right," he whispered, and Borka nodded slowly.

The egret was a perfect hundred metres away, and just a dot half-hidden by Claude's front pip. Claude waited, and just as he was about to pull his trigger, he heard Borkal's shot go off, and instinctively shoved his finger against his trigger. Four puffs of smoke, two big, and two small, drifted off the boat and flocks of birds scattered every which way.

"It didn't hit!" Welikro cried unhappily.

Neither hit anything.

"Why did you fire before aiming properly?!" Claude shouted at Borkal.

He knew the boy hadn't aimed because he'd shot way too fast. He didn't get a chance to aim properly either, as a result.

"I... I already tried to aim..." Borkal said quietly, unconvincingly.

"Whatever, you wait for me to shoot first next time!" Claude said, wagging his finger at the other boy like a teacher scolding a pupil.

"Can we get a bit closer, Eyke?"

The shots rang out periodically for the next couple of hours. Claude fired seven times in all and got two hits, a duck and an egret. Borkal shot ten times, but he was still empty handed. He slammed his musket into the deck in frustration and yanked Welikro's fishing rod out of his hands. He couldn't believe he got nothing while that bastard got ten fish by just sitting there!

The boat humped through the reeds and Eriksson retrieved their catch.

Welikro took the sights off Borkal's musket and reloaded. With the two of them doing the shooting, the birds started dropping rapidly.
They had seven more when they decided to call it quits. Despite that, they buried more rounds in the mud than in birds. Eriksson took a few shots as well, but, like Borkal, he didn't hit anything.

Borkal took the chance to mock Eriksson, but the latter was not known for keeping his mouth, and it turned into a big argument which scared all the birds away again.

"Shut up! Have a shooting contest if you want, but stop this stupid bickering!" Welikro shouted at the two.

It took them a while to find something to shoot at, but they finally came across a piece of driftwood.

"Fine," Eriksson sighed, unhappy Borkal was the one to find their target.

Welikro put the sights back on and recalibrated it. Borkal took his musket back and Claude handed his to Eriksson. The two shot five rounds each, but none of them hit even once, so they were left with arguing over who got the closest.

Borkal stared at the wood while Eriksson let go of a couple of insults, then suddenly asked, "Why is it coming closer? The water is going the other way."

Welikro glanced at the wood and turned pale.

"Up the sails! We need to get out of here! That's not driftwood, it's a niros crocodile!"

Chapter 72 - Crocodile Struggle

A niros crocodile! Welikro's cry slammed into Eriksson and Borkal's heads like a bolt of lightning. Eriksson's legs softened, and he almost slipped off the boat.

"Im... impossible... We're still kilometres away from Kemda Swamp... How... how can a crocodile be here?!"

Borkal stared at the approaching 'plank' and stuttered.

"That... that's a c-c-crocodile... I-It's pushing across the water w-w-w-with its tail..."

A niros crocodile? Claude still hadn't snapped out of his stupor, but he soon searched through his memories for an impression of Kemda Swamp. Neither the transmigrator nor the old Claude had gone to the swamp before. He had heard a couple of rivers fed into the lake through the swamp.

Rumour had it Kemda went on for hundreds of kilometres, all the way to even the westernmost prefecture, Tordesass. It was also connected to the largest river in the three prefectures, Normandis. The geography books described the swamp as 'rich in flora and fauna'. Unfortunately, that also mean it had many poisonous animals. At least one adventurer or forager lost their life in the swamp every year and few people dared to go inside.

That was right, he had heard something about these 'niros crocodiles'. They were the kings of the swamp. They had no natural predators and ruled the food chain.

Claude glanced at the bark-like crocodile swimming their way. He could see the waves caused by its swaying tail. It clearly didn't appreciate being target practice while pretending to be a piece of wood.

Claude grabbed his musket from Eriksson.

"Deploy the sails, quick!" he shouted as he loaded.

Welikro was already raising the sails. He grabbed the punt pole and tried to push the boat away from the oncoming croc. They were half-stuck in short reeds, however, and it was hard to get them moving.

Claude finished loading and took aim. His shot echoed over the flat swamp a moment later. The crocodile shook slightly, paused, then came at them again.

"Shoot its head! Go for the eyes!" Welikro shouted with a half-broken voice.

The shot startled Borkal back to reality, and he fidgeted with his own musket.

The crocodile just kept coming, and was doing so faster with every passing moment. The boys didn't know exactly how big it was, but its general volume became apparent as it got closer. It was huge, but not the seven metres the town's gossip ring said. It was still a full five metres; that was longer than the boat!

Eriksson fumbled with the boat's wheel, but could not get the boat to do anything. The wind had died down, and the rudder did nothing if the boat wasn't moving. Their only hope, though whether it was hope or delusion no one wanted to say, was that Welikro somehow pushed them into open water.

Eriksson ran to the sails. If nothing else he could at least try to bleed every scrap of energy from what little movement there was in the air. Even if he did, however, it would at best be half worth it since the wind was blowing into the swamp, not out to the lake.

Claude calmed himself forcefully. He took several slow, deep breaths, then aimed at the charging driftwood. He couldn't see its eyes, they looked just like the rest of it, so he was forced to take a guess and fire.

Smoke puffed out over the side of the deck again and the crocodile shuddered this time. It came to a halt and a small trail of blood slowly diffused in its wake. Its head dipped beneath the water a moment later.

"A hit!" Welikro cried.

His words had barely left his mouth, however, when the log reappeared and charged at them again.

A third puff, this time from Borkal's musket, but this time the round merely splashed next to the head.

"How did you aim?! You didn't even hit at this distance!" Welikro cried, losing his last bit of composure.

They had just a couple dozen metres left between them and the crocodile. They all shuddered and felt cold sweat run down their backs as the crocodile's grimly determined aura flashed over them.

Borkal's hand went limp and his musket clattered to the deck.

"It's over... We're not going to make it..."

"Pick it up! Load! Are you really just going to sit and wait for it to eat you?!"

Claude didn't even hear the squabbles going on behind him. He stared at the charging death. His shot had hit, but it had apparently only angered the crocodile. His mind lit up, and he remembered they still had pellet powder. Claude reached into his pockets for a cartridge. He tore the top off with his teeth and poured the pellet powder down the barrel. The round followed a moment later, and he rammed it home with his shaking rod.

He lifted the musket to his shoulder the same moment the crocodile leapt out of the water at them.

"AAHHHH!" Borkal cried with a broken voice.

His legs gave in and he collapsed to his knees, a pungent wet stain forming between his legs.

Welikro was right in the crocodile's way, but he had more experience dealing with charging animals, and got out of the way quickly.

Eriksson's eyes nearly popped out of his face as he watched the massive death machine crash into his beautiful boat.

It shook, dropped half a metre into the water, then popped back up. It was immediately listing, however.

The starboard side railing was gone, only a few stumps stuck out of the deck's edge. The crocodile's head was buried through the hull into the cabin. If they'd not used the wavepiercer's planks instead of the old fishing boat's, the frame might have shattered entirely.

At least it bought them a few moments while the crocodile struggled to get its head back out. It didn't resign itself to being stuck in the boat, however, and its furious struggles shoved the ship from side to side.

Claude lost his balance and was sent rolling across the deck. He rammed into the port rail and grabbed hold, his right hand white around his musket.

Eriksson hugged his wheel like a boy afraid his mother was going to leave him behind, blood streaming down his face form a massive gash on his forehead.

Borkal just sat limply where he'd come to a halt, whimpering, the stain between his legs growing ever larger. It didn't help that he was staring down the cabin trapdoor in the deck at the crocodile's white teeth as it thrashed back and forth.

Eriksson finally couldn't hold on to the wheel any longer and collapsed backward onto the rear railing.

Welikro hung onto the mast for all he was worth. The crocodile's struggles pushed it deeper into the boat, and its mouth eventually came out of the trapdoor. Borkal squealed and literally rolled away from the monster. Welikro tried ramming his pole at the thing's eyes, but a quick bite snapped it in half. The crocodile's attention was fully on Welikro now, however, and it struggled towards him.

A sudden jolt to the boat shoved Claude against the railing and he collapsed to the deck. He kept hold of his musket, however, and shoved the barrel towards the crocodile's head, just beneath its bleeding eye, and pulled the trigger as hard as he could. Despite everything he'd been taught, he closed his eyes. If this shot missed, his friend would be torn to pieces, and he didn't want to see whether that ended up happening.

Smoke puffed and the crocodile's eye vanished. Its other eye exploded and flesh, brain, and bone stained the deck all the way to the vanished starboard railing.

The crocodile was still for half a moment, then convulsed. Its convulsion flung it backward, and it flopped over the starboard side back into the water. Its splash flung water back over the boat and drenched everything in sight.

The boat bobbed furiously for several seconds, then settled to something like the horizontal.

"Aaaaaah!" Borkal shook and rolled back to starboard.

There was no railing there to stop him, however, and he flew into the water right after the crocodile.

Welikro slowly got back up, his legs shook so much his knees nearly clattered together. He lost his footing and he, too, tumbled into the lake. He was quick to clamber back onto the boat however, and his eyes stared at the water like a frightened cat. His eyes noticed Borkal, and he stuck the stump of the pole he still had out to him.

Claude didn't get off with just getting wet, however. The bobbing boat flung him across the deck into the bit of starboard railing still intact and he felt a leg muscle tear as he hit it.

Eriksson wasn't must better off. His head was swollen on one side, and his eyes were confused and glassy through the pouring blood, but he was still awake.

Borkal gasped a breath and immediately started screaming again.

"I'm going to die... I'm going to be eaten!"

Welikro slammed him across his head with the pole.

"Shut up! You're fine! Now get back on the boat!" he roared.

Borkal's eyes were saucers, and his pupils pinpricks, but he shut up and got on the boat.

"Where's-where's it?"

"Dead." Welikro said, pointing at the carcass as it popped back up to the surface.

Chapter 73 - Limping Home

"Is it really dead?" Claude asked, supporting himself against the railing.

He reloaded the musket fitfully, doing his best to bite away the pain.

"It's dead. I wouldn't believe if it weren't," Borkal answered, some colour slowly returning to his face, and his voice finally dropping below a shrill soprano.

Welikro poked the crocodile with his broken pole and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's dead. Damn Claude, that was a close call. If you'd been just a little off, we'd all be dead right now," he half whispered.

Claude picked his musket back up and aimed it at the crocodile, only to realise the match had been extinguished.

"Wero, get my bag. I need a dry match."

"Why do you need a match now? It's dead," Borkal asked, his voice a little closer to normal again, as he pointed at the carcass.

Welikro shoved Borkal aside as he charged through with Claude's bag.

"Claude's being careful. Who knows if this will attract more crocodiles? And where's your musket? You're never ready to help at moments like this!"

Borkal's face burned. He had indeed been of no help in solving the problem he and Eriksson had created.

"Eh? Where's my musket? Why's it gone?" he shouted frantically.

The boat was only so big, surely he had to have found it by now!

Claude pointed at the lake.

"It probably went overboard with you."

Welikro handed Claude his bag and helped fix the dry match on the cock.

"How's your leg?" Welikro asked, glancing at the unnaturally large calf. He cut away the pants carefully, but Claude still nearly cried out in pain.

"I must have torn a muscle," Claude said, "I'll be fine; go check on Eyke. He looks far worse off than me."

Eriksson was back on board as well. He clutched the port railing absentmindedly as blood quickly coloured his face again.

Borkal stripped unceremoniously and prepared to go back into the lake to look for his musket.

"What are you doing, you dunce?!" Welikro shouted, "Your musket can wait, it's not going anywhere, help me with Eye!"

Eyke's forehead was gashed open, and the bone showed. His left arm was badly hurt as well, while the bone didn't show, the muscles were clearly torn and could be seen through the tear in his upper arm. His glassy eyes and disorientation told the boys he'd also suffered a bad concussion.

He half collapsed onto the deck with Borkal's help and the latter wiped the blood out of his eyes. Welikro poured some disinfectant and clotting agent on his wounds, which stopped the worst of the bleeding.

"We'll have to sew it up," Welikro said as he looked at Eriksson's forehead, "I'll leave a bad scar, but it'll be even worse if we leave it open until we get back to town."

"Can you... do it?" Eriksson mumbled absentmindedly.

Welikro glanced at Eriksson, worried for his troubled speech, and nodded. They only had a simple sewing kit: a simple needle and some gut thread. The boy did his best, but Welikro was neither a trained healer, nor a seamster. Half of it might have been his concussion, but while Eriksson winced with every stitch, he didn't make a sound or pull away.

Borkal couldn't watch, so he dove into the water to search for his musket. He got back at about the same time Welikro finished his work.

No one was in any mood, or condition, to continue their hunt, so they set a limping sail for town. Claude wanted to drag the crocodile back, but they were in no state to be dragging that thing home.

"It's not going anywhere, and it's too far into the reeds for the current to take it out. We'll come back for it later," Welikro said as they sailed away slowly, "It's not like the ship is in any state to be dragging that, anyway," he added, pointing at the missing railing, and, by extension, at the hole in the side of the boat.

"But if we don't get it back now, it might be eaten by the time we come back. And who says we'll even find it again even if it doesn't go anywhere? And we can't get the money for the repairs without it," Borkal insisted.

"We still have the nets. Should get more fish from them," Eriksson answered laboriously. Even just saying a few words appeared to be an exhausting effort for him.

"Once we have that as well, how are we going to get that thing back?" Welikro asked, pointing at the fading carcass.

"Borkal isn't wrong," Claude said after a moment, "I doubt even with an excellent catch from the nets we'll have enough for repairs. We can't just strip the planks from another ship like we did last time, we'll have to have planks made. But at the same time you're right, we won't have space for the crocodile if we take in the nets. So why not just drag it behind the boat? We go get the nets, then wrap it up in them and drag it back to town."

Welikro opened his mouth to object, then sighed and flung his hands into the air.

"Fine, whatever!" he half cried, "Anyway," he said, staring at Claude's still swelling leg, "How's the leg?"

Claude shook his head... and winced.

"I'm fine. I won't be of much use getting the nets in, though."

Neither Claude nor Eriksson could do much with their injuries, so Welikro and Borkal had to bring the nets in and tie up the crocodile on their own. Borkal had been the one to insist on bringing the crocodile back, but he started whimpering and shaking when it came to actually tying it up. It took the best insults Welikro had to get him to help.

The two injured did the best they could to help from the boat, but it was worth little. Despite that, they had it tied up thoroughly, eventually.

They set sail again and limped back out of the swamp and along the coast. All four's stomachs were growling by the time they put the swamp behind them, and Claude limped around scavenging what he could. He only found a single half-empty basket of blueberries and apples, and the keg of ale.

In spite of their growling stomachs, they each only managed to nibble in an apple and a couple of blueberries, and drink a single cup of ale. They were all nauseous and had no appetite.

The crocodile and nets' drag pulled the boat far enough down that water spilled in through the hole with even the tiniest wave, and they couldn't dare sail any faster than a bare limp for fear that the bow wave would flood the boat and sink it entirely.

They left the swamp at noon and only saw the town on the horizon at sunset. Claude slept most of the way, but the other two kept Eriksson awake, afraid he would fall into a coma from the concussion if he closed his eyes. It was pitch black by the time they finally limped into the dock.

Chapter 74 - At the Jetty

The four boys, in far worse a state this time than last time, shook the town a second time. The pier and quay was so crowded other ships had to fight to get space to unload their cargo.

Eriksson, despite his off state from the concussion, knew what to do. He had Pegg close the pier and moved everyone out. His family's pier wasn't that big. It was quite a bit smaller than the public quay at just twenty metres long and a couple wide. Both of the sides had a couple of berths where the family's boats could moor.

The crocodile was quickly dragged out of the water and in front of the house.

Several people tried to sneak in to get a better look and maybe even touch the thing, but Peg was a good guard and they were quickly dispatched.

Eriksson had someone put the nets away while he helped Borkal free the crocodile from them. Welikro helped Claude, whose face was now permanently contorted in a pained scowl, limp off the ship, down the pier, and to the house.

"We should get you to the apothecaries as quickly as possible," Welikro said.

"I'll be fine," Claude protested, but Welikro was insistent.

Claude didn't quite trust the medical practices of this world's apothecaries. They had decent medicinal treatments, not as good as back on earth, of course, but passable, but their physical treatments were far behind. Blood-letting and lobotomies were still common practice, and induced diarrhoea was considered a great cure-all. First aid was quite decently advanced, though hygiene was a major problem, but anything beyond basic triage was uncharted territory.

No one really knew these days where all their herbal knowledge came from. It certainly wouldn't do to reveal to them that magi were the primary generators of that knowledge.

Tooth aches were quite the issue. Any problem with a tooth saw it pulled, and quite violently as well, and without proper after care. Claude's torn muscle, for example, would most likely be treated with an ointment and a regular blood letting. He could only hope his muscle healed properly, otherwise he would be limp for the rest of his life.

He smiled bitterly.

I guess I'll have to let them cut my leg to let the blood out or it won't recover..."

"So do you want to go to the apothecary right away?" Welikro asked, his head starting to throb from the incessant noise nearby.

Claude also shrugged helplessly.

"I'll rest in Eriksson's house for a while. We can go once the crowd dissipates. It's getting late, so you'd best get to selling it off before people decide to go home. Just send my cut home like you did last time."

Borkal would be in charge of sales again. They'd first pay for the repairs, and split whatever was left afterwards.

The two watched Borkal and Eriksson -- suddenly fully alert again not that he was in the spotlight -- go about their usual tall tale telling.

Welikro put Claude down in a nearby chair and dashed back outside. The other two numskulls were too busy spinning their yarns to care about actually selling anything, so someone had to be responsible.

Claude had a good view of the entire scene through the window. Pegg was doing a stellar job, and was even coldly ignoring anyone that tried to exploit their relations to him. He knew who to let in, however, and all the right people gathered around Welikro to make bids for their haul.

There were also some everyone knew wouldn't bid on the fish that Pegg also let in. They were the kinds of people with whom you didn't interfere, much less offend. Whitestag was a medium town with just over twelve thousand residents and an incredible grapevine. News spread faster than the cold in the town, and the crocodile became famous almost before it was out of the water. It had been years, nearly a decade, since one had last been caught, and no one had caught one that big in living memory. The story was made even more incredible by the fact that it had been caught by four sixteen-year-old boys.

The chief constable soon arrived and dispersed the unwanteds and the bidding could begin in peace and quiet.

Claude sat quietly in front of the window and most people didn't even notice him. The chief constable was not one of them, however.

"Claude?" the man asked as he stepped into the house.

"Good evening, Uncle Thomas," Claude greeted hurriedly.

Thomas was one of his father's colleagues and a frequent guest at the house, and one of the greatest drinkers Claude had seen in either of his lives.

"You shot it?" the man asked, glancing at Claude's musket.

The boy simply nodded.

"A fine lad you are. Your father will be so proud."

"Thank you, Uncle. It was all luck, though. I nearly pissed my pants when it dove into the boat, and Borkal actually did piss his pants."

Thomas gave Claude's shoulder a satisfied pat.

"So you're humble, too, huh? You'll get far in life like that, boy. But why are you sitting in here?"

Claude pointed at leg.

"Hurt it badly. I need to go see an apothecary, but I'll have to wait till the people disperse."

"Looks serious. You should've gone earlier," Thomas said, a slight reprimand in his voice, then turned to his subordinate, "Mark, take him to the apothecary."

His subordinate nodded and head outside to bring the carriage over.

"Thank you, Uncle Thomas."

The constable waved.

"You're welcome. Your father is my colleague and a good friend. And you're not so bad yourself. It's the least I can do."

Someone called out to Claude from outside, a woman, from the pitch. He glanced in the voice's direction and saw two beauties rushing over. He didn't recognise the older of the two.

"You know them?" Thomas asked.

Claude wanted to shake his head, but while he didn't know who the older of the two was, he did indeed know the younger. Kefnie charged over with quite a worried expression.

"My schoolmates," Claude said simply.

Thomas nodded and let the two in.

Kefnie couldn't look Claude in the eye and hid behind the older girl instead. The older one was unbridled, however, and even checked him out unreservedly.

"Good afternoon, Kef-- Kefnie..." the boy stumbled.

He glanced at her empty basket and clasped the chance for a topic.

"Here to buy fish?" he asked in a tiny voice.

"Yes..." The girl nodded, red-faced.

For all her discomfort at the situation, she still managed to remember she had to introduce the older girl behind whom she was so shamelessly hiding.

"This is my sister, Kesline. We were on our way to the docks when we heard you guys killed a crocodile, so we came over to see. They wouldn't let us in though, but we saw you through the window."

Claude nodded at her sister.

"It's fine. The boys are with the carcass, just tell them I said you could have a look--" Claude saw Mark step in through the door. "--Sorry, I have to go to the apothecary now."

Chapter 75 - Father's Decision

Claude put Kefnie and her sister out of his mind after he left the pier. He also kept his eyes from them. Half of it was that he was too shy to face them. Kefnie was a pretty girl and was budding into a beautiful young woman, if she ended up with just half the figure her sister had, he would have trouble keeping his hands off her. The other half was that he was shocked by how bold she'd been, despite how shy she was. He didn't think she had it in her to call out to him like that. Eriksson had told him her sister was a barmaid. So he wasn't surprised by how bold she was. Her sister, however, was a different story. Few people were shier than she.

The coachman helped him off and into the building, then darted off back to the pier. The herbalist was an old man with a long goatee. He gave him a thorough once-over, especially his leg, then told him he'd have to do a good bloodletting.

Claude almost wanted to choke the man, but he had little choice but to accept his judgement. He didn't know what the proper treatment for his injury was, but even he knew it wasn't a bloodletting. That said, in this world he didn't have the standing to go against the apothecary's medical decisions.

So bloodletting it would be, he sighed. The man handed him a wooden bit.

"Bite it," he said.

Bite it? Why did he have to bite it?

He found out soon enough.

This world didn't have local anaesthetics, and even a small cut into a vein was excruciating without it. The same effect could be achieved with certain poisons, but, being poisons, they had numerous side effects and had to be administered in very limited and controlled dosages otherwise they would be fatal. That the man shoved a small stick inside the cut to open it up didn't help, either.

Claude's face had never been paler in either of his lives. Cold sweat, half frozen, really, poured down his face and back in rivers. He swore he felt a tooth crack at one point as well. He begged the man to put him out of his misery, and he took out a wooden mallet. He nearly jumped off his seat when he saw the thing coming to the back of his neck and chose the bit instead.

He wasn't proud of the next hour of that day. He spent most of his whimpering like a girl being thoroughly ravaged. He went through two bits in all and was almost as afraid of the toothache he knew he was going to have for the next week as he was of the apothecary himself. He had to admit, however, that the old man was pretty good at his job, that being what it was. He stitched up the incision with small, neat stitches and splinted his leg thoroughly. He covered much of his leg, now bruised asure, with a green-paste healing-potion mixture before bandaging him up thoroughly and applying a different paste to the bandage which quickly hardened. It covered everything from his hips to his calf, turning his whole leg into a pole.

He was going to look damn funny walking for the several weeks between now and when he could get it removed. He didn't like the thought, but it very quickly stopped being a worry when he heard he might have to face another bloodletting if the old man wasn't happy with his progress during their next checkup in three days.

He got home very late that evening. The coachman carried him like a little princess into the house. His mother nearly fainted when she saw him. If his leg wasn't the only injury, he didn't doubt his mother would really have fainted. The grapevine had an incredible ability to turn a molehill into a mountain; by the time news got to his mother, his leg had been torn off by the crocodile, which they'd found in its stomach.

He provided her with a very detailed description of the treatment, making sure to insist his pain was due to the bloodletting. His speech started to slur by the end of his description as his jaw started aching and spasming. His cheeks puffed like he'd gained weight and he found it difficult just to swallow, nevermind eat.

His father didn't say anything, but Claude noticed the overflowing ashtray on the table. His father had seen the crocodile himself on his way home. He'd been furious at his boy for being so reckless, but much of it had dissipated into pride when half the town praised his son's bravery, then turned into worry when he heard he'd been badly injured and been taken to the apothecary. He couldn't decide whether buying the boy a musket had been the right thing to do. Sure, it had saved his life, but he wouldn't have been there in the first place if he hadn't had the musket.

He couldn't say much about it after he asked himself what he would have done in that situation. He concluded, much to his chagrin, that he would have frozen in panic.

He knew of Borkal and Eriksson's penchant for exaggerating their own roles in these kinds of events, so he didn't doubt his son had been primarily responsible for the crocodile's death and their survival. He didn't know how his son had managed it, and for the sake of his self-worth, he didn't want to ask, so he accepted their version of events, though with a carriage of salt.

He realised he knew his son less and less with every passing month. He didn't know what to teach him, much less how to. Arbeit was his eldest, and he'd been deeply involved in his upbringing, but the boy had turned out into quite the disappointment on certain, important fronts, despite impressing on others. And that was when he had been trained to follow his father's footsteps. Claude was walking an entirely different path, one about which his father knew almost nothing. He'd never doubted his choice before, but this afternoon he had found himself wondering if he'd made the right decision. His son was turning out to be even better than his older brother, and not just in the areas where his brother wasn't all that good.

His mind was too occupied with his thoughts to rebuke his son. A small part of him even thought he didn't have the right to rebuke the boy. Besides, reckless or not, it was no small feat to take down a niros crocodile, much less do it with just a broken bone and a torn muscle. He didn't listen to that small part of his mind, however, and steeled himself enough to give his son a stern lecture and forbidding him from going to the swamp again.

Claude nodded obediently, which had become quite rare in the months after his illness. His mother had impeccable timing as always, and brought over his soup and bread just as his father finished his lecture. He was ravenous, but was forced to sip it slowly through clenched jaws.

He finished nearly half an hour later, and his mother asked him about all the fish Welikro had sent over as she cleared the table. They'd all been whitescales, fish only fed to livestock. Welikro had wanted to throw them back in the lake when they'd been caught, but Claude had insisted on keeping them.

"They sent them over already? Did they send anything else?" he asked.

"Some beef, mutton, three longtails and a duck," his mother said when she got back from the kitchen.

"I told them to send over the whitescales," he said, "They're great fried. You can fry them whole. The bones are small enough to not prick you, and the scales don't have to be removed, either. You just have to cut out their guts."

His mother didn't say anything else. She had long given up on trying to find out where her son got his outlandish cooking ideas. They had never disappointed, however, so she was content with just enjoying the fruits of his obscure mind. Instead she put Angelina to work cleaning up the fish while she prepared a pot of oil. The smell of deep-fried fish soon filled the house. Oil was actually a pretty expensive commodity, but his parents had learnt to give Claude the freedom to use what he wanted as he wanted in the kitchen, so there was always enough oil to go around. He had wanted to make youtiao, a kind of Chinese fried dough snack, but they came out completely misshapen. Not that that stopped the little rascals from polishing them all off, anyway.

His father just continued puffing on his pipe while he carefully sourced out the details of the whole affair from him. Claude didn't have the storyteller's talents of his two friends, and much of what had happened was all a blur to him, so his version of events was far plainer than Borkal and Eriksson's.

His father's expression softened slightly when he heard they had tried to just get away, and hadn't gone for a confrontation from the get go. Unfortunately the reeds held them in place and kept them from getting away so they were forced to face the crocodile.

His father recalled the half-sunken fishing boat he'd seen at the pier, and shuddered. He put down his pipe and expanded his prohibition on his son's actions to any excursions onto the lake. He could hunt small game just outside of town, but that was it.

Claude could usually talk a hole into his father's head, but this time his father was resolute. He eventually gave up and nodded, defeated.

His mother and sister brought over the fried fish, and two little rascals gulped them down by the handful.

"Anything Brother makes is delicious," Bloweyk gasped between gulps.

The pup tug at his shirt to get a taste as well, but as much as Bloweyk loved it, sharing food with it was out of the question.

"I was the one who made it," his mother scolded, knocking him on the head in a faux fury, "Your brother just suggested the recipe."

Angelina was more giving than her little brother, and handed a crispy fish head to the pup, who quickly abandoned his little master for his young mistress.

Morssen nibbled on one as well.

"The oil wasn't hot enough, they're soaked. But the taste is good."

Claude turned in for the night soon after.

"Need help?" his father asked as the boy limped to the stairs awkwardly.

"No, I'm okay."

He stopped by the bathroom for a quick wash and limped the rest of the way to his room. He would have collapsed onto his bed if that wouldn't have sent another wave of pain up his leg. Instead, he lay down gingerly, and sighed deeply once he was settled in.

He tried to meditate, but the pain wouldn't let him concentrate, so he went to sleep instead.

He woke up in a cold sweat from the dull, aching pain the next morning, and washed up before he limped downstairs. He sipped another bowl of soup -- his mouth felt even worse than the day before, and he doubted it would get better for the next couple of days -- and prepared to head to school. His father stopped him when he headed for the door, however, and said he'd send him to school. The two stopped by a shop in town on the way to school and his father got him a crutch.

Claude wasn't too happy. He'd secretly been planning to use his injury as an excuse to stay at home for a few days, but his father was several steps ahead of him. He couldn't be too angry at his dad, however; the man was being very thoughtful.

"I won't let you skip school, young man. You won't miss one day of school over this, you hear?"

"...Yes, father..." the boy murmured.

His father's face softened somewhat.

"You can ask leave for your physical classes. It's not like you can do anything in them like that, anyway."

Chapter 76 - Two Pieces of Bad News

His father took him right up to the school gate. Claude limped the rest of the way to class and sat down gingerly, swinging his leg under his desk awkwardly. He was swamped by his classmates the moment his arse hit the chair. Everyone had seen the crocodile the previous evening, and his cast leg and crutch matched their image of a wounded, jaded warrior.

He's face was tomato-red the entire time. He would have kowtowed to the teacher when he chased everyone back to their seats if not for his leg. He wasn't particularly happy that everyone was praising him rather than helping him out. He'd never used a crutch before, and it wasn't helped by the fact that it was just a little too big for him.

He was just dozing off when his three friends burst into the classroom, out of breath.

"We were waiting for you at your home! Why didn't you ask him to give us a ride as well? We had to run all the way here!" Welikro complained immediately, shooting an apologetic glance at the teacher.

"You should have waited for me at school!" Claude exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Did you sell the crocodile?" Claude asked while the teacher busied himself preparing his material.

"Yes..." Borkal said unhappily.

"What's wrong?"

The crocodile should have gone for a good price, so why was he so sour?

"Sir Fux bought it for four crowns," Eriksson said.

That was a damn large amount of money! Claude shouted in his head.

Borkal snorted a sigh and his shoulders drooped.

"We should have been able to get an even better price, no one was going to cross Sir Fux. If we'd auctioned it off in Baromiss we could have gotten ten crowns or more! The skin alone can go for as much as eight crowns!"

He'd put the crocodile up for auction with a starting price of just ten thales. He'd been confident the price would be bid up to a good price, but then Sir Fux had turned up and bid just four crowns and no one had been willing to bid against him.

Four crowns sounded incredible, but when he heard what the thing was really worth, he nearly cried blood.

Borkal had been robbed in all but name. He hated the man called Fux for exploiting his power against the powerless and bullying everyone into giving him what he wanted. Damnit, that wasn't fair! He had spent the whole night cursing the entire Fux lineage to Nubissia and back several times over.

"Whatever. Four crowns is still a lot of money," Claude consoled.

He hoped the experience would teach Borkal a valuable lesson, maybe even give him pause next time he decided to beat up another kid, though he was not going to hold his breath.

Eriksson was adamant that the whole town's elite was just as much to blame. They all knew how much more the crocodile was worth, but no one had stood up for the boys. They instead took the chance to butter the man up with praise. The four boys' only consolation was that the whole town knew who had killed the crocodile and how before Sir Fux got his hands on it, so he wouldn't be able to claim that glory for himself as well.

The townsfolk had reasoned that his purchase was a great move for the boys as well, since everyone that came to visit would hear their story when they saw the stuffed reptile, and Sir Fux frequently got high-profile visitors.

"Ptooey! I don't want his house to be where people hear our story!" Welikro spat angrily.

Claude agreed quietly. He knew too well the trappings of 'exposure'. He'd seen too many authors or artists extorted of their work for peanuts because 'it would be great exposure'. Exposure meant nothing if it didn't bring in money.

None of them could do anything about it, not even all four their fathers combined could. Hell, Claude and Borkal's fathers had both been there, and they'd been just as buttery as all the other bastards!

"Okay, enough. We can't do anything about it, so brooding over it won't do us any good. How did everything else sell?" Claude asked when he saw the teacher shifting uneasily.

"Not bad. Pjard bought three of the egrets, a turkey, and half of the fish. He paid a thale and three riyas," Eriksson said.

"What about the other five ducks?"

"I gave it to Kefnie," Eriksson said proudly, "We'll look after you, Claude, don't you worry."

Claude's sore jaw nearly fell off entirely.

"Why?"

"You're the one that invited them. Don't worry, I know you were trying to show off. I didn't let you down. Kefnie's your crush, so of course we'd help you out. I also made sure to suggest to her sister you had the hots for Kefnie. She said she doesn't have a problem with you wooing her little sister."

"I... I..." Claude wanted to cry.

He'd only helped the girl out because his former self had liked her. He had no romantic interest in her at all. But now his friends had all but set him up with her.

"You saw her sister yesterday, yes? Hehe... I told you she's a hottie!" Eriksson whispered lasciviously.

"F*ck off!" Claude cried, shoving the boy away, "The teacher's about about to start class!"

Chapter 77 - The Second Diary

It sometimes felt like time was crawling at a snail's pace. Other times, however, it was hard to keep up. People occasionally, suddenly found themselves wondering, 'huh? How did so many days pass? I still haven't managed to do this or that...'

Time was definitely moving too fast for Claude at this time. The two months during which he recovered from his leg injury made each day felt like a year. Anyone whose left leg was encased in a cast would feel the same. Inconvenience in daily life was a given. Claude couldn't bear the slight stench his body started to develop from not being able to take baths. It didn't help that summer had come, which caused him to sweat often. All he could do was use a large, wet linen cloth to wipe himself down every single day.

He went to the apothecary four more times after his first visit. Initially, he went three every three days, before it became once a week. During every visit, he wouldn't be able to avoid having his blood let out by the old herbalist. Only after the last visit did his pain finally end. The old man said that there was no longer any remnant blood and he would be able to move as usual after another month of rest. However, he would still have to take care of his newly recovered leg and try his best not to put any pressure on it and remain seated whenever possible.

So, Claude obediently stayed within his attic with his books throughout his recovery period. Even during the 10th day of the 9th month, which was the harvest festival of the great earth goddess, he stayed in his attic and watched the parade in the streets without joining the festivities himself.

Claude wasn't the only one who cooped up in his house to recover. There was a change in the three of his friends. Welikro changed the least, in that he had become even quieter than before. However, he turned into a fishing maniac and would always bring a fishing pole and wooden bucket to the side of the lake alone instead of asking the others to go along with him.

Eriksson was busy repairing his fishing boat and he didn't ask his friends to help out. He did all the work alone, from buying boards of similar thickness to those on his boat, drying them on the jetty, removing the broken parts of the boat and replacing them under Pegg's guidance. After a month or so of repairs, the ship could finally sail again. But now, Eriksson no longer called his friends along with him to travel around and instead frequently took hour-long voyages around Lake Balinga.

The one who changed the most was undoubtedly Borkal. He was probably weighed down by the humiliation and shock of the auction of the crocodile carcass. He split the four crowns he got from Sir Fux with the rest of them and paid for the repairs of Eriksson's boat alone, all three thales. He also paid for Claude's two thales in medical fees.

Borkal had spent all his share of the sale. Even though the others said that they would bear the burden of the sale equally, he insistently rejected their offer. Borkal said that only this way would he feel better about himself. It was his mistake that caused them to lose out on even more profit and only by spending his share of one crown would he be able to forgive himself for that. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to face the rest of his friends.

The others had initially wanted give the one thale plus from the sale they got from the fish and the birds to Borkal to make up for it, but he insisted it be added to their own little public fund. Though Borkal believed his performance with the auction was a horrible one, he still wanted to keep things fair as the treasurer among them. Since they had already agreed beforehand for the sub sale to be added to their shared fund, that was what he would do.

Claude wondered why his friends had lost the urge to hang out since he started staying home. Apart from school time, the three didn't get together. Before this, the three were always clamoring to find something fun to do on Sunday. Now, however, they did things on their own. Even during the three-day break over the harvest festival, no one went anywhere, they just followed the parade around town.

Welikro spoke to Claude privately to answer his questions. He believed Eriksson was terrified by the fight with the crocodile. It had shown him how vulnerable he really was, and he was too afraid to do anything now.

The two were quick to talk big in front of others, but secretly both he and Borkal were now scared shitless of getting into a similar situation. The snake episode didn't affect them because they didn't actually experience it, but they'd been in the middle of the whole crocodile business. They'd all come to the conclusion that only Claude could handle those kinds of situations, and with him out of commision, no one wanted to risk finding themselves facing something similar or even half as bad as the crocodile.

Claude laughed at the time, but he was secretly thankful that the two had been forced into a more reasonable view of the themselves and the world. They were right in as far as he was the only one that had proven he could handle those kinds of encounters, and he was completely out of the picture for the time being. He went to school, then went home and either slept or read the diaries. He'd gone through the two so many times now he could recite them word for word.

They'd answered many of his questions, though not all. One of his big questions had been why Landes had become a 'first-rank rune magus' instead of a 'one-ring' one. He'd certainly made the transition at some point as his cookbook diary said he was a four-ring rune magus.

The second diary answered that question for him. It turned out that 'ranks' were something akin to a half-step into the corresponding ring count. In the case of first-rank rune magi, they could control the mana within their bodies, but had yet to learn or master any spells. To become a one-ring rune magus, the first-ranker had to be able to lay down formations within his void space and engrave his hexagram, which allowed him to cast spells.

The hexagram had seven spaces: the six triangles and the central hexagon. Each of the space could be engraved with a rune formation, and all seven were needed to cast spells. Once all seven had been engraved, the magus had to learn several spells. Once they could pass a test that required they successfully cast the spells they'd learned, they officially became a one-ring rune magus.

The seven formations weren't equal in power or status. The main formation in the hexagon was the central pillar on which the other six were carved and was called the master. The other six were known as the slaves. Together the seven formations formed the core of the magus' power. Each spell had a corresponding formation that had to be carved in his rune space. A magus could learn more than the seven spells his seven formations in his hexagram allowed. He could carve formations anywhere in his void space, but those seven were the core of his repertoire and often remained his most familiar and frequently used. This was mainly because only the runes carved into his hexagram were permanent. All other runes quickly faded, which meant they had to be carved every time the corresponding spell was to be cast. It wasn't very difficult to become proficient in this, but it meant that those spells were always slower to cast, overall weaker in their output, and cost a lot more mana.

Landes had spent much of his early years researching the hexagram and the formations carved into them. He found that magic consumption wasn't just a matter of the scope of the spell's effect, but was also strongly influenced by where its corresponding rune was carved. If the average one-ring rune magus had a hundred units of magic power, then a standard spell for one-ring magi cast from a formation carved in the central hexagon cost about one or two units. That same spell cast from a formation carved into one of the six triangles cost three to six units. If that same spell was cast from a temporary formation carved into the bare void space, however, it's cost went up significantly, averaging around thirteen units, though they varied between seven and twenty units depending on the spell in question.

There was an additional difference between permanent-formation based spells and temporary-formation based spells. Spells cast from formations within the hexagram need only be called with a one or two syllable incantation, and masters could even do so without saying anything at all, calling it forward with just a thought. Those same spells cast from formations outside the hexagram, however, required longer incantations and a series of hand gestures, both of which became longer and more complex as the spells got larger or stronger.

Since the latter of these spells required gestures and longer incantations, they were significantly more prone to failure as well. If the caster missed or malformed a single gesture, or missed or mispronounced a single syllable, at any point during the casting, the entire spell would fail.

To matters even more complicated, while temporary formations, by their nature, could be switched out as often as you wanted, since they faded rather rapidly, the permanent formations were just that, permanent. Once carved, they were set for life. There was no changing them later on. So choosing those initial seven spells was one of the biggest choices a magus could make. And those seven had to be the most basic spells -- tier-zero spells. Spell formations required by higher-tier spells didn't fit in the hexagram of a first-ranker.

The task was somewhat simpler for the magi of Landes' generation than for those that a thousand or more years earlier. The selection of valid spells they could choose from rapidly declined as the centuries past. Certain of even the simplest spells required materials to cast, and as magic materials became rare, or were used up entirely, those spells became completely useless and were abandoned. By Landes' time, the only spells left in the catalogue were those that could be cast using only the mana stored in the body.

That concept wasn't all that foreign to Claude. In the beginning of the automobile industry, 'good' cars were faster or stronger, they didn't care about fuel consumption. But as fuel started drying up, a 'good' care became one that could be fast or strong while using much less fuel. Only the most luxurious, rich-boy play-things could afford to continue being inefficient.

The same principle had been applied to magic as well. As resources became rarer, the emphasis switched from powerful, costly spells, to a balance of power and efficiency, to eventually versatile spells that could be cast without external material at all. This process eliminated entire disciplines in magic, eventually leaving only combat and runes.

Rune magi used runes to focus the movement of ambient magic to supplement the magus' own mana, to direct the magus' mana to achieve more complex results that would otherwise require materials, or to make the most efficient use of the materials that were still available. Battlemagi honed their spells and their own abilities to make the best use of their own mana in combat, with the larger goal of maintaining control over Faslan despite the dwindling power of the spells at their command.

Only the white sterling nobles still made wide-scale use of material intensive spells, though in the final years before their fall even they had become quite frugal.

The seven tier-zero spells Landes picked all had something to do with alchemy. He was quite satisfied with his choice as well, though he had one regret. Tawari had advised him to reserve at least one of his six triangles for a combat spell. He'd listened to him, but had never needed to use the spell in the end, and over the years he'd discovered several dozen other alchemy related spells he used regularly he could have put in there instead.

Tawari's advice was bad only in retrospect, however. His logic had been sound. The world wasn't safe anymore, and it was becoming worse with every passing year. Rune magus or not, he had to be able to protect himself. It would have been prudent even without the ever-dwindling power of magi and their control over the common masses. The power struggles between magi and their bitter feuds and rivalries alone were justification enough to keep something on hand. Even if he never actually used the spell, just letting others know that he had a permanent combat rune would be enough to scare of most of the people he had to worry about. Those that could afford to ignore that knowledge were the kinds of people he couldn't face even if he had only combat spells anyway.

Claude also noticed a tone of gratefulness for Tawari's advice in Landes' writing even as he said he regretted taking it. Having a permanent formation for a combat spell was infinitely better than memorising it for normal use through a temporary formation. He, as a rune magus, would never be allowed to learn more powerful combat spells than those made available for the choice of initial seven, and using one of those spells through a temporary formation was a waste of mana. They were completely worthless unless their corresponding formations were permanent.

Tawari was also right about the deterrent properties of having one of those spells. He'd been seen practicing it once and after that nearly nine-tenths of all the people that made trouble for him regularly suddenly stopped.

It was only normal, Claude thought, rookies were always bullied by seniors. Most of Landes' seniors, however, were rune magi and didn't have any combat spells. So they were completely outclassed by him and would stand no chance in a fight. He had a great big sword, and all his prospective opponents had were their fists. They might just be able to overpower him if they ganged up on him, but more than a few of them would still suffer for it, and no one wanted to take the chance of being one of them.

Chapter 78 - Basic Spells

The second diary's first couple of pages dealt mainly with Landes' seven basic spells. Landes even drew sketches of the formations. And explained the principles behind how they worked.

Claude didn't really understand why Landes wrote the diary that way. It felt less like a diary and more like a textbook, not that he was complaining. If not for that, the diary would be worthless to him as a way to learn about magic.

Landes' core spell was Magus' Hands. It was one of the most popular choices for rune magi. It was an essential spell for experimentation. The diary said that some experiments needed ten casts or more. No rune magus worth his salt engraved it anywhere but the hexagon.

The spell created mana manifestations of hands that could be controlled by thought, allowing a magus to perform experiments on his own that would otherwise require any number of assistance. Once one got used to working with several times as many hands as was natural, it was far more efficient than trying to coordinate the movements of several assistants. It was also essential to conduct experiments that used poisonous, corrosive, or very hot or cold materials like acids or molten metal.

His first slave spell was Eye of Appraisal. It allowed a magus to scrutinise objects, especially runes and rune formations far more closely than the human eye could, even the mana-empowered eye of a magus. Not only that, but the caster could shift his point of view relative to the target as he wished and view it from all angles.

His second slave spell was Fine Control. It was a supplementary spell to Magus' Hands that boosted their dexterity; it also allowed the manifestations to be morphed into different shapes, allowing them to turn into all manner of useful tools such as knives, hammers, needles, and so on.

The third was Decomposition. The key and sole role of one-ring rune magi was to do the preparatory work for experiments lead or done alone by senior magi, and this spell as essential for that. It decomposed an object or material into its constituent parts in as far as the caster understood them. A magus, for example, who didn't know about atoms, for example, couldn't decompose water into hydrogen and oxygen atoms. They could, however, decompose a rock into its various constituent materials such as silica sand, organic materials, and individual ores.

That setup again made sense to Claude. Research projects and their experiments were usually handled by professors or senior researchers, while the juniors under their care or tutelage would handle the menial preparatory and documentary tasks. Less junior assistants might be put in charge of smaller, component experiments and the lead researcher would just review their reports to incorporate into the main experiment.

The fourth slave spell was Reconstruction, the opposite of Decomposition. It allowed the caster to assemble materials into larger matrices, to recreate the rock from the ores, as it were. The two were core spells in potion creation. Base materials were decomposed into their constituent elements, and the desired materials selected from those and then reconstructed into the potion. More effective or complex potions would require additional spells or rune formations, however, but they all functioned on the same basic principle.

Landes' fifth slave spell was his combat spell Magic Missile. The mana channelled through the formation congealed into a semi-solid, plasma-like projectile that could even pierce thick metal plates. It felt very much like the plasma guns so popular in earth's science fiction.

The projectile took on the properties of the mana used to form it, so Landes's was much like a small ball of fire. In his case, his affinity made the projectile more powerful, while others might make it freeze the area around its impact, or shock anything it touched. Each element imparted its weakness to the projectile as well, however. In Landes's case, though his fire mana made the projectile more powerful, it also severely limited its range. Like a piece of burning wood flung through the air, it very quickly snuffed out. It could do rapidly decreasing damage out to only about ten metres. If he really pushed it, he might be able to burn exposed flesh or clothing out to twenty metres, but the projectile dissipated at that point.

That, to Claude, was 'true magic'. He remembered a video game he used to play that had its magi throw fireballs with their bare hands. At least part of it was due to his age at the time, but he'd always thought stuff like that was really cool. He pictured Magic Missile in much the same way. He didn't care about the range limitation, he could just shoot anything more than ten metres from him with his musket.

If he knew that spell, he would not have to worry about stuff like niros crocodiles or thugs anymore. In fact, he would relish drawing the poor sods in close and then pummelling them with fireballs out of nowhere. In his excitement, however, he forgot how taboo magic was. If he left any witnesses, his life would end not long after.

Landes didn't feel the same way Claude did, however. He felt Clean would have been a far more useful spell to engrave there. He was always saddled with cleaning duty after experiments, and he resented not being able to just cast a spell to do the work for him. Well, he could still cast it a few times, but since he had to draw the temporary formation every time, he had far fewer uses than others, and it was never enough.

The sterilising agent he had to use when doing it by hand also burned his hands, so they were always discoloured and blistered. Claude didn't think Landes was thinking far enough ahead, however. His complaint was only relevant for the couple of years he had to be an apprentice and assist with experiments. In the long run, once he became more senior, he would pass those duties on to his juniors, and then that spell would be mostly useless to him. The combat spell, or indeed any of the other simple spells, which Claude didn't know, would be worth more than Clean.

The final spell made Claude look twice. It was a complete joke. Mental Shock was one of Landes' original -- read 'plagiarised' -- spells.

His main assistant role was that of feeder. He was responsible for feeding the beasts kept by the tower for its experiments. Most of them were small critters, but some were more fearsome. The tower kept several snakes and niros crocodiles, for example.

The standard research procedure in most towers was as follows. The tower master decided what research was to be conducted, and passed his decisions on to his most senior rune magi, who would design the experiments and pass on material requisitions to their apprentices. These would scour the tower's stores to gather said materials. If the tower didn't have one or more of the materials, the battlemagi would be sent out to find them.

The towers didn't breed the wild beasts or keep them permanently. Instead they were caught in the wild a few weeks or months before an experiment was scheduled to be done, and kept in or near the tower until they were used. Niros crocodiles, for example, were most frequently caught for their skins, which were used to make talismans for use in low-tier spells.

Shortly after Landes' arrival at the tower, the towermaster decided to investigate the devolution of niros crocodiles from magic beasts to normal animals. He suspected that the high level of ambient mana and magic materials was what triggered the evolution of animals into magic beasts, and that without them, they'd return to being just normal animals. Naturally, this called for testing.

He sent Tawari and several other battlemagi into Kemda to catch a couple crocodiles. They were kept near the tower in an enclosure surrounded by a large formation which funnelled magic into the cage. Some poor first-rank sod had to inject his mana into the formation every day, and some other poor sod had to feed the beasts.

Landes and his colleagues were living batteries for that experiment. Loenk wanted to test whether creatures that had always been normal animals would evolve into magic beasts if given enough mana, so he had several other species caught and caged as well.

Landes was chosen for the unfortunate job of feeder. He came from a house of fishermen, and thus was deathly afraid of the beasts he now had to feed. He literally shat himself when he realised that if they ever did turn into magic beasts, they could easily break through the formations that restrained them now and eat him.

That fear was what drove him to finally accepting Tawari's advice to engrave a combat spell in one of his triangles. Tawari also taught him another spell to use with the temporary formation: Banshee's Howl.

Neither spell could kill the beasts if they were strong enough to break through the formations restraining them, but they might just buy him enough time to get out of there, alive.

Banshee's Howl was a psychic spell that sent its targets into a panicked frenzy. Its effects were too strong for Landes' comfort, and it used too much mana. So Landes decided to derive a simple version of Banshee's Howl that used less and didn't have as extensive an effect. The original spell was a crowd control spell that affected everything within a certain range, which was the main reason for its heavy mana cost. Landes' derived spell, on the other hand, focused on just a single target and only momentarily incapacitated the opponent, rather than sending it into a frenzy. He decided to call it Mental Shock.

Tawari nearly slapped his hexagram right out of his void space when he heard what the idiot had done. Not only was the spell weak, it could only be used up to ten metres out.

Chapter 79 - Claude's Dilemma

Landes wasn't happy with his senior's evaluation of his spell. Tawari viewed things differently as a battlemagus, however. 'Scholar meets soldier', as the saying goes.

Tawari said Landes had missed Banshee's Howl's point as a spell. It was a crowd control spell meant to help a magus out of a bad situation where they were outnumbered. It was meant to make opportunities for a singular magus, either to escape or take out as the situation required.

Landes disagreed. He didn't need a crowd control spell. He needed one that could immobilise a specific target and give him time to do his job. It fit his need precisely.

Claude could understand both sides of the argument, and empathised with both Landes and Tawari. Most importantly, his spell was still a psychic one, which meant it didn't do any harm to the body, and didn't affect the materials.

In modern, non-magic terms, it was a strike to the back of the head. It didn't knock its target out like the physical strike, but it incapacitated it without doing any physical damage. Claude could agree on that point, but he felt it was still a waste to engrave that into one of the triangles. He didn't agree with the Landes' reasoning for putting it there either. Landes engraved Mental Shock into his hexagram in memory of what it represented, his first play with magic to change something to fit his needs. That was fine and all, but it was a waste to use such a precious spot for it.

And, while the attack didn't damage the materials, it wasn't without its side effects. While none of the beasts ever evolved, Landes' were the only ones to become dumber the longer the experiment went on. Clearly repeated exposure to his spell was damaging their minds.

Luckily for Landes, the towermaster didn't catch wind of his use of Mental Shock, and instead just thought his selection of beasts were becoming domesticated by their prolonged exposure to humans. If he had found out it was all Landes' doing, intentional or not, Claude doubted the apprentice would have lived long enough to write his cookbook diary.

Then again, the tepidity and timidity his repeated use of Mental Shock engrained in the beasts of his charge demonstrated the first real inroads into the domestication of ferocious beasts. While that might have saved Landes' life if it came to it, Claude doubted it would have done much more.

Landes was ecstatic when the towermaster finally ended the research project. He didn't care that an experiment in which he played a key part, and was, in all likelihood, half the reason it failed, he was just glad to not have to feed the beasts, which were still just as ferocious as always in his mind.

That event, and Landes' recounting of it in his diary, gave Claude his first dilemma on his journey into magic. He couldn't decide what path he should take as a magus. Rune magi were the weakest of all magi. They couldn't even fight.

While Landes went into far less detail regarding Tawari's spells than his own, Claude learned enough to understand how much more powerful they were. Tawari had one core spell for each of his rings. Explosive Fireball as his first, Energy Barrier as his second, Blink for his third, Imprisonment for his fourth, and Flight for his fifth. The names were horrible, but if nothing else, they did at least tell him what they did, and his mouth watered at the thought of possibly possessing them.

Unfortunately, Landes didn't describe their formations or the principles behind them, so there was no chance Claude could acquire them.

That was not a problem that need be addressed immediately however, so he put it aside and closed the diary again. He put the diary down, got onto his bed, and started meditating.

The hexagram floated in front of him, slowly rotating clockwise. The hexagon was now glowing red ever so slightly. He estimated it would take him about four or five more months to fill it entirely.

The question continued to claw at the back of his mind despite every effort to ignore it. Should he wait a few years and see if he could find a combat manual or something similar somewhere? Or should he give up on becoming a battlemagus and start engraving Landes' spells now?

It would be easy to go Landes' path. He had his diary -- read 'manual' -- in all its glory. He could at the very least become a four-ring rune magus. His main issue was that, if he did that, he would never have any true combat ability. His best weapon would be a paltry Magic Missile.

That wouldn't have been such a big problem when the world was rampant with magi. He could just rely on someone else to do the fighting. The world wasn't however, and he'd have to rely entirely on himself. Then again, rune magus spells like the ones Landes used could be hidden more readily and used secretly to supplement his activities, the combat spells of Tawari's kin were gaudy and immediately recognisable as magic. Both paths were this both suited and unsuited to his current situation in different ways.

Then again, if he was found out, he would be almost completely defenceless as a rune magus, while he could at least defend himself in the immediate as a battlemagus.

There was also the question of whether rune magus spells would actually have opportunities of use where magic was concerned. He didn't know which materials were or weren't magic, and even if he did, he didn't know if they'd all but gone completely extinct by now. Even if he could only use his battlemagus spells as backup for dire situations, he knew he could at least put them to use in certain situations; it was completely unknown whether rune magus spells would be a complete waste.

They were all difficult questions he'd have to ponder for a long time before he could finally make an informed decision. For now, at least, he would put his decision off for a while, while he searched for a combat manual. He could afford to wait a few years, but not too long.

Each 'ring' was actually a hexagram much like the first. Once the first was filled, the second could be created and crafted, then the third, and so on. Each one could only be created once all the previous ones had been created, filled, and carved with runes. So he could not just keep putting his decision off if he didn't find a combat manual quickly and keep becoming stronger while he waited. Every day he put off his decision after his hexagon was filled, was day he wasted.

On the different hexagrams, however. Only one hexagram could be filled by any one element's particles. It was impossible to have two hexagrams of the same element. Claude's first, and only his first, hexagram could thus be filled with fire particles. And his second hexagram would eventually be the one and only hexagram he could fill with whatever particles he chose to use when the time came.

Upon filling his second hexagram with mana of a different element, one would become a second-rank magus and could pick seven tier-one spells to be carved into the second hexagram as basic spells. Only after that could one be considered a two-ring magus.

Claude had hoped Landes would note down all the basic spells he had come into contact with, and he did have an extensive list in the back of his second diary, sketches of their formations and all, but they were all related to his profession as a rune magus. Besides the two combat spells he had in his first hexagram, no combat spells were noted anywhere in any of his diaries.

Chapter 80 - Throughout the Year-end Vacation

Claude sighed as he stared at the silver moon. He had gone through his considerations repeatedly the last couple of days, but he was still unsure which path to take. Being a battlemagus was good, but he had no spells to learn and no idea how he could get some.

Becoming a rune magus was far more achievable, but it would leave him vulnerable if he was ever discovered, and even before that -- as with combat spells -- he had no magic ingredients and no way to get any. Well, it wasn't quite that bad. He could get at least some of the most rudimentary ingredients at a few sellers and peddlers, with money. He could at least make a few low-grade potions, and do a couple of barrel modifications, for example, and he had the funds for an initial purchase. Fire crystals, however, would be trouble. They were the cornerstone of all alchemical formations, but they were very expensive jewels reserved for the wealthy, such as nobility. Most of the trades were done behind closed doors as well, so just having the funds wasn't enough, he needed the connections to get behind those doors as well. He wanted badly to make a flintlock musket, which he could do with an alchemical formation array, and that was the problem.

Well, there was no point in fatiguing himself over the issues right now. Such matters were still a long ways off.

Regardless of which path he took, he could only continue to train in Hexagram Meditation and gather fire essence. He had a few months before he became a first-rank rune magus.

The weather was getting colder and colder every day now. Claude had to wear the sweater his mother knitted him every time he left home. His leg had recovered and he could run and jump like he had before. The healed torn muscle still acted up from time to time, and tended to get fatigued faster than his other leg, so he trained it daily with a six kilometre run around the south and east edge of town.

The students began becoming restless as the 11th month rolled around. The vacation was getting closer and closer and no one could wait to have two-and-a-half months off of school. Before that, however, they had to write the annual finals. It wasn't a particularly difficult exam, those who studied throughout the year usually passed it easily. Unfortunately that was not the majority of the kids.

The instructors themselves were getting tired, and the discipline sagged. The most affected where the teachers responsible for final year classes. In addition to the normal fatigue from a long year's work, they were also preoccupied with finishing up for the third years' final exam and preparing for the graduation ceremony.

Borkal and Eriksson had fully awakened their interest in the opposite sex, and frequently exploited the lax discipline to slip out of class and peep on the girls' class. A few were even beginning the 'foolish years' as it was known, falling in love for the first time, which often resulted in them smiling like fools the whole day if they got a word or two out of their crush.

"There's no saving those two..." Claude sighed, shaking his head as he watched the two boys literally wobble into class, glassy-eyed and smiling like painted dolls. They'd gotten literally just a couple of words in with their crushes, Betty and Porya. Claude didn't even want to think what they were picturing vividly at that moment.

"Sorry, Claude," Welikro murmured shyly from the side.

"What's up?" Claude asked.

"Well... I asked my dad if I could take you out to Egret with us for the break, but he said it was too dangerous. After what happened to you last time we went out--" Welikro darted a glance at Claude's leg. "--he's not willing to risk anything with you. He said that, while he doesn't doubt you can take on the island in winter, he is not going to bet his reputation and standing on it."

Claude nodded understandingly.

"It's fine, Wero. Your dad wouldn't take me along even if mine said it was okay. Don't feel bad. Why don't you take a nap? We have the physical tests this afternoon and I want you at your best when I beat you!"

Claude had done well in the academic portion of the finals thus far. He'd gotten 17th overall, and his friends did quite well thanks to cheating off him. All the kids knew what they were doing, and it didn't help their reputation at all, but no one had the guts to tell the examiners what was going on.

Claude won over Welikro in the physical tests eventually thanks to outdoing Welikro in his weak spots, and matching him where he was stronger. Had Claude not won the rapier and two-hander competitions and finished fifth with the shortsword, winning the entire event overall, Welikro might have beaten him. Even Claude at his best couldn't beat the boy in unarmed combat.

The fearsome four would be split once school ended, for which the town was infinitely grateful. Eriksson was to leave with his father for the Sea of Storms. It was his first time sailing out of the bay in winter and he couldn't wait to get underway.

Welikro was leaving for Egret with his father as usual. They usually only went for a couple of weeks once, but this time they would go back for a second trip because his father had promised his sister a stonefox pelt, and if they didn't get one in the hunt, he'd have to make enough from the season to buy the girl one.

Borkal's father was dragging him off with him to tour the prefectures and check up on the various establishments he owned. They set off even before school closed on the last day.

Claude had no such luck. He was not going anywhere, and now he didn't even have his cronies to distract him. The only thing he could do was play with his younger siblings and the pup, aside from his meditations, of course.

He had some money to burn, and a lot of dead time ahead, so he scoured the town's bookstores and peddlers for anything he could find, and was left completely empty handed.

His sister and little brother were all too happy to accompany him, which made things only harder for him since he had to keep an eye on them while trying to find something worthwhile, and they were rapidly eating up, in some cases quite literally, his money. He didn't have the heart to tell them they couldn't come along, however, and so he ended up saved by his father's miserliness. The older man forbade the two from tagging along, saying they were taking unfair advantage of their older brother.

The two nearly threw tantrums, but he stood firm and resolute, and they eventually gave up and locked themselves in their room.

Welikro stopped by a couple weeks into the vacation and brought him a muntjac leg. A muntjac was a species of deer common to the three prefectures. They were about the size of a goat but could not jump over a twig if it was in their way. They were very easy to catch for someone who knew what he was doing, and they were rapidly going extinct in the region. By now they were a rare, if easy, catch.

They had yet to catch a stonefox, so they were only back here to drop of their pickings and restock on supplies. They were leaving again in a day or two. Despite everything Claude had done to ease him, Welikro was still very unhappy with himself for failing to convince his father to let the boy come along. Not just because it felt wrong to leave his friend in town while he went out on an adventure, but because it was a waste for a hunter as talented as Claude to waste an entire season languishing in boredom at home. Claude's father would never let him go, however, and neither would Welikro's father for that matter, so there was nothing to do but feel ashamed.

Claude showed him the letter he got from Borkal just two days earlier. It said he wouldn't be back for new year's, since his father had decided they would spend it at his aunt's in Simlock. He hoped to be back by the end of the 1st month, however.

Eriksson was next on the chopping block. They'd not heard about him yet, but if his father did the same as the previous times, he ought to be back just before new year's.

Welikro wanted to make up for his absence, and since Claude had nothing to do, really, the two headed south of town at Welikro's suggestions for a little hunting. He forbade Claude from using traps, however.

"This is to practise your shooting as much as it is to hunt. So no traps!" he'd said, wagging his finger at Claude like an angry teacher.

Claude had to fight to swallow his laughter, but managed somehow to nod almost seriously.

Welikro left again two days later as he'd said, and Claude was alone once more. The snow finally came down and covered everything in a daily-thickening blanket blanched of all colour. Balinga's edges also started to freeze.

Eriksson returned just before the harbour had to close down for the winter, and brought with them two whales.

Chapter 81 - Whale Meat and Tradition

Every winter, Captain Altroni's return on Shark of Red Sea from his whaling trip drew the entire town. Shops and restaurants and even the local government offices were closed as everyone charged down to the harbour. Well, most of the shops would usually close not long after the captain returned for the worst of winter anyway.

The captain always received a cheered welcome, no less fervent than the boys received when they returned with the crocodile. The docks, though already quiet, ground to a halt as people crammed into every nook and cranny and backed up the streets for blocks, trying to catch a glimpse of the giant ocean beasts. A few astute shop owners turned gawkers to peddle their wares, especially food and drink, to the crowds.

Claude and Welikro tunnelled their way through the lake of people to Eriksson's family pier. Pegg, as always, was standing guard and let the two boys in.

Shark of Red Sea bobbed half-frozen a hundred metres out onto the lake. In front of it several dozen people were picking away at the ice.

Claude turned to Pegg, a question in his eyes.

It was almost a year to the day since his former self had fallen into the icy water during a fishing trip out onto the ice.

"No. No ships will dock for the winter. Out there they can still hammer themselves loose if they freeze in, but if they're frozen in against the pier, they're stuck until the ice melts. It's too risky to try and pick between the ship's hull and the pier." Pegg answered, "The smaller boats are usually hauled onto the shore for winter, while the bigger ships anchor offshore. They'll still freeze in, but the ice will be thinner so it'll be easier to cut them loose. They're just testing the ice's strength. They'll bring the ship closer until they find ice strong enough to hold the whales, then haul them the rest of the way to shore before moving the ship back out."

Claude's eyes turned to the two whales dangling by their tails, half submerged on either side of the ship. The ship was at least two metres deeper in the water than it had been when it left, and the parts of the whales he could see were at least as long as the ship. How big were the beasts? Their rears looked much the same as the whales he knew from his previous life, but the front parts were quite different. Their skin was grey-blue, much like what the sketches he'd seen of blue whales, but he could just make out a bony length sticking up above the water near where he guessed each's head ought to be. He surmised it had to be something akin to a horn.

So they were most like the narwhals of old? If he remembered the description from his textbooks, then narwhals weren't particular large though, which these things definitely were. They were huge!

"They've made it big this time," Welikro commented from the side.

The memories were now flooding back with more clarity. Narwhals used to be much more common that other whales before the great whaling purge all but hunted them out of existence. Much like their earth counterparts, the narwhals, as Claude decided to call them now, were the primary prey for whalers. He remembered one of the books in his father's study talked about how magi used to send their subjects out to hunt for the whales because they were rich in magic materials.

Apparently their horns were one of the most commonly required ingredients for alchemy. Their horns continued to be ascribed magical properties even after the magi were chased off the continent. One major superstition was that a powder concoction made from their horns and several other dried herbs greatly improved a man's vigor. As such, their horns often fetched ridiculous prices in auction.

"Uncle Pegg, you said they were testing the ice. So are they going to bring the whales to shore?" Claude asked.

Pegg shook his head.

"No. That'd be too much work. They'll drag them onto the ice then butcher them there and bring the cuts to shore. We only got one last year, but this year it's two, so the meat should a lot cheaper for a while."

So they brought them back every year? If the meat was going to be cheap, no wonder the crowd was this big. If the meat tasted good as well, he doubted even he'd give up the opportunity to snag a good piece.

"Wero, Claude!" Eriksson's soft shout came through the cold air from the boat. The two squinted and could just make out a small figure waving what looked like a hat or hood above its head. The two waved back. The figure clambered down the side of the ship like a monkey and ran to them across the ice, slipping and falling several times along the way.

"I missed you bastards to death!" the boy shouted as he tackled the two in a half-dive half-fall, "where's Boa?"

"He left with his dad. The two are staying at his aunt's for new year's," Claude explained.

Welikro looked Eriksson up and down, then slapped his back as hard as he could, causing the boy to stumble and pull Claude down with him as he collapsed to his knees.

"Glad to see you still have all four your limbs! We should celebrate!" Welikro laughed when Eriksson shot him a questioning glare.

It wasn't an exaggeration. Whaling was a dangerous affair and newcomers often lost fingers or toes to frostbite. When not freezing off digits, the cold sapped dexterity, making mistakes and slips more frequent, and on a ship bobbing in the cold waters with hundreds of loose things, most of which heavy enough to crush a man, it too only one bad slip or one bad mistake to lose an arm or a leg, or even come back a frozen corpse, if at all.

Eriksson nudged Welikro.

"What are you saying? You look down on me too much! Who do you think I am? I'm the future captain of Whitestag!--" He turned to Claude. "--This trip was eye-opening! I'm sure you can't imagine how calm the stormy seas are in winter. The sea turns to gold every morning! I thought it was Lake Balinga once or twice when I was sleepy!"

Eriksson gave a quick, though not brief, account of his trip. Claude thought he was going to pass out for lack of breath a couple of time, and eventually shoved a cup of water in his hands to silence him for a few moments when he hit the hour mark.

"Thank you... I was getting a little dry," Eriksson said like an old sailor.

He only realised they were in Pegg's little house when he put the cup back down.

Claude glared at him.

"You're dry but we're soaking! Can't you control your saliva a little better? At least aim it at something other than us!"

"Come on... I was just happy to see you!" Eriksson smiled awkwardly.

The first of the whales now lay on the ice and the men were poking its swollen stomach to let it deflate. The fins were already cut off and were on their way to shore on sleds. Pegg, Eriksson's father, and a few sailors were already seated behind desks on the dock, ready to cut the fins up and start selling the meat.

The front of the crowds had formed long, if not neat, lines and were waiting, baskets in hand, for their turn to buy some meat.

"How much does it sell for?" Claude asked.

"They're quite cheap. One sunar for five catties," Eriksson answered.

Cheap indeed. A catty of beef was one sunar and four fennies; and a catty of mutton was a full sunar. Smoked mutton was one sunar and eight fennies a catty and pork was five sunars a catty. Wild boar could go for up to eight sunars a catty and a single longtail was six sunars.

His father's normal salary was good enough he could buy meat without worry, but most people had to be happy with meat in their meals only once a week or two, even then they ate mostly cheap fish. He'd heard narwhal tasted like good beef, so it was quite the steal at the price it was going.

Eriksson's father was quite the butcher too, Claude thought as he watched the man expertly cleaving a fin in two. Pegg was on scale duty, at which he, too, appeared quite adept.

Most people paid with a sunar and took a single five-catty piece. The first in the rows darted off, half-afraid others might be impatient enough to snatch their precious meat. They didn't leave without thanking the captain, however, who smiled at each of them between cleaver strikes.

Welikro nudged Claude and pointed at the captain's blade. Claude stared at it carefully for a minutes, then realised he cut like a machine; each piece was nearly exactly the same size each time.

"Five catties, two taels," Pegg said, staring at the scale.

Eriksson didn't look surprised at the scene.

"That's how they work every time. Dad's been splitting fish for twenty years or more. I'll be just as good, eventually," he said.

"Why only buy five catties? Can't they buy more?" Claude asked.

"They don't dare," Eriksson said proudly.

Whaling was an Altroni tradition Eriksson's grandfather started, another captain. Their family ship, Shark of Red Sea, hadn't been built yet. It was always a gamble and it wasn't rare for someone to die during a hunt.

Eriksson's grandfather was never one of the victims, though, and he was the one that started cutting the meat. He first did it when he cut a piece for the family of a sailor he lost during the hunt.

Eriksson's father built Shark of Red Sea, and his whaling trips were the safest yet in town. He continued his father's tradition of giving away cuts to the sailors and their family lost during the trips, even the now-grown-up children of sailors who'd died years ago on his father's trips continued to get cuts. Few still accepted however, those with the means all insisted on paying the market price -- be what it was.

It wasn't that people didn't want to buy more, but Captain Altroni wouldn't let anyone buy more than a single cut so he could make sure everyone got some.

Chapter 82 - New Year's Eve

Claude went home with ten catties of whale that evening. The meat came from the tail of the first whale, a gift from Eriksson. It was supposed to be the best part of the entire whale; pure muscle and quite sought after by whale gourmets.

Eriksson's return gave Claude at least one companion for new year's. The three wandered around town looking for any opportunity for fun during the festivities. They even secretly took Eriksson's boat for a spin at one point for some fishing. They didn't get anything though. The lake's surface water was barren during winter.

Arbeit returned shortly before new year's. Claude hadn't seen him since their father had all but chased him out six months earlier. He at least appeared more mature. He didn't glare at Claude as much, though the boy could still see the hatred in his eyes.

Angelina and Bloweyk treated him like a stranger. Infuriated, he at one point kicked the by-now-no-longer-a-puppy. The family stared at him speechlessly. The no-longer-small thing had become quite beloved, so nobody came to Arbeit's rescue when the dog turned around and tore his pants to shreds.

Their mother only stepped in once the pup started going after his legs themselves. Arbeit nearly cried when he realised he'd been all but replaced by the dog. It was a dog! Even if they liked the pest, they shouldn't be chastising him for kicking a mere dog! Even his father comforted the dog instead of him!

His family forgave him, but the dog never did. From that day onwards, it growled at him whenever they crossed paths.

New year came round a few days after Arbeit's return and the town's families scattered the various shrines. Some went to the war god's shrine, some to the earth goddess' shrine, and some to the moon goddess'.

Everyone else did so as well. The townsfolk went to their guardian deity's shrine and waited for the new year's bells to ring. Morssen dragged Claude along to the war god's shrine. Madam Ferd and the younger siblings went to the earth goddess' shrine, naturally the dog went with them. Most of the youngsters and their mothers went there as well.

The teenagers and singletons went to the moon goddess's shrine to pray for romance and companions. It was an especially popular choice for teenage girls and young women, who dreamt of meeting their destined ones on new years. Couples formed on that night were said to be bound by destiny and would never break up.

Arbeit was one of the young men who went with the same purpose, though not all were intent on finding wives so much as mistresses. Claude had to fight back his laughter when he saw the peacock come out of his long-empty room. He vowed to pray a bird shat on the bastard at the worst possible moment.

For all his age, this was Claude's first new year since his arrival. He didn't lack memories, but none of them were his, so they all lacked the sense of authenticity of his own.

He was glad that one of the ways this world differed from the history of his original one was that religion never had a strong grasp on the population. The churches never got the kinds of power the old Catholic church had on earth, probably because the magi would never allow such an institution to be able to challenge or question their position at the top of the world, even with the gods. The religions themselves, which had remained largely unchanged since the days of the magi, which had probably been designed the way they were by the magi themselves, were very tolerant and accepting of competing beliefs. A big part of that, he thought, was the way each deity had been given a very specific, defined role in the religions. Each god had a specific place and purpose, and it wasn't rare to find a priest or priestess from one shrine, sending someone to another when their prayers didn't match the purpose of the shrine in question's deity.

The war god's shrine was the biggest of the three, but it was also the most popular, so, despite its size, it was already packed by the time Claude and his father arrived. The small plaza outside the shrine's main entrance was decorated with a panoply of flags and tents and there was a constant stream of people.

The tents were mainly the temporary setups of taverns hoping to make some extra money from serving the pilgrims, many of whom weren't from the town itself, but had come from the surrounding farmland and smaller towns for the occasion. They had to pay rent for the spaces, and the money was split equally between the shrine, the government, and the guards on duty.

This plaza also had a giant pyre in the middle sending tongues of flame into the night alongside the voices of the attendees as they chatted around it.

Claude's father wasn't here for the bells and the celebration, however. He went straight to the shrine's entrance with his son and was escorted inside by a number of priests. Claude realised how exclusive the inside of the shrine was for this occasion when he saw only bigshots from the town inside. Everyone greeted him and his father with equal respect and a few even stayed for a couple of words with him. He'd known his father was important and well-known, but he'd never realised just how much of a celebrity he actually was.

It took them half an hour to make it across the hall, which they did at a snail's pace thanks to all the eager greetings, and they disappeared into a quiet wing. It was far sparser in population, and Claude recognised every face in it. These were the cream of the crop, the top administrators of the region.

Baron Robert, Whitestag's mayor was among them, as was the school principal -- a recluse of a man -- the head treasurer, the chief inspector, and a number of equally important people from neighbouring towns. His father may be high enough in standing to sit among them, but he was clearly still their junior, as he was the one to greet each first. They started at the bottom of the unspoken hierarchy and worked their way up to Baron Robert. Claude followed his father in a bow to the noble before taking their seats on a bench to the side.

The atmosphere was stifling. Claude felt like his every move was being scrutinised. He prayed everything would be over soon, or they didn't have to stay for the whole event if not. He'd just settled in when he heard someone say a greeting to 'Sir Fux'. Everyone in the room, Baron Robert included, stood up and turned to the door, smiles suddenly on their faces, smiles which didn't all reach their eyes.

Someone laughed jovially. Claude turned to the man and saw it was the shrine's senior-most priest. He disappeared under a ball of robes and was talking to Sir Fux.

Another battle of greetings ensued as the top dog of the night entered the wing. Sir Fux was full of smiles and returned every greeting with the practiced grace any statesman would envy. Claude had to admit, however, he was amazed at how well the old man could remember information. He didn't just know every person that greeted him by name, but shot amicable questions about their families, sick nieces, wilting parents, or worried wives with greater accuracy and better timing than even the greatest hunter. Not even the seasoned Baron Robert was immune to those shots and a genuine, friendly smile blossomed on his face as he exchanged pleasantries with Sir Fux.

Claude was in the middle of trying to put his jaw back in place when he heard a familiar voice call his name softly. He turned around and saw Eriksson tucked away in a corner waving at him as subtly as the boy could. He tugged on his father's arm surreptitiously, and the man nodded without looking away from Sir Fux.

The two vanished as quickly as they could and slid out of the shrine.

Eriksson explained his father had dragged him into the main hall and he'd slipped away when he saw Claude and his father disappear into the elite's wing. He couldn't just go in to look for Claude, however; he didn't have the social standing, so he had to slip in with Sir Fux's cabal.

Claude finally realised how much of a young master he actually was. Even his friends stood on a lower mountain than he. So that was the class divide. Rich as any civilian may be, they could never stand as equals with a government official, and no government official -- those that weren't noble as well -- could ever stand as a noble's equal, no matter how high up in the government they were.

"Let's go to the moon shrine. Welikro's there too. I bet Kefnie is there too~" Eriksson teased, but Claude ignored him.

"Welikro's there because his father told him to keep an eye on his sister, we can't distract him," Claude chastised.

Claudeval, Welikro's savvy sister, had wanted to marry long ago. But her rough physique and even rougher personality meant no upstanding young man with options even looked in her direction. She was so desperate lately she would settle even for just a pinky promise.

The two headed to the shrine. Its plaza, and the pyre within, was somewhat smaller than the war god shrine's. The mood was much livelier than the war god's plaza, however, and music and song accompanied the flames into the night sky.

Yes, Claude thought, this place was much more suited to a youngster like himself.

"Let's go," Eriksson tugged on him, pointing at a light pink tent in one corner of the plaza.

"That's a tavern, right? We're still minors. Why would we go there? It's not like they'll sell us anything, anyway."

Taverns weren't above selling to minors, but only behind closed doors. This was too public, so they wouldn't risk trouble.

"They don't just sell alcohol there. They have milk tea and hot fruit juice as well. Not to mention the snacks..." Eriksson half shouted, nearly yanking Claude off his feet, "Come on! You'll be surprised~"

Chapter 83 - Half a Cup of Milk Tea

Claude gazed at the shy Kefnie and rolled his eyes at Eriksson. Was this the surprise?

Eriksson didn't get what he was trying to convey at all; he just thought he'd done his friend a huge favour.

"Surprise! You didn't expect this, huh? Alright, Kefnie, I brought Claude over. Look after him! I've got to go take a look at some stuff. See you later!"

"Hey..." Claude shouted, but the troublemaker was already gone.

The two supposed lovebirds stood awkwardly. Claude had been quite the player back on earth, but he was just an inexperienced teen now.

"Cough... Ahem, good to see you, Kefnie. I didn't think I'd meet you here," Claude coughed while he tried to figure out how to extricate himself from the situation and give that bastard a good beating.

Kefnie's already pink face turned crimson from collar to hairline.

"I'm glad to see you too... Want something to drink?"

Claude stared at her for half a moment, then realised she was holding a tray and wore a waitress's uniform.

"You.. You're... here..."

"This is The Mermaid's tent. I'm helping my sister out for the night."

The girl spoke with surprising uncharacteristically bold pride.

"I see..." Claude mumbled.

Thank goodness she wasn't there on a date with someone else. He must just have been overthinking things. Eriksson had probably brought him specifically because he heard she was working there. He supposed it made sense. His former self had had a serious crush on the little thing and his friends had read every bit of courtesy towards her on his part as a continuation of that crush.

"What do you have? I am a little thirsty," Claude continued, somewhat less awkward now he'd figured things out.

His friends had put in all this effort, so he might as well use the opportunity to catch his breath.

"Have a seat," Kefnie said as he led him to an empty table, her face suddenly a bright sun, "We have honeyed milk tea, honeyed flower tea, honeyed apple juice, honeyed cucumber juice, honeyed mixed berry juice, honeyed blueberry juice, honeyed orange juice--"

"--Why is everything honeyed?"

"It's new year's eve, of course everything has to be honeyed! Especially here--" The girl's cheeks reddened again. "--where all the kids are looking to make couples."

Honeyed drinks for a sweet night? Claude accepted his defeat before the simple reasoning.

"Let me have a cup of honeyed milk tea then."

"Alright. That's five sunars," Kefnie said, staring at Claude.

Five sunars? Claude nearly spat out the tea he hadn't drunk yet.

A cup of honeyed milk tea was usually just one sunar. Now it was five times that?! Sweet night indeed! He sighed and took out the money, He should not have walked in here without checking prices first, he chastised himself.

"Thanks. Just a moment." Kefnie chirped and left.

The tent was pretty big, around 30 meters square. At least half of that was just the counter, however. It stood in the middle like a continent and the tables dotted the space around it like islands. A row of bar stools also hugged the counter.

Kefnie returned about a minute later with his tea.

"Business doesn't look that good. The wargod shrine is chock 'n block," Claude started awkwardly, trying his best to keep the awkward silence in their hearts at bay.

The girl giggled.

"It's still early, that's why. It'll pick up a lot later tonight. It'll be so packed I won't even have space to walk! The high prices will actually attract more people, not less, since the boys will take the chance to show off how wealthy they are."

Claude stared at her.

"D'you come up with this?"

"No, my sister did. She's over there--" Kefnie poked an elbow in the counter's general direction.

"Makes sense," Claude shrugged, "You learn something new every day--" Claude took a sip of his tea and flinched. "--Too sweet. How much honey did you put in?

"Is it really sweet?--" The girl blinked frantically. "--I added two extra spoons for you. If you think it's too sweet, I can add a bit more milk tea."

"Oh? You offer refills?"

"No, this is special service since you're my first customer tonight."

"Can you bring an empty cup instead?"

She glanced at him, a little confused, but did as he asked. He poured half the sugar concoction into the empty cup and held it out to her.

"Refill, please?"

Kefnie vanished for a few moments and returned with a full cup.

"What about the other one?" she asked.

"Could I ask you to join me for a drink, beautiful lady?" Claude asked in a somewhat overly dramatic voice.

The girl didn't humour him, instead she just picked up the cup and took a sip.

"Whoa, it really is too sweet. This won't do. Let me fill it up!"

She vanished again, returning with another full cup, and the two sat and sipped their tea for several, long, awkward moments.

"Warm tea is great in this cold weather." the girl remarked when she could no longer stand the awkward silence, "My father gave me rides on his shoulders when I was younger, and I went to the earth goddess shrine every year with my mother and sister. I always loved sipping milk tea with them on the way back the most. I never thought I'd end up the one to sell the tea."

"...Sorry for reminding you..."

Claude found some habits harder to unlearn than others. If he hadn't transmigrated yet, he would not hesitate to listen to the girls by the bar talk about their past for a good hour or two while he doused them with a few glasses of alcohol. It kept him from having to sleep in a cold bed. Now he was young again, no more than a child, and he lived in a much more conservative world. He treated her to a drink out of habit, but he'd kept his more sensual habits in check.

"It's not your fault," the girl half-smiled, cup clasped tightly in her hands, her eyes somewhere else. "I think back often enough. How wonderful it was when my parents were still around. We were so happy... But, one day, Uncle Manaro told us my dad had died... The sky fell on our heads that day. Mother became ill that same week and left us a year later.

"Sister hugged me the whole night, but I couldn't stop crying. She found a job and I was left at home, alone. I don't even remember how many times over I soaked my teddybear. My sister kept telling me to be tough because one day I'd have to look out for myself. She wants me to find a good man to look after me."

"I'm sure you will. You're a fine girl, you know; you're mature, a good listener, and you're very cute," Claude consoled.

He nearly ran away. She obviously had the hots double and back for him; a shy girl like her didn't open up to just anyone, especially not just any boy her age, about those kinds of things. He didn't want emotional complications in his life right now though, bad or good. All he wanted was to study magic. And once he knew magic, he wanted to travel the world. He couldn't do that if he had to leave a girl behind.

And then there was his father's plan to send him off to Nubissia with the military... There just wasn't a future for him and Kefnie.

"Thanks..." The girl squeaked quietly, her cheeks red as she snuck an obvious glance at him, "Sorry, I don't know why I suddenly told you all that... I'm so embarrassed..."

"No worries. We're schoolmates. What can we do if not listen to each other?" Claude said, giving the word 'schoolmates' particular emphasis.

"Thanks. Oh, someone's calling!" The girl darted away, her still half-filled cup left on the table.

Claude finished his cup and watched as people started pouring into the tent. Kefnie was right. Rich boys and young men were flocking to the tent in droves, potential lovers in tow, to spend their money.

Kefnie couldn't stop and chat anymore, but she kept sneaking glances at him every chance she got. His back started sweating after the nineteenth glance, so he prepared to leave, but Eriksson and Welikro sauntered into the tent at that moment and caught sight of him and the two cups.

"Who's is this?" Eriksson asked.

"Kefnie's. I treated her to a drink but things have gotten too busy so she's back at work," Claude answered.

"Looks like you're making good progress!" Eriksson smiled, "You better thank me later!"

"Where's your sister?" Claude asked Welikro instead of gracing Eriksson with a reply, "Didn't your dad ask you to keep an eye on her?"

"She told me to buzz off because I was 'chasing all the good boys away' I think were her words," Welikro shrugged helplessly.

Eriksson burst out laughing.

"Your dad didn't ask whether you could actually keep an eye on her when he asked you, did he? Your sister's a bear, not a human!"

Welikro's sister looked more like a bear than a woman, it was true. Unfortunately she still had a vixen's witt. Welikro's father often lamented the fact that his daughter wasn't a boy, she would have made the perfect son. Alas, she didn't have the right jewellery, so she was instead a terrifying daughter.

"Stop mocking his sister. What d'ya wanna drink? My treat," Claude quickly interjected.

Welikro might fully agree with Eriksson, but that didn't mean he would allow him to voice their shared thoughts. No one was allowed to mock his sister, even with a truth with which he fully agreed. It was a slight to his honour since she was his sister, and that he would never tolerate.

Eriksson knew that as well, so he accepted the change of topic and ordered honeyed blueberry juice. Welikro took the mixed fruit option. Claude ordered another cup of tea, red tea this time, and asked nothing be added.

They sat and chatted as they waited for the night to finish.

"Come to think of it, why did Baron Robert have to greet Sir Fux? Isn't he a baron? Sir Fux is only a baronet, he should have to greet Baron Robert, he's only a half-step peer, after all," Claude asked.

Eriksson clicked his tongue.

"Mayor Robert is the last in a three-generation limited-peerage. His grandfather was made a peer because he fought under Stellin IX in the civil war. Unlike your father, or Sir Fux, he didn't get his position through hard work or talent, he got it thanks to his title and the connections that came with it. Thanks to all that, he doesn't have a foundation in the town, not one comparable to Sir Fux who's Whitestag's only member of the Council of Dignitaries, after all."

Claude nodded thoughtfully. No wonder his father didn't bring Mayor Robert into the talks regarding the new trade route.

The new year's bell rang and announced the new year, and, with it, Claude's second year in this world.

Chapter 84 - Becoming a One-ring Rune Magus

The new year brought Borkal's return.

The four were now united again, but they still had nowhere to go. Winter was in full swing and everything was frozen in, roads, lakes, forests, fields, everything.

The second month eventually blew around, and with it the great thaw. What was ice the month before, was now mud, and everyone was still just as trapped. School started the fifteenth of that month. The four, all now 17, started their third year in middle school, their final year.

They would be adults in the eyes of the crown starting the day they graduated that autumn, and Claude would lose the privileges he'd enjoyed as his father's charge, he would truly be just another peasant.

The kids' parents finalised their plans that third month, and Captain Altroni prepared to set off for Nubissia for his survey.

Claude crossed his first great hurdle on the road of magic in the fifth month. He finally became a first-rank rune magus. After much consideration, he settled on following the steps left behind by Landes and becoming a one-ring rune magus. Landes hadn't used all his basic spell slots for alchemical spells. There was one combat spell and a mental spell, which were still rather suitable.

The 27th of the 5th of the Sacred Light Calendar was Restoration Day. It fell on a Wednesday, so the kids got a midweek break. The four boys took to the lake for some fishing, but came back all but empty-handed.

Captain Altroni returned on the 3rd of the 6th, but Shark of Red Sea was in a bad way and would need months of repair before she could take to the sea again.

Morssen held a banquet for his friend and secret business colleague's return, at which everyone ended up drunk again. A verbal brawl broke out late that night, however, and everyone left on rather sour terms.

Claude heard everything from his attic. The captain had indeed found a new safe route to Nubissia, and the plan demanded they report the news to the king and await their reward. He also brought other news, however. His route passed through the Alliance's territory, as the five nations allied against Aueras had come to be known. It was safe only with a substantial escort.

Nubissia had recently started producing greater volumes of the basic necessities any large population needed. Trade in these commodities had thus become far less profitable than it had been. It was not enough to pay for the escort any trip along the new route would need. That said, large trade fleets might still make a good profit since they could pool resources to get a smaller escort fleet per-ship than a smaller fleet would need.

That was the crux of the problem. Reporting it now would gain them nothing but credit. If they risked the route on their own, in secret, however, they could make a lot of money, if they survived the trip.

They eventually decided to put off telling anyone for a year. They would use that time to test the waters, quite literally, and see what profit they could make, then inform the crown.

Claude didn't think about it much. It was his father's business, not his, so he had no business butting in. Even if his father wanted to be rewarded for discovering the new route, it wouldn't be that easy. The kingdom would first have to send its own fleet to survey the route and that would take at least two or three years. Even if he became an honorary noble and Claude could get dignitarian status automatically, it would still take at least three years, and Claude would already be serving in the military.

He was more concerned about when he could become a one-ring rune magus. Engraving rune formations in his hexagram was no easy task. Landes described the whole process in great detail and noted the important points, but Claude had already failed a number of times.

Most of the time, he used up all his mental power, making his face pale and giving him a worn expression. His mother even thought he had caught an illness and wanted him to go to the apothecary. Fortunately, the old man said he wasn't sick, only ill-rested.

He snuck over and sneakily told Claude to fap a little less -- doing it too much was bad for his health and proper development. He told Claude getting used to the act might cause him to discharge earlier than he wanted when it came to the real thing and advised him to abstain and only do it when his jewels started aching. He should do it no more than two or three times a week though.

Claude's fist twitched furiously and he nearly punched the old man. Luckily, he restrained himself enough to only glare at the bastard; it was better for his pallor to be mistaken as the result of over-enthusiastic beating of the stick than some taboo magical activities. The former led only to ridicule, the latter to execution.

At least the old man had the propriety to bullshit about feeding him properly rather than telling his mother what he'd told him. He did, however, just have to go and tell her to feed him some 'manhood-boosting' supplements.

On the way back, Claude resolved to put aside some time to study herbs, at least until he could make some basic concoctions. It was a good way to make some money, or he could sell it cheap and undercut the bastard's business.

That was the only hiccup he encountered. A few months later he finished engraving his final formation and became a one-ring rune magus.

Captain Altroni set off for Nubissia again with several other ships on the 25th of the 8th.

Half the town were on the piers, cheering him goodbye, though only a couple of people knew to where he was sailing. Most outsiders believed the voyage was doomed to fail since they were carrying common goods no possible destination would buy at the kinds of prices necessary for the captain to make a profit.

Claude didn't attend. He was wholly focused on familiarising himself with the seven spells he now had at his disposal. One of his more pleasant discoveries was that Magus' Hands had far more uses than just in experiments. The only shortfall was its range; its appendages could only reach out five metres beyond his body. He had also yet to master the multi-tasking necessary to operate more than two hands, so when he operated Magus' Hands, besides being able to manifest just two manifestations, he lost the use of his physical hands.

If Landes was correct, and it had been spot on thus far, that would change when he gained his second ring. Landes' second master spell was Mind Division. Its name was rather self-explanatory. Initial mastery would let Claude split his mind in two, allowing him to control both his two manifestations and his normal hands.

Claude spent most of his free time practicing with Magus' Hands. He lay on his back and used his manifestation to manipulate various objects in his room. The room wasn't that big, so he could reach every nook and cranny of it.

He particularly appreciated that he didn't have to bend down to tie his shoelaces anymore, or sweep the frequently dusty floor, pack away his stuff under his bed, or get up to get the glass of water from his desk or put it back after taking a sip. He had not yet mastered dressing and undressing, however. The manifestations vanished the moment he consciously moved any part of his body.

Claude was quite self-satisfied that he'd discovered a use for the spell not noted in the diaries. Then again, he supposed Landes would have thought of this use if he wasn't as reverently dedicated to his study of magic. Magic, to Landes, was too venerable to use for such menial tasks, so the thought would never even occur to him.

He also spent some time practicing with Eye of Appraisal and found another use for that spell as well. He once used the spell to focus in on a small gap between the roof beams of his room, and saw a bug crawling around on the lip, which he very quickly squashed with a manifestation.

Eye of Appraisal, much like Magus' Hands, only worked on objects within five metres of him. And, at least for the time being, it could only focus his vision to magnify something he focused on. It didn't actually give him information about the object like he hoped based on his experience with similar skills in games and webnovels. Damnit, webnovels were useless!

Fine Control was a great supplement to Magus' Hands. He used it to turn one of his manifestations into a magic ramrod, which made reloading his gun quite a bit faster. It would make his life much cheaper in the future since he wouldn't have to buy anymore tools.

He had yet to do anything with Decomposition and Reconstruction, however, since he had no alchemical materials on which to try them. He'd tried a thing or two, but nothing had happened. He'd spent half an hour staring at two pencils like a fool trying to fuse them, only to discover the only things he'd fused were his saliva and his shirt.

Magic Missile and Mental Shock had yet to be tested. They would make too big a commotion to try in a populated area, so they had to wait until he could get out of town for a while.

Chapter 85 - Mental Shock and Animal Trials

Claude's matchlock was slung over his back as he walked the mountain path.

The afternoon classes were one period of wrestling and two periods of marksmanship. Claude was invincible in wrestling against everyone but Welikro. He flung three students out of the ring, and no one dared challenge him since.

They'd started marksmanship only that year, though, counter to what the name suggested, it taught everything but marksmanship. It focused mainly on the fundamentals of reloading and use of the gun.

The school, as most, used the oldest model of firearm, it was also the heaviest, which made for good training despite its outdated design.

Claude and Welikro were passed after just two sessions and were absolved of further attendance.

The instructor didn't have much choice. The two boys could reload even faster than he, and that would not do for either his pride, or his authority as an instructor. The two thus once again had the afternoons free. The two completely ignored Borkal and Eriksson's puppy eyes, and left, through camaraderie to the dogs, they had none of it.

Claude said they would rather go hunting with their newer muskets, so the time would not be wasted, so he said, anyway. Welikro preferred to fish, so Claude went up the mountain alone. Claude supposed his friend's interest in fishing more-so than hunting was to be expected. He grew up on the trail, so it was nothing new and exciting for him, which fishing was. Claude made his way up the mountains to a large plateau on which grew a forest, the outskirts of which had become his hunting ground.

Sometimes having good friends was a problem in its own right... He didn't have much private time, for example. Everything was done with his friends. Moments like these, where he could enjoy the quiet of the forest, were thus precious, exceedingly so. And now more than ever he appreciated an excuse to get out of town on his own. He was desperate to try out his two combat spells.

He was most excited about Magic Missile. He literally giggled after first using it. It was everything he'd imagined and more. It felt like carrying five muskets around with him that were always ready to fire. As long as his mana held up, he had unlimited ammunition. And the fire rate was closer to that of a slow machine gun than a rifle. Even better; he could cast it while moving, unlike his alchemical spells.

Oh, the gods had truly blessed him this time!

Unfortunately, the spell was only useful as a defensive measure. The chances of getting within ten metres of a target without alerting it to his presence and sending it scampering off into the underbrush was all but infinitesimal, not that the spell was worth using even if that succeeded. Scorched rabbit didn't generally sell well.

Landes had apparently asked Tawari how effective it would really be in a fight against a magic beast and the man told him it would at least let him die with dignity. Claude didn't know how strong magic beasts were, but the spell had at least the same punching power as a musket.

The other downside was that he had to physically aim his shots with his hands, so if he was restrained, or attacked from behind, it would be of little use. He could guide the projectile somewhat, but the effect he could have on its trajectory in just ten metres was rather limited. It was still very adequate for a basic skill, however, and it would certainly be a nasty surprise for anyone that came at him.

Mental Shock was quite a surprise. Claude quite quickly changed his mind about the spell once he actually used it. It was actually more useful than Magic Missile. Claude thought a better name for it would be Stick Strike, since the poor bastard hit with it behaved exactly like when they were struck on the back of the head with a stick. It was a great way to surreptitiously incapacitate someone. Unfortunately Landes never used it besides for calming his charges during feeding time.

It was quite a challenge to find a subject for the spell, however. Magic Missile could be shot at any nearby object, but Mental Shock required an animal target, something bigger than an insect. He could use it on them, but he couldn't tell what exactly its effects were. And he couldn't shake the feeling of being a bully for using it on such small, inconsequential things.

It took him several hours to finally find a worthwhile subject. He found a small snake under a trunk, and immediately hit it with the spell. The poor thing dropped dead the moment the spell activated, however. He didn't quite realise what had happened at first, since the snake just stopped moving. It didn't convulse like snakes usually did when they were killed, so he didn't know it was dead. He left after staring at it for several minutes, but found it in exactly the same position when he came by again near sunset on his way home.

So Mental Shock's effect depended on the size of the target? Or was his spell just a lot more powerful than Landes'? He tried it on several other animals and finally pinned the variance down to target size. The spell turned out the spell was fatal on everything smaller than about a cat.

He used the spell on a squirrel first, but it fell on its head out of the tree, so he couldn't be sure if the spell or the fall had killed it. He discovered a cat just as he entered town and used the spell on it, and it collapsed. He only realised it might not be a stray after casting the spell, so he didn't go to check on it. He only learned it was dead when its owner picked it up and started crying. He had to fight back his guilt as he departed.

Shouldn't Landes have discovered that as well? He should have mentioned it! He scowled at the ceiling of his room as he tried to sleep. Then again, given how specific he was about making the spell to help him out with feeding the magic beasts, he probably never used it on anything else. Claude doubted he would really have omitted this if he'd known about it.

When the thought about it some more, he slapped himself on the face. Of course! If the spell had the same effect as striking someone on the back of the head, then, just as such a strike could, it, too, must have the potential to kill. If it struck everything with the same force, then it would of course kill a small animal, just like hitting a small animal just as hard as one might hit a human would kill it as well.

He scoured the town for small animals, pets, and livestock -- like chickens -- and lobbed them with his spell when no one was looking. Chickens and geese didn't die immediately, but they too kicked the bucket, eventually. Dogs were the smallest animals that survived his strikes, but they were usually literally scared shitless when they came to again.

Cows and horses survived without much issue, though one cow was frozen with its snout in the water and nearly drowned. One of the horses was struck mid stride, forgot to put its foot down, and collapsed. The people that saw the horse go stared at it with bewildered smiles while the owner rushed over to look at his prized horse.

Claude became progressively more desperate to lob a human with the spell, but he didn't know anyone he wanted to lob that was easy to get to. He didn't want to lob just anyone, after all.

The only downside to Mental Shock, really, was that he had to say a short, one syllable incantation. He'd tried casting it by just channelling mana through the formation, but it wouldn't activate until he uttered the incantation.

Claude concluded that Landes had to have a sick kind of humour, since he made the incantation 'bang'. He really didn't like the idea of randomly saying 'bang' in the streets to stun people or animals.

He headed to the farms and orchards to the southwest of town a few days later. The farms there were a little bigger than those directly south of town, and should thus have fewer feet and eyes. The boys had once again thinned the animals to the south, so he hoped there would be more prey southwest of town. Welikro did say, after all, that hunters generally didn't go there since the farmers there had more money and could make life troublesome for the hunters if they accidentally killed livestock or a family pet. As such prey should be far more plentiful.

He hoped to test his spells on a few larger pray. The jump from dog to cow was quite substantial, and he wanted something in between to better track how the effect scaled between the two extremes. Boars were ideal since he could test Mental Shock on them hopefully without killing them, but still take them out with Magic Missile if the spell didn't work as expected.

Chapter 86 - The Lady's Spell

Claude stood in front of a winding road. It looked like one made by a rich landowner rather than the local government. It was paved with large stone slates packed with mud; municipal roads were usually a kind of treated, hardened gravel, sand-like business.

The yellowed path, despite its winds, was quite flat and neatly kept. Claude didn't expect it to last long, however. The region's weather was harsh on stone, and the rain like acid -- it ate through stone in no time. If the road was frequently travelled, the metal-shoe'd, wooden wheels would wear it through just as quickly.

The kingdom forbade travel on private roads, but the three southwestern prefectures didn't enforce that particular law. They generally kept vehicles off private roads and paths, but travellers by foot weren't bothered. The worst that would happen to Claude was a quick interrogation as to his identity and motives.

He followed the road up the hill and back down the other side, then up the next hill and down its other side. He started up the third hill, when he heard a panicked cry just around the next corner.

"It's startled! Quick, after it! Damnit! The Madam is still in the coach! How are you even driving?!"

Claude stared down the stretch of road to find a majestic black horse dashing straight at him. A small coach danced behind it. Beyond that, two people came bumbling like crazed idiots. One looked like a butler and the other like a coachman.

The road was only three metres wide, enough for a coach to travel comfortably, but not for anything else to move or pass by it. It was slow enough to react to the small changes in the straight bit of road, but there was no way it would make the turn.

The horse was just ten metres from him by the time what was happening registered.

"Bang!" he shouted instinctively and the horse's eyes hazed.

The majestic animal was no run-of-the-mill market horse, however. While it calmed and lost some awareness, it didn't trip. It's stride continued confidently, if only in its capacity to keep it upright. It slowed to a trot, then a walk, and came to a full stop right in front of the boy. Claude took its reigns, and waited for the two servants to catch up.

He was ecstatic that he'd successfully used Mental Shock in his first crisis situation, but his ears and eyes remained alert. He filled up the triangle with his mana just in case, ready to cast Mental Shock again at the rustle of a leaf.

The coach door swung open and an elegant lady, no older than her early thirties, peeked out. Her hair was in miserable disarray, and her dress was crumpled up like old paper.

"It's fine, Madam," Claude said with a slight, polite bow. The lady had a shapely figure -- tall with the right curves in the right places. What little of her skin showed was silky smooth.

She wiped her hair out of her face and examined Claude closely. Claude gave another, quick bow, but froze halfway up at her greeting.

"Thank you for saving my life, young magus."

Claude blanked half as much as the horse. How could he be discovered so quickly?! It was all over now! But he'd not done even a tenth of what he'd dreamt of!

"S-Sorry?" Claude managed with a sincere air of confusion and only half-hidden panic.

The woman smiled. Her lips parted and another stream of daggers shot at him.

"Oh, you didn't hear? Surely that can't be so, Sir Magus? I mean, you are a magus, aren't you? That was a spell you used to stop the horse, after all. Oh, pardon my lack of manners, I haven't even asked my saviour's name yet!"

It was just the three of them. He could do it. He had to do it. He'll kill them and make it look like an accident, it very nearly was one, anyway. It wouldn't be murder, he would just have undid his saving of them. He was so far away from anything and everyone else, no one would realise he, an innocent 16-year-old kid was the one that did it.

Claude's mind was spinning. He didn't even hear her speak. His mind was wholly occupied with how to make it all go away. He couldn't just run away, his fall into magistry would bring his family down as well. He didn't really care what happened to his father and older brother, but his mother and younger siblings... He couldn't bear the thought of being the cause of their suffering.

"It's fine. Fate brought us together, so I just did my part. My parents taught me one should always help wherever one can. I am a nobody. You should not aggrieve your ears with my name. I hardly did much, anyway."

"Hehe, you're an interesting one. You're barely more than a little child but you already sound mature. Let me hear your name. I want to know which family produced such a talent."

The woman's smile was warm, but it quickly vanished when she saw the cold in his glances to her and her two servants.

"You intend to kill us?" the woman asked, her eyes glaring.

"What?" Claude tried to play dumb despite knowing his murderous intent was all too obvious in his eyes.

"Hahaha. Don't be so tense, young man. Relax. You probably haven't killed anyone before, right? You've not learned to hide your intentions yet. Your eyes shout it out for the whole world to hear. Stop and think a bit, will you? Tell me, how do you think I knew you used a spell? Normal people can't sense mana at all, you know."

"Wha-what?!" Claude stared at her, his jaw buried in the floor.

"Come, let's go to my home, I'll show you what I mean," the woman answered, that same warm smile back on her face.

It was Claude's turn to be weary. Was she luring him to her lair to kill or imprison him? Did she want to make him a slave, or her test subject? His mind raced for several long moments, then slowly, and reluctantly, calmed down. She was right, ordinary people couldn't sense mana at all, how could she so easily figure out he'd cast a spell if she wasn't a magus herself?

Ugh, that didn't make him feel too much better, either. Then again, he could at least still kill her later if she turned out to be playing him. His curiosity quickly overshadowed his weariness. He was infatuated with magic from the moment he got his hands on something magical, and it had only gotten worse as he slowly began setting his feet on the path of magic. How could he turn down the chance to interact with another magus?

"Alright. I will go along," Claude said firmly after another round of consideration.

The coachman and butler arrived amidst a gust of puffs and wheezes.

"Ma... Madam, are you... alright?"

The butler gasped between wheezes. The coachman quietly took the reigns from Claude and checked on the horse.

"I'm fine, Rodan," the lady answered regally and pointed at Claude, "This young man calmed the horse. You'd have had to come looking for me at the bottom of the hill, otherwise."

The two quickly bowed to Claude with profuse thanks and insisted he accompany them to the lady's manor. The butler refused to let the lady ride in the coach, however, and had them wait by the roadside while the coachman took it back and switched out the horse.

"You're a weird young man, carrying a musket even though you're a magus. Don't you know muskets are reviled things to magi? They're the devil's tools. We magi were chased off Freia because of those vile things!"

Her butler inspected Claude with slightly weary eyes at his lady's words.

"I know of no such taboo," Claude replied, "I've not heard of it. As far as I'm concerned, muskets are just useful tools, just like magic."

"Ohh..."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, biting off her words.

"Then why are you on my lands with that thing?" she asked instead.

"I'm only passing by. I'm heading deep into the hills to hunt wild boar."

"That's all my land though. You really are a brave little boy. Are you sure you can take on a boar alone with just that musket of yours?"

"Yes."

The woman turned to her butler, who followed behind the two.

"Rodan, are there really wild boars in the hills?"

The butler nodded.

"The Sioris have seen wild boars in the hills before, yes. We don't know where they came from. They've ruined most of our cassava harvest this year. We were going to hire a few hunters to take care of them, but then you started visiting more frequently and we decided not to bring in outsiders."

"I see," the lady nodded slightly, "We won't need hunters any longer. This young lad here can take care of that for us. Can't you, young lad?"

"I can, Madam."

The coach came trotting around the corner again. The coachman had switched out not just the horse, but the coach as well. The previous one had a small, violet-black cabin, with a silver rose pewter-crest on the doors.

It took the three to a unique manor hidden in the woods. The first thing he saw when they burst out of the thick canopy into the clearing that housed the manor, was a magnificent fountain. A large tea garden stretched out from the fountain in eight quadrants, bisected along one axis by the road leading up to the manor itself. It was bisected along the perpendicular axis by a carefully tended cobblestone creek.

"Come in," the woman said as she stepped through the front doors.

A bright light suddenly illuminated the room. When he followed the shadows to the light's source, he was shocked to see it was the woman's hand. A small sphere of light hovered above her petite palm, and when she gave it a soft blow, it rose into the air like a dandelion on a breeze.

Chapter 87 - Lady Maria

"What... what spell is this?" Claude asked as he stared at the ball of light now bumping against the ceiling. At this distance it looked just like a lightbulb. He didn't know how long it would last, but he desperately wanted it for his nightly studies.

"Luminous Pearl," the lady said, "It's just a light spell combining Illuminate and Glow. It was originally called Light's Cricket, but Stelling VI didn't like it and changed it to Luminous Pearl."

What? Stelling VI changed the name? But, didn't all the kingdoms hate magic? Weren't magi hunted villains? How on earth did an Auerean king have anything to do with magic? And she even made it sound like it was absolutely normal!

The lady laughed.

"Relax. I forgot we're in the southwest. It's a very rural corner of the kingdom so I should expect it to be behind the capital. That's why I didn't hesitate to call you a magus. Sorry, it seemed only natural to me."

"Is it okay to be a magus in the capital?" Claude asked.

The lady shook her head.

"No. Magic is forbidden throughout Aueras, just like everywhere else, but that's only the official stance. Every nation is constantly researching magic in secret. It's a massive weapon, so what makes you think people thirsting for power would just give it up? The problem was never the existence of magic itself, but that magi were the ones in control of the world. They're fine as long as they're servants, not masters. If you were discovered in the capital you'd be recruited in secret and taken to the secret organisation responsible for training magi."

"So learning is allowed?"

"Not publicly, of course. It's all hush-hush, you understand. You weren't wrong to want to kill us. The kingdom eliminates rogue practitioners."

"So I'm a rogue magus..." Claude mumbled, staring at the lady in disbelief, "So the kingdom wants to control magic, so they keep forbidding it in public and hunting down rogue magi. How do you know whether I'm a rogue magi or an evil magi from Siklos?"

The lady pointed at his musket.

"Evil magi despise muskets. They wouldn't touch one if it would save their lives, much less casually walk around with one. They believe the use of evil weapons is a betrayal of magic itself."

"May I ask two more questions? Are you a rogue magus or a member of that secret organisation? And how did you know I used a spell?"

"I'm not a rogue magus, but I'm not a part of the organisation either. I'm a registered third-party magus."

"A registered magus?"

"Not everyone joins the organisation -- not all of them can. Very few join, in fact, the organisation is very strict with whom it accepts."

"I see," Claude nodded in thought

So it was actually a competitive affair?

"Many magi live normal public lives like any other civilian, hiding their talents from the world. You have to be registered with the government, however. The kingdom gives them access to some spells and other information it has on magic, it would be a waste not to allow magic-talented individuals to develop that -- they can be quite useful in wars, after all -- but they have to be watched closely. Luminous Pearl is one of those harmless spells they let registered magi learn. I remember last Restoration Day, the king had magi cast 200 of these pearls on his palace."

Claude knew those people obviously had to be from noble families. He doubted the organisation would have approved of such a visible use of magic, but if the magi in question had a strong noble foundation, even that organisation, which could not take public action and admit its existence, could not exert much influence over them.

He doubted the nobles refrained from teaching their descendents magic, either. Nobles were always power hungry, and magic was an incredible tool with which to gain it in a world where it was no longer widely practiced. It was like being the only country to have a nuclear bomb. Only idiots wouldn't try to get their own. So of course noble families, probably right from the fall of the magi and the normal humans' rise to power, noble families secreted away tomes and manuals for study and learning.

"How long does it last?" Claude asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"About half an hour. It depends on your level, of course. I've heard it can go as long as two hours if you've powerful enough, but I've never seen it. Any other questions? I've not even heard your name yet..."

"I'm sorry, Madam. But you haven't told me how you found out about my spell."

"I just used Appraisal. Magic is like water, when you cast a spell, you're dropping a rock into the water. That makes ripples. Spells like Appraisal lets the caster see the ripples. Unlike ripples on water, however, the ripples of a spell remain for much longer, depending on the scale of the spell. Usually about an hour," the lady answered, her face questioning.

Claude bowed deeply. "Thank you. I am Claude Ferd, Madam."

"Claude Ferd..." the woman mumbled and her eyes widened suddenly, "Your father's Morssen Ferd, right?"

"Yes, I'm his second son."

"Aha, I've heard about you! I'm actually in Whitestag because of you!"

"Because of me? But I don't know you..."

"Let me introduce myself properly. I am Maria Fen Normanley. You can call me Baroness Normanley, or use my given name. I'm an apothecary."

"Milady, then," Claude said, scratching.

So he was right, she was a noble after all. He didn't expect her to be an apothecary, though.

"You don't seem convinced I'm an apothecary," the baroness said, displeasure in her voice.

"No, I just didn't expect a noble to be an apothecary, that's all. I've only seen sinister old men like the town's apothecary," Claude hurriedly explained.

"Oh, Niro? Well, he's only a beginner. I'm an intermediate."

Claude wondered how she knew him. He'd never heard of a baroness coming to town. Even old Claude's memories had nothing on her. How did she know both his father and the apothecary? And she appeared familiar with the town as well.

"Come, I'll show you my lab. I brought something for you. You'll know what I'm talking about once you see it."

Claude was surprised at how casual the baroness was. He had the impression that nobles were all anal about courtesy and procedure to enforce their status.

"Rodan."

The front doors opened to reveal the butler.

"Can I help you, Madam?"

Maria wove Claude along as she spoke.

"Some refreshments to my laboratory, please."

"Right away, Madam."

The butler closed the door behind him, strolled across the room with purpose, and disappeared through a small, unobtrusive door deeper into the building.

The laboratory wasn't in the manor itself. It was in a separate building behind the main manor, about twenty metres away.

"It's inconvenient, but much better than having foul smells stinking up the halls and rooms. I don't mind too much, since I'm always working in there when I come here -- though that's not often -- but my little sister and the rest of the family visit often and they don't like the smells."

The heavy-metal door swung open laboriously, and a large, niros crocodile confronted the two just beyond the brink. Claude's instincts told him to cast Magic Missile immediately, but he subdued the impulse when he saw how calm the baroness was. She didn't even look at it, sending another pearl into the room like it wasn't there at all.

It didn't move. It took Claude several seconds to realise it was a taxiderm. When he looked a little closer, something about the crocodile started feeling familiar. He walked around it once, and nodded. It was indeed the crocodile he'd killed. Had the baroness stolen it from Sir Fux?

"Why... why is it here?" Claude wondered aloud.

"Hehehe..." Maria giggled mischievously, "See? I wasn't lying. I was talking about this. I didn't believe the story of you four killing it when I first heard it. I didn't expect you would be one of the four. Your confidence in being able to hunt boar sounds less like arrogance now."

"I'm sorry for my bad manners..." Claude said.

The mount looked perfect. Sir Fux wasn't kidding when he said he was going to stuff it. He'd even had the eye fixed.

"I rushed back here when I heard a niros crocodile had been killed. It cost me 45 crowns, but I got it. You didn't expect that, huh?"

The baroness looked like a little girl waiting to be praised for her new toy.

Chapter 88 - I've been Learning Forbidden Spells?

Claude finally understood why nobody in Whitestag had heard of Baroness Maria; she was from the royal capital. And she had to be damn rich if she could pay 45 crowns for a mere crocodile.

The niros crocodile was a valuable resource, and worth quite a lot, but nowhere near what she'd paid for just the taxiderm. Damn that Sir Fux! He'd make an absolute killing! He paid just 4 crowns and sold it four ten times as much!

Claude couldn't quite understand why the baroness was willing to pay that much for it. Sure, it would be quite the attraction in the capital, but to be that frantic to get it? Come to think of it, how did she learn about it so quickly? The royal capital was weeks away by land, and while ships could shorten the trip considerably, they didn't come by often. She must have quite the informant network to learn about a single crocodile being killed and sole in such a small, remote town, so quickly. Either that, or the Normanley and Fux families had close ties.

Claude was reminded of the saying 'shrimp are eaten by small fish, which are eaten by large fish'. So Claude and his friends were shrimps, and the baroness was a large fish. Even worse, she could hide among the small fish until she struck.

"I didn't expect to see it here, no. Why would Milady rush here for a simple taxiderm? Do you want it for your display room back in the capital?" Claude asked.

"I don't do pointless displays," the baroness said, rolling her eyes, "I need its skin. You should at least know niros crocodile skin make great magic parchment, yes?"

Claude shook his head, but recalled just after that he had indeed read something to that effect somewhere.

Maria shook her head.

"Where on earth have you been learning magic? Nevermind. I think it's best I don't know. Still, you're supposed to be a magus, so how can you know absolutely nothing about the world?"

Claude was forced to concede his ignorance. At least the baroness appeared to be a straightforward person, she got to the point quickly and moved on just as fast. It had its downside, however. The less she said about something, the less Claude could learn about it from her.

"My apologies, Milady."

He supposed he could tell her a little more about him, his magic side, at least, after all. He quite liked her carefree nature.

"I came upon a rune magus' diary by accident and started learning magic out of idle curiosity. I killed the crocodile when I was just starting to learn meditation. I got it with my musket since I couldn't cast spells yet. I only became a true magus last month."

"Wait, you said rune magus, yes? Are you sure you have one's legacy?!" the baroness half-shouted suddenly.

Claude shook his head.

"I don't know if its a rune magus' legacy. The diary's writer said he was a rune magus, and he wrote notes on alchemical experiments and drew a few diagrammes, such as those about Hexagram Meditation and the formations for several spells. I've been training from the diary."

Claude decided he would make a reduced copy of the diaries. He spoke before he remembered that Landes was one of the 'evil magi'. That said, only diaries made of magic parchment would be used by magi, and only they would survive this long without proper care. Fake diaries written on normal paper wouldn't fly with the baroness, she was too sharp for that. But he had to have fakes to give her. She could make even Sir Fux sell the crocodile to her, so if she wanted the diaries, there was nothing he could do to stop her.

Maria smiled.

"You really don't know the first thing about the magi world, do you? A magus' legacy is supposed to be their dearest secret. No magus reveals their true legacies even when being registered. Do you really think we all know just the harmless spells the government allows us to learn?"

"You're the first magus I've met. I know nothing about the modern world of magic."

"I suppose that's to be expected given your age and situation. 'Rune magus' is one of the old titles from before the magi were chased off the continent. Back then there were only rune magi and battlemagi. The battlemagi and their legacies were all but wiped out by the war. Nowadays rune magi are called alchemists. They've been dedicated to researching ways to do the things spells can do without using magic. You should know about tap water and flush toilets, yes?"

Claude nodded.

"That used to be done with magic, but decades of research developed ways to do the same thing without using magic. Alchemists are responsible for the vast majority of the improvements to ordinary people's lives that have come about since the Great War. "

Claude forced his dumbfounded expression down.

Did they really have to rely on magic to do those things in the past? Well, he supposed it was much easier with magic, so there was never a reason to look for normal ways to do that, but that was just wasteful. And did the people of today really have to keep referring to the old magic way of doing things to figure out new inventions? There was so many things that could easily be done with just physics, which common sense should have told them how to do centuries ago!

"The magi took all the tomes and manuals that weren't destroyed in the war when they fled to Siklos. Most of what they didn't or couldn't take was burned by the angry mobs. Only a few things, mostly the beginner textbooks left at home by members of noble families who had studied magic, survived.

"People only realised how much they depended on magic once the magi were gone and their magic couldn't keep making the things everyone had taken for granted until then. The rulers immediately started gathering up and hoarding every bit of magic knowledge, every tome, manual, and item they could find, and started raising their own magi as best they could."

Claude finally understood why firearm technology had stood still for so long. The magi guarded their knowledge jealously, and all of it either went with them to Siklos, or was destroyed, and what little was preserved was hidden away in the sovereigns' vaults, rarely seen by anyone.

It also explained why he wasn't taught anything resembling physics and chemistry in school. Those kinds of things were closely associated with magic and was thus banned.

A hidden door in a dark corner of the laboratory opened and Rodan emerged from the darkness beyond carrying a tray with an intricate crystal tea-and-delicacy set.

"Come join me for tea," the baroness said, pointing at a table just beyond the crocodile.

Rodan put the tray on the table and pulled out a tray for the baroness, who took it gracefully, resting her heels on the crocodile's tail.

"Thank you," Claude said, taking the cup Rodan offered him once he was seated.

He didn't dare put his feet on the crocodile however. He couldn't pay 45 crowns if he damaged it, and he definitely wasn't going to try hunting for another one if that was what the baroness demanded.

"Don't worry, step on it as you please," the baroness said generously, apparently reading his mind.

Claude heard something click and saw the servant's door was closed and Rodan had vanished again.

The baroness took a petite sip from her cup, frowned slightly, and reached for a small silver tong.

"Rodan never adds enough sugar," she mumbled as she pinched a small yellow cube from a beautiful brass bowl and dropped it gracefully into her cup.

She stirred for a while until the sugar was resolved, then took another sip and smiled, closing her eyes to best savour the flavour.

"Much better. These are honey crystals. They dry honey until it forms crystals, then grind them into a powder which is pressed into these cubes after being steamed to make them sticky again. Normal honey is very sticky and it makes a big mess when you spill it. These--" She picked up a cube with the delicate tongs and shook it back and forth in front of Claude's face gently. "--These don't stick as much. Come, come, help yourself. You don't expect me to serve you, do you?" she teased.

"No, Milady, I can do it myself, thank you," Claude answered, his cheeks reddening slightly, "I'm okay with it as is."

The baroness chose a cookie from the plate and slipped it into her mouth.

"And some cookies for you well," she somehow said through closed lips, pushing the plate towards him, "I'll answer your questions as a thank you for saving me. I can't tell you everything, of course, but I won't hold back with what I can. Oh, what spells have you learned?"

"The diary's writer was a one-ring rune magus. He was from a family of fishermen, at least that's what he says in the diary. He recorded Magus' Hands, Eye of Appraisal, Fine Control, Decomposition, and Reconstruction. He didn't mention any other spells, so I'm still trying to find two more to fill up my hexagram..."

The spells were utterly common in his estimation, so he spoke about them quite casually, but his voice trailed off when he noticed the undisguised flabbergastment on the baroness' face.

"...Something wrong, Milady?"

"Don't ever tell anyone you learned these five spells, you hear?" she said suddenly, anxious.

Claude stared a question at her.

"The kingdom has forbidden those spells. Nobody may learn them. Even members of the secret organisation only rarely get permission."

"Why? They're just normal alchemical spells..."

"Stellin IV was assassinated by a magus using Magus' Hands. It's been a forbidden spell ever since."

Claude's back was suddenly wet. He'd thought he'd been quite ingenious to use the spell to do his chores, the thought that that very spell was used to kill someone, that he would have been executed had anyone discovered him using it, soaked his shirt.

Chapter 89 - Harmless Spells

"Madam, I can understand why Magus's Hands was banned, given its involvement in assassination, but why are Eye of Appraisal and Fine Control forbidden too? Those two should be harmless, right?"

"I don't know why Eye of Appraisal was forbidden either, but we registered magi are only allowed to learn the simplified version -- Appraisal. That is one of our basic spells. Normally, we use Appraisal to check whether an ingredient contains magical properties. In other words, we appraise an item to see if its magical or not. It can also be used to inspect traces of magic left behind after a spell is cast.

"Herbalists like me can also use Appraisal to check whether our concoction meets our standards. Sometimes, we can also use it to check whether there's poison in food. However, much training is needed to tell the difference.

"What you learned, Eye of Appraisal, is the more advanced version of Appraisal. It's probably far more effective and even though I don't know why it ended up as a forbidden spell, I'm sure some aspect of its effects was noted by the kingdom's Special Bureau to necessitate its ban. You'll have to test it out slowly to find out why."

Maria took a sip of tea and continued, "As for Fine Control, I only heard that it was forbidden, but I don't know whether that's true or not. It's said that during Stellin VII's 50th birthday, a few thieves broke into the palace during the grand banquet and some of them used Magus's Hands and shaped it into keys with Fine Control and managed to open seven treasury doors without startling any guards or alarm systems. They robbed the treasuries clean.

"Those thieves transported the treasure out of the subterranean waterways of the palace and swapped out the locks of the gates of the waterways with the same technique. That caused the guards that came to search to waste lots of time trying to open the gates with keys that no longer worked, allowing the thieves to escape for good.

"Stellin VII was so infuriated that he vomited blood and fell deeply sick. The heist at the palace caused a huge commotion and after traces of Magus's Hands and Fine Control were found, it was concluded that those spells were used in the theft. Stellin VII even gave the order to check apprehend every single registered magus in the capital for investigation and many people suffered from it. The royal family only released them after the nobles voiced their objections in solidarity."

Claude felt that he was listening to fairy tales. First, he learned that someone used Magus's Hands to kill a king. Then, some thieves shaped Magus's Hands into keys with Fine Control to rob the national treasury. Looks like there are smart people in this world after all. Even I didn't think those spells could be used like that.

"Then, what about Decomposition and Reconstruction? Those two are purely alchemical spells, so why were they forbidden?"

He was under the impression that those two spells were the weakest of them all as he had no way of using them ever since he learned them. If he had an alchemical formation array, they would no doubt prove to be useful. At the very least, he'd be able to concoct some low-grade alchemical potions. But without one, he couldn't do anything with them.

The issue was that Claude had no way of procuring the necessary materials for a formation. He couldn't afford them, nor did he have access to them.

"Those two spells have been forbidden since a long time ago," Maria said in deep thought, "I heard that before our kingdom was founded, the nobles around the continent were busy fighting against each other. One duke was deeply mesmerized in herbalism and alchemy and wanted to discover a way he could defeat his enemies without breaking a sweat.

"He spent most of the resources in his dominion to make a large alchemical formation array and forced his subjects to slave away to dig out poisonous plants. After that, he used Decomposition and Reconstruction again and again to run experiments nonstop with the intent of making a smog that he could release in the domains of his enemies to kill them off.

"In the end, he succeeded and managed to develop a pungent, yellow-green gas. Anyone that breathes it in would have a hard time breathing and vomit blood to death. The duke was satisfied with the results and believed that he had come up with a great weapon. At that time, an enemy was just about to invade his dominion, so he released the gas against his enemies and killed most of them off.

"After that, the duke used it for further conquest with the nobles that neighbored his dominion and none were able to stand in his way. Nobody could do anything against that gas but retreat, and they had to do so really quickly. That gas had a unique property in that it was denser than normal air and it required 12 hours to dissipate fully. The gas would 'roll' in the direction the wind was blowing and someone had to watch it dissipate from afar to make sure it was completely safe.

"What the duke didn't expect was for the gas to render the lands where it was deployed to be completely unarable. Soon, his dominion fell to a famine and the civilians in that dominion scrambled to escape it. The nobles in the surrounding area sealed off routes heading to that duke's castle and not a single trading convoy carrying food was allowed to cross. In the end, the duke no longer had any men to command and starved to death in his castle.

"The yellow-green gas was eventually called Devil's Breath. Ever since then, the nobles across the continent all banned Decomposition and Reconstruction and the various succeeding nations inherited that custom, forbidding registered magi from learning that spell. Naturally, the kingdoms' own alchemists were allowed to learn those two spells and they tried to recreate the gas for their own use. But their attempts all failed."

Claude didn't know what to say. The two spells were forbidden because they played a part in bringing forth a poisonous gas. The people in this world were full of ways of getting in trouble with the most harmless of spells.

"That's why, never tell people that you learned these five forbidden spells. Otherwise, Claude, I'm afraid that I'll only be able to see you in the dungeon of the kingdom's Special Bureau," concluded Maria.

"Madam, what's that department you mentioned called?"

"It's full name is Aureasian Public Bureau of Investigation and Special Security. Normally people just shorten it to the Special Bureau. Nobody bothers to call it its full name."

"Then what other spells are forbidden by the Special Bureau?"

"Many more. Basically, any combat spell is forbidden. But there are some defensive ones that passed their tests and are deemed harmless, so registered magi are allowed to practice them. One such spell is Barrier."

Maria chanted a few words and caused a white glow to appear around her body. It looked like a spherical and transparent bubble that enveloped her within. What surprised Claude was that the bubble proceeded to conform to Maria's form. As she was seated on a chair, the bubble enveloped her figure, sandwiched perfectly between her and the chair without moving her in the slightest.

Claude poked the bubble with his finger and found to his surprise that it was elastic to some degree.

"What barrier is this?" asked Claude.

Maria waved her hand and dissipated the bubble.

"It's Air Barrier, the most useless kind of defensive spell. Apart from isolating temperatures inside and outside the bubble, it's completely useless against other kinds of damage. We think that it's only useful for keeping us alive during fires. However, it won't last long for that purpose either, only five minutes and we'll be burned to death all the same."

"So this wind barrier doesn't work against physical attacks at all? I realized that it had some degree of elasticity to it."

"It's pointless. One swing of a stick and it'll shatter. It's all bark and no bite. Now, you understand, right? The kingdom's Special Bureau only allows registered magi to learn these harmless and inconsequential spells."

"Then, forgive me for asking this, but can you tell me the basic spells you learned?" asked Claude gingerly.

Maria laughed. "Naturally. The seven I know are all harmless spells permitted by the Special Bureau. If you go to the capital to the spell shop set up by the bureau, you can spend ten gold krons to buy a runic formation diagram of those spells. Naturally, you'd have to be a registered magus to be allowed to purchase them."

There are spell shops as well? Isn't ten krons for a harmless spell a little too expensive?

"You've already seen Luminous Pearl and experienced Air Barrier for yourself. Though, you can't see the effects of Appraisal." Maria poured some water into an emptied saucer and tapped one finger into it. "The fourth spell is Chill. It allows me to freeze water into ice in a short time and make cool drinks during summer."

The water within the saucer soon lost its heat and turned cold quickly. Claud watched as the tea froze into ice. "Madam, isn't this Freeze?"

Maria smiled bitterly and retracted her finger. "Do you think the kingdom will let us learn Freeze? That's also a forbidden spell to them. Chill can only be used to make a little bit of ice, so it's considered harmless because all we can do with it is make cold drinks."

Claude was completely dumbfounded.

"The fifth spell is Submerged Breathing. As I almost drowned when I was young and even had nightmares about drownings, I picked Submerged Breathing as one of my seven basic spells. I won't have to worry about drowning for ten whole minutes with it.

"My sixth basic spell is Hydrogenesis. It allows me to create water out of thin air." The lady put the empty teacup on the table and stretched her hand above it to draw some circles in the air. Claude watched as a drop of water formed in the circle she drew, followed by another. Soon, rain seemed to fall out of thin air into the cup and fill half of it with clear water.

Maria waved to dispel it. "Hydrogenesis cost more mana than the rest and I can use it seven times per day at most to get seven cups of clean water. This is a more practical basic spell since I can use it to create pure water for my experiments and concoctions. I wouldn't have to worry about having no water to drink on a long journey either.

"Many registered magi in the capital believe that Hydrogenesis is a simplified version of Waterball or Rainstorm and spent lots of effort to research it in hopes of restoring the simplified runic formation into more advanced ones. But every one of them failed."

Maria picked the cup up and drank from it. "This water does taste great though. Where was I? Oh, my last basic spell. It's this.

Maria put down her cup and snapped in the air. Claude saw a small fire burning at her fingertips.

"This is Enkindle. It was debated for a long time before it was categorized as a harmless spell. Stellin V said that since anyone could use all sorts of methods to set things on fire, there was no harm in allowing magi to learn Enkindle for convenience instead of having them search for tools like common folk to set things alight.

"It was his statement that allowed Enkindle to be classified as a harmless spell. I learned it because of how practical it is. Those are my basic spells and they can't even be compared to yours," lamented Maria.

Chapter 90 - Black Magic Market

Claude was quite impressed by Maria's spells, if for no other reason than her judgement in picking them. Luminous Pearl was an excellent light source. The pearls weren't as bright as lightbulbs, but they outclassed candles and lamps several times over. And the fact that they used mana instead of material as their fuel source made them much more convenient.

Appraisal wasn't worth considering since he already had a superior version of the spell. Air Barrier had its merits, despite what Maria might believe. She hadn't been in a scruff like he had, nor did she have to be out in the wild much at all, so she didn't understand how vital a couple of minutes of protection against the elements were.

As for Chill, he had access to the diagram for Freeze's formation. He could only engrave it in his next hexagram since it was too complex for his first one, and still too much for him to use with a temporary engraving at his current level, however. Landes didn't tell him what could be done with the spell beyond its use in experiments however, so he didn't know the full extent of its use. Go figure, as far as Landes was concerned the only things in the world were his experiments…

Despite the limit of its scope, Claude didn't think Chill was as harmless as the Watch thought. With a proper mould, he could freeze water into a small dagger or knife, one which would melt away after he used it, leaving no trace of who made it or used it.

Breath of Water was just as useful as Air Barrier. Even if it was just for ten minutes, being able to breathe underwater opened up all sorts of possibilities. Hydrogenesis was a very simple spell in contrast. Claude suspected it condensed moisture in the air into liquid water, and he suspected the amount of moisture in the air was what limited how much could be drawn out.

Kindle was basically a personal firelighter.

Apart from Appraisal, he wanted to learn all of Maria's spells. He probably wouldn't engrave Chill into his second hexagram, but it was a useful stop-gap until he could use Freeze. Even if he didn't use them, just having them in his repertoire would be a massive improvement. Claude wasn't registered, so he couldn't buy the spells, and, even if he could, he didn't have the money.

He could only beg Maria to teach him. If she wanted, he was more than willing to trade the five spells about which he'd told her for them. If she didn't want them because they were forbidden, he could always offer her his 30 remaining shaliuns. The spells were worth far more to him than coins he couldn't even use.

"Would you be willing to teach me the spells? I'll teach you the five I know in trade," Claude offered sincerely.

"Why would you learn such useless spells? You even want to exchange your spells for them?!"

The baroness stared at him incredulously or a long moment, then burst out laughing.

Claude's stoic expression broke.

"Please don't laugh at me like that..."

Maria gasped for breath and had to fight for control of her lungs for several moments.

"I... wasn't mocking you... Pffft--" Her hands covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. "If I didn't believe you were a rookie before, I believe it now. You really don't even know the basics! I won't lie to you, I desperately want to learn those spells, but I can't afford them. You don't have the foggiest clue how much they are worth, " her face sombred as she spoke.

"What do you mean? You can just trade your spells for mine!" Claude said, somewhat anxious.

If she could pay 45 gold crowns for a crocodile, surely she could afford a few basic spells!

"You don't know how valuable your spells are," the baroness said sternly, "My spells are about ten crowns each. Your spells are not just far stronger, they're also forbidden, which makes them almost priceless on the magic black market.

"Take Magus' Hands as an example. You could easily sell it for 200 crowns. Of the other four, only Eye of Appraisal might be as cheap. Fine control, Decomposition, and Reconstruction can each sell for 250 easily. I can't afford them even if I sell all my jewellery."

What? Those common spells were worth that much? Then what about all the other spells Landes had noted down?

"I'm willing to trade them with you for your spells…" he continued pleadingly, but the baroness shook her head.

"I can't take advantage of you like that. I couldn't trade all seven of mine for just one of your spells."

"I insist," Claude pleaded again, "You can pick any one of my spells. You can chalk the difference up to my gratitude for your answers to my questions."

Maria stared at him for a long time, but saw nothing but sincerity, and finally nodded, a light smile on her lips.

"Alright. I'd like to learn Eye of Appraisal. The other four supplement one another and only really work at their best when used together. Eye of Appraisal is directly related to my Appraisal, and I might even be able to engrave it over Appraisal's formation."

The exchange was far more mundane than Claude had let his imagination conjure. The two parties simply drew the formations on pieces of paper along with a few notes and explanations, and exchanged them. Each side merely had to engrave the formation in their void space to check its authenticity, so there was no point in trying to swindle each other.

Maria drew eight diagrams. The extra one was Summoned Breeze, and, like its name suggested, it called forth a gentle breeze for a couple of minutes.

"That should leave only a 20 percent discount," the baroness said as she handed her sheets to Claude and took his.

"Could you tell me more about the magic black market, Milady?" Claude asked after pocketing the sheets.

"It's your typical black market, except it deals in stuff related to magic. Most of the people that use it are rogue magi like you. I've heard a couple of rumours that say the Siklos magi are running it from the shadows, but no one really knows. The kingdoms have tried to close it down countless times over the centuries, but it just vanishes like mist in the sun and reappears somewhere else a few months later. You won't get in without a guarantor from the inside."

"What do they exchange? Money, or magic materials?"

"Both, but they don't use normal coins. They use shaliuns--" The baroness took out a gold coin and plopped it on the table gently. "--These can only be made by magi. They don't wear over time; they always look like they are newly minted. You'll see a soft golden halo if you use Appraisal on it. Each is worth about 20 crowns, though the banks only give you two."

Wait, he had thirty shaliuns… that made him filthy stinking rich! But even more exciting, was the fact that he now had a way to get the materials he needed for an array.

"Could you be my guarantor?" Claude half-whispered.

"What? You want to auction off your spells?" Maria asked, a teasing smile creeping onto her face.

"No, I just want to expand my horizons," Claude answered just a little too quickly.

"Don't sell off your spells. You can't guarantee your safety if you put such valuable things out there. The kinds of people whose attention you'll attract can find you no matter where or how well you hide, and they won't be interested in paying for your spells. Not to mention the Watch won't miss such a high profile sale in their territory. They'll be on you faster than a maggot on a corpse."

"Thank you for the reminder, Milady. I really only want to find more spells. I only have five, and I don't have any more with me, so I need to look elsewhere for more. I'm hoping to find two combat spells to fill the remaining spots in my hexagram."

The baroness considered his words for a while, then shook her head.

"It won't be easy. Combat spells are very rare, even on the magic black market. And when they do, they're damn expensive, you won't have the money for them, unless you trade in your five spells, but then you're back to that issue we just discussed.

"And then there's the matter of the magic black market being in the royal capital. I'll take you for a tour if you ever come to the capital, but I doubt you'll find any useful spells. "

"Could I ask you to keep an eye out for anything when you go back, Milady? I'll trade you the other four spells if you can find any," Claude begged.

"Only if it's not too much trouble for me--" Maria put down her now-empty cup and stood up. "--Tea time's over. Come, let me show you my lab."

Chapter 91 - Claude's Request

They were in a room about 20 metres square with three double windows. It was clean, especially its white walls and grey flooring. A large, white, wooden table of impeccably sturdy build sat in the middle of the room, taking up about a third of its total floorspace. Various glass apparati buried it. Had Maria not been by his side, Claude would've thought he was in a chemistry lab from his previous life.

A black wooden cupboard overflowing with herbs covered the wall to the right. Several hundred small bottles -- each containing a different, labelled herb -- filled it. The other end of the room had a two-metre water tub. A small bronze tap burst out of the wall at one end of it.

"Your lab, Milady?" Claude asked.

"A part. I use this place mainly to make healing concoctions. Experiments here are rare. I have a different room for that. It has a basic array. Let me show you."

Maria strode across the room proudly and opened a delicate wooden door on the opposing wall. Claude followed.

Beyond it was a similar room, though far messier, and the table in the middle wasn't buried beneath glassware, most of it was bronze or iron instead. Metal and wooden machinery crowded the room, a couple pieces big enough to count as furniture in their own right.

"Herbal medicine was first practiced by magi. The original concoctions were made using alchemy. Commoners didn't get to use such 'noble' potions. This apparently only changed because the continent was hit by a severe plague. The magi couldn't keep up with the demand for medicine, and too many people were dying for them to keep civilisation going with those they could save on their own, so they finally taught commoners how to make their medicines.

"The continent's ruling nobility has gone to excruciating pains to wipe out this information. They can't have such an essential field to be known to be the result of the work of the evil magi. Healing spells can achieve the same results as herbal concoctions, elixirs, and ointments, however, so magi were never really interested in the discipline since it was mostly only of use to those that couldn't use magic in, and were thus worthless in the first place.

"That said, we should deeply respect the apothecaries who have, despite their inability to use magic, tried to understand the natural world and experimented with herbs to try and develop treatments for all the ailments of common men. Their concoctions never matched what magi could make, but their concoctions were made using the knowledge they'd earned through hard work and perseverance, and allowed common men to heal themselves..."

Maria's introduction continued for another ten or so minutes before she finally turned her attention to the room itself.

"This is the most advanced laboratory in the entire kingdom," she said finally, then pointed at a small array carved into the table in the middle of the room, "This is the array I mentioned," she said.

She took pride in the fact that she was a mid-ranked apothecary, and even more so in the tools of her trade. She dragged Claude around the room for nearly an hour, carefully introducing him to each and every article in it.

"This is a centrifuge," she introduced yet another piece of machinery, "You put a mixture in here, then spin this lever here, which causes the tubes inside the spin. The bigger heavier bits end up in the bottom. This--" she pointed at another piece of machinery, "--is a mortar. You can powder minerals or crystals in it, or ground up plant bits, like leaves, into paste. This is an evaporator. You pour the liquid mixture in here, then light a small fire beneath. This is a pipette..." her voice picked up pitch and her words speed again.

Claude stared, more at the woman introducing her tools, than at her tools themselves. Steam power didn't exist, so all the machines were hand operated. A few instances of water power being used, though they exceedingly rare. The technology was used almost exclusively for grinding corn into powder.

"Open the window and look outside. You'll see," Maria giggled.

This room, unlike the previous one, had only one window. It sat on the right wall, but was covered by paper, stuck to the pane like a papier mache. Claude fondled the window for several moments until he found the latch, undid it, and opened it. Outside, a large water wheel sat in mid-air. Normal wheels were anchored on the bank of a river, the bottom of the wheel submerged in the water where the stream could shove it into motion and keep it there. This one, however, dangled in mid-air and its skoops looked more like buckets than the paddles of normal wheels.

The sight baffled Claude for several moments until he noticed a large copper pipe which ended right above the wheel's apex. It stuck to the building like a vine, and Claude's eyes followed it to the roof, where he was the edge of what had to be a giant reservoir.

"Incredible. Who designed it?" Claude gaped.

Maria grinned so broadly her teeth showed.

"I did. I have an almost identical lab back in the capital. We used to run donkeys, but we'd need someone to keep an eye on them, and that's an eye I don't need around while I'm doing my experiments. Not to mention that we need a consistent turn rate for the finer experiments, so if a donkey slows down or speeds up I lose an experiment. I was sitting next to a river outside of the city one day, brooding over losing one of those experiments, when I noticed a mill on the opposite bank, and how consistently it kept turning due to the current. I wondered why we couldn't just do the same for our pole. We don't have a river obviously, so I decided to put a tank on the roof and have the water run down a pipe to the wheel. We can put the donkeys on a screw to pump water up to the roof, that doesn't have to be as consistent, and they can do that while I'm not doing an experiment, so no prying eyes at inconvenient times."

"You're too clever, Milady. No wonder you're a mid-ranked apothecary," Claude praised.

"Oh psshh!" Maria waved, her cheeks a tender pink, "I'm nothing compared to the real bigshots. They are the ones who came up with all this--" Her hand swung in an all-encompassing wave. "--from scratch."

"This may be inappropriate, Milady, but would you teach me herbal medicine?" Claude begged.

"You want to become an apothecary?"

"Yes."

Her eyes became absent in though for a few moments, then she shook her head.

"I'm sorry. It's not that I don't want to teach you, but I'm leaving in a fortnight, so I won't be here to. Not to mention you have school--"

"--I can study the material on my own, Milady," Claude squirted, "I'm graduating in two months. I'll have the time. Even now, I don't even really have to attend classes since I already know everything they're teaching. I'm not asking you to tutor me one-on-one. If you can just give me the material and answer an occasional question, that would already be more than enough!"

"Hmm..." Maria stared at him for several long moments, then turned around. "...Follow me."

Claude did so and the two returned to niros crocodile.

Maria stopped in front of one of the ceiling-tall shelves.

"This is my section on herbs and herbal medicine. You can come and read them while I'm still here. I'll give you a test the day before I leave. If you can't pass it, you have to give up, understood?"

"So many books... I can read any of them?"

The prospect of having to study what had to be nearly a thousand books didn't daunt him in the slightest. If anything, it was heaven. Few things were more enjoyable than reading.

"You like to read, too?" Maria asked, her eyes warming a little more as they gazed at the boy.

Few people, even among the nobility, had discovered the joy of reading. For most it was a chore, for many yet a punishment to be avoided at all costs. She'd proposed it to scare him off, instead it seemed she'd given him a bag full of candies.

"Yes. My father has about a hundred books in his study, and I've read through all of them at least once, a number of them several times. It's always a struggle to find a good book in town as well."

"Most of these were bought in the royal capital. It's my personal collection. Most deal with herbs and herbal medicine, though. I only have a couple on other stuff. You can come visit as often as you like," Maria smiled in a conspiratorial fashion.

"Thank you, Milady. Can I pick out a few now?"

"If you wish. I'll get us some more tea."

Rodan materialised by the doorway. He snuck a glance at Claude while he waited for his mistress to give him permission to speak.

"The boars are here, Madam."

"Oh. Let's go have a look," Maria said.

Claude sighed, his hand just pulling a book off the shelf. He pushed it back unwillingly, and turned to follow them. The trio walked for about five minutes, just over the hilltop to its reverse slope, then saw the singular of boars.

"Should we hire a few hunters after all, Milady?" Rodan asked again.

"I'll take care of it," Claude said again.

Chapter 92 - Hunting Wild Boars

Claude snuck up the hill. A few boars noticed his approach, but none minded him. He stopped about a hundred meters from the singular. He heard Welikro describe their behaviour again; it was best to not approach them when they were foraging. They were most aggressive then.

A hundred metres was the closest he could get without triggering a response from the boars. It was far enough that, although they were likely to notice him, he would only be worth keeping an eye on; but it was close enough for him to shoot at them. He loaded the musket, lay down behind a dead trunk -- steadying the musket on it like a stand -- and pressed his cheek against the butt, one eye peering down through his sights. His muzzle came to rest on one of the smaller boars' head, which he could just barely make out at this range. The ideal target would have been the largest boar in the singular, with its death there would be no leader to rally the singular, but at this range he couldn't be guaranteed a kill-shot through a skull that thick.

Maria and Rodan observed Claude from the clearing on the hill's crest.

"Can he really hit them from there, Madam? He's only a kid," Rodan asked, worried, "I still think we should hire a couple hunters. I heard from one of the guards that one always had to have an escape route ready before shooting on boars. They almost always charge after being attacked, so one had to be ready to scamper up a tree or a boulder. I didn't see him scout out a hiding place. He's just hidden in a few shrubs. He'll be dead if he doesn't kill the leader before they get to him."

"Give him a chance, Rodan," Maria sighed, somewhat at a loss with her butler, "He's young, but he's killed a niros crocodile. A few boars won't be a problem. Besides, you know he's a rogue. Don't think he's revealed all the tricks he has up his sleeve. He's bound to still have a few we don't know about. I'll bet you money one of them will let him deal with a boar charge."

A white puff of smoke suddenly hid Claude and a small boar in the middle of the singular dropped. The crisp crack washed over the two a moment later.

Gotcha! Claude shouted silently.

He yanked a cartridge out of his pouch, bit open one end, and poured the long distance mix down the barrel. The cartridge followed, then a round from his other pouch, and finally the ramrod. He opened his powder horn and primed the flash pan. He checked the slow match was still smouldering, it was, and he pulled back the cock.

He heard two sets of four hooves charging at him all the while. When he raised his head, his musket ready to fire again, he saw the two. The two largest boars in the singular, the two which had noticed him before he shot, were just about ten metres from him. Had the ground between them been open, they would have long since struck, but Claude had carefully picked a spot that put a lot of uneven ground, broken up by thick underbrush, tree trunks, and boulders between him and the singular. It slowed them down just enough to give him a chance to fire again.

"It's over..." Rodan sighed at the sight.

The boy had surprised him with how fast he reloaded, but it didn't matter. He had one shot, and two boars charging at him. He doubted the boy would hit with the shot in such a frantic situation, but even if he did -- and killed one with it -- he would still be hit by the other, and it wouldn't give him time to reload.

Maria didn't speak. She stared at the boy intently. None of the three noticed how tightly her hands were clasped in front of her chest. The only glimpse of hope she had was that the boy didn't seem anxious at all. He acted like the two weren't charging at him at all.

Claude watched the two charging at him calmly. He didn't even really have to shoot them at all. He could just shout 'bang' twice and the two would suddenly become docile pets. He could shoot them one by one while stroking them even, or hit them with Magic Missile. Maria and Rodan were watching, however. He'd told Maria he only knew alchemical spells. She knew he'd used a spell to calm the horse down in the carriage, but she'd not seen him use it, so she didn't know what spell it was. He could explain it away as Magus' Hands, but that wouldn't work if she saw him using a different spell now.

His impression of her was stellar, she was carefree and straightforward, he hadn't picked up any hidden intents from her, and she'd gone out of her way to treat him with absolute fairness, but the saying 'hold not the intent to harm others, but forget not the need to remain vigilant', didn't exist for no reason. Some secrets had to be kept, even from close friends and family.

The two boars were now just five metres from him. Claude didn't fire, however. He just continued to stare down his barrel. The two closed to about three metres at full charge, then suddenly collapsed. They tumbled head over heels twice and came to a rest in front of him. He placed the gun right between one's eyes, and his musket billowed smoke.

The other boar snapped out of its stupor, scrambled to its feet and started charging in a random direction away from the puff of white smoke. It made it two metres away before it collapsed again, like something had pinned it to the ground. Claude was on his feet, facing the second boar calmly, his arms dangling loosely by his sides.

His spectators watched, mouths agape, as his musket floated into the air, a cartridge tore open in mid air, gunpowder poured down the barrel, followed by the paper of the cartridge, the bullet, and the ramrod. The musket rolled to one side as his horn, also floating in mid air, primed the flash pan, and the cock clicked into firing position. The musket took up its position in front of his face, he closed one eye, and a puff of smoke hid both him and the boar.

The shot cracked, and when the smoke cleared the boar was dead on the ground. The rest of the singular had vanished before the two big boars had even reached Claude, and the entire valley between the hills was now quiet -- dead silent, in fact.

Claude's musket lowered to the ground gently, and his arms moved again, wiping sweat from his forehead. He took a few deep breaths, then waved at his audience.

Maria lifted her skirt and ran down to him, her face positively glowing. Rodan rushed after her, reminding her of her dignity all the way, but she didn't even hear him. Rodan gave up after about twenty metres and turned around to head back to the manor and call someone to come get the boars.

"How... did you... do it?" she half shouted between gasps, "I... was worried... when they... charged..."

Claude wiped sweat off his forehead again, smiling.

"Magus' Hands, Milady. I stopped your horse with it as well."

He'd experimented quite a lot with his spells since learning them, and he knew his manifestations were far stronger than his own arms. How strong, however, he didn't know. He so wished he had a way to measure it. Broadly, however, he had settled on the idea that they were about ten times stronger than his own arms. It wasn't an incredible strength, but it certainly was enough to yank the two boars' feet out from under them and pin them to the ground.

He'd actually thought he was too late when he finally struck them. He'd still been fretting over how to handle with the situation when the two crossed into his five-metre range. Luckily, he'd been struck by inspiration when they were about three and a half metres from him and he'd immediately cast Magus' Hands.

Despite how calm he'd been in the moment, his hands were shaking now he had time to think about what could have, would have, happened if he'd been just a moment slower, or if it hadn't worked.

The myriad of possibilities of how the situation could have played out flashed through his mind, and he scolded himself. He shouldn't have reloaded the gun at all. He shouldn't even have yanked the two boars' feet out from under them. Couldn't he create blades or spears from his manifestations using Fine Control? He should have just stabbed the two in their hearts and have been done with it!

"They're huge..." Maria murmured. "I've never seen one up close."

The baroness stepped on one of the carcasses, rocking it back and forth a few times.

"Don't tell me you've never had wild boar before?"

"I have, but they've always come to the table already cut up. I've never seen an intact one before. I've caught a few glances of them from a distance, but never from up close like this. Is this one sick?--" She pointed at the smaller of the two. "--It's skin is covered in calluses and scars."

Claude smiled, shaking his head.

"No. The scars are probably from fights -- they do that all the time -- but what looks like calluses to you is just dried mud. They love to roll around in the mud after all. The coating keeps flies and mosquitoes off them."

"Oh... I haven't read anything about that..." Maria murmured thoughtfully again, "It should weigh about 300 catties, yet? The other one looks a little smaller, maybe 250? And there's the smallest one, too--" Her eyes glanced further down the slope where the dust of the scattering singular was still clearing. "--What do you want to do with them?"

"Normanley Wood belongs to you, Milady, so anything hunted on it also belongs to you. It's up to you."

Such were the kingdom's laws. Any product gained from the land belonging to a noble belonged to said noble unless otherwise agreed. Anything someone foraged, found, or hunted on a noble's land thus automatically belonged to the noble. If someone found a diamond or gold, that belonged to the noble. If someone killed a bear in self-defence, that belonged to the noble. If someone foraged a rare herb, that belonged to the noble, too.

"I don't need them!" Maria blurted, waving her hands frantically, "Didn't you say you came specifically to hunt boar? Just take them with you."

"Nonsense. I'll take the small one at most," Claude insisted.

It wasn't so much that he didn't want to take all three, but he didn't want another uproar his return with three dead boars, especially the two big ones, would cause in town again.

Rodan returned a with the coachman, and a man and a woman in their fifties.

Maria accepted that Claude would only take one, but insisted it be the biggest in that case. Claude had little choice but to accept. The baroness gave the second largest one to the couple, and had the smallest sent to her pantry.

Chapter 93 - Magic Tomes and Scrolls

The coach waggled along noisily.

Claude and Maria sat facing one another inside. Claude stared at the baroness, his head aching.

"Is this appropriate, Milady? You're a noble. My father ought to be the one coming to see you, not the other way around--"

"Nonsense!" Maria giggled, "I find such things irksome. I wish to meet your father, so that's what I'll do. I have something I wish to discuss with him as well, and the sooner the better."

The group had dragged the three carcasses over the hill with some difficulty. But when it came time to butcher them, Claude realised no one could. Wien, the coachman, fainted at the sight of blood. He'd done so the moment he saw the two big boars, blood still trickling out of the holes in their heads, and had to be carried back before the other four dealt with the boars. Rodan didn't even know how to hold a butcher's knife, nevermind how to cut up a carcass and Siori's wife, Lancy was no better. Siori, the only one left, had deformed hands from an accident while he was being trained as a soldier during the last war and he couldn't handle knives anymore.

As a result, Claude had to spend his afternoon butchering the three boars. The four spectators watched, mouths agape yet again, from the side. Claude was most surprised that Maria didn't twitch at all. He expected Lancy to have a somewhat decent stomach, since, as the one responsible for the cooking between her and her husband, she no doubt dealt with raw meat regularly, and possibly even butchered small animals like hares.

The sun was already heading to bed when he finished, so he asked if Wien could take him and his boar home on one of their carriages. Wien brought a coach instead, and he found Maria already inside, waiting for him.

"What do you wish to discuss with my father, Milady?" Claude asked.

"I want to hire you as a guard. The wood could do with a regular visit from you," the baroness answered in the kind of it's-already-decided attitude Claude had learned to expect from nobility from several movies in his previous life.

"Are you certain?" Claude asked nevertheless.

"Of course. Just look at Siori and his wife. He's cripple, and his wife is too old to take care of the wood. She can still handle the farm work, but she can't deal with boars. I'm not here all the time to look after things, either. You can clearly handle yourself though, so I won't have to worry about the place if I put you in charge of keeping it clear. It'll be the perfect excuse for you to come visit regularly."

Claude smiled bitterly.

"I am graduating in two months, Milady. Is now really the right time to hire me?"

"Fine, since we're so well-acquainted now, I'll tell you why I really want to hire you. You see, I need your help with something. It's nothing substantial. You'll just need to take a week or so off from school."

"What do you need, Milady?"

"I want to process the niros crocodile into parchment for tomes or scrolls before I return to the capital. I don't think I'll be able to keep my hands on it if I take it back as is, but I don't have the skills to process it, nor do I know someone who does... besides you, that is."

Claude's eyes glowed.

"What are tomes for, Milady? I thought they were just ancient, magical books."

Maria fought back a giggle, though not entirely successfully, for a few seconds, then burst into an exuberant fit of outright laughter.

"Sorry. I forgot you're a rookie. There are many different kinds of tomes. 'Tome' refers to any book written on magic parchment, including those diaries of yours. They're usually only written on the lowest grade of parchment, though. Those sheets usually only have the quality of being able to last much longer than normal parchment. Niros crocodile parchment is of a far higher grade. They're used for inscribing formations. Speaking of which, have you heard of unitisation theory? It predicts that mana can be split into discrete units of a particular size, and that the mana spells consume always corresponds to a volume that can be perfectly measured in those units. Kind of like how a beach is always made up of a whole number of grains of sand, and never has any grain fractions. A jar, too, will always be filled with a specific whole number of grains -- 3 045, for example -- never a fraction -- like 3 045 and 3/4."

Didn't Landes mention something similar in his diaries? Claude thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Well, magi aren't limited to the seven spells they can engrave in their hexagram. They can cast other spells, but those cost more mana. That means they can only cast any spell so many times, and they can't cast spells that use more mana than they can store. There is a way around this, however. Magic parchment contains mana and the formation drawn on it consumes that instead of the magus' mana to cast the corresponding spell, unless the spell required more mana than the parchment has, in that case the magus just has to cover the deficit. This allows magi to cast spells they otherwise can't. And since the formation is also already drawn on the parchment magi don't have to learn the spell beforehand.

"The stronger spells that consume all the mana in a parchment, destroy the parchment when cast, but spells that don't use all the mana can be used multiple times, the magus just has to replenish the parchment's mana between casts. Even so, however, the parchment is only good for so many casts. It can only withstand so many replenishments and uses before it crumples.

"Single sheets of parchment are called spell scrolls, or just scrolls. But many sheets can also be bound together into a tome. This had a number of advantages over scrolls. Though they're more unwieldy, the binding strengthens the parchment. Formations in the cover of the tome stores more mana, which can be used when casting from one of the pages inside, reducing the strain on the individual page, so it lasts longer. Some of the highest grade tomes even contain recovery formations that restore damaged pages so they can be used indefinitely. There's also the fact that tomes contain many different spells. The quality of the binding and cover limit how many, though, and most can only take 24.

"Any magus worth his salt will own at least two tomes and have at least one with him at all times. Scrolls haven't been entirely replaced, however. A famous magus developed a new formation about four hundred years ago that allow even people with no sense of magic at all to cast spells from scrolls. They have to destroy the parchment to do so, usually by tearing it up, so it can only be used once, however.

"The animals from which tomes are made are mostly extinct now, however, and the knowledge of how to make the highest grade tomes was lost with the fall of the magi, so they're a rare sight nowadays. I rushed over to get the niros crocodile because it's one of only three beasts left that can produce parchment. Red-eyed apes from the highlands in the far west of Freia, and bloodback wolf from the southernmost parts of the continent are the other two.

"Parchment made from niros crocodile skin can only be used for the simplest of spells. Well, you can technically inscribe more powerful spells, but it'll crumple after the first use and nobody would waste such a rare material to make a single use only item anymore.

"Magi today will literally duel each other to the death for an intact specimen like this. Luckily I found it first. If the Watch learned of this first, or if they get here before I finish making parchment and engraving spells, they won't leave anything for me.

"That's why I need your help. I could take it with me to the capital and look for a decent butcher who knows about magic there, but why risk it if I have you? I'll even have enough parchment to make two or three tomes if things go well!"

"I could just give you Fine Control and Magus' Hands and you could do it all yourself."

"It's not just a matter of having the spells for it. You need to know how to work with carcasses, too, and I don't. Not to mention that those spells are very expensive on mana if you have to engrave them every time. You have them in your hexagram, so they're cheap for you to cast, I don't, and the skin will lose its mana if you don't complete turning it into parchment soon after starting."

Damnit, she was putting everything on him...

"I won't make you do it for nothing," she offered, "I'll make sure you have some benefits, too."

Benefits? Claude stared her a question.

Maria smiled again, as if she liked to see Claude's naive expression.

"Think about it. If you help me, wouldn't you learn how to turn skin into parchment? You don't know how to do that, do you?"

He did, he thought. Landes had detailed the whole process in his diaries. Landes only used the parchment for his diaries instead of making them into low-level tomes, but the fundamental process was still the same.

It would not do to let Maria know that, so he nodded obediently.

"You're free to watch and learn while I make the tomes and scrolls. I'll answer any questions you have," Maria tantalised again.

"Really?"

Now that was something Landes hadn't described. With that knowledge he could do everything from catch the crocodile to sell the finished tome.

"If I make enough, I'll give you a tome as well," another temptation came, "but only if you accept my job offer and move to the manor.

"Rodan told me about you being mistaken for a thief when you climbed onto your roof. I bet you were meditating, weren't you? You won't have to worry about those kinds of things if you move to the manor.

Claude sighed inside, half disappointed that he was so easy to buy, and nodded.

"Very well, Milady. As long as you can convince my father, I'm fine with it."

Chapter 94 - Visit from an Honoured Guest

Morssen received word from his wife that an important figure was coming to visit, so he rushed home and made it just in time. He checked the grandfather clock in the dining-living room as he stormed into the house and there was still half an hour until the time he'd been told the visitor would arrive. He towelled himself down, washed and dried his hair, and changed into his best clothes.

Nobody said anything when he left his office early. Few people were senior enough to complain anyway, but he had the right to take a few early days to meet important guests or visitors, especially if they were nobility or visiting officials. He hadn't known how august his visitor would be, but he was a prudent man; he didn't take any chances. The fact that the visitor had the gall to turn up on such short notice also told him that, whomever they were, they were not someone he should make wait for him, so he stormed out of the town hall and raced the public carriage he so often borrowed home.

Despite his haste, he still made sure to return every greeting he received, and answer, even if only in passing, every inquiry after his health or family. He'd done this for years, and it had paid off by making him one of the most well-known and beloved figures from the municipality. Important visitor or not, he was not going to break from tradition today.

He found himself standing just inside his front door impatiently a few minutes before the time of his mysterious visitor's arrival, and forced himself to head back to the bedroom and check his hair again. He dozed off for a minute or two, but was woken again by a considerable ruckus outside. He opened the front door to find a crowd outside. He followed their gazes down the wall to his son. The boy had turned into a butcher and was carving up a large boar. The first one or two rows of the crowd, if rows could be identified in that mass, were shouting out portions they wanted to purchase and waving money pouches about.

Claude was sweating. He couldn't use Magus' Hands in front of so many people, so he had to rely on his clumsier flesh-and-bone appendages to do the work. He found it difficult to concentrate with so many people shouting instruction at him, and ended up cutting the boar's skin on several occasions. Boar skins weren't worth that much, but they were still worth a couple of coins, and nobody was happy to see him mutilate it. He was on the brink of shouting at them to shut up or come do it themselves but he fought back the urge.

"Did you hunt it?" he heard his father's voice ask.

He lift his gaze from the butchery in front of him for a moment to see his father standing next to him, his neat clothes in a mess from pushing through an unwilling crowd.

"Yes."

"You have a fox's luck; it's huge!" his father exclaimed, "You mother told me we have a visitor? Is it this guy here?" he asked, pointing at the mutilated corpse.

Thank god his mother was taking care of Maria and Rodan, and the coachman had excused himself to get away from the blood. If any of them had heard what his father had just said his career would be over. Not even Sir Fux could afford to offend her.

Claude didn't answer his father, instead he jabbed his knife in the coach's direction. Morssen was well-versed in the insignia of local nobles, and paled. He took several deep breaths, bringing his emotions back under control and some colour back to his face, then turned his gaze back to his son. The boy was already butchering again, so he pushed his way back through the crowd and into the house.

Claude had seen Maria's crest on the coach when he'd calmed the horse, but he hadn't recognised it as such. He merely thought it was a decoration. His father knew better, of course. The kingdom had countless crests, but they were all divided into two categories based on a single motif. The countless honorary nobles were all also entitled to crests, but there was one motif they were forbidden from having in their crests: rose-thorns. Only hereditary nobles were allowed, and were in fact required to incorporate, that theme. Lady Maria's crest had it.

Maria and Rodan were being kept company by Claude's mother in Morssen's study while they waited for him. Angelina was playing maid, as usual. Bloweyk was uncharacteristically well-behaved. He sat in one corner, half-hidden behind his mother and the snowhound.

Morssen knocked on the wall beside the open door politely, then stepped into his study. He stopped half a step in, however, and stared at the baroness. Half of it was the realisation that his house, his study, had been graced by a proper noble, a lady at that, and the other half was by that lady herself. The baroness was a born and bred noble, one who'd spent the majority of her life in the capital, not some backwater half-noble like Baron Robert, and her demeanour and speech showed it.

"Nice to meet you, Mister Ferd," the baroness greeted as she levitated off the chair and gave him a curtsy, "I am Baroness Maria Fen Normanley. Apologies for my abrupt visit."

Fen Normanley... Morssen rolled the surname on his tongue, then realisation dawned on him.

His heart raced even more, half of it due to excitement, and the other half due to absolute terror. He immediately bowed, dropping his head as low as his hips in the stiffest, most formal bow his body could muster, and he kept his head lowered almost to his chest even after returning upright.

"Lady Baroness, it is our honour to receive you. May I know the purpose of your visit, My Lady?"

No noble would visit his little shack if they did not have a good reason to, Morssen knew better than most, so he cut right to the chase. The fact that the baroness had come to see him at his home, not at his office in the town hall, meant it must be a personal matter, which both puzzled and frightened him even more.

The baroness smiled at him for a long moment, then answered with that same, almost heavenly grace.

"I came because of your son--"

"Arbeit?" Morssen asked, not hearing any of the rest of what she'd tried to say, "You truly have a discerning eye, My Lady. My eldest graduated first of his year in middle school. He currently serves under Sir Fux's as his personal secretary. He praises my son often. Have you come to hire him as one of your servants?"

The baroness glanced at her butler for a moment, who returned the gesture. For all his enthusiasm, Claude's father had just committed one of the worst faux pas possible: he'd interrupted a noble while she was speaking. The baroness was a generous and forgiving lady, however, and she knew she could hardly expect a small rural official to know the etiquette of high society, so she forgave him. She was not, however, happy that he'd immediately assumed she was talking about a different son.

Rodan took his queue from his mistress and stepped forward.

"Mister Ferd, we are here today with regards to your second son, Claude Ferd. He saved my mistress when her coach's horse was panicking and threatening to run off the road with the coach and her in tow. He is also helping to solve our boar infestation. We are here to express our gratitude to his parents for raising such an excellent young man."

Morssen's face was molten. The baroness had come to express her gratitude with regards to his son, but he assumed she was here to recruit a son, and the wrong one at that!

The baroness saved him with a forgiving smile and a change of subject.

"I didn't expect Mister Ferd had yet more talented children. I expect to hear much about the Ferds in the capital soon, if that is indeed so. Good parents raise good children. You have done well Mister Ferd, Mrs Ferd."

"It's nothing, My Lady. You are too kind. I only teach them to study and act with firm resolve. I am most fortunate that both my sons have met my expectations. Claude is a rougher sort than his brother, and has less inclination to the scholarly, but excels at the physical. More importantly at home though, he is an excellent older brother to Angelina and Bloweyk. I do worry for him at times though. He has an inordinate fascination with hunting. I bought him a musket some months back with which to practice, but I now sometimes wonder if it was the correct decision."

The baroness replied with another of her forgiving smiles.

"They are quite the complementary pair, Mister Ferd. One excels at academics, and does well in the government, while the other is excellent in the physical, and would no doubt do well in the military."

Morssen nodded, but he could only wish the two made a good pair. They were as much a pair as the hero and the villain in a story were. None of his younger children respected his eldest son. Thank goodness the boy had finally realised he had best not mess with Claude and was now finally behaving properly where he was concerned.

If only he could fix their relationship, but he didn't have the foggiest clue where to even begin tackling the problem. They said they'd try to get along every time he confronted them, but it usually only lasted a week before they were in each other's hair again.

The warm smile faded from the baroness' face, replaced instead by a serious, down-to-business expression.

"Mister Ferd, I am here today not for pleasantries alone, as you no doubt know. I come with a request."

"Please, My Lady," Morssen answered in equal seriousness, "If it is something I can do, I would not dare turn you down."

He was both relieved and stressed by her seriousness. Relieved because he finally had his chance to build a good relationship with the baroness, and stressed because this was also a chance to fail and ruin not only his potential relationship with her, but his entire career in all likelihood.

"You know, of course, of my manor in the countryside, and of my wood."

Morssen nodded.

"I am here for the next fortnight to do several experiments in my laboratory before returning to the capital. My wood and the small farmland has been plagued by wild boar as of late, however, and I am looking for a solution. My butler suggests I hire hunters to deal with them, or a guard to keep watch. I was actually on my way into town to do just that when my horse panicked and your son saved me. I took your son back to my manor to thank him, but when he heard about my trouble with the boars he offered to help me out, and that's what he's done. He has a far better upbringing than any hunter, and I feel I can trust him not to damage the materials I grow on my farm or in my wood, so I wish to hire him to be my manor's guard instead. He is still a minor, if not for much longer, and so I have come to speak with you about this."

Morssen's head nearly split in half from his smile.

"It would be an absolute honour to have my son serve you, My Lady, and I know my son would feel the same. I shall have him report to your manor first thing tomorrow morning."

"Is he not still attending school, Mister Ferd?" the baroness asked cautiously.

"That will not be a problem, My Lady. His grades are good and he is more than prepared for the final exam. He will not be affected by missing these last few weeks of school, as long as he can still go to write the exam, of course."

Maria was half stunned that Claude's father appeared so eager to give his son away.

Chapter 95 - You should be a Chef

"Good morning, Milady."

"You're late, Claude," Maria answered a second later, putting down her book.

Claude didn't meet her glare. It wasn't even nine yet, his father had brought him to the foot of the hill, but he still had to walk up it...

"You're just wasting time like this. Stay tonight. Rodan will prepare a room. Don't worry, I'll inform your father," Maria said; again with that it's-already-decided voice.

"I do whatever Milady says."

Claude had had a long talk with his father in the study about the baroness' background and had decided it was best to do what she said. It was only for ten days, after all. He'd faced much worse before.

"Good. Put your musket away. You and I know you are not here to shoot pigs. You'll be my assistant. Come; change into this."

The clothes looked like doctor's robes. But grey, and made of linen.

Maria started handing out orders the moment the two set foot in the laboratory.

"Cut off all the unnecessary bits. With Magus' Hands and Fine Control, of course. Then separate the bone-scales from the skin beneath."

"Understood, Milady."

Rodan brought tea and snacks an hour after they started.

The baroness sat, ever-so-stately, enjoying her tea as she observed her newest, and youngest, servant work her priced crocodile. One might be forgiven for thinking the two were just sitting, meditating, if not for the crocodile's skin, which split and folded as if touched by invisible hands.

The morning ended in sweat and hot tea with a third of the work done.

"Time for lunch," Maria announced suddenly with a clap of her hands, "Then a short nap before we get back to work. You can either sleep or read. The food was delicious, by the way. You have quite the versatile set of hands on you, maybe I should turn them into parchment--" she smiled mischievously. "--You will take care of dinner tonight, won't you?--" Her face said it wasn't a question. "--Just tell Rodan what you need."

Claude smiled bitterly, yet not without appropriate obedience.

"As you wish, Milady."

Damn that father of his! It was all his fault! All he had to do was agree to her request. He didn't have to make her stay for dinner and then make Claude prepare the food! At first he only offered dinner, but the baroness refused and in his desperation to get her to stay he told her Claude was a great cook and he would be the one preparing dinner.

Her infernal interest was piqued and his father swore him to hell and back to make the best food he had ever made. Now he was not just boar hunter, but head chef as well!

He had not thought she might give him such a promotion at the time, else he would not have put in so much effort. But he had not, and so he had prepared an eight course meal from the best dishes he remembered and could make with what was at hand. Everything tasted slightly off to him, since many of the ingredients used back on earth didn't exist here, or tasted differently, but the baroness didn't know that, and she was more than impressed.

She had never eaten even a single dish of what was served that night, not even in the greatest restaurants of the capital. She had to fight to keep the drool from dribbling down her mouth, while not swallowing too obviously. She had to preserve her dignity, after all. She managed that, what she did not manage, however, was to stick to a lady's portions. She ate until she felt embarrassingly full.

Morssen, ever the ambitious man, immediately started wondering if he should change his plans for his second son and have him serve as the baroness' chef instead of sending him off to his godfather.

Claude knew the moment he saw the look of sorrow on Maria's face when she swallowed the last bite of dessert that he was in for it. And now it had come. His thoughts wandered back to that conversation his father had had with him in the study after they'd seen the baroness off.

"Isn't she just a baroness?" he had asked.

"Who do you think Lady Maria is? Baroness or not, she's a Fen Normanley! She has, if not the king's ear, then his advisors'. Her words are worth more to the king than the entire Council of Lords!"

The rest of the night, what was left of it at the time, was spent in the study listening to his father's recounting of House Fen Normanley's history, with several substantial sidetracks about how Claude's grandfather Habis had made the greatest mistake of his life to not continue to serve in the military since he could also have been in the Normanleys' position.

As it turned out, the house's founder was born a cobbler's son, in Whitestag, no less. Afess Normanley took over his father's trade and became a cobbler himself. He joined Stellin IX's army like Claude grandfather, but, unlike Claude's grandfather, he stayed on after the town was taken. He served the king-to-be loyally for the entirety of the war and conducted himself honourably, which won the king's respect and trust. At war's end he was awarded a rural barony outside of Whitestag, and became hereditary Baron Fen Normanley.

While all twenty of the town's survivors who'd fought for the king were made nobles, only Afess was given lands, and thus became a hereditary noble. Granted, that special award was thanks to the three times Afess had saved the king's life. The king had wanted to make him a viscount and give him Whitestag itself, but his low birth made that difficult, since none of the king's already-noble followers agreed. Afess was common born, and they would never settle for him outranking any of them. He could only be made the lowest tier of noble possible.

Despite his low status in the peerage, the king's trust in him was absolute. He was made Captain of the Guard and put in charge of the king's safety. Afess died during the second war with Nasri, and the king took his son and daughter as his charges. The two grew up with the king's son, now Stellin X.

Baroness Maria Fen Normanley was Baron Afess Fen Normanley's daughter, and one of Stellin X's closest confidantes and his dearest friend, second only to her brother, who was a captain in the royal guard under her husband, Viscount Kartoff, who had succeeded her father as Captain of the Guard, which made him a general, despite the post's title. In reality, she was a viscountess, but tradition was to refer to a noblewoman by her birth title rather than a title she held by marriage -- since she was not in the line of succession for a title held by marriage -- unless she had no birth title.

She did not mind at all, since her brother had been made a viscount by the king, given his own viscounty, and had decided to leave their father's barony, and his title, to his sister. She much preferred to be known as a baroness in her own right, rather than a viscountess thanks only to her marriage to her husband.

Then there was also her fame as a mid-rank apothecary and the de facto, if not de jure, royal apothecary. Even the prime minister didn't dare cross her.

The baroness had always kept a low public profile, despite her immense power and influence, and she certainly never got involved in politics. She didn't even do favours. Her sole interest, it appeared, was her study of herbal medicine.

Her father was the one who planted the wood on their lands. Neither her father, her brother, nor she, often came here, however. They mostly governed in absentia from the capital, leaving the lands to their butler. They didn't come to town, or interact with anyone from it when they did come for a short visit, so few ever knew when they were home. Gaining her favour was incredibly difficult, but doing so would open most of the doors in the kingdom in one fell swoop. This chance Claude had been given was beyond rare, and even further beyond precious. If he was successful, he would have little trouble rising to the very top of whatever career he chose. If he crossed her, however, he would get nowhere no matter how diligent, hardworking, or talented he was. And no amount of networking, no backer, could help him if that happened. He had to take this seriously.

Morssen was both excited and terrified. If his son succeeded, his family was set for generations. If he failed, it was over for them, no matter what any of his other children might achieve, in fact, it was all but certain they would achieve nothing if Claude angered the baroness. Most importantly, one needed a strong backer if one was pursuing the peerage. Merit alone was not enough. In the absence of war, it was a multi-generation effort to build up the support with the nobility necessary to become a peer, but if they could get the baroness on their side, a few kind words would be enough.

Claude shivered as the reality of his situation, both the potential and the danger, settled in. His back drenched in cold sweat when he thought of how he'd thought of killing her. If he'd succeeded, he'd have the entire kingdom, not to mention the king, personally, after him. And he didn't doubt the king wouldn't rest until he was dead, even if he had to chase him to Nubissia and back.

His only option was obedience. So, he got back to work that afternoon without hum or complaint, and served the best dinner he could that evening.

"Alright, now the membrane is free of the plates, it's time to clean the inside," the baroness said the next morning, "Do it with Magus' Hand and Fine Control like yesterday."

"If I may, Milady. Why not use Magus' Hands and hold an actual knife? Why use Fine Control to turn my manifestations into knives? It uses up far more mana."

"The crocodile's skin is damaged by contact with physical objects, especially metals. We'll only get the best quality if we use only mana. My best option until know was a wooden blade made from bamboo. You don't have to use a physical blade, however, and shouldn't."

"Understood, Milady."

"Also, I'll have some more of that -- fried noodles, was it? -- tonight as well."

"As you wish, Milady."

The second day went much as the first.

"Alright, now split the skin into two-page sheets. Put them in this solution--" She pointed at an already-prepared bucket on a nearby table. "--and soak it for a day. Then hang them out to dry. No physical tools, understood?"

"Understood, Milady. What is the solution, if I may ask, Milady?"

"It's called a skystar solution. That book--" She jabbed a finger at a book on the other end of the table. "--describes it. You can read about it later. Just know it's used to cure the skin, which makes it more resistant to wear from use and more efficient at conducting mana."

"I see. Thank you, Milady."

"Good. But actions speak louder than words. Thank me with a good dinner."

"I will, Milady."

So came the fourth day.

"We have nothing to do today. The sheets are still drying, so go hunt a bit. I want deep-fried liver for dinner, the same way you made it last time. I can't believe that stuff could actually be edible, much less tasty. And you said liver is good for sight? Hmm... I have been struggle with my eyes for a few years now... All this work isn't helping, either."

"If I may be so bold, Milady, you have only been sitting there watching me every day."

"Exactly," the baroness said as if that should have told him everything he needed to know.

"Am I your assistant or your chef, Milady?"

"Alright, I'll be frank, Claude. You shouldn't waste your time with magic or herbal medicine. You're much better as a chef. With your skills I don't doubt you could become the Royal Chef in time, with a few recommendations from myself--"

"Milady!"

"A joke! A joke! Anyway. We're wasting daylight. Off you go!"

Chapter 96 - Difference

Maria left seventeen days later, rather than ten. She might have stayed even longer, but a messenger arrived on the afternoon of the sixteenth day, calling her back to the capital.

Claude was both her chef and her laboratory assistant for all seventeen of those days. In the end they harvested enough skin for seven tomes and 35 blank scrolls. Aside from all the work he did, Maria also taught him how to use the myriad machinery in her laboratory as well as drilling him on some of the introductory basics of herbal medicine.

Claude might sigh at times to himself, but he knew what a blessing it was to be taught by the baroness, so he always went out of his way to make her the best food he could. His food was a big part of the reason Maria chose to delay her return to the capital. She'd been about as surprised with his aptitude for medicine as for cooking, but not quite as much. She was still determined to turn him into a cook rather than an apothecary.

The two spent most of their time buried in books, or working on the crocodile skin, but that didn't stop Claude from learning his fair share about the baroness. She was a glutton. He supposed he had to be polite, so he would call her a hyper-enthusiastic gourmet instead. He supposed it was inevitable, considering the circumstances of her rearing. Being a royal princess in all but name, with all the perks that went with it, she had developed an uber-refined palate. It didn't help that, unlike for the rest of humanity, food was not a necessity for survival for her. It was not the fuel of her body that forced her to eat whatever was on hand. Instead, it was a treat, a welcome delicacy which she could forgo if it wasn't to her liking.

She would usually travel with quite the entourage, though she occasionally, like this time, came without them when she wanted to be quick or avoid drawing unwanted attention. On those occasions she would send Rodan to town to bring her meals from the old tavern. She could have Pjard make her meals for her, but his dishes were commonplace in the capital, and too much of even a good thing was boring. She also fancied her soirees to the countryside as a kind of meditative, spartan retreat, as spartan as a princess' retreat could be, so a simpler food was welcome.

Boring was indeed the operative word as well. She'd grown up on the best dishes in the kingdom, and while they were delicious, thirty-odd years of them was tiring. She'd half-dreaded the dinner with Claude's father. No doubt he would have a feast of those dishes prepared. She'd been surprised when he told his son to go make dinner, and bowled over by the foods he'd made. Not one of his dishes tasted or appeared like anything she'd ever seen before. Few of them were on par with the food she'd eaten in the capital, much less the palace, or so she'd thought at first, then she started to realise that there was no point in even comparing them. It wasn't that his food wasn't on par with the capital's food; it was that his food was something else entirely different. Being a hyper-enthusiastic gourmet, she could not turn down the chance to taste something novel. She'd resolved herself to maintain her propriety, to stick to small portions, but, once she took her first bite, she felt her resolve pack up and move out of town, and she found herself waving goodbye with a big smile on her face.

One of the most incredible surprises he brought her was a dish of vegetables. She didn't know at what she was looking, at first. They didn't look like any vegetables she'd ever eaten. When she asked, he told her it was a vegetable 'stir-fry'. The word was foreign to her. But she supposed it must be a variant of pot-roast, related to the roast, one of the six Freian cuisines. The other five were a steam, a boil, a smoke, a grill, and a cuisine original to Aueras called a mix.

Claude later told her he learned it from a notebook. She assumed he meant the magus' diary. Perhaps the magus had a liking for cooking. If it was a dish from before the fall, then it wouldn't be surprising for it to be just another of the thousands of things lost in the dark ages that followed.

Claude was not privy to the thoughts of his diners. As far as he was concerned, his food was the epitome of commonality. He made only the most basic, common dishes he'd learnt to make from his mother. He was even further hampered by his father's stinginess. He couldn't throw away unwanted parts of the meat or plants he used for dishes, he had to find a use for everything, which meant he had to make dishes that could accommodate the different flavours of those parts.

Those limitations were lifted when he started preparing meals for the baroness at her manor. The baroness loved food, and had the money to cover any wastefulness required for its preparation. It was as much Claude's playground, in that sense, as it was the baroness'. If he wanted to make a dish that needed some obscure or expensive spice for the right flavour, he need only tell Rodan what he needed and he would find it for him. Claude was as much surprised by the butler's ability to find even the rarest, obscurest of spices out here in the general middle of nowhere as by his mistress' willingness to pay for them.

He'd become convinced over the last fortnight-and-some that the baroness' core character trait was her gluttony. Another, an offshoot of the former, was her greed for recipes. If she tasted a dish she particularly liked, she always demanded, in her ever-so-polite-yet-insistent manner, the recipe. Luckily Claude didn't understand the value of his dishes and was all too happy to give them to her.

The two got along well, save for their arguments of the recipes. Not because Claude was unwilling to give them to her, as stated, he was too happy to do so, but because of the way he described the amounts of each ingredient. He was a firm believer in 'guidance with freedom', that his recipes should be a baseline guideline giving the chefs a general direction in which to aim, but that still leaves them with room to experiment and make the dish their own. His mistress, on the other hand, wanted her chefs to make Claude's dishes, exactly, down to the grain and drop, so she was never happy when she went over his recipes.

The baroness' other core characteristic was her obsession with herbal medicine. For all the casualness she could have in everything else, Claude had never known a stricter teacher once the two got started on his herbal medicine lessons.

"There is no room for error in herbal medicine. It is either success, or death," she was fond of saying.

Another of her characteristics, far behind the former two in defining her character, but outstanding in its uniqueness, was her identity as a magus. She had told him one afternoon that she learned magic because of a childhood infatuation with it. Nowadays she didn't bother with it too much.

Claude could see that, he didn't even know what kind of magi she was. Most of her spells were harmless, clearly chosen for their simple convenience. The only combat spell she knew was Lightning, and only because her adoptive royal brother had insisted she learn it so she would have at least one spell with which to defend herself. Magic, to Maria, was just a convenience, a tool to make every-day life a little easier.

If he was discussing identity defining characteristics as well, he could not ignore her social status. She cared barely any more than nothing about it, save that it allowed her to stay close to her adoptive brother; and it vanished from her mind completely when she was in the laboratory and she would act towards Claude like they were both commoners. Claude had heard from his father that there was a rumour going around that she lived in her laboratory in the capital, that her bed had not needed making for years because she never slept in it. Rodan appeared to share a belief in that rumour. He was quite grateful to Claude for his dinners which drew the baroness away from her laboratory, if only briefly, on a regular basis.

Claude was very glad his first magus encounter was with Maria. He doubted anyone else would have been as forthcoming with information, or as restrained in attack that afternoon they'd first met. Most crucially for Claude, though, she had only a passing interest in his spells and the diaries. He was most grateful for her tutelage in herbal medicine and her guidance on tome and scroll production. If anything, he regretted that she didn't have just a little more interest in the subject, he might have been able to learn even more from her were that the case.

She did share enough for Claude to understand his general position on the ladder. She also showed him that he didn't have to live in as much fear of being discovered, or, more accurately, that as long as he was not discovered, he need not live in fear. Most importantly, he had to hide as much information about his abilities as a magus as possible. Not to avoid detection by normal people, but to protect himself against other magi.

He got one tome and five blank scrolls from his mistress once the work was done. He nearly fell over when he held the six items in his hands. A single tome, depending on the spells it contained and the quality of its materials and workmanship, could sell for 50 crowns or more. A blank scroll was worth 5 crowns a piece as well. He finally realised why she didn't even bat an eye at buying the crocodile for 45 crowns. She could make that back with just a single tome.

Maria had originally thought she'd have to stay for a fortnight to finish processing the crocodile and making the tomes and scrolls. Thanks to Claude, however, she finished in just seven. She stayed despite that, however, to teach the boy.

Claude mastered the basics of inscription, the process of inscribing spell formations onto parchment to create scrolls or tomes, just a day before she was recalled, and she rewarded him with an inscription of her sole combat spell on one of his scrolls.

The spell wasn't that powerful, nor did it have any real range, but its paralysis side effect was very useful. Maria would have liked for it to be one of Claude's initial seven spells, but its formation was too complex, so it would have to wait for him to prepare his second hexagram.

Claude realised, a day or two before his mistress' departure, that she'd become his homeroom teacher, or he treated her as such, at least. He'd turned into an attentive pupil -- read sponge -- that stared at her with big, glowing eyes all day long. The realisation also explained why his mistress had had such a strange smile on her face the last couple of days, like she was staring at a puppy or a toddler. He looked even more so for his earnest efforts to please her; and she was certain he would wag his tail at her compliments had he one.

All things must come to an end, however, and the end of their fortnight together was brought by the messenger from the capital. It was time for her sister-in-law, on her biological brother's side, to give birth, and she had to return to tend to her. Much as she wanted to stay, family came first, so she packed up and prepared to leave.

She had Claude prepare and join her for their final dinner together, and officially informed the Siori couple that the boy was now in charge of looking after the wood. She also gave the boy the key to her laboratory and permission to use her tools and materials in her absence.

Claude was grateful for her kindness. He need not worry about being discovered in her wood and could practise his magic openly.

On Maria's part, she simply wanted him to continue to work hard. He showed potential, sad as it was that he was more concerned with herbal medicine than with cooking, which she still fervently believed was his true calling.

She handed him a strip of paper during their final goodbyes, an address written on it.

"There isn't a magic black market in the three prefectures, but they do operate a small shop for the purchase and sale of various ingredients here--" She pointed at the piece of paper. "--If you need anything, pay a visit to this address.

His eyes widened when he saw the address. A shop had been opened there only recently, and his mistress had not been there yet.

He slipped the paper into his pocket and handed her an envelope with instruction not to open it until she was on her way. Inside he'd written down everything he, or rather, Landes, knew of Magus' Hands, Decomposition, and Reconstruction, as well as diagrams of their formations, as well as a tease that if she engraved the four spells, she could make a proper array of her own.

Claude watched the horse trot off into the distance, carriage in tow, with his mistress and her butler inside.

Chapter 97 - Wood Supervisor

Claude's life should have returned to normal after the baroness' departure for the capital, but it didn't. She charged him with watching over her estate, even putting the Sioris under him. He thought about it for several hours after her departure, and decided to go home first to inform his parents.

He found two horses in the stables. The older one was Tonny, he had a gentle demeanour and a patient temperament. The younger one, Jemmy, the one Claude had kept from running off the road, was more impetuous. He was originally the butler's horse of choice, he'd been the one to bring the baroness from the capital. Rodan decided to leave him in the countryside for a while this time. He hoped it would cool him down some.

The manor had a carriage and a coach. The coach was for the baroness and Rodan's exclusive use, but the carriage could be used by the servants for their errand runs; the Sioris used it to go to town when they needed to buy supplies.

The coach was small, only large enough to fit two people on two small seats. It was the one tethered to Jemmy when Claude met the baroness. Rodan preferred it over the carriage for his trips to the old tavern. The baroness also used it occasionally for incognito trips into town. Claude had been added to the short list of people with permission to use it.

He had originally planned to ride Jemmy home, but he had to bring luggage back to the manor with him, so it would be better to take the carriage. He made sure to tell the Sioris he would be using the carriage before leaving.

His mother, little brother, and the snowhound were home. The little piggy nearly choked on his rain-drenched snot when he finally saw Claude again and refused to let go until his mother pried him loose for his afternoon nap. Claude only got to speak to his mother after the little piggy was asleep. The conversion was bittersweet, but short, and he headed to the attic to pack his things.

He didn't have many possessions; a couple of sets of clothes, a towel, a few personal hygiene products -- what little there was of such things in this world -- Landes' diaries and notebook, the stone chest and the shaliuns. Claude had considered leaving the magic related things behind, but after considering the possible dangers, especially of his mother deciding to give his room a thorough clean in his absence, he decided it would be for the best to take everything with him.

He was heading downstairs with his bag when he remembered the three magic items he'd bought from Wakri's shop. He kicked himself lightly. Damnit, he should have asked Lady Maria what she thought of them! It was too late for regrets now, however, so he put the thought aside, fetched the items, and took everything to the dining room.

He wanted to leave immediately, but his mother insisted he stay for dinner. He had to make a run to town before then, however, so he left his things in the dining room and took the carriage to town. He stopped by the market to buy oats, black-turtle beans, and a few eggs for the horse. He took him to the stream, gave him a good washing and brushing, then took it home where he fed it just before dinner.

Morssen returned just as Claude was cleaning up the table after his dinner. Claude set a place for his father, and opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by his father's hand.

"I already know," his father said.

How could he know when nobody had told him yet?

"Lady Maria sent me a letter this morning. She said she was very happy with your performance so far and has decided to keep you on more permanently. She'll pay you three thales a month--" His father shook his head bitterly. "--I earn three thales a month for being the town's chief secretary, but you get it for being a guard. I also had to work nearly a decade for the promotion, while you're getting it with your first job even before you graduate! I really don't know..."

His eyes wandered the dining room for a long moment, then settled on the bags behind the door.

"Those yours?" he asked.

"Yes. My clothes, a few personal things, and my textbooks."

His father took out his pipe and packed it while his son spoke. He lit it and puffed a few times until a satisfying blob of smoke came out with his breath.

"Lady Maria sent me an envelope with the details of one of her local bank accounts. She's opened it specifically to hold your salary money. She won't be here for a while to pay your salary herself, so I'm to withdraw the money from the account and pay it to you on her behalf on the 15th of each month. You should get yourself a trunk for your luggage, by the way."

Claude had to fight to keep his hand from slapping his face. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of getting a trunk? He'd even been in the market just an hour ago! Ugh, he really ought to sharpen up his common sense. He shook his head and scolded himself again.

Well, at least no one would see him with his little sack tonight. But he really ought to get a trunk as soon as possible. Not before his father gave him his first paycheque though, otherwise he might realise he had other money stashed away somewhere.

"The baroness seems to have quite a bit of interest in you. I wonder what you did to catch her eye... She said you can continue to attend school until you graduate, but you mustn't neglect her estate, you understand?"

Claude nodded obediently. His mother had to fight back the tears when they said their goodbyes, and she wouldn't stop reminding him to eat properly and wear warm enough clothes. Arbeit skulked in the corner, unable to hide the jealousy and envy in his eyes.

"Lady Maria has been teaching me herbal medicine. She said I have a talent for it," Claude added to squash any would-be rumours.

"I see," Morssen murmured, his eyes glowing, "I regret arranging to send you to the military. If you could stay on with the baroness and earn her favour you might not even need to serve at all. And if you could become an apothecary, then, even if you have to serve, you wouldn't be put in harm's way. You started too late, I'm afraid. The tests are in the 11th month already, so I doubt you'll be ready in time."

The certification exams took place only once a year. They were very difficult and the markers were very strict. Not to mention one had to study an almost unrealistic amount of material for them.

Many applied for the exams, but usually only a couple qualified each time. Despite the incredible failure rate, people still kept coming, and many took the exams several times. The benefits the crown handed out to apothecaries were just too worth it. One of the big ones was an exemption from the draft in all but the most dire of situations, and a cushy position in the army if one volunteered. Even if they didn't join the army itself, but worked for it as a private healer, they would still earn quite a tidy income from treatment fees.

It was too late, even for Claude, however. There was no way he would be prepared for the exams in time, even if he did nothing but study and sleep. He might be ready for the next year's exams, but this year was out of the question.

Claude said another round of quick goodbyes, glaring at his mother to not pester him again, and departed. Arbeit ignored him completely and Claude was all too happy to play along. His younger siblings weren't as obliging, unfortunately. It took a fair amount of consoling and bribing to quiet them and free him up enough to get going. Even the snowhound made a fuss.

He got back to the manor late that night, and found the Sioris waiting for him by the front gate. Claude felt bad for making them wait there for so long -- he'd originally told them he would be back by sundown and asked them to wait for him by the front gate.

Siori took the horse's reigns from him and started leading it to the stables.

"Hold up, Mister Siori. I want to bring a few things out to the carriage from the guest room," Claude stopped him.

"Aren't you going to sleep there?" Siori asked.

"No. No point in staying in such a big house on my own. I'll stay in the out-building in the back."

Normanley Manor was one of the premier, if somewhat small, country houses and estates in the kingdom. The main house was built in the high Droman style popular a century earlier. The outside was a complex interplay of white masonry, and black brickwork and tilery. The manor had two master suites, six guest suites, servants' quarters, a great hall, a large basement kitchen, a separate dining hall, and two in-house storage rooms.

Claude didn't like the idea of haunting the hallways and servants' corridors of the -- for him -- massive abode, so he decided to move into one of the out-buildings behind the main manor.

The main grounds stretched for nearly a hundred metres in every direction from the main manor. The rear portion of which contained several outbuildings, among which were the stables, the laboratory, and the estate servants' quarters. Only the servants serving in the manor itself were housed in the building, those responsible for tending to other things such as the horses, the grounds, and the farm and wood were housed in the outbuildings. The Sioris were thus domiciled there, as had Wien been, before he'd returned to the capital with his mistress.

Claude chose to stay in a small cottage on the edge of the main ground further up the hill behind the manor proper. It was the original domicile from back when the manor was still just a country villa for a noble who spent most of their time in the prefectural capital. It had fallen into disrepair during the war, but the baroness' father, though having the manor built for his residence, refurbished it and used it as guest lodging for when the manor was full. It had been maintained since, though it had not been used since the baroness took over since she rarely, if ever, got any guests, and never enough to fill up the manor.

Claude had been told to clean the place up as practice using Magus' Hands before he'd been put to work on the more delicate parts of the parchment-making procedure, and he'd taken a liking to the place. It was still gaudy, as were all things nobles possessed, it seemed, but far more humble than anything in the main house. Most importantly, it had a small rooftop arbour that gave him unfettered, and unsuspicious access to the moonlight. He'd wanted to move there from the beginning. But the baroness had insisted he keep her permanent company in the main house while she was still there.

"You want to live here, Master Claude?" Siori asked.

"Yes," Claude nodded, "And please, just call me Claude. I'm a commoner, and a servant to the baroness just like yourself, not to mention I'm so much younger than you. Speaking of which, I must still attend school, so I'll leave the normal day-to-day care of the estate in your hands, please continue as you always have. You can call for me if something comes up that needs my attention."

"Very well, Mister Claude," Siori said, his tone still just as referential.

Chapter 98 - The Small Hut

Claude attended school again the next day. His friends were waiting for him when he arrived.

Welikro gave him a fist nudge.

"You're finally back," Welikro said, stabbing him with a fist.

Claude's eyes wandered around the room, pausing on each face for a smattering of a second, and he realised they all stared back at him with admiration. Why, though? Was it because he skipped school for a whole fortnight?

"Everyone knows the baroness just outside town hired you to be her guard," Borkal chimed, "Even the instructors are jealous. Your future is all but sorted already."

"How did you find out?" Claude asked, surprised.

"Everybody knows the baroness was back from the capital, but no one ever gets a chance to meet her. She's always been a recluse, she doesn't even attend the mayor's events. How did you do it?"

Borkal, for all his apparent ignorance, always knew quite a lot about the town's undercurrents, about the unsaid and the unspoken. That had only grown stronger after his father started actively training him as his successor in the last couple of months. He told Borkal everything that happened in town as well as the problems he bumped into during business without reservation.

Claude shrugged.

"I was out hunting. Wero told me there was good hunting to be found in the area, so I went there. I came across her on the way there. Her horse was startled by something and came charging down the road. It was about to charge off the road so I stopped it and calmed it down. She took me to the manor to thank me. One of her servants found a singular of boars and I took out a couple of them, one of them was the boar I brought home. She decided I would be useful so she hired me to keep an eye on her estate while she's gone."

"Damn, you've got some luck!" Borak cried, "I heard she came here to do an experiment for her herbal medicine research. Is it true?"

"I don't know. We didn't interact all that much, you know. I only know she spent most of her time in her laboratory. She had me lay some herbs out in the sun to dry a couple of times, and she taught me a bit of herbal medicine. But that's it."

"And I heard she went back to the capital yesterday?" Eriksson asked.

Claude smiled bitterly. Whitestag was too small, and news travelled too quickly. Claude saw no reason to play coy about her absence, however, so he nodded. He could hardly deny it and be believed when she'd left in the coach with her insignia and drove it right through the middle of town on the way.

"So you're not going out to the wood anymore, right? We can finally hang out again," Eriksson said, his voice growing more excited with every word.

Claude's head shook.

"I'm still in her employ. I've moved to her estate and I'm still responsible for it."

His three friends' shoulders slumped.

"So we can't hang out anymore?"

"You can come visit me if you want," Claude offered, "Why not come tomorrow?"

"Really?" Borkal's smile was awkward, but his voice excited, "I've been wanting to go there, but my dad wouldn't let me."

"The madam is easy-going. She won't have a problem. And she's not here, anyway. When you come, just ask the old couple to show you to me."

The four chatted for a while longer and eventually decided to head home after school and pack a few things before heading to the manor together. Everyone was excited to hunt on a noble's estate. There wasn't enough space on the carriage for everyone and their stuff, so Claude made a trip alone first to take their luggage and weapons to the estate.

The carriage stopped by the manor, all four boys in tow, at sundown. Lancy was cooking dinner and nearly had a heart-attack when she saw the three extra mouths arrive. Her husband was somewhat cooler-headed, however, and asked if they should make dinner for the three unexpected guests as well.

The three boys gawked at the referential tone the two old people used and finally learnt that Claude was in charge of all the servants, few as they were.

Claude smiled apologetically at the panicking old woman and thanked her but said they had their own dinner. The old lady nearly sighed her lungs out when she heard that and vanished back into the kitchen before Claude could change his mind.

When the carriage pulled up to the main gate before that, the boys nearly lost their jaws. The white-and-black manor loomed over them like a giant sculpture, and they gawked like the country bumpkins they were. Claude had no intention of taking them inside, however. He didn't think their egos could handle it, so they'd headed around to the back without stopping.

The three boys gawked no less at Claude's new residence. It was far less impressive than the manor, but the fact that it was their friend's residence more than made up for that. None of them thought they'd own a house like that for at least the next fifteen years, possible even never, but Claude was already living in one. Claude immediately got to work on dinner and had Welikro take two servings to the Sioris to try as well.

"Why haven't they torn it down? It's beautiful and all, but they can house many more people if they replace it with the same quarters they have for the servants."

Claude smiled.

"The madam said they've kept it around because it was the estate's original villa. I don't know exactly why, but that's what she said. Besides, you know she doesn't get many guests, and she doesn't have a lot of servants here, so she doesn't need extra housing. Why tear a perfectly good house down when you don't have any reason to?" Claude asked.

"Hmm..." Borkal mused, "I remember dad telling me about the villa. Afess Normanley used to be the town cobbler, everyone knows that. But it seems everyone's forgotten his father was employed by the villa's former nobles to watch over the estate and was allowed to stay in the villa when they weren't there. Afess wanted to inherit his father's position, but the old man didn't want him to have anything to do with nobles, since he saw how unruly things had become and know something like the civil war was inevitable.

"He apprenticed for several years and became a cobbler, but he never liked his job, so he jumped at the chance to join the king's small band when he was offered the option. He came back as a baron, now owner of the estate, to find his father's grave.

"He's probably kept the villa as is ever since in honour of his father."

It sounded reasonable, at least. The baroness had told him she didn't care much for the villa, after all. If not for all the trouble it would cause, she would have torn it down years ago. It didn't fit with the rest of the manor's aesthetic, but she wasn't here often enough and for long enough to be bothered enough to have it actually torn down.

Welikro returned, empty plates in hand, while Borkal was recounting the old town rumours. He ploshed the two in the sink in the washroom and took out two cloth-wrapped loafs of black bread.

"Remember to say thanks for the food," he said simply as he plopped them on the table.

His timing couldn't be better, Claude was just setting the dishes on the table, so the four got to eating immediately. Borkal took out one of the flasks of ale he'd brought along. He'd graduated from expensive wine to cheap, but quite tasty, ale during Claude's absence.

Dinner vanished in a wink and the four cleaned the table and washed the dishes, then retired to the rooftop arbour to relax before heading to bed. A fortnight was a lifetime to boys their age, so they had much catching up to do.

Autumn was beginning to wane towards winter, so the evenings were cool, with a slight nip just beginning to crawl in. The four braved the night air for about an hour before they started turning in one by one. Borkal was the first to surrender to his exhaustion.

Welikro and Eriksson had little intention of following him anytime soon. Welikro was well on his way to finishing the ale while Eriksson brooded as only teen boys in the middle of puberty could.

The three sat in silence for a while before Eriksson sighed and started spilling the beans for which everyone was waiting. It turned out he'd been having a recurring nightmare since the start of Claude's fortnight-long absence. He kept dreaming he was drifting in the middle of the ocean, alone, only a large wooden barrel to keep him both afloat and company. He never knew how long he drifted there in his dreams, but he was certain each time it was several days at least, despite never seeing the sun. The skies were perpetually covered in ominous black clouds, streaked only by lightning bolts. The seas usually started relatively calm, but quickly became stormy and he would be left clinging to the barrel for all he was worth as the waves tossed him around like a fly in a stiff breeze.

He'd had the dream five times in the fortnight since he'd first had it, and every time he would wake up drenched in ice-cold sweat. He knew more happened to him in the dream than just drifting there, though he remembered none of it. It made him deeply worried for his father and robbed him of his peace.

His father had promised to return for his graduation. His birthday was not long after, and since he would be eighteen, he would be liable for taxes and would have to find a job. His father had promised to help him with that.

"He'll be fine," Claude said as conciliatorily as he could, "He'll be back before you know it. He left with a big fleet, and a good escort. He isn't in any danger. Where was it I read that you always dream about the opposite of what will actually happen? You should be worried if you didn't have this dream."

Claude's words struck hollowly, even to himself, but he had little else he could do.

If everything had gone according to plan, Eriksson's father should be docked in Tyrrsim's harbour by now. He should be there for another month before returning home. If nothing went wrong on the way back, he would dock in Whitestag again somewhere in the middle of the 11th month.

That didn't leave him with much room for error since the graduation ceremony was on the 26th of the 11th. He had to get everything right to make it on time. There was still a month and a half for him to return, however, but also a month and a half for something to go wrong. Claude doubted Eriksson was the only one praying for the captain's safe return. At least two-thirds of the town had someone in the family on one of the ships, and all the big figures in town were invested in the trip in one way or another, even if many didn't know the true purpose of it. His father was foremost among the figures with investments in this venture. If everything went well, he could have news in the capital by new year's.

Despite the shallowness of his consolation, Eriksson's face lost some of its shadows and Welikro humphed as he gulped down the last of the ale.

The three turned in for the night, content.

The four spent the whole of the next day hunting, and returned with a decent haul, though none had scored any big prey. Most of their catch were hares, squirrels, and a few turkeys.

Chapter 99 - The Old Street at Night

The days passed uneventfully for Claude for a while. Life on the estate was pastoral, and despite living right next to a manor, it felt more like he was living somewhere in the mountains, sequestered away for some spiritual retreat, which was not entirely inaccurate, when he thought about it.

He did little in terms of management of the estate; most of that was left to the Sioris. He only checked in on them occasionally to make sure everything was still in order. The couple were getting on for time, but they had managed the estate together for all their adult lives and were still far from too old to manage on their own. As a result most of his time was spent wandering the woods foraging for herbs, spices, and mineral rocks for his concoctions and ointments, and making said ointments. He cooked for himself and ate alone most of the time, though he occasionally invited the Sioris over for a meal, usually either preceded or followed by a meeting to discuss the state of the estate.

The estate needed little tending, despite its size, thanks to most of it being natural-growth woodland, so the majority of the elderly couple's time was spent looking after their personal land; a small patch of farmland just west of the estate's borders. They cultivated mainly blackwheat and potatoes -- wheat over the summer and potatoes through the winter -- and had two-dozen laying hens.

Servants were not usually allowed to have any devotions aside from their family and the estate and lords which they tended and served, but the baroness had granted the two permission to work a bit of land. She knew they had little else to do in the extended periods of her absence, so she didn't have a problem with it. The two had suggested the idea to her with the intent of working a stretch of the woodland and generating a bit more income for her, but she insisted they do it for themselves. She even bought the couple of hectares of land they now worked herself as a reward for their long years of service, and insisted they keep any income it generated for themselves.

They were family as far as she was concerned, they'd all but raised her until the king had taken her and her brother in, after all, and considered it her duty to look after them. Their children were grown up and married, and had followed her brother to his viscounty, so their family was continuing their service to the family, if not on this estate. It made sense, she supposed. The young ones were tied to her brother since they were roughly the same age and had grown up revering him, so it was natural for them to follow him. Their parents, however, had spent their entire adult lives tending to the estate, and were tied more to it than any of the Normanleys. They loved the brother and sister, yes, but they were like children. The two had watched them grow up. They brother-and-sister pair had grown up, and like all children, had left the house to live on their own. The two elders just wanted to live out the rest of their lives peacefully, tending to the estate.

Normanley Manor was the birthplace of House Fen Normanley, and had for two generations before their entitlement been their home. Now, however, it was a place of retreat more than a home. Maria still loved the place dearly. The pastoral days it gave her were a precious change from the bustle of the capital, which was also no doubt why its previous owners had built their villa there. The quiet was especially precious for her more difficult experiments.

The wood was originally planted for lumber, but it had sat untended for that purpose for five decades, and was now a forest in all but name, still called Normanley Wood. All-in-all, the forest covered 486 hectares of land, swallowing up four large hills, including the one on which Normanley Manor stood.

The Sioris could never have managed the forest if it were still a wood, if it had to be maintained as a wood would have to, but since it was being left to become natural-growth woodland, a forest, they had very little to do. They need only patrol it occasionally to make sure they were aware of its state and keep some of the more destructive animals out.

Claude did little as far as the daily management of the woodland was concerned, though he had taken enthusiastically to patrolling it. He especially enjoyed taking Jemmy out for long rides in the darkest corners of the valleys between the hills and along the brooks and creeks that cut down them. He couldn't survey all of the estate in a single outing, but if he spent an hour a day patrolling at a good trot, he could cover all of it once a week. He rarely spent only an hour out on horseback, however, since he usually stopped to pick a few herbs or shoot a stray hare or squirrel. His biggest concern was illegal loggers, of which he'd caught several already.

His pickings were nothing new. The Sioris had always taken baskets along on their patrols, and sold their pickings in the town market every couple of weeks. Claude did much less of it, however. The Sioris did it mainly for the extra income between harvests, but Claude had no need of extra income, so he only picked to restock his stores.

His days were once again spent in school, but his late afternoons and evening were spent at the estate. The late afternoons were usually spent on horseback out patrolling, while the evenings after dinner were study and meditation time. He visited his family once a week, usually Saturday evenings, and he'd spend his Sundays in the laboratory doing experiments.

He and his friends rarely spent much time together outside of school these days. Each of the other boys had their own concerns as well. Borkal was being kept more and more busy by his father as he prepared him to inherit the family business. Eriksson and Welikro were primarily occupied with fishing and sailing. All three knew it was mostly an excuse for Eriksson to be near or on the lake to keep an eye out for his father. Claude might have calmed him some with his far-fetched consolation, but the boy was still deeply worried for his father.

For all the time Claude had spent on his concoctions, he still struggled with even the simplest concoction, not to mention ointment. He'd improved a lot, but even now he successfully completed his refinements only three out of ten times if he was lucky, and they were usually of fairly poor grade and fairly ineffective; he killed his subjects more often than not.

His subjects, hares and squirrels primarily, were running out and it was about time for him to go out and catch a few more. He needed an especially large pool of subjects for the juice he had lately been trying to make. It was a simple healing concoction that could heal small wounds. The textbooks he read said a concoction's quality could be checked in its colour. The more transparent the concoction, the higher the quality and the purer its effects, but Claude had yet to make concoctions of a high enough quality for such evaluation to become possible. All his concoctions were still completely milky, and even their colour was inconsistent. It forced him to test them on animals to see how effective, or not, they were. His snares were getting worn, however, and it was time to replace them.

He still had a couple of fat hares and two turkeys left, however, so he wanted to test his concoction on them first. The animals had fattened themselves up nicely for winter, however, and he didn't like using them as test subjects rather than food, but he had to make use of what he had.

He plucked one of the hares from the cage and slit its stomach. The cut went deep enough to cause considerable bleeding, but not enough to spill its intestines. The little furrball squirmed and squaled violently for a few moments before--

"Bang!" Claude shouted, and it stopped struggling.

Claude set it on the table, stomach skyward, blood bubbling eagerly in the ravine carved into its stomach, and uncorked a small glass vile. He poured a thin stream of the milky bile-green liquid along the cut and watched it mix with the crimson blood for a few moments before the boiling in the blood started to change. It was originally an eager bubbling, like water bubbling happily out of a small fountain, but now it bubbled frantically, like a sauce being simmered down to a thick stew. The blood thickened as it bubbled and solidified into a char-black scab over the cut.

Half an hour later the scab fell off, revealing pale skin beneath. The hare, however, was stiff, eyes glassy. Another failure, he sighed. Maria had warned him to be careful and precise with his measurements. Clearly he had been neither in enough measure.

His mind wandered for a moment, and he remembered the address Maria had given him before she'd left. The address for the small black-market shop in town. Maybe he could buy the materials he needed for an array there.

The thought brought him back to his and his mistress' different opinion of magic. Claude was a magus first and foremost, whilst Maria was an apothecary first and perhaps a magus on the side. As such, she dedicated herself to the study of medicine without the use of magic. Claude, however, had no such qualms. Why should he struggle on without magic?

He relished the thought of using an array to make potions instead of having to struggle to make concoctions by hand. Array had a very low failure rate, and you had to really mess up to make it fail, unlike concoctions, made by hand without magic, which failed at the slightest mismeasurement.

He made his decision to dive head-first into alchemy, tossed the dead hare to Siori, and headed to town on the carriage. He stopped by his family home for dinner. His mother had just started cooking when he arrived, and he handed her a hare and a turkey he'd brought along. His little siblings forced him to play with them and the dog until dinner was ready.

Arbeit slithered into the house with his usually impeccable timing when it came to dinner, gulped down his food in silence, and left as quickly as he'd come. Claude had come to despise his older brother even more since he'd moved to the estate. The bastard didn't even bother to thank him for the meat he'd brought for dinner. Even the snowhound had better manners than him.

"Are you going back home right after dinner?" his mother asked as he swallowed his last bite and followed it with the last of his water.

"No," he answered, "I need to stop in town to buy a few things."

"Now? There aren't any shops open this late. And you shouldn't waste your money on any shop that is still open. They're only scamming you!" his father chirped with his usual firm frugality, "You should go straight home. It's late."

Claude didn't argue with his father. He left for the estate obediently until the road turned a corner and he was out of his father's sight. He left the carriage and horse in the town square and headed for the slums. He could take it with him, but he didn't want to reveal his identity, not to mention it would attract unwanted attention from unsavoury sorts.

The night was unnaturally dark in the narrow, dim slum streets. What little illumination the moon might have offered was blocked by the shoddy roof overhangs. Only the occasional dancing shadows of the window beams thanks to candles betrayed the darkness. But even those eventually faded away as he reached the heart of the slum.

He pulled the his hood over his head. It need not cover his face as much as it would have had to in the town proper to completely hide his face, so he could see out quite well. He still wrapped a thin cloth around his face, if for no other reason that it made him feel more comfortable. He stood out like a sore thumb in his getup, despite the darkness, but as he neared his destination, more and more of the few pedestrians in the alleys wore similar garments.

Not all were headed for the same shop as he. Old Street was the town's red light district, and many other distractions there required the same level of discretion to attend. The rest of town was busy during the day and deserted at night, save for a few taverns, but Old Street was deserted during the day, and crowded at night.

As he neared the furthest end of the street, more and more shops were open. Most of them were fronted by scantily clad women. Every possible combination of physical characteristics was present; young, old, skinny, fat, slender, plump, fair, dark, etc.

The majority of the people walked slowly, taking time to investigate every shop's offerings before moving on or heading inside. The street, despite being very crowded, was quiet; people spoke only in whispers and hoarse, unrecognisable voices.

Claude sighed. He'd hoped to avoid the worst of it by coming early, but it seemed he'd underestimated the impatience of lust. He ducked carefuly between a number of vixens, a couple reaching for him, and slipped away into the darkness again. He grabbed one final glance at the street and turned to head down another alley, but was stopped by a familiar voice. His eyes followed the sound, and came to rest on his older brother. Arbeit was whispering to a young woman just a couple metres from Claude, negotiating a price for her time.

"Screw off! Why even bother coming if you don't have the money?!" she suddenly yelled, "You have my price, and not a penny less! And no tab for the likes of you!"

Claude had to bite back his laughter and slipped away into the darkness.

"Seventeen Flowerstone Alley," he whispered as he came to a half in front of an old building.

The alley was tiny, not even big enough for two people to walk side by side comfortably, and black as the endless void beyond the stars. Four men crowded the doorway, loitering in its immediate vicinity. They tried to look as unsuspicious as possible, but Claude immediately recognised them as guards. They only gave him an icy glance each, then ignored him.

Claude stared at the scene for another long moment, then took a step forward.

Chapter 100 - Hurian the Fat Old Man

The alley was pitch black. The two sides crawled out of the darkness like black hands reaching for the heavens out of the eternal abyss. The sheer sides of the two-story buildings lining either side stopped what little light the moon might have offered, and the eves criss-crossed the sky like the thick canopy of a graveyard forest. The floor was damp and muddy, and Claude's steps sloshed in more than just water and mud as he slid deeper into its darkness.

The four figures had vanished as he stepped into the alley and now only their footprints remained. Puddles formed inside, hiding the excrement squashed beneath.

The alleyway stretched into a winding eternity. He'd walked down it for ten minutes now and yet he'd not found its end, nor any suggestion he might anytime soon. There were no signs, no lit windows, no open doors to tell him where the magic black market might be.

He wondered if he should have come during the day. There was no doing that now, however, so he kept walking, perking his ears to listen for any sloshing besides that of his own feet. The slums were dangerous, far more so than he had let himself admit before he'd come. He was not very concerned about being ambushed, however. His hearing was exceptional; he would have heard someone coming even without the water to louden their footfalls.

He heard nothing.

He passed a right-angled elbow in the alley five minutes later, and suddenly found himself bathed in a faint light.

He took several deep breaths, gathering his nerve, then continued on. His eyes adjusted and he saw a familiar scene, a scene he'd definitely seen before. He could not place it no matter how hard he tried, however.

Two alleyways intersected about twenty metres ahead of him. They formed a small clearing in the forest of buildings in the middle of which stood an old mulberry tree. A couple of worse-for-wear sheds stood beneath its canopy.

A lantern hung by the door of each, and a few people sat around a long table between the two. The table was lit by a single oil lamp and a brazier. Fish hung in the air, competing with black ale.

His mind jerked at him, desperately trying to rediscover the memory of this place as his feet carried him towards the clearing. The lively, if subdued, conversation over the table died down as he approached. Everyone's eyes glinted at him alertly. He was not surprised by their glares. He was not the least bit suspicious in his getup. He ignored them, however, and marched on, his eyes fixed on the mulberry tree which towered over everyone present, even the two-story buildings forming the clearing's border. His mind finally got hold of the memory and shoved it into his awareness.

That's it! Eriksson had brought him here a while back, but they'd arrived at the clearing through one of the other four alleys. The sheds hadn't been there that time. It had been just the tree. They had gone there to buy his favourite malt candy. They bought it from that new shop by... what was his name... Hurian!

His shop had not been the sheds he saw under the mulberry tree now though. His had been one of the shops looking out into the clearing. He'd also come here once to buy candy for his little brother and sister. He'd come during the day, of course.

Hurian's shop was still there, but it was clearly closed. Only a single lamp hung by the entrance and was the shop's only present illumination. Behind it '17 Flowerstone Alley' was carved into the wall.

So the letter had been right. Hurian's store really was the magic black market. He hadn't believed it when he saw the address written on the piece of paper. To think the old man was a magus as well...

"Is anybody here?" he asked, his voice purposefully hoarse, as he knocked on the door.

The shop remained dead quiet. Someone from the clearing responded instead.

"Need anything?"

Claude turned around and saw a fat man stepping out of the sheds. It took him a moment to recognise the man as Hurian in the dim light.

He knew the man as a warm person with a perpetual smile plastered on his face. That smile was gone and his persona was suspicious of Claude. He regarded him apprehensively.

"For what are you here?

"I heard you have certain... exotic items," Claude answered.

He regretted not asking Maria if there were any secret phrases, but it was too late for that now.

Hurian entered the shop without a word, lit a small oil lamp inside, and motioned for Claude to follow as he walked deeper into the shop.

"What do you want?" the man asked once he was behind his desk.

"Something special. Some might even say magical," he said conspiratorially and Hurian's eyebrows rose.

"Magic crystals, to be specific," Claude said after he saw the man's reaction.

"And what makes you think my little joint sells that? Come, cast a spell for me so I can see if you're a magus."

"Here?"

"Where else?"

Well... what should he cast? He certainly couldn't use any of the spells he'd engraved in his hexagram. Maybe one of Maria's eight. He couldn't do Appraisal or Submerged Breathing. The point was for Hurian to see the spell, so they were useless. Luminous Pearl was too eye-catching, so that one was out as well. Wind Barrier wasn't appropriate either. Chill needed a liquid medium, and he saw no cup or jar or jug of water in the shop. He didn't want to cast Hydrogenation either; it used too much mana.

He made up his mind and snapped his fingers. A small flame burst into life like one of his old world lighters had been struck.

He was very glad he'd brought his tome. He'd have been in a bit of a bind, otherwise. Hurian gazed at the flame intently for several long moments, then pinched it out of existence with a wetted thumb and forefinger.

"Come with me," his voice echoed as if from nowhere as he walked to a small door nearby and opened it, "In."

Claude followed obediently. The room was pitch black. The door clicked shut behind him and he could see nothing for a moment, then a bright light flashed into being and blinded him. He squinted instinctively, then his eyes slowly started adjusting.

The room was windowless, with bare stone walls. The door behind him and Hurian was the only interruption to the stone of the ceiling, walls, and floor. The roof was a vaulted ceiling, curving in to the middle in gentle arcs which terminated in a round hole which vanished further upward.

Three wooden shelves stood along three of the walls, the only furniture in the room. The shelves, too, were familiar to him. Were they not Wakri's? Their contents were not his, however. Claude's eye glinted as Eye of Appraisal activated.

The room lit up with colour the moment it did, so much so Claude flinched.

"So, how did you know?" the old man asked, smiling, satisfied with Claude's reaction.

Chapter 101 - High Prices

He turned around and saw a black counter next to the doorway. Hurian stood behind it. He reached down and removed a bottle of blueberry wine and two silver cups.

"Cup?" he asked.

"No. Thanks."

For the first time in his life, he felt truly uneasy because of his company. Who knew what was in that wine? He still remembered Maria's warning; not all magi were friendly.

"My teacher told me about this place," Claude answered, bringing the conversation back on topic.

"Your teacher? And who might that be?"

Claude didn't answer. As long as the man had proof he was a magus, he need not know anything else. The old man smiled knowingly and took a sip of the wine.

"Just curious", he said, putting his cup on the counter, "First time seeing you, don't know you, was curious whether I knew your teacher."

"My teacher's in Tordesass. They'll be back in a few more days, but I'm stumped by their errands," Claude continued on his own track, careful not to reveal Maria's sex, "I thought I might find something useful here. My seniors have mentioned this place a couple of times as well. The capital sent word of its opening. None of us have been here before, of course, but I have little choice."

Claude painted an impressive, unspoken picture. He was part of a group best not messed with. An extensive group, headed by a master who could have multiple disciples, with connections to the capital.

"Alright," Hurian said, his gaze shifting subtly, "What materials did you say you were looking for again?"

"Magic crystals."

"I do. Which element?"

"Fire."

There were many different crystals he could ask for, but fire crystals were the ones key to arrays. More complex arrays might use other elemental crystals, but not the one he was looking to build.

"I have a few, but they're pricey. Purchase or trade?"

"You take shaliuns?"

"Shaliuns?--" The chubby man's eyes brightened. "--I do indeed. One square of fire crystals for three shaliuns. How many?"

The square was a unit of measurement used almost exclusively for crystals. One square was roughly the equivalent of a mahjong tile. Maria always had a square water-element crystals on her person. They had cosmetic effects, making them a favourite among young women in the right circles.

Claude saw the water crystal before, he'd even toyed with it on occasion. There had to be more appropriate names than 'squares', 'pieces' perhaps.

"That doesn't sound right," Claude said, eyeing the old man, "The capital's crystals are less than two shaliuns and five crowns."

One shaliun was worth 20 crowns at the magic black market, if a square was worth 45 crowns, then it was just two shaliuns and five crowns. It appeared he was more a merchant than a magus.

He only earned three thales a month, just 36 a year. It would take him two years to make enough for just one square. Now the old man was going to try to take an extra two years?

Not to mention he needed six squares, not just one.

"The capital is far away," Hurian said calmly.

He finished his wine and refilled his cup before continuing.

"The further away from the capital, the more expensive the items. Transport costs and rarity, and all that. Besides, a shaliun is worth just 18 crowns here, so it's 54 crowns for a square. Not to mention I'm not technically even supposed to have these crystals. Any we get is supposed to be sent straight to the capital. I only have these because I'm selling them as a favour for a friend. And I've only got eight squares. I can't do anything about the price, either, my friend set it. I'm not even making a fenny out of this.

"The price is what it is. Take it or leave it. It won't take too long for me to sell them, anyway. Besides, I heard from a reliable bird prices are about to go up; prices for everything."

Claude stared at the old man. He didn't trust him, but he couldn't argue. He had little choice but to go with it and pay up.

"Fine, six squares," Claude sniffed.

Hurian's serious face bloomed into a warm smile.

"Anything else?"

"Skystar dust, whiteroot powder, and crimsonblood dew."

Skystar dust was basically powdered meteorite; whiteroot powder was a kind of powdered plant root; but crimsonblood dew wasn't anything bloody at all. It was a mineral that catalysed alchemical reactions.

Hurian's brow furrowed, and he scrutinised Claude again.

"You're setting up an array."

It was a statement, not a question. Claude wasn't surprised he figured it out. Someone trusted to manage a branch of the black market would know his stuff.

"I screwed up and ruined my teacher's array. I have to rebuild it before they come back."

Hurian laughed.

"Young people always make mistakes. It's inevitable, especially on the path of magic. Just make sure you learn and don't make it again.

"A catty of skystar dust is 16 crowns. Whiteroot powder is seven crowns a box. Crimsonblood dew is 12 crowns a bottle. Two shaliuns, I'll even give you a crown's discount."

Warm smile or not, he was a cruel merchant. Claude didn't even try to argue this time. He was upping the price by half on everything!

"Fine," Claude sighed through clenched jaws.

He finally had all the materials. He'd had to fork out more money than he'd expected, but he was lucky to find everything in one place. He'd half expected he'd have to go to several places to get what he needed.

"I have a few tablets as well, if you want them. They improve the array if you place them beneath it," the old merchant chirped.

An array could be as simple or as complex as one wanted it to be. The bare minimum was very simple, but there were infinite possibilities beyond that. An array could be, for example, set up using only the ingredients he'd bought so far, and it would work, not well, but it would work. The tablets were essentials mods on the basic design that could improve specific functions, aspects, or make it better at certain processes. They were much harder to do, however.

Magistone was the most common material for these tablets, and they often formed the foundation of common arrays. They were made from the industrial waste left over from earth crystal production.

"How large and how much?"

"Six pieces, about a square meter in all. One shaliun."

Just enough for the array. But damn that price tag! The fight was out of the boy, however, so he just nodded and paid up again. He sighed and wandered around the shelves.

Chapter 102 - Magic Crossbow

The shelves were a collection of rainbows. Claude picked up something that looked suspiciously like a bamboo tube. It glowed like spring grass. He focused on it and noticed soft lines etched into its surface, runes on the inner surface of the tube.

"A water accumulator. It fills up over the course of a day, and contains one person's daily rations. It's essential for long journey or expeditions. It's priceless to people that do a lot of field work," Hurian half-whispered over his shoulder.

Claude put the tube down again.

"Why use it at all? A simple spell is more than enough to do that a dozen times over without even breaking a sweat."

"It's not much use to magi, true. But what about people who can't use magic? It's just one crown, too."

Did he really just say it was 'just one crown'? Claude's fists clenched slightly by his side. He could make them himself and the materials wouldn't even cost three riyas per tube, but Hurian was trying to make him pay a whole crown -- fifty riyas? Cheap Claude's arse!

"A magical alarm," Hurian chimed when Claude picked up a small golden cicada, "It rings the moment someone activates a spell within five metres. A thale, a crown for six."

So it was Appraisal crossed with a whistle? The mechanism was quite simple, really. A circuit of three runes worked together to make it work. An appraisal rune triggered when magic was used within its effective range, triggering a kind of telekinesis rune Claude didn't recognise, which pushed a reed down over a small tube in the cicada, as well as the third rune, a rune Claude vaguely recognised as being a variant of a wind spell, which no doubt blew air through the tube, making the reed vibrate and the cicada whistle.

The old merchant made it sound wondrous, but it was really not worth much. If a magi got that close without being detected, one with bad intentions, that cicada was not going to save your life. And you were a real fool if you let a hostile magi get that close in the first place.

"An axe. It's enchanted with Sharpen. It's deadlier than your average axe, of course. I have one enchanted with Toughen as well, it'll last longer."

The two continued their dance thusly up and down the shelves for several dozen minutes. Claude would pick something up, and Hurian was chime in his ear, doing his best to convince him to buy it, without appearing pushy. Claude used the dance to learn some more about various magic stuff. For one, for example, he learned that enchanted weapons had a glow tied to their enchantment. Sharpen was white, Toughen was grey.

It made him wonder about his dagger. It had a black glow, unlike everything else he saw in the shop. Maybe it was poisoned? No, he remembered reading poison had a putrid-green glow.

"...These are never-lose sewing needles," Hurian continued.

"Never-lose?"

Claude had to stifle a chortle. What use did he have for such a thing? The needles were in a small silver container, stabbed into a piece of cork.

"Yes," Hurian's mercantile voice chimed again, "Some people have a tendency to misplace things. These return to their container if left alone for a while. As long as they're within a couple of metres from the container, they'll magically reappear in it. It's the perfect gift for mothers and wives."

Claude fought back another chortle. He was really just describing a particularly far-reaching magnet. Really now, couldn't they do something more interesting?

His eyes glazed over as he lost interest. He scurried around a few more times, picking up only a couple more random items, then stopped. His eyes stuck on a metal crossbow.

"This?" he asked, reaching for it.

"Eifrey's Vengeance."

Was that supposed to mean something?

"Its name. Eifrey's an infamous pirate. He died a century ago in a mutiny. He made extensive use of this crossbow throughout his career, and it tasted a lot of blood in his final minutes. It got its name from that mutiny.

"It has three enchantments; Toughen, Rustproof, and Restoration. The strongest crossbows are made of mithril steel, but they don't last long. Toughen slows that, and Restoration repairs the wear. Mithril rusts easily as well, hence Rustproof.

Claude was more intrigued by the delicate, intricate design than any of its enchantments. It could even be called alluring. The enchantments were nice, but unnecessary. All that was really needed was better materials. Steel, for example, stainless steel would solve all the problems at once. There was no need for Toughen, Rustproof, or Restoration, so he could enchant it with more useful things.

"That's it? What's the price?"

"One shaliun."

Claude nearly lost his lower jaw. His Aubass was far more effective and only cost six crowns. How on earth was this worth a shaliun?

"Too expensive. I'll pay three crowns at most."

"It's an enchanted crossbow. It can't be compared with normal weapons!" Hurian snapped.

"Enchanted, sure, but with three rubbish enchantments. It might be worth a shaliun if it could make its bolts home on a target, or if it was exceedingly accurate, maybe if it was much stronger than a musket. As it is now it's barely more than a nice-looking, durable, normal crossbow. Come to think of it why am I even willing to pay three crowns?"

"Fine, three crowns!" Hurian quickly shut him up.

"How far can it shoot?"

"Ten metres."

"Ten? Are you kidding me?! The bolts?"

"Sold separately."

Claude's jaw fell of for real this time. He stared at the man, jawless, for several long, silent seconds, then put the crossbow back.

"I'll throw in six mithril bolts enchanted with Sharpen!" Hurian crumbled.

"Fine. Damnit, why did I make such a stupid offer?" Claude sighed.

He wasn't happy, but he had to admit he wasn't completely rueful. He could at least experiment on the mithril and try to make steel.

"Everything's packed," Hurian said a few minutes later, "When will you settle the bill?"

Claude reached for his pocket, and froze. He hadn't brought anything with him.

"My original intention wasn't to buy anything today. I wanted to take a look today and come back tomorrow if I found anything worthwhile. If you can hold it for me till tomorrow I'll come pay you then. How much for everything?" Claude said in as calm a voice as he could.

"Are you kidding me?!" Hurian asked, his warm smile vanishing, "You're just here to waste my time!"

"You honestly think I'd bring that much money into a shop I'd never been in? I'm not stupid."

Hurian's face went blank. What Claude said was exactly what he would've done himself.

"Fine, but only for three days. They go back on the shelves if you haven't paid in three days. And then I won't do business with you again."

Claude nodded.

"My teacher is back in three days and I need to finish the array before then, so don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow with the money."

The two parted ways, and Hurian locked up the shop before returning to the mulberry tree.

"What'd he want?" a bearded man asked.

"A few ingredients, much the same list as yours," Hurian answered.

The four sitting around the table exchanged rogue glances. Rogue magi or not, Hurian and they were good acquaintances, if not friends.

"What did he want?" another asked.

"He's done a good job disguising himself, but he oozes inexperience. He's very young; no older than twenty. He has a teacher and this teacher has several other disciples. He's apparently destroyed his teacher's array and needs to make another one before he returns. Do you know of any rogue magi in town with several disciples?"

"None I've heard of."

"Not sure..."

The remaining two shook their heads.

"Whatever. We'll find out in time. He said his teacher was informed of my opening by the capital. We'll interact with them more in the future. He'll at least come buy more materials for his experiments, I know that much for certain."

The bearded man smiled.

"You made a killing tonight, yes? Arrays aren't cheap. I don't have enough savings for one even now--"

"Only killing being done is on your arse! Anyway--" the fat merchant downed his cup of wine, "He didn't bring any money along. He said he'll come pay tomorrow. I can't be sure whether he's lying or not... Agh, whatever. You're leaving tomorrow, yes? Let's drink to your departure, then!"

Chapter 103 - Confrontation on the Road

Claude took a different alley back. Partly because he didn't want to walk down the same dingy alleyway, not that another dingy alleyway was much different, and partly because he couldn't be certain someone wasn't waiting for him, paranoid as that might sound.

He had two options. One headed downtown, a crowded area where he could vanish. Not many walked that way, however, so he could not blend in on the way there and everyone looking would notice his arrival. The other headed to the slum side of the docks. He'd walked the last portion of that route a couple of times before. It was a detour, but worth it for the discretion it offered.

He wondered how he would handle the trade as he walked. He couldn't just walk up to the store with all the money, especially not in shaliun form. The risk of discovery was too great. Not to mention that Hurian, even before this darker side of his trade had been revealed, had never been the most ethical of merchants. He had a greedy side to him, and a penchant for acting on it. Even if he didn't directly rob him or do something else, if he discovered Claude's identity, he might just decide he could make some more out of him.

He had not bought a few things, however, so he couldn't stroll in hidden as he had this time. He knew his own limitations, and, strong as he was for his age, he was still just a teenager. He did not have the strength to haul the bag all the way back home on his own. He couldn't leave the horse and carriage nearby, however, since everyone recognised it instantly. Camouflaged or not, everyone would know who he was the moment they saw him in the carriage.

He certainly couldn't go by day, either. Besides the fact that he was supposed to be in school at that time, just showing up in this particular part of the slums in daylight would rouse suspicions, not to mention doing it hauling a conspicuously-sized sack on his back.

It turned out the biggest problem for him was going to be the one thing he hadn't thought would be one: transportation. He'd expected to struggle to get the items, or to struggle bargaining them down to a reasonable price, but he'd never even thought about the issue of transporting the items back home.

He also had to think about how to make his way home with his purchases. Should he head straight home, or stop by his parents' for dinner? If he did the former, he'd have to hide his excursion from his family or they'd all moan about him coming to town without visiting them. If he stopped by for dinner, however, his father would badger him over coming over for dinner two days in a row and slacking off at work.

He shoved it all out of mind eventually, unable to come up with anything useful, and headed for the lake. The alleyway was almost completely deserted and the one or two people did he come across all vanished into thin air when they saw his getup.

He rounded another corner and came up against a couple of people all but blocking the alleyway in front of the decrepit two story building. The group was actually two groups, each blocking one end of the alleyway while two people in between them, presumably their leaders, were arguing.

His steps slowed, and he approached as quietly as he could. Surprisingly, no one from the buildings on either side of the alleyway were showing any interest or reaction to the argument. The windows were lit with candles, so there definitely were people home.

He stopped and hid himself in a dark recess between two buildings about ten metres behind the nearest group. He listened to the argument for a couple of minutes and built a picture of what was going on.

The slightly larger of the two groups was the Blacksnake gang. The other side was the Shark gang. The smaller group had about five people, a couple of whom were women, while the larger had eight, all male. The men were teasing and pestering the women and badgering the men.

Between the two groups they ruled most of the slum. Blacksnake was mostly ruffians from Windmoon Street and the surrounding alleys. They were mostly involved in racketeering, especially with all the pimps and whores who worked on the street.

The Sharks, on the other hand, were mainly sailors and other dock workers down on their luck, or home between trips out to sea. They handled primarily black trade and smuggling, as well as a small protection racket with the couple of taverns in the harbour.

They were known as the Whitestag moles. The two tumours feeding off the good people from the town. For all their ferocity, however, they didn't have the strength to extend their reach beyond the slums themselves, and didn't have the power to face the town watch, and they knew it. The only reason they'd not yet been wiped out was because they knew to keep to the slums. No one really cared about policing that place, partly because it was a backwater, and partly because policing it was nigh impossible.

The Sharks, for all their propensity for violence, however, tended to be a somewhat more amenable gang. Well, as amenable as a gang of sailors and dockhands could be. They generally kept to themselves as long as the taverns paid their dues and the smugglers kept to their deals. They loved fights, but didn't involve people who didn't look for a fight with them.

The Blacksnakes, however, were far less restrained. They considered themselves more cultured than the Sharks, since they focused on more sensual activities. Their victims didn't have the same opinion, however. The Blacksnakes were notorious for scouring their whores for pleasure and riches, and for frequently upping their demands at the slightest hint of an improvement in a shop's situation. And, while they kept to the slums mostly, run-ins with the town watch were not unheard of. They were the biggest source of crime and violence outside the slums.

They had a backer in the town hall, however, so few in the watch dared become too zealous about teaching the gang its place. Not to mention that the baron, Baron Robert, had this disturbing little hobby of standing up for the gangs.

As for the current argument, it had something to do with the convoy headed for Nubissia. Most of the Sharks gang's top dogs, and their best fighters, were all away with it, including their leader, Ironaxe Hanbas -- who was serving as the escort's overall commander. The town's administration had promised Hanbas they'd ensure peace and the status quo between the two gangs was maintained in his absence. While the Blacksnakes did not fear the Sharks even at full strength -- much less now that they were absent their strongest -- with the local government involved, they had to stay put.

Blacksnake's second lieutenant, Slanteye Kamadi, had been on his way back to Old Sreet with a couple of minions when he bumped into Jerad, Hanbas' brother, who was heading home with his girlfriend. That girlfriend was Kefnie's older sister.

She'd stabbed Kamadi once for grabbing her arse in the tavern where she worked, and he was out for revenge. With Shark's elite missing, Jerad didn't have his usual strength escort, which meant Kamadi had both the numbers and quality advantage.

Kamadi knew better than to start a physical fight, however, since even with Shark in a weakened state, it could still outmatch Blacksnake if all the forces were tallied. A fight with them here would spill out into open war on the streets, and Blacksnake would not come out well. So Kamadi settled for badgering the group to vent his anger some.

Jerad, too, could not afford a physical confrontation. They might win a gang war with Blacksnake, but they'd be left badly wounded and it might just give some of the wannabe gangs enough of a chance to come in and take over while they were licking their wounds. So he kept his men back no matter what the other side did. Kesline was on the edge, however, barely holding back her rage.

The result was a deadlock where neither side was willing to take the final step and end the fight, but neither was either side willing to step down and appear the weaker of the two.

Claude glanced up at the skies. It was probably about nine in the evening. Damnit, if they were going to fight, then fight, if not, then feck off! He had places to be!

He watched them for another minute or so, then sighed, and stepped out of the shadows.

Chapter 104 - Taking Action

A dilemma referred to one of two superficially similar yet fundamentally different situations. An inability to make a choice, or facing dire consequences no matter which option is chosen.

The latter definition felt like the more applicable to Claude at the moment.

On the one hand, he could turn around and leave as he'd come. If he did that, however, he would find himself back at the intersection. Only the slightest question would reveal the reason for his return, and Hurian might just decide he was not worthy of trading at the black market. Or he might decide Claude was weak enough to be exploited further. Worst of all, his apparent weakness might give others thoughts of taking his wealth for themselves by force, since if he was too weak to take on a few thugs, how could be possibly be strong enough to face off against other magi?

His other choice was to confront the thugs head on. They might recognise him, and thereby his backing, and let him pass unobstructed. They might not, however. A fight would be unwelcome, and would most likely force him to use his spells to get out, which would end everything for him. Even if they did not obstruct his path, his mere presence would raise uncomfortable questions.

He couldn't decide which of the three options were worse. One question might suggest he was there for the sensual entertainments of Windmoon Street. That would destroy his character in town and ruin any future he might have had in higher society. The other might suggest he was involved in less savoury activities involving the gangs themselves. The outcome thereof would be much the same as the first. The third, while far less destructive to his public persona, was no less damaging to his personal standing. His father might come to learn of it and question his presence, to which he would have no choice but to admit his going to Hurian's shop. Even if nothing further came of his father explaining his presence in the slums using his answer, Hurian or any of the other presences in that clearing might still put his identity to his mask.

His head pulsed violently. He had started the evening on a leisurely shopping trip. Now he faced a choice which risked, in the most serious and devastating manner possible, his entire future. The fight itself had nothing to do with him, but it still put him in a most precarious position.

The thought of confronting them, mask still on, flitted through his mind for a moment, but it was an even worse choice than just walking through it without it. The chance they would let him through unmolested was all but non-existent.

At the very least, however, masked, he would not need to hold back as much and could take care of them easily. He had half a mind to do walk up to them as is for that very reason. He had nothing that could be called a good impression of them, and he didn't mind -- even half anticipated -- giving them a thorough beating.

His absent-minded eyes wandered to the sky, and he saw the moon dancing silverly between the cotton clouds. It was not a full moon, however, and its waned blade cast little light on the slit of alleyway it could reach through the canopy of roofs. It was hard enough to see the silhouettes of the gangs in the dim illumination of the candles. If he kept to the shadowed corners of the alley, he might as well be invisible. No one would see him using his spells.

His worst fears somewhat calmed, his mind started racing at the thought of testing some of his spells on humans. He'd been anxious to test them out on humans, but he'd yet to find candidates worthy. Now, he had.

His choice made, the boy slithered along the side of the alley, hugging the dark, unlit walls.

"Move aside. Don't block my way," he groaned hoarsely when he was a few metres from the back of the nearest group.

The argument had died down somewhat while Claude had been pondering his options. Both sides were parched and soar-throated and the fight was just a few minutes away from dispersing when this new voice joined the fray. A crow-like voice burst out dryly from the rear of the group.

"Ah, isn't this nice? First we run into these dimwits, now we have a friend here with a death wish!" he shouted.

The reed-like man shoved a claw at Claude's shawl, but the boy was too fast for him.

"So a fight it is," Claude murmured as he shoved the man's hand upwards at an unnatural angle.

The man screamed.

He was an experienced fighter, however, and reacted almost as soon as the snap of a finger dislocating burst out of his hand. His other hand grabbed the dangling finger and shoved it back into socket as a foot flew up in the general direction of Claude's chin. It missed, but the man was already coming again.

His head lowered, aiming for Claude's sternum, but connected with a knee instead.

The stringless doll collapsed without another word. Claude's foot came down, slamming into the back of the man's head with an audible crack. Blood quickly pooled under the man's face, oozing out of a smushed hole where once there had been a nose.

Few others had had time to turn their gazes to him, even fewer had registered what had happened. The fight beyond the first group stopped and more eyes darted uneasily in Claude's direction.

Confusion gave way quickly to anger, however, and soon every was charging at the boy.

"I'm gonna crush yer bones! Just you wait and see! I'll make a curry paste out'o ya!"

Claude's feet moved calmly, but rapidly, carrying him backwards in an attempt to maintain the distance between them. His pursuers darted forward with even more gusto when they realised what he was doing.

"Ya damned arse, don't run! I won't leave until I give ya a sound beating!"

A fist flew his way, but ran out of arm just a centimetre from the tip of his nose. Claude shoved himself to the side, into the nearest wall, putting his first attacker between him and the nearest other enemy. His one hand snaked around the retreating fist, yanked it down, and the man with it, and his other elbow connected with the man's solar plexus.

From behind it still looked like Claude was the one in trouble, so the rest continued forward without reserve, thought, or defence.

The man continued his fall, all strength having left him, his face red, and collapsed to the ground.

His oblivious friends could not stop themselves in time, and ran into Claude again.

"Hold him down hold hi--!" the next enemy, a burly man of huge build, but his words were cut short, and morphed into a terrorised screech of utter disbelief mixed with abject agony as he felt his children die before birth.

Those watching the fight and preceding argument from their windows winced in unison, and the man collapsed.

Kamadi's attention was finally wholly drawn from Jerad. He shoved two men aside and faced Claude head-on.

"Who are you?! What do you want?!"

Claude shrugged.

"Just passing by. I asked them to make way, but they came at me instead. I just taught them a little lesson about respect, that's all."

Behind his calm facade, his mind was racing. Not out of fear of what was a dangerous predicament, but at bewilderment and wonder at how easily he'd taken care of some of the toughest men in town. He had had harder fights in school.

There were still five enemies left, if the Sharks didn't get involved, but Claude was more than ready for them.

Chapter 105 - Weapons and Spells

"You? A passerby? Stop joking!" Kamadi snapped, pointing at Jerad and his companions, "You must be a bodyguard! You're really something!" he shouted at Jerad, "You can't face us yourself so you hire an outsider to fight for you! And as for you--" his gaze returned to Claude, "--Do you think I can't find you with that disguise? Show me what little punk you are so I know where to stab you!"

"I told you the truth. It's your problem if you won't believe it. I've only defended myself. You don't really expect me to be a punching bag, do you? If so, you're dumber than I thought. And take your paranoia somewhere else. Are you going to let me through, or am I going to have to beat you up as well?"

Kamadi's grey irises darted between the new arrival and his enemies several times before he finally sighed. Those four were just as shocked by this man's arrival as he was. It was obvious this stranger wasn't with them.

But why would he appear at this moment? It was too grand a coincidence to be that. Why didn't he turn around and leave the moment he saw them? No traveller would confront two gangs in the middle of a fight. Something was wrong, he might not be in cahoots with the Sharks, but something was wrong.

Minds looking for answers had a propensity to fill blanks in with their wild conjectures, and Kamadi was a professional. Obviously he must have been hired by someone. For what reason, he might not know, but it could not be good for Blacksnake. There was no other explanation for why he would attack his men out of the blue.

That conclusion didn't help matters at all, since Kamadi was still furious at the government for siding with the Sharks in their last confrontation and forcing this peace on Blacksnake when now was the perfect opportunity to wipe the slate clean. His men were of the same mind. Now was the chance to get rid of this nuisance once and for all. For all its ambitions and boasts, however, everyone in the gang knew they didn't have the strength to go against the town watch. But their hatred for the Sharks went deeper than even their fear of the town watch.

They'd secretly set up a plan to wipe their enemies out in their leader's absent. They were going to sweep through the docks and wipe out every bit of territory their enemies controlled. Even Hanbas could not run a gang without a territory from which to earn money. The gang would have dispersed and that would have been the end of it... for the time being.

Their plans, however, relied on the town watch standing by idly. They stood no chance of success if the town watch got involved. And that's exactly what they'd done. Now the plan was in shambles and they'd been forced to watch this opportunity sail by, quite literally.

The leaders obviously put on a show for their egos. They'd really been told to sit down and shut up by the real bigshots in town. But to their subordinates and gankies they had instead chosen to give face to a government on its knees, begging them not to get involved in such matters.

Whatever the truth of the matter, peace was upheld, or at least it had been upheld successfully thus far. For all the leadership's stories, Kamadi was high up enough on the ladder to know the true story. The government wasn't joking when they'd said they would wipe the town clean of them if they caused trouble. They had the mayor's backing in secret, but even he could not step in when the entire cabinet of elites was in unanimous agreement.

That whole story had flashed through Kamadi's brain several times since this confrontation had begun, and it had kept him from starting a physical fight. That said, he'd not expected to run into that whore and her cuck. How could he give up such a chance? He'd tried to provoke the other side into starting the fight so he could claim self-defence, but for all his weakness, that bastard Jerad had a cool head on his shoulders. He didn't let his men start the fight. Now this damned outsider had shown up and ruined everything.

Did this bastard really think Kamadi didn't know he was from town hall? He sighed after a long moment, however, and his shoulder slumped. Fine, he'd play along for today. He wouldn't make more trouble for those Shark bastards tonight, but he damn well would teach this outsider a bloody lesson!

If he was going to insist he had no connection with town hall, then they'd treat him like that was true and beat the holy shit out of him.

He smiled sinisterly at the thought and took a step forward.

"You would have been free to leave if you hadn't hurt my men. No one does that, so now I'm going to have to claim damages."

The robed figure didn't react at all.

"What sort of damages?"

Kamadi's men already knew what he had in mind, and surrounded the robed figure as the two spoke.

"A hand and a leg," Kamadi grinned savagely.

"Just 'cause you say so?" the robed man asked as if talking to a child.

Claude didn't mind a little fight. He had already taken down three, another five wouldn't be much harder. His eyes flared, however, when he saw daggers gleaming in his opponents' hands and he quickly retreated. He could handle five unarmed opponents, but weapons changed the equation entirely. 'No matter one's skill with the fist, one must always be weary of the knife," as the saying went.

He couldn't turn and run, however. Exposing his back would be the last mistake of his life. His only option was to retreat slowly, keeping his front facing his opponents so he could block and retaliate against their attacks.

It was slower than he would have liked, but still faster than his opponents had expected. The old street was a maze of puddles and potholes, so it wasn't a simple thing to move quickly in the dark, even without having to keep half an eye on a number of enemies, so how was this robed man doing it?

"Get him!" Kamadi yelled a moment later, "Don't let him escape! I want to both his legs!"

About ten seconds into the chase, the closest two of Claude's pursuers were about five metres behind him. Claude's hand waved and four projectiles burst from his palm.

"Acck!"

"Ooooof!"

The first two collapsed a moment later in gasps and screams. One was struck twice, once in the thigh and once in the neck. His cry was more a gurgle than anything else as he rolled between puddles and clutched the places that hurt. The other was struck in the stomach and he was hunched with his hands on his stomach while he gasped for breath, which wasn't strange to see, considering how the power of Magic Missile was more or less akin to his musket in his tests.

While happy at the result of his first combat cast, he wasn't happy with his accuracy. It was all over the place, he was lucky he'd scored any hits at all. If not that he had some control over how the orbs flew, he would have missed with all of them.

He didn't stop to scold himself, however. His first priority was getting out of the alley alive, so he kept going. Luckily for him, the sudden attack stunned the three remaining pursuers, who paused just long enough for him to get out from under them. He only pulled back about seven metres so he'd have enough time to react when they started charging again and could hit them at his full five-metre distance. At the same time, he readied his counterattack.

Chapter 106 - Wrapped Up and Dealth With

Had the two men continued their advance, Claude would have continued to throw out projectiles. They'd not, however. Instead, they'd stopped to check on the first two, which gave Claude time to evaluate the situation and change his strategy accordingly.

He felt a sudden urge to test out Mental Shock. He'd been wanting to test it on humans for the longest time, and now was his chance.

"Bang!"

Claude whispered as he focused on the tall, dark man on the right.

"Ugh..."

The target swayed one, then slumped against the wall behind him, though still on his feet.

"Bang!" Claude barked again.

The target's head slumped to his chest for a moment and he turned around, as if trying to figure out where he was. He dropped his weapon and started giggling mindlessly.

His companion stared at him, shocked. It only took him a moment to decide the masked bastard must have done something. He turned to Claude, and charged. He roared as he slithered along the ground, blade-tip dashing for Claude's heart.

Claude was caught off-guard and the man was on him before he could launch a projectile.

"Bang!" he barked for the third time.

The world spun for the man suddenly and his eyes glossed over. It lasted only half a moment, though, before he cleared his mind forcefully and refocused his intention on his target.

"Bang!" the words echoed again as Claude started lunging to one side to try and get out of the knife's way.

The man's knees gave way, but even as he lost his footing, his arms steadfastly guided his knife at Claude's chest. Claude's instincts took over. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisted, and shoved everything back.

The blade vanished into the man's stomach with a wretched squelch Claude had never heard before.

"Ugh!"

The man would have yelled, but his senses had all but left him from the two mental attacks, so instead he just grunted involuntarily. His hands went to his gut instinctively, and he clutched the knife embedded in his stomach. His eyes lifted to the masked man in disbelief, then he collapsed.

Claude wiped the sweat from his forehead. That had been too close. He'd let himself be put in the weakest possible position. He should know better!

The remaining man was busy steadying himself, hands buried in the muddied floor as he grabbed for holdfasts.

Well, that confirmed Mental Shock worked on humans pretty well. Claude smiled sadistically.

One spell was enough against big animals, but it turned out humans were more resilient. It turned out his nickname for, stick-to-the-head, might not be quite as appropriate as he'd thought. If that were really how it worked, then it shouldn't have taken two hits to take out the thugs if it only took one to knock out much stronger animals. He supposed it might have to do with the intelligence of the target, but now was not the time for conjecture.

The dark man's hands found his weapon again, and he started struggling back to his feet against the wall.

"Bang!" Claude barked one more time, and the man fell to the ground again.

He didn't try to get up again this time. He just lay on the ground as he'd fallen, giggling like a boy who'd just heard a naughty joke.

The thought sprung up in Claude's mind again. Maybe it really had something to do with the target's intelligence. Animals were stupider than people, even those much bigger and stronger than a man had maybe half his intelligence, likely even less. Maybe that was why this spell had such inconsistent results along other metrics. In that sense it still was a stick to the head, but a mana stick to the person's consciousness, not his physical head.

Claude 'banged' the man twice more just to be sure he wouldn't get back up again. And smiled happily when he heard gurgling noises like a baby burping from him. Kamadi was now the only one left. Claude snickered at the thought and stepped towards the third-in-command.

Kamadi stared at the scene. He could feel the edges of his sanity beginning to fray. He'd held the advantage, definitively, just moments ago, but now his men were on the ground, giggling like buffoons. He blinked, and a chill grasped his bones like he'd never felt before. It darted along his marrows and strung him up like a snake.

What the--?

His words were cut short by his disbelief. He'd hired the best men he knew as his bodyguards. They were second only to the gang leader himself, so how had they fallen so easily? He'd not panicked when the first three went down one after the other, for he still had those two, the best in the gang. But when they started falling, his blood ran cold in his veins.

His body, unable to move thanks to the snake clasping his bones, started shivering, like a puppet master was dangling iron chains they clattered together, his teeth foremost of all. He raised his dagger, pointing the tip at the masked man.

"Don't... don't come closer..."

"No need. You come to me," the man's hoarse voice rang again.

His teeth clattered even worse. He jerked himself back to reality and threw his dagger at the man, turned, and vanished in a shower of shit and toilet water.

"Damn you!" Claude shouted, dodging the dagger.

His feet started moving to give chase, but stopped when he heard a deep thud behind him. When he turned around he saw the hilt sticking out of the dark man. He continued to gurgle like before, but now dark blood joined spittle at the edges of his mouth.

That was his boss's fault, Claude insisted, trying to absolve himself of the man's death.

"Hehe, you wanna run? Come now coward, I'm not letting you get away!" he shouted.

Two projectiles darted out of his hand and slammed into Kamadi's knees at the very edge of their range. The knees gave way and Kamadi planted his face in the grime. The man rolled back and forth on the ground, clutching his shattered knees despite the pain wracking his face.

"Go on. Run," the masked man sneered.

Kamadi didn't even try. He could feel two holes in his legs. His knees were all but gone. He'd never walk again.

The masked man loomed over him for several moments. Kamadi was certain he would finish the job, almost hoped he would; relieve him of this misery. But no. The man only snorted contemptuously, and turned to walk away.

Kamadi saw only red. His entire being pressed into a single sliver of hatred so bright even a blind man could have seen it. Was he not even worth killing? F*ck that bastard! He would make him take him serious even if it was the last thing he did! He reached for a small knife hidden in his boot, drew it, and launched himself with strength he never knew he had at the bastard.

"I like your spirit! That's what gangsters should be like!" the bastard answered.

Was he, happy that Kamadi was attacking him? He sounded like he'd been waiting for this, like finally the game was becoming interesting. Damn him!

But whatever energy Kamadi's hatred might give him, he was still no match for Claude. The latter took a step to the side and Kamadi's knife missed him. He reached out and caught the man's wrist and began pummelling him with his feet, one after the other. Several hit, and the man, his body robbed of all life, dropped the knife.

Claude smiled and let go of his wrist, stomping on it as hard as he could when it hit the ground. It cracked, and several bits of bone punched through the skin. Kamadi didn't even yell, he just stared up at his assailant, his eyes begging for release.

"We must pull out the roots when ridding the world of evil, lest it just grow back," the masked man said, bringing his foot down on Kamadi's other wrist.

"Ridding the world of evil? You're--- aaaaaaggghh!" Kamadi bellowed instinctively.

"Too loud," the masked man said, and a foot connected with Kamadi's chin.

The world turned dark immediately, but Kamadi's last moments were still enough for him to feel a bit of his tongue rolling around loosely in his mouth, bitten off, then everything ended.

"All wrapped up and dealt with," Claude said cheerfully as he dusted his hands and whistled happily.

Jerad and his group had long since vanished into the building. They didn't want to wait outside and find out if the masked man had a bone to pick with them as well. They couldn't quite shake their morbid curiosity, however, and were staring at the garish scene through the ground floor's windows.

Several of the building's other occupants had since joined them. Kefnie, who'd been waiting for her older sister, had been the first. They watched him finish up Kamadi, then walk by, whistling.

"So cruel..." Kesline muttered.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"What do we do now?" one of Jerad's men asked.

"Report this to Blacksnake immediately. We mustn't let them think we were the ones that did this. Go tell ours as well, we need some backup in case this goes south anyway. Everyone else come with me. We need to help them. Blacksnake won't take kindly to us if we aren't seen to be helping their men," Jerad answered.

He took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. He didn't like having to help those bastards, but if he wanted to come out of this in one piece, he'd best treat them like his brothers.

Chapter 107 - Discussion

Claude disappeared without much effort. He was ecstatic after his first real engagement using magic and he couldn't be bothered to worry over trivial things such as messes he'd made during it. Besides, he was certain the normal humans would figure something out.

The buildings along the alley's windows were all soon lit as people watched the confrontation between an army of the two gangs cautiously from their upper floor windows. Luckily the two gang's acting commanders arrived in time to prevent an all-out brawl.

Jerad explained the situation to both sides multiple times. Kesline and Kefnie hid in their rooms the whole time. Neither child cared for the fact the Blacksnake thugs that had faced that masked man.

They were more intrigued by the result of the fight than the fight itself as well. Eight elite Blacksnake brawlers were done in by a single masked man. They were all but badly injured, and that one who looked like he was their leader might not even survive. Jerad had sprung into action without hesitation, if he hadn't more might be at death's door. Blacksnake's leader saw his earnest effort, and his cooler head prevailed. He had his men charge any buildings with a view to drag out witnesses that might corroborate the man's story, however.

Earnest or not, he was still a Shark, so his word was suspect. Not to mention how outlandish his story was.

"Did you really not hear a gunshot?" someone asked for the nth time.

"No. We didn't see a gun with the man either. He was completely unarmed." Jerad answered yet again.

"Impossible... They were clearly injured by musketshot! Only rounds make those kinds of holes!"

"Enough, we've asked them this enough times already," someone else interrupted, "Everyone else say the same. Besides, they might be Sharks--" the word came out like an insult, "--but even they wouldn't stoop that low. And I know the people he had with him tonight could never have defeated them in a fair fight."

The first man pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Fine. Thanks for taking care of their wound. You may go."

He watched the Shark leave, then took out a small piece of paper and called a couple minions over. He barked a few words to one of them, handed him the paper, and watched him disappear as well.

The minion returned half an hour later, Hurian in tow. The Blacksnake lieutenant waved his minion away and asked Hurian to check on the wounded and dying.

Hurian circled the spot where the fight took place a couple of times after finishing his inspection of the bodies, then told the lieutenant something before leaving. The lieutenant stared at his back while Hurian left, then told his men to get lost with the bodies.

"Aren't we going after the bastard who did this?" asked one of the other lieutenants.

"We can't." The first answered in a whisper, plainly, "Those weren't cause by rounds--" He pointed at the holes in the men's bodies as they were carried away. "They're made by spells. Third's luck was horrible. He actually blocked a magus' path. Makes sense when you think about it. Who in this town but a magus could so calmly tell our men to f*ck off?"

"They fought a magus?"

"Yes. I don't know why his brain stopped working tonight, but he's a fool for crossing a magus. I just hope his stupidity doesn't cause trouble for us as well. Tell the men to be damn careful about who they cross for the time being. I've heard more than once that magi are petty bastards. They don't forget a grudge."

The minions cleaned up the scene like they were professional cleaners, and melted away into the dark alleys. The onlookers were more surprised by that than by the fight. The Blacksnakes were bombastic bastards that took any chance they could to extort and rob people. Something like this was a golden opportunity for them to empty out the alley's buildings. But they'd just left?

Hurian's companions were waiting for him when he returned. They'd been just about to disperse for the evening when the minion had come calling, so they'd waited for his return. They had a dozen questions for him when they saw his expression.

"...He's too cruel," Hurian said at the end of his short narrative, "He's young, but he really is ruthless. Two of the thugs were dead when I arrived, two more won't last the night, and the other four will all likely be crippled for life. Magi that cruel are rare these days. I just hope tomorrow's trade goes off without a hitch. The apple falls under the tree, so if he's like this at his age, just imagine how bad his teacher must be. Maybe I should ask my contacts in the capital if they know anyone like that. I don't like the thought of a nest of magi thugs in town..."

One of the oldest in the group laughed.

"What are you worried about? You have the magic black market's backing. I doubt even someone as cruel and unrestrained as that boy, or his master, would offend you without thinking it over a couple of times. A rogue magus like one of us might be in trouble for just looking at one of them wrong, but you're not a drifting feather. Didn't the kid say he learned about the place from his teacher in the capital? If he is connected enough to know about a new black market branch so quickly, he must know when to strike and when to be polite. I don't think you have that much to worry about."

"Sook is right," another smiled, "You should be more confident, my friend. I have to say though, I quite admire that young masked magus. Those thugs only know and only respect ruthless. He knew exactly how to handle them. We scholarly types may have a long and illustrious history, but that doesn't track well with these brutal types. And unfortunately it's the brutal types that rule the world at the moment. Ah, I wonder sometimes what it would have been like if the battlemagi's legacy wasn't lost during the war."

Another old magus, this one wearing a black robe, laughed.

"Stop pining for what is lost, Teacher Bajee. Magic has had its day, and that day has passed. We can't bring back the past. Besides, not even the strongest battlemagus on record could stand against musketfire. Besides, don't we remain rogue magi so we can do our research without all that hullabaloo in the capital? If not, we would just have registered when we were discovered."

"Ptooey! Who wants to be a registered magus?!" Sook spat, "They aren't even real magi. They're just a bunch of starved dogs begging for scraps from their masters with entertaining tricks. They have no other worth!"

"Don't get so riled up, Sook," Hurian interjected, "Registered magi aren't real magi. We all know that. They're clowns, pets kept for entertainment, nothing more. If they were real magi, and if they were treated like that by their masters, the magic black market wouldn't exist. Well, I guess that's not entirely true, since we don't exist for them at all. The market is for true magi, not those wannabes. Come, one last toast. To true magi!"

"To true magi!"

The group downed their last glasses of ale.

Another in the group, a large, bearded man, spoke up, slamming his cup on the table somewhat crudely.

"You said the spell he used was Magic Missile? Any traces of other combat spells?"

"No--" Hurian shook his head. "--I only found traces of Magic Missile. I double checked every wound on everybody, but found nothing else. He should only know that one combat spell. Though..." His eyes fogged over in thought. "...only three were injured with it. The rest were taken out with physical strikes. He must be an expert at unarmed physical combat. He most likely specialises in physical combat and only uses magic as a backup or support.

"It's pretty rare for him to have Magic Missile alone, though. I know of less than ten such spells passed down secretly among our kin. He must have incredible luck to have learned one of them. Maybe that's why he's so brazen? He's still young. He probably hasn't met someone who's outdone him yet, hasn't been given a good beating before, so he doesn't know the limits of his strength and where he is on the ladder. He didn't even think about what might happen if the Watch finds out about this. If he isn't just killed outright, he won't have a single day's peace, captured or not."

"The young are always arrogant, it's in their blood. You were like that when you were his age as well," the bearded man said, "We've suffered much since and learned wisdom. We know better than to go around beating people up with forbidden spells. He reminds me of myself when I was younger as well. Ah, those were the days...

"Anyway, it's rare enough for us to get together like this. We're really too busy for our own good. Speaking of which, I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't know when I'll be back, so let me steal a bit more ale for another toast, Hurian! May we have many more stories to tell when next we meet!"

The group toasted with the ale from another opened cask.

Chapter 108 - Excuse for Lateness

"Eyke, are you going to fish with Wero tonight?" Claude asked at school the next day.

The 10th month was coming to an end, but Captain Altroni and the fleet had yet to return. Eriksson was becoming more and more anxious and he kept complaining about lack of good sleep. He nowadays often dragged Welikro out onto the lake to fish in hopes he passed out from exhaustion.

"Yeah. You know I can only sleep on the boat these days. I keep getting nightmares when I sleep at home," Eriksson muttered, energy-less.

"It's fine. Your dad should be back in a couple more days," Claude said for the umpteenth time.

"Boa's been getting more involved with the family business, and you've been getting stuck in that wood of yours. The four of us hardly spend time together anymore. And we'll graduate and go our separate ways in just another twenty-odd days. Time really flies... It feels like just yesterday we were still pulling each other's hair as toddlers..." Eriksson's eyes glassed over as his mind sank back into old memories.

"Sigh. That's life, I'm afraid. It's not like we can just stop ourselves from growing up. Everyone goes through it. But I don't think we won't ever meet up again. How about this, I'll see if I can get a night or two loose to come fish with you?" Claude offered.

"Alright. Tonight, if you can. We'll wait until eight."

"Great. The wood's been unsettled for a couple of days now and we've lost one or two chickens in the coop. No one knows how. We've checked the fences but there are no holes, not even any sign anything's been testing it. I'm going to set a couple traps this afternoon to see if I can't catch whatever's taking them. I'll come over if I finish in time."

Eriksson wagged his thumb at Claude and dropped his head back onto his desk. They were both actually trying to catch up on some sleep.

Welikro was in dreamland already on the other side of Eriksson. Strangely, fishing had the opposite effect on the two boys. Eriksson got tired from it, but Welikro's energy levels went through the roof. He often stayed up the whole night when Eriksson took him out on the lake. That energy vanished once he got to school, however, so he often spent the whole next day asleep.

"What's up with the wood?" Borkal asked from the other side of Claude.

"I don't know, probably nothing, really. It's just we've lost a couple of chickens from the coop on the wood's edge. It's probably a fox, a wolverine, or an owl. Most likely an owl given that we haven't found any holes or testing spots on the fence and no footprints either. I'm going to set up a couple traps this afternoon. If I don't catch anything for a couple of nights, I'll camp out and shoot the thing myself."

"Too bad I don't have any time these days. I'd love to go hunting with you," Borkal sighed, "My dad gave me tons of work. I'm so damn busy these days I actually look forward to school. Can you believe that? School's become my calm place... Ugh, I really want to get together with everyone one more time before we graduate..."

Claude smiled at him bitterly.

"Yeah, hardly any time left until graduation. Can't believe we'll be adults in just another month and a bit. We can't be carefree and worriless anymore. And don't feel too bad, you're only a bit ahead of us. Come next year we'll all have our fair share of worries to deal with. Your dad's just giving you good training so you don't struggle to swim as much when he throws you in the deep end next year."

Borkal didn't respond. He understood the theory, but he didn't like being the subject to which it was applied. He scolded his younger self from a couple month ago for wishing his childhood away so he could become a merchant. That naïve little kid knew nothing about all the hard work involved in becoming a successful merchant.

Claude headed home after school. He only stopped by the villa long enough to change out of his uniform, then darted off to the coop. The Sioris were busy digging a small ditch around the coop's fenced yard. No one expected it to do a lot for the chickens, but they couldn't handle just sitting around doing nothing.

"Here, over here!" the old man said as he drew Claude to one end of the fence.

He pointed at a spot in the corner, and Claude saw the paw marks in the ground, half hidden under wet, late autumn leaves.

"We found the chicken feather stuck in the fence. Whatever it was must have pushed the planks apart here and gotten in. We found it only thanks to the feathers stuck between the planks. Those two planks are a little loose, so they flop back down once it's through."

Claude inspected the planks and saw the rusted lower nail on each plank had rusted through. Those two planks were hanging like curtains. A fox or wolverine could just push them aside and get in, catch a chicken and drag it out. The planks would flop down into their normal position once it was through, so as long as no one noticed its tracks, which the fallen leaves hid nicely, no one would know there was a spot for it to come through here. If not for the feathers it had left behind last night, they'd still not know.

"I'll fix it tonight and finish the moat," the old man said.

Claude shook his head.

"It ought to be a fox. Those things are crafty. Fixing the fence should make the chickens safe again for a while, but the moat is just a waste of energy. It'll just swing across, and it'll only be a matter of time before it finds or makes another way in. Our best choice is to get a couple of guard dogs."

"That'll have to wait until later though," Siori replied, "The good breeds are expensive and not reared in or around Whitestag. We'll have to go to the prefectural capital to get them."

Truth be told, the Sioris weren't cut out to be groundskeepers. They were too busy with their farm. The only time they really patrolled the estate was to pick berries and herbs. The most they managed to do for the estate on a regular basis was sweep out the manor every couple of weeks, and look after the two horses. The normal, day-to-day care only really got done now that Claude had taken over. He'd originally left everything to the two, thinking he would be mostly just Maria's representative to be consulted every now and again, but he quickly realised he was going to have to do most of the keeping himself.

They'd lost too many chickens lately. The couple was so desperate to put an end to this they were about to move into the coop with the chickens.

"You can stop digging the moat. Spend the time digging a couple pitfalls instead. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and catch the thief in one."

Claude wasn't as concerned about the coop situation as the Sioris. It was not his mistress' property, so he was not responsible for it, so he only offered some advice in passing.

Siori nodded and started filling the ditch in again. Claude brought him up to speed on his latest patrol while the man worked. The briefing concerned mostly things like where ripe mushrooms had sprung up since they'd last harvested, what the state of the stream was where deadwood was concerned, and so on.

He left the couple to their work once his briefing was done and headed for the laboratory. He set a few traps once the Sioris were done, made a simple dinner, then headed back to town. He was not going to meet up with Eriksson and Welikro, however. HIs target was Hurian's shop.

He brought a few more offensive tools and his money this time. He had handled the previous night's unforeseen encounter well, but he had no intention of being as unprepared ever again. Unfortunately he didn't have a suitable dagger. Welikro was far better equipped than he in that regard. That boy bought something sharp every chance he got. Though most had such unpractical designs Claude doubted they could be used in actual combat at all.

Well, he did have one dagger, now he thought about it. He had that black iron dagger. He had yet to figure out what its enchantment was, though. It was still better than nothing, he had guessed, so he had brought it along, tugged away snuggly in his one boot.

He took Jemmy and the carriage. He would much have preferred to go on foot for the anonymity it offered, but he could not carry everything back on his own, so the carriage just had to go. He took the smallest, most roundabout way he could, however -- no point in making it too easy for whoever wanted to find out whom he was. He eventually came to the Eriksson's family docks.

He'd suggested to go fishing with them that night so he would have an excuse for leaving his carriage there for a while, but made sure to arrive after their cut-off time so they would already be gone.

He left the estate at around half-past eight, and took forty minutes to get to the jetty. And indeed, the two were long gone. Pegg was the one to break the 'bad news' to him.

"Sorry, Uncle Pegg," Claude sighed, "I was kept busy longer than I'd expected. I might still have made it in time, but one of the carriage's wheels came loose halfway to town and I had to stop to fix it. It's okay, I knew I would be too late as soon as I felt the wheel come loose. Can I leave the carriage here for a while? Since I'm here, I might as well take a walk along the shore. I might even run into them and end up fishing with them for the night, anyway."

Pegg checked the carriage reflexively, his trained instincts not letting him take what people said at face value and verify everything himself. Indeed, one of the wheels was slightly ill-aligned and covered in dirt. Wheels didn't come of regularly, but it wasn't an exceedingly uncommon thing either. It happened mostly when the wooden pegs holding the wheel on the axle broke from wear or a sudden shock, letting the wheel come loose. Most people always had spares and the tools to make such a repair on hand at all times. It was a simple repair, after all. As long as you had a spare peg you just shoved the wheel back in place and hammered the replacement peg in.

"Alright. I'll keep an eye on it. When do you expect to be back if you don't find them?" Pegg asked.

"An hour or so."

"Need a lantern?"

"No, I'm fine. The moon is almost full tonight and I don't see any clouds. A light will hamper my sight instead of help. I brought a couple flares; I'll just light one if I see the ship. Thanks, though."

Claude grabbed his small pack and headed for the slums along the shore. He'd taken off and stashed his disguise in a small grove on a knoll just outside of town on the slum's side. He retraced his steps to it, found his disguise, and got dressed up.

Nobody was in the alley that night. While the nights weren't outright cold yet, they were thoroughly chilly, and nobody wanted to open doors and let out heat unnecessarily in shacks and shoddy buildings already leaked too much of it through cracks, gaps, and holes. The slums had it even worse since they sat in the gully between a line of knolls which acted like a wind tunnel and drew in the worst of the cold night breeze -- which was obviously why the respectable part of town hadn't been built there before the slum had sprung up.

He arrived at Hurian's shop about twenty minutes after leaving his carriage.

Chapter 109 - Two Spell Scrolls

"...six fire crystals, one catty of skystar dust and one box of whiteroot powder, a bottle of crimsonblood dew, six magistone tablets, one enchanted crossbow, and six enchanted bolts. Everything's ready, please check."

Hurian had been waiting for Claude in the shop all night. He brought him to the secret room immediately, cast Luminous Pearl, and took out a goatskin sack with everything inside.

Claude checked everything carefully, then nodded. He took out a common linen pouch and put it on the counter.

"Count. Everything should be there."

Hurian counted each slowly, and all 21 shaliuns were present.

"You should've gotten a better pouch. At least use a deerskin one, anything less is too cheap compared to the money inside."

Claude snorted humorously but didn't comment. Did he think Claude was stupid? Leatherwork pouches were always branded by their makers. He would be leaving a breadcrumb by which Hurian could find out who he was.

The linen cloth was unmarked. It was a cheap, common accessory of which no one took note. There would be no tracking him down from it. Not to mention Claude didn't feel like throwing away the money a leatherwork pouch would cost.

Hurian smiled gingerly.

"Want me to pack them? I can give you that deerskin sack if you want."

"No need, thanks," Claude shook his head as he took out a bag of his own, "I brought my own."

The most important thing was to remain vigilant. Who knew what the old fattie might have done to the sack. There might just be something in or on it that made it possible for him to track Claude. Nothing was given for no money if there wasn't some other cost, and his anonymity was too precious.

"I have no ill intentions," Hurian chuckled a couple awkward snorts, watching Claude's backpack.

The backpack, like the pouch he'd given Hurian, was a simple, common, untraceable item.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

Hurian opened the pouch and put two shaliuns on the counter, gesturing for Claude to keep them.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"We have an unwritten rule in the magic black market. Any sale over ten shaliuns gets a one-tenth discount. Only for the customers we like, of course," Hurian smiled the most sincere smile he could manage.

"That all?" Claude asked, playing around with the two coins.

"Hehe--' Hurian's eyes followed the coins almost instinctively. "--Well, I do have a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Ask. I'll decide whether to answer them after I've heard them."

"Was that business with Blacksnake last night your doing?"

"It was. They wouldn't let me pass, so I made them get out of the way."

"Aren't you worried word of this will reach the Watch?"

"No. My teacher will have little trouble dealing with it," Claude smiled fearlessly.

He'd known this lot would find out sooner or later, though he would have preferred if it hadn't until after he'd bought his stuff and left. Then again, the two shaliuns in his hand now showed it had not turned out very badly. Fear made for a great teacher of manners.

The bastard! Claude had just known the old fart had given him bogus prices!

"Since your teacher has an array, I suspect he will need a steady stream of supplies? We would be partial to helping out with that on a more permanent basis." Hurian finally revealed.

Claude shook his head.

"I will be frank, sir. Most of the stuff in here is too expensive. Normal mages might not be able to afford to go to the capital every now and again, but my teacher does so anyway, so he might as well buy everything when he heads there."

"Hehe, well, we have to be more careful with our first trades after all. The next time you give your patronage, I promise you'll be charged according to the capital's prices. If you buy in bulk, you'll even get some discounts," Hurian smiled.

"That's a matter for another day. Whether we need any other materials is up to my teacher to decide when he returns. What I have to do now is to swap the alchemical formation array I ruined for a new one quick so that I don't get punished. But if you can promise good prices, I can put in a word with my teacher. The decision's still up to him though." Claude made it sound like he really had one.

But Hurian looked like he didn't doubt it one bit.

"Haha, why of course. It's up to your teacher whether he wants to buy from us. However, I will definitely appreciate the good word you put in for us. I won't forget your help the next time you come to me."

Claude put the two shaliuns back on the counter.

"Have some scrolls? I'll just get some here if they're fitting so that I don't have to get some all the way from the capital."

"I do but what kind of spells do you need, my friend?"

"I'd like some combat spells. Do you have any?" asked Claude.

Hurian looked a little troubled. "To be frank, I don't have any combat spells that are too powerful. You won't find them easily at the royal capital either. You know that this has to depend on luck, right? You'll have to wait for the right spell to show up for sale at the right price to be able to get one. However, I do have two support-type combat spells. Would you like to see them?"

Seeing Claude nod, Hurian took out two long boxes from under the counter and retrieved two spell scrolls from within. Those weren't magic scrolls, which could store mana within them and unleash the spell inscribed on it when torn. These were normal scrolls used for learning spells. The scrolls contained the spell formation as well as some explanations and step-by-step instructions of drawing the formation.

One of the scrolls detailed the Featherfall spell. In simple terms, it allowed the user to fall from a high location as lightly as a feather instead of being turned into meat paste. However, it also had its limitations. The state could only be maintained for a minute or two. The scroll also warned to not fall from higher than ten meters. Jumping from a tall spot like a cliff would merely use up the spell during the first two minutes before the user turned into meat paste due to the rest of the fall.

However, should one be able to keep a clear mind during a fall and use Featherfall near the end of it, it was a different story. In a 300-meter fall, one could jump for 290 meters and successfully use the spell for the remaining ten meters. It depended on one's own proficiency. However, that was merely a theoretical use case. Not a single magus who learned the spell was proven to achieve something like that.

The other spell scroll contained Projectile Barrier. This spell could be considered a true supporting combat spell. However, Claude couldn't seem to link Featherfall to combat no matter how much he thought about it. He reasoned that it probably helped with escape.

Projectile Barrier on the other hand seemed almost useless to Claude. What era is it nowadays? Does anyone still use bows and arrows? Guns are all the rage now. If there really were a Bulletproof spell, it'd definitely sell through the roof.

Seeing Claude shake his head and look at the scrolls derisively, Hurian hurriedly explained, "Young friend, there are only useless magi in this world, no useless spells. Any spell used under right conditions will have surprising effects. Take Featherfall for example. It helped a friend of mine escape pursuit from the Watch more than once. It also affords him much convenience when picking herbs from steep ravines."

Ah, it is used for escaping after all. During a hypothetical chase into a building, the pursuers who surrounded all the entrances and rushed upstairs wouldn't expect to see their target jump out of the window and fall to the ground like a feather. It would definitely be incredibly infuriating for them.

Well, it does seem like a more practical spell. It's better to be prepared. Maybe I'd need it one day. Claude nodded to show that he would like the spell.

Hurian continued, "Projectile Barrier is the staple support combat spell of every magus. Applying this barrier before a battle would spare one from harm from hidden weapons or arrows.

"Naturally, times are different now and nobody uses bows and arrows or even crossbows in war anymore. It would seem that this spell is useless, but that is not the case. Projectile Barrier is still provides great utility for rogue magi.

"Take for example your conflict with the Blacksnakes in the alley yesterday night. Even though you were victorious, you were lucky that none of them brought sleeve arrow launchers or crossbows with them. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to leave unscathed.

"Now that Blacksnake knows that the one who fought them was a rogue magus, they would definitely prepare lots of crossbows to protect themselves from you. Even though the crossbow has lost its use on the battlefield, it's still a prime weapon in small-scale ambushes."

Claude was quite surprised. He had forgotten the fact that he relied on the ranged aspect of his spells to gain an absolute advantage in the fight yesterday. If the thugs really had crossbows and sleeve arrow launchers like Hurian mentioned, he wouldn't have fared as well. Even if he could rely on dodging and ducking, the alley was only so wide.

"Alright, I'll take both spells. How much do you want for them?" decided Claude.

"Two shaliuns will do. You should know that those harmless spells cost ten crowns in the royal capital. These two spells of mine are far more practical and I'm only selling them to you for one shaliun each, double the price of those harmless spells. It's a great discount for you, my friend!"

"Alright, Hurian. You have my gratitude. That's a deal."

Chapter 110 - Ambush and Pursuit

Claude headed for the lake down the alley again. It was deceased that night. He was cautious this time. Last time he'd gotten into a fight, but tonight everyone was hunkered down inside, afraid the phantom might make another appearance, as indeed it now had.

Claude was overwhelmed. He'd tested out both the spells' effects at the shop. He got on the man's counter, cast Featherfall, and jumped. He landed as badly as he could, stomping his feet into the ground, but he didn't make a sound. He cast Projectile Barrier on Hurian, then shot a bolt at him. The bolt curved away just before it hit the old man and slammed into the wall behind him instead.

Claude had to test them out. He didn't do it with Maria's spells since he trusted her. Hurian, however, was a different matter. He smiled when both spells worked. Hurian took the chance to flatter Claude again, saying he'd been waiting for the right person to whom to sell the spells, and had finally found him.

Claude wondered why, however, the barrier spell could stop a bolt, but not a bullet. When he made his question known to the shopkeeper, he laughed. Apparently that was a centuries-old mystery yet to be solved. Even the stronger Energy Barrier couldn't stop a bullet.

The puzzle had been stuck in Claude's mind since he'd left the shop, and he wondered if the velocity of the bullet made it too hard to change its trajectory in the moments the spell had from when it detected the shot a couple metres away, until it struck the target. The thought was intriguing, but his best knowledge of the physics behind ballistics was just a couple forum posts about it, so he had only the vaguest notion of the principle.

It was still his best guess, however, so he decided to just go with it. The two barrier spells didn't so much stop projectiles as redirect them, and he supposed they could only exert a certain amount of force based on their strength. A bullet simple had too much momentum and needed too much force over too short a period of time for the barriers to be able to deflect it. They had little trouble with anything below a firearm, however.

His mind returned to the real world when he came to a halt in the grove. His eyes scanned his surroundings, but no one was there. Something still felt off, however.

Claude's eyes snapped wide open and his mind darted to the alert. The frogs and insects were still playing cat and mouse, or should have been. It was not cold enough to push them into their hiding places. So why could he hear none of their calls?

He darted behind a tree with unnatural speed. His back slammed into the bark just as he heard a trigger's click. It was followed almost instantly by a violent twang and a bolt slammed into the tree right beside his shoulder, actually cutting his sleeve.

A hunting crossbow! Claude recognised it immediately. It was the same kind of bolt and bow displayed in Welikro's home. They'd clearly been targeting him, so who were they?

His first thought was Blacksnake, but they were not known for subtlety. They would have come at him in the middle of the day, in the middle of the street, and made as big a spectacle of it as they could. They did not do quiet, nighttime assassinations.

His eyes darted to the bolt even as his body circled around the tree to put it between him and his attacker. The bolt had come in at a downward angle, though only slightly. This mean the shooter was either far away, or was slightly higher than him. He could not be very far away, since Claude could clearly hear his trigger and twang, so he had to be somewhere above him -- probably the trees.

The leaves had started falling, but the canopy was still thick enough to hide a man well. He took a deep breath, and poked his head out around the tree for a brief moment. The momentary glance was enough for him to catch sight of his assailant. The figure was darted around nimbly on the branches of a tree about ten metres distant.

He yanked his own crossbow out, pulled back on the string with all his might, slipped a bolt into place, and swung around the tree. The figure was still visible through a gap in the canopy, and he levelled his crossbow and let loose. The crossbow slammed back into his hand momentarily and his string twanged as it flung the bolt into the air. A moment later he heard a startled cry.

It was accompanied by a hard thunk as the bolt slammed into wood, however, telling him he'd missed. Luckily he'd not waited to see whether he'd hit his mark, and swung behind the tree as soon as the bolt was loosed, because a hair's breadth after his head vanished back behind the tree, another bolt slammed into it, right where his head had passed.

Claude's hands shook as he pulled back on the string again and shoved another bolt in place. The time between the two shots at least confirmed he was facing only one assailant. The poor bastard was definitely not expecting him to have a Projectile Barrier scroll. A small voice at the back of his mind kept asking why he was being attacked, but now was not the time to wonder, so Claude shut it up quickly.

He cast the barrier on himself, then rushed out of cover, his crossbow loaded and in hand. He heard another twang, and saw the bolt bolting towards him, but it curved away at the last moment and slammed into the same tree again. He had to hand it to his assailant, he had some reload skills. Too bad it meant nothing as long the barrier spell was in play.

"Ugh, damn it!" the figure cursed.

He vanished from the branch on which he'd been perched and descended the tree like a feather. The sight stopped Claude in his tracks. There was no doubt about it, that was Featherfall. His assailant was another magus!

Damn that Hurian! He must have leaked the information he had on Claude!

He raised his crossbow again and pulled the trigger. The bolt curved away much the same as his enemy's had just now. So they were both using barrier and Featherfall spells. This both somewhat simplified and complicated things.

"Damn you, Hurian... You actually sold my spells to this kid..." the figure cursed.

He dropped his bow and drew a shortsword, then charged at Claude.

"You were the one who asked Hurian to sell Projectile Barrier?"

"Of course, kid. Don't think too much. I was outside Hurian's shop drinking when you visited last night. I heard you bought an array's ingredients from him. Aren't you rich? I happen to need one as well. Come, give me yours!"

Moonlight needled through the canopy and one stabbed the man's face. He was dressed in a similar shawl and black robe as Claude himself. He was somewhat taller than Claude, however, and had a much brawnier build. Even worse, he appeared very comfortable with a sword.

Claude didn't panic, however. He dropped his crossbow and got into a comfortable stance. His opponent might have skills with a shortsword, but Claude had two combat spells, two powerful ones.

"You want my array? You'll have to come get it! If you really think you can take my stuff with that piece or rust, then I feel deepest pity for you!"

He knew the man had no intention of sparing his life, so there was no need to try and avoid making him angry. In fact, the angrier he got, the better. Strong emotions silences reason, and made one make mistakes.

He also had no reason to hold back to keep the man alive anymore. He'd already revealed he'd gotten his information from Hurian. And that man knew it as well, so he was definitely not going to let him go alive. It was too easy for Claude to track his identity down now.

Claude raised his hand, and cast Magic Missile. He did it twice in rapid succession, launching the two projectiles at his assailant mere moments apart. But neither did anything. They both hit, but only sparked and popped like old earth balloons.

"Hehe... Hahahaha... Did you think I would come at you without figuring out what spells you had? Come, try again, let's see if you can get through my Energy Barrier this time!"

The masked man continued his charge. Claude shoved himself out of the way just in time, and the enemy's blade bit air. Claude took the moment he was out of his enemy's view to vanish between the trees.

Claude cursed his enemy's thoroughness, but thanked his lucky stars it appeared his opponent didn't have any offensive spells of his own.

The two danced between the trees as the assailant attacked frantically and Claude dodged with all he was worth. He cursed again. Magic Missile was useless as long as the enemy's barrier was up, and he couldn't get a fix on the man to cast Mental Shock, so all he could do was duck between the trees.

Even worse, it didn't appear Claude could tire his assailant out since he seemed to be about as fit as Claude. Claude suspected he would be the first to tire since he was also carrying a twenty-catty rucksack on his back.

"Ki-kid... Give me your stuff... and the formation for Magic Missile... and I'll... let you go..." his assailant huffed.

"Ptooey!" Claude spat.

He was in no better state, but at least he could still stay ahead of his pursuer. That was not to last, however.

"Ack!"

His foot caught on a root and he was sent tumbling to the ground. His assailant did not let the chance go by. He was nearly on top of Claude when he hit the ground.

"Let's see where you run now, kid!"

Chapter 111 - Spellbane Dagger

Claude picked up a handful of fallen leaves and dirt, and tossed it at the magus. He suddenly stopped and raised his arms to shield his eyes, and the dirt stopped a centimetre from his body and fell to the ground. Claude noticed a translucent bubble flash around the man's body.

The man finally realised he'd blocked like a fool, and laughed to hide his shame.

"You've run out of options! Take out your stuff and draw the formation diagram. I'll make you regret you were born if you don't!"

Claude was on his feet again, and stood uneasily about three metres from his assailant. He stared, wide-eyed, at the magus charging at him again, closed his eyes, and shouted with everything he had left.

"Bang!"

His assailant paused for a moment, and stared at him incredulously, his eyes more puzzled than dazed.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!" Claude screamed more than shouted, his mind now in a complete panic.

The magus only continued to stare at him, half amused. He felt a series of light knocks on his head, like someone was knocking on his skull like it were a door. The magus did not remain unaffected for long.

The first three spells didn't have much effect, being more of a nuisance than anything else, but the fourth made the man wince.

"Who's hitting me?"

The fifth hit him and his knees buckled and his eyes glossed slightly. His sword fell out of his hand as he clasped his head. Claude dropped his rucksack and leapt for the sword. His panic abated when he felt the sword's cold steel in his hands. He'd acted just in time as well.

A moment later the spells' effects wore off and the magus' attention returned to Claude. He knew immediately the brat must have played a trick on him and his fury boiled.

Claude shoved the sword at the man's heart as violently as he could, but as if repelled by a magnet, the sword was shoved aside and it missed completely. His assailant grabbed him in both arms and wrestled him to the ground. Claude was much smaller than his brawny attacker and was quickly pinned beneath him.

Claude wanted to pull out his hair. How was he supposed to fight the bastard? First magic didn't work, and now even good old stabs did nothing! He couldn't even beat the man in a wrestling match! He slammed punch after punch at the man's face, ribs, anything he could reach, but they were all shoved back at him like he was hitting a balloon that just refused to pop. His enemy wasn't just sitting by idly while he was pummelled either. He was giving at least as good as he was getting, and unlike Claude's punches, his did not bounce off.

It didn't take long for Claude's face to start looking like a mulberry. Luckily he realised early on that the sword was more of a liability than an asset, so he'd tossed it away before the man could wrestle control of it back from him. The two continued to pummel one another, but Claude was losing worse and worse with every punch. It seemed his only hope was to last, somehow, until his attacker's barrier faded.

His assailant knew that as well, however. He was not the best at hand-to-hand, but decent enough to hold his own, and his shortcomings were more than made up for with his superior bulk, weight, and strength. He could overpower anything the brat tried, and shrug off anything the boy threw at him. He finally decided the attacks weren't worth defending against wholeheartedly, so he stopped blocking with his left hand and arm, and instead grabbed onto the boy's throat with it, and squeezed. The brat's started choking almost immediately, and his eyes hazed a couple dozen seconds later. He knew well the boy still had that strange dizzying spell of his, but it only made him dizzy, and now he had his hand on the brat's throat, there would be no more casting.

Claude's face turned red, then purple slowly. He fought for every breath, but the man's hand was too strong and it collapsed his throat every time he managed to gasp a breath. He didn't dare try to take the man's hand away with his own. Giving his other hand even a momentary opening would be the end of him. That said, his end was near enough if he couldn't get the hand off his throat.

His mind grew sluggish and his vision white as he began to lose his brain. And the more he struggled, the tighter the hand clasped. The distorted image of a small, black-bladed dagger flashed through his mind, and he clutched for the last hope he had. He didn't even bother to remember that no attacks could hit his enemy. His mind was utterly focused on doing something, anything, to get air.

He reached for his dagger with all his might, but that gap was all his attacker needed, and a second hand clasped his throat. Claude felt the veins on his head begin to scream as the pressure threatened to burst them, and he felt the cartilage in his throat begin to crack. If his cartilage gave, it wouldn't matter even if he somehow managed to get free, his throat would collapse and he would never take another breath.

His mouth gaped like a fish gasping for water, but nothing relieved him. His eyes were now red, blood tears rolling down his cheeks from the burst veins in his eyes, and his mouth was frothing.

He felt the cold handle of the black dagger between his fingers, and without thinking, yanked it out of its scabbard as hard as he could and plunged it into the magus as far as he could, as quickly as he could, and as many times as he could.

Squelch! Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!

After the fourth stab, and something warm covering his fingers, he felt the grip of death around his neck loosen. He stabbed his enemy another dozen times before he could finally gasp fresh air again. He did as soon as he could, not caring, or even noticing, the acrid stench of blood that hung in the air as thickly as his panic, and the soft, sour stench of panic-laced urine from between his own legs.

The magus slumped off him, mumbling with his last breaths

"I-impossible... How... how could you have... spellbane dagger..."

Claude gasped, blood mixing with his urine in his pants and ran down to soak the rear of his pants before seeping into the brown leaves and soil beneath. The blank spots in his vision slowly returned to focus, and he noticed a redness to the world. He wiped his face, and saw his hand come away covered in blood, his blood. Another tear ran down his cheek, he wiped that away as well, and again it was blood. His body fought him at every step, but a minute later he was sitting upright. The pain suddenly darted back into his mind, and his moaned as every muscle and ligament in his body protested what he'd just put them through most vehemently.

He took several more breaths, fighting to get his breathing under control, then stretched out and pulled the shawl off his attacker's face. Beneath it hid another mask, a beard which grew from almost right beneath the man's eyes, and hid his nose and mouth completely before vanishing into his shirt where it had been tucked prior to the attack's commencement. His forehead revealed a small scar, however. His beard had a single grey strand, betraying an age of at least forty, but probably no older than forty-five -- for there would have been more than one in that case.

Not a single memory, not even a lost moment of recollection or recognition came to Claude.This man was a complete stranger to him.

Damn Hurian for telling him about this! The old fat man had a reckoning coming. His mind cooled somewhat, however, and reason returned, perhaps more so because it was too exhausted to be angry than because it knew how to calm him. Hurian might not know he'd revealed Claude's secrets. They'd all been sitting there, watching him, and just a few innocent questions among friends might have unearthed all that needed unearthing.

His eyes wandered over the bearded corpse, and came to rest on a handle sticking out of its side. He reached out and pulled his dagger out with some difficulty. His last thrust had shoved it so far into the man's back it had lodged itself between two of his vertebra, right through the cushion between them. Blood still bubbled out of the many, many slit-like holes all over the man's back.

It took several substantial yanks to free the blade and return the dagger to Claude's possession. He sat, staring at the dagger, for several minutes, unable to fully appreciate how such an ordinary dagger, such a small dagger at that, could have saved him. His body shivered and his bladder let slip a couple drops when he thought of his immense luck, and of how close to death he had been.

If the dagger had not been a spellbane, he would be dead, and dead in one of the most humiliating ways he could have died.

He lifted himself to his knees, took another couple painful breaths, then heaved himself to his feet with a groan that would have shamed a cow in labour. He supposed he should be thankful for not having suffered a wound at his enemy's sword, but he doubted his body was in the mood for being thankful, nor did he suspect it would be anytime soon. His face had by now turned into a mulberry in both shape and appearance; and his thigh ached purply where his attacker had rested his knee.

He half-stumbled, half-crawled back to his crossbow, but was unable to reload it -- his arms simply didn't have the strength -- so he put it away and slung the rucksack over his shoulder tenderly and laboriously. He trudged-stumbled over to the shortsword, slid it back into its sheath, which he'd liberated from his now-deceased attacker, and tied it to his waist. He picked up the man's crossbow, and stared up at his mithril bolt, stuck in the tree a good ten metres above him, then sighed and forgot about it. He had nowhere near enough energy to even think about getting it.

Claude dragged himself back to his attacker's corpse and padded it down. He found a small pouch with three thales, several dozen fennies, and four pennies.

"Miser!" he half-spat half-coughed.

Damnit! Could the man who'd nearly killed him not have been at least a little richer? He didn't even have any expensive jewellery, not to mention any tomes. He'd hoped to find at least the man's Energy Barrier scroll, but he'd clearly cast the spell before catching Claude, and had hidden it somewhere Claude was not going to find it.

The only other thing he found was a simple bronze key. It looked like a loan key for a local inn's room, so nothing special. The only inn Claude knew that used that design of key was Mermaid.

He wondered if he should go take a look at the man's room, but he put the thought aside. He wreaked of blood, his attacker's blood and his own alike. He could not afford to attract the attention of unwanted third parties. Not to mention the suspicion his sudden arrival, key in hand, would raise.

He shoved the thought to the back of his mind. Regardless of what he did later, right now his first concern was dealing with the body -- and he was running out of time. Pegg would only give him so much leeway before he became suspicious. And lord help Claude if Pegg found him standing over a corpse in the middle of a grove, covered in blood, no less.

Chapter 112 - Impostor

Pegg stood at the entrance of the stone building with an old goatskin pulled over himself and watched a figure approaching slowly.

"That you, Claude?" he yelled when the figure was about ten metres away.

The figure stopped moving, then answered.

"Yes, Uncle. It's me."

"Didn't find Eyke's boat? What happened?" Pegg asked.

The figure-now-identified-as-Claude's gait was haggard.

"No, Uncle, I haven't. I've checked all up and down the shore. I have no idea where they went. I was heading back when I lost my footing and tumbled down the slope into the water."

"You alright?"

"I'm fine."

Claude stopped by the carriage and swung his rucksack over the side, clambered into the driver's seat, took the reins, and urged Jemmy forward.

"Thank you for waiting for me. I would have liked to go fishing with the boys, but that's not to be, it seems. They'll probably be back tomorrow afternoon, so I might come say hello then. I might even have a hare or two when then," Claude said politely.

"Alright. I'll tell them you were here. Be careful on your way back. It'll be no less slippery for the carriage."

"I know, Uncle. I will."

The two parted ways and Claude headed back to the wood. The trip back went without incident, and he returned Jemmy to the stable with a full trough of feed. Carriage and horse stowed, Claude went to check on the Sioris, who were still watching over their coop. Well, turned out they hadn't been watching over their coop the whole time, only that they'd just come out to check after hearing some noises -- noises which turned out to be him arriving. The three greeted each other politely, then returned to their quarters.

Claude immediately searched for a spot to put his new stuff, both those bought and those looted. The material went on a table in one of his more sequestered rooms, while his late attacker's bow went on a hook on one wall. Claude admired it through one eye while he ministered to his wounds with a fresh bottle of potion.

Once he felt the pain from his guts and scratches numb enough, he took out a nice, thick woollen coat, strapped his new sword to his waist, fetched his original enchanted crossbow, and got out two bottles of gran wine.

He brought the wine because it was the easiest to distil into pure alcohol, which he needed for some of his experiments. He still had twelve left, ten after the two he took. He slipped the two he'd taken into a bag, then left, blowing out the light on his way out, and descended the hill.

He still had so much to do, and not much time in which to do it. Tired as he may be, he could not just collapse onto his bed right now. His eyes wandered to the half-obscured moon as he slipped from tree to tree and a sigh escaped him.

The trip to Eriksson's family jetty took 40 minutes by carriage, but two hours by foot. The road was completely deserted this late into the night, or early into the morning, depending on how one considered the time. His travel was unimpeded by the need to hide himself, except once when he ran into the town watch's night patrol.

He diverted from the path heading to the jetty just before reaching it, heading for the shore instead, then retraced his steps to the alley.

He stood in the grove again about ten minutes later. He walked through it gingerly, crossbow at the ready, his ears trained delicately on anything he heard that was not him, and arrived by the steep slope on the other side. He checked his surroundings several times, then slid down it.

His assailant's corpse lay at the bottom, covered under Claude's old bloody robe. He removed it now, folded it carefully, and put it aside. He cast Featherfall on the corpse, then dragged it along the sheer side.

He had yet to decide what to do with the corpse, but he knew he couldn't leave the corpse here. It would be discovered, and that would launch the town watch into an investigation that might end up asking uncomfortable questions about him.

He could tell the half-truth that he'd been attacked and killed the man in self-defence, but that would beg the question as to why he was in the grove in the first place. Not to mention Hurian would know his real identity from the investigation's focus on him, and the whole reason for doing any and all of this was to keep that a secret.

He couldn't make the corpse just cease to exist -- oh, how he wished he could -- but he could at least make it harder to find, and make sure it was found somewhere it wouldn't immediately point whoever was looking in his direction. If he really wanted to however, and was willing to pay for it, he supposed he could get someone in the docks to make it disappear. There were those who specialised in making sure unwanted things were never discovered.

The thought lingered in his mind for a while before he nodded and decided to do just that.

Mermaid's building was an L-shaped, three story building. The bottom floor was made of stone, while the two upper floors were of wood. The longer of its wings held its rooms, and the shorter wing, which faced the street, was its tavern section -- the first two floors, to be precise, the owner and his family lived on the third one.

Claude had never been to the establishment before, but Eriksson had done his fairest best to describe it to him, and Claude had remembered what the boy had said. The owner, Aleksim, was a big figure in Whitestag's underworld. He used to be a whaling captain in his younger days and had ended his seagoing years as a pirate. In fact, it was one of his outings as a pirate which had brought about his early retirement. Robbed of a leg, he could not stand as captain anymore. He used his life's loot to build the inn and settled on its third floor with his family, which ran it with him.

He'd built Mermaid on top of the dock's embankment, which served Claude just fine that night. He dragged the corpse from the hill down to the shore, then along it to the building's foundation by the edge of the water, beneath a small private jetty for the inn.

It took him forty minutes to drag the corpse to the tavern, and he was covered in sweet by the time he finally dropped the literal dead weight under the small jetty. Featherfall reduced an object's weight to next to nothing, but only lasted two minutes. Twenty minutes of constant casting had worn Claude's mana thin, and he'd had to carry the corpse's full weight the rest of the way.

Mermaid's lodging wing had two entrances; one right in the building's bend, and bathed in the tavern wing's light, the other at the far end of the wing, opening practically right onto the jetty. Both doors had a guard at all times, and no guest had either of the doors' keys.

Claude circled Mermaid twice and carefully inspected the terrain, trying to figure out which entrance to use and how to get the corpse to it without being noticed. The night was in its final hours, and he could just about hear the earliest of the morning birds begin to stir in their nests. He didn't have much time. The tavern was empty save a couple of regulars passed out in two of its corners. The bar was manned by only a single person, whose eyes were heavy and buried in his business of drying all the washed mugs and plates.

He was not going to pass for the corpse in the bright light of the tavern, and he'd rather not someone recognise him being somewhere he had no business being, at a time when he had professed to others he would be somewhere else entirely.

In the end he decided to use the entrance nearest the jetty. It was the darkest, and he might just manage to convince the guard he was the bearded man and slip by in and out before they saw through his disguise. He dwelled on the thought for a moment longer, then shrugged and took off his robe, pants, and shoes, and put on the corpse's.

He washed them in the water for several minutes until the dry blood dissolved and the stains slowly cleared. The smell vanished with them, and Claude smiled at his handiwork. He got out his bottles of wine and gave himself a healthy lathering, until the stench of alcohol alone was nearly enough to get him actually drunk. He took out a piece of charcoal, smushed it into coarse powder and rubbed it on his face. He still had half a bottle of wine left, which he emptied just a bit more for good measure before ascending the embankment.

He did his best impression of a drunk as he came over the side to the top, stumbling back and forth while his alert eyes inspected his surroundings, and headed for the door.

A metal gate covered the door, locked tightly. Claude rapped his fingers on it a couple times, then banged on it in an unsteady rhythm.

"Open up!" he shouted in a slurred a voice as he could.

The door's knob turned and the door swung out of the way to reveal a mountain of a man.

"Who are you?"

Claude covered his face with his free hand and squinted.

"Oooh... Ooh... I need... a key to open... 'm I right?"

He took out the bronze key and handed it to the man.

"He... here ya go... Key... O-open the door..."

The huge man checked the key for a moment, then smiled at Claude.

"Ah, Mister Edmigar, what are you doing out so late... and so drunk? Just a moment, let me get the key. That's your room key, it won't open this door."

Claude pretend-choked on a chug of wine, and coughed as much as he could, using the excuse to cover his face with his hand.

The huge man returned and unlocked the gate, swinging it open carefully to not hit Claude.

"You need me to take you up to your room?" the man asked with considerable concern.

"I... I ain't drunk... Gim... gimme one more bottle... you.. you drink too..." Claude stammered, shoving his half-empty bottle in the man's hand, who smiled at him when he heard the wine sloshing around inside it.

"Thank you very much, Mister Edmigar. Careful on the stairs!"

Claude smiled at the unbridled greed with which the man eyed the bottle of wine, which he quickly hid from Claude's gaze, lest 'Mister Edmigar' change his mind. Claude stumbled up the stairs, a greedy smile on his face as well.

He didn't run into anyone else on his way to the room, but he could hear everything, every wet, naughty thing the guests were up to behind their closed doors. He sighed, if only the inn had thicker walls...

He soon found 'his' room, slipped the key in, unlocked the door, and slipped inside.

Chapter 113 - Featherfall

The room wasn't that large, just three metres wide and two metres deep. It was sparsely furnished as well. It had a single bed, a small desk beneath the single window at the foot of the bed, and a simple, wooden chair by the desk. It didn't even have a trunk for clothes and personal belongings.

Claude struck a fire starter and lit the lamp on the desk. He crushed the small firestarter flame between his thumb and index finger and tossed the smouldering stump out the open window. He nurtured the lamp for a few moments until it was well-lit, then turned his attention to the rest of 'Edmigar's' room. Despite the clear age of the room and its furnishings, it was clean. In fact, Claude couldn't find any trace of someone being in the room since it had last been cleaned -- which would have happened after the previous guest had checked out, and before Edmigar had checked in. The only hint that Edmigar really had booked the room was the key Claude had found on his person, and the single goatskin bag he saw sticking out from under the bed.

The bag was stuffed and carefully placed for easy retrieval, clearly he'd been planning to dart as soon as he returned from his hunt.

Claude yanked the bag out from under the bed and unceremoniously dumped everything inside out onto the bed. It was just a few sets of clean clothes, a couple pairs of socks, a linen towel, and a bronze canteen, not even a magic one! Beyond that were just a few essentials for survival in the wilds. He had a bit of salt, a few fish hooks, two rolls of line, a wooden food box, a barebones set of cutlery, a small box of firestarters, a sewing kit, and half a bottle of healing potion.

He hadn't expected the man to store his most valuable things in a place so easily reached by others, but he'd hoped to find at least something useful. One option was to store it in the inn safe for an additional fee, but doing that alone was letting everyone know you had something worth stealing, so few did so.

Claude double checked everything, but he couldn't find any notes or slips that might indicate Edmigar had used the inn safe. Everything seemed to indicate he was just a poor old sod. What hurt more than not getting something worth something, was that he didn't get a scroll of Energy Barrier. He'd prayed the man might have something like that hidden somewhere. It wasn't a devastating loss, however, so he only sighed a couple of times then moved on.

He put everything back in the bag and slipped it back under the bed. He returned to the desk, moved it aside -- careful not to tip the lamp over and start a fire -- and poked his head out through the window. He made sure no one was around, then pulled his head back. He took off his clothes, throwing them over the chair. And took a roll of rope out of his own sack. He tied one end to a bedpost, threw the other out the window, blew out the lamp, and slipped down the wall.

The window opened out onto the small jetty, and he slid right into a bush a couple metres away from the door through which he'd entered in a small dark spot. He slipped over the edge, down into the loose soil revealed by the low tide, and ducked under the jetty.

The corpse was still there as he had left it. He tied another rope he had around its waist, and suddenly held his breath. A man, audibly drunk, stumbled onto the jetty. He heard a sigh and a thin stream of liquid splashing into the water just two metres from him. It lasted for much longer than Claude thought possible, then the man murmured something and stumbled away again.

Claude shook his head, climbed back up out from under the jetty and pulled the corpse along. He sat the man up, legs dangling off the side of the embankment, and tied the other end of the rope to a nearby tree. It propped the man up like a drunkard staring out over the harbour.

Satisfied that casual scrutiny from a distance would not unveil his farce, Claude clambered back up to Edmigar's room. Luckily the ground floor was empty, and the memory of Eriksson talking about how the ground floor wasn't very popular since it was more like a barracks than an inn, with all the beds lined up next to one another rather than in separate rooms, played in his head as he struggled up the rope. It was used mostly by captains to lodge their crews during short stopovers.

The first floor had 24 small rooms. They were usually reserved for recreational activities rather than lodgings. The second floor had eight luxurious -- by Whitestag standards -- rooms. They were mostly reserved only by the likes of captains, and maybe a local guest with whom said captain wanted to talk business.

The winter months were very quiet, and the inn was mostly empty. It wasn't technically winter yet, but the ships had all already left for their winter voyages. Those in harbour were anchored for the winter and the crews had been sent home rather than set up in inns. Most of them were back for cleaning -- barnacles and the like -- and fixing, and would all be in drydock at some point during the winter.

Claude huffed as he finally slipped over the sill back into the room. His muscles weren't strained from the climb, he was a strong boy, after all, but his lungs still had their work cut out for them.

He took a few moments to catch his breath, the peeked back out of the window, cast Featherfall on the corpse and yanked it up by the rope. A single yank was enough to send it drifting up to the window slowly and Claude waited for it to reach him before yanking it inside.

It took the corpse just under the two minute mark to reach the window, but it crashed into the floor just after passing through the window. Claude nearly jumped out the window, and stood frozen like a meerkat, listening for anyone coming to check on the room, before sighing in relief and going back to work.

The lamp lit up again and the corpse was hauled onto the bed and tucked in. Claude carefully rolled it over so it's pale, dead face wasn't staring at the door, then returned everything in the room to its original position.

He wiped his footprints off the floor with the linen cloth, checked the room, blew out the lamp, and jumped out the window.

He cast Featherfall on himself as he left the building, and descended slowly to the ground.

He reflected on the spell's usefulness as he slipped back under the jetty. It certainly made dealing with clandestine operations much easier. He'd almost forgotten he could use it on the corpse when he'd realised he would have to deal with it. He'd at first, in his panic, thought of bringing the carriage over and driving the corpse to the estate and dealing with it there, but luckily reason had not left him completely. He couldn't figure out what he would have done with the corpse once he had it at the estate. The Sioris would have noticed anything as out of the ordinary as a grave almost immediately.

He had to give it to Hurian, he had at least that wisdom going for him. There were indeed no useless spells, only unimaginative magi. Every spell had some kind of use, it was just up to the magus to figure out what it was.

The thought made him once again consider Hurian's role in the night's events. Upon further rumination, Claude decided Hurian probably didn't know about Edmigar's plans. He doubted the man would have sold Edmigar's spell to his target had he known. Though he couldn't just discount that it had been from Hurian, knowingly or otherwise, that Edmigar had learnt of Claude's transaction. Important things first, however.

Claude made a far more relaxed, though still substantially cautious, way back to the estate. He didn't try to hide his footprints, high-tide would be in before sunrise, and it would wipe away all trace of his presence before returning to the lake.

Edmigar's corpse would be found in his room, eventually, and he would be Aleksim's problem, not Claude's. And since the guards had seen him walk to his room early this morning, everyone would assume his killing had happened in his room. Luckily the post mortem sciences were not that advanced on Freia, so no one should be able to figure out that he'd have to have died before the guards had seen 'him' going to his room.

If the case was reported to the town watch, it would just become one more of the unsolved cases, of which there were so many in the town ledger.

Claude didn't think Aleksim would report it to the town watch, however. It was not good for business to have the murdered corpses of your guests popping up in their rooms every now and again. And since it was not going to be solved anyway, why not just deal with it quietly? A missing guest was much better than a murdered guest.

Whatever happened from here on out, however, it should not affect or even involve him in any way, so he locked the night's business in a small mental box and filed it away as 'resolved'. Now he could take a bath, get a good rest, and focus on the business of setting up the array.

The night sky had broken by the time Claude returned to the estate, though the sun was still about half an hour from peeping over the horizon. He took a quick bath, had a cold breakfast, and napped until the sun was fully out, then went to the stable and took Jemmy for a patrol of the estate. He returned to find the Sioris up and about, gave them their instructions for the day, and locked himself in the laboratory.

Chapter 114 - Preparation Before Setup

If it was only a night without sleep, Claude could endure. But he'd been depleting his mana the whole evening as well. He fell asleep the moment his feet hit the carpet in the laboratory and slept through till nightfall. He only woke up when someone knocked on the door.

He stumbled to his feet and opened the door. Eriksson, Welikro, and Siori awaited him on the other side.

"What are you doing? You took so long to open the door. We thought something had happened to you. We were getting ready to break the door down!" Eriksson yelped.

"Nothing much. I was busy with experimenting the whole day. I was just pausing for a nap. I didn't think I'd be out this long. I might have slept till midnight if you guys hadn't woken, me," Claude answered, stretching lazily.

"I'll take my leave now," Siori chirped, "The branches are taken care of. They're drying in the barn."

Claude glanced at him and noticed four longtail swordfish in his hands, then nodded. The old man spoke a couple words to the visitors, then left.

"Why are you here?" Claude asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

"We came because Uncle Pegg told us you came by and fell. We decided to come say hi and smoke a couple fish. We caught twenty longtails, so we brought you and the Sioris a couple. That reminds me, make anything good?" Eriksson asked, straining to peek over Claude's shoulder into the laboratory.

"Not yet," Claude said, shoving them out and closing the door behind him, "It's not that easy. I can only just process a couple herbs now. I still have a long way to go. I've tried making a simple potion a couple of times before, but no luck. Anyway, let's go back to the villa."

His two friends had come by carriage, probably borrowed from Miss Welinda. The fish and a keg of ale were still on it. The two visitors took the fish into Claude's villa while he took the keg.

The horse and carriage were stowed in the stable and fed as well. Eriksson cleaned the fish in the meantime. Claude bought two cockerels from the Sioris. He paid two riyas, and the couple gave him a couple eggs to make up the difference. Claude 'forgot' a bottle of gran wine on his way out as well.

Eriksson drooled for half an hour straight that night while Claude made his favourite chicken wings, and he only left one for Welikro, most begrudgingly. The rest of the chickens were braised and poached in a special sauce which Claude's friends enjoyed just as much as the wings. The keg was done by the end of the night, Eriksson having downed half of it on his own. The boy had to be carried back to the carriage.

The three parted ways around midnight, and Claude headed back to his villa for a good bath. When he checked his hexagram after his bath, only a small portion of his mana had recovered. Luckily his mental energy had come back much faster.

He'd cast no less than ten spells the previous night, all but one of which had been Featherfall, and all his mana had been depleted. It would take fifty casts of the spells in his hexagram to deplete his reserve as much, on the other hand. Spells from his tome, thus far only Luminous Pearl, could be cast twenty times. Claude understood, viscerally, for the first time how important it was to pick spells to be engraved in one's hexagrams most carefully. And how much worth tomes had.

He could delay no longer, he had to set up his array the next night. He wished he could do it immediately, but he didn't have enough mana yet. He was not about to risk losing his investment to a sloppy setup because he was tired or lacked the mana. But a day was the most he could wait.

In the meantime, he would inscribe Featherfall and Projectile Defence in his tome. He'd learned how useful the spells were, and decided they were worth the pages in his tome. The rest of the time would be spent meditating to speed up his recovery.

The next day was Monday again, and Claude headed for school early in the morning. He headed straight home after, ran his patrol, handed out the duties to the Sioris, then darted home for a quick meal before turning his thoughts to his array.

The first question was where to set it up. He'd at first thought about using the laboratory, but it didn't belong to him. She'd talked about taking students and relatives there occasionally, so it wasn't the right place.

His villa was the next obvious choice. It was his now. He didn't own it, but had an indefinite lease as part of his employment contract, and no one had access to it besides himself and his mistress, though he doubted she would go in without his permission or foreknowledge.

He'd have to abandon a room to the array, however, though that was doable.

When Maria's father commissioned the villa's restoration, he'd miscommunicated his intent to the builder, who went and turned the small country house into a proper villa, rooftop veranda and everything. Her father wasn't very impressed, but he was not the confrontational type, and had simply let it be. That said, Claude loved it, he had from the moment he'd first seen it.

The small villa wasn't built directly on the ground. It was separated from the ground by about half a metre, held up by a series of pillars that ran into the walls themselves. It was called a villa, but it resembled the cowboy log cabins of the old western movies from old earth more. It had a somewhat rough and run-down appearance from the outside, but inside it was as luxurious as one would expect from a place built for a noble. The interior decking was made from yellow-rubber wood, a rare and expensive furnishing, especially in those parts.

The 'ground' floor held the kitchen, a bathroom, a hall which served as both dining room and living room, and two small guest rooms, while the first floor had one small guest room with a bathroom, and a master bedroom and en-suite bathroom. All in all the small villa could accommodate four people, more if they were couples.

Claude had only ever used the master bedroom, its en-suite bathroom, and the kitchen and hall. He could give up the two ground floor guest rooms since he doubted he'd ever have enough simultaneous visitors to need three guest rooms. One would become his alchemy room, with his array, and the other a study or office. If he ever really needed a servant, he could also turn it into a servant's quarters.

He started cleaning innermost of the two rooms, but quickly ran into a problem. The room was completely unfurnished. He had nothing on which to make the array. He'd have to buy a table or something first. And he certainly couldn't leave the windows bare, they needed curtains, thick, dark, curtains.

His mistress didn't have to worry about such matters, since her servants wouldn't dare babble about her activities. Claude, however, was another matter entirely. The first hint the Sioris caught of his magus abilities, the entire town would know.

The old couple were always polite and obedient, but he knew they weren't too happy with being bossed about by a little brat. That he earned, from the very beginning, as much as they did after decades of faithful service, didn't help. They would never deliberately sabotage him, but they certainly would not hold their tongue about his failures or... peculiarities.

If he was to make the room a proper work space, he also needed a desk and a chair, as well as a good cupboard and some shelves for his materials. He needed writing materials as well, and jars and containers. Not just any jars or containers either, but crystal ones. Landes had mentioned a couple times that magical materials had to be stored in crystal containers to retain their magical properties.

Chapter 115 - Success!

The three carriages of furniture were finally delivered a week later. The Sioris were most curious when they saw the commotion at Claude's villa, and came over for a peek.

"Why did you buy this furniture? Is that thick table going to be a dining table?" SIori asked.

"I'm setting up a study. I need space for my books. Winter's on us as well, and I would prefer not to have to walk to the manor every time I want to read. As for the table, it's for maps and large drawings. A small desk wouldn't fit them."

The couple watched the work for a couple minutes then left, probably chiding Claude quietly for being a choosy beggar. The furniture had to cost at least five thales. It was two months' salary! The couple earned less than three thales between the two of them by comparison. Siori got one thale and five riyas, while Lancy got a thale and two riyas.

As far as Maria was concerned, the old couple were living out their retirement and even used the land there for their chicken coop and private farming. She wouldn't have kept them on if not for their decades of loyal service and their children's continued service to the family under her brother.

Claude hadn't been sitting around idly, waiting for the furniture, he'd spent most of the afternoons in the town market, sourcing all the things he needed to set up his minute laboratory. He got everything under the veil of restocking the manor's laboratory so he didn't raise any eyebrows, but everything ended up in his villa. His shopping adventure wasn't cheap, however, and he felt broke by the time he was done, though he still had nine shaliuns.

Half the reason he went to the market every day, however, wasn't for his purchases -- he could finish those in half a week if he'd wanted, not the whole week as it ended up taking -- it was to listen out for any talk of his murder, but he heard nothing. Even Eriksson, who supposedly knew all the dirty little secrets there were to know about all the businesses around the docks, knew nothing. Edmigar had vanished from town without leaving a trace or anyone noticing.

Claude, Welikro, and Eriksson had also gone to Hurian's store once in the week to buy malt candy for his little brother, Bloweyk. Claude had watched the man with a falcon's gaze, but the fat man had shown no sign of recognising him.

The secret room had been hidden again, though Claude noticed three trashy magic items scattered randomly between the shelves. The shopkeep had promoted them the best he could and had managed to hook Eriksson on one. Unfortunately he had been too greedy with his prices, so the three had left without taking any.

The workers moved the furniture into the room and arranged as he wanted. They also installed the curtains. Claude checked the work, tipped them three sunars each, and sent them on their way.

Claude wiped the furniture down lovingly when everyone was gone then turned his attention to his reagent materials. He laid everything out on the table and organised everything by type, use, condition, etc. Once everything was done, he stood back and sighed, satisfied, at his work. Everything was finally ready for the array.

Night in the wood was dead quiet. It was about eight right now. The town was still quite merry, but the wood was deserted save for a few crickets. Even the old couple was already asleep. They were early sleepers. Fuels for lighting the night was ineffective, so there was little that could be done after dark, and long, hardworking days made for early bedtimes, anyway.

Claude stood against the railing around the arbour, gazing out towards the chicken coop. He had meditated after taking a short rest. Life in the wood was much better than life in the red-bricked mansion. Nobody here interrupted his studies or meditations.

He circled his roof one more time, checking that no one was in the vicinity, then went inside. He checked each room in his house on his way down, making sure the windows were shut, the curtains drawn, and the doors shut, before settling in in his study. He shut and locked the door, then drew the curtains shut over the windows, tying their sides to the walls with the special laces sewn into their sides, sew them to one another as well, then with the room pitch black and no light leaking in, he cast Luminous Pearl.

The room was suddenly bathed in daylight again, and Claude smiled. The smile lasted only a moment before his face returned to a resting expression of utter concentration. He took out his backpack and got out his now-organised materials.

He placed the magistone tablets on the table -- they formed a rough hexagon -- and got to work engraving the runes. The entire array was composed of six independent runes, which Claude engraved first, connected into a single array, which Claude did after he was finished with all six.

Though there was much to do, Claude didn't have to use his own hands, which made things much easier and more pleasant. Landes mentioned in his diary that using Magus' Hands during the setting up of an alchemical formation array was far more efficient than using one's own, not to mention being more accurate and requiring less effort.

The first step was drawing the runes and channels on the tablets. The channels, as their name suggested, were there to guide the flow of mana around the array. They were quite literal channels as well, deep furrows gouged into the tablets and painted with the blood of a specific magic beast. Magus blood was a possible, if less desirable and effective, alternative.

Fortunately, not much blood was needed, but it had to undergo treatment before use. According to Landes, magus blood couldn't compare to a magic beast's blood. The mana in magus blood was infused artificially, while the mana in a magic beast's blood was there naturally. As a result, magus blood was far less effective as a channel, and didn't provide as stable a flow, nor could it handle as much mana for the same channel size, making arrays painted using it, inferior.

Claude stood beside the table and glared at the hexagram engraved and painted into the tablets. Behind him, on the shelf, the box of whiteroot powder automatically opened. A silver scoop flew through the air towards it and returned to the table a moment later and poured its contents into a small glass tube. A bottle of distilled water floating nearby popped open and added its contents to the tube. A glass rod slipped into the tube and stirred the contents into a gentle swoop.

The tube, the liquid inside still swirling around, floated onto the table. Claude's own hand reached out and took a small silver blade. He slit a small wound into his finger and let a drop of blood fall into the tube. The moment the drop hit the water, the glass rod stirred again. The solution pinked rapidly, and Claude dabbed a bit of healing ointment onto his finger.

Magus' Hands was cast once more alongside Fine Control. One of Claude's manifestations turned into an invisible brush and started painting the carved channels. Claude had little confidence the process would succeed if he drew it with a physical brush using his own hands, it would take way too long, but Magus' Hands was another story. Most importantly, Magus' Hands drew perfectly, there was no wavering, no lopsidedness, not even a change in the line's thickness. It drew much like the automated machine of old earth.

It took Claude half and hour to fill the hexagon with lines and shapes.

The carving process that had preceded the painting had taken a fair amount longer. While his manifestations were just as unwavering as they were later with the painting, the tablets were incredibly stubborn. They gave in the end, and the channels had sunk into the stone with deceptive ease.

The next step now came around. Claude brought over a bottle of skystar dust and filled in the channels, then infused the entire system with mana. Dark blue smoke wafted up from the dust as it melted and bubbled in a thick slime and fogged the entire room in just a couple of seconds. Claude held his breath and pushed his mana into the array until the last dust bubbled away. The mist cleared unnaturally quickly the moment he stopped his flow of mana, though a waft of it remained, hovering just above the tablets. It continued its hover, slowly turning light blue, then transparent.

When Claude trained his gaze on the tablets again, the seams between them had vanished, and they'd merged into a single sheet of stone. The paint in the channels had also turned from pale pink to navy.

The engravings' primary function was to act as a container, holding the forces and mana involved in whatever was being done on the formation in one place. Thus both preventing it from dissipating, but, most importantly, protecting the magus from the vast amounts of energy and the powerful forces involved in the various experiments.

As the array sat currently, however, the channels and runes were nothing more than pretty engravings. The array was dead until it had been given fuel in the form of fire crystals. Installing them was a simple affair, however. They simply had to be slipped into the holes already carved for them. One went in each corner of the array. The holes weren't painted the same way as the channels, however; instead of finishing them off with skystar dust, the holes were finished with crimsonblood dew.

According to Landes, the ideal media for mana in arrays were crimson dragon blood and black dragon blood. They contained the essence of sunfire and hellfire, which was capable of increasing heat of fire crystals to the highest levels possible.

Crimson dragons and black dragons had already been extinct for more than a millennium even before the war, so magi simply had to settle for the blood of lesser fire beasts. But, as more and more fire beast species went extinct, even those lesser bloods vanished. Now, barring the rarest of occasions, arrays were made using crimsonblood dew.

Claude once again infused his mana into the array, focusing this time on the holes, and watched the crimsonblood dew whiteroot powder mixture bubble away.

Finally, it was complete. The array had been successfully set up. He stumbled to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, breathing heavily. His mana was almost entirely depleted, and his eyelids heavy. Beneath them, however, his eyes sparkled like they were on fire.

Claude sat there for several minutes, then trudged back up the two flights of stairs to the arbour and meditated for several hours to restore himself before returning to his study. He admired the array for several minutes, before he yawned. He couldn't go to sleep however, not before he'd tested the array out at least once, so he decided to make just a simple recipe with it, a simple crystal container.

He began by channelling mana into the fire crystals and linking all six together. The crystals glowed and soon Claude could feel the heat radiating from them. He cast Magus' Hands, picked up a chunk of unprocessed crystal ore, and put it in the array.

The ore melted immediately, and the array pushed the molten rock out of it, leaving only pure crystal behind, which also quickly melted into a blob much the shape of egg-yellow, only transparent. Claude cast Fine Control, turning one of his manifestations into a spatula like thing, and split the blob into thirds. The blobs had the consistency of wet clay, and he moulded each into three small bottles.

He withdrew his mana from the array, and watched the bottles cool.

Chapter 116 - Asking for Money

Claude finished yet another potion. Another potion. Landes' instructions had been meticulous and clear, and Claude had followed them to the letter.

He'd outdone even his teacher, and done it without much exertion. It seemed as well that he had outdone most alchemists since the war, as all the textbooks he'd read said only the best post-war apothecaries could make proper potions these days. Potions had vanished from all but the elite circles after the magi's fall.

Modern herbalists relied on machines and experimental apparati to treat the herbs and make the concoctions. That was why making a concoction of eight-tenths efficacy compared to potions was the best they could do.

Yet, Landes mentioned in his diary that anything short of a potion was a failure. Lorist believed it was due to the usage of arrays to synthesize various potions, whereas herbalists had to use other methods to simulate the synthesis. The herbalists were at a disadvantage from the get-go.

Claude had some experience with that as well. He had tried using the machines and tools in his mistress' lab to concoct potions and failed. But now he had an array; all he had to do was handle the materials as Landes instructed.

He looked at the twenty-odd crystal tubes on his shelf and scratched his head. How was he going to deal with the potions? He couldn't just sell them to an apothecary.

Maria was an intermediate-rank herbalist, but she could at best create mediocre concoctions. His name would instantly be known throughout the kingdom the moment someone learnt of his ability to concoct potions. However, he'd spent most of his money to get the material he'd used for those potions. He had to sell them one way or another to make his money back.

If only they'd been just concoctions. If he brought superior concoctions to the apothecary, everyone would just think he had an excellent talent his mistress had spotted and cultivated well. There was no downplaying a potion, however. The way he might be able to sell them was to degrade them back down to concoctions. Unfortunately, no one in their right mind would have wanted to do that in Landes' time, so he'd not talked about how that might be done. Claude didn't even know if it was really possible without ruining the potion entirely.

Potions couldn't just be diluted like alcohol or other solutions. Even just concoctions didn't mix with water. Something changed in them during the concocting process and they became like oil to water. They could be mixed with water under specific circumstances, namely, if the concoction was heated to a very specific temperature, but in most cases that completely ruined the concoction.

Half an hour of ponderance gave Claude just two possible solutions. He could either send the potions to his mistress in the capital and leave dealing with them up to her -- the capital had a large enough circle of elites that potions weren't an unheard-of thing, though they were still exceedingly rare -- or he could sell the potions directly to Hurian while doing his utmost to hide his identity. The first option would take time and he'd have to pay for a courier to take it to the city, while the other would force him to deal with that fat old man again.

His purchase had been eyebrow-raising, but not enough to engendre suspicion, and his excuse of excellent backing had allayed much of the wonder as to where he'd gotten the funds to purchase such expensive materials. That excuse, however, would not work for the potions. Hurian would no doubt save no expense to learn who he was once he realised he could make potions.

Even worse, he'd bought most of the materials he'd needed for the potions in his original identity from town. Hurian only had to ask the right people the right questions and he could easily put two and two together.

He sighed and decided to leave the stuff in his laboratory. They were properly stored so they wouldn't lose their efficacy, and thus their value, anytime soon. He'd think about difficult things later. Claude headed up to the bathroom to have a bath, and clean up his face and hair. Almost two days of straight work did not sit well with his appearances.

People shouldn't be obsessed over everything, Claude thought when he got out of his bath. He'd not even changed or washed his clothes for several days since he'd gotten started with his array. Siori had come to him the day before to tell him something, but ran away the moment he opened the door.

He checked the calendar hanging above the small desk against the wall. The 18th of the 11th month. Winter was coming on strongly and there were just 26 days left before his graduation. His parents would be there, too.

The thought of his parents reminded him. He'd not been back to his parents' house in over a week and a half. He'd spent the whole time in his new laboratory. If not for him running out of materials, he suspected he might have happily continued locking himself up in that small room for months.

Claude's mind had been wholly occupied with refining or topics related to it, such as how to sell his potions, for days now. No wonder Landes mentioned losing track of time and losing days on end so often. The sense of satisfaction from successfully concocting a potion was positively addictive.

He slapped himself a couple times, got dressed, and left the hut. The sky was dark and it threatened to rain. Well, either rain or snow, Claude thought, shivering as he rubbed his arms furiously to and win back some heat.

Despite his discomfort, he fetched his musket and prepared to go out on patrol.

Siori was busy in the stable, and waved at him as he walked past.

"Sorry, Uncle. I was locked in my studies so I couldn't afford being interrupted. About what did you want to see me again?" Claude asked, stopping by the stable door.

"It's nothing much," Siori said a little forced, "Winter is just about here and Lancy and I usually cut down a couple old trees for firewood. You're the supervisor now, though, so we need your permission to fell any trees on the estate. We were hoping to make charcoal."

"Charcoal? No problem. And no need to ask me. You can make as much as you want. Anyway, I'm heading out on my patrol now!" Claude said as he mounted Jemmy and galloped off for the woodline.

It didn't take him long to spot a drove of goats. Claude let the arrow fly and one fell immediately. He didn't run into anything else that day, and soon was on his way back to the manor.

He stopped by the stream to skin the goat. While he was at it he decided to butcher the entire animal. He gave half the meet to Siori and kept the rest for himself. The meet was quickly stored and soon after he set out with the carriage, heading for town. He arrived just before his mother started with dinner.

He felt the awkward atmosphere the moment he set foot through the door, and his eyes darted around suspiciously. His mother was pale and he saw that her smile didn't reach her eyes. She took the meat he brought with him without her usual enthusiasm and thanks as well, getting back to work again immediately. His father was his usual piped statue by the dining table. All the house's windows were shut.

Bloweyk darted into his embrace the moment he noticed his presence. His cheeks were wet with tears. Even the snowhound, which had turned into the two children's perpetual shadow was appeared lacklustre.

"What happened, Father?" Claude asked, "Did Arbeit cause trouble again?"

Claude naturally immediately suspected his good-for-nothing older brother. He was almost always the cause of any trouble at home. He remembered suddenly, too, that he'd seen the bastard go whoring in the slums and wondered what fresh scandal he'd brought on the family this time.

Morssen shook his head.

"It has nothing to do with him. But don't worry, it should pass soon. And why are you back now? You didn't come for a visit when the school break started. Your mother even made a feast to welcome you home again, but you didn't show."

"Sorry, I was just too busy with my studies. I completely lost track of the date.

"I happened to hunt a wild goat in the woods today and brought some back. I've also come for my winter clothes. Also, have you received the school's invitation to the graduation ceremony yet? If not you should soon, but you all know when it is..." Claude's voice trailed off for a long moment while he gathered himself, "I've been working in the woods for a couple months now, but I haven't taken my salary yet, could I withdraw it all now?"

Chapter 117 - Familial Conflict

Come to think of it, it was rather funny. Claude had worked as supervisor of Normanley Wood for two months, but had not claimed a salary yet, despite his mistress leaving the money with his father.

She'd left the money in the form of notes from the town bank. They were worthless outside of being traded at the bank for actual coin. It was also a sign of her trust in his father. Ten crowns was a huge sum for most people. That said, it wasn't much to Maria. She was happy to spend it to nurture a new magus. The spells Claude had gifted her was worth far more to her than money ever could be. This was barely the beginning of a repayment in her eyes.

He'd become the focus of quite a fair amount of jealousy as a result, and no small share of it spilled to his entire family, especially his father. Claude had not peeped as much as a word relating to any of this since he'd left for the wood, but now he'd finally come for the money.

He'd not expected to do it so quickly, but he'd underestimated how expensive magical materials were. He'd not wasted it all at least, he had forty tubes and twenty bottles of potions, and he'd also reforged Edmigar's sword and crossbow, but they were not going to turn into money anytime soon. The potions were too likely to blow up in his face if he tried to sell them, and, while the sword and crossbow had been reforged, they had yet to receive enchantments as Claude didn't know how to do that yet. Landes' diary said nothing on the process and all of Maria's books were on herbal medicine, not on enchantry.

Thus, he had no money, and no way to quickly make more on his own. He had little choice but to come asking for his salary. Well, he did technically still had some shaliuns left, about nine by his reckoning, but he had no mind to exchange them for normal crowns. They were worth much more to him as currency for direct exchange for magic materials and items on the black market.

He did have the method for making new shaliuns, Landes had been responsible exclusively for their manufacture after he'd become a two-ring magus, but Claude was still far from being one -- and he suspected it would take him yet months more after becoming one to master the minting process. It was not an easy one. Not to mention the materials involved were exceedingly rare, and one, viridian-gold powder, had not been seen on any market for hundreds of years. It was a powder made artificially through alchemy, and the process had not survived the war. Only the magi on Siklos still produced it, but they had few, if any, contact with the rest of the world, much less traded with it.

He'd actually completely forgotten about his salary, but his current monetary problems had reminded him of it. It was not much, but for the couple months he'd worked, he was entitled to six thales. It should be enough for him to purchase the common ingredients needed for his as-yet simplistic experiments. Right now he was most interested in beginning to experiment with firearm production using the array. He so wanted to make himself a revolver...

Morssen's eyes darted up to him from where it had rested on the newspaper on the table in front of him.

"You've run out of money? You had five thales from the crocodile's sale, right? What did you do with all the money?"

Claude stared at his father, not knowing what to say. "Father, that was a couple of months ago. I've used it all by now. I'm learning herbal medicine, remember? I have to make concoctions all the time and I have to buy the materials for it myself. The tools and the materials aren't ridiculously expensive, but I go through quite a lot of it quite quickly."

The five thales would be bad enough for his father, he knew, but if he was to find out Claude had actually spent fifteen crowns in less than two months, the man might actually really have a heart attack. If that gave him a heart attack, Claude wondered what would happen if he learnt he'd also spent sixty five crowns' worth of shaliuns in a single night? Would he perhaps physically explode? Would he become this world's first suicide bomber? Claude sighed, this seemed to be a truth that stretched across the boundary of worlds: money was hard earned and easily spent.

Claude had sold a shaliun for those fifteen crowns before he'd met Maria. At the time he'd believed the money would last him years. So he'd spent a good portion of it buying his siblings clothes and treating them and his friends to food, and buying books for nightly use. He didn't go look for women like his brother, but he still needed an outlet.

He'd not gone too far with it, or he didn't think he hadn't at least, however. He estimated he would spend a whole crown only in a year at that rate, so he still had fifteen years of money left, and if he could sell the rest of his shaliuns... He was set for life. But then he just had to go and get involved with magic.

He finally grasped just how ridiculously expensive the study of magic was. The actual magic materials needed for the array were obviously the worst, but the rest wasn't that bad, beside the crystal ores.

His father rapped his fingers on the table a couple times while he stared at his son, then got up, tapping the ash in his pipe out into the small iron ashtray beside the newspaper.

"Come with me."

Claude followed his father into the study obediently. His father planted himself behind his desk and took out a ring of keys from his pocket. He searched for a small copper key on the ring, then unlocked his drawer. From the drawer he removed a small green booklet with the royal bank's seal embroidered in gold on it.

"This is the bank book for the account Lady Maria opened for you. She entrusted me to give you the salary every month, but you're grown up so I'm giving it to you. It's up to you to manage your own finances from now on. I'm too busy to play accountant for you as well right now. I'm trusting you to control yourself; you understand? Don't spend the money before it's due you for your word."

Claude nodded, the question of whether he should withdraw some of the funds for more materials swirling around in his head.

His father sighed and handed the booklet to him.

"Thank you, Father."

"You're a smart kid, Claude," his father said suddenly, "You're coming along well. It may be that the family name will rest with you rather than your brother someday. You have to take good care of your little brother and sister and your mother if that ever happens, you hear?"

Something was off. The thought drilled deep into his head and shoved everything else aside. Claude had sensed the awkward atmosphere in the building the moment he'd stepped through the door, and this had only confirmed it was something serious.

"Are you alright, Father?" Claude asked carefully.

His father waved the question away and tended to his pipe again.

"I'm fine. Go. I still have a few things to do."

Claude eyed him for several more seconds but his father ignored him completely, so he sighed and left the study. He went to the kitchen to greet his mother and found Angelina helping her with the vegetables. He smiled mischievously. His father better not think he could keep his son out of the loop. He had informants.

Claude learned from his sister that his father had held another feast two days earlier. The atmosphere had not been as jolly as the last time, however, and a couple of the guests got into near brawls with one another at one point. Luckily nothing serious happened, and her father took his confidantes to his study shortly after where they stayed until well after midnight.

She didn't know what the fight and following discussions had been about, but the atmosphere had been like this since. Their father had not gone to work since and their mother had been somewhat sour as well. She'd actually scolded Bloweyk for begging for snacks soon after breakfast that morning. Angelina had heard their parents fighting in the study the previous night as well and they'd not spoken to one another at all today. Arbeit had picked up on the tension as well and melted away early the previous morning. They'd not seen him since and suspected he'd gone home -- wherever that was these days.

Claude decided to not get involved. He had little business interfering in his parents' business as long as it did not affect his little brother and sister. Besides, he trusted it would clear itself up in a couple more days. He instead decided to withdraw money for more materials the next day and sink back into his expensive hobby.

The family had dinner and Claude headed to his old room to get his winter clothes. He played with his little brother and his dog for a couple minutes before leaving.

He pondered what materials to get this time on his way back to the estate. He'd clearly mastered basic healing potions, so there was no point in making more of them. What should he tackle next though? His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden thought to visit Eriksson for his short-barrel musket. His array was too small to make full-length muskets -- being just 1.2 metres across -- but he might be able to squeeze a musket of Eriksson's length. He nearly slapped himself over the head, however, when he realised he was obviously not going to make the whole weapon in one go. The barrel would be made on its own, so he could make a normal length musket.

That said, if he practiced with a shorter version he could save materials until he had mastered the process, so he still had use for Eriksson's musket.

The horse and carriage thus trotted on into the night, heading for Eriksson's family pier.

Chapter 118 - Going Out to Sea

Pegg opened the gate and let Claude in. Before Claude could ask where Eriksson was, however, Pegg told him. Eriksson was out on the lake, maybe even the sea.

"He-he went out alone?" Claude gasped, "Why would he do that?"

Pegg stared at him, flabbergasted, then smiled bitterly.

"You know his father isn't back yet, right? Eyke left to go get his father without telling anyone. We only know that's why he left because he left a note."

Claude's mouth twitched. He had been so immersed in his work he'd forgotten about the whole fleet business. He didn't think he'd have known even if the fleet had returned. The fleet was scheduled to return on the 15th, but it had not yet. It was three days late by now. He also immediately knew that was why his father and his friends had had their argument, and why things had been stale at home since.

He also suddenly remembered what Eriksson had told him about his nightmares. If something had really happened to the fleet, half the town would lose money on the investment, and the other half would lose money from the drop in business from all the missing men and ships. Eriksson, however, would lose his father and idol. Setting out to sea on that little dingy alone, however... that was beyond impulsive and stupid. The winter was already here, and the sea was at its worst.

"When did he leave?" Claude asked, his mood beneath the ground.

"He left yesterday. I thought he was only going to fish, so I didn't do or say anything. I wasn't worried when he didn't come home last night either. You guys tend to do that a lot. When he wasn't back this morning, however, I got worried. When Welikro came to fetch him we checked his room and found the letter."

"Does Madam Eilina know?"

Eriksson's mother had a weak constitution due to complications during his birth so she rarely left the house. She must be strained due to her husband's absence already, if something happened to her son, however, she might not survive it.

"She does. Welikro handed her the note personally. They've been looking for a ship to go after him all day. But no luck."

Claude wasn't surprised. It was a fight to find a ship even at the best of times; they were all always busy with something. Now, however, when winter was here, and the sea was angry? He couldn't think of a single captain that would be willing to sail beyond the lake.

Claude jumped back onto the carriage and wheeled it around.

"I'll go to Eyke's place and check on them. Tell me if they find a ship. I want to go search for him as well."

Eriksson's house was in the south of town, not far away from the central plaza. It was three storeys tall and made of brick. The ground floor was rented by a silverware shop while the family occupied the upper floors.

Claude parked the carriage in the backyard and rushed to the door. The door was opened by Eilina's old chambermaid. She informed him that neither the madam nor Welikro had returned since they'd left that morning. So, having no other choice, he headed back to the pier. Luckily the two arrived about an hour after he got there.

The two came by the family carriage and Welikro helped Eriksson's mother down. They had found a ship, but they could only set sail the next day since it had to prepare for the voyage, restock, get the crew in, etc. since it had already been unloaded for the winter stay in the harbour. It was a pretty small little thing, crewed by just three besides the captain, though he would not be joining them. They'd had to find someone else to man the ship.

Welikro insisted on coming along, as did Claude once he got a word in.

"What about the estate?" Welikro asked.

"It'll be fine. The Sioris have been looking after it for decades. They'll manage without me for a couple of days. Speaking of which, I should head back and pack and let them know I'm going to be absent for a few days. But I'll spend the night here so we can leave as soon as the boat's ready," Claude answered.

Pegg brought Eriksson's mother her things, and she and Welikro set off to buy a couple extra things while Claude set off for the estate.

The Sioris were asleep by the time he arrived, so he shook them awake and told them what was going to happen. They had little trouble agreeing to look after the place without him for a while, and promised to say a prayer for the other boy. Claude couldn't help but feel that they were relieved he would be gone, if only for a few days.

Claude headed to his villa and started going through his clothes. He took out the warmest he had, as well as the sets that were water-proofed. He picked a goat-leather shirt and a pair of black, pigs-leather socks. He didn't take a hat or gloves, though. He now regretted spending his money too quickly. If he still had normal money, he could have just popped over to Wakri's to buy suitable clothes.

He took out his backpack, stuffed everything inside -- alongside five bottles of healing potion -- and headed for his laboratory, where he got a roll of rope. He glanced at the sword and crossbow, but decided against taking either. They wouldn't be of much use. He didn't take his musket either, gunpowder was notoriously useless at sea unless specifically treated and packed for use there. Even then the failure rate was abysmal.

He grabbed some leftover meat from the kitchen to have on the way back to town for dinner, and set off once he'd checked all his doors and windows were closed and locked.

He arrived at the pier an hour later, Welikro waiting for him. He and Eriksson's mother had bought several bags of food and alcohol. Eriksson's mother hadn't spared any expense; she'd even gotten fresh meat for everyone. She'd also gotten them brown bread instead of the usual black bread. Had this been a normal voyage, she'd have been ridiculed as none of the foods would have lasted long enough, but this was supposed to be a trip of only a couple of days, so no one said anything. The sailors especially were too grateful to have decent food on a ship for once.

Welikro sat on the two wooden boxes, which Claude noticed were stamped 'whiskey', and clanked vigorously whenever he shifted.

"Why'd you get so much good alcohol?" Claude asked.

"Eriksson's mom promised the sailors a bottle of whiskey per day each. They're free to drink or keep it. They have these--" Welikro tapped the two black ale barrels beside him, "--for drinking, and these--" He kicked the two whiskey boxes lightly with his ankles. "--for taking home."

"Eriksson's mom really went all out this time... Eyke is too immature. How could he sail out to sea alone?" Claude sighed.

It wasn't wrong for the boy to worry about his father, but he shouldn't have gone sailing alone. Danger aside, he forgot all about his sickly mother.

Welikro was in as bad a mood as Claude. He'd lost his mother with his birth and had just his father, who'd worked himself into alcoholism to raise him and his sister. His sister had taken over his mother's role a little too enthusiastically, which was why he was so deathly afraid of her.

Though Welikro hadn't experienced motherly love, he had his father and sister. He couldn't leave matters be when he saw how distressed Eriksson's mother was. He was going to give the little bastard a good beating on his mother's behalf once they found him. Claude only smiled wryly. There was little else he could do. The two turned in for the night soon after.

The lot were up before sunrise the next morning. Pegg had made sandwiches for everyone, which vanished with precipitous speed, but the boat was still nowhere to be seen. Eriksson's mother's carriage pulled up as they stuffed the last of the sandwiches in their mouths, and she joined them waiting on the boat. The boat came only after sunrise, well after sunrise.

"Captain Masro, didn't you say we would set out early? Why are you so late?" Eriksson's mother, Eilina, charged the large, red-faced man.

The captain simply yawned.

"I was worried you couldn't get all the supplies last night and would need some time this morning. It's not safe to set sail so late in the year, and the time of day isn't good either. We'll be sailing into the sun, and although I know the lake like the back of my hand, you don't sail blind if you can avoid it. We might be leaving later, but we can sail faster now that the sun is out of the way. We'll leave the bay beyond the lake no later than we would have had we left at sunrise. We wouldn't have agreed to go at all if not for Captain Altroni--"

Eilina shoved a finger at the food and drink.

"I had everything ready last night. Get them on the ship as quickly as possible. I don't want to waste a single minute more. I won't hold back if we can find my son."

Captain Masro eyed the supplies and rubbed his hand happily.

"We will, Madam.--" He turned to the three sailors. "--Get these things loaded!--" His eyes returned to Eilina. "--We'll do our best, Madam, don't worry. But, please understand, it is a big ocean, and a small boat. We cannot guarantee we'll find him. Hell, we might miss him even if we had his father's entire fleet looking for him as well. We have to be back in the docks in five days though. The supplies won't last any longer."

"You'll get the payment I promised even if you have to return empty handed. But you'll get triple that if you do find him. The two boys here are going with you."

Masro agreed quickly.

"Very well. There's still space for two boys. But they will be sailors and subject to my command."

Claude and Welikro nodded, then jumped aboard.

Chapter 119 - Search

The boat was a galliot, a twin-masted fishing ship. The owners of such vessels had to be quite wealthy, at least in the town's middle-classes.

Most gallioteers fished out in Sharkmouth Bay, in a particular tooth to the north of Lake Balinga. The tooth was a half-moon five kilometres across and about as deep into the land. It was the most popular spot for fish to congregate since its position relative to the bay's mouth made it the calmest of all the bay's teeth. The more adventurous fished out in the bay, near its mouth, but few, if any, dared venture beyond the bay into the open ocean. Sturdy as galliots were, they had neither the keels to handle the waves, the sails to withstand the wind, nor the anchors to hold fast in the ocean currents; and their captains generally lacked experience sailing on the open ocean -- something often more deadly than an ill-seaworthy vessel.

This meant they missed out on the most valuable fish, which generally kept to the open ocean, but their less valuable prey in the bay came in schools, so netting was far more profitable. Not to mention the calmer currents meant normal nets could be used, nets had to be far more reinforced to be used in the ocean, and those were prohibitively expensive to the likes of gallioteers.

Galliots were usually manned by five or six sailors, three of whom doubled as netmen. The captains were generally the ship owners as well, though there were a few who were hired by the ship's actual owners. Usually this was the case when a son who had pursued a non-fishing career inherited a ship from his father. And there were the occasional conglomerates where each captain, and sometimes crewmen as well, owned a stake in a conglomerate corporation and thus collectively owned all the ships through the organisation. Whitestag had about a hundred galliots, which formed the bulk of the town's fishing fleet.

Claude and Welikro were aboard the Miltiny, one of the older in the fleet at twenty years. Her captain was Syblon, a young captain who'd inherited her from his father. His wife was with child and expecting it this winter, and he'd run the boat ashore for the last two months and winter while he waited with his wife for the child to come.

Eilina had begged the captain to help her find her son, hoping his own imminent fatherhood would move his heart to her aid. He'd promised her Miltiny, but had refused to captain her himself, so she'd found another to captain the ship, a man named Makro.

Makro was a captain-for-hire. He had no ship of his own. Instead, he specialised in for-hire jobs for others with a ship but neither captain no skills to be one themselves. He generally handled cargo or fishing jobs for an upfront hiring fee and a commission on any profits made. He'd been down on his luck lately, however, thanks to several jobs that had ended sourly and given him the reputation as a scoundrel and sneak.

He'd never had a good reputation to begin with, it had to be said. He was a habitual gambler and fornicator, and spent more money on women and bets than clothes and food. Most good captains who did not start out with a ship inheritance, saved up enough for their first ship in a couple of good years, and traded up ships every five to eight years, working their way up the ladder in size until they found the ship with which they were satisfied. Not Makro, however. He'd been a captain for ten years and he still lived from paycheck to paycheck. He didn't have a single fenny's savings to his name.

Most of Syblon's crew had taken the opportunity to head to families afield of town and were thus out of reach. Luckily Eilina had found three sailors willing to take on the job at the same time she'd come across the voyage's captain -- all in Mermaid. The crew had, however, only agreed to a five-day voyage.

The three sailors were Ankess, Welik, and Krin -- old acquaintances of Makro's. Claude couldn't decide whether their names sounded real, or like aliases. When he asked the captain about it, he said most sailors had pseudonyms chosen by the crew and captain. Names had to be short, simple, unique among the crew, and easy to hear over the incessant noise inherent to the sea and ships.

Claude and Welikro quickly learned that, despite his bad reputation, the captain had a fair and amenable personality. It turned out he knew them quite well as well. He'd worked intimately with their fathers on a number of occasions. Though he could not be called a friend of their fathers', he was certainly a good acquaintance.

Claude knew he was playing up his relationship with the two boys' fathers at least somewhat, but it still allowed him some room for relaxation. He could trust, at least, that the crew would take their job serious, if only for the five days to which they'd agreed. Offending Claude and Welikro would not do their careers or general lives in town and the surrounding areas well, so the two could trust them to not muck about.

Makro's bad reputation was definitely not for his skills as a captain, which was another welcome blessing, and the three men in his crew were excellent sailors as well. Despite being the minimum crew possible for a galliot, they kept it sailing as if with full complement. The two boys had thought they'd be kept busy making up for the three crew-slots, but the other left them with hardly anything more to do than stand around and look busy.

Under the tender and capable ministrations of the captain and his three-man crew, Miltiny slid back and forth across the channel as she made her way up to and past Egret and into the bay.

The entire crew relaxed markedly once they passed the island, and each grabbed some alcohol. Makro got his hands on one of his bottles of whiskey, while the sailors took to the ale. The split had already been finalised before they'd set sail. The sailors were given a bottle of whiskey for each of the five days, and the rest went to the captain. Since neither of the boys had been hired for the job, they only got ale.

Claude took the chance to hear from the captain what the plan was before he got so drunk Claude might not understand what he was saying. They were going to circle the bay along the shore to check if he hadn't run aground or washed ashore. The crew and himself were to man the sails and wheel, and the boys would play crow up in the crow's nest.

Claude clambered up the mast with ill-practiced movements, only to give up about five-sixths of the way and sliding back down. There was no way either he or Welikro, or indeed any of the crew, were going to man the crow's nest. The winter winds were simply too sharp. They'd die of hypothermia a third of the way into their shift. He couldn't give up that easily however, he would never be able to live with himself of his absence from the mast meant they missed Eriksson, so he got extra warm clothes out of his bag, and put as much of it on as he could fit over his other clothes, and clambered back up the mast.

He could hardly see anything, however. The cold wind cut right through his eyes and blinded him. He could see nothing for the front thirty degrees to either side of their direction of sail, and could only barely make out vague shapes for the next fifty. He could only really spot for the rearward hundred and either to two hundred degrees, looking back along their path, and only by blocking the wind with a hand. As such he could not keep an eye on any one side of the ship for more than a minute before having to switch to his warmed hand and slipping his frozen hand back under his clothes for thawing.

The summer sea was a world of life, a bed of thriving organisms, but the winter sea was an empty void, an endless abyss of death. Even the sky hid itself behind dark-grey-to-black clouds, and the horizon was no less shy. The water surface may be devoid of life, but it was not devoid of activity, however. Waves bounced back and forth between the shores endlessly, driven by the frigid, merciless winter winds.

He and Welikro switched watch every three hours for three days straight, but they had no sign of Eriksson, in fact, they had no sign of anything besides grey nothingness. Even the shore, just one hundred to two hundred metres away most of the time, was just a ghost peeking out of the misty, grey void that had swallowed them since they'd left Lake Balinga. For three days, he had switched with Welikro nonstop now to keep watch up on the mast. But they hadn't found a single trace of Eriksson's small fishing boat.

They anchored by the bay's mouth for the third night, and the captain informed the boys they were heading back starting the next morning. Welikro blew up at him, Makro had agreed to five days of searching, not five days of sailing. Whatever time it took to get back to the dock was outside of the five days for which he'd been hired. But it did little to change the captain's mind. He just shrugged and said they were heading home in the morning. If the boys wanted to keep searching, they'd have to swim.

Besides, he'd said, the mist was thickening by the hour, and the wind had cooled considerably, not to mention that it was also blowing steadily and incessantly from the sea. These three factors together always spelt a blizzard. If they were caught out on the water in it, they would need rescuing themselves.

They'd found neither trace nor wake of Eriksson in their three days of searching, anyway. He was either out in the open ocean, or back on Lake Balinga, possible already docked and in his mother's arms. The captain carefully didn't mention the third possibility, that he'd been dragged under without a trace as happened so often in these early winter waters.

Welikro was struck dumb, but Claude's mind was still working. From how he knew Eriksson, where would the boy be waiting for the fleet? Borkal knew about the fleet's mission from his father, and Claude doubted Eriksson's father would not have told him as well. Eyke might have gone as far north as the Sea of Storms.

"I think I know where he is," Claude said.

"Where?" Welikro half belched.

"Krulu Island," Claude answered confidently.

Makro put down his whiskey bottle and frowned.

"Impossible, why would he go there?"

Krulu Atoll was on the southern edge of the Sea of Storms. A small outcrop of rock, sanded over by the wind and waves into a tiny stretch of beach and a small palm grove. Legend said it was the remnants of an ancient volcano, the caldera of which had since formed a small, self-replenishing freshwater lake in the middle of the atoll. It was quite a popular pit-stop for ships. Though too small to provide food other than what could be fished out of the waters off its beach, the lake provided ample fresh water.

It might have become a popular getaway or picnic spot for the rich as they toured the coast on their private or hired ships, but it was battered by weekly storms for more than half the year thanks to its location on the edge of the Sea of Storms. The storm surges frequently swamped the entire atoll save the lake, which was elevated above the normal sea level by several dozen metres thanks to the hard volcanic rock which had yet to give in and crumble to the sea's regular battering. That was a big reason why the grove was exclusively palm trees. It had no underbrush and no smaller plants. They had neither the height nor the roots to survive the storm surges in the atoll's loose sand.

The island, abundant in fish despite its general, acute lack of other resources, was named after the massive shoals of krulu, a regional species of flying fish, which fed off the coral reefs that stretched for kilometres around the atoll when they migrated past twice a year.

"Are you sure Eyke went to Krulu? Isn't his father taking the fleet further south? I thought the idea was to avoid the Sea of Storms," Makro asked.

Claude shook his head.

"He'll be there. I heard him say something about using the caldera's rim to watch the ocean. The waters there is abundant with the last of the krulu migration this time of year as well, so he won't lack food. It's just a day-and-a-half's sailing from here. If he isn't there, we can head straight home. Please?!"

"And you?" Makro asked, glancing in Welikro's direction, "You think Eyke will be there as well?"

Welikro didn't know why Claude was being so insistent, but he knew his friend enough to trust him, whatever his reasons may be.

"I stand with Claude. He has always had a sense for these things. Eyke will be there. If he's not, we'll just go home immediately."

Makro eyed the two boys for a long moment, then sighed.

"Fine. We'll set sail again at daybreak and sail through the night. We turn back immediately if we can't find him. Let's pray our luck holds and this--" He shoved his finger upwards -- there was no sky to which to point. "--doesn't turn into a blizzard like a fear it will."

Chapter 120 - Discovery

Claude didn't sleep a wink that following night. He spent half the night on the mast in two three-hour shifts, and the other half tossing and turning below decks, unable to close his eyes. His first shift below decks he couldn't sleep for worry. By the time of his second shift below decks he was tired enough to fall asleep, but the wind had picked up and the waves were rocking the ship violently. The small galliot was built and furnished for calm-water sailing. It had no hammocks for its crew, only several simple wooden beds, and the hull and deck boards creaked, croaked, and moaned violently under the strain of the open ocean waves. If Claude could sleep through one, he could not sleep through them both.

The portion of the crew off shift with him had little trouble falling asleep, however, though Claude doubted it was a comfortable rest. Makro had manned the wheel personally until two that night before handing the ship over to Krin and turning in for the remainder of the night.

Claude could not imagine how the captain could even stay on his bed, much less sleep, in this weather, but when he checked he saw the captain had had one of the men tie him to his bed and he was snoring contently. Claude managed to achieve the same result as his tie-in was concerned, but the violent rocking deprived him of any and all respite.

Welikro chirped in every now again to let whoever was at the wheel know it was clear ahead, the waves rammed the half-frozen hull incessantly, and the ship creaked an moaned with a voice of her own.

Claude found himself lamenting the poor state of his new world's technology and understanding of the world, but there was little he could do.

Krin and Ankess were on duty. Krin was a little older than Ankess, in is mid-thirties, and had worked as a sailor for more than seven years. Ankess was a quiet man. He had no choice but to become a sailor. He had few other prospects given his family's poverty. He had been a sailor for just two years and was barely more than a greenhorn.

Krin stood relaxedly behind the wheel, just one hand on it, but one ear strained constantly for any warnings from the crow's nest.

Ankess kept himself busy at the bow and checked the black void ahead every couple of seconds for any sign of obstacles. Nighttime sailing was incredibly dangerous anywhere but the middle of the ocean and was generally done only under dire circumstances.

Claude emerged from his cabin, half heaving on his earlier dinner, cheeks somewhat green, and stumbled along the deck to the helm. Krin smiled at him.

"Not asleep? Those two snoring too much?" he asked.

Krin was more talkative than he'd been so far on the trip. Helm duty could be very boring, and an ear to which to yap was welcome.

"Yeah, the snoring's bad. You'd swear they were each dragging a boat behind them."

"Haha, that's actually a pretty good way of putting it! That's why they usually have the nightshift. I always make sure I'm below when they're up top and up top when they're below. Can't get any sleep otherwise. But when you're tired enough, you can sleep through anything, even that."

The two chatted boring nothings for half an hour.

"Hold the wheel for a moment, will you? I need to light a smoke."

Claude obliged and Krin took out a large, roughly carved, pipe. It had much the same texture as a ship's hull, which Claude decided was hardly surprising. Krin dragged out a wad of tobacco and stuffed the cup. He struck a fire starter, held it over the cup, and puffed. Several unhappy puffs later the first smoke barked out between his lips. He inhaled deeply with his next draw, and more sighed the smoke out through his nose.

"Ah, that's the spot..." Krin smiled, tying the small bag with his tobacco again, "Nubissia really does have the best tobacco. Every self-respecting sailor smokes it. Only newbies and the uncultured smoke anything else. It burns the cold and weariness out of you like nothing else, and I've heard it can even help treat a couple ailments."

Claude frowned at the smoke's spicy offence, but didn't say anything. He could handle his father's tobacco much better. He still didn't like it, but at least his father's had a rich, almost creamy aroma, rather than this smell of burnt Indian curry.

"Want a puff?" Krin offered unwillingly.

Claude shook his head.

"Why don't you wrap the tobacco in paper like a small sausage and smoke it that way? You won't need a pipe that way," Claude asked.

"I suppose a pauper might do that. But no cultured smoker would be caught dead with such a thing. The pipe is half the taste, you know. It changes the longer you smoke it, and each pipe's flavour varies depending on what it burned before. Tobacco is expensive even at the best of times, and Nubissian tobacco is even more so. You can't waste it on the half-flavour of a paper-stick. Besides, pipes give you a dignified air, paper-sticks just make you look poor."

Claude merely shrugged. He had little interest in debating the aesthetic virtues of pipe versus cigarette smoking. It had just been an off-hand remark, anyway. So he stopped paying attention to Krin, who was still babbling on about those very aesthetic values.

Krin had fallen in love with the pipe and the leaves when, as a greenhorn, he'd been offered, and accepted, a puff from a veteran sailor. Even now, decades later, he still dedicated half his income to the holy leaf. He'd just had to get himself a pipe immediately back then, but he'd not had much money, and so had made himself one out of a piece of deadwood to be cast away from a damaged railing. He still smoked with that pipe today.

The black slowly turned into a dark grey as the sun rose above the invisible horizon and Claude sighed with relief. The sky was still the same lifeless grey, but he was actually happy about that. If it had turned white, it would have snowed, but that lifeless grey meant they wouldn't face snow just yet. That could change at the drop of a hat, of course, but for now all seemed well.

Welikro made his shivering descent from the crow's nest, small icicles dangling from his frozen hood. He took off his half-frozen gloves and handed them to Claude.

"What's the time? How much further to Krulu?"

Claude took the gloves gratefully. Krin had given them the gloves and Ankess the hood. The three sailors were themselves grateful they had been spared crow's duty, so they weren't too stingy with their warm clothes. It was also thanks to that gratefulness that they agreed to go to Krulu Atoll before returning to dock.

"The sun is still on its way up, so it should be about five. Get some rest. Krin said we'll be there in another four or so hours, and we should see the island in one, if this is just cloud cover and not mist," Claude replied, fixing the cap.

Captains still relied on constellation charts and north-needles to navigate, coupled with extensive sea charts, all of which were still much the same as they'd been at the time of the war. If at all possible, however, the captains preferred the constellations over the needle. Needles were notoriously finicky and inaccurate. It was still infinitely better than nothing at all, but it was generally relegated to backup duty for cloudy nights. North-needles worked quite well on earth, with its stable and orderly magnetic fields, but this world was much younger and had far more chaotic magma flows which screwed with the magnetic fields, making 'magnetic north' a very fluid concept.

Claude was in the nest for about an hour when he spotted the atoll. The mist had cleared, but the clouds were still the same lifeless grey and darkening. He was on his way down when Makro stepped out onto the deck with a lazy yawn.

The two boys had a sandwich each and a cup of tea. Makro had tea as well, though he only rarely sipped from the cup. Mostly it just sat on the railing beside him, clasped in his hand, as he stared at the steadily growing blotch of black on the grey ocean that was Krulu Atoll.

"I've been here many times," Makro said to no one in particular when Claude walked by, "If not for the frequent storms, I would really like to start a tavern here. Ships stop here all the time. I can't think of a better retirement than running a little inn where I can drink ale all day and listen to all the sailors' tales."

Claude glanced at him, but said nothing. He was not a seaman; he knew next to nothing about sailing and things related to it. He knew even less what to say to this particular captain. He did not think he and a tavern were a good match. Sailors had always been heavy drinkers, but he was a sailor's sailor when it came to drinking. So much so that more than a couple taverns had banned him, half of them for his debts, and the other half for his fights.

The captain sighed again, then turned his gaze to Claude.

"How will you search for him? Surely you aren't planning to go ashore. The best I can do is circle the island from a safe distance. The weather is too on the edge and can change too quickly. We don't have the anchor to hold in this weather. We'll be dashed on the rocks. And if we go ashore, we won't be able to get the ship away from the atoll in time it the weather starts changing. And my sailor's gut tells me it's going to change for the worse sometime today."

Claude nodded.

"Alright. Wero and I will keep watch from the crow's nest."

Makro smiled.

"I hope you're right. I want to find him, too. As for why he'd be here instead of further south, it's because the captain isn't going to the southern kingdoms at all, is he?"

Claude's eyes nearly fell out.

"Where did you hear that?"

The captain smiled, downed his tea, and turned to the helm.

Miltiny closed in on the atoll over the next three hours.

"Claude! Look! Isn't that Eyke's boat?!" Welikro shouted right next to Claude suddenly.

His shout drew everyone on the boat's attention and they followed the boy's gaze. Indeed. Not far from the shore a familiar mast pierced the water's surface.

"I don't know, I can't tell!" Claude howled, "Captain, take us there! Quick!"

Makro nodded and brought the ship around. They had just about closed the distance by half when Welikro shouted again.

"Someone's on the beach!"

He squinted for several long moments, then--

"--It's Eyke! I recognize his pants! It's the boxy green ones! It's him! He's collapsed on the beach!"

Makro brought the galliot about a hundred metres from the shore and they launched the dinghy. Welikro jumped off about ten metres from the shore itself and half-swam the rest of the way, darting for Eriksson's body.

"Eyke, Eyke!" Welikro shouted.

His steps slowed as he closed, then stopped about three metres from the other boy. Eriksson had not so much as twitched the entire time. The boy collapsed beside his friend and started crying.

Makro rushed past him and flipped the body over. He pressed his fingers to the boy's neck and felt for several long seconds.

"He's still alive! He's still breathing! It's weak, and he's ice-cold, but he's still alive!"

"What--?"

Welikro instantly forgot his tears and leapt to Eriksson, clasping his hand.

"He's ice cold but his forehead is burning up," Makro said, continuing his inspection, "He's badly cut and he's lost a lot of blood. Get him to the ship immediately! We're going home, now!"

Chapter 121 - Burning Coal

"Your concoction worked well. His external injuries should be okay. We should get back to town as quickly as possible, regardless. His fever isn't going down," Makro said, his hand resting on Eriksson's forehead.

Miltiny's sails strung heavy in the strong wind that had kicked up shortly after the away party had boarded again and the ship made for the bay and Whitestag beyond it with all haste.

Eriksson lay fastened in one of the cabins, naked, his wet clothes in a bundle in one corner of the room. He'd just been fed half a bottle of Claude's potion and the rest had been lathered liberally over his numerous wounds. Claude couldn't decide whether he wanted him to wake up and give them all some relief, or if he wanted him to remain unconscious and spare him the agony through which his wounds would put him.

Welikro sat at bedside and wiped Eriksson's forehead almost compulsively. The bucket was full of cold water from the sea. Salt crystals had already started forming in his hair where the water had dried over and over again.

They didn't have a choice, however. They'd rushed back to the ship after finding him without thinking about getting fresh water. At first they'd wrapped him under blankets to get the temperature in his extremities back up to healthy levels, but now his fever was pushing it to the other extreme and they had to cool him down however they could. Given how much alcohol they'd been given, no one had bothered filling the water tank.

"He must have pushed for the shore after his boat started breaking up. He must have run into a reef along the way. The crash broke his ship and the sudden stop threw him overboard, onto an outcrop, and that's what tore him up so badly. The salt's kept his wounds clean, but the blood loss and the pain must have made him pass out. Given his current condition I'd say he's been here at least since last night. If you guys hadn't insisted on coming, he would have died here," Makro said, carefully not mentioning that the boy's death was still a very distinct possibility.

"He's not cooling down at all!" Claude shouted desperately.

"Cold water and a wet cloth won't do much for that kind of fever. It should keep it low enough so that his brain won't stop working. I still have some whiskey left, rub some of it onto his skin."

Claude stared at him incredulously, but did as he said when he brought the bottle. To his surprise, it actually did help. His fever lowered somewhat, though it was still worryingly high, but most importantly, his breaths grew stronger and deeper.

Claude gave Welikro a light kick and shoved him out of the cabin.

"Go get changed before you end up like Eyke. I'll keep an eye on him."

Welikro just frowned at Claude then ignored him and focused on Eyke.

"Go! I'll throw you overboard if you fall sick as well!" Claude snapped.

Welikro's eyes shot to him, saw the utter conviction in his friend's eyes, shivered, and left.

Claude sighed with relief, then turned to Eriksson. Welikro and Eriksson had grown even closer since the four had split up to do their own things. They were more like brothers than friends now. Even worse, Welikro was the type to blame himself for everything that happened, warranted or not.

Welikro had nearly joined his friend in the sand when he'd thought he'd died. When he heard he was still alive, he insisted on carrying him back alone, not even Claude was allowed to so much as suggest he could help.

Claude didn't think about it too much. He was just happy they'd found him in time. He doubted it would have ended with just Eriksson's death, if he knew anything about Welikro. If it didn't kill him too, it would surely have ruined him.

Miltiny thrust through the water at full sail, her schooner rig showing their worth. Her masts bucked and groaned dangerously, but Makro pushed her as hard as he dared.

Two hours had now passed since they'd applied the whiskey. Claude and Welikro shoved blankets back over him, but his teeth continued to chatter.

"The cold must've chilled his bones. He'll start burning up again soon. We're still far from out of the woods. We should give him some whiskey. It's all we can do for now," Claude sighed.

Welikro poured a cup of whiskey down Eriksson's throat, and his teeth calmed, though he didn't stop shivering for a while. He soon started sweating, and they were back to uncovering him and wiping him down with a seawater cloth. And so they seesawed back and forth between warming and cooling him for the next two days while the ship made for Whitestag.

Miltiny docked on the 24th of the 11th month. Claude and Welikro had hardly slept more than a couple of seconds at a time for the entire trip and could barely stand.

Eilina was waiting for them on the dock as had become her habit since they'd departed, and had nearly dove into the water and swum to meet them when she recognised Miltiny's rigging. Her aid had kept her from doing something so rash, but he could not keep her from leaping onto the ship well before it had been properly secured, in fact, she'd leapt as soon as she was reasonably certain she could make it to the bobbing deck. Makro had to hold her against the mizzen mast and explain that Eriksson had to go to the apothecary immediately for treatment before she stopped fighting to go see her boy.

Ankess carried Eriksson off the ship and to the carriage, and it sped off to the apothecary. Makro and Eilina followed on its heels. Claude and Welikro, however, had passed out the moment they'd felt the boat stop rocking as the anchor lines secured it to the dock. Krin had to wake them and send them ashore so he could take the ship back to its moorings and officially hand it back to its rightful owner.

The two disembarked immediately and were greeted by Pegg. Claude gave him a brief summary of what had happened before leaving with the carriage. He dropped Welikro off at home, arranged to meet him at Eriksson's place, and headed home.

He came to the wood just in time to smell smoke. Thick clouds bellowed from the hills beyond the manor. The shock drove his exhaustion from him and he charged the carriage to the manor. Jemmy darted along the road furiously, nearly throwing the carriage on several occasions. The pair arrived at the manor, panting, but nothing seemed to be on fire.

Claude's mind turned to the old couple, who he had yet to see, and his spine cooled. He charged Jemmy around the grounds, shouting for them, but they didn't answer. He came back to the manor and stared at the smoke, which he could now tell was bellowing up from near the stream. His mind whirred and a single thought burst through. Hadn't Siori asked if they could make charcoal?

His heart started beating again, and he headed for the root of the column of smoke. His mind was blank when he crested the last bit of dead ground and saw the stream. 'The Old Charcoal Seller' by Bai Juyi swam into his mind.

'Both temples have ashen white hair, all ten fingers have blackened...'

In front of him stood two black figures, the Sioris, scooping charcoal from a mound into a sack while several mounds nearby were smouldering, pumping black smoke into the sky. They'd cleaned out the slope on the other side of the stream completely, bare soil stared back at Claude from foot to crest, and a couple shacks nearby were already half-full with charcoal sacks.

The charcoal mounds were built out of wood, covered in clay, with a single vent made at the crest, and a number dotting the base. The wood was lit through the vent holes, and it was allowed to burn until the flames started licking at the rim of the top vent. Everything was then sealed, and it was left to smoulder until it had cooled.

The couple clearly had had a lot of practice; the charcoal they were currently shovelling was clean and glassy, the best quality.

The couple were so busy with their work they didn't even notice Claude's hasty arrival and the two nearly jumped when Jemmy's sneeze alerted them to another presence.

"Supervisor Claude, you're... you're back," Siori greeted immediately.

"Those are?" Claude asked, pointing at the sheds.

"This... well..." Siori stammered, mustering a guilty smile, "Well, you see, Supervisor Claude, as we were gathering withered trees and fallen leaves, we also cleared out some of the overgrowth in the wood. Those are mostly old and withering trees. We thought it would be a waste to just throw them away, so we decided to make charcoal out of all the wood we'd gathered."

Claude jammed his heels into Jemmy's side and the horse lurched forward. He circled the chopped wood waiting to be stacked, inspecting it carefully. The wood was cracked and grey as withered wood should be, he could see no fresh cuttings, so he returned to the couple.

"Very well. Move everything to the storehouse. I doubt the Madam will run out of charcoal for a while. And drop a sack off at my villa when you're done."

Siori bowed and nodded with a bright smile.

"Of course, of course. I understand. I'll bring you a sack later."

Claude nodded, then turned around and headed back to the main grounds. He'd caught the couple red-handed. While they hadn't cut down any fresh wood, they were clearly not just making charcoal for themselves. They were no doubt planning to sell the charcoal in town. Claude decided to let it be this time since they had not touched any of the useable trees, though he would naturally take much of their charcoal to fill the manor storehouse. If they'd touched any of the younger trees, he'd have had to kick them off the estate and charge them with theft.

Such was his responsibility. Everything belonged to his mistress, and it was his duty, directly entrusted to him by his mistress, to look after her wood. The couple couldn't fell any trees, especially not useable trees, without his permission, and, as far as the younger trees were concerned, he had no right to give it to them.

He'd given them permission to make the charcoal under the impression it would be just a couple of trees for the estate's winter supply. He'd not thought they would try and sneak an industrial-commercial operation by under his nose. He could demand a share of their profit, but he had little interest in having an unnecessary fight with them, so he was willing to let them sell whatever surplus they had left after they'd filled the storehouse, this time.

Chapter 122 - Time to Make Some Money

Claude took a warm bath before plunging face-first into his bed. He'd barely made it this far, and he drifted away nearly immediately. The entire ordeal exhausted him in ways he'd not known he could be exhausted. He was both mentally and physically drained. He'd shot up in the bath several times, catching himself moments before dozing off and slipping under.

He woke up the next morning to a grumbling stomach. He'd not had dinner the night before, he remembered. He'd had just two sandwiches on the way back from the atoll. He'd gone twenty hours without eating, and had only had two sandwiches before that, wholly insufficient for a boy his age. As if to agree with his thoughts, his stomach growled again.

Claude crawled out of bed and downstairs to his kitchen. He didn't have much in the way or ready-to-eat stuff, but he had some black bread. Despite his hunger, Claude merely stared at the lump of bread in his hand. It was harder than the table's wood.

He tapped the bread on the table and it sounded much like banging two pieces of wood together. The sound reminded him of a story he'd heard about a logistics company being surrounded during a battle and arming themselves with black bread loaves for clubs. If memory served, they'd actually won the fight.

He wouldn't be surprised if the story were true, either. Black bread couldn't be eaten as-is. It was just too hard. It was generally used with soups or as a thickener in stews. It had one key virtue, however: it lasted a long time. It had barely any moisture in it which meant the mould and insect eggs that usually ruined bread couldn't grow or hatch in it. This made it an ideal ration for long term storage such as at sea or on the march.

This particular bread had been given to Claude a month earlier, and it had yet to show any signs of mould. He'd tried to eat it several times, but he'd never gotten more than the first bite in. He couldn't bring himself to throw it away, however. It had been given to him by the Sioris who'd learned to bake it when they'd joined their lord, Afess Fen Normanley, when he first came to the estate.

Hunger won out in the end and he decided to have the bread. It still had to be softened up, however, so he cracked a few eggs and mashed them with the bread to make crude noodles after having two raw bites.

He had to fetch wood from the storehouse first, however, as he didn't have enough in the kitchen. He dressed warmly, gathered his courage, and opened the front door. Cold air assaulted him the moment the crack opened, but he braved it and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. His eyes watered immediately, but once they adjusted he found a sack of charcoal waiting for him next to the door. He smiled, grabbed a couple handfuls, and darted back to the safety of the inside of his home.

He had two bowls of his noodles and left with Jemmy and the carriage.

Welikro was waiting for him when he arrived. He sat by Eriksson's side, but the latter had yet to wake. The boy did look in a much better state, however, and Claude's heart unknotted a little more. The same sinister apothecary that had treated Claude stopped by not long after he arrived and treated Eriksson with a crate of concoctions. Eriksson shivered and sweated for the rest of the morning, but regained consciousness that afternoon -- healthy appetite and all.

The apothecary left a bit of praise behind when he departed. Eriksson would have died if not for Claude and Welikro's timely arrival and careful ministrations on the way back.

He'd been discovered relatively quickly, so he should make a full recovery, though he would need to stay in bed for at least a month, and at home for another two.

Eriksson's mother wept when she heard the good news, and swore she'd keep the boy at home even if she had to tie him to his bed. Her gratitude for the two boys knew no bounds either, but she couldn't leave them by Eriksson's side despite her gratitude as the apothecary had instructed Eriksson was to rest alone.

Neither of the boys wanted to interfere with their friend's recovery, so they left without complaint, though they refused his mother's reward.

"Tomorrow's graduation, but Eyke can't go," Welikro moaned when they left the house.

"It's already the 25th?" Claude asked, "Wow, time really flew. I would've forgotten all about it if you hadn't just mentioned it. I have to go remind my parents. Where should I drop you?"

"Drop me off at the pier. I left my fishing stuff there. I want to go fishing this afternoon."

"You still want to fish? You're completely hooked, aren't you? You should get treatment!"

Welikro just sighed.

"I don't have much time left for fishing, Claude. I might not have any chances after today."

"What do you mean?"

Welikro didn't answer. The two just sat in awkward silence until Claude dropped Welikro off at the pier. Pegg opened up for them and the two headed for the room Eriksson had taken as his own in the office building.

The four had long used the place as their secret base, but once the four stopped spending their time together, Eriksson had turned it into his and Welikro's home away from home. The two often stayed there on weekends and breaks.

The two's fishing equipment was naturally stored there as well. Eriksson's musket was there as well, and Claude took it.

"What are you doing?" Welikro asked.

"Too bad that Eriksson's sick. I'd have liked to borrow it for a while. I need a backup for when I'm hunting in the woods."

"You want to borrow it?" Welikro said casually, "Just take it. It's not like Eyke will use it anytime soon. Think of it as looking after the gun for him. He won't mind as long as you look after it well. Just remember to write a note and hand it to Uncle Pegg. It's not really a big deal."

He was right, Claude thought, Eyke had no use for the musket at the moment, and wouldn't for some time yet. As long as he knew what was going on, there was no need to make a big deal of this, and he knew the boy wouldn't mind. Claude immediately wrote the note and prepared to leave.

"Take the rounds as well. They're in the drawer." Welikro said.

Claude handed the note to Peg and the two left. Claude dropped his friend off at his home, then headed for his parents' house.

His father's mood was still the same. The fleet had yet to return, and his stress was getting worse. Claude even noticed a single, solitary grey hair in the middle of his hairline. Much like his father's mood, the house still felt the same. His parents were speaking now, but they said only the barest minimum to one another, and there was none of the usual warmth in their voices.

His father mumbled a quick prayer when he heard about Eriksson over lunch, then lit his pipe. He spent the whole afternoon brooding in his study.

Claude spent the rest of the morning playing with his little brother and sister, and the dog, and left after lunch. He stopped by the bank on his way home to withdraw some money from his salary account. He had to wait nearly an hour before he was finally helped, and left for the market with six thales. He bought spice and food, then headed home.

The afternoon would be spent in the wood, so Claude took care of the carriage, dropped off his supplies, got his own musket, and headed off on patrol. Truthfully, however, the patrol was just an excuse to hunt. He'd thought about taking out all ten crowns while waiting for the receptionist so he could boy more materials for his practice, but he decided against it. He would be a responsible adult and pay for that with hunting.

He'd underestimated how expensive practice was since Landes had talked about frequently continuing his sessions for three days straight. But he'd forgotten to remember that Landes was given all his materials for free, while Claude had to pay for everything.

Claude now had to pay for everything he used in his daily life as well, from clothes to food; everything came out of his own pocket. He couldn't just spend all his money on frivolous things anymore, so he decided to live off of his salary, and hunt for the funds needed for his practice. Besides, he didn't trust his father to not go snooping around his account to check up on his spending habits, and he could do without the man finding out how much he spent on a regular basis.

His usual hunting grounds along the well-trodden trails and outskirts of the wood wouldn't levy enough prey, however. If he really wanted to hunt for his money, he would have to go deeper into the wood. If he could find a turkey or some good boars, he could make the money he needed relatively quickly, too. He'd run into Pjard a few days before he'd set out to save his friend, and he'd told him that if he ever had more of them, he'd buy them. And if he couldn't find what he needed in the wood, there were always the hinterlands beyond it.

Chapter 123 - Graduation

"Today is the day you step out of school and become a new force to strengthen our kingdom. You are the most accomplished group to graduate from this school yet. It is my honour to have watched you grow as this school's principal, and to have seen you turn into individuals useful to our king. Whether you join the government, start your own business, or march of to the frontlines to guard the peace and protect the rest of us, you must never forget whom you serve."

When the principal finally said, 'We are proud of you graduates!' and ended his speech, the instructors standing behind him started clapping and the parents joined them half a heartbeat later. The students joined in unwillingly in two's and three's.

"He says exactly the same thing every year, word for word. I doubt he's even bothered to change the tone or pauses," Borkal moaned. He'd only clapped twice while his father was staring holes in the back of his head.

"No idea. I didn't listen to a single word he said," Welikro said, "Look, even Claude isn't even bothering to hide his boredom. Where's his mind wandered off to, anyway?"

Claude sat in the row in front of his two friends, but his mind was indeed elsewhere. Locked in his own little world, he was figuring out the details of his money-making scheme. He didn't want to have to rely entirely on hunting. While it was pretty decent at making a profit, it wasn't fast enough to his liking.

Foremost amongst the approach's problems was that he was not catching enough big game. That could be remedied, however, by going to the hinterlands beyond the estate. At least, Claude hoped the remedy was that simple.

He wasn't too happy to have to rely on hunting as a transmigrator. He felt he was letting down the legacy of tranmigrators. He even more didn't like that he was basically just gambling on running into prey. His odds weren't too fantastic, either. It wasn't uncommon for hunters to return home without any kills for weeks on end, even months. It had grown only harder to find prey in recent years. The town's explosion in recent decades drove the wildlife further away, most either into the swamp to the north, or into the mountains to the south. Only the tiny animals remained, those physically incapable of making the journey, or those unwilling to leave someone behind.

Hares and turkeys were easy catches, when one ran into them, but they didn't fetch a good price. Pjard had said he'd buy whatever Claude could catch, but he doubted the man would buy thirty hares. He certainly wouldn't buy them for a brilliant price, and the town market's prices would be even worse.

Cladue, for all his faults, had a good imagination. Unfortunately for all his brilliant ideas, few of them were practicable. This world did not put much stock in a youth's creativity, and his father certainly wouldn't invest a fenny in him. Even if he put all that aside, the kingdom's cast system made it severely unlikely any of his efforts would be successful.

He might be able to put some of his ideas to use in ten years or so when he became a dignitarian, but they were useless to him now. Right now his only hope was a good streak of luck and a steady aim.

The world wasn't fair. Or, more accurately, no world was fair. The niros crocodile episode had taught him that. His father may be a big fish in this pond, but he certainly wasn't the biggest; and the big fish ate the smaller ones without mercy.

The thought had crossed his mind a couple of time that, had his father not had the position he did, and had his friends' fathers not also occupied positions of similar esteem, they might not have gotten a single fenny for the crocodile.

Sir Fux, in turn, may be the biggest fish in Whitestag's usual pond, but Maria was a crocodile from the river. When she demanded he sell the crocodile to her, he had little choice but to nod and smile. He was just lucky she decided to offer him a decent price.

The frog eats the dragonfly, and is eaten by the fish. The perfect description of the world's way. Claude's only consolation was that, as perhaps a shrimp in such world, he could at least do something. As long as he kept his head down, and didn't end up with something too eye-catching, he wouldn't be eaten.

He'd thought of putting some of his knowledge to use and opening a delicatessen. He could make meat buns, fried biscuits, and any number of other snacks. But then he'd have to deal with his strict father, and the realisation made him give up on the idea. His father would not let him start such a business. 'Shame to the family name,' and all that.

To his father, his cooking skills made for good bragging rights when he cooked for the family, but heaven forbid he chose to start a business with them.

He could go the route of becoming a franchisor, but he couldn't trust anyone besides his friends. Borkal was a born and bred merchant. He couldn't let him in on such an endeavour. While his father didn't care about small profits, he would swallow up anything that promised decent profit.

Many businesses were ignored when they were small and attracted much unwanted attention when they started showing potential.

Claude knew he couldn't ride such a wave, being such a little thing. Given all he knew, hunting was still his best option, it had the smallest potential to blow up in his face, at least.

Borkal nudged him and snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What's up?" he asked.

Borkal motioned towards the platform.

"They called you, go! Wero's already there."

Claude snapped up and started for the stage.

Not all graduates were called to the stage. Only the top graduates in each course were called. It was considered an honour, not that Claude really cared.

Most parents beamed happily when their children were called, but Claude's father' smile was as obviously plastered on as their own teacher's moustache.

Eleven students from the physical course had been called to the stage since Claude and Welikro had tied for first place. Well, technically Claude was second, several points behind his friend. But Claude had outdone him in swordsmanship, which counted a little more than the others and made up most of the difference, though he still fell one point short. Claude's father, however, held a higher position in town than Welikro's father, and so the principle decided to tie the two in first place.

Luckily Welikro agreed with the principle. He felt he had an unfair advantage thanks to his physique. Claude had the better technique. If they'd been equally matched physically, Claude would have won hands down.

Claude felt the whole thing was just a big charade. He had no respect for it, but he had to endure for his family's sake. Though he'd transmigrated as a student and gone to school for two years, he hadn't ever seen the principal teach a single lesson. Yet, he was giving away the graduation certificates with the expression of an understanding school counsellor and patting the students on the shoulders. He blabbered encouraging words like he actually knew the children.

Claude had a flat expression, carefully neutral enough to hide his boredom. The principal gave him a pat on the shoulder, some encouraging nothings, Claude bowed, and continued on.

Welikro, on the other hand, was very emotional.

"Thank you, Principal! I won't let your hopes down!" he roared when he took the certificate.

The loud voice gave the old man a start, causing him to drop a few of the certificates. Claude felt like scratching his ears. Damnit Wero! He really didn't know how to keep things low, did he?

Claude picked up the certificates and handed them to the principal.

"Not bad, not bad..." the man murmured, patting him shoulder again.

Welikro wanted to apologise, but wasn't given the chance as the next person came up and the principal was too happy to get on with it.

"Did I do something wrong?" Welikro asked in Claude's ear as the two departed the stage.

Claude just tilted his head, choosing to remain wisely silent.

The principle babbled another speech when the ceremony came to an end, then the ceremony finally ended. All but a few of the graduates were invited to attend the post-graduation celebration. Claude wished he could skip out, but he had to attend for public appearances. He made his attendance as short as possible, however, and slipped out the first chance he got.

Borkal was waiting for him at the gates as they'd arranged earlier. He said he had something important to tell Claude.

Chapter 124 - Martial Law

"I'm leaving Whitestag," Borkal said.

Claude didn't really pay it much heed. It was normal for Borkal to leave town during winter to survey their business holdings in the three southwestern prefectures.

"Going to survey the shops again?"

"No, I'm going to my aunt's in Simlock. Dad's not going, he's waiting for the trading fleet," Borkal said sadly, "I don't know how long I'll be away. I might not be back for several years."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Were they going to be apart for good?

"My uncle pulled some strings and I'll be going to Banjilia, Simlock's capital. I'm joining the keepers there. Dad will only allow me to be discharged after I gain enough dignity to become a dignitarian. I'll only be joining the keeperage's logistics department, so I'll be doing paperwork. It's very hard to gain dignity that way, so I'll be very long before I can become a dignitarian. But I'll be safe."

"When are you leaving?" Claude asked.

He didn't bother trying to protest or saying they could somehow keep this from happening. It was obvious Borkal's future was set in stone and there was no stopping it. He didn't expect that out of everyone Borkal would be the first to join the military; he had thought it would be Welikro.

"Noon tomorrow." Borkal looked down and kicked a stone on the ground. "I'm going to see Eyke later. I saw his mother. Instructor Weckham handed her Eyke's certificate. I was going to ask about Eyke, but she left as soon as she had his certificate. I want to go check on him before I leave. Even if I don't get to see him, I would've at least tried. I feel bad for not being able to help find him."

"It's not your fault," Claude said as he patted Borkal's shoulder, "Eyke got into trouble because of his own fault. None of us thought that he would be brave enough to sail in his little modified fishing boat out to open sea. It happened so suddenly and Wero and I were so anxious about looking for him that we forgot to notify you about it. You don't have to feel bad for it, it's our mistake."

Borkal nodded, but he didn't respond. He continued to kick the stone on the ground moodily and seemed to be in a real sour mood.

"It's going to be fine, Boa. Even if you go to Simlock, we are still the best of friends. Even though we won't be able to meet, you can still write to us. As long as we know each other's whereabouts, we can easily write back," Claude consoled.

"Alright. I will write to you guys," Borkal muttered, "I still have some things to take care of, so I'll go back first. Bye, Claude."

Borkal turned to leave. Claude could see the boy wipe his face with is back turned. It looked like he was crying. However, Claude could only watch as he left. They had graduated and would turn 18 the next year. They were adults and had to be responsible for themselves; there were no exceptions.

Borkal would be leaving Whitestag tomorrow morning. Claude didn't know whether he would be able to meet him again in the future. His father had told him about the plans he had in mind for him for the future, so after the trading fleet returned, he would be going to Tyrrsim in Nubissia the next year to see his viscount godfather, whom he hadn't met before, and join the military there. He didn't know when he would be back in Whitestag either. The days he could continue spending in the wood were numbered.

Claude didn't want to go back to school to participate in the celebratory banquet. His carriage was parked at home and he had gone to school with his father in the town hall's carriage. All he wanted to do was to walk on the path he took to school for the past three years with his mates and immerse himself in the melancholy.

After he got home, his mood only recovered after being pestered by his younger brother and the snowhound. Angelina's school break also started and she was currently helping their mother cook. She asked whether Claude had eaten, to which he shook his head. His mother nagged him about not getting a good meal at school since the food at the banquet was definitely much better than what was served at home.

After having a simple lunch, Claude played with the snowhound and Bloweyk by using a small wooden ball for a game of fetch. Bloweyk seemed greatly humoured by it and clamoured loudly. It was only when Madam Ferd went over to get him to go take his nap that he went upstairs unwillingly.

Angelina on the other hand was reading quietly in the dining hall. She was already fourteen and was growing more mature and well-behaved by the day, just like a graceful young lady. Claude went over to stroke her head, much to her anger, since that messed up her hair.

He took a look at the book in her hand. it was a small encyclopedia about the various maritime lifeforms that were discovered. However, the book didn't cover the behaviors of those organisms, and focused instead on their economical value, such as which types were profitable and fetched better prices.

Having greeted his sister, he drove his carriage back to the wood. He decided that from that day onward, he would hunt properly for more funds for his alchemical experiments.

In the coming days, Claude's life turned really busy and fulfilling. He hunted at the wood and set up many snare traps at the southern hills of town. With Jemmy, he could cover a much larger area during his hunts.

The only thing that wasn't quite to his satisfaction was that Pjard stopped buying any more animals after being sold around 50 of them. However, he did manage to make seven thales from the transactions. His family also got quite sick of eating hare and turkey day after day, and his sister even nicknamed him the turkey slayer. In the end, Claude decided to make the ten plus animals that remained into smoked meat and jerky, hanging them from the eaves of his villa.

Apart from the hares and turkeys he hunted, Claude also got a large grey wolf, three wild goats, two large boars, one red-pelt fox, and two hog badgers. Claude sold them at the open market and managed to save up to three crowns in total.

Given how busy he was at hunting, Claude forgot to pay attention to news of the trading fleet. The atmosphere in Whitestag only got more ominous as time went on. Rumours were spread in the taverns and Morssen had stopped smiling a long time ago. His mood at home got progressively worse alongside his smoke addiction. Madam Ferd would also space out often, thinking about something beyond Claude.

Claude only had his mind fixed on hunting. Apart from bringing some prey back home, he didn't interact much with his parents and would return to the wood after dinner most nights. Morssen also wasn't willing to talk to Claude about his venture. The way he saw it, Claude was merely a child and he was already doing a good job if he could take care of the wood.

There was only a week remaining until the new year. Claude rode down the hill on Jemmy. On the horse's rear was the carcass of a matured cloud leopard, Claude's spoil during this particular hunt. The cloud leopard had come out to hunt when the snow stopped falling and tried to go for Jemmy. In the end, the hunter became the hunted. Claude merely used a simple Mental Shock spell to render it helpless from being shot squarely in the head.

Claude felt rather excited about it too. He didn't think that it would snow heavily for three days and when it stopped, he thought of going uphill to see whether he could find any deers or goats. He didn't expect to be attacked by the cloud leopard at the foot of the hill. Fortunately, he was prepared and cast Mental Shock the moment he saw a shadow leaping for him, before shooting it with his gun.

Claude brought the carcass back to the wood on horseback. After selling it in the open market the next day, he would have saved up around five crowns in total. It was enough for a box of whiteroot powder. Last time, Hurian sold him one box for seven crowns and he had foolishly agreed to that cutthroat price.

He didn't think he would find whiteroot powder for sale at the open market for only 18 thales a box, which amounted to about three crowns and three thales when converted. It was nearly half the price of what Hurian offered. The thought of that gave Claude the urge to skin Hurian alive. He had only earned around a crown after hunting hares and turkeys for nearly a month.

He put his matchlock gun in his hut and fit the carriage onto Jemmy. He loaded the carcass onto the carriage. Just as he was about to head to town, he bumped into the old couple, who were on their way back from selling coal. They were driving the old carriage which was emptied of coal sacks. It looked like their business went pretty well, given how early they returned after they left to sell their coal after the snow stopped.

However, the couple looked a little odd, as if they had something they wanted to say. Claude didn't really mind it and politely said, "You guys may pass first. I'll move to the side."

As the carriages passed each other by the sides, Siori turned around and said, "Supervisor Claude, the town is full off passing soldiers. Please be careful when you go there."

Soldiers? It's going to be the new year in a few more days. Why would any army come to town at a time like this? Did they have nothing better to do than to spend new year's here?

When he reached town, he realized they weren't just passing soldiers. Instead, it was a blockade. There were many soldiers dressed in dark blue uniforms stationed on almost every street of the town. They weren't armed with the Aubass Mark 2, but rather, the slightly dated Kemley Mark 3 matchlock.

They weren't soldiers in the standing army, but rather the keeperage of Baromiss. Why would they suddenly be posted at Whitestag?

On further observation, it didn't seem like there was much trouble, given the aloof expressions of the soldiers. They weren't that disciplined either and some would even chat merrily with the women who were there to see the commotion. However, they didn't reveal the reason they were there and only said that they were there to temporarily put Whitestag in martial law.

Claude's carriage was stopped by two soldiers. When they found the carcass of the cloud leopard within, they caused quite the commotion and got the other soldiers nearby to come take a look. After that came a military officer which displayed a most amicable attitude. He took a look at the carcass and asked Claude for his identity. When he was told that Claude was the supervisor of Normanley Wood, he hurried the other soldiers away and let him pass.

Claude gave it some thought before heading to the old tavern and calling Pjard out to check on the carcass.

"How much do you want for it?" asked Pjard as he cast a pitiful look on Claude.

"I just hunted it fresh this morning. Feel it, it isn't even hardened yet. Just name a price. If it's appropriate, I'll sell it to you and won't bother bringing it to the open market," said Claude excitedly without noticing Pjard's gaze.

"Eight thales then. The pelt alone is probably worth a crown, but the meat and bones are not worth much," offered Pjard fairly after some thought.

"Deal, this cloud leopard is yours." Claude was quite happy that he got that price for it. He thought that it would only sell for around six or seven thales at first.

Pjard called some servants from the tavern to move the carcass inside before he handed the money to Claude. "You haven't gone home yet, have you?"

"I haven't," said Claude with a nod.

"Go back, then. Your father was arrested this morning," said Pjard with a sigh. He just informed him about a nightmare.

"What?!" Claude stood there, frozen in place.

Chapter 125 - Crime

Claude drove his carriage through the streets frantically. Fortunately, the keepers didn't stop him. The carriages were only checked when they entered or left town, nobody bothered them once they were in or out of town.

He didn't see a crowd outside his parents' house like he'd half-expected when he arrived. The crowd was there, mind you, just not in front of his house. They congregated outside the shops on the other side of the street. They pretended to not be there to watch what happened at his parents' house, but he saw their eyes sneak glances at the building too often. More obvious was the fact that they stopped talking the moment he showed up and stared at him.

Claude ignored them. His only concern was finding out what had happened to his father.

His mother was seated at the dining table, her eyes drowning in tears as she wept silently. Bloweyk sat opposite her, fighting back tears of his own while he held the snowhound tightly, though the cause of his tears were more physical: a big palm print on his one cheek. Angelina was in the kitchen mopping up what looked to be a red tea spill. Pieces of the old family teapot lay piled in one corner of the room.

The snowhound bounded out of Bloweyk's arms and darted for Claude the moment he entered the room. Bloweyk followed suit, running at Claude, his arms outstretched for a hug and letting his tears finally flow freely. Angelina's cheeks remained dry, though her eyes were swimming in them, for several long seconds after she noticed her older brother's presence, then her tears spilled over and her cheeks drowned quietly.

"What happened?" Claude asked, staring at his mother, "Why was Father arrested?"

His mother shook her head, hear eyes finally returning to the present and turning to her son.

"I don't know... I was making breakfast when several soldiers and two officers came over with a decree. They said your father had put the crown in danger... they dragged him away before he even had a chance to grab a slice of bread!"

How could they do that? And how on earth could his father have done something to put the crown in danger? He was only a small little town chief secretary. What power did he have to endanger the crown? This had to be some intricate practical joke! They were practically accusing him of treason. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if that was exactly what they did eventually, if they were serious about this. He'd be executed, probably shot or beheaded in the middle of town.

"It has to be a mistake!" Claude shouted.

He might have believed the accusations were at least possible if his father had been arrested for corruption -- though he didn't believe for a second his father had, or would, ever do such a thing -- but endangering the crown? Not to mention the closest he'd come to committing a crime was leveraging his influence to get favourable deals when he bought shares in small local businesses, though he'd not had to play that card in years since he'd built up a good name as both an upstanding man and excellent investor.

"There's no mistake. That was what the military officers announced when they came over this morning. We heard it really clearly." Madam Ferd was also aware of how serious that allegation was. Panic and despair were visible on her face as her tears continued to trickle onto the table.

Angelina nodded furiously.

"Mother was so shocked. When she saw them suddenly grab Father and drag him away she dropped the teapot."

"Did dad say anything when they arrested him?" Claude asked, picking his little brother into a hug to get him to stop yanking at his pants, which were threatening to fall off.

"No. He just gave his pipe a final puff then let them take him. He didn't even put up a fight."

Claude finally noticed the ivory-and-mulberry-wood pipe of his father's clutched nearly to snapping point in his mother's hands.

Why had his father not said anything? He doubted his father would have stayed this quiet if he'd been surprised by the arrest, so he must have known it was coming, or expected it to come at some point, at least. But did this also mean his father was guilty of the charge? He didn't think his father would have stayed quiet if he were innocent either. If he didn't snap at them furiously because of their standing or power, he would at least have calmly, and firmly, explained everything.

"Speaking of people not saying a thing, where is Arbeit?"

"He left to find out right after your father was taken away but he hasn't come back yet."

There were very few things Claude could trust his brother to do, but finding out what had happened to their father, especially when it might affect his inheritance, was one of them.

"He didn't. He took dad's in-house savings from the study and ran away," Angelina answered, destroying his hopes of a reliable Arbeit, at least where his money was concerned.

"What money?"

"He didn't run," their mother said hastily, "He said he was going to find out what had happened to your father, but he'd need some money to get people to talk, so I gave him the household stash."

"He took all the money we had in the house. We can't even buy food anymore," Angelina continued despite a furious glare from her mother.

"Brat!" her mother suddenly shouted, "Do you only think about food like your little brother? Isn't your father more important than a couple meals?!"

"How much money did he take?" Claude asked, ignoring his mother.

If Arbeit was really going to use the money to find their father, Claude would leave it be; but if the bastard was wasting it, Claude might just accidentally trample him beneath Jemmy's hooves if he quite literally ran into him.

"Ten thales, I think," Angelina answered, "I don't know exactly how much. But it's all of it. He emptied the chest."

Their mother stored the household allowance her husband gave her every month, along with all the money she'd saved over the years from spare money from the allowance for unforeseen circumstances, in a small chest she hid somewhere in the main bedroom. Each month's allowance accounted for all of their father's normal monthly salary. He kept the rent money from their converted mansion for his personal use and savings.

Now Arbeit had made off with everything, and the moment Claude heard how much money he had taken, he was absolutely certain they would never see the money again, and not because he'd given everything to the police to buy the soldiers' silence. Claude didn't really care to set him straight, however. His only concern was getting back his father. Claude put the eight thales he got for the cloud leopard on the table.

"I'll give you some money. If anyone asks about dad, just tell them you're not sure what happened," Claude told his little sister, "We have to stay calm. We can't go breaking the family up now. We should be closer together now than ever before."

"Stop crying, Blowk," Claude said, slightly impatiently, as he put his little brother down, "Let's go wash your face."

Claude hadn't noticed the palm print on the boy's face yet, but he did now, and his face darkened.

"Who hit you?"

If one of the soldiers had dared hit his little brother he would blow them up with a Magic Missile or melt their brains with several dozen of his mental attacks. He didn't care deeply about much in this world yet, but no one touched his little siblings, not even when they deserved, or even needed it. The thought that it was somewhat unhealthy occurred to him a couple of times, but he didn't care. He had been an only child in his past life, and he was not about to let anyone do anything, even if it was right and needed, to his little bubbles.

"It was Old Brother. Blowk was crying really badly, when Mother went upstairs to get the money, so Old Brother slapped him to make him shut up. I stayed in the kitchen because I was afraid he would do the same to me if I came out. He even kicked our dog when he tried to bite him. He said he'd kill it himself if it tried it again, so Blowk's been holding it back since then," Angelina explained briefly.

Claude took a deep breath and forced the anger down. If Arbeit had been standing in front of him when he'd heard this, he might have just killed him on the spot. He didn't like how that bastard behaved the moment his father wasn't there to keep him in line. It foretold too much what he would do the moment his father passed and it came time to argue about the money and property he would have, and hopefully still will, leave behind.

I'll make him pay for it a hundred times over when I have time, Claude thought.

"Have you all had breakfast?" he asked, trying to distract them.

His mother shook her head again.

"No, and I don't feel like having anything now. "

Claude nodded, but headed for the kitchen nonetheless.

"You go rest in your bedroom, Mom, I'll finish breakfast," Claude said, "I'll let you know if Arbeit comes back with news."

She nodded and wiped her eyes again.

"Alright."

His mother almost tripped on her way upstairs. As if her pale face and lost eyes didn't show clearly enough how shocked she was. This was her first truly great mental shock of her entire life. It was made even worse by the thought that her husband might be executed and she'd have to look after three children on her own, without a good income, and maybe without anyone at all, if the crown's forces decided to take the mansion from her.

"Anna, finish cleaning the kitchen and I'll finish breakfast."

"I don't want bread. I want to noodles!" Bloweyk shouted in his ear suddenly, making Claude nearly drop him.

He gave the little brat a vicious glare and the boy shied away from him, pale-faced.

"I can't make any noodles now. Have some bread for breakfast. I'll spread a little honey on the bread and make some egg soup, okay?"

"Okay. But I want noodles for lunch!"

Claude sighed at the little piggy that only thought about food and wondered if he was going to become a fat, oily, spoiled young master when he grew older. If he were honest, however, the boy already was.

The three headed for the market with the snowhound after breakfast to do a little shopping. They got food for the next week and Claude got feed for Jemmy. He didn't expect to be returning to the estate for a couple days, a week at most, so Jemmy needed food.

News had already spread across town of their father's arrest and they got interested, skewed, and suspicious gazes everywhere they went. No one was stupid enough to make trouble for them, however, just in case the rumours were false, or if their father got through it undamaged.

Claude fought with Bloweyk over a couple prawns while their sister bought some potatoes.

"Big Brother, the one who sold me the potatoes, Miss Linnie, said the soldiers didn't arrest just dad. They've arrested a lot of the important people in town. Uncle Thomas was taken as well."

Claude stopped wrestling with the little piggy and stared at his little sister. Why had the chief constable been taken as well?

"You sure?" he asked.

"That's what Miss Linnie said. She said her husband saw Uncle Thomas being dragged away by some soldiers. He fought back but they knocked him out."

Claude felt the edge of a realisation gnaw at his mind.

"Let's go home. Take care of Blowk. I'll go check what I can find out."

"Okay."

Chapter 126 - Garrison

Claude rode Jemmy around town and found the keepers from the prefectural capital had captured nine people in all, including Borkal's father. If Claude remembered correctly, they were all guests his father had invited to dinner. They'd all been involved in the business with the trade route to Nubissia.

It was certain they'd been arrested in relation to the fleet as well. They were the masterminds behind the endeavour, and now they'd all been arrested. The chances of it being mere coincidence were miniscule beyond belief. He didn't know, however, if the fleet's failure to return had something to do with the navy as well, or if something else had happened to them and that was what had prompted the arrests. He didn't know how the fleet, their activities, or the new trade route could endanger the crown, either. They were just sailing to the colony to do business, after all. The worst they were guilty of was tax evasion, if they didn't declare their trades, of course. The loss of a little tax was hardly an endangerment of the crown, however. Maybe the fleet had stumbled onto some grand national secret along the way?

Whatever it was, however, it certainly had something to do with the fleet and their new route. And if it really did, then there was next to nothing he could do for his father. He would only make things worse for himself and his family if he got involved. The best he could do was find out as much as he could, take that information back to his family, and figure out how to weather the coming storm. That wasn't to say he wasn't going to take a chance to help his father if one came along, but going looking for one, or worse, trying to make one, would only put the rest of the family, himself included, in more danger than they already were.

He stopped by Pjard at the old tavern first to ask for news, but he couldn't help. He knew only what the rumours said; that Morssen had been arrested and taken from his home along with a number of the town's other major figures. He told Claude to go see Kubrik. Apparently the keepers were in town to stay, and were going to build a garrison on the outskirts of town. They'd drafted a couple of locals for the construction work, and a couple for garrison duty itself -- Kubrik was in the latter group.

Kubrik, of course, was Welikro's father. Claude didn't doubt his draft had everything to do with his skill with the bow and musket. If the the town's leadership had been charged with treason, he didn't doubt they'd be suspicious of what other treasonous activities were going on in the town. They might just be thinking of something like rebellion. If that were indeed the case, it wouldn't do to let them have such an excellent marksman.

The town's hunters had formed a guild about two hundred years ago. They were very territorial over their hunting grounds, and disputes were frequent and regular. The guild was established mainly to regulate who hunted where and resolve any disputes, but it quickly evolved into a union of sorts focused on representing the hunters' interests with the local government and providing other benefits to its members. It had slipped into decline over the last forty or so years as farmland replaced much of the hunting grounds and most people of the last two generations either took up more commercial occupations that kept them in town, or went to the city. Just ten of the town's youngest generation were seriously considering becoming hunters, and no one expected any from the next generation to take up the occupation.

That made the keepers a tempting option for the town's hunters. They were well-versed in the skills the keepers wanted, and it offered a steady, fixed income and a way to climb higher than their station in life -- something the guild could never offer. Most of them were former soldiers to begin with, and, though most were also dignitarians, few had an actual decent station, being a hunter could not compare to being a soldier, or officer of the crown. And they could easily become officers if they weren't just given the rank from the get-go. The crown did prefer retired veterans for commissions rather than fresh recruits. It was thus more likely for them to be be commissioned than drafted.

Claude made for Welikro's house with all haste. It stood at the far foot of the first hill west of town. Luckily Welikro was home, in the middle of butchering two hares. He had a small stack of wood ready to be lit nearby.

He saw Claude coming a while off, and stared at him, confused and somewhat suspicious. He knew Claude well enough to know his current haste was not a good sign, but he'd just return from his hunting trip and had not heard anything about what had happened in town.

"Is your dad home?" Claude asked between light whinnies from Jemmy and gasps of his own before he'd even come to a complete stop in front of his friend.

"My dad?" Welikro asked, then shrugged, "Don't know… Sis!!!" he shouted suddenly, "Dad home?!"

He didn't wait for an answer, immediately turning his attention back to Claude.

"I've been in the hills till just a few minutes ago, so I've no clue. Why are you looking for him?" Welikro asked, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Well, I..." Claude began, but Welikro's sister poked her head out of the window on the first floor.

"Oh, it's lil' Claude. Dad's gone to the mayor's office. B'n summ'ned ‘n all that. Left this morn'n. Hav'n't seen'm s'nce. Try any of the bars ‘n town. He'll pro'bly be there drunk, as usual. If you're hop'n to cath'm sober, I'd come back t'night, late… That reminds me. It true your dad's b'n arrested?"

Claude nodded bitterly. Welikro's eyes turned into saucers at his sister's words.

"Why's your dad been arrested?" he asked.

Claude just winced in his direction, a sad smile on his lips.

"For endangering the crown, apparently. I don't know what he did, and I've not been able to find out anything more since I first heard. Dad's not the only one, either. Boa's dad's been taken, too, as well as seven others."

"Something to do with the trading fleet?" Welikro asked.

Hunter's son or no, he had a few working brain-cells, and they were all currently doing overtime.

"I think so. Can't think of anything else this might be related to."

He bit his lip secretly. He was not used to information being this scarce, but he had little choice but to live with it. Electricity was still at least another 100 years off, longer if the progress since the war was any indication, and anything resembling the internet yet farther still. Newspapers already existed, but they hadn't had enough time to collate the stories and publish them, though most of it would be the same rumours and hear-say he'd already heard, and he didn't have the patience or time to wait.

"You want to ask Dad about that?" Welikro asked, "How can he help though?"

"The keepers have taken over the town and they're building a garrison on the outskirts and manning it with drafted locals. They're no doubt going to start with the hunters. That's probably also why he's been called to the mayor's office.

"With your father in the garrison, he can come and go from there as he pleases, and get more information than we will be able to. I wanted to ask if he could help me figure out what was going on."

"I'll ask him for you when I see him," Welikro nodded, "Want to wait for him? You should stay for lunch at least.--" Welikro swung the rabbit with which he'd been busy when Claude arrived. "--We're having rabbit!"

"I'm fine, thanks. I really need to get home. Mother's lost it, and Blowk isn't much better. Anna's holding it together, but she's not far off from losing it as well," Claude said, turning Jemmy around, "Can you ask around town as well, please? Since your father hasn't been arrested, people might be more willing to talk to you."

"I'll ask around."

"Thank you."

The words lingered heavy in the air for a moment, then Claude darted off and Jemmy's hooves drove them away.

Claude cooled and dried Jemmy off when he got back home and left him in the backyard with a bucket of feed and another full of water, then headed inside. He stopped in the kitchen long enough to make noodles, then headed upstairs to check on his family.

Angelina lay on her bed. She stared at the ceiling for all of her brother's brief, until he mentioned nine other people were arrested, at which point she darted up. Claude consoled her. It was better if more people were involved. The town might have shut up about it if it had been just his father, but with so many people, and so much of the town's strength, taken from it, the people would start demanding answers, and sooner rather than later.

Claude wasn't about to take the chance that the fire in them would die out before they got to doing something, either. He planned to stop by and ask them about what happened after lunch, and maybe drop a few hints that they should try and put some pressure on the keepers together. Polite pressure, of course, but pressure nonetheless. His mother stopped him when he was about to head out, however. She said the keepers might just decide the gathering was another sign of treason and take action.

Claude hadn't thought about that. Paranoid at heart as he was, his paranoia had never really been of the kind that could let him see how others might be paranoid as well. He supposed when it came to looking after the family, few could compete with his mother, least of all himself. She'd never had a formal education, having been too old to be sent to school when it was opened to girls as well. Her life's ambition had been to be a loyal housewife and a mother of her mother's calibre. Her family was her life, and distraught as she might be about her husband's arrest, she was not about to let it tear the rest of her family from her one way or another.

That said, thanks to that very same lack of education, she didn't know much about the kingdom's laws. Claude did, however. It was not illegal to gather peacefully, nor could the mere fact that a group of people had gathered be used as grounds for arrest or judicial action. Claude explained this to his mother for nearly an hour, but she eventually caved and let him go.

The rest of the afternoon was spent going between the various families, but Claude got nothing out of it. No one knew even as much as he did, much less more, and they were all scared so shitless they could go a year without using the outhouse. They were nowhere near a state of mind that could be used to put pressure on the keepers. Two had even already splintered, the children, both a few years older than Claude, fighting over what had not yet even been confirmed to be inheritance, and another's wife had simply vanished with everything not nailed to the floor or physically built into the walls.

Borkal's family were the only other ones who'd also started taking action. His mother had already sent letters by horse courier to her and her husband's extended family to ask for help. Borkal's family was still fine and his mother wrote a few letters to some of her acquaintances to send help for her husband.

Despite the bit of good news, Claude achieved nothing with the afternoon. In fact, it felt like he'd just slipped back four steps. He trudged home, leading Jemmy by the reins on foot and made dinner. He walked Jemmy to Welikro's house again afterwards.

Arbeit had yet to return when he'd left.

Welikro's father burst into a bout of swears and curses that lasted almost ten minutes when Claude asked him about the garrison. Luckily everything was aimed at the mayor, Baron Robert, not Claude, though that did little to keep the spittle from painting his face as he sat quietly, waiting for the man to calm down.

It turned out it had not so much been a commission into the keepers as an order for him to work as a civilian contractor under the keepers in town. That was even worse than being drafted. As a contractor, he had none of the perks of being in the military, he was even lower than a greenhorn, as-yet-untrained recruit, but he had all of the same responsibilities and duties. On top of that he'd been told to get 224 others to agree to the same set-up!

Even worse was that they were to focus on preparing the town's defences against a seaborne pirate attack. A pirate attack! On Whitestag, the town that sat a day and a half's sailing from the ocean on a lake, connected to the sea by just a relatively small causeway around an island! They could literally just dump a bunch of logs in the causeway and stop anything and everything upwards of a skiff getting into the lake at all. What need was there for a garrison and 227 men, contractors no less, to man it?

Kubrik might be a hunter, but he, like his son, had a couple bright brain-cells. He knew it had to be an excuse to cause a split between them and the town. The keepers wanted to make sure he and his fellow hunters didn't join any unrest that might start up in town because of whatever they were up to, and they even planned to use him and his friends to put any such unrest down! They were ordering him to be their boot!

There was an alternative, however. That there would indeed be a seaborne assault on the town, but one sustained enough to need such extensive countermeasures. The only force that would do something like that, however, was a foreign military. Everyone knew war was never far off. Skirmishes along the borders were a constant item in the newspapers, so frequent and regular were they that a couple newspapers had actually started regular columns dedicated to reporting on them, mostly satirically. But everyone had grown so used to them that they'd eventually put the thought, unforgotten but unattended, in the back of their minds.

No one else was happy with the setup; Kubrik more-so than almost anyone else. So much so, in fact, that he'd all but threatened the mayor with a report directly to the prefect. Things had only gone downhill from there and he'd left with everyone else called there in a near storm.

Chapter 127 - Mayor Robert's Plan

Claude was quite curious with what kind of plan Mayor Robert had come up to enrage everyone he summoned, especially Welikro's father, Kubrik, so badly they lashed out and threatened to report him. What kind of hatred could spur that?

Those present were mostly retired veterans. Whitestag was small, but there were 50 and they would be in the garrison. Mayor Robert's plan required at least two-thirds of the veterans to agree the kingdom demanded it.

Stellin IX had travelled the continent before his ascension, and he was made ombudsman by his father upon his return. He immediately got to work reorganising the kingdom's garrison forces. He soon realised many garrisons were manned by villains who didn't have the slightest combat ability and often threatened the locals. Most were actually just extensions of the nobles' and officials' greedy claws. Though they were officially considered part of the kingdom's army, they were no different from being the nobles' private armies.

He had no choice but to start his journey on a bloody path to reorganise those garrison forces. He purged, by trial in most cases, and by fist in others, the town watches and the officials and nobles behind them. That singular act was most of the reason no nobles initially supported him when he took up arms against his siblings.

He still won, though, and when he ascended he declared that watches and garrisons were to serve their charges, not exploit them.

This is a good point to explain the country's military. The kingdom's land-based armed forces was split into three entirely independent pillars. The army was the first. It was constituted of the forces under the king's command via his appointed officers mandated with protecting the king and his lands, by any and all means so deemed necessary, from the armed actions of others who claimed their own right to rule. They had no de jure or de facto responsibility to enforce the king's laws, however, and as such rarely acted domestically, unless there was a large-scale uprising or an extensive natural disaster. Their main presence was along the kingdom's landside borders.

They did have extensive powers, however, quantified and expounded by various laws under the ‘by any and all means so deemed necessary' clause of their mandate. One of which they were particularly fond, was to conscript locals to do the menial labour in major construction projects such as erecting new bases or various military installations. They did not, however, generally conscript villains. In fact, it was very difficult, if indeed practically possible at all, for a villain to have anything to do with the army other than as their professions -- mainly prostitution -- guaranteed. They weren't outright banned from volunteering, but there were stringent background checks, exams, and evaluations almost no villain was likely to pass since they'd had to have done something in contravention of those rules to become a villain in the first place. The military also wasn't a career for them as it could be for the peasantry. While the peasantry could rise up the ranks and eventually become dignitarians, and dignitarians could rise even further and become nobility, villains almost never became anything more than menial labour and occasional cannon fodder.

The second pillar was the keepers, mandated by the king to maintain, by the means deemed so necessary by the king through his relevant regulations, the loyalty and obedience of the king's subjects -- both those living in peace under his reign and those serving in his armed forces. Unlike the army, they had the de jure responsibility and power to enforce the king's laws as expounded under the ‘maintain the loyalty and obedience of the king's subjects' clause.

The keepers were divided into two branches, the constabulary and the keeperage. The keeperage was the combined equivalent of old earth's ‘special police' and ‘metropolitan police'. They operated in defined zones, called keeperages, usually in and around the prefectural capital and any other big cities in the prefecture, and were only rarely deployed to the countryside outside of them. Each keeperage was an 800-to-900-man-strong tribe, made up of four clans. The keepers rarely, if ever, deployed forces outside their keeperages in any strength less than a whole, full-strength clan on the rare occasions they did operate outside their own areas.

Constabularies operated in defined zones, much like their keeperage counterparts, also called constabularies -- but these were generally more rural in location and centred around smaller settlements such as large towns or villages.

The keeperages were manned exclusively by retired military veterans. Coastal keeperages tended to have more navy personnel, while inland keeperages had more army personnel. Their constabulary counterparts, while they did technically allow civilians to join them directly without having first served in the military, rarely had a shortage of retiring soldiers such that they opened recruitment to civilians. As such, the entire keepers were almost entirely just keepers, the keeperages so by regulation, and the constabularies so by supply.

In peacetime, a soldier generally had to serve for fifteen years to earn enough dignity to become a dignitarian. Those who made it into the keeperages usually spent their first seven years with the military, then retired to join the keepers where they served for their remaining eight years, while those who didn't, usually retired to the constabularies instead, though they generally remained with the military a year or two longer than those that made it into keeperages.

The keepers, keeperage and constabulary both, were also part of the broader reserves, though they were less likely to be called up than retired-to-civilian-life veterans, and when they were, were generally called up to more specialist units and senior ranks in accordance with their skills and experience.

The third branch of the military were the sentry forces or guard forces. Their numbers fluctuated greatly depending on the kingdom's needs. For example, in war time they might make up as much as a third of the entire armed forces, deployed behind the front lines to keep the peace and maintain control in occupied areas. In peacetime, however, relegated to simply sentry duty, they were a minor presence at best, relegated to the positions well behind the kingdom's borders too unimportant for the army to bother watching over themselves, but that still needed some kind of presence. The old fort ruins on Egret Island was one example.

Their unit sizes were just as fluid as their overall size, varying depending on how many men were needed to reasonably guard a position, though they were rarely anymore than a clan strong in any one location. Despite being part of the kingdom's armed forces, they were not, however, under the king's command through any appointed officials. Instead, they generally reported to local governors or officials under mandate from the appropriate authorities, such as the keepers, the navy, or the army, and were, as such, funded by those people.

As lax as their general administration might appear, and generally was, the regulations governing their use and operation was very strict. Since the king and his upper government or military did not have direct administrative command of such forces, and did not generally directly call for or disband the individual units, they were very careful to legislate their operations and powers in such a way that they could never be used as private armies. One of the regulations was that only civilian-life-retired veterans and, in extreme circumstances, civilians in the peasant caste or higher could serve in them. Villains were outright banned from any service in guards, and the families of villains made so by heinous or treasonous crimes were also banned from service.

Welikro's father finished cursing Mayor Robert and downed a bowl of blackwheat ale, then got to the business of the baron's plans.

The prefecture's keeperage had mandated him with the formation and maintenance of a clan-sized guard of no less than 200 men. They'd supply the baron with some initial supplies and send ten officers to evaluate and train the candidates, but thereafter everything had to be handled, and paid for, by the town's government.

The lowest grunt positions could be filled by peasants from the town, but the command positions had to be filled by people of experience, by veterans, hence the baron's summons of Kubrik and his compatriots.

Everything sounded fine thus far, but then came the kicker. The town didn't have the money to fund that kind of a force. As such there were just two options. Either they had to levy a special tax on people, or they had to rely on donations and unpaid volunteering.

The baron could not afford, given the town's pre-existing general apathy towards him, to levy a tax, so he was expecting Welikro's father and his compatriots to volunteer for unpaid service. Well, their service wouldn't be entirely unpaid, but the stipend they'd receive would just barely be enough to cover the absolute barest, poorest minimum of living expenses.

They could live with that, and they could live with a donation drive, but what they couldn't live with was the sum he was demanding. He'd demanded enough money to fund an entire tribe, let alone a clan. And that would apparently only cover the initial set-up costs. They'd still have to get money for the operating costs thereafter.

The final nail in the coffin was the mayor's solution to this continued need for money. He would not levy a special tax in his name for it, instead he would have the guard directly expropriate the funds from the townsfolk. Rather than destroy his own meager reputation with the dirty work, he was going to have them destroy their reputations doing the dirty work for him.

No one was dumb enough to become his scapegoat, however. The more educated of the men there, which was not many, immediately pointed out how unnecessarily large his demand for initial funds was, and the rest all at least understood what was going on with his demand that they expropriate the funds rather than him levying a special tax.

There was also the matter, which the intelligent ones also considered, but did not mention, that, since the funds would be deposited into the town coffers, and redistributed from there, rather than being used directly by the garrison, there was no guarantee these funds would be used for their actual intended purpose, or be used at all.

The mayor shrugged and said he'd done his best without his treasurer, who was one of the people arrested. He did not have a particular fair financial mind, and this was just his best guess at the costs.

The baron was the only big shot in the government still walking free, and thus had de facto control of all the major officers. He was in control of the treasury, the constabulary, and the administration since the treasurer, chief constable, and chief secretary had been arrested.

Despite the inordinate amount of power the baron held at the moment, however, none of the veterans were going to play his dogs. They all marched out.

Desperate to get them to stay, he made another offer. The fishmonger, Bidlir Blanche, was willing to donate enough to keep the force afloat, and would also look after their supplies on condition he was made a bandsman in the unit and given freedom to choose who he wanted in his band.

If the mayor's previous proposal had brought on indignation, then this one brought on absolute fury and it had been at this point Kubrik had threatened to report him.

"Is he crazy? With what guts did he make that proposal? He's placing his life in the hands of Bidlir Blanche! He won't escape if something happens!" Kubrik shouted again, furiously.

Everyone knew Bidlir Blanche. He maintained a facade of legitimacy with his fishmonger and his two hundred employees, but he was really Blacksnake's boss. He was the single biggest crime boss this side of the prefectural capital and he was not named Butcher Bill for his butchery of fish.

Nobody dared act against him, however, not openly at least. That said, they were certainly not going to give him any chances to further his influence and power.

Despite his position, and the many years for which he'd already held it by then, he'd only been invited to his first meeting and banquet with the town mayor after Robert took over. Even then, nobody interacted with him. They bade him the customary courtesies, then excused themselves and made for the other side of the hall.

The baron was the only man who didn't care about the man's connection to the Whitestag underworld. Everyone had ignored his cosiness with the man for years, but this, this pact to give the bastard even more power was going too far.

He was clearly taking advantage of the absence of the three men who had thus far kept him in his place and limited his ability to make any substantive overtures towards Bidlir to do just that.

Kubrik was right as well. Bidlir had no business being a bandsman. One had to be a dignitarian to occupy a position of command in the guard and he was just a peasant. Then there was the matter of giving Bidlir authority to make his own picks for his men. While that in and of itself was not a breach of the regulations, everyone knew who he'd pick. He would bring in his people from Blacksnake, all of whom were villains, and that would be a breach of regulations.

Finally was the worst one. Bidlir would be the garrison's financier. Money was the most important aspect of controlling an armed force, hence why the king had made such stringent regulations regarding the guard since he wasn't its financier.

Chapter 128 - Tricked Veterans

"I don't understand why he insists on mingling with that man. Doesn't he know how bad a reputation he has? He's not just the owner of a fish plant! He's actually the boss of Blacksnake! Doesn't the mayor worry that he shouldn't be involved in any trouble concerning that man?" commented Welikro.

His sister came over and gave him a knock on the head. "As expected of my foolish brother. You couldn't even see through such a simple matter. Even though Mayor Robert has a Title of baron, it's not hereditary. He knows that it can't be passed down to the next generation. Even though his son is a dignitarian, I heard he's just some failure of a playboy.

"It's obvious that the baron knows that his son is long gone, so he placed his hopes on his grandson instead. He doesn't want his grandson to be a normal person in the future, so he paid a huge price to become mayor and wants to use his post to earn back some of his money and gather some wealth for his descendants' future.

"So, he doesn't really care about Bidlir Blanche himself, but rather, his money. That's the real reason he tried to rope the man in. As for what Bidlir's other identity is, that has nothing to do with the mayor. He could simply claim that he's been duped if it really comes to that.

"Bidlir Blanche is not exactly parading his position in Blacksnake around. The local patrol force isn't able to find any proof of his association with the gang anyway, so the accusations are rumours at best. They're not surefire evidence. As long as no crime can be directly pinned to him, then he's considered a lawful citizen who pays his taxes and operates a proper fish-processing plant. There's nothing bad about the mayor hanging around him."

Welikro looked at his sister with shock. "How do you know so much about this? You even know about the mayor's grandson..."

Welikro's sister shook her head and sighed. "You just weren't paying attention. Didn't the mayor boast about how smart his grandson is when he was drunk at the old tavern once, and say how he was placing his hopes on him? Just think about how he became mayor in the first place. It becomes obvious if you associate it together."

Claude was quite surprised himself. He had thought that Welikro's sister was only a large brute, but he didn't expect her mind to be so sharp and complex. She was able to deduce all that based on the drunk ramblings she heard once.

"I find it rather curious though..." Claude tried his best to pick his words carefully. "Mayor Robert is no idiot. He knows that if he brings up the proposals to expropriate and donate, his last proposal to associate with Bidlir Blanche definitely won't fly. Why did he do so in the first place then? Does the inconclusive meeting benefit him in some way?"

Kubrik said with dissatisfaction, "It's not like we don't agree to his two former proposals, but the amount he requested was far too much. The garrison clan has 224 men and we only need to spend around 224 crowns for it. The weapons and equipment will be provided by the prefectural capital so we don't have to bear those costs. All that remains is the maintenance of the encampment, the food and medicines and other miscellaneous supplies, which won't cost more than 50 crowns. If we include the salary of the members, we'd only need around 300 crowns at most.

"The biggest costs to form the clan lies with the compensation to the families and the military equipment. After those are taken care of, there's not much else to worry about. Yet, that dogshit mayor actually wants us to gather 1200 crowns! Does he think we're idiots who don't know how to count?

"Also, it'll only take less than 2000 crowns to maintain a garrison clan each year. A member of the force is only paid a thale each month, so a unit of 200 plus will only cost less than 500 crowns to pay per year. Some additional expenses would only bring that cost to around 800 crowns. Yet, he argued that we haven't factored in training costs and said that two thousand crowns is far from enough each year. What a load of bull.

"His idea really is decent and he even wanted us veterans to make such a request to the prefectural capital ourselves and let the town hall implement it after it gets passed. He's trying to pass the blame and responsibility down to us while he alone controls the finances and spending. We won't even know how much he stuffs in his own pockets! Ptooey, he can dream on! He really thinks that we're idiots..."

"Sigh, Father, you all were tricked," Welikro's sister said, "Mayor Robert brought up the two proposals to agitate you so that it'd be easier for him to segue into his third to let Bidlir sponsor the garrison clan.

"Since the meeting ended with you guys raging out, the fault lies on you veterans. As the mayor, he has done his best to come up with three different proposals, yet you didn't agree to a single one of them, so it would appear that you don't want to follow the order to form a garrison clan at all."

"But... But his proposals are all ridiculous!" Kubrik's expression was a little blank.

Welikro's sister shook her head. "Actually, the expropriation and donation plans are rather sound to those in the prefectural capital. You mentioned that forming a garrison clan would only require 300 crowns, but that's actually far from enough. You only considered the needs of the soldiers themselves, but it didn't occur to you that the formation process would cost money too. The encampments also have to be fortified and maintained and the horses and employees will also have to be paid for too.

"I recall that you said the prefectural capital made that order on the grounds of defending the town from pirates. No matter whether those pirates really exist, since the order was given, the defence fortifications have to be taken into account as well. A few sentry towers will have to be built and they'd have to be fitted with cannons. Who would man them would also have to be considered, so 1200 crowns isn't ridiculous at all.

"Additionally, the cost of two thousand crowns to maintain a garrison clan might sound on the high side, but it isn't unreasonable. The prefectural capital said that they would provide the equipment needed for the formation of the garrison clan, but nobody said they'd continue to supply them indefinitely. I think it's a one-time thing. In the future, the garrison clan will have to pay for the gear themselves. Mayor Robert was right too in that the training of new recruits would cost a lot. Having 2000 crowns per year isn't a lot at all."

"Were we wrong to object to it then?" asked Kubrik with frustration.

"You weren't wrong to object because you believed that Mayor Robert is taking advantage of this opportunity to fill his pockets. You were only used by him. If you only give it some thought, you'd understand that the council members in the prefectural capital aren't fools. If the mayor really came up with a ridiculous amount, he'd definitely earn their suspicion. The mayor isn't someone to make that kind of mistake. You were at fault because you didn't see that coming. All you actually had to do was to ask to be given the rights to manage those funds."

"That's right... I'll contact the rest immediately and bring this up at the town hall tomorrow. We'll gather whatever amount of money the mayor requests, but we'll make sure we have supervision over its use to prevent him from pocketing them." Kubrik got up and sped away.

"Umm, Uncle Kubrik..." Claude had wanted to call out to him, but given how busy the man was with dealing with the matter of the garrison, there's no way he'd have the time to go to the military encampment to find out more about his father. There wouldn't be a point to ask. Just as he was about to leave, he saw Welikro's sister sigh.

"What's wrong?" Claude asked.

Welikro's sister gave it some thought and said, "I suspect that my father and the others are too late. Mayor Robert definitely sent a messenger to the prefectural capital to inform them about the results of the meeting. Given that expropriation and donation takes too huge a toll on the people, the council there might not agree to them.

"So, most likely, the plan with Bidlir Blanche as the sponsor might really come through. Those people there don't know who Bidlir is after all, and they might even see the donation by the fish-processing plant owner as an act worthy of praise."

"But Bidlir Blanche is only a peasant. He's not a retired veteran. On what basis can he be made a bandsman?" argued Welikro with dissatisfaction.

His sister gave him another knock on the head. "It's all your fault for not studying. There's actually precedent for this. During the second war between our kingdom and Nasri, there was a captive revolt in the prefecture of Alfies. Thousands of Nasri captives beat the guards to death and robbed guns and ammunition before escaping into Mokanin Mountain Range. From time to time, they would form raiding parties to raid towns or passing convoys.

"Back then, our kingdom was in a stalemate with Nasri and our rear was really empty. The soldiers at the frontlines couldn't be moved back and couldn't deal with the rogue elements within the kingdom's territory. So, a rich merchant in Alfies, Krunzt Charlie used his personal funds to hire hunters around the Mokanin Mountain Range and formed a garrison clan for the town. He had the rogue soldiers encircled and spent only a month to force those soldiers to surrender by choking them of supplies.

"After the war, Stellin IX gave Krunzt Charlie the Title of baron and officialized the garrison he formed. The council in the prefectural capital might use this precedent to agree to let Bidlir Blanche to sponsor the garrison clan's formation and warn our father and the retired soldiers to not interfere."

Claude believed what Welikro's sister said to be rather sensible, but it had nothing to do with him. Since he couldn't find anything out about his father there, he had no choice but to go back and to think of another way, so he took his leave.

Welikro's sister called out to him, "Lil' Claude, I know why you came, but you came to the wrong person. My father can't help you. You're the key to solving your conundrum. Just think of what your position is and you'll know who you can seek out for help."

My position? What position do I hold? Claude scratched his head in confusion and only recalled that he was the supervisor of Normanley Wood after he saw Jemmy. Normanley Wood was Baroness Maria's personal property and he should write her a letter for help. At the very least, he would find out the real reason his father and the others were detained with the pretense of threatening national security.

Chapter 129 - Arbeit the Fraud

Benz apologised at the post office's entrance.

"Lil' Claude, it's going to be new year's in five days. The post office will be closed from tomorrow. You can leave your letter here but it'll only be delivered after the 15th next year. That's the earliest we'll be sending mail out again."

Looking at the letter he spent the better part of the night writing, Claude smiled resignedly. The timing was too bad. It happened to be near the new year and the post office was going to close all the way till the 15th. That would be far too late.

"Uncle Benz, my letter is incredibly urgent and it's for Baroness Maria. Can you help me ask around to see whether there'll be anyone who's willing to make that trip for me? I'm paying a crown for the delivery of this letter." Claude could only count on paying a huge reward.

To a postman who earned only one thale and five riyas each month, that single trip to the royal capital would earn them more than three months of salary. There should be someone who would be willing to give up on their break to make that trip.

Benz nodded. "I'll ask around. Claude, I feel very sorry for what happened to your father, but I believe it'll be fine. He's a good man."

Soon, Benz returned with a middle-aged man that had a limp in his left leg. "Claude my boy, this is Borik. He's willing to make this trip."

Borik was a newbie postman who had joined the post office last year because of his retirement from the military following his leg injury. He came from the prefecture of Simlock and was assigned to Whitestag to serve as a postman. Since his family hadn't moved with him to town, he was willing to make the trip for some extra cash.

Benz chose Borik after considering the fact that the various regions in the kingdom would have increased security during the festivities. Borik was a dignitarian and held the official position of postman, so he would face far less trouble on the way to the royal capital. Whether it came to crossing customs points or lodging temporarily somewhere, the keepers in those areas wouldn't be too strict on him.

Claude handed the letter to Borik and paid a thale to him to use for the toll. If he rushed his way there, it would take around eight days for him to make a trip to and back from the royal capital. But as it was currently winter, the snow-covered roads would be harder to traverse. Should there be a snowstorm midway, the journey would be delayed by a few days. So, Claude wrote another slip to prove Borik's identity. That way, he would be able to stay at the royal capital for a few days to wait for Maria to pen a reply and bring it back.

After sending the letter, all Claude could do was to patiently wait. He spent half his time at the wood and the other half at home. His mother seemed to be recovering and could take care of the chores once more. However, she would think about her husband from time to time and sit blankly as tears flowed out her face.

Welikro's father, Kubrik, brought a group of retired veterans together in preparation to accept the donation and expropriation proposals at the town hall for the formation of the garrison clan, only to be refused by Mayor Robert.

The mayor said that he had already sent the results of their meeting along with the three proposals to the council in the prefectural capital for them to make a decision on the matter. So, there was no longer anything to be discussed. No matter what the council decided, all the town would have to do was to follow up on the decision.

The angry Kubrik once more broke into an argument with Robert. He cursed the mayor in the most horrid manner possible before everyone else and forced the defenseless man to duck back pitifully into his office and shut his door tightly, pretending to not hear the insults that were thrown his way.

But even though Kubrik won the argument, that didn't change the matter with the garrison clan in the slightest. Robert had chosen to leave the matter in the council's hands after being unable to gain the retired veterans' cooperation.

That way, even though he lost the initiative to direct the formation of the garrison clan, he could rely on the council to realize his goals, given that the council wasn't privy about the situation at Whitestag. He could also put the burden and blame on the council. In that sense, the retired veterans had lost that fight.

Martial law continued to be upheld in the town. Some people with great access to information said that it would continue until Whitestag finished forming their garrison clan. Regardless, the townsfolks' lives weren't affected by the situation. Apart from some checks that had to be done upon entry or exit of town, the shops and business in town operated as usual and had even more business given the presence of the soldiers there. Even the old street managed to benefit from the increased customer base.

In fact, quite a number of people wanted the martial law to continue indefinitely because that littered their streets with patrolling soldiers and improved the town's security. Even the Blacksnake gang members stopped parading around arrogantly like they owned the place and started to behave themselves.

Claude didn't bother with the things that seemed so inconsequential to him. He was only busy taking care of his mother and thinking of a way to find out more about his father, who was kept within the military encampment. With his unrelenting efforts, he managed to get Pjard to secure him a lead. A clansman of the keepers was invited over.

The man told Claude that Morssen and the other eight arrested people were treated fairly within the camp. They weren't tortured nor interrogated. During the two days they were held there, they were only questioned by some military officers of the navy that came from the royal capital. After that, they were kept in their cells to await their punishment.

The clansman said he didn't really know why they were charged with threatening national security. The orders he received at the prefectural capital was to enact martial law in Whitestag to protect it from a pirate attack and aid the town to form its own garrison. Apart from that, he followed the orders to arrest the nine alleged criminals including Morssen.

That invitation cost Claude six thales. He even had to gift the clansman a carton of blueberry wine worth one crown. He had spent almost all his money for that purpose. Claude had wanted the man to bring his father some things, but the man politely refused. He said that while revealing those things to Claude was only a minor offense, bringing something directly to a prisoner was outright crime. He didn't want to be involved in all that.

Claude could only count on the call for help he sent Maria's way. He prayed that Borik would reach the royal capital as soon as possible so that Maria would have the time to wrap her mind around the matter and hopefully aid his father.

Claude and his family spent the following days anxiously.

During new year's eve, Arbeit went home, something the whole family didn't expect.

Madam Ferd was filled with hope as she asked him what the results of asking about Morssen were. He said with a grave look that it was bad and that Morssen and the others were considered an insurgent group and could be sentenced to death by shooting for treason.

She almost passed out from hearing the news. That was the worst she had ever heard so far.

Claude almost spat the red tea in his mouth out. He was well aware that Arbeit wasn't asking around about his father and definitely took all the money, used it all up, before going home. He didn't think that the fool would actually spin such lies to frighten their mother even more with the obvious intent on squeezing more money from her.

Claude warmed his wrists up and felt his fist begin to itch. He would definitely work his fists well tonight.

"Claude, what do you think we should do?" asked Madam Ferd. She started to count on Claude in recent times.

However, before Claude could speak, Arbeit spat, "Mother, why are you consulting him about this? The only one who can make decisions for the family now is me. I went to the prefectural capital a few days ago and asked some of my friends for news. To save money, I could only stay at the cheap inns there.

"Now that I have a grasp of the situation, I can say that Father isn't the main perpetrator of the treasonous act. He was only forced to involve himself and can only be considered an accomplice at most. The warden whom I got the news from told me that we have to hurry if we want to save Father. If we can provide some... benefactions... to the right people, his charges might be lighter and he probably wouldn't be shot."

Claude felt so light-headed that he thought he might be drunk. What's that fool thinking? Father's kept in the military encampment in Whitestag, yet he said he went all the way to the prefectural capital to ask about this matter? Does he think it'll fly? He doesn't even know where Father is kept! What a shitty and uninspired lie!

"Then... then how much money do we need to save your father?" She began to panic.

Arbeit furrowed his brows and pretended to count with his fingers. "We need at least 15 crowns. That way, I can go to the prefectural capital to bribe the right person to lighten Father's crimes."

"But... but we don't have nearly that much money at home," Madam Ferd said in despair, "You took all my money the last time and Claude has been paying for our expenses lately. Your father's bank account has been frozen and he wouldn't be able to withdraw any, now that he's arrested..."

"Don't you still have some jewelry? Mother, let me exchange them for money first. If they aren't enough, we'll think of other ways. It's crucial that we lighten Father's charges. Time is of essence and I'm worried that we won't be able to make it if we take too long. Wait, what are you doing? Ah, Mother! Save me!"

It's almost like you're asking to be beaten to death! The moment the fool brought up his mother's jewelries, Claude was no longer able to control his rage. He stepped forward and gave Arbeit a huge slap, sending him tumbling to the ground. Just as he was about to pull him up for a good beating, he didn't think that the fool would hastily duck under the table and crawl to the feet of his mother, hugging them as he begged for his life."

"Cl-claude! What are you doing?!" Madam Ferd, who was entrenched in Arbeit's lies, stepped in front to protect him when she saw Claude act up with shock.

"I'm not doing much, Mother. I'm just going to give him a beating. I still haven't settled the time he slapped Lil' Blowk, yet now he's back to lie to us and wants to cheat you of your jewelry! I can't take this anymore! I must teach him a lesson!"

"I'm not lying!" Arbeit protested stubbornly behind his mother.

"Hah, you're not lying? Then tell me, where is Father kept now?" asked Claude with a smirk.

"In... in the jail at the royal capital..." Arbeit tried his best guess, since felons from Whitestag were brought to the royal capital and locked up there after all. He believed Morssen would receive the same treatment.

"Congratulations! You answered wrong!" Claude gave Arbeit a harsh kick in his ribs, causing him to curl up in pain like a river prawn.

Madam Ferd finally snapped out of it. "Wait, Claude, didn't you tell me yesterday that your father was kept at the military encampment in town?"

"That's right." Claude pointed his finger at the fellow on the ground. "That's why he's been lying this whole time. He even claimed that Father and the rest were charged with treason. You can see how much hate he feels for Father, for him to wish so dearly for his early death."

As he said so, Claude gave Arbeit another two kicks, causing him to roll on the ground in pain.

"Stop hitting him, Claude... He's your elder brother..." She was still unable to stomach the sight of Claude beating his brother up, despite how excited the little girl and the puffball were as they watched from the sides.

"F*ck off! If you come here to mess with Mother and our siblings again, I will make sure to beat you up every time I see you! Mark my words, for I fully intend to keep them!" Claude yelled.

Chapter 130 - Arbeit's Whereabouts

"Hey, Claude, are you going home?"

The keepers already recognised Claude from his frequent running across town in the past few days, but it was also partly due to how sociable he was. During his patrol in the wood in the morning, he discovered some frozen hares and turkeys that were caught by the snares and gifted some of them to the keepers. While they were tasked to enforce martial law and enjoyed rather decent meals, free food from the wilds was still very welcome.

The one who greeted him was a second lieutenant called Abram. His tent[1] was in charge of maintaining order in the southwestern side of town. When he saw Claude driving his carriage out of the wood and down the hill, he would wave to greet him for a talk.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant." Claude drove the carriage over to him and parked it. He removed his scarf and said, "It's the last day before the new year tomorrow. What are you all so busy with?"

Abram shrugged with frustration. "We have no choice. Orders from above necessitates that we keep alert even as new year is upon us. We have to defend against the pirates that are heading the town's way, so we're busy fortifying the walls of the town and the streets. But just look. We're unable to even dig properly now that the ground is all frozen up. We have to clear the snow away first and warm the ground with fire before we can make trenches. I doubt we'd be able to finish by today."

Claude received a cup of hot red tea from the second lieutenant and smiled. "Tell me. I knew you had something in mind when you called me to stop. Is there anything I can help with? I'll do my best as long as it's within my capabilities."

Abram shot him a thumbs-up. "Aren't you the supervisor of the wood? I want to ask you whether you have some timber there we can borrow. It'd be much faster for us to make wooden barricades than it is for us to dig trenches."

Claude shook his head regrettably. "If you've been asking around, you'll know that the no tree has been felled in Normanley Wood for the past two decades or so. No timber is produced there either. Even though we have some aged wood, it's far from enough to be used to make barricades for the streets and the walls. And without the baroness' permission, it won't bide well for us to fell trees there. I'm afraid I can't help you with that."

"Sigh, looks like we won't be able to avoid the fate of digging trenches," Abram said with disappointment, "We were thinking of felling some trees nearby the town, but the town hall forbade us from doing so and said that the trees were public property and that we had to pay the town for every tree felled. We didn't include that in our budget. The soldiers are already frustrated enough that they have to work through the new year's, and it'd be going overboard to ask them to pay up for the materials we need."

Claude looked at the five soldiers nearby. They were using iron shovels to dig the warmed-up ground and packing the dirt into sacks, which they stacked up into walls about as tall as half a person. But so far, they only had ten or so of those sacks. It was no wonder Abram was so troubled about not being able to borrow wood from Normanley Wood.

"Are the barricades you build going to be permanent ones?" asked Claude.

Abram shook his head. "How would that even be possible? No matter how stupid the higher-ups are, they wouldn't give such an order. We'd have to factor in the blueprints for permanent fortifications and hire professionals for the construction. It's not something stacking sacks of dirt together can achieve. Since we're going to retreat anyway after your town forms a garrison clan, we'll be leaving the fortifications to them. Whether it turns out good or bad won't matter to us."

Claude pondered for a moment before he said, "Since that's the case, there won't be a need for your comrades to dig up trenches. It's the winter season and snow will fall quite often. You can simply stack the snow up into walls. Press the snow into bricks and stack them up before sprinkling them with water. They'd be harder than metal once it freezes up. Not only is this much faster, it provides much better defence. If there really is a shootout, the bullets won't be able to shoot through these frozen bricks."

He finished his tea in one go and returned it to Abram. With a smile, he said, "As for the duration these ice walls will last, I think they'll only start to melt during the 2nd month. By then, the garrison should've been formed already and you'll be moved back to the prefectural capital. The defences here will no longer be your concern."

Abram wore an expression of awe and joy. He gave Claude a deep hug. "Thank you, Claude! You're a true friend! You're far too smart. I can't imagine how you came up with something like that so quickly. I'll get the soldiers to stop digging and do as you say!"

Claude continued to drive the carriage towards home. He was in a good mood after being showered with praises by Abram. However, he thought that the quality of military officers the kingdom employed left something to be desired, given that they weren't able to come up with such an elementary idea. Even though they were firearms-wielding troops, they were trained to become blockheads that only obeyed orders and didn't know how to think outside the box.

But his mood took a complete turn when he reached home. Angelina cried as she told Claude of their troubles. Arbeit had barged into the home this morning and gave the snowhound a harsh beating, sending it flying to a corner on the ground and rushed up to the second floor. He then broke into his parents' bedroom and ransacked it, leaving with his mother's jewellery case.

Though Madam Ferd tried to stop him, she was pushed aside and couldn't get up from the fall. Arbeit then vanished with the jewellery.

Fuming with rage, he really wanted to head to town immediately to find that pitiful excuse of a human, but he had to see to his family first. The snowhound's hind legs were broken and Bloweyk hugged it as he bawled. His mother was bedridden and couldn't get up due to the pain in her waist. Angelina, on the other hand, was fine, but she was at a loss for what to do. Fortunately, Claude returned, and she finally had someone to rely on and stopped panicking.

After getting her to make breakfast for the family, Claude drove to the apothecary and invited the sinister-looking herbalist to his home.

The snowhound was fine. After having its legs fastened to a stick, Claude fed it some perfect-quality first-grade healing potion and applied some topically as well. It recovered within three days and could run and jump around as usual. The truly troubled one was his mother, whom the herbalist said had only sustained some light physical injury such as a sprained waist. She would recover with some ointment in a day or two. What was truly concerning was the worries that weighed heavily on her mind. She was in a constant state of anxiety and her body was affected by her shock. She would recover a good amount of rest before recovering and had to regularly consume supplements.

After the old herbalist left, Claude went to the kitchen and made three steamed eggs, one each for his mother and two siblings. After feeding the snowhound, he tossed it a bone to nibble on to make up for some calcium so that its legs wouldn't break as easily the next time someone hit it with a stick, and that someone was the physically weak Arbeit. It was embarrassing to even think about.

He excused himself by saying he was going out to buy some things and drove his carriage to town to locate Arbeit. After asking the soldiers on duty, he got confirmation that Arbeit hadn't left town yet. So, he went to the jewellers' and some other shops to ask whether Arbeit pawned any of the jewellery there.

There were three jewellers' in Whitestag, but more than ten common shops in town. He spent more than two hours to do a full run through all of them, but none were said to have been visited by Arbeit.

Where's could that arse be now? Claude wondered. Arbeit actually broke into the house and robbed his own mother of her jewellery. It was apparent that he desperately lacked money. Otherwise, he wouldn't resort to such extreme measures. He wouldn't have to worry about food or drink at Sir Fux's, since he was his personal secretary.

That's right, after Father was arrested, that arse didn't reveal anything about his situation. Whether he's still working for Sir Fux is still unknown. Claude drove to Sir Fux's manor in the southwest of town and asked around. The butler that worked there said that Arbeit had applied for an extended leave, with the reason that he was busy dealing with matters following his father's arrest. Given that he was supposedly in charge of the Ferd household in his father's absence, Sir Fux agreed to his request for a leave.

Ptoooey! Claude spat on the ground harshly after he returned to his carriage. Isn't he putting up quite the serious persona in public? Even his excuse sounds so grand and noble! Has he fulfilled any responsibility as the head of the household? Where the heck did he go to ‘settle matters' after Father's arrest?!

Maybe I should approach this from another angle... Where would that arse go after he got the money? The scene of Arbeit bargaining with a woman in the old street during the night he went shopping for magic items appeared in his mind.

Hmm, he'd most definitely go to the old street after he has money. But the first time, he already cheated mom of around 16 thales. That's around three crowns in total! That should be enough for him to frolic around for a month or two. Even if he goes all out every day, it'd last him at least two weeks. The prices there are quite cheap after all, and even the most beautiful harlots cost only one riyas a go...

But he ran out of money after only three to four days and came back to try to cheat mom of her jewellery, only for his ploy to be thwarted and taught a lesson by me. Yet, he dared to come back to rob us in the morning when I wasn't there... What in the world gave him those guts? What could possibly force him to take such desperate measures?

The only possibility was if he got caught up in gambling or drugs. Arbeit was indulgent in sensual pleasures, no doubt, but 16 thales should've been able to last him quite a while at the old street. It wasn't possible for him to spend all that money within a week. When Claude was beating him up yesterday night, Arbeit's body didn't seem particular feeble or expended, so he probably wasn't using his money for that.

Drugs was even more implausible. The technology and culture in this world hadn't led to the discovery of recreational substances yet. There wasn't the slightest trace of ecstasy and similar hallucinogenic drugs in this world, so it wasn't possible to procure any of them, so it could be eliminated as a factor.

All that remained was gambling. Only that could cause Arbeit to lose all the money he had in that time and force him to go back home to try to cheat his mother for more. But Claude didn't know where his brother was gambling, whether it be an underground gambling den or a group of shitty friends. If it was the latter, there was no way Claude would be able to locate him. Who knew which corner he would hide in during the night?

But after some thought, Claude believed that it was highly possible for Arbeit to gamble in underground dens. After all, he didn't pawn the jewellery he stole from his mother at the hops. If he was gambling with his friends, he wouldn't be able to use those jewelry. Instead, the underground gambling dens usually provided a service to pawn items away for money. It was most probable for Arbeit to try to use the jewellery he stole to make a comeback through gambling.

Then again, he could simply be involved in a high-interest loan. That was probably what instilled the courage in him to break into his own house. Claude coldly analysed each possibility in his mind.

Regardless, the current issue was that Claude didn't know whether there was an underground gambling den in Whitestag. He hadn't heard of there being any. In Aueras, setting up private gambling sessions was a huge crime that was punished with hanging. It was only normal for Claude to not know of any. He had to find and insider for more information.

[1] Military unit of Freian militaries. A tent of troops number 10-12 men, just enough to fill up a tent, hence the name.

Chapter 131 - Search

Today was the last day of Year 575 of the Sacred Light Era. After today day, Claude would be eighteen by laws, even though his birthday was on the 18th of the 3rd month.

Claude would be a peasant as of the next day. He would have to pay his own head tax and other duties to the kingdom. He would no longer enjoy the benefits of his dignitarian father. Then again, his father was locked up in the military encampment. Even if he were as young as Bloweyk, he might still lose his benefits as they might depending on what happened with their father.

He supposed Freian families did new year much like old earth's Chinese did lunar new year. Everyone gathered together for dinner and to make merry. The dinner was there, but this year there was no merrymaking. The dining table usually sat 6 people on new year's, but this time it sat just four. Claude's mother was bedridden, not that she had the appetite to eat even if she were not ill, his father was a prisoner, and Arbeit dared not come home. In fact, the table would have sat just three if not for the snowhound.

Angelina had taken care of the chores that afternoon without prompt, cleaning even the stairs and floorboards. For her part, she was turning fourteen. Her final year in elementary school had also come to a close, and she was about to start middle school. Her mind was occupied now, however, with worry over whether she really would get to go to middle school, considering what was going on with her father. She attended school only because her father's status meant they didn't have to pay for the basic education. If he was put to death or even just stripped of his status, she would not go to middle school since the family wouldn't be able to afford it.

Claude had sworn up and down the east coast that he would pay for her school if it came down to it, but she didn't have it in her heart to accept that from him.

Bloweyk was turning eight, and the piggy had started taming his appetite as his sensibilities finally began to grow in. He'd caught up in maturity by at least 3 years following the business with his oldest brother. He now quietly and obediently looked after his pet and checked on his mother. He'd also stopped throwing tantrums if he didn't get exactly what he wanted; in fact, he'd stopped being such a pest with Claude altogether. Claude decided to reward him for his growth and had brought him his self-made tangram puzzle.

Claude made a light feast for the family, but now the three ate alone, in silence. Their mother was pecking at her food alone in her room. Claude had sworn to himself to pulp Arbeit until he stopped breathing, resurrect him, and do it a couple dozen more times before he got the chance to get away.

The main streets were quite busy, and every house was decorated.

Claude went to the storeroom and took out some old lanterns from the previous year, lit two candles and put them inside before hanging the lanterns out.

The family were ill-equipped to celebrate the new year's thanks to their father's arrest. They also didn't have the snacks they usually gave guests, though Claude doubted any would show up this year.

Last year around the same time, Claude was brought to the war god's shrine to await the ringing of the new year's bell. He later went to the moon goddess's shrine with Eriksson. His mother took Bloweyk and Angelina to the earth goddess's shrine. This year, the three shrines might be the same as they used to be, but Claude had lost all interest in participating in the festivities. He wasn't going to the three shrines to make merry.

Claude took his siblings to the study. His sister liked reading. She looked for something to dig into with her mind. Claude read stories to his little brother. Most of the children's books his father had bought were already torn to shreds, unfortunately; the picky little destroyer insisted Claude tell him new stories. He preferred knights and dragons.

Having no other choice, Claude could only pick a popular chivalric romance from the shelf, adding on his unobtrusive twist.

Time flowed quickly and new year's bell rang from the god of war's shrine. His sister put down her book and yawned.

"Happy new year, Brother," she announced.

"Happy new year, Anna," Claude said, his eyes still on his little brother, curled up in his lap, "Go sleep. I'm sure you're barely holding on. Blowk's already asleep and even the bell isn't waking him."

"Okay. I heard everyone say making a wish when the new year's bell is ringing will make it come true. I'm glad I managed to stay awake."

"Oh? What did you wish for?"

"Can't say. You can't tell anyone until it comes true, else it never will. Good night!"

Angelina headed to the bathroom to wash up while Claude took his little brother to the two's room. He stopped by his mother's room on the way back. She was still up, but lying as dead quiet as though she were asleep. He could see the tear streaks on her face.

"Mom. Want something to eat?"

Her head shook slowly.

"I can't. It's new year. Time flies, doesn't it. It feels like just yesterday I was still walking around with you in my stomach. Now you're an adult. It's not been long enough. It really hasn't..."

Claude got some warm water from the bathroom and handed a hot soaked towel to his mother from the bucket.

"Wipe your face, mom. Happy new year and stay healthy. Don't worry about Father. We'll be fine. I'm still here. I'll take care of Blowk and Anna. You just rest and recover."

Madam Ferd squeezed a laborious smile.

"Thanks, Claude. Happy new year. I wish you have a bright future. I guess we can only count on you now."

"Don't worry, mom. We're family. Rest. I'm going downstairs. Just pull the rope bell if you need anything."

Claude refilled Jemmy's food and calmed the horse, which was circling around nervously from the bell.

He returned to the east floor, Jemmy finally calmed, and put out his mother's lamp, then settled on the couch in his father's study. His pushed his awareness out into the building and sensed his sibling asleep a couple doors down. His mother had just fallen into her sleep as well.

He listened to his mother's uneasy breathing for half an hour until it calmed as she slipped into deep sleep, then changed into his spare pair of clothes.

The entire town would be out in the streets, near the shrines, for the whole night, so the keepers had pulled back from town and focused on the perimeter.

Snow fell incessantly, the ground already white.

Claude tightened his coat and pulled his cap down as far as it would go, closed the door, and marched off into the night.

He quickly came across a crowd around one of the smaller shrines, and faded into it. A couple drunken howls broke through the boisterous conversation every couple of minutes, but the crowd tolerated the merrymakers.

The men let loose properly on new year's, for this one night might be the only they could properly let go of the stodgy formalism so common to conservative rural towns like Whitestag. Most were heading for old street. There the harlots continued their ancient profession even on this night, or perhaps especially on this night, of celebration. It didn't sound like the prices Claude had heard before, either.

The old street, for all its shady lighting and quite literally shitty environment, was quite merry, which was quite out of the ordinary. The street was usually busy, even lively, but rarely merry. Claude even saw a couple keeper blues, clearly not here on official business.

Claude ignored all the invitation and temptations and just continued on his way. He stopped, finally, at one particular corner of the neighbourhood. This, was the information kiosk, as it was known. This was where one got any information you wanted about anything dodgy happening in the region. It was quite a popular spot for harlots and young street urchins, though, unlike everyone else, they left with fuller pockets than they arrived.

Speaking of pickpockets. Old Street was oddly devoid of them that evening. It was usually teeming with them much like the sewers were with rats, but he had not come across one yet. Unlike every other night, however, he actually wanted to run into one that night. Pickpocket or no, he decided, he could still get his information, so he, for the first time in his life, accosted a harlot.

He'd initially thought about looking for a Blacksnake, but they were all involved with women, and usually in groups of three or more, so that was out of the question.

His chosen harlot could tell him little of note, however. It seemed his taste in harlots had yet to be refined, so he turned back to the Blacksnakes. He gargled some wine, spilled a couple glugs on his clothes, then stared at the crowds intently for several minutes.

It didn't take long for a sly figure to sidle up to him, two burly men not far behind.

"What are you doing here?" the figure asked.

"What does it look like? Waiting for someone..." Claude answered as hoarsely as his cold throat could, "Those fools said they had a fun place for me, but they're up there--" He pointed in the general, drunk direction of the building behind him. "--with several whores. Bastards better not keep me waiting too long..."

"Why not enjoy a lady's company while you wait?" the man asked.

"Not interested. Women aren't interesting. Cards, on the other hand... Oh f*ck it. I'm going home!"

"A moment, friend. I know a good place, if you're interested."

"A good place?" Claude asked, his gaze doubtful, "No, you don't know me, so you don't know what I like. I shouldn't trouble you, anyway. I guess I'll just go have a drink or two back at the inn."

"Few people dislike it," the man promised, "I'm sure you won't be one of them. Come, it's just around the corner. It's pretty exclusive, not just anyone can go there, but we can get you in."

"Alright. I won't stay if I'm not happy though. And the heavens have mercy on you if you try to stop me..."

The man nodded happily and turned to lead the way.

"Don't worry, I'm a Blacksnake, and we run this part of town. No one will get in your way if you choose to leave, or make trouble for you if you choose to stay. Come, let me take you there now."

Chapter 132 - Den

It turned out the place really wasn't far. They just hopped around a nearby corner and then vanished into an alleyway. Just a couple dozen metres further the man pointed at a run-down shed.

"There," the man said curtly.

"You call this a den? It's barely a hut!"

The man smiled.

"Don't judge it from the outside. The inside is completely different. You'll get everything you can want there, from women to fine wine. It's designed by an honoured guest from the capital. I dare say you won't find a finer den in the three southwestern prefectures."

"Oh, that so? Can't be. I passed through town a year ago. I didn't heard about a den like this."

"Hehe, you came at just the right time. We just opened or business. I'm not surprised you've not heard of us yet. We don't let just anyone inside either. By the way, what is your profession?"

"I'm a shiphand."

Eriksson had said sailors don't really reveal their vocations completely. Only rookie sailors told people they're just met everything about what they did.

"You aren't one of the locals?"

"No, I'm from Simlock. I'm here thanks to my uncle. He went and died and stranded me here. I'm usually on land at most half the year, but I've decided to settle here now." Claude smiled.

The man didn't suspect him and showed him to the shed.

"I see you're well-paid, for you to be considering settling down. What kind of house are you seeking? I might be able to help."

"It's not bad work. We risk our lives to make a living. Nobody knows which day will be our last, so we live all out and enjoy every moment we have. I'm looking for a stand-alone with a yard and well. I don't want to bother with getting water."

Just as he was going deeper into his story, a figure appeared. Claude stopped in his tracks and readied himself.

"Don't be nervous. He's one of us."

The man next to him smiled. He stepped forward and told the newcomer a couple things, then the man faded away.

"Just a lookout. The man explained. He's on watch for the keepers and the constables. We'll make sure you make a clean getaway."

Claude nodded. The two continued to the run-down building and stepped inside. He followed the two men into the run-down looking hut.

The entrance looked just as old and worn as the rest of the place. Five huge men stood outside, stomping on the ground nonstop in the snowy weather. They complained non-stop about the weather and their bad luck for being on guard tonight.

Claude's guide walked up to them and said a few words, before the watchers disappeared. Someone emerged from the tent, walked over to Claude, and checked him out condescendingly. His hand suddenly darted forward and yanked at Claude's shawl covering his face.

Claude darted back two steps and barked.

"What're you trying?"

"Nothing, I was just trying to see if I know you," the man said indifferently, though slight surprise was evident in his eyes.

"I've never seen you before," Claude spat impatiently.

"Alright. Come in. I was just testing."

The burly man put his pipe in his mouth mouth and started puffing.

Claude followed the two inside. Fortunately, the other men standing guard didn't move. They watched as Claude and the other two entered with their hands crossed.

Within the hut was an empty room with two lit torches on the walls that cast the room in a yellowish glow.

Just as Claude was going to say something, the thin gang member went to one of the torches and did something he couldn't see. Then, a door-shaped hole appeared on the wall. There was a secret entrance.

When Claude went through the entrance, he found that there was a stairway heading downstairs. Sounds of chattering could be heard from below.

Claude continued downwards silently. After going down for around ten meters, he saw a wide corridor in front of him that was connected to a metal gate. Outside the gate on each wall was an oil lamp. By then, the sounds coming from beyond the corridor sounded far clearer. Angered ramblings, sensual laughter and other noises blended into a chaotic symphony. It was as if there was a merry market beyond that door.

Four huge men in short-sleeved black clothing could be seen outside the gate. They glared at the three that were approaching.

The thin man went forward and told them something before waving for Claude to come closer. "Sorry, friend. I'm afraid this is as far as I can bring you. I'm not qualified to enter that place."

Claude nodded. "Thank you. This place isn't bad. The security's tight and it seems rather safe. I can't wait to jump in now that I hear the voices coming from inside. How beautiful it all sounds! Thanks, friend. Take this and consider it my token of gratitude."

Claude handed the bottle half-filled with gran wine to the gang member and took out a thale from his pocket before flicking into the air and catching it. He then handed it to the thin man. "Take this and consider it a gift. You weren't lying that this place is a great gambling den. Looks like I'll be coming here often in the future."

Ignoring the two, Claude paced to the gate. The four men saw Claude's generosity and decided he had enough money to spend there, so they let him in without a fuss.

When Claude stepped beyond the entrance, the innermost man reminded, "Dear guest, it can get a little warm inside, so you may remove your outerwear and shawl and place it on the rack here. We have people guarding the place and we'll make sure not to lose your clothes."

Claude nodded, but he didn't undress. "I want to look around first, would that be alright?"

"Yes, do as you please."

Soon, Claude understood what the man meant by warm. At the end of the corridor was a large hall where hundreds of people engaged in heated gambling. The most exciting table was the one at the center of the hall. So many people surrounded that table that it was difficult to get around. They chanted, "Big! Big! Big..."

It didn't take long before the results of the game was revealed. The victors cheered with frenzy and hurried the house to pay out their winnings while the losers cursed their bad luck with their heads lowered.

The heated atmosphere was one thing; Claude also found that the temperature of the hall was considerably warmer than the outside. He had an urge to remove his outer clothing. He looked closer and saw the copper pipes that surrounded the ten or so pillars inside the hall. The heat was probably coming from those.

It was truly an ingenious design. Claude understood with a glance that it was a copper pipe heating system which relied on the hot water flowing through the pipes to warm the hall up. It would be unsafe for them to use braziers for heat because it would cause fires easily and it would complicate the ventilation of an underground room like that. Nobody would come down to gamble with so much smoke around.

The copper pipes on the other hand wouldn't have those shortcomings. Cold water could be piped through them to cool down the hall during summer too. However, Claude wasn't intent on looking too deeply into the pipes. He wanted to look around to see whether he could spot Arbeit.

Before he reached the centre of the hall, Claude seemed to be able to hear his voice. "Eleven points! Haha, you only got ten! I won!"

The game they were playing had similar rules to blackjack, but the largest allowed value was 12 instead of 21. The players drew a minimum of two cards and a maximum of three and made their bets according to the sum of points of their wooden cards.

I hear him. He must be near.

The problem was, Claude couldn't see the fool amidst the crowd. He couldn't quite tell where the sound had come from. He tried to find the source, but he was drawing too much attention.

A young maidservant came to him. She was quite attractive, with a hint of mischief and seduction.

"Is this your first time here?" The maidservant asked, pressing against the boy. Claude stepped back and made some distance between the two of them, before he nodded.

"Sir, you aren't thinking of shaking me off, right?" she asked when he ignored her, "If you don't like me, I can find you a more beautiful girl. She's much prettier than me."

Claude shook his head.

"Apologies. It's not that I'm trying to shake you. I'm just not too used to being in close physical contact."

The girl giggled.

"You're joking, right? Don't you get so close to women when you bed them?"

"That's a whole other story, miss," Claude said, frowning, "I know nothing about you."

"You will once you come more often. Naturally, if you're generous, we sisters will quickly acquaint ourselves with you and then you can approach us closer and more freely..."

Claude didn't say anything else.

The maidservant stopped smiling. "Sir, do you need anything? I saw you standing here for quite a while without joining in."

She pointed at the group of gamblers huddled up at the center of the hall.

He understood that he had caught the attention of those running the den. "It's my first time here, so I don't quite know how things work yet."

"Oh, is that so?" The smile returned to her face. "Well, it's simple. Before you play, you must exchange something for gambling chips. The smallest chips we offer here are valued at one sunar. There are chips for one riyas and one thale too, and the highest ones are worth one crown. These four are the only gambling chips here. After you get some, you can freely join any game, whether it be dice or cards. The den is the house of the games and whether you win depends on your luck.

"If you want to gamble with a friend, we can provide a private room and premium service, but we'll charge a ten percent for service. Food and drink are all free here. If you want better food options, you can pay with the chips as well.

"Also, there's a bath through the corridor ahead. You may take a bath with hot water and rest in a bedroom. If you're willing to spend a thale, you can spend a night with any one of us sisters. Do you want to give it a try? I can make sure that you'll be drowned in pleasure."

"Is that so... Thank you for the introduction," Claude said with a nod, "I want to look around a bit more. Would that be alright?"

"Of course," the maidservant replied in a sensual tone, "But Sir, aren't you feeling a little hot? Let me remove your outerwear for you, alright?"

Chapter 133 - Taking Action

Claude suddenly realized that he had thought everything too simple. He was faced with a dilemma in his current situation. The first was his getup: his face was covered like when he went to Hurian's to buy some things. He didn't want to expose his identity, so he could mask himself and appear like a mysterious magus and didn't have to care about much. He could even lash out without consequence.

He had planned to locate Arbeit during the night and thought his older brother would simply be gambling in a run-down den. He had planned to put himself out as a robber and ruin the den so he could use the confusion to teach his brother a harsh lesson. Everyone would think he’d just gotten caught up in something completely unrelated to him.

He didn't think Blacksnake had such a luxurious setup in the slums. He had stumbled inside and encountered quite a lot of trouble before he could locate his estranged sibling. No wonder the maidservant asked him to remove his outerwear yet again. They weren't on Old Street after all, nobody wore their outer wear inside. Some were so invested in their games they were drenched and on the brink of stripping. Even the maids were dressed in summer skirts. Though Claude didn’t think the fact that the skirts fluttered about and revealed tantalising glances at what hid beneath had no role to play in the choice of dress.

Thanks to the copper-pipe heating system, the inside was a few degrees above the outside world. And the many people inside only added to the heat. Claude stood out horribly in his current getup. A couple men in vests in one corner were watching his every move. He supposed he should consider it very restrained for them to only have a maid ask him to remove his disguise rather than just kicking him out.

He had two options at the moment: either refuse and face up to the two bouncers -- they would not leave him alone if he insisted on maintaining his disguise -- or take off his disguise and reveal who he was. He didn’t doubt for one moment at least one person in the hall knew him enough to recognise him even in this dim light. He was not going to brawl his way out of this with magic. There was no way he could hide his spells with so many eyes watching him, and he was not going to get everyone before someone slipped out and let the world know he knew magic. Not to mention that he was not going to get Arbeit in a den this large, the bouncers were not going to let him.

Arbeit was a customer, so they would protect him -- granted he kept paying his debts, of course. And Claude had no way to make himself a customer. His last thale had bought his guide’s gratitude.

If his father were still free and untarnished, the gang wouldn’t have dared do much to him, but everyone knew that, barring an intervention by someone of substantial power and influence, his father was done for. There was no reason for them to show Claude anymore respect they would any greenhorn brat off the street. He might get it worse, actually, since his father had been no friend of the gang when he was still the chief secretary.

More than anything that might happen to him, however, he was more worried he’d get his family involved. He was not about to let them suffer for his impulsiveness.

He was still deciding what to do, when the maid made the decision for him. She pulled on his shawl, and he instinctively pushed her back. His shove was stronger than she’d expected, and she lost her footing and headed for the floor. She cried as she fell, and held Claude’s shawl to balance herself. It went down with her.

Luckily Claude was wearing a black mask that covered the lower half of his face, so his identity was still protected. It was enough for the bouncers to decide he was up to no good, however, and they came at him. Six charged in total. The apparent leader was a bald man a head taller than Claude. His bare muscles bulged with every step. He gave his nose a boxer stroke and glanced at the men beside him, who charged ahead of him.

"Find out what’s his purpose," he said carefully, his eyes glued to Claude.

None of them thought much of Claude, despite his dress. Faced with six burly men, Claude's 1.8 metres wasn’t that impressive either.

If only Claude was less inclined to overthink everything. He supposed it was unavoidable, however, even his old boss had frequently criticised his inaction. There wasn't always a perfect solution, and no matter how well-prepared he was, there were too many variables to keep his plans certain. He just had to charge his way through his obstacles to his goal now. The ends didn’t matter, as long as one gave one’s utmost.

He just couldn't be as carefree as his boss, but the moment he made his choice, he never looked back, and he had made his now. Damn everything else, but he was not going to be beaten tonight.

He unleashed six Magic Missiles.

Groans suddenly filled the den. The six projectiles burrowed through his six attackers and left them rolling on the ground in pain. Blood seeped through the floorboards and into the ground beneath.

"Ahh... this... Murder..."

The maid, still clinging to Claude’s shawl, muttered, too shocked to scream for several moment. She made up for it when she regained herself, and the room’s small windows shook.

The entire hall stopped and a pindrop would have been heard. Then everything erupted into utter chaos as each made for an exit, uncaring about anything that got in his way.

Claude ignored everything and made for the first floor.

He was stopped halfway up the stairs by a group of black-vested guards appearing on a balcony overlooking the ground floor. They were five. Unlike the guards on the ground floor, these had a loaded arbalest each. All five of which now levelled in Claude’s direction.

"Who are you? Off with your mask! Who dares cause trouble in Blacksnake's territory?"
Two of the men stepped forward and made for his mask. The first was a middle-aged man in a dark-grey evening robe. His face was red and his light brown hair hung in a neat comb-over. He looked more like a banquet attendee than a guard. He elegantly placed both his hands on the railing and gazed at Claude.

Beside him was a slender and tall man dressed in loose-sleeved attire. He crossed his arms and two protrusions could be seen around his waist that looked like two shortswords. He stood guard beside the middle-aged man.

A dozen more burly men appeared from the two corridors leading to the underground hall with all sorts of weapons, including arbalests. The four guards stationed at the iron gate from which Claude entered also approached with their weapons.

The gamblers and maidservants scrambling to escape calmed down and their cries faded. Ten gamblers appeared on another balcony.

Claude saw Arbeit hiding among the crowd, his face red and lost in alcohol as he hugged a shy maid.

Claude’s vision was dominated by red. That heartless fool all but bankrupted his own family for this?! He was a beast in a man's clothing!

Claude fought back his urge to burn him alive and regained control of himself. He glanced at him with as frigid and dead a pair of eyes as he could, then turned away. If they discovered he’d come for Arbeit, his disguise might mean nothing.

Seeing Claude checking out his surroundings, ignoring them, the middle-aged man lost his cool.

"Attack! As long as he can still breathe, you did good. I don’t mind a corpse either though!"

The arbalests twanged and five bolts came Claude’s way. They all stopped mid-air about two centimetres from Claude, however, and everyone’s jaws hit the floor together, followed moments later by the bolts.

The middle-aged man's face bleached. The guard beside him already had his sword out.

Claude ignored the pair, focusing instead on the arbalests. His volley answered theirs from a moment earlier, then he turned to the men rushing him from the stairs.

Barely two minutes later, the last of the men was out cold on the ground, elbow broken.

Claude frowned and chided himself. He shouldn’t have gone after the arbalests first. They were no threat to him once Projectile Barrier was cast. He should have dealt with the attackers first.

He was glad this mistake hadn’t been bad, but he had to learn from it. He’d been caught off guard by them thanks to his return of the arbalests’ attack, and had had to rely on several volleys of Magic Missile to regain his footing. The fight had been much harder than it had needed to be.

The hall was empty when he looked up again. Besides the guards, only a dozen people still stood in it, besides him, of course. Most were cowering under tables or behind counters. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised since everything around him was crimson and littered with bodies, some dead, some dying, a couple rolling around in agony, clutching broken stumps of limbs.

He felt no remorse for them, however. Besides the fact that they’d come after him, they were Blacksnakes. They deserved no empathy.

Now, however, he doubted he could keep his family out of this if they ever found out who he was.

His eyes returned to the balcony to find it empty as well, and the memory of the group leaving as the fight started turning against them flooded back into his mind. He was certain they’d not appeared on the ground floor yet, however.

As long as they were still up there, he could just take them out one by one. Arbeit just had to wait a little longer. His little brother was coming for him.

His casual steps reverberated to the stairs in the empty hall.

Chapter 134 - Encounter

Claude ascended the stairs slowly and perked his ears to anything he heard. It was completely quiet. Nevermind a pin hitting the ground, even a feather would have been heard. His footsteps thundered through the building and its echoes came back in the groaning wood.

Where were they? Surely he should have at least been able to hear their breathing. But no, the second floor was completely deserted. The corridor in front of him was empty, only doors broke the long stretch of wood, some open, some closed. A luxurious carpet covered the floor, almost sensual beneath his feet, even through his shoes.

The first room's door was closed. Claude opened it. It barely moved at first, but as he increased the pressure, it eventually swung open. He was surprised at how heavy it was, but he supposed it was a thick door made for better sound absorption. It would not do to have someone else's grunts interfere with your own pleasure, after all. Not in as grand a place as this had turned out to be. The room, large as it was, was empty. Another door broke the monotone of one of the side walls; the door was open, and he could see a smaller room beyond. The smaller room had a bed, messed with recent activity, though not recent enough for Claude's liking. Though it was recent enough for him to smell the stench of it even from the big room's doorway.

He saw in the reflection of a small mirror in the smaller room a washroom, and inside it a toilet. It, too, was empty. He caught a glimpse of one end of what was clearly a private gambling table, chips and cards strewn mid-game as the players abandoned the game.

The edge of the mirror revealed to him also the intersection of two couches, covered in grey blotches the origin of which was not hard to guess. A table in front held up a couple of half-empty grape and blueberry wine-filled glasses. Six in all. One had been tipped over and its former contents stained the table.

He saw beside the mirror, behind the table, a long table half-hidden beneath silver trays of food, about three-quarters eaten. Mostly meat and fine, honeyed bread. Rare fruits and about a dozen different types of confectionary also made a fair showing.

Claude turned back to the corridor and continued on to the second door. This one was open, and the rooms beyond him were of much the same layout, though it was pristine, clearly as yet untouched since its last cleaning.

Where had the lot gone? He was shocked at how terrified people could make themselves in places where it should be impossible. All the other rooms were the same as well, used or unused, they were now all abandoned, only the furniture left to tell the tale of what had happened within.

His pondering steps brought him back the stairs about five minutes after he'd ascended them. The corridor was a literal dead end, besides the rooms, none of which had any way out besides the doors leading into the corridor, and the balconies, all of which also came back to the corridor, which itself lead into a solid wall on its far end, and to the stairs on this end, there was no way to leave it.

He turned and headed to the balcony again. There had to be some secret passage somewhere. They hadn't just vanished into thin air.

"On the second floor!"

"Up there! Catch him!"

Voices started shouting below.

Claude's eyes darted to the ground floor and saw a mass of gangster pouring into the den through the entrance. These did not have the neat uniform of the bouncers, but they were armed to the teeth nonetheless. Two even had rifles. He counted 60 at a glance, and more were coming in as he did so.

They were taking advantage of their numbers to flood him with bodies, literal ones if need be. The men themselves, however, were less inclined to being the bodies when they saw the state of the den, and the mass lost all momentum. A few of the ones in the front dropped their weapons and collapsed to their knees vomiting.

Claude dashed back to the corridor. He was just a target up there on the balcony. At least in the corridor he could also lessen the impact of their numbers. He wanted to avoid that as well if he could, however. His eyes darted up and down the corridor, stopping for half a moment at each door. Which had the secret passage?!

His mind raced and he decided the most likely candidate was the storeroom in the middle of the corridor between all the other rooms. It was slightly smaller than the other rooms, now he thought about it; one wall was closer to the door than the other. He would not have noticed it had he not been specifically looking for something like that. The various racks and ledges in front of the wall obscured the abnormality well.

He reached the room and started slamming against all the racks, looking for something abnormally loose. He passed through a small door at one end of the room into a smaller side room with two servant's beds. The first one sounded fine, but the one against the wall shifted hollowly when he kicked it. He yanked it away easily, and saw the split in the wall planks. He kicked it as hard as he could, and a neat square of the wall gave way to reveal a dark, musty passage hidden between the walls. It descended down a small, creaky set of stairs to one side.

'Luminous Pearl' escaped Claude's mouth and an orb of light danced about him for a moment before darting down the stairs. He saw another door at the foot of the flight and headed down quickly.

The door led to small room, on the other side of which was another door. Beyond that was a long tunnel that vanished into the darkness under the earth. The floor of the tunnel was damp enough that the mud betrayed the escapees who'd run down it.

Claude gathered his thoughts and breath for a moment, cast another Projectile Barrier, then started down the corridor, leaving a trail of radiant orbs behind him like lamp posts along a dark road. The tunnel continued on for several hundred metres before he came to another flight of stairs. At their head he found himself inside an old hut just outside of town. He also found three young maids cowering in a corner, the whites of frightened eyes accusing him of all the wrongs in the world.

"Where're the rest?" he asked, his voice hoarse again.

The girls shuddered and tightened their grasp on one another, their fingers white with tension and their arms red from the cold. The eldest of them pointed at the hut's door.

"They've... they've scattered," the frightened words shivered out of her chattering mouth.

Claude nodded, then strode out of the hut. The hut was right on the edge of the slums, the outermost circle of its buildings, and the alley into which Claude now stepped seemed to terminate just a couple houses further along in one direction, while he recognised the other way as leading back into town in the general direction of Hurian's shop.

He stared down the alley to where it terminated, and saw across the plain outside it the other wing of the slums, where he could see a commotion in a rather large building which he recognised as the den from which he'd just escaped. That entire half of the slums had lit up like a hornet's nest, at least two hundred torches were darting up and down any number of alleys, all heading in the general direction of the den. It wouldn't be long before they started pouring out of this end of the tunnel either. He didn't have the time to search for Arbeit, even though he couldn't be far.

He supposed the bastard's luck still hadn't run out, though he bet it had to one day soon. He sighed unhappily and disappeared down the alley.

The whole night infuriated him. Every plan of his had gone wrong. He'd ended up fighting all of Blacksnake and he didn't even have a beaten bastard to show for it.

The night grew colder as he made his way out of the alley into the plain, and watched as the snow fell on his tracks, already starting to hide those further away from him. Good, he didn't want any unwelcome stalkers following him.

The snowfall thickened as he made his way back down the alleyway to Hurian's shop. He could barely see the building on the other side of the small square in which stood the tree in front of Hurian's shop by the time he arrived. His eyes darted down each of the four alleyways that fed into the small clearing in the buildings, and he breathed when he saw no one. He checked each of the four alleys again to find his bearings, then headed for the docks. It was a detour from where he wanted to go, but it was an ill-trodden section of the slums and his best bet to stay undetected.

The skies had darkened by now, and the snow fell black from the sky until the light from an open window bleached them white. His feet crisped those flakes already on the ground with a satisfying crunch which distracted Claude somewhat from his brooding. The alley narrowed as it neared its end on the docks. He rounded a corner and suddenly heard the clatter of wheels and hooves on pavement, the neigh of an unhappy horse, and the chatter of a dissatisfied carriageman urging his steed to keep his lane. He stepped to the side and let them pass, careful to stay as far in the shadows as the road allowed, then continued on once the feisty dialogue had faded back into the grey-black night.

A minute later he came across a group of four trudging through the snow. They spared him only passing suspicious glances as they passed.

"Did you guys just smell blood?" the woman in the group asked.

"You're drunk! It's the Bloody Mary you're smelling." one of the men said.

"Oh, screw you!" the woman barked, "That 'bloody' is the colour, not the smell!"

"Well, I don't smell anything. Come on! We're almost home, don't go off on one of your wild goose chases again! It's too cold for that tonight!"

Claude grimaced. He hadn't seen their faces, but he recognised their voices. The woman was Kesline, and the man her boyfriend, Jerad. They were probably going home from the tent the Mermaid ran at the moon shrine during new year's.

The memory of the tea he'd had with Kefnie the year before suddenly made its worming way into his mind. Actually, that wasn't right. It wasn't actually ran by Mermaid, at least it hadn't been the year before. Kesline had rented the spot in the tavern's name, but she'd not actually had permission from the owner. She'd wanted to run a pop-up tavern there for some extra money, but her name didn't have the clout to ensure a reservation of the spot, so she'd used the tavern's name. The money she'd made that night alone, however, was enough to pay for Kefnie's tuition for the next year.

Aleksim had forgiven her for the misuse of his tavern's name on condition that she ran the pop-up every new year's from then on, officially as a Mermaid pop-up. She wouldn't get all the money this time, but he was generous enough to offer her a decent cut.

Claude sniffed himself, and nearly vomited. Kesline was right, he wreaked of blood. The acrid smell of iron wafted off him like steam off warm water, and about as thick, too. He had to be more careful. If someone else had a similar nose, and decided to investigate where the stench had come from, he might yet get into big trouble. He doubted a dozen washes would get rid of the stench, either, so everything he was wearing was a complete write-off. Best to burn them when he got back home.

He rounded another corner, and a small figure ran into him so hard they both tumbled into the snow.

"Kyaa!" a familiar bell-like voice tolled in his ears.

Kesline's group stopped and darted back.

"You alright, Kefnie? What happened?"

"I bumped into someone... Ouch."

Claude struggled under Kefnie, half-buried in the snow. She'd sat up, but now straddle him across his stomach as she scratched her head, then her knees, in a slight daze.

"Sorry, Mister. You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine. Could you please get off me?" Claude asked.

"Ah, sorry--" Kefnie darted to her feet, her face slightly flushed. Then her nose twitched. "--What's that smell?"

"Nothing. I was helping in a butchery. I usually stink of blood and meat for a couple of days afterwards."

Did the whole damn family have hound's blood?

"You sound familiar… Do I know you?"

Kefnie asked, her forehead a question mark. Then her eyes lit up and turned into saucers. SHIT! He'd forgotten to speak in his disguise voice! Thank the gods he was still wearing his mask.

"It's not me..."

What the hell? Now it was obvious it was him! What the hell was wrong with his mouth?! He pushed Kefnie aside and darted into the darkness.

Chapter 135 - Bidlir Blanche

On the first day of Year 576, more specifically, that night, Claude was quiet sour. Though he had started the evening intent on looking for his brother and teaching him a lesson, all he got was a fight with Blacksnake and an empty-handed withdrawal. He had, at the very least vented much of his anger during the fight, and his identity had not been discovered.

As for his encounter with Kefnie, it was just a small diversion. He had disguised himself completely, even wearing a mask. He didn't think she would recognize him. The two only had a more engaged meeting during new year's the previous year and had not interacted much since. Her recognizing him was a ridiculous notion. He had never thought himself someone charming enough he would leave a lasting impression on a beauty's mind.

He thus returned home most casually. He didn't even glance at the mess he'd made. It was supposed to have nothing to do with him, after all, best to have nothing to do with it. He'd underestimated how deep Blacksnake's foundation was.

The hall was still full of people. At least 200, probably something closer to 300. Many had been summoned from neighbouring settlements, most dragged right out of their beds. No one had yet to yawn, but none dared complain in front of Bidlir Blanche. He'd just axed one of his lieutenants for yapping the wrong yaps, after all.

A lieutenant near Bidlir stood out of the ground and delivered his report on shaking knees.

"It looks like 35 dead. The 27 people working tonight's shift are all among them. There are... f-fourteen d-dead... and... and two crippled. Eleven are severely wounded and will need many months to heal and recover, a couple might not at all."

Bidlir groaned.

"Look after the families, and the crippled as well. Blacksnake does not abandon its own. And rewards for everyone who survived. I am proud that, despite the enemy they faced, not one deserted his post."

"Understood, benevolent Boss," the lieutenant bowed.

Bidlir waved him away.

"Bring them to me."

A couple burly Blacksnakes appeared a few moments later. Their hands were in terrible shapes, fingers pointed in random, unnatural directions; the men who'd brought Claude into the den. The thinner of the two was drooling foamed blood and moaned with an empty mouth.

"I have their testimonies here, Boss. We've confirmed they weren't lying," one of their escorts said, handing over a stack of bound sheets.

Bidlir glanced over the first couple pages, then frowned and waved them away.

"Take very good care of them. Show them what happens to stupid people who make empty promises and then bring this kind of trouble to our doorstep and let it into our house!

"You believe what that man said? Some sailor who's going to buy a house in town? Someone who has money and loves to gamble instead of fooling around with a woman? Someone who tips a whole thale? Fools! What kind of sailor would give such a tip? He's no shop-owning merchant! Not one of you discovered this hole in his story? Hmph!"

The two bloodied sods were dragged away as Bidlir spoke. They were not the first Bidlir had dealt with personally this night, and he doubted they would be the last. The first had been a green lieutenant too eager for recognition. He'd barged into the den and chastised the survivors for not doing their jobs properly. Bidlir turned him into carpaccio.

Now of all times was not the time for in-fighting, and he didn't care whether the fool had been too stupid to realise what predicament they were in, or whether he had been too ambitious to not try to exploit it. There was no place for fools like that in Bidlir's gang.

He turned around and found Hurian behind him. He'd called for the fat old man when he'd arrived. The sod was still rubbing sand out of his eyes.

"I'd say it was a magus. The same one I came across last time. He's even more practiced than he'd been then though," Hurian said between casual yawns, "The wounds last time were made up close. This time he kept his distance. All but three were taken down from range. Last time he also took care to miss the vital spots, but this time he aimed for them deliberately. Last time was likely a fluke encounter and he'd not wanted to get into unnecessary conflict with you, or he'd not decided whether he was interested in making an enemy of you yet. He's clearly made up his mind. He took them all out in one hit, too. He's not just good, he's powerful, too. And it looks like he was gunning for you."

"I know," Bidler snorted angrily, "I apologise for troubling you so late, Master Hurian. Krido, send Master Hurian back and give him the carton of wine I showed you."

Hurians eyes were suddenly fully awake.

"Don't feel bad. We're old friends. It's only natural to help you out here and there. I won't say no to good wine though."

Bidlir stared at his lieutenants when Hurian was gone and rubbed his temples.

"Messen, take Baldie Alaika's place and pick a fresh group of guards for the den, double their numbers. Don't pick cowards either."

"Yes, Boss," Messen answered quickly, "I won't disappoint you."

Bidlir stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

"You better not."

His gaze swept over his lieutenants again, then he pointed at the men behind them.

"Disperse."

"But, Boss, are we not going to teach the bastard a lesson?" one of his lieutenants asked.

Bidlir flashed him a furious glance and gave a single sudden step in his direction. The man jumped back in fear, but he was too slow; Bidlir's hand already had his collar.

"And what would you do? Hmm? Where do we find him? Do you know where he lives, or what his name is? And tell me, if you do, how are we supposed to catch him? Did you not see what he did to our finest on a whim tonight? Are you wusses up to the job?"

The hand loosened suddenly and the lieutenant dropped to the floor, right into the yellow puddle he'd made while up in the air.

Bidlir's gaze swept his lieutenants yet again.

"You think I don't want revenge? You think I don't want to tear the bastard limb from limb? I want to cut him into a thousand pieces with a spoon! But I won't send my men on a wild goose chase that will more than likely just be a waste of our time and resources, and will more than likely get us all killed if we somehow actually manage to find him!

"Look at this mess!--" Bidlir's giant arms swung through the room. "--All this, by just one man! One... Man! And he disappeared into thin air once he left the tunnel. Tell me, can any of you do this? Do any of you know anyone else who can?"

His eyes darted from lieutenant to lieutenant as he spoke, and they all withered under his gaze.

"We can't kill a magus with bolts or blades. We need muskets. As many muskets as our men can carry! But, tell me, where do we find the men brave enough, or stupid enough, to walk around with them in public? Hmm? How many of you can legally walk around with one? And who here doesn't know what the constables, nevermind the keepers, do to those they find with muskets that aren't allowed to have them?

"And don't think I'm deaf! I've heard the stupid among you start to criticise me in those oh-so-secret meetings of yours. You think I shouldn't be giving our money to Robert, huh? That I shouldn't be footing the bill for the new garrison? Do you understand why I'm doing it now? We can't get the weapons we need to take out that magus, so we have to find people that can and will do it for us. Or, even better, if we can get some of our own into the garrison, we will have a force, small as it may be, that will have the weapons, and be able to carry them, to take out this bastard. We'll take our time with whoever's related to the f*cker then, understood?"

"Understood, Boss," the lieutenants answered as one.

"Good. Now go do your jobs. Behave for now and don't go looking for trouble. The next couple of days will make or break all my efforts as far as the garrison is concerned. I'm not going to tolerate anyone that puts this in danger of failing! Got it?!"

"Got it, Boss!"

"Then go. And don't let any of you men f*ck this up, either! And keep your ears on the ground. I want to know the moment you hear so much as a rumour about a magus anywhere this side of the prefectural capital!"

"Yes, Boss."

The lieutenants scattered like mice freed from a trap and Bidlir wandered up to the first floor. The elegant, middle-aged man Claude had spotted earlier was waiting for him, his guard still at his side.

"It must've been terrifying, Mister Kristoff," Bidlir said, a gentle smile on his face.

The middle-aged man's elegant aura was nowhere to be seen, however. His comportment was that of a scared rabbit.

"Have you found out what the hell that was about?"

Bidlir's smile vanished, replaced by regret.

"No. All we know is that he's a magus. We don't know his age, name, address, or appearance. We only know it's the same man that fought us in the alley a while back. He is very cruel. At least last time he let the men live, this time..." Bidlir's voice trailed off. The blood still soaking the hallway on the floor beneath their was more than enough to finish his sentence for him.

"The first time it appeared like the men just got in his way, but this time he's definitely come for us."

"I-I knew t-t-they would never let me off so easily. I hid in such a backwater and changed my name, but they still found me. Mister Bidlir, I know they're here for me. This magus must be on their payroll. Thank the gods I managed to get out of the tunnel and scatter before he caught up to us. If I hadn't run the moment I saw him use magic I would be one of those corpses now, or worse..."

The man named Kristoff kneaded a handkerchief mercilessly as he spoke, his face a contortion of angst and fear.

"I have a farmstead just outside the prefectural capital. Why not go there for a couple days until we've sorted this business out? Consider it a vacation."

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea!" Kristoff yelped, almost literally jumping at the chance to get away, "I won't forget what you did for me if you can get rid of this magus!"

Chapter 136 - Lady Maria's Reply

Claude didn't know the trouble he had caused at the den would be interpreted as a contracted assassination. He couldn't explain himself even if he wanted to though. He'd decided to lay low for a while and play his role as the Ferd kid looking after Normanley Wood. He did nothing but patrol the farm and visit his parents' house.

Borik finally returned from the royal capital on the 8th of the 1st month. He wore a set of new clothes and a healthy face when he delivered Maria's reply. The trip had gone smoothly. When he'd arrived at the baroness' manor she called him in herself and asked what happened. He said she appeared genuinely worried for Claude, quite substantially so as well.

She then had him rest in her manor for a couple days while she prepared some things for him to bring back with him and wrote a reply. She even told Rodan to look after him. Borik almost felt like thanking Claude for giving him the mission to deliver his message.

She summoned him again only two days after new year's and handed him the letter and package, along with a new set of clothes and a crown as reward for his efforts, and told him to make for Whitestag with everything he had. He'd done so, and now stood in front of Claude just five days after departing.

Claude regretted not considering his finances and just handing out that thale to the gangsters. He had a couple riyas, mind you, but those wouldn't last him long.

Damnit! He should have robbed that damned den while he was slaughtering those bastards! The chips themselves weren't money, but he didn't doubt he could cash them in somewhere. He really was too honest a pauper. That said, he didn't have any reservations about stealing from Blacksnake. He didn't even think taking the stolen from the stealers could really count as stealing.

He took Borik to the bank and paid him the promised crown. He wished he could count Maria's crown as his payment, but that was a matter separate from his arrangement with the man. He finally realised just how poor he was when he handed the crown to Borik as well.

That said, he did at least still have some money in the bank. He still hated himself for not stealing the money he needed from the den, however. If he'd done that he wouldn't have had to stand in that blocks-long line to withdraw some. He should have thought that everyone was going to need a refill for their wallets after all the new year's partying.

Thank goodness for that bank account, though, or he might just have to go back to the den, better protected or not, to get those chips.

He'd taken three crowns when it finally was his turn, one for Borik, and two for himself. One of them was for his sister, for their expenses since they no longer had their father's income, and now had all those medical expenses to pay.

He only turned to his mistress' letter once he'd settled everything else and gotten rid of his urge to rob Blacksnake out of principle.

When he he'd written his letter to Maria, he'd detailed everything that had happened in town, especially everything related to what had happened to his father, including what he'd been planning and what must have gone wrong to solicit the reaction he now faced.

He knew only absolute honesty could move his mistress to aid him. Besides, there was no longer any point to keeping his father's plans a secret, especially not from Maria. She could only work things properly on her end if she knew the ins and outs of what she was handling anyway.

She hadn't disappointed him, either. Her reply was two full pages of her small, neat writing. Apart from the expected outpouring of sympathy, she'd written most carefully what she'd found out.

The fleet had indeed run into trouble. The trouble was neither a foreign power nor a disaster, however. They'd been hit by pirates.

The Alliance knew they could not take Aueras on on the seas, so they'd turned to privateering and supporting already established pirates. It had pushed the kingdom into a rather difficult position. While it was far from dire, it severely limited what the kingdom could do where naval trade was concerned, since anything and everything above a lone fishing boat had to be escorted or it would not return to port. The colonies had been all but cut off from the mainland for all a bi-annual convoy involving almost all of the kingdom's navy. At least two-thirds of the kingdom's navy had to sail in escort to keep the pirates at bay, and that was for no more than 50 trade vessels at best. And despite all that effort and power, they never returned unscathed.

Given that situation, Captain Altroni's Shark of the Red Sea didn't attract much attention when it sailed alone; it was thought of as at best a lucky smuggler. He did, however, when he docked with an entire fleet the next time. Clearly they had found a route the pirates didn't know yet.

The captain had kept his mouth, and those of his crews thoroughly shut, however, and the people eventually went back to their normal daily lives. Such a juicy cake was not going to get by without every Tom, Dick, and Harry plotting how to get a bite out of it, however.

Claude's father and his friends had been blinded by the possible profits, and forgotten that everyone else would be just as blinded as well, and most of them were not very morally inclined, especially not when they could make a bonus buck from the Alliance just for attacking the fleet.

According to Maria, Claude's father had been given a great hand, but had played it horribly. If he'd not been as greedy, if he'd reported the new trade route the moment he'd heard about it, he would have been awarded a Title at the very least. His desire for profit, however, made him blow his chance at rising to new heights, and had instead made him fall from the hill he had managed to climb.

For his part, Eriksson's father had trusted his gut when it told him he was staying on borrowed time, and sailed in the middle of the night, a day ahead of schedule. Unfortunately he'd not left early enough, for the pirates' spies had already passed word of his convoy on to their masters. And he'd also, unfortunately, not made good enough time after setting sail and had not gotten out of their net before they could close its mouth.

His ships were swarmed five days after they'd set sail. Half the crews had been killed, and the rest were captured. The entire trade route was now under pirate control and the kingdom could have no use of it.

The captured men were forced into piracy aboard their captors' ships, while the captain and a few of his close friends who'd refused to join them had been dropped on an unmapped, deserted island in the middle of nowhere.

With the new route's loss to the pirates, and with the access it provided to the kingdom's waters for their enemies, the kingdom's position had become precarious, hence the charge of crown endangerment brought against Claude's father.

Even if the enemies didn't ever actually use the new route to push into the kingdom's waters, the forces the kingdom would have to divert to guard this new backdoor would fatally weaken its presence on the main front and push it into even direr straits. And that was not counting the damage the pirates did to the kingdom's shipping with their raids through that route before the kingdom managed to react.

As for how the kingdom had come to know of the Morssen connection... The first full clash between the pirates and the diverted navy flotilla saw two pirate ships sunk and a third captured. It just happen to have a couple of the indentured Whitestag sailors aboard, and they were all too happy to talk.

The military and government was in a complete uproar. If cooler heads had not prevailed, everyone involved with the whole disaster would have been summarily executed.

Chapter 137 - Turmoil in Court

Claude breathed deeply. His worst case scenario had come true. The convoy had been eradicated. And while only a couple families had been torn apart by the arrests that resulted from it, half of the town's families had lost someone with the convoy.

Maria wrote that the news was still being kept quiet because the royal court had yet to decide what to do about this; it was still trying to settle its own nerves. The first concern was what to do about their war strategy now this new front had opened. The navy was of the opinion they should push war and shove the army at the Alliance to end this once and for all, or, at the very least, draw their attention away from the seas while the navy regrouped and rethought its own strategy.

Ideally they could take the major port cities along the coast and cut the enemy navies and the pirate forces off from their key supply chains, forcing them to move further away from Aueran waters to ports they still controlled. If the kingdom could force a quick status quo truce which resulted in the de facto ceding of the port cities, that would be even better.

The strategy sounded fine on the surface, but it didn't have any room for failure or happenstance delays. It relied on the kingdom taking the cities and pushing through a truce before the rest of the Alliance had time to mobilise. Once that happened, the kingdom would undoubtedly be pushed back, especially considering the season. They did not have the supplies in place for a prolonged fight, especially not one on enemy soil, they just barely had the supplies for a quick one.

It would also do little to the overall position of the kingdom. A couple more port cities would be worth little without the inland soil to grow crops and the inland cities to generate demand for trade. If they really only pushed the coast, the economies of the port cities would collapse and they'd be deserted, turning them into little more than additional military bases and extending the kingdom's border. An act that would stretch its already thin forces beyond the breaking point. They couldn't reasonably protect any such gains for any period of time, even in peacetime. If anything, it would worsen their footing rather than improve it.

And that was assuming everything up until the peace worked out exactly as planned. Generals and admirals had a horrible tendency to woefully overestimate their own strength, and to equally badly underestimate their enemy's. There was absolutely no certainty they could take even half the cities the plan needed for them to work. And if this turned into a full-scale war, the kingdom would not come out the better for wear.

Another key factor was that the army was dead-set against the plan, for obvious and wholly understandable reasons. Their forces would most likely be decimated in the campaign even if they were completely successful, and they'd gain little if anything out of it. The port cities, being port cities, would all no doubt be handed over to the navy. The army's duties would expand with the border, but they'd have no gains from which to put the supplies and manpower needed to fulfill them.

It was entirely unreasonable, even for the navy, the army argued, to expect them to win an entire war while the navy sat twaddling thumbs over a couple bands of pirates! Besides, it took months, even years, to set in place the mechanisms, plans, contingencies, and supply chains for such a campaign. And given this particular one's ludicrousy the army hadn't even thought of it, much less began making the preparations for its possible implementation. The first thing to go out a window in an engagement might be the plan, but the engagement would be lost before it even began without it.

The prime minister himself was on the army's side as well. Duke Cryus Man Duncan was an army man by birth and rearing, his father was the famous Dubok Man Duncan, Chief General of the entire army, and right hand to the king himself in all things military. Cryus was making full use of his position, connections, and the opportunity this crisis had presented, to rain all hell down on the navy.

The navy must surely have lost its mind. The enemy's combined naval forces outnumbered them two to one. What made them think, army aside, they could win in their theatre? Taking all the enemies' ports on the continent was worth nothing if the navy was decimated.

Lord of the Admiralty, Count Andreak Feng Carlos, did not take too kindly to the prime minister's assault on his navy's honour. In fact, he took it so badly he flung his white, navy-issue glove at the prime minister's face, drew his sword, and challenged him to a duel.

The king, for his part, could not bring himself to pick one side over the other. Andreak had been his sternest supporter since he'd ascended the throne, and had been the principle architect of their expansion in the colonies. The other, however, was his right hand and dear friend's son, and his prime minister. Not to mention he was right. The navy's strategy could hardly be called one at all.

His navy's continued undamaged existence depended on the enemy navy not sailing out to meet them on the seas, and he had no idea why they thought the enemy wouldn't do just that the moment they learnt of the war's start. Andreak said they were too divided, that each country's navy was too distrusting of all the others.

It seemed sound at a glance, much like their entire strategy, but no one believed the enemy generals were stupid enough to continue squabbling when war was afoot and the enemy was bearing down on their ports.

He was more in favour of his prime minister's more reasonable suggestion that they instead focus their efforts on securing the new trade route. His plan called for the navy to be split in two, one third would remain at Port Neru and continue watching the home waters, while the other two-thirds would move south to Whitestag and turn it into a navy port city administered directly by the crown, from there they would then move to secure the new trade route, cleaning out everything in their way along the way.

The suggestion was certainly more moderate than all-out war, but it did still call for a complete landscaping of Lake Balinga, not least of which was the expansion of the channel that connected it to Sharkmouth Bay. It would be expensive, but the prime minister suggested they take the funds for it from the bi-annual convoy they'd been sending to the colonies the last couple of years. In their current state they could hardly continue with that for the time being, anyway, so the funds would just be laying around and there was no point in letting it go to waste.

The entire military was against the plan, however, army and navy alike. They argued the convoy funds would be nowhere near enough and they'd have to cut half of each of their budgets to foot the bill, not to mention all the manpower they'd both have to divert to the endeavour. It would set all their other plans back years. The army, for one, would be unable to complete its 400-thousand-man expansion it needed to keep up with the enemy's growing strength.

The prime minister was quick to point out, however, that once the new trade route was secured, they'd no longer have to worry about protecting their shipping through the pirate infested waters off the enemy coasts, and the funds freed from that, not to mention the additional funds they'd regain from reopening more regular trade with the colonies, could more than make up for a one or two year delay to the army's plans.

No government department, least of all the military, army or navy, liked giving up money they'd been promised, however. And with the war looming, both forces were even more driven to soak up every penny they could get as quickly as they could. None of them, however, had the final say. The king, much reduced as his day-to-day involved in governing the country was, was still the sovereign, supreme authority on anything he deemed worthy of his attention.

Andreak was more emotionally invested against the plan than pragmatically. Fearless was his baby, and had been for his entire career. He'd sweat and cried blood to get it to where it was, and he was not going to sea it torn apart by some land-loving politician.

Cryus was unrelenting in his insistence that it simply had to be done, however. The navy served the kingdom through the king, and so did Andreak. If the good of the kingdom demanded he lose his baby, then had he the duty to throttle its neck himself.

The king had yet to decide at the time Maria wrote her letter, hence the actually rather tame response he'd seen so far. His father stood in the centre of the storm, however. She'd looked into the whole affair using every connection she had, and had even put in an official word of support for Claude's father. She'd even gone as far as showing Claude's letter to the king and made sure the king knew he was her student. The Lord of the Admiralty had been present as well, however, and he'd insisted that 'no connection, however close to the king, should allow that Morssen bastard to escape his due punishment!'

The Minister of Finance, Elvic Lee Frank, had also stepped in at that moment, luckily on Claude's father's behalf. He praised Morssen's ability to make such an amazing find, and for having the daring to mount such a perilous expedition to prove its worth despite being but small-time officials in a rural, municipality, and mocked the navy for knowing only how to ask for a bigger budget while showing no results for it.

It was just their bad luck that their endeavour after discovering the new route had failed so disastrously. If anything, the incredible response by the pirates proved how great the route was. If anything, the kingdom was in the wrong for not only failing to reward the people who had given it such a gift, but for seeking to punish them for it instead. He doubted whether anyone would ever again dare to show such initiative on the kingdom's behalf.

Cryus had agreed with Elvic's assessment of the situation, willing really to add his weight to anything that went against the navy's grain.

Either way you cut it really, Cryus argued, the loss of their convoy was punishment enough if punishment was something the kingdom wished to hand down. And he was of the firm opinion that it was not what ought to be handed down. Maria's student's testimony proved they were intent on declaring the trade route's existence to the kingdom after their convoy returned. The only reason they hadn't before the kingdom found out on its own was their bad luck.

All other things aside, Maria assured Claude he should not worry for his father or for any of his friends. She didn't think the king would punish them, not with so many speaking out in their favour. The worst she thought he'd do was not reward them for discovering the route, maybe fire his father from his position, but he would not lose his position as a dignitarian, and he would not go to prison or be executed.

She implored Claude to burn the letter as soon as he finished reading it. Word of this could not spread, especially not of the plans she'd discussed. The kingdom was not likely to come to a final decision before the end of the month; most likely it would continue debating well into the 2nd month, and if the plans it was considering became known to the enemy, it would be beyond disastrous. Hell, just knowledge of the turmoil the court was in would be bad enough. Either way, he was not likely to hear anything from the capital, quick decision or not, for at least another month and a half, likely two.

Chapter 138 - Two Matters

Claude took the letter to his bedridden mother. Upon hearing there was no need to worry about Morssen's life, she smiled again for the first time in weeks. She hugged Claude for nearly ten minutes before finally letting him leave her to sleep some more.

He went to his father's study and stared out the window at the crowded street in front of the mansion. He still had one major problem with which to deal: whether to tell Eriksson about what had happened to his father. The boy was recovering well, and Claude feared the news would either set him back to square one, or make him try another stupid rescue attempt when what he and his mother needed more than anything was for him to stay at home and rest.

His mother had been especially tender about giving him anything resembling news or rumours regarding his father or the convoy. She knew him better than anyone and if she was averse to telling him anything, Claude didn't think he should tell him anything either. The boy for his part, was insistent and persistent in asking after his father and the convoy, and spent most of his day staring out of the first floor window at the docks and the lake, hoping his father's sails would crest the horizon at any moment.

Claude sometimes wondered if he'd already heard about what had happened to the convoy. At the very least, even if he wasn't even at admitting it to himself yet, he had to know that a delay this long couldn't just be bad weather. He was too smart for that. Nobody actually talked about the convoy that much anymore, I suppose the prospect of a 300 family riot over an impious word was a prospect that shut most mouths quite thoroughly.

The sixteen ships of the convoy totalled a crew compliment of three hundred, each from a different family, and the captains had picked their men only from the town's families to ensure they'd keep their tongues. Claude didn't even want to think what would happen when the official news finally broke. Whitestag, if it survived the storm, would certainly never be the same.

Worst of all, Claude still didn't know how many would return, if any at all. That same thought might have been what had finally brought Eriksson's father to surrender. He could not save the convoy, but at least he might be able to allow a couple of the crew to return to their families. Unfortunately the pirates had no such inclination, and had forced everyone to join them and left anyone who'd refused with the captain on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere.

Now Claude had mulled it over again. He knew that if he told Eriksson about this, he would definitely undo all the progress the boy had made. He would likely never recover from his injuries if he knew what had happened to his father. For his and his mother's sake, Claude had to keep this from him for as long as possible.

Another four days crept by. Claude's mother was halfway recovered now and had enough strength to help out in the kitchen, if only a little. Claude returned to the bank and took out another three crowns, this time for his sister's school fees. He had to pay fourteen thales for her first year of middle school, twelve for tuition and two for books and meals, before the 15th.

Claude was the family's sole breadwinner until his father was released, if he managed to keep his job. He didn't really have the money, but he was not about to break his promises. He had just one crown and two thales left in the bank now, he'd used up a year's salary ahead of schedule, so he would not be earning an income for the whole year.

He kicked himself every day for not taking money from the den now. He'd put himself into a terrible predicament and he was more of a mind to go make trouble for Blacksnake again now than ever before.

The 15th rolled around, and two big things happened. The first was that the prefectural government approved the mayor's plan for the garrison. They approved the version where Bidlir was allowed to be a sponsor in return for a position in the garrison and his pick of his subordinates. He was given control of the fourth band. He was not, however, given permission to handle the garrison's salary. They instead gave the town a thirty percent break on its tax dues to them, which it was to put to use in paying the garrison's salary.

The town hall, despite its chief secretary's absence, was operating at full capacity to handle all the arrangements. The mayor even took time to give an impassioned speech to his worker bees and proposed a toast to the town's new independent defence force.

Bidlir received his notice of employment that very day and he got to work immediately as well. The slums, as much as the mayor's town hall, were in a jolly mood.

Welikro's father had attended the mayor's speech with several other veteran hunters, and kept a cold eye on the proceedings from the sidelines. They were most unhappy with the mayor's move, but could do little to change the decision the prefecture had made. For their part, however, they were resolved to keep a lid on the Bidlir bastard's ambitions.

Kubrik, however, was to be disappointed. Even at the end when all the letters of employment had been handed out, his name had not been called. Even Borik, the limp postman, had been appointed, but he, the town's best hunter, had not. The mayor had obviously decided to keep him out of the garrison. The mayor couldn't keep all the veterans out of the garrison, it would be too obvious, so he'd instead just kept their de facto leader out. Cut off the head of the snake, and all that. Kubrik, for his part, still had his connections, and would do what he could through them, even if he himself would not be leading the charge against the Bidlir bastard.

The veterans, following the ceremony, began recruiting from the town plaza. Welikro might have joined had his father been allowed in, he considered serving to protect his town a great honour, after all, but now he had little interest.

Claude, for his part, had no interest in joining the military or anything like it anytime sooner than was absolutely necessary. He doubted he'd be allowed to even if he'd wanted to sign up. His father was the chief conspirator in what, at least the government thought, was a conspiracy against it, after all. He had a clean record himself, but unfortunately the kingdom saw the acts of the father as the acts of the son, and so, just as the glory of the father was the glory of the son, so too was the sin of the father the sin of the son.

The whole town kept a close eye on Bidlir as he went about his recruitment, few had any intention of letting him bring in any of the thugs they all knew he had working for him. The boss of such a big gang could be no fool, however, and Bidlir Blanche certainly was not one. He set up his booth in the slums, but was careful to pick thugs from the gang who'd yet to make a name for themselves and were thus not likely to be known by anyone outside of the slums themselves.

That same day saw another major event: the arrival of the capital's envoy. He did not waste his time and declared the king's pardon over the charged conspirators and released them, however they were not spared a harsh reprimand for their greed and the losses it had caused the kingdom. Morssen and the three of his friends that served in the local government were all fired, though they were spared being stripped of their dignity and made peasants.

This news overshadowed the garrison's formation and buzzed in every tavern and inn and shop and on every street corner in town. Few of the subjects of these discussions were in the mood to join in, however. Most just headed straight home to lick their wounds and rethink their lives.

Claude barely recognised his father when he returned. Before his arrest, his father, fifty two years old, was an energetic man. He always dressed well and bore himself with an air of dignity and elegance. Now, however, he was bedraggled, greyed, and the elegance and grace trained over so many years had left him. He looked 62 rather than 52.

His mother didn't care however, and flung herself at him like a child seeing finally seeing their parent after a long separation. She orbited him for the rest of the day, tending to his every need and constantly asking how he was and what he wanted to eat. Even the snowhound lingered at his side.

Claude's father finished breakfast with little enthusiasm and went to bathe. He changed into his night robes, then called Claude to his study for a briefing of what had happened while he'd been sequestered in the town jail. Angelina had told him some of what she'd noticed over breakfast, but her narrative had focused on Arbeit's schemes and her aspirations for middle school.

Claude kept nothing from his father, nor exaggerated what Arbeit had done. He made a point of mentioning he had tried to find the bastard, however, though of course he didn't mention his escapades in the gambling den. He also handed his father Maria's letter. Claude thought he saw an extra dozen or so hairs grey when his father came to the portion regarding what had happened to the convoy. His father stopped there for a moment and stared out the study's window to collect himself before reading on, but he sent Claude out of his study at that point.

HIs mother asked Claude to spend more time with his father, hoping it would cheer him up somewhat, but Claude had little worry for his father. He could overcome this, though he didn't know what kind of man he would be afterwards. At the very least, his father had never been too attached to his position in the local government. He'd always seen it as only the first step in his career, and Claude didn't doubt he would find another route to climb back up the ladder.

He returned home late that afternoon to patrol the woods before returning to his parents' house that evening. He was met with quite the unexpected delight when he returned. He'd never thought he'd come home to see his bastard of an older brother kneeling in front of his father, more tears than man, but that is exactly what he found. It took all his effort to keep from pummelling the rat on the spot, and he'd failed, actually, but his mother stopped him, for a reason he doubted he would ever understand.

"Don't blame him. He was really trying to save your father but was tricked by someone else." She'd told him.

"Mother, do you actually believe any of what you just said?" he asked, unable to contain himself.

Chapter 139 - Arbeit's Intent

Arbeit returned to his parents' house the moment he heard about his father being released, and burst through the front door to hug his father's legs, sobbing like a beaten infant. He'd been caught red handed a few days earlier trying to steal his mother's jewellery, by his mother, no less, and she'd been furious, but, ever the naive woman she was, she'd believed him when he'd spun a story about trying to find a way to see his father and running into the deputy in charge of the camp who'd demanded money to be let into the camp, telling him that his father was being beaten daily and was on the brink of collapse.

He'd given him all the money he'd had left from the lot he'd taken last time, but it was not enough, so he'd come home to find the rest money, but the only valuables they had were his mother's jewellery. He'd wanted to talk to her and ask for it the right way, but he knew Claude would not give him another penny. The brat didn't treat his older brother, who was putting his life on the line to try and save their father, with any respect.

He'd been told today, however, that his father was released, and realised something was off. When he checked with the other officers at the camp to try and find the deputy, he was told no one like that had ever been in the camp or with the keepers, and he'd been unable to find the man since.

Claude was completely speechless. He stared at his father for a long moment, then his eyes returned to the crying bastard at the man's feet. Did his father actually believe any of that? Please, please just don't tell him his father actually believed it!

His mother was a loving, sobbing mess who'd believe anything Arbeit told her as long as it preserved his innocence in her eyes. There was no trying to convince her he was lying. But surely his father wasn't stupid enough to believe him?

Unfortunately it seemed his father was. He stroked Arbeit's hair and sighed.

"Stand up, it's no big deal, son," he said gently, "So be it. I'll buy your mother some more when I make money again. Stop crying. Go wash your face. You're 22 for goodness sake, stop acting like a naive twelve-year-old."

"You... you actually believe him?" Claude asked, more as an exhalation than a sentence after Arbeit had left.

Morssen didn't respond immediately.

"What can I do but believe him? He's my son, your elder brother. He's family. The same blood runs in your veins as his."

Claude felt his anger pulsing in his temples, but his mother's health would not bear the shock of what he wanted to reveal. His father, for his part, wasn't behaving like he would have expected based on how he knew him. It seemed the fight had truly left him, even the fight to discipline his eldest son. He seemed to lack the strength to even speak. He mostly just sat and smoked his pipe.

Ugh, it was so infuriating to be surrounded by idiots and dimwits! But what could he do? Like his father had said about Arbeit, the idiots and dimwits were family. He supposed he'd just have to get Arbeit back extra hard later.

He was reminded of all the novels he'd read back on earth. He usually found himself disbelieving the ability of the antagonists to actually be so ghastly. He doubted people were capable of such bestiality. He'd discussed it with his old boss, in fact. The discussion had been somewhat more abstract, however, concerning the different fundamental values between the Chinese and most foreigners.

His boss felt their own values were obviously superior, so much so, in fact, that merely suggesting they could be compared to foreigners was an insult. Claude had questioned how he could believe that if the stories about their behaviour so frequently showed they behaved much better than the average Chinese.

His boss had quite literally spat that he should not believe so-called experts. Sure, the Chinese were far from perfect, he knew no one who claimed they were, but they had a moral baseline, a fundamental set of axioms and principles that were to be adhered to at all costs. The foreigners allegedly did not. The Chinese had two thousand years of civilisation which taught them the proper decorum of public life, such as to respect their elders. Personally, he'd never seen a single foreign teaching that taught the same.

They were barely any better than savages, according to him. They did their neighbours in for the smallest profit and dragged people to court of things as insignificant as sneezes. They harped on about 'democracy' and 'freedom' but all they had, and wanted, was the freedom to do everything else in for their own benefit. If he doubted anything his boss said, he could just look at crime statistics. The absolute numbers were several times worse for them despite their population being much smaller than China's. It was clear as day who fared better.

Claude could not argue with the man on the spot. And his experiences in this life, while having failed to discredit the foreigners' values, did validate his own. He'd respected his parents and elders, cared for his siblings, and stood with and in defence of the family in its time of need. His wretch of a brother, however, had done nothing but try to enrich himself at his family's quite literal expense.

The bastard was barely more than a dog. Arbeit, at the very least, was no fool, Claude had to admit. He knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it with the least amount of effort on his part. He'd gotten his job with Sir Fux by riding his father's coattails, after all. He'd contributed only the tiniest amount towards earning his position.

He'd remained the filial son only on the service, and only because at the time he'd believed he would eventually succeed his father as the town's chief secretary and inherit the lion's share of his father's wealth, as well as the mansion.

He was not happy with the lion's share, however, which was why he hated his siblings with a fervor even religious fanatics would find frightening. They were nothing but leeches stealing his rightful inheritance. He'd feared his father, however, and that had kept him from simply killing them. Later, his fear of his younger brother and added to that and it had driven him out of the house.

The moment his father was arrested, however, his dreams were smashed. He knew his brother and mother would bleed his entire inheritance to get him back or do anything for him, so he panicked. He had to find a way to get his inheritance before they had a chance to throw it away. First he had to break away from the family so he wouldn't be dragged down with them, however.

If his father had been tried and convicted of endangering the crown and lost his status as a dignitarian, he would be stained as well. If he were still associated with his household at that time, and tried to maintain the facade of the filial son, he'd have to take over his father's role in the household and look after his mother and siblings using his inheritance. He'd lose everything.

He'd rather die than do that, however, and his only other option was to break from the household entirely. To disown himself and form his own household. Each male adult had to register his own household and pay taxes for said household. If his father was executed however, the Ferd household would have no adult male beside him, and so he would have to step in as its head. If he refused to however, and registered his own household, he would have no responsibility for their financial burdens. In doing so, however, he would also lose his claim to the household's inheritance, and his entirely life had been an obsession of it, so he would not accept that either.

He had to wait to hear what would happen to his father before he could decide whether to break from the household or not. In the meantime, however, he could beg, rob, and steal as much money from his mother as he could so that if he did have to break from the household, he would not leave empty-handed. He could only get to his mother's things, however, such as her personal fund and her jewellery.

The majority of the house's money, and the mansion itself, was owned in his father's name, and would have been frozen the moment he was arrested, so he could do nothing with any of it, and couldn't even get his hands on most of it, frozen or not.

Ideally for him, his father would be executed, or sentenced to life in prison, but his assets and family would be spared. In that case he would take up the household and claim his inheritance, then kick Claude out. Once he was gone, he could do with the money what he wanted. He knew how to twist his mother around his pinky, and his younger brother and sister were too young to do anything.

He'd turn his sister into his servant, which was all she was ever going to be good for, anyway, and kick his little brother out the moment he turned eighteen. The snowhound could be turned into cheap meat for the slums, or sold off in the market if it was obedient enough.

The thought that his father would emerge from the whole ordeal, legally at least, unscathed had never even crossed his mind. It was the worst possible outcome, especially considering the course of action he'd started taking. He'd spent the whole of the previous night figuring out what to do, and had finally decided to play the fool and beg his parents for forgiveness for his stupidity at getting 'scammed'.

He knew his mother would lap it up. That old wench believed anything that preserved him in her good graces, but he didn't know if his father would. He knew Claude wouldn't believe him even if everything he said was true, but all that really mattered was that his parents got back on his side. He knew that, as much as Claude distrusted and hated him, he would never do anything that went against their parents' wishes, so as long as they accepted his apology and forgave him, the little brat's hands would be tied.

Chapter 140 - Filling Pockets

Three days had now passed since he'd left. The swamp was nothing but white, broken only by the bare bark of the sleeping trees.

Claude sighed and kicked his foot into the snow. He stared at the scene for a while, then sighed and turned back. He shouldn't have come. He'd thought he could get a couple niros crocodiles, but he'd forgotten they were all away in their burrows under the snow or the ice in the winter.

He should have studied their behavioural patterns more before deciding to hunt them. He'd taken so much time out of his schedule for this trip, three days had come and gone and he'd still not seen one.

He patted Jemmy's back and the black horse rubbed its snout against his leather hat a couple times.

"Alright, let's go back. You must be cold and tired."

He ascended the sled and slapped the reins, sending Jemmy back to town at a canter.

The cold cut through his clothes and nipped at his bones. Fortunately, the sky was bright, if not clear, and it wasn't snowing. He even thought he saw a ray of sunlight piercing the clouds in the distance. The 2nd month was halfway gone and winter had turned. Spring was still a ways off, but the snow had at least begun to thin. Another fortnight and it might just start melting properly. Winter would not let up for probably another two weeks, but the moment the first soil broke through the snow, everything would be green.

Spring was usually a happy season, and the omens of its coming welcome, but for Claude it was nothing but bad news. Spring did not make for good hunting. All the water made the swamp impassable. Even worse, even the animals he could hunt elsewhere would have lost, or be busy losing, their winter coats, and pelts taken in that time were all but worthless. The best season for pelting was late autumn into early winter when the pelts were full but the animals had yet to turn in for the long sleep.

Claude felt most pitiful at the moment. He was a transmigrator. Everything he'd ever read told him he should be some incredible being, a force with which to be reckoned. He was not. Instead he was just some meager peasant fighting to earn his food money. Was there a more pitiful transmigrator? If there was, he had never come across any mention of him. Life gave him little choice, however. His one skill was utterly taboo in the world, at least as far as the general public was concerned.

His family's sorry state was no ease on his mind either. His father had taken the reins of the household after his return. Lost job or no, he also seemed just as busy as always, but he had changed considerably. He counted his words carefully; there were days he said not one. He'd replaced them, instead, with smoke, which he now did non-stop from the moment he woke up, even before he'd gotten out of bed, until the moment he closed his eyes, even after having gotten in bed.

His mother was recovered and she'd returned to her usual, familiar, and comfortable role as mother and housewife. Angelina was at home far less now, spending most of her day at school. She was happy, which was the most important thing, Claude reflected. His bastard of an older brother had gone back to his old, pre-Claude habits. He'd moved back into the house and was living off his parents again. He'd taken to sweet talking his parents every chance he had, which was both a welcome and unwelcome change. It was an improvement on his sour old self, but Claude knew he had at least a dozen ulterior motives.

For his part, Claude had focused on doing his job, for which he was now unpaid for several months. He stopped by his parents' house every day, however. His intent, mostly was to bring up the money he'd spent to keep things going while his father languished in prison, but he'd not yet found the opportunity to. Upon reflection, however, he'd had more than a couple chances, he'd just chosen not to use them each time. He had a nagging feeling he would never forgive himself for trying to collect the debt, substantial as it was, from his own family.

He'd intended to do so in the beginning, thinking he could turn to hunting again to earn some money, but this time he'd not netted a single catch in the two weeks he'd been at it already.

Welikro had stopped by for a single visit at some point. He'd gone hunting with his father and brought Claude a goat thigh. When he heard about Claude's vain efforts, it took him nearly three minutes to be in a state capable of talking again, his stomach in dire need of a good massage. The only good game to hunt that time of year, he'd then explained, were deep in the mountains.

Despite his hint, Welikro warned Claude never to go deep into the mountains. The beasts there were ferocious, fearless, and numerous. Even worse than them, however, was Claude's unfamiliarity with the terrain. If he lost track of where he was for even a moment, he would never make it back out.

Claude had seriously considered going to the mountains, but he decided not to risk it after hearing his friend's warning. He didn't have to worry about wild beasts, but he was just as vulnerable to getting lost as anyone else, if not moreso.

Welikro, at some point thereafter, however, mentioned that they'd used a sled to go through Kemda Swamp before darting over the iced lake to Egret, and Claude had been reminded of the crocodiles. Which brought him back to where he was now, three days later.

He'd been too optimistic, he now realised. The swamp was much easier to navigate, sure, but the animals were all but gone. His food was running low, and he'd scanned most of the swamp and not found so much as a single pawprint. It was time to cut his losses and head home.

He'd wanted an alchemical array so badly he could taste it when he didn't have one. Now he had one, he realised he'd never considered whether he could actually make use of it with the state his finances were in. It had turned into a giant elephant and was now only gathering dust. Then again, if his father hadn't gotten himself arrested, he might have had enough money to finish his work on a flintlock musket.

Instead, he had nothing, and just eleven shaliuns. He wanted to buy the materials he needed, but the only place he could was Hurian's shop, and he had vowed never to do business with that damned fox again.

He might have another go at Blacksnake; they had their den back up and running so he could always pop in for some shopping. Right now it was his best bet, and he was considering it seriously. The garrison with Bidlir's thugs had been formed, but they were still being trained and would be occupied for a while more.

If he wanted to go after them, now was the best chance he would get. He'd thought about it a lot these last three long days, and had decided to go for it. The choice made, the excitement and anticipation were boiling in him. The only thing he was waiting for now was the right moment to strike.

When that time came, he would set off from the wood. The garrison and the keepers had built snow-ice walls around the town, leaving only the main entrance open, but he would not be going into the town through the main entrance. If Blacksnake got wind it might have been him, the keepers could bear witness that he'd never gone into town.

He headed home and waited a couple days, then set out for his mission.

The night was perfect. The night reminded him of the old saying 'kill when the night is dark; burn when the wind is strong'. It was new moon, and a light haze hung over town, obscuring the stars. One could only see by candle and lamplight.

Claude wore what had become his magic wear. A dark-grey robe with hoodie, his mask, and his shawl. He set out right after dark and arrived just as the last light of the day was being chased away by the black of the night. The ground was still solid, though most of the snow had melted, so he would leave little in footprints. He crested the hill and stared at the slum below. The alley he needed to take was directly in front of him.

The guards had lit a number of fires, but Claude saw no one manning them. They'd probably all retreated to a nearby outpost. He shook his head. Even if they were peering out of the building's windows, seeing from the darkness into the light was easy, but it was near impossible to see from the light into the dark.

That said, Claude remained cautious. He kept to the treeline as far as he could, then slipped to the embankment along the edge of the lake, and followed it to the buildings. It took him an hour, but he finally reached the spot where he could slip into town. He took out a roll of fish line and tied the free end to a nearby tree, the other end he tied to a bob, and tossed it town the slope. He might be able to jump the seven metres down without an issue thanks to Featherfall, but he would need help getting back up.

Satisfied the line wouldn't come loose, he leapt and floated down the slope. From there he headed for the alley. He took it back out to the edge of town and started looking for the secret passage, though he didn't know if it would still be there.

It took him half an hour, but he finally found the old hut. He stood outside it and perked his ears. The house was as quiet as the lake, so he went up to the door, on which he found a massive, crudely made iron lock.

He checked his surroundings to make sure he was alone, the cast Magus' Hands and Fine Control and set about picking the comically huge lock. It took him a minute to get the hang of it, but finally the lock opened with a satisfying click.

He shot into the hut and closed the door behind him before setting about finding the entrance to the tunnel. The room in which he stood was empty, but the other side had another locked door. This time it didn't take him as long to get it and the lock snapped open with a much crisper sound. He gave it a shove, but it didn't budge. He checked the seam and found a latch on the other side of the door.

He was not about to let wood stop him, and a Magic Missile later he was in the other room. The passage glared at him there, and he headed down it without hesitation, a pearl of light glinting above the palm of his hand.

Chapter 141 - Wasted Trip

Wait, why was it so quiet? It was supposed to be a gambling den; weren't they lively places? And surely the secret entrance should be guarded. Despite his sudden misgivings, Claude pushed on up the stairs and cracked the bedding open. His heart sank.

The room was completely dark. He couldn't hear a single breath or footstep. He shoved the cover aside and got out to find a completely empty storeroom. There was nothing in the room besides the two beds. He cast Luminous Pearl and immediately saw the thin layer of dust that covered everything.

So they'd abandoned this place after his little escapade. But surely he hadn't upset them enough to make them move their operation? He held his breath and stepped out into the hallway. It, too, was empty, and all the rooms were locked.

He could see shelves full of alcohol in the storeroom, however, and the gambling tables and all the other furniture was still there. Surely it couldn't be abandoned. They must have just closed it temporarily.

Claude's guess was not too far from the truth. Bidlir didn't think the men he'd moved into the garrison would take so long to be trained, so he'd closed until they were free. Shortly after he'd closed it, however, he'd been informed that all the men would be sent to posts the moment their training was finished, and that they would get no leave for quite a while. Neither he nor any of his men were exempt.

He'd nearly kicked the messenger, but he could blame no one but himself for putting himself in this position.

He'd intended to use the garrison only as an excuse to let his minions carry firearms in public. He'd... negotiate with the mayor to have his assigned post be the docks, where he would use his men to kick Shark out of town and take over. That was the whole reason he'd bothered with this garrison business at all.

He was no idiot. He knew that no matter how great his power through the gang, he would never walk among the elite with it. The only way to get into those social circles was to build up a legitimate reputation devoid of such trash as his little Blacksnake. He'd hoped to use this as his stepping stone into that world.

His ambition had driven him to ingratiate himself with the fool baron. He was only a figurehead, but that was all Bidlir needed; someone to open the door for him. He'd do all the walking himself thereafter. He'd been right so far, too.

That was, until the whole debacle with the convoy. If the chief treasurer, chief secretary, and chief constable had not been removed from office, Robert would never have been anything but a figurehead. But with them out of the way, he'd gotten his hands on actual power, and absolute power at that.

Luckily Bidlir had played his cards right, and was in the august baron's good graces. The two had set up the whole garrison scheme and his involvement together. He'd loved the idea of having a title of actual, legitimate authority behind his name.

His predicament would be not so good if he'd been greedy. But luckily he'd kept his senses about himself. If he'd pushed Blacksnake into too much of a powerful position, he'd have been unable to keep it out of the sights of the town's new custodians in the keepers. At its current size, however, it had enough strength to hold on to its dominant position in the slums, while still being small enough to go uncared about, if not unnoticed, by the now-way-too-many authorities.

He had little interest in the normal goings-on in town, but he still had to keep up the facade of a caring, obedient townsman for the two months of his training, so he had. He'd been a boss for far too long, and it had been showing on his body for more than a couple of years, in addition to which he was also now 47. He could not keep up with the young lads even if he knew magic. Which was why he so loved that he was an officer, and thus not subject to the same rigorous physical training, not that his version was a joke.

He also enjoyed immunity from reprimand by anyone in town but perhaps the mayor. He'd been given his position by authorisation of the prefecture, so no one had the power to remove him besides the mayor, who was in overall charge of the garrison. Not to mention he had the added protection of being the main funder of the whole endeavour. With that bastard bigshot hunter out of the way, he had little trouble with the other veterans.

With all his time and energy taken up by his new career, he had none left to spare for the den, so he'd decided to just let it sit and ruminate for a while until he had everything in place. He doubted he'd be able to make a profitable business out of it for a while anyway. He'd lost his core team, and most of his customers didn't feel safe or comfortable in the place given what had happened and the fact that the perpetrator was still at large.

Best to let the whole affair take a rest until the dust had settled and he had the manpower and weaponry to deal with the pest that had caused him so much trouble.

Claude, of course, knew none of this. And he'd wasted another trip as a result. He couldn't give the gang grief if they just refused to play the game. He sighed and locked the entrance to the old hut behind him as he left. Best not leave any traces of himself behind, otherwise they might just move the den for real. He checked the tiny hole he'd made earlier, and filled it with mud.

Turning around, he found a somewhat bleaker town staring back at him. Nothing had gone his way beside his father's release since new year's. If only that had meant he was standing still, but he was farming backwards. He had little choice but to continue trying, however, so he headed into the darkness.

His thoughts took him to Hurian's shop, where he saw nothing either. He couldn't even find light leaking through a crack in the wall, curtains, or roof. He looked around for a rock to throw through the window, but the urge had left him by the time he found one and he just stared at the building again.

No, he shouldn't do such things. He was better than that, than all of them. He would not betray his principles for some materials. Robbing the gang was already pushing it, he was not going to rob a magus.

He wasn't a saint, but he had at least some moral marrow in his body. If he was to rob, he would rob those who made their living by doing the same to others. He would take what was already stolen, not that which had been legitimately earned.

The man had exploited him, but it was hardly enough to cause hatred in Claude. It was the world of a merchant, it was simply what they did. He had just been too naive to notice it and that was his problem.

He was not so base as to resort to robbery and thuggery over a bad deal. Not to mention that for all his shade, Hurian would not have been acting without at least the passive approval of his superiors, so going against him would probably bring the whole organisation behind him down on Claude's head. Righteous or morally justified or not, it was best to avoid crossing Hurian and the people that stood behind him.

His feet crossed the street into Old Street and he circled back to the lake. The road had become quite busy as he had walked, and he now had to pay constant attention to the road in front of him to avoid other pedestrians. He heard a pair cry somewhere off to the side, then saw two figures standing in front of him.

"Blacksnake has business here, if you don't have business with this business, then buzz off!" one of them shouted.

Chapter 142 - The Magus that Robs

"Business? What kind of business, let's hear it," Claude half-barked, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

They were playing right into his hands! He hid his beaming smile and marched on.

"Dammit, are you deaf? We told you to f*ck off!" a dark silhouette cried.

It rolled its fists and stepped forward imposingly. Claude had seen his fair share of thugs, however, and the man was on the ground moaning in less than two seconds.

"So tell me, what shenanigans are you snakes up to?" Claude demanded, his foot digging in the poor sod's face.

The other silhouette stepped forward, having only now processed what had happened to its partner, but a glance from Claude stopped it dead in its tracks, then...

"Stop, let him go!" the silhouette cried, finally.

"Oh, right, there was another one of you," Claude chirped absentmindedly.

His foot lightened ever so slightly, letting blood flow from the poor sod's head where the rocks of the alleyway had cut. Despite what his head had gone through, the bastard had yet to make a peep, however, so Claude thought he might as well try the other one.

He slammed his foot into the nape of the sod's neck, knocking him out instantly, then turned to the other silhouette. The figure took several steps back in response, and its dagger finally made an appearance.

"D-don't come here... I... I have a knife..."

Claude didn't stop.

The figure stared at him, and panic finally fully overtook his mind. His dagger flew in Claude's general direction and the figure screamed as it darted off in the opposite direction.

"S-someone! Q-quick! There's... there's--"

Its words stopped mid sentence as a Magic Missile hit it right between the shoulder blades and it collapsed limply, skidding about half a metre from the blast.

"Ugh..."

The shot had taken a decent chunk out of the whimp's back, just beside the backbone. It had taken the bone down to the marrow with it, however. The man would be a paraplegic if he survived, which was itself still very much uncertain. Blood bubbled from the hole non-stop however, and the poor man was clearly in a world of pain all its own. Claude felt just the teeniest bit sorry for him. He'd intended to strike his thighs, but his aim had been off -- aiming with a bare hand with a ball of light in it was prone to imprecision, after all -- and he'd hit his back instead.

The man was out cold by the time Claude reached him, and so he was sat with two unconscious fools, one of which would likely never wake up again. He sighed, disappointed in his lack of skill which had once again cost him, and searched the two bodies. They didn't have even a full thale between the two, however.

"What the hell? You call yourselves gangsters but you're all barely more than beggars!" Claude spat in a low voice.

His ears perked as a set of hurried footsteps echoed his way. He heard a man's cry and bunch of footsteps behind that. Claude could just barely make out their outlines. They were more a sense of movement than concrete figures. He was quite surprised and impressed they could even tell he was an enemy, in fact.

Then again, he was the only one wearing a mask and a robe. The former might be missed, but the latter would be noticed even if just his barest outline were visible.

It took the figures only a moment to realise what had happened and come charging at him, weapons drawn.

"Bastard! You think you can rob us?!" one of the figures shouted, Claude neither knew nor cared which.

They started their charge about eight metres from Claude; the last one fell still three metres away from the young man.

"Ouch!"

"Ack!"

"Oooo... Ugh!"

Moans suddenly filled the deserted alley as several more figures joined the two already on the ground, these still awake and feeling and giving voice to all all their pain. One of the figures was dead already. It had been in the way of one of the others, and as such had taken the other's missiles in their place. They might survive one, but two, even both on the extremities, were fatal. And Claude wasn't being particularly careful to avoid their vitals either. He only needed one to survive, the rest could die and he'd still be in decent shape.

The final thug, having escaped being struck, lost his nerve and stopped his charge. He didn't remember to run away however, as the cloud cover broke in that moment and cast a ray of monochrome light on his foe. The sight, the dark grey robe, the shawl and mask... it drove his mind back to what he'd seen in the gambling den a couple weeks earlier, and his bladder failed him. He collapsed to the ground, a whimpering, slobbering mess.

"Please... please don't kill me... Lord Magus... I... I surrender," he managed between the chatters of his teeth.

Claude started casting another Magic Missile, then thought better of it and spared the man.

"You recognise me?" He asked instead, in as deep a voice as he could muster.

The sod nodded vigorously, as if given a new lease on life, though his teeth continued to chatter and his eyes never stopped being fountains.

"Y-you're the Lord Magus... P-please forgive m-my offence!" he half-screamed, though in a weak whimper. The sound was most pitiful, and unnerving.

Claude's eyes wandered to his robes, and he finally realised he'd been wearing the same getup every time he'd taken action in his magus persona. He'd not thought a bulletin about him would have gone out to the whole gang already.

"What business does Blacksnake have here?" Claude asked plainly.

The slobbering mess that had once called itself a Blacksnake, sparked another answer, a slight hint of life returning to its eyes. It had finally realised all the encounters must have been just their bad luck in crossing the magus, he was not really out to get them. Or so he desperately prayed, like he'd never prayed before.

"L-lord Magus... Our right-hand came here to negotiate the purchase of shares in the seven taverns by the docks with Shark."

"Negotiate?--" Something weird was going on. "--You're negotiating with Shark? You're not messing with me, are you? Their base is here? I thought they operated around the docks."

"I speak no wrong word, Lord Magus. You might not know it, but the acting commander of Shark, Jerad, lives here. He comes back here every night. Our right-hand decided to corner him here and force him to hand over the seven taverns."

"That doesn't sound right... Didn't you all agree to a truce? Your boss even promised Town Hall he'd not trouble Shark."

"Uhm... Lord Magus, it's the middle of the 2nd month but the convoy isn't back yet, and we've heard they won't be coming back at all. Blacksnake has voided the truce given this information. As for his promise, with the official witnesses no longer in Town Hall, he isn't bound by his oath."

Claude smiled bitterly. He didn't think his father and his friends had been the ones keeping Blacksnake in check.

"We're the biggest gang in Whitestag now, especially with all the top members of Shark gone with the convoy. On top of that our boss is a bandsman in the garrison. Our right-hand's decided Shark should pack up and leave town. The town belongs to us now."

So they were making their moves now, huh? He supposed the martial law had its upsides. If not for it, the town might have had an all-out gang war on its hands.

"You have money, yes?" Claude asked suddenly.

"Uhh... Yes," the sod nodded.

"How much?"

The sod's money pouch made an poor appearance, and it counted the coins inside.

"... A thale and three riyas."

The money pouch vanished from the sod's hands and reappeared in Claudes. He pointed at the sod's three unconscious companions.

"Get their money pouches as well, and any loose change they might have on them. I'll show you hell if you try to hide any of it."

"W-what do you want?" the sod asked, perturbed even more by his tormentor's sudden change in attitude.

"Get to it or you'll end up just like them. Didn't you accuse me of robbing when you came over? Since you're accusing me of it, I might as well earn the accusation. I'll rob you properly. If you work quickly, though, I will not put you down as well."

The sod crawled over to his companions like he was being chased by a lion, but he refused to stand up, afraid his tormentor might just decide he didn't like it and put a projectile through his chest. He crawled back thirty seconds later, three pouches in hand. They had felt rudely empty in his hands, so he'd taken the liberty of adding one of his companions' rings.

One of the poor sods, half his mind starting to work again, started to fight back, but the first sod gave him a good slap.

"Idiot! I'm trying to save your life!"

He offered the pouches the same as he would an offering to the war god, but they weren't taken.

"Empty them into one sack, then count them and tell me how much you have," he heard his tormentor's deep voice order. He felt something sail by his head, and caught a glimpse of the blade-side of an axe, twirled by a vile hand. He swallowed involuntarily, then quickly did as he was told.

"T-two thales, four riyas, seven sunars, three fennies, a-and six pennies..."

"You all really are nothing more than beggars! Do you walk around with empty pouches all day long?" his tormentor cursed.

The sod wanted to explain they never really needed money, they just took what they wanted, but he didn't open his mouth without being told to speak. They'd probably really walk around without so much as a fenny on them if they didn't have the habit of gambling and betting.

"That one over there has a ring as well. Go get it."

He turned around to look in the direction his tormentor had pointed, though he was certain he'd taken the only ring any of them had, then he felt a pain at the back of his head, and the world went truly black.

"Shi..."

Chapter 143 - Battle in the Yard

Claude was still dissatisfied despite the money pouch he kneaded in his hand. He'd stolen from six people, but he didn't even get a thale for each. Even though the sack looked filled to the brim, most of it was copper. He wouldn't even have bothered if not for his horrid financial situation. He didn't know why those poor folks would join the gang if it didn't make them much, anyway.

He put the sack into his backpack and placed his hopes on the second-in-command instead. That man better not be as embarrassing as his other subordinates and have a few silver or gold coins in his pockets. Copper coins would be horrible as it would only trouble him to have to count them.

He decided that if the other minions didn't at least have one thale on them, he would break a limb of theirs. He wanted to make them gain the habit of bringing at least one thale with them to keep their limbs, otherwise he wouldn't be able to afford a single box of whiteroot powder after a busy night like this. It would be a huge waste.

The apothecary near the open market sold whiteroot powder for 18 thales per box, almost half as much as what Hurian charged, yet these six Blacksnake thugs only carried five thales between them. Hold on, if he included the ring, it should be more than five thales. He hoped to get 13 or 14 thales for the ring, which would at least give him enough for a box of whiteroot powder.

With the powder, he would be able to continue his experiments in the hut. One box should be enough for him to finish research on flintlock guns if he were savvy enough. The thought of him having to rob thugs to afford materials for experiments as a one-ring magus embarrassed him. He was no doubt a failure of a magus.

As expected, the thugs were gathered at Kesline and Kefnie's home. It was the small two-storey building at the end of the alley.

This time around, the Blacksnake thugs were different from the ones Kamadi led there the last time. At least, Kamadi had respected the truth and only tried to provoke them without landing the first move.

But the second-in-command of the gang occupied the whole building outright. Claude could hear the cries and shouts from the house.

There was a small yard before the building which was lit by some four torches on the walls. Five to six figures could be seen moving about there.

While Claude was still some ten meters away, someone in the yard spotted him and thought him as one of their own. "Something went down just now. I was wondering what that coward Roben was screaming about. Did he get punched by Elliot again? Hahaha..."

Claude didn't reply and continued making his way to the yard. He stood there without moving as he analysed the situation within. Apart from the six he saw, there were three others laying on the ground, seeming to be groaning in pain. They should be Jerad's bodyguards.

"Eh? Who are you and where are you from? What are you doing here?" Someone finally noticed that something was amiss. Claude's getup wasn't the same as those on their side. However, none of them understood why Claude just stood there like that.

"It's a robbery!" Claude declared, "Kneel and place your hands behind your head!"

The six thugs in the yard were flabbergasted. They exchanged glances before laughing out loud. Some even clutched their stomach from the painful, convulsive laughter.

Even the Sharks who were groaning couldn't stifle their laughter. One Blacksnake thug nudged a bodyguard with his leg and said, "Oh, god, I thought you were hurt the worst and didn't want to hurt you too bad, but I see you were feigning injury all this time..."

Claude's expression was dark. What was so laughable? Did he do something wrong? His getup was just fine, damnit! He waved the handaxe.

"What's with all the laughing? It's a robbery, I tell you!"

The moment the words left his mouth, the thugs laughed even harder, looking like they couldn't contain themselves in the slightest. They were just shy of rolling on the ground in laughter and becoming completely defenceless.

Claude suddenly understood why laughter was the best tool for provoking an enemy. He felt his blood boiling. What was so damn funny? They should just tell him! What the hell were they laughing at?!

Just as he was about to use a Magic Missile to show them who's boss, two of the thugs tried to stop laughing as they reached out for a hunting crossbow and arbalest respectively and aimed them at Claude.

"Haha, friend, you better drop that handaxe of yours. Hahaha... You're trying to rob the six of us with a measly handaxe? How did you even come up with that idea? Hahahaha!"

He finally knew why they were laughing so hard. They had thought that he was trying to rob them with a little handaxe. Compared to their arbalest and crossbow, the handaxe did look a tad inadequate.

He didn't expect them to carry those two ranged weapons. It's no wonder they treated the handaxe-wielding Claude as a joke. Claude loosened his fingers and let the axe fall to the ground. But by the time he pulled his hand back, he cast a Projectile Barrier spell on himself.

"Hey, kid, walk here slowly and kneel with your hands behind your head like you said," the man with the hunting crossbow said as he stifled even more laughter, "I've really never seen this pattern before. I don't know how you came up with it."

"How I came up with it is none of your business. I'll just demonstrate it for you to see."

"I like you, kid. You're pretty dauntless for wanting to rob us with only a handaxe. You aren't even afraid even though we have six people on our side. Not bad, kid. You have potential. I'm rooting for you, pfffft!"

"How do you know he's not afraid? His face is all masked up! Maybe he's so terrified that he's already in tears! You just can't see it! Hahahaha!"

"Come here, kid. Didn't you hear me? Don't make me open a hole in your body. Walk here slowly and remove your shawl. Let me see who you are."

The Blacksnake thugs in the yard began to talk casually and didn't take the disarmed Claude seriously. As far as they were concerned, Claude was already their prey, given that they had two bolts aimed at him already. They were free to do with him as they pleased.

Claude sighed and waved his hand once, sending out two Magic Missiles and causing two of the happily chatting grunts to groan in agony. They collapsed to the ground with their hands clutching their belly.

Two audible twangs resounded. The arbalest and hunting crossbow bolts shot towards Claude with lightning speed, but they seemed to be blocked by an unseen barrier. They paused in the air and lost their momentum before falling to the ground.

It was a complete turn of events. The remaining four thugs stared wide-eyed and the smiles that were still on their faces contorted horribly. Their jaws seemed to have been locked open. Never did it occur to them that the masked robber was none other than the terrifying magus.

The man holding the hunting crossbow reacted quickly. He took two steps backwards slowly before tossing his weapon towards Claude when he thought the latter wasn't paying attention and turned to run. Too bad Claude waved a Magic Missile and opened a hole in his back, causing the man to collapse on the ground after taking his final breath.

Claude was as brutal and ruthless as he could be to the thugs who shot people without concern.

Just as he was about to shoot the arbalest-holding man, another thug snapped out of his stupor after witnessing the death of the crossbowman. Knowing that escaping was pointless, he steeled himself and threw a paper bag that seemed to be releasing some kind of white powder into the air at him. "You want my life? You'll have to take it!"

He drew a sharp knife and leaped towards Claude.

He was only around six meters away. He threw his paper bag first before dashing forwards with his blade. In a flash, he made his way before Claude and tried to pierce his knife into Claude's upper left abdomen. That was a vital point which would take Claude's life if struck. There was no struggling against it. It appeared that the man was an experienced thug that probably took quite a number of lives before. Otherwise, his methods wouldn't be that ruthless.

Claude saw a puff of white smoke come his way and ducked to avoid it. He didn't catch it with his hand as he had a bad feeling about the bag. As expected, when the bag fell to the ground beside him, it let out a white smoke. Claude smelled it and thought, Damn! Isn't this lime powder? It's even the third-rate kind!

But his curses were short lived as the man who tossed the bag had appeared beside him with his knife piercing towards his ribs.

Claude ducked backwards quickly. Without a weapon in hand, he couldn't take on the armed thug in a close fight. That dagger-wielding man also seemed to be an experienced fighter. He hurriedly quickened his steps when he saw Claude retreat to maintain the distance so that his dagger would always remain a threat.

With him holding Claude back, the other thugs also snapped out of it and drew their own weapons to charge. "Kill him!" they cried.

The arbalest-wielding man was a tall and hugely built figure. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to hold something as huge as an arbalest. The moment he saw his two comrades entangled with Claude, he dropped his weapon and picked up a wood-chopping greataxe and joined the fray.

Claude was forced to retreat further and further. There were a few times when the knife of the thug passed him by a hair's breadth. He really wanted to block the knife so that he could launch a counterattack, but the knife user was careful and didn't commit fully to his stabs and swings, choosing instead to launch probing attacks. He seemed like he only wanted to land the slightest cut. Yet, that style of fighting was currently Claude's bane.

If only he had Energy Barrier... Claude recalled the time he was assaulted by the magus in the small forest. Energy Barrier nullified Claude's threat against the magus completely. Both his shortsword and crossbow bolt were useless against the magus. Had it not been for his fish bone dagger that happened to be a spellbane dagger, Claude's corpse might've rotted by now.

Though, Claude seemed to forget that Energy Barrier was a tier-one spell which he couldn't use even if he had it before he became a two-ring magus. Currently, Projectile Barrier was useless against melee weapons, which seemed rather weird in itself. Even though it could defend against powerful bolts and arrows, a simple knife swung with relatively less power could easily pass through the barrier.

All of a sudden, Claude suddenly fell backwards as if he was tripped. The three thugs behind the knife-wielding fellow were stunned. Claude was three meters away from the gates and the ground should be flat behind him. How, then, did he trip?

But the moment's hesitation became Claude's opportunity to strike back. The moment he fell backwards, he made some distance between him and the others. He launched two Magic Missiles into each of the chests of the ones at the front. They shook and groaned before falling with their hands on their wounds. They were already beyond saving.

The last greataxe-wielding man didn't think that the tables of the fight would suddenly change. He raised his axe up high and roared, but he wasn't sure whether to throw it or to charge with it. Claude didn't give him the time to decide though and used a Magic Missile to shut his mouth up for good.

It was finally over. He sat back up and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Chapter 144 - Robbery Complete

Claude got back up. He'd fallen back into the alley as a result of being forced back by the thug. Fortunately, that was the end of the alley and it was more spacious, giving him more space to duck around.

He really couldn't afford to underestimate anyone, not if even a common thug could push him so far. Had he not risked using Magic Missile while on the ground he might not have survived.

He wasn't a true battlemagus, after all, and only had a single true combat spell. While it could take care of the thugs without a problem, he didn't know how useful it could be against a real magus. He couldn't do much against the bearded magus that had attacked him in the small forest. He would have lost if the enemy had had combat spells of his own.

Claude would always reflect on his actions after every such occurrence. That was one advantage he had. It wasn't any different this time. He felt he was becoming too reliant on a single spell and thinking he was invincible against Blacksnake with it. So, he became too careless and even declared he would rob them.

Even if he used Projectile Barrier before challenging them, he shouldn't have dropped the handaxe when two ranged weapons were raised against him. He could've parried the close-range attacks had he not. Fortunately, the alley was wide enough to get out of the way.

Currently, all six Blacksnake thugs in the yard were beaten down, at least four of which were dead. Claude wondered why there wasn't any commotion from the ruckus, however. Not one person had popped their head out of a window to check. If something with up, he had to be careful.

He cast another Projectile Barrier on himself, and entered the yard. He made his quiet way to the tree with the Shark bodyguards. One was faking an injury. Claude gave him a light kick.

"Get up! I know you're fine. I'll make it so you don't have to fake it if you don't get up now."

The guard immediately sat up and kneeled.

"Lord Magus, please spare us. We are not with them. We are victims just like yourself. Just look at how they beat my face..."

Claude had to admit the man had not been spared blows. His eyes were only just barely still open, and he bled from numerous lacerations all over his scalp. He'd been surprised to see a Shark so badly beaten, but the young man's voice had revealed his inexperience.

Claude pointed at the six bodies in the yard.

"Find anything valuable on them."

The beaten-up guard didn't expect the magus was there to rob Blacksnake and didn't immediately react. Claude snorted an unresponsive second later, however, and the guard dashed off as best his aching body would let him.

Claude kept his distance and watched as the latter made his practiced way around the bodies. Lacking in combat experience or not, he was a superb pickpocket, Claude decided.

Unfortunately no skill in pickpocketing could take what wasn't there, and what there wasn't, was money. Between all of the bodies there were just a single riyas and four sunars in copper.

Claude shoved his chin in the direction of another nearby corpse, and soon it was searched as well. Even with the other corpses' money, however, he only had three thales.Claude motioned his chin to the other corpse. Soon, the other two injured and three dead thugs.

He sighed and glanced at another pair of recently deceased in a further corner.

"There. Two more."

"They're Sharks, Lord Magus. We're not your enemies," the guard said, surprised.

"True, but you're not my friends either. And it's not like they will need any of it. Get a move on! I can put you to sleep if you don't want to..."

"I-I'll search them," the guard answered quickly.

"I'll have you things as well. Didn't I say I was going to rob all of you? All of you."

The guard had to fight the urge to bang his head open against the ground, and finally believed the magus really was there to rob them.

The final two corpses and unwilling victim finally satisfied Claude somewhat. Blacksnake may be bigger, but Shark clearly had all the money. The victim alone had three thales and ten coppers. One would never have expected such riches to come from one wearing such meagre clothing.

"What are you looking at me for? Can't part with your money?"

"N-no... Lord Magus..."

Claude stashed his loot and smiled. He had 15 thales now. His mood much improved, he decided to spare his poor victim some consolation.

"Think of it like this. If I hadn't come to rob you, you would've been dead. All you've lost instead, is a couple thales. A cheap price for your life, no?"

The guard didn't answer, his face an awkward mask of obeisance. If that was how the thief-magus was going to soothe his conscience, so be it. Whatever got him out of there as quickly as possible.

"How many people are there in the house?" Claude asked.

"At least a dozen came, and at least a couple went in."

"T-there's their second-in-command, Fatbull Bowen, and his four guards... Jerad, Kesline, and Kefnie are inside as well, and one of my friends, Ablonk..."

So nine, Claude thought. Why did he hear nothing from inside then? He did sense breathing in the building, he might have thought nobody was home if he hadn't though. The entire house was pitch black as well. Bowen must have noticed the commotion and decided it was best to make things dark. They were probably waiting in ambush by the door.

"Does it have a backdoor?"

"No. No windows on the ground floor, either. There are two on the first floor, but it's six metres straight down through them."

"So this is the only way in?"

"Yes."

Claude raised his voice.

"The lights inside are all out. You think it'll be fine as long as you hide? With me doing the robbing, none of you can escape."

He pointed at the guard and then at the wooden door, motioning for him to open it.

The guard pointed at himself, stupefied.

Claude nodded sagely.

The man gulped, then headed for the door. He stepped over a Blacksnake corpse, then stopped and picked it up, dangling it in front of him.

Claude approved of his ingenuity and decided he was probably an okayish guy.

The door opened with a creak and the dead body was struck by several blows at once. The guard shoved the body into the black and rolled away from the door as quickly as he could. The corpse landed face-up, its forehead split, but no blood leaking from the wound. His chest had been split by four throwing axes, and three swords had also rooted themselves in his torso. Its left leg was completely severed and rolled around on its own.

The house was still pitch black inside, and the corpse was entirely swallowed by the darkness. Claude didn't need his eyes to know what was going on inside, however. He could sense the roughened breaths of the corpse's murderers and he could sense they'd relaxed some, thinking the corpse had been something else before their attacks.

Claude's finger pointed in the door's direction for a moment, then a flash of bright light dashed out of the top of it and shot into the house and illuminated the interior.

There aren't any useless spells, only useless magi.

In that moment, Claude couldn't agree more. A spell didn't have to kill to be deadly, one just had to know how to use it. Luminous Pearl, for example, sealed the bastards' in the building's fate merely by stripping them of the cloak of darkness, rather than doing any direct physical harm to them. The sudden presence of a miniature sun blinded the people inside for several moments, and it was just long enough for Claude to take action.

He darted in through the doorway and pumped Magic Missile after Magic Missile into everyone he saw. All-in-all he let go with five, felling one with each, leaving the house void of enemies. In fact, it left the house void of all signs of life. Where were the sisters and the boyfriend?

Claude turned around, and found them tied up in the room's further corner. They stared into the blinding light of the pearl, trying against the odds to catch a glimpse of what was going on in the room. They're eyes eventually fixed on him, filled with terror. A corpse lay in front of them, chest gouged open by knife cuts and axe strikes. It was probably the friend the guard had mentioned.

"You, come in and continue," Claude ordered.

The guard slid into the house, his eyes narrowed. Even for him the light was blinding.

The four guards were all as poor as the ones before. Fatbull Bowen was the only exception. And quite the exception at that. He had five crowns and ten more thales. The night was finally worth it.

Chapter 145 - Jerad's Thoughts

"Hey, over there."

Claude poked his chin to the three tied up in the corner of the room, making sure his minion didn't forget them, then put Fatbull's pouch away along with the rest of his loot.

The minion hesitated a moment then moved to his boss and company. Jerad stared at him furiously, but the minion just sighed.

"Boss, I am powerless to do anything about this..."

It wasn't that he didn't want to resist, the mysterious magus was just far too cruel for him to risk it. Apart from Bowen, which of the Blacksnakes in the house wasn't known for his combat abilities? Yet the magus beat them all with just a blink. This masked magus was there to rob, not save. He didn't care whether they were from Shark or Blacksnake.

The pig-faced guard tried to communicate his thoughts through his gaze to the tied-up Jerad, but the leader failed to notice and only glared at him angrily like he would a traitor.

The minion first took the money pouch from the corpse of his friend. He then reached into his sleeves and pants to make sure there was nothing else before reaching for Jerad. He found an expensive-looking goatskin pouch. Sparks could almost be seen in Jerad's eyes as he struggled against his ropes. He could only watch as the minion inspected him with his bloody hands.

The minion managed to find a few more copper coins on him. After he made sure there was nothing else, he turned to the two sisters. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to do them as well, but Claude stopped him.

"Forget the women."

The minion sighed relievedly and hurried to his master to hand over his loot. Claude noticed he was still hesitant about something, as if he wanted to do something he was forbidden to. He knew what he wanted when he noticed Kesline's breasts were pressed into quite an alluring shape by the ropes, but since he'd been quite obedient thus far, he decided not to get him for it.

"You did well. I'll leave everything else to you," Claude said plainly, tapping his temporary minion on his shoulder, and turning to leave.

The four he left behind stared at him as he left, unable to decide what to think about what had just happened. It all felt like a dream.

Jerad only snapped to nearly a minute after Claude had vanished.

"Are you going to untie me or not?!" he shouted at Claude's former minion.

The man jumped and got to work immediately.

In one corner of the room, strewn about haphazardly, Fatbull Bowen breathed weakly. He'd not died from the strike, and had even woken up somehow.

"Save... save me..." he groaned.

"Eh? He's not dead yet?" the pig-faced former minion asked, surprised.

He was pretty sure the man had been just a corpse when he'd searched him.

Jerad shrugged his ropes off finally, grabbed the nearest bladed item he could find, and cut his female companions loose. He only went over to Bowen once they were free.

"He's still salvageable. He's only got a hole in his stomach. His fat's taken most of the punch."

A hopeful light shone in the fat man's eyes. He raised his hand with all his strength, trying to tug on Jerad's clothes.

"S-save me... I will pay you back..."

But Jerad merely laughed before driving the dagger he'd picked up through the man's chest.

"Save you? In your dreams! I still have you pay you back for before!"

The former minion shrieked from the side.

"You... you killed him? Butcher Bill will go crazy!"

Jerad didn't so much as frown at the reminder as he retrieved the dagger.

"You think he would let us go even if we saved this shit? We'd all be dead if that magus hadn't showed up. They killed Ablonk right in front of us! We'd have been dead by sunrise. Even if we'd given them the taverns, they wouldn't have spared us."

He kicked the corpse further into the corner, smiling.

"I didn't think this magus would be Shark's guardian angel. He crippled Slanteye Kamadi last time, this time he's dealt with Fatbull Bowen for us. Bidlir will be fuming when he hears about this. He could still deal with Kamadi's loss since he was never really a part of Bidlir's inner circle, just a hired arm. But Bowen was his right-hand man. They go back years and Bidlir's practically raised the man. Losing him won't just badly hurt Blacksnake, or just Bidlir, it'll severely weaken his position in the gang as well.

"He can't do anything for now though, since he's stuck in the camp for training. On top of that, no one else in Blacksnake has either the sense or guts to take action to save the situation in his absence. We need to hit them now while they're in disarray and chase them out of town for good! This is a great chance for us, but if we don't take it, it'll be our end. If Bidlir comes back to a semi-intact Blacksnake, he'll wipe us out, especially since he'll have his new armed minions."

Jerad was not chosen to be the stand-in leader for no reason. He had a sharp head on his shoulders. Blacksnake had torn up the truce they'd made, and without the triad in Town Hall to keep a lid on their ambitions, no one could control them. He knew now was Shark's only chance to wipe them out and save themselves.

The men they'd lost with the convoy had wiped out most of their strength. They were much weaker than Blacksnake when the latter's command structure was intact. But they were much stronger man for man, so if Blacksnake was in disarray, they could still overpower them. If Blacksnake was allowed to recover from this, there would be no place in Whitestag for Shark. The best they could hope for was to be absorbed into it, though they'd have few prospects in the gang as former rivals. That would most likely not happen, however, not with Bidlir in control. The more likely outcome was for them all to be turned into fish bait as an example to anyone else that might have the impious thought of not obeying Blacksnake unconditionally.

The two gangs had a long and bloody history as rivals. Almost everyone in each gang had beaten up and been beaten up by someone from the other at least once in their life. The two hated one another with a passion, and Jerad knew this well. The blood on their hands made an absorption impossible.

Before tonight, he'd decided to negotiate with Bidlir for a peaceful end to their conflict. He was willing to disband Shark unconditionally if something bad had really happened to the convoy and taken their core members with it. His hopes of a peaceful resolution had been dashed when Bowen had burst into his home and started beating up him and his men.

He'd resigned himself to his fate after Ablonk was killed in front of him, but then the magus showed up. The thought sparked his flame again. Since they wanted to kill him, he'd gnaw on them until they got him, or, now, until they died! The heavens had gifted him this chance and so he'd taken it. With Bowen's death the gang would be in complete disarray. With Bidlir's absence, and his eroded position after Bowen's death, his lieutenants would not dare take action against Shark on their own. They'd also most likely start fighting amongst themselves over who'd get to replace their two dead generals.

Now was the time to hit them. If he could wipe out their leadership, the gang would either disperse or be in such a terrible condition he could run them right out of town.

With the keepers in town, however, he couldn't fight a full war, but he didn't want to. He was just going after their leadership. If he did things right, he could assassinate the lieutenants without triggering a response from the keepers.

"How are Benny and Clive?" Jerad asked, his mind settled.

"Benny's fine. He only suffered some external injuries and a strike to the back of the head. Clive has at least three broken ribs and a couple other serious injuries. We need to take him to the apothecary," the former minion replied.

"What about Blacksnake?"

"Two are still alive in the yard, or were when I searched them. Four more dead, and according to the magus six more are dead in the alley."

"Take a dagger with you and make sure."

"Yes."

The man darted off, shortsword in hand.

Jerad turned to the sisters.

"Kesline, bring me the concoction I gave you last time. I'll check on Benny and Clive. In the meantime, the two of you need to pack up. We can't stay here anymore. Let's go to Mermaid. Blacksnake won't come looking for us right in the heart of our territory."

Kesline tugged on his arm.

"What do we do about this place? This is our home! Are we really going to leave the corpses here like this?"

Jerad thought quietly for a couple moments, then hugged her, smiling.

"This is our home. We're only leaving for the time being. We'll come back once we've settled things. I'm sure you understand after what happened tonight. We're not the ones looking for a fight. Blacksnake will never let us go. We have to chase them out of town if we want to have peace.

"We'll take care of the corpses. We'll stay here until tomorrow and leave in the morning. With this many corpses it's bound to become news throughout the three prefectures. We'll take the corpses to the lake and dump them somewhere offshore. Nobody'll know where they went. It'll make Blacksnake suspicious and testy, but they shouldn't figure it out before we make our move."

Dumping corpses into the lake was a shared secret between the two gangs. It was the best way to get rid of unwanted leftovers. Fishermen found the bones on occasion, and it'd lead to a couple superstitions in town.

"Eww, gross. I'll swear off fish for good," Kesline answered.

"B-big Brother Jerad, t-that masked magus took our money... D-don't you hate him?" a pale-faced Kefnie asked.

Jerad smiled awkwardly. He really wondered how women's brains worked. They were definitely not the same as his. They'd just gone through so much, and were facing massive change in the coming days, and yet they were still preoccupied with their diet and lack of funds. They should have been anxious to get to Mermaid's safety, but instead they were concerned over the building they would be leaving behind. Why did women always bother with the pointless things?

"I don't really hate him. He did save us, after all. I couldn't have hired someone to take care of them for the money he took. If anything, I should be thankful. He came out on the losing end of the exchange, really. And after we take care of Blacksnake, we'll have more money. I might actually decide to give him some more if I run into him again. I'd be more than willing to pay well so he'll save us again," Jerad answered.

Chapter 146 - Auction

Claude woke up early the next morning and got ready to head to the market to buy two boxes of whiteroot powder. He would go to Big Hammer thereafter to buy some metals. Landes' notes had a full set of instructions for the casting of a musket barrel and it used normal metal, so Claude figured it wouldn't cost too much.

He had his excuse ready as well. He would tell them he wanted to make a couple iron jaws for his hunting. If they asked why he didn't just buy a set from a blacksmith, he'd tell them he wanted to have a go at it himself.

It had taken several tries, but he'd finally gotten enough money the previous night to be satisfied. Everyone in Blacksnake was a pauper, but their general, Bowen, was loaded.

He thought back to the drop rates in the online games of earth, and thought they made much more sense now than he had before. He should have listened to their logic from the beginning. He'd have spared himself a lot of effort and frustration if he'd just gone for their bosses from the get-go, rather than mucking about with the small fry.

The story was the same for Shark. While its small fry were better off compared to Blacksnake's, they still couldn't compare to the loot he got from Jerad.

All-in-all, Claude now had 16 crowns. He couldn't make that much from hunting even if he scored every day for a month. That said, while the loot was much greater, he could do this maybe a couple times at best before he'd exhausted the supply of generals and lieutenants.

Claude had a hard time with the apothecary. He haggled with him for an hour but only managed to get the price for the two boxes of whiteroot powder down to seven crowns. In the end he won only a single thale. The man was a shrewd bastard who knew his clientele far too well for his own good. He knew about Claude's hunting escapades and how much money he'd made from it, so he wouldn't fall for any sob stories.

The man, for his part, was a merchant to the core, however, and knew how to console his prey when they needed it. He asked after Claude's efforts in learning herbal medicine, and Claude told him his prepared schtick about all his concoctions failing. It was accompanied by the appropriate selection of dejected expressions.

The man laughed and consoled him with the thought that the study of herbal medicine was not for the faint of heart, or lackers of patience and perseverance. He had to bang his head on the wall before he could break it down, and unfortunately herbal medicine's wall was quite thick. If he kept at it, however, it would eventually crumble.

His face lost its conciliatory air the moment Claude left, however.

"What a failure of a boy. If I were his father I'd have stopped him wasting so much money after this many failures. If he can't make a simple potion after using this much material, he'll never do it."

Claude continued on to Big Hammer, blissfully unaware of the horrid reputation he'd just gained with the apothecary. Mike was his usual polite self, but, like the apothecary, wouldn't budge on his prices. His reason wasn't so much that he knew about Claude's wealth as that he wouldn't budge on the price for such small quantities of metal. Part of it was also that he didn't have to consider Claude's father anymore.

Claude told him about the clamps he was supposedly trying to make, but Mike didn't show any interest. Ever the salesman, however, Mike didn't fail to ask if Claude needed any tools, but Claude didn't bite.

He mounted the carriage again, pointed Jemmy back to the mansion, and started for his parents' house. Along the way, however, he noticed every person that recognised him was murmuring something, just like the day his father had been arrested. He was not going to be ignorant until someone told him this time, so he rushed home and found a large stall outside his parents' house. The family's belongings were piled beside it on the sidewalk and a crowd was bidding on selected items.

When he finally forced his way through the crowd, ready to punch whoever had the gall to sell of his family's things, he found the man running the auction was his father. Claude's fury abated some, until he noticed even Bloweyk's new toys were up for sale.

"What's going on, father?" Claude bellowed from the crowd.

His father glanced in his direction for only a moment, then ignored him and continued to haggle with a potential customer. The man was haggling over one of his favourite statues, a crystal statue of a woman bathing. It was an antique always admired by the family's visitors.

Claude wondered if something had happened to force his father to sell of all the family's belongings. He tried to get an answer out of his father a couple more times, but his father ignored him. He gave up and looked through the things up for sale. Among the books from the study, he found Landes' diary. His heart almost stopped and he snatched it up. That was a bomb waiting to explode out here in the crowd where anyone could look it through, so he took it inside.

The family apartment was completely empty. The paintings, furniture, everything worth something had been removed. The rooms weren't bare, though. The expensive furniture was gone, but in their place stood cheap, weak-wood things.

His mother was cooking lunch as she always did, but her face was not the usual picture of a content housewife. Instead her face was contorted in a perpetual scowl. When Claude looked at the kitchen cupboard where the house silver was, he realised why; it was gone. In their place stood a bowl with simple wooden wares. They didn't even have the cheap glassware anymore.

"What happened? Why's Father auctioning off our stuff? We're not that poor yet, are we?" Claude asked.

His father may no longer be the town secretary, but he was still well-respected in town. And he may no longer have his salary, but he still had a substantial income from the mansion's rent and the shares he owned in at least half the businesses in town. Even without his standing, he was still one of the richest men in town.

"Your father's selling everything to pool his money."

"Pool his money? For what? How much does he need?"

"He needs 300 crowns. Go ask him yourself. He won't listen to me no matter what I say or do."

"Is he going to start a business?"

Claude had thought he might be able to help out a little, but he could not come up with three hundred crowns. His mother shook her head without a word.

"Where's Blowk and Anna?" Claude asked.

Maybe his sister knew a little more.

"Blowk cried when your father took the toys you bought for him, so Anna took him upstairs. They should be in their room."

Her hands never stopped working the pot in front of her, and the smell made Claude's mouth water.

"What are you making? It smells good."

"Cow bone soup. I added some carrots, apples, and potatoes. It'll have to do for lunch, the only other thing we have is bread."

Claude looked at the pan to which his mother pointed, and saw blackwheat bread cooling on on it. He'd not seen his mother make blackwheat bread ever before. In fact, they'd never eaten blackwheat bread in the house in all his life. His mother had also never baked the bread herself. They always had white flour based bread delivered by the local baker, and they usually had mutton or beef, not cow bones.

He'd never thought he'd ever see the day his family would eat a poor man's soup and blackwheat bread.

"I'll go check on Blowk and Anna," he said finally, unwilling to comment on the food.

"Bring them down for dinner in about ten minutes."

"Okay."

Angelina was playing a tangram puzzle with Blowk. The snowhound was perched nearby and would occasionally push the puzzle pieces with its paws. Seeing Claude enter, the two and the snowhound were filled with excitement. They only calmed down only after a while.

"Claude, what are you holding?" his sister asked.

Claude only just realized that he was still holding the cookbook. "This is the cookbook I bought for mom a while back as her birthday present. I saw that Father was going to auction it off, so I took it back."

"Daddy's mean. He didn't want to play with me and even took my toys to sell," Bloweyk complained.

Claude smiled bitterly. His brother was only eight and wouldn't understand that his father was trying to gather funds instead of playing auction downstairs.

"Anna, mom said dad's trying to pool his money by auctioning off our stuff . Do you know why he needs the money?"

Angelina nodded as expected. "Last week during the night on Wednesday, dad's friends came over and discussed something about pensions and reimbursement. I heard they need to gather around two thousand crowns. They talked until late night and I heard dad was told to pay 280 crowns.

"He left early and came home late every day after that. The night before yesterday, he got into a huge argument with Big Brother. Big Brother said the pension had nothing to do with us since the dead were lowly peasants anyway. He also said that since they surrendered to pirates, we don't have to pay the money. If they come to cause trouble, we can just get the constables to catch them by accusing them as the spies of pirates.

"Dad got really mad and slapped him in the face hard. Big Brother left and hasn't come home since. I heard dad tell mom last night he sold off his shares in all the businesses and gathered most of the money. He says if we auction off all our stuff the town will see we're doing our best to pay all the pensions so they won't hate us as much for what happened to the convoy."

The news Angelina told him was too overwhelming. He finally realized that his father was doing all that for the pension for the families who lost people to the convoy's demise. It was something they were owed. After all, the three hundred or so sailors were locals. They had joined for the pay, but they couldn't return and receive it, so the families were due compensation. Claude finally understood why his father was also selling off all their stuff. It wouldn't matter if he had a lot of expensive and luxurious stuff in his house if the families were so angry that they came for him and his family. Living poorly in the mansion that could give them rent, in the town where he had connections and could rebuild his life, was better than having to run to a new place where he would have no foot in the door and start all over.

Chapter 147 - Father-and-Son Talk

"Do you understand why I did it?" Morssen asked, watching the busy stall from his study window.

After having lunch, he asked Claude to follow him upstairs, intent on having a talk. Perhaps he wanted to know what his son thought.

The study was empty, as expected. Anything that could be sold had been taken downstairs. Only a thick desk, a cruddy old chair, and an old beastskin couch were left. Claude suspected that, had the chair and couch's furs not been damaged by exposure to sunlight, his father would have sold them as well. As for the desk, it was too heavy for his father to move alone.

Claude nodded a shrug.

"I kind of understand, but I think you're going too far."

His father turned from the window and walked to his desk. He took out the silver box in which he kept his tobacco leaves, and his ivory pipe, and stuffed it with a pinch of dried leaves. He could part with everything in the house, but those two things he could not let go.

"I'm glad you understand. It shows you have a far sharper mind than your brother and better foresight." His father nodded and lit the tobacco in his pipe, puffing a couple times. "Arbeit never understood one thing. I've been released without charges and only fired, but it doesn't mean everything is over. The bad luck still hasn't left our family.

"The convoy's misfortune took with it all my investments. I was too optimistic, blinded by the money I could make, and ignored the risks. It's bad enough I've lost everything, but I've ruined Thomas and the rest's lives as well. If I'd turned in my discovery from the start I might be a noble now. Instead... look at me."

Claude's father puffed on his pipe bitterly. Claude didn't know what he should say, nor how to console his father. The man's brooding soon faded, however, replaced by a bitter smile.

"It's too late to talk about that now though. Regret has no cure. Just learn from my mistake. Don't be greedy."

Claude nodded.

"It's not that we don't have any money. But I did bet most of my life's savings on the convoy. Three hundred and fifty crowns out of my pocket and another 150 in a loan from the bank."

Claude gasped. He'd never imagined his father, a mere low-level bureaucrat, could have amassed such a fortune. No doubt his title must have come with many... unofficial benefits.

His father shook his head.

"I've not taken a single penny in bribes in all my years as town secretary. I've earned every fenny honestly."

"I wasn't thinking that at all." Claude let out cold sweat.

Morssen took another sighing puff.

"Arbeit always thought he would inherit those shares. He didn't think the shares would become a dagger once I lost my position. I don't want any trouble, so I've sold it all. Got about 400 crowns out of it. It'll help me pay back the loan."

Claude didn't know why his father was discussing all this with him rather than his older brother. He was not the principle heir of the family, after all.

"The 2nd month is half past us now. News of what happened to the convoy should be released officially at the end of the month. We'll have to face another storm when that happens. I doubt no one in town will want revenge for what happened to the men in their family that joined the expedition.

"Baroness Maria mentioned it in her letter. I'm sure she's told you as well. The king's decided to tell the world what happened. If we don't handle this properly, our family will never have a home in Whitestag again."

Why was his father still so fixated on the family's reputation? Then again, unlike so many, he was actually facing the music of his failures.

"Arbeit doesn't understand how dangerous the situation is. He thinks all of this has nothing to do with us, especially not as far as finances are concerned. He wants to just ignore our responsibilities to the families, to not pay the pensions we owe."

His father grimaced.

"He's lost that intelligence I so admired in him, it seems. He'd been fighting my choices with regards to the family's finances every step of the way without thinking about whether I'd be able to hold onto them if the town came after me. I might if not for Baron Robert. He's always seen the three of use as a thorn in his side. He'll fan the flames until we're all burnt to a crisp.

"He's wanted to be rid of us for years, he'd not going to give up the opportunity to do us in for good. He'll no doubt try and strip us clean."

"So selling everything we own is your self-preservation?"

"Self preservation..." His father thought silently for a moment, then nodded bitterly. "Yes. You don't know half of it. Without my position, my words no longer hold weight. Even though people still address me politely and respectfully, they're actually mocking me secretly. If I were still the chief secretary, those shares of mine could be sold for some 700 crowns, but I only got around 400 for them, and that's thanks to them taking our past relationship into account and not giving me any trouble. Looks like my sweet words to them over the years haven't been wasted.

"What comes next for our family will be another period of hardship. We're not just doing this for show. We really have to show that we've done all we can to help the ones who lost their family members and ended up living such difficult lives ourselves. That would mean that all we're left with is this mansion of ours. We'll have to rely on the rent provided by the house your grandfather left us to survive.

"Leaving a good reputation for ourselves in town will make Baron Robert more wary. And given that our household has fallen so low, he wouldn't need to trouble himself with us either. Only after the whole matter with the trading fleet passes can we have a chance of rising from the ashes.

"If the king decides to expand on the new sailing route, we will gather funds one more time to buy a merchant vessel to once more sail to Nubissia to trade. Perhaps I might join the voyage and eventually become one of the biggest maritime traders between the two continents."

Claude smiled. It was fine as long as his father hadn't given up on fighting. He was most worried that his father would be depressed from losing his position and become a chronic alcoholic like his grandfather. It looked like his worry was for naught. His father was still alert and aware and knew what he should and shouldn't do. He still had plans and confidence for the future.

"Oh, by the way, I've called you here to discuss your future with you." Morssen finally recalled what he called his son for in the first place.

"I'm sorry, son. It looks like the plan for you to go to the Tyrrsim colony is for naught," Morssen said after a long moment's pause.

Claude was relieved and wondered why his father was so hesitant about it. Whether he could go to Nubissia to join the unit of a godfather he hadn't even met was something he put behind him long ago. The moment the incident that happened with the trading fleet came to light, he knew that he wouldn't be able to go. The new route was occupied by pirates and before the kingdom cleared them out, there would be no way for Claude to board a ship there.

"It's fine, Father. I don't really mind that. For now, I'm quite happy with working at the wood. I'm not looking forward to enlist," Claude said honestly.

Morssen shook his head. "That's not what I'm worried about. You're already an adult and you're registered as a peasant. While you may be able to avoid forced conscription for the military given your status as supervisor of Normanley Wood, given that you're the number-one graduate in your school's physical stream, you'll end up receiving an order to enlist. You won't be able to avoid it."

Physical stream students like Claude were the best candidates for enlistment into the military, not to mention the grades with which he graduated. In a time of line musket formations, students like Claude were the prime candidates for low-ranking officers. They were also the type of officers that suffered the most casualties in a war. Even Maria wouldn't be able to protect him from enlistment.

"We'll see when the time comes. We can't be sure when the order to enlist will come and I'm sure there's some way we can go about it. And even if I'm enlisted, that doesn't necessarily mean I'll be posted to the battlefield. And even if that's the case, that doesn't mean my luck will necessarily be bad." That was the best he could come up with to console his father.

Morssen glared at Claude solemnly and seemed a little angry. "You definitely didn't read the letter Lady Maria wrote you. Didn't you notice that His Majesty still hasn't decided on which proposal to choose? If the original plan is kept, you will be enlisted directly in half a year. I hope that the king chooses to work on the new sailing route instead. That way, the enlistment drive will commence a year later. That means that you'll only have one year to take the test to become a certified herbalist to avoid becoming cannon fodder on the frontlines!"

It was Claude's turn to smile awkwardly. Could he really become a low-ranked herbalist in one year's time? He wasn't confident in doing so, unless he stopped training in magic and working on his experiments and instead focused all his energy in learning herbalism under intense guidance by someone in the field. Perhaps, then, he would have a decent chance in succeeding.

"I understand, Father. I'll work hard on my studies when I go back," Claude said.

Chapter 148 - The Nightmare Comes

Claude couldn't keep bothering with his family's affairs, so he stopped.

His father was still the same cunning man he'd always been. Even after the convoy's horrible end and the loss of every bit of money he'd ever made, he was still hatching his schemes. It put Claude's mind at ease.

He was just a normal person who somehow transmigrated into this parallel world. He didn't have an omnipresent grandpa senior that followed him everywhere, nor did he have a special hack or system. He couldn't game the world. All he'd got, which was nothing extraordinary in this world, it turned out, was some talent for magic.

That didn't mean he acted like the run-of-the-mill Gary Stu defeating one monster after another, pick up precious treasures and equipment only to be waited on by countless servants grovelling to present him with girls and super technique manuals, eventually ending up defeating the world's greatest evils and becoming the ultimate existence in the world. He was just a one-ring rune magus, a guy with a nice little gimmick.

He'd never thought of himself as a genius and didn't think he was smarter than others by much. He had crossed worlds, but his experiences and knowledge didn't help him much. Instead, he had relied on nothing but his shockingly calm personality to live through one perilous encounter after another.

The adage 'personality determines fate' couldn't be more true, he'd decided. He only wanted to live a life of peace as Claude in this world and perhaps travel around and do some exploring. He wasn't much smarter than the people of this world. He had to mingle and not stand out. He'd warned himself about it time and again. Real life did not have face-slapping protagonists. His one edge over others was a maturity and awareness of his surroundings well beyond his years.

He was also no more than a peasant, however. He was a non-successionary child of a disgraced small-time dignitarian bureaucrat on the edge of a not too impressive kingdom. And his only way to greener pastures was his connection to the noble, Maria. If he did his job properly and thoroughly for several years he might just get a leg up in life, a boost in social status to dignitarian, and actually make something of himself, though that something would still be insignificant in the grander scheme of things.

He'd no time to bother with the politics of his father's schemes. He'd wanted to take his little brother and sister with him as well to spare them that fate, but his parents would not let him. For all his father's scheming, at least he only had the best in mind for his family and children. His encouragement that Claude do his best in his studies was one bit of proof to that end. While Claude appreciated his father's concern, he didn't think it was possible for him to so quickly become a certified apothecary, even if only one of the most rudimentary qualification.

Besides, his mistress had told him he wouldn't get far with memorisation; he needed practical experience, and he was not going to get that in Whitestag, not with the reputation his family had in town now.

His attention was also too focused on magic to really bother with herbal medicine. It was his greatest disagreement with his mistress. She felt magic was only good, and worth studying, in as far as it furthered her study of herbal medicine, while he felt the reverse was true, herbal medicine was only worth something as a stepping stone into the proper study of magic and alchemy.

The following couple of days were spent exclusively on the estate. Besides trapping, the only thing Claude did was work on his barrels and continue his study of magic.

When he finally successfully copied Landes' barrel design, he found the barrel was still inferior to the Aubass. He tried the barrel again with his best powder and rounds, but it cracked after only a couple shots.

It seemed Freia's arms technology hadn't stood as still for the last couple centuries as he'd thought. They'd significantly improved the quality of metal they could make, at the very least. If only they'd made their techniques and recipes public so he could replicate it, but alas...

He continued his work nevertheless and a week later had two barrels of satisfactory quality, though they were still inferior to Aubass barrels. He then moved on to the other parts, such as the flintlock, none of which were a problem for him.

He was ready for his first proper test-firing of his home-made flintlock by the end of the month. Siori stopped by that very afternoon with news from town. The convoy's end had been made official, co-signed by the navy and several survivors, all due back home in a couple of days, and the town was in an uproar. Half the town was camped out in the town square in front of Town Hall, waiting for more news, and everyone else was in mourning.

It had finally come, Claude sighed. He had no desire to go to town for the foreseeable future now, and luckily no need as of yet. He'd resigned himself to being an observer where his family was concerned as well. His father would have had plans in place in case something bad happened, so he'd be of little use if something did indeed happen.

He couldn't avoid Eriksson, however. He had to go face him. The boy was on the brink of being fully recovered, and Claude feared this might shove him back to scratch if he took it particularly badly.

He still had work to do, however, so he sunk his time into it. He tested the new musket a couple days later, and it wasn't exactly a complete success. He supposed he should have expected as much given his extremely limited, and shallow, knowledge of firearms. He knew little to nothing about firearm production. But didn't expect the musket to be as unreliable as it was. It failed six shots out of every ten pulls of the trigger. He'd also failed at the proper design for the firing pan, and so the powder didn't always light every time. To install sights for a more accurate shot, Claude moved the flintlock mechanism and the flash pan to the right side of the gun barrel diagonally like the design of a French antique flintlock he saw before. It looked like adjustments were necessary.

The loose locking jaw on the other hand was probably due to materials that were too soft. Ideally, he required some steel with elasticity. That also required Claude to slowly experiment away to find the ideal combination. Additionally, the materials used to make the barrel meant that the gun could only fire around two hundred meters away, with an effective kill range of 120. The only advantage it held over the conventional matchlock was that it was easier to aim with it, making its overall accuracy higher.

However, due to the state of affairs in the town, Claude wasn't in the mood to make improvements to his flintlock just yet. He put it aside and chose to go home. If the situation was bad, he would bring his mother and younger siblings to the wood to prevent them from being embroiled in the situation.

He drove his carriage back home and found that it was fine. Relieved, he greeted his mother and was told that his father had rushed to the town hall during the afternoon to give a touching speech to the crowd.

Morssen said that after he and his associates were arrested for charges of threatening national security, he had a feeling that something happened to the trading fleet. That was why the investors of the fleet, him included, were arrested. However, he didn't have details about the trading fleet's situation and could do nothing but pray.

But ever since he was released from custody and returned home, he found himself unable to sleep and worrying over the trading fleet and held a bad omen in his mind. That was the reason he spent his recent days selling his shares away to prepare for the coming nightmare. He didn't want to escape, but instead bear the burden together with his associates to provide necessary aid to the family members of the sailors.

According to the surviving sailors' testimonies who were forced to surrender to the pirates, around seventy men out of the three hundred plus perished in battle with the pirates. Captain Altroni and five others were ditched on an uninhabited island because they were unwilling to switch sides. The rest of the two hundred plus were split among the pirates and absorbed into their ranks.

However, those survivors hadn't returned to Whitestag and nobody could be certain who was alive or dead. In that sense, Morssen only had to help the families of those 70 sacrificed sailors as the others who surrendered no longer had anything to do with the trading fleet.

But Morssen announced regardless that he would compensate the families according to the initial fleet's roster. Each household would gain eight crowns as recompense, which was worth a sailor's salary of three years. As for the sailors who were affirmed dead, their families would receive fifteen crowns of pension, which would be enough for their family to live comfortably for more than five years.

After Morssen's announcement, happy cheers could be heard all over the town hall. Almost everyone praised Morssen and the other investors for their benevolence. As family members of sailors, they were aware that sailing out to sea always carried the risk of losing one's life. They had been prepared mentally for that reality. It was a job that required one to put their lives on the line.

Usually, the compensation for each dead sailor was worth only a year of his salary, which was about three crowns. Yet, Morssen had almost tripled the compensation, and that didn't include the pension, which was five times the amount of the salary a sailor would earn in a year. That helped the family members forget much about their grief. For all they knew, their family members could still be alive somewhere and might one day live to escape the pirates and return.

Claude's father had perfectly controlled the whole situation. Not only did he not earn the hatred of the family of the sailors, his reputation even gained a huge boost. Claude had really worried for nothing. He did, however, ask his mother whether there was a need for his younger siblings to live with him at the wood after all. As expected, she refused the offer and believed that the tough days would soon behind them. There would be no need for them to move.

Chapter 149 - Modification and Rumours

Since there was nothing troubling, Claude returned to the estate to spend the rest of his days. He patrolled the place, trained in magic, and researched flintlocks.

He was only unhappy that he was refused entry by Eriksson when he went to pay him a visit one afternoon. He wasn't even allowed in. Madam Eilina didn't apologize either. She merely looked at him coldly as if she didn't recognize him.

It was apparent they had found out about the nightmarish pirate attack and knew Captain Altroni had been left on an uninhabited island. Unlike the other sailors' families, however, Eriksson and his mother pushed their anger on Claude's father and the other investors. They were the root cause of the captain's untimely fate as far as the two were concerned.

Claude could only return home moodily. He understood the two's feelings, but he was unable to forgive them for venting on him. Captain Altroni had also been an investor.

Welikro came to visit him later and told him he was at Eriksson's because he wanted to console him after hearing about the news. He was still unhappy when Claude went there, but Welikro didn't think he'd actually stop Claude from going in.

He did say Claude got off light. When his father and the others went there to deliver the family's share of the compensation, Eriksson chased them away shouting about them murdering his father all the way. His mother even threw the money out of the window.

Claude could do nothing but sulk. He didn't think he'd lose a good friend because of bad luck. Eriksson had always admired his father and had wanted to become like him. Nobody expected him to push the blame for his father's misfortune onto his good friend.

He supposed the boy's behaviour was mostly because he worshipped his father an unhealthy amount and it kept him from acting like an adult. If he couldn't be mature about it, then he might not be such a good friend after all, though Claude was still sad to have such a good friendship end so unfairly.

Spring came quickly, though, and with its arrival Claude's hunting came to an end. He couldn't think of anything fun to do with Welikro, his remaining friend, so he showed him his new musket. The boy didn't ask where he'd gotten the parts, especially the barrel. He just tested the weapon, then asked what the point was to replacing the slow match. It didn't give the weapon any obvious advantages, and in its current state even worsened its reliability.

He did have good things to say about Claude's decision to put the sights on the barrel rather than the cock, thinking that the flash pan ought to be moved to the side of the gun for the sights to be installed on the top so that it would make more sense for aiming. Claude couldn't possibly tell his friend that, inferior as it was, the flintlock unlocked future developments that lead to breech-loading rifles and eventually 'modern' firearms, while the matchlock was a dead-end, so he didn't know what more to say.

He gave up on his proselytising, and instead decided to agree to Welikro request to help him modify his old Gally by moving the serpentine and flash pan to the side to leave space in the middle for the front and rear sights. It didn't hurt that the boy had offered to pay for the modifications. The moment Claude accepted, the boy dashed him like a little boy who'd just got a present to get the musket.

Claude turned his attention to how he could retrofit the Sioris' charcoal kiln into a small smithy. He had to at least have a reasonable explanation for how he worked the iron.

Welikro left the moment he handed the musket to Claude, however, making all his worries void, promising to be back for it in a couple days. Claude found a crown on the table in the wake of his friend's departure as well, certain the boy was afraid he'd refuse payment if it was offered to his face.

Claude had been intent on giving the work a decent whack from the start, but now he was more determined to do an actually decent job, so he was careful when he got to work. He took the old musket apart carefully and got to work reforging the trumpet barrel into the more sleek, modern design.

He had to be careful to preserve the serial number, however, as the weapon was registered and it could cause his friend's entire family serious trouble if the serial number vanished. The work wasn't hard for him, however, thanks to his magical touch, so it only took him three days of casual work to finish.

By the time he was done, the musket was completely unrecognisable. Claude had even changed out the non-metal parts such as the stock. He wasn't happy to see the flash pan and cock so far to the side, however, it fought against his 'modern' sense of firearm aesthetics, but he couldn't do much about that.

His tests with the remade weapon proved his friend's observations regarding reliability. It was certain more effective a firearm than his flintlock musket. He was set on using a flintlock however, if for no other reason than it made him feel more advanced for being on the right track.

Five days passed quickly and Welikro returned for his musket. Claude was unwilling to see the thing go, but he knew better than to be petty and handed it over without a fuss. Welikro couldn't wait to give it a test firing for himself, so the two decided to head out to the wood and take a couple shots. Claude realised his rounds and powder were running out when he went to fetch them, however, so they detoured to town to buy some more.

Welikro still wanted to go to Wakri's. It was slightly more expensive, but the powder and rounds were of overall better quality, so that's where they went.

Claude felt something amiss when they passed through Old Street, however. The people seemed anxious and hurried. A couple large men stopped the carriage soon after. They didn't say anything, however, merely checking the carriage for any other passengers, then leaving.

"What's going on?" Claude asked.

"Don't you know?" Welikro asked in return, "Oh right! You've been cooped up on the estate the whole time. It's nothing concerning us. Shark and Blacksnake have been having a grand old gang war again, that's all."

"Gang war?"

The scene of Jerad and the two girls tied up in the house flitted across his mind. Perhaps that had finally been enough to push Jerad into open war with Blacksnake.

"Where did they get the guts? Didn't something happen to the convoy? They lost all their elites. Not to mention that the town's still under martial law and Butcher Bill is in the garrison. Aren't they afraid he'll march into the slums with his goons and shoot them all?"

"I'm not too sure why, but Blacksnake lost horribly during the first big fight. They're completely helpless. It might be because Fatbull Bowen is missing. They don't have a single strong figure in overall command, and the lieutenants are all fighting among each other over who will fill Bowen's shoes now he's gone. Blacksnake's all but done for. They've given up all their territory and scattered to the wind.

"Shark were real clever. They didn't confront them in the streets in a single big fight. They sent teams in from all directions and picked Blacksnake apart bit by bit over a couple days. If the groups are stopped by the patrols they just say they're looking for someone like they did with the carriage just now. Many of the lieutenants have vanished in the last week, and nobody's seen them, but most of the town have some idea where they are."

Welikro's eyes darted to Lake Balinga for a moment involuntarily.

"On the lake?"

"Beneath it."

Chapter 150 - In Debt

Shark and Blacksnake's affairs were none of his business, Claude decided. It would be best for everyone if they wiped one another out completely.

His father's plans were also bearing fruit. Much of the damage from the convoy's loss, their arrests, and their dismissals had been undone by their efforts with the compensation and they were about where they'd been before the whole incident, thought without jobs now.

The navy's supply and survey ships arrived in the lake on the 12th of the 3rd month, sent by the king to investigate what was going on in town. The two ships docked near the slums, met by quite the crowd. The officers went straight to town hall, their aids labouring under thick stacks of documents. They were apparently going to stay for a while.

The mayor was relieved when he heard they weren't there to relieve him, and agreed to take care of their needs, though he knew nothing about what they were really there to do. They only told him they weren't there for his head, and that the king was sending more ships after them.

The smaller of the two ships spent most of the following two days sailing back and forth across the lake, dropping measures every now and again to test the lake's depth. Teams also surveyed the shore. The crew of the other ship sent two tents of army men ashore, who set up an outpost near the docks.

The new garrison finished their training a couple days later and were officially commissioned, signifying the handover of town control from the keepers back into local hands and an official end to the state of martial law.

The plaza was decorated in celebratory colours that afternoon while the ceremony took place. The 224 men of the garrison were paraded in dark-blue with a white feather in their caps. Their shirts were dark blue, almost navy, while their pants' blue was broken by white strips. Their boots were the jet black of new, freshly polished footwear, and matched the black inking on their muskets' stocks, all Kemley Mark 3s.

Claude didn't attend. Welikro joined him at the estate as well and the two had a shooting contest. Claude had not lost interest in his old friend, Eriksson, despite the termination of their relations, and Welikro had recently taken up playing messenger and intermediary between the two parties, and today was brief day on Claude's side.

"Eriksson's family no longer owns the pier," Welikro started.

It turned out Captain Altroni had made a loan with the deed to his pier as security to finance some of his expenses for the journey. Without his return, the loan was not repaid, and the holder had finally come to claim either the pier or the loan's repayment. Eriksson and co. definitely couldn't pay the loan, so the pier no longer belonged to them.

Eriksson's mother had nearly burst a vein when the deed was taken since the pier was worth at least 200 crowns, not the meer 150 owed on the loan.

"Couldn't she have made a second loan on the pier with the bank to pay the first?" Claude asked.

"They didn't have enough time. It would have taken at least a fortnight to get a new loan from the bank. The loan Eriksson's father had taken was high interest, and it only got worse if the due date passed without payment. By the time they got the loan, the interest on the old one would have made it more expensive than the loan they would have been able to get on the pier."

The family had thus lost their last lifeline to an income until Eriksson fully recovered and could get a job. They'd been relying on income generated from renting out the dock space around the pier until now, but with it gone, they had no income.

Claude could offer to help, though he didn't know what exactly he could do, but he knew Eriksson would not even let him into the yard. For better and worse, the boy was a stubborn bastard, even more so when it came to who he decided to hate.

"Anything else?" he asked, hoping to move the conversation away from the sensitive topic.

"Nothing else," Welikro answered, "The gang war's over. With the navy having taken control over the docks, there's little left for the two gangs to fight over. Not to mention that with Butcher Bill now free to walk the streets, they can't match Blacksnake in an open fight.--

"--Oh, that reminds me. I ran into Kefnie when I was fishing a couple days ago. She's now Mermaid's cashier. She's been asking after you, you know. She wants you to bring your catches around to Mermaid next time you go to town. She says she'll pay a good price."

"See? This is the benefit of education," Claude said, "If Kefnie didn't go to school, she would just be a barmaid like her sister. Instead, because she's got a proper education, she's practically the inn's manager."

Welikro was speechless. He thought Claude was supposed to like her. Why was all he was going on about education when she was brought up? Was he secretly an invalid? He sighed, downed his last cup of blackwheat ale, and left.

Another week passed quickly, and a letter arrived from Borkal. He'd become a keeper in Banjilia, Simlock's capital. He lamented the training for two whole pages, and Claude was almost at his patience's end by the time he finally finished reading the diatribe.

He'd been spared a combat posting, however, and had instead been put in the armory. He wasn't an outright officer; he might be promoted in two or three years if he played his cards right and take over the armory entirely.

The boy really had a wild imagination. He should learn to do his job properly first before concocting schemes for grand ambitions, Claude thought. The last page in his substantial letter was dedicated to what had happened in Whitestag with the convoy, much to Claude's surprise. He'd not expected news to travel so far so quickly.

Shocked as the boy said he was, he was mostly concerned for his friends. He added a return address and wished they would write him regularly.

Claude smiled bitterly. He didn't know if Eriksson would write to Borkal. His father was one of the masterminds behind the expedition as well, after all. He suspected he'd just tear the letter up and toss it in the fireplace. The four friends were now truly broken up. Their friendship hadn't just fizzled, either, it'd become one of hatred, at least as far as Eriksson was concerned. Claude took the time to write a proper reply, warning Borkal not to expect anything from Eriksson and explaining why, then got back to his isolated life on the estate.

Angelina came around the next day for the first time.

"What's going on?" Claude asked, the traces of tears on his little sister's face striking him long before her red dishevelled hair did.

"C-claude... You have to g-go home quick... People came to the house... They're really angry and are carrying guns... They want dad to pay... Dad was really angry and argued with them and said he didn't owe them anything... They took out a piece of paper and dad's face turned white... He said it shouldn't be possible and wanted to go looking for someone, but they wouldn't let him go... They said he can't leave the house until he's paid them."

Claude was confused. Hadn't his father paid back everything he'd owed? Why were people still demanding money from him?

He wasn't too worried about confronting whoever were making trouble for his family, though he had to be careful about their backgrounds. Not just anyone was allowed to carry a musket in public, after all, especially not in groups and especially not when barging into someone else's house. He didn't think they'd do anything to his father, though; his efforts had repaired most of his reputation, after all, so it would cause a massive uproar if something happened to him.

"How did you come? Did you run here?"

"No, I took a carriage. You have to go quick, they're really scary!" his sister insisted, her mind stuck on getting him to the house in her panic.

"Don't worry, they're not as scary as I can be."

The two took Jemmy and the carriage to his parents' house, but they arrived at an empty house, the people already gone.

"What's going on, Father?" Claude asked, barging into the study.

"I... I think I've been duped..." his father answered, more as a sigh than an actual spoken answer.

He explained that one of the convoy's ships carried stuff belonging to Sir Fux. His father was the one pulling the strings from backstage, but Sir Fux was the one pulling his strings from the atrium.

He'd been the one who'd first suggested keeping the route a secret rather than reporting it to the king immediately, and he'd been the one to push for the convoy. Given his high position in the government, however, he could not openly be a part of the endeavour, so he'd made Claude's father his front man. As part of that he'd given him 500 crowns to purchase materials to be sold on his behalf. Morssen should have issued a formal receipt, but he'd instead written a promissory note for the sum instead, at Sir Fux's insistence.

Claude finally understood why Sir Fux hadn't mustled his way into the endeavour the moment he'd found out about it. So he'd been in on it from the beginning. That promissory note was what had now come back to haunt him. Butcher Bill had come knocking and demanding repayment.

Chapter 151 - Despair

It was an outright scam, but Claude's father couldn't deny it. Sir Fux's intentions were clear. He was a member of the Council of Dignitarians and it wouldn't be appropriate for him to participate in large-scale trade operations, especially something similar to smuggling. So, he had Morssen write him a promissory note for the sum of goods and the ship instead of a formal receipt.

With the promissory of five hundred crowns, Sir Fux only had to mention it from time to time to others so they were aware of the deal. When the convoy returned, Morssen could use the excuse that he didn't have any money to repay Sir Fux and pay in the form of a ship's worth of cargo instead. People then couldn't criticize Sir Fux even if he made a profit.

Morssen would also go unsuspected for transferring cargo worth easily ten times five hundred crowns. His mind was clouded by the potential money he could earn and he believed the convoy would return safely, since they were in control of the new route.

He thus gladly agreed to a promissory note and even had some friends be the witnesses. He also expressed his admiration for Sir Fux for his intelligence. Borkal's father, Rublier, had also been there and he tried to tug on his arm when he saw Morssen was ready to sign the note. If only he'd listened to his friend. There was no medicine for regret, however.

Claude also finally understood what was going on. He'd found it weird that his father had two ships in the convoy despite investing just five hundred crowns, barely enough for one ship. With the convoy gone, every single crown had been flushed down the drain, along with an additional five hundred crown debt his father owed Sir Fux.

He didn't know what to say. His father had truly doomed himself. He should not have thought of Sir Fux as a man who could accept his losses. He might not make anything from the endeavour, but he sure as hell was not going to lose anything.

"They've all gone, right? What did they say?"

"Bidlir's given me two days to get the money..." His father said, clawing at his face as tears filtered through his fingers. He'd seen his hope of rebuilding dashed against the rocks like the convoy's ships the moment the promissory note came out. He couldn't just ignore it, either. The note had been signed in the presence of a number of witnesses, and several had signed it as such. If he just refused to pay, Sir Fux could take him to court and he would lose.

"What'll they do in two days? What'll they do if you don't have the money?" Claude asked.

Maybe he should pay Butcher Bill a visit? He felt, for the first time, true murderous intent sparking in his chest.

"They'll take the mansion if I can't pay..."

"Will that clear the debt?"

"No. I put the mansion down as security on the loan, and they appraised it at just 320 crowns. So if he takes the mansion they'll only get 320. They'd get even less if I hadn't paid off the loan since the money made on the mansion would first have to clear that."

"Can't you borrow the money from someone?"

"Borrow?--" Claude's father's eyes glinted for a moment, then dulled again. "--The money wouldn't have been an issue if I hadn't already liquidated everything I owned to get the money for the compensation. A loan of that size would need equal security, and I don't have anything. The mansion isn't enough to cover that big a loan. I can't borrow from any friends of mine either, they're all in the same boat as me, minus the promissory note, of course -- the lucky bastards..."

"I'll handle it. You know a lot of people, see how much money you can borrow and I'll figure something out about the rest. I can start hunting again when summer comes along. With a bit of luck I should be able to help you pay back your loans."

All he needed to do was rob Blacksnake. Since they were extorting money from his father, they might as well be the ones to foot the bill.

His father rubbed away his tears, and his solemn, but neutral face returned. He even cracked a half-hearted smile.

"I'm sorry for showing you such a miserable face. I'm okay now. I just need some time to clear my head and think. I'm sure I'll come up with something. No matter how much the money I owe, I'll figure out how to cover it. You shouldn't put your time and money on the line for me."

"Enough," his father said exasperatedly when he saw his son staring at him, unconvinced, "I'm really fine. I'll talk to Sir Fux. I didn't think he lacked the backbone to stomach his losses like a proper man, but I'll pay him back if that's what he wants, he just needs to be reasonable about the payback term. We've been close associated for decades now, that should count for something."

"What if he won't budge?"

"He will. I am bound by my word to pay him back if he demands it, but Rublier and Thomas know why the promissory note was a thing at all. If Sir Fux wants to still have a reputation at all, he'd be reasonable."

Claude grimaced. He didn't understand what kind of 'reputation' that man could possibly have that was worth protecting, but to each his own, he supposed.

"Go back home. We'll be fine. I can't offer you a safe haven anymore, you have to rely on yourself and Lady Maria. You can only get somewhere with her support now. If it's at all possible, leave town. There are no worthwhile prospects for you here, especially not now that Robert has actual power. It would be best if you can make it to the royal capital."

"Okay. But you have to let me know the moment something happens. I'll stop by every day for a while as well."

His peace said, Claude took his leave.

He kept his word, too. He stopped by his parents' house every day for the next week. His father usually wasn't home though. He left before sunrise and returned near midnight. When his mother asked about the debt, he would just say things are still on track, so Claude didn't learn much about the situation.

"Speak! Tell me where's your boss!"

Claude pinned a Blacksnake thug to the muddy walls in a corner of the room. The poor sod was bleeding out of every hole in his face and head, including the ones left in his jaw by his broken teeth, which lay strewn over the floor like spilt popcorn.

"I... I don't know.. Please... mercy..."

Claude clamped his throat until he started convulsing, on the edge of death, then released and the poor sod gasped through a hoarse voicebox.

"Talking or not?"

"G-go t-t'the fish p-processing plant... and s-see..."

Claude shovelled a fist into the man's face, who instantly collapsed, and let him slither down the wall to the ground behind him as he left.

"Don't bullshit if you don't know anything! And why don't you have any money on you?" he cursed angrily.

His excursions had been fruitless for days now. He had yet to find Bidlir and the gambling den was empty as usual. He didn't understand why the bastard hadn't reopened his den now his training was finished.

Claude had gone to the fish-processing plant that night. Apart from some fish left out to dry, there wasn't anything else. Claude caught a minor leader who was managing the place and questioned him only to find that Bidlir hadn't come to the plant for at least half a year now. He still owed his men two month's of salary too.

So Claude went to the old street in hopes of barging into Blacksnake's headquarters, but he didn't think that a dozen or so men of the fourth band was guarding it. Faced with all those muskets, Claude had no choice but to retreat. Getting shot by a stray bullet in the dark of night was a pathetic way to go. He observed the place from the shadows and found that the thugs seemed rather lazy. That meant that Butcher Bill probably wasn't there.

In the end, Claude got one of the gang members who was relieving himself with a street harlot and brought him into that small alley. Soon, he found that Bidlir wasn't at the headquarters of the gang, but the thug wasn't sure where he was either.

Tomorrow would be the third day. Bidlir Blanche would bring his garrison thugs to knock on his door for the debt, and Claude didn't know how the situation there was developing. Claude looked at the skies and decided that it would be best to head back. Currently, the old street wasn't a good place to linger around. Many of the visitors of the street were the troops from the navy and people shrouded up like Claude were few and easily spotted.

Blacksnake were also armed with guns now. Claude couldn't mount an attack like he often did before. He would definitely be shot at if he was discovered. Claude was quite fearful of having a gun pointed at him as he was aware of their power. It was one thing if they didn't hit, but if they did, a thumb-sized hole would be bore in him. When shot from a close range, the damage would be far worse.

Bidlir Blanche was quite lucky to have not run into him during the past two nights. Claude decided that he would go home tomorrow to deal with the troublesome matter with his father first.

Meanwhile, Morssen was writing frantically as tears flowed down his face. During the past two days, he had made his way all over town but was given the cold shoulder everywhere he went. Sir Fux refused to meet him and his butler claimed that he had gone to the prefectural capital. Morssen, however, knew that he was actually in his manor.

So, Morssen said he wanted to see his son, Arbeit, only to be told that he had resigned and stole a pair of crystal candle holders which Sir Fux favored the most. Had Sir Fux not taken their old interactions into account, he would've long reported Arbeit to the constables.

Morssen was completely distraught. He had lingered at Sir Fux's manor for the better part of the day, but nobody bothered with him. He returned home thirsty and hungry and Rublier, the only one who could help him, had left for Simlock two days ago.

Morssen put his pen down and looked at the two pages he wrote. He made some corrections and wiped his tears, before signing his name and stamping his thumb on the document. He blew out the candle and remained in his chair for a long time before standing up. He adjusted his clothes with the light of the moon and took out a bottle of gran wine from his cupboard. He then went up to the attic and stumbled out of the window and sat by the ledge of the roof, continuing to gulp down mouthful after mouthful of wine.

During the first moments of daybreak, he finished his wine and gradually stood up. He headed to the ledge, opened his arms wide and jumped off the roof towards the sky like a clumsy bird...

Chapter 152 - Turmoil

"What did you say?! Morssen actually jumped and killed himself?!"

After hearing the news his butler delivered, Sir Fux stood up abruptly in the midst of biting into a grape at breakfast. His napkin dragged his crystal wine glass over and the fruit wine spilled all over his shirt. He couldn't care less about it in that moment, however. He drilled over to his butler and yanked him off his feet against the nearest wall by his collar.

"Is this true?!"

The butler, terrified from his master's face, nearly shat himself. He'd never seen so much fury in a single expression before.

"I heard he jumped just after sunrise this morning. He leapt from the mansion's roof onto the cobblestone and shattered his head."

Sir Fux let go of his butler and deflated like a balloon.

"He... how dare he commit suicide... Who allowed him to do it?!"

He overturned his table, and slammed it into the floor, nearly cracking the delicate marble tiles. His crystal glasses shattered into a million pieces and decorated the floor like tiny stars. The butler stared at his master from the corner he'd picked and shivered.

"How dare he commit suicide?! How... dare... he!"

He only calmed down after raging for half an hour, his head a tomato.

"His heir must be Bloweyk, yes?"

"Yes... I heard that he wrote a final will before he committed suicide and named Bloweyk his heir. The child would bear all his debt."

Sir Fux flipped out again.

"I knew it... I knew it, Morssen... Well played! You want to drag me down even after you killed yourself! You've made me the laughingstock of the whole town! His son... What's he called, Clow? Clover? Wait, it's Claude, right? Isn't he an adult? He can take over the household, yes?"

"He turned eighteen this year, yes, but he's already registered as the head of his own family, a branch of the main Ferd family. He doesn't own anything that could be taken against the debt either. He lives on Normanley Wood as its appointed caretaker. I heard he's really filial though, and takes great care of the family. I don't think he'll fight his brother for the inheritance against his father's will."

"Ugh... Maybe I shouldn't have pressed Morssen so much -- not so quickly at least. He might have kept his head if I'd agreed to give him some time to get the money, maybe a couple years... Damn him! He's going to drag me down with him! -- Is Arbeit still on Old Street?"

"Probably not. He went to searching for his little lover after you fired him and hasn't gone home since."

"Tell Bidlir to find him and keep a watch on him. Don't let him leave town. Also, tell him to go home and take over the household. Registered separately or not, he's the oldest so he can overturn his father's will. Tell him if he gives me the mansion I'll absolve him of the debt he'll inherit."

"Yes, Master."

The butler left in a hurry, and Sir Fux lost control again. He picked up everything he could find and threw it around the room, he even tore the doors off his cupboards.

"Damn you Stellin! Damn your stupid debt law..."

The gardener outside heard the commotion and the curses as he dutifully tended the plants. His expression stiffened immediately.

In an alley near Old Street a row of run-down two-storey buildings stood. Sir Fux's butler was brought to one of the buildings along it by a couple Blacksnake gangsters.

Arbeit was still asleep; it didn't stop the thugs from bringing the butler in.

"Arbeit, your father is dead. Why haven't you gone home?" the butler asked sternly.

"Go home? For what? To inherit his debts?" Arbeit asked, uninterested in the conversation.

The butler told him Sir Fux's conditions.

"Fine. You can go back now. Send Sir Fux my greetings. I'll go home later."

When the butler left, Arbeit cackled.

"You think I'm stupid? You want me to inherit that debt? Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe you'll just write off that debt for a mansion? That old bastard does nothing but fart!"

A red-haired woman squirmed out of the sheets.

"Abbey, are you really not going home? Your father is dead."

"No, I won't go back to be beaten up," Arbeit said firmly, "You might not know it, but that brother of mine is a real bastard. He loves to beat me up. He might have held back some when my father was still around, but he won't now that the old fool is dead. He can take care of the debt."

"If he could take the debt, why did Sir Fux tell you to go home and take it?"

"He probably wants to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. The king made a new law a couple years back that says that when a debtor dies his heir has to resign his debts in his own name when he inherits the estates. No one is allowed to collect any debts for three months either -- it's to give the new debtor time to grieve and get the estates in order. That bastard little brother of mine has a decent backing, so he might just be able to get them back over here before the three months run out to put a stop to any debt collections."

Arbeit, for all the smarts he'd inherited from his father, clearly lacked experience in scheming. He hadn't even thought of using Bloweyk to kill the debt.

"Speaking of which, want to make a little money?"

"Who doesn't? You've freeloaded at my place for three days now. You haven't paid me a single copper," the redhead said as she tugged on Arbeit's ears.

"S-stop! I'll write a letter to take home and ask my brother for money. He won't say no."

"You aren't lying? He'll really give me the money? How much?"

"Maybe one or two crowns... I doubt he can give any more."

"That much? Really? What letter will you write?" the girl asked excitedly.

"Well, I'm going to officially renounce my claim to the family inheritance. Just take it to him and tell him you want 3 crowns in exchange for the letter, but you have to split half of it with me."

"Wait, you really don't want to take the inheritance?"

Arbeit nodded firmly.

"After I write the letter, have your father wait before going out to sea. When you come back, bring me to the docks. We'll leave with your father. I can't stay in Whitestag any longer. That old fox will hunt me down for payback. I might have thought about doing it if he paid me a hundred crowns, but I'm not taking his word for spit."

Bidlir stood outside the red-bricked mansion. He never imagined he would be dragged into Morssen's suicide and be unable to leave. He was instructed by the town's chief justice to head to his house to investigate the matter at the same time he heard about the man's death.

He was beginning to regret joining the damned garrison. He could have just sent someone out in his place if he'd been a civilian, but as a bandsman he was duty bound to carry out his superiors' instructions exactly, and they were for him, personally, to go and deal with the matter. Not to mention that the promissory note he'd shown the man was no doubt the reason he'd committed suicide in the first place, so he was going to be interrogated about his role in the whole affair.

His eyes scanned the crowded street for the umpteenth time. He swore half of the town was there. The damned man just had to salvage his reputation before they could get to him for his debt to Sir Fux.

He'd never felt so humiliated in his entire life. No one actually came up to him to curse him for 'killing' the respected bastard, but they didn't have to, their eyes stabbed him a million times worse.

Gods, he was just the poor sod unfortunate enough to have been sent on the fatal errand! He felt even more uncomfortable when he felt the surging murderous intent from the bastard's second welp cutting him into a million pieces.

He'd killed many people before, and dealt with any number of people who'd wanted him dead, but he'd never felt a murderous gaze like that boy had. The welp felt more like a demon than a human.

His unease at the boy's gaze faded some when he was informed by one of his subordinates that the welp, for all his youth, was quite the experienced hunter; it at least gave a reasonable explanation for his inordinate amount of bloodlust.

"How much longer do they want me to stay here..." he complained.

"Be patient, Boss. We never thought something like this would happen. Just wait until the justice department's done with the promissory note," a witty subordinate answered.

"We've been waiting here the whole morning already! Why are they dragging their feet?"

He could have killed to be let into the house, but that bastard second welp of Morssen had forbidden them the house, and was standing at the entrance, watching them like a hawk.

"Eh? Isn't that Alice? Why's she here?" someone asked when a redhead burst out of the crowd.

She made for Claude and he let her in after she showed him a letter. She left a minute later, a giant smile on her face.

She was stopped by one of Bidlir's goons, but he soon let her go and returned.

"She delivered a letter from that babyface, Arbeit. He's apparently renounced his claim to his inheritance."

"Only a fool would take on a five-hundred-crown debt," one of the others answered.

An officer from the court arrived a few minutes later and checked the promissory note. He glanced at Bidlir contemptuously and snorted.

"Wait here. Chief Justice Kauff will come this afternoon. He wants to look into your relation to the debt. Keep the promissory note with you as well."

"How much longer?" Bidlir asked, on the brink of giving in.

"I don't know. Probably till this afternoon. Luckily no one's contesting Morssen's will. Kauff will deal with you. Just stay out of sight for a while. There'll be a service here in a bit."

Chapter 153 - Act of Creditors

"According to the kingdom's law on inheritance, as Morssen Ferd's eldest and second sons have signed letters renouncing their claim to his inheritance. The only remaining legitimate heir, thus, is Bloweyk Ferd, the family's youngest son. Sign your names here and here and here and here and here and here and here as witnesses."

The chief justice, Kauff, wrote a long page and had the late Morssen's friends sign as witnesses.

Kauff was an odd guy. He had few to no friends and often went about his business alone. He didn't interact with others at all if he had his way. That was, however, also a special feature of his position. After Stellin IX ascended, he revamped many aspects of the kingdom's laws and the most praiseworthy was the separation of the chief justice position from local power structures and hierarchies.

After everyone finished signing, Kauff took out his seal and stamped all three copies before signing his name and writing a date. He handed one to Claude before pocketing the other two.

Bloweyk was the main Ferd family's head in that moment. Kauff then produced another paper and started reading.

"The inheritance Morssen Ferd left includes a Hogg-style, four-storey mansion and a debt of five hundred crowns. As the legitimate heir is yet an adult, the inheritance shall be managed in his place by Pattisia Ferd until he turns eighteen. Please sign here, here, here, here, here, and here as witnesses."

Everyone signed again.

The world seemed a little backward to Claude, he didn't understand the focus on males over females, especially for inheritance. He'd only learned about it after his father's will came into discussion. Neither his mother or sister could legally inherit anything from his father, unless there were no male heirs in the extended family.

What Claude saw as unfair sexism was something his mother thought was normal. When women were wedded to a peasant, they would remain a peasant. But when they were married to a dignitarian, they would also enjoy the same status as their husbands. With Morssen's case, his mother lost dignitarian status after his death and she was now just a peasant widow.

The biggest part of the show was saved for the last. Kauff took the promissory note of five hundred crowns and declared, "As the debtor, Morssen Ferd, has committed suicide, the debt of five hundred crowns will be inherited by the legitimate heir, Bloweyk Ferd. According to the Act of Creditors, the heir is still not an adult. As such, after the transfer of the bill, it shall be frozen and be paid back from the moment he reaches adulthood. Given the huge amount owed, the heir will be given a decade starting from the day he reaches adulthood to repay the debt."

That was the true reason Sir Fux was so mad after hearing about Morssen committing suicide. He had been toyed with by Morssen. Allowing the immature Bloweyk to become the heir meant that according to the Act of Creditors, the debt could only be repaid after Bloweyk turned adult and since he was only eight, there was still a decade until he was eighteen.

During that time, the debt will be frozen and the mansion would still remain the property of the Ferds. The income from the rent of the mansion would all be Bloweyk's. Additionally, given that the debt was far too large, the resigned debt had a new repayment term of ten years. In other words, Sir Fux, the creditor, had to wait at least two decades before receiving the five hundred crowns he was owed.

Sir Fux was already 61 this year, and it wasn't yet known whether he'd live for another twenty years. The only good part for him about this whole ordeal was that the promissory note had been formally acknowledged by the chief justice and made entirely legal instead of remaining a scam Sir Fux set for Morssen.

Before Stellin IX became king, he had lived among the people and understood their pains. So, when he instituted his economic reforms, he heavily revamped the Act of Creditors to free the people from the trap of high-interest loans. It saved many households from being ruined by crushing debt and greatly curbed the loan shark epidemic as well as stabilised the kingdom's economy. It also helped establish the common currency across the kingdom.

The promissory note of five hundred crowns was considered an unsecured loan in the first place and it was classified as the least secure kind of loan under the act. No creditor would be willing to make that kind of loan. However, Sir Fux didn't dare to get Morssen to offer up collateral for the loan as that would make him suspicious of his intentions. Back then, all he wanted was an insurance for his investment and he didn't expect that doom would befall the trading fleet in the first place.

Sir Fux also hoped that the voyage would succeed so that he could make a killing. However, his dreams evaporated due to a twist of fate and he wanted to make up for his losses through his promissory note with Morssen. That was why he got Bidlir Blanche to reclaim the debt. He wanted to use Butcher Bill's bloody reputation to terrify Morssen into handing his assets over.

He had long set his sights on Morssen's Hogg-style, red-bricked mansion. As the only member of the Council of Dignitarians in Whitestag, he felt that it was a little unbefitting of his status to live in that manor of his. It was easy to buy a piece of land and construct a grand manor within it, but the new house wouldn't have as much grandeur. Only the famous and historical red-bricked mansion would be something that was worth him living in.

Sir Fux had always thought that Morssen's changing of the red-bricked mansion into an apartment complex was ruining the reputation of the building. He had asked the man whether he wanted to let the mansion go, but Morssen firmly refused. Now that he had such an opportunity, he wanted to pocket the mansion for himself and rebuild it into his own residence.

He didn't think that Morssen would be so harsh and took advantage of the fact that the promissory note didn't have a collateral to kill himself and render Sir Fux's plan useless. Sir Fux could clearly imagine Morssen's spirit mocking him. You want my house? No problem, just wait twenty years for it.

The worst part for Sir Fux, the creditor, was that he had to pray for Bloweyk's safe growth into adulthood. The kingdom's laws also stipulated that should the new debtor die when the debt was frozen, then the debt would be annulled and would no longer be the burden for the new heir to bear.

That clause of the bill incited much conflict before it was passed into law. The house members were clearly split on whether that should be included in the bill. But due to the harsh and ruthless market of predatory lending that often resulted in deaths of the debtors, It also wasn't uncommon for creditors to rely on gangs or triads to harm the debtors and sell their female relatives to brothels.

In the end, Stellin IX's strong insistence caused the third final voting for the bill to be passed into law with the existing clauses with a weak majority. From then on, everyone who borrowed unsecured loans gained the upper hand. Their slogan was often 'come at me and I'll die'.

The passing of the Act of Creditors was a nightmare for loaners all across the kingdom, especially those who offered unsecured loans. They suffered the most losses out of the bunch. But for the kingdom as a whole, it helped curbed the debt epidemic and stabilised its economy. Even predatory lenders could only offer loans when there was collateral.

Kauff took out four copies of the same debt renewal contract and placed them on the table. As Madam Ferd was bedridden from intense grief following her husband's death, Claude had to sign in her stead as the guarantor and manager of the debt. He then dragged his little brother over and covered his thumb with red ink before stamping it on the contract.

Bloweyk still didn't understand what Morssen's suicide during the morning meant for him. He only knew that many people came to his house, all wearing stern expressions. His mother and sister kept on crying while Claude dealt with everything else. The cold demeanour of the brother that spoiled and loved him so much frightened him somewhat. Even though he was a little confused, he was already eight and knew that something really bad had happened at home. So, all he did was hug the snowhound and coop up in the corner of the house, as well as whatever Claude asked him to do.

"The creditor may sign his name now," Kauff said.

It was finally Bidlir Blanche's turn to show up. He had never witnessed such proceedings ever before. He had seen many people, no doubt, but they were mostly poor people from the slums. Nobody really made a big deal out of their deaths. That's right, a big deal. The most anybody would do at the slums was purchase a thin coffin and bury them at the shrines after some prayers. No more than ten or so relatives would send those people off.

He didn't think that the former chief secretary, Morssen's death would cause such a serious situation. Even he was quite surprised that the chief justice himself had attended the execution of the will to acknowledge the new debt agreement proper. All that made him, the boss of Blacksnake and leader of the fourth band, really unnerved. He even had the notion that if he could initiate something like this following his death, it would be a life well lived.

But he didn't think he'd be stopped by Kauff. "Bandsman Bidlir Blanche, you are not the creditor and thus cannot make the signature."

"But... but I have Sir Fux's personal letter of appointment! I represent him!" The man hurriedly took out the document Sir Fux's butler handed him.

Kauff still shook his head. "Apologies, this is a debt of five hundred crowns. You are not Sir Fux's blood relative and you have no right to represent him. Please inform him that according to the Act of Creditors, if the creditor cannot personally sign the renewal of the loan, that would mean that he's giving up on the debt willingly."

Bidlir Blanche rushed out of the entrance and grabbed one of his subordinates to rush to Sir Fux's manor to get him to resign the loan. That was a debt of five hundred crowns and he didn't dare to make a decision about it himself.

An hour later, Sir Fux showed up at the entrance of the mansion. He didn't want to come, but that would mean that his debt would evaporate into thin air. Even if he had to wait two decades to be paid in full, it was still better than having nothing. Five hundred crowns was a huge sum after all and he came in the end.

Before, whenever Sir Fux showed up, the people of status and reputation would flock to him to greet him. But when he showed up at Claude's home, nobody bothered to greet him. Some looked at him silently, others didn't speak to him even though their eyes met. It was obvious that the others already knew what he had done.

Chapter 154 - Guarantee

Sir Fux didn't know how he made it to the study on the first floor of the house. He never expected so many people to be in the house. The dining hall on the ground floor was packed as well and most of the people were townsfolk of some repute. Nobody bothered to greet him. Even those chatting didn't want to talk to him. The wordless stares they all gave him instead felt like countless needles burrowing into his skin.

The first floor had a small lounge by the stairs where about a dozen people were gathered in a small group. Sir Fux relaxed some when he saw Bidlir among them. He wore his guard uniform and took the initiative to greet Sir Fux when he noticed his arrival.

"In here, Sir."

The man pointed at the door to the study, still shut.

Sir Fux swept his gaze over the dozen others standing around in the study and recognised a couple. He started a smile of greeting, but they all turned their heads away the moment they noticed his intention.

His smile halted at an awkward grimace and he turned to Bidlir gloomily.

"Let's go."

The study was much emptier. Chief Justice Kauff was present with two aides, four of Morssen's closest confidantes, all investors in the failed endeavour that had subsequently claimed the man in question's life. They all also happened to have been present when he'd drawn up the promissory note which had been used to push him to suicide.

The whelp Claude stood by his little brother, now the head of the main Ferd family, holding his hand next to the desk. Their sister, Angelina, if Sir Fux remembered correctly, choked back tears on the whelp's other side, clinging to his other hand like it was all that kept her from falling down a cliff. Sir Fux also caught a glance at a dog's tail from behind the three. The eldest of the four Ferd siblings was absent, and the veins on Sir Fux's temples pulsed when he recalled the brat's betrayal.

Claude, for his part, shared Sir Fux's fury at his older brother's behaviour. He had to fight to keep himself from beating the bastard to a pulp in one of those dark alleys the shit so loved to frequent.

He had to be at his parent's house now, however. He was the only adult male left in the family, at least for the next decade or so until Bloweyk became an adult and could officially take over, so he had to be the one to handle things for now. Much help he would have been, however, he scolded himself. He didn't have a single clue how to deal with anything. Thank goodness Welikro had convinced his father to help him out.

He was still recovering from hearing of his father's death that very same morning. He might not have lived with the man as long as his other siblings, despite their younger age, for he'd transmigrated into this world just two years earlier; and he might have had his differences with his father over those two years, but he'd still loved the man dearly. He also owed the man a comparatively good start in life, compared to all the numerous character's he'd read about in his previous life who'd happened upon a similar fate.

At the very least, his father had had enough clout and reputation in town that most of its upper class gave him, the man's second son, enough face to show up at his mourning ceremony. The thought tenderised his eyes for the umpteenth time today, but he fought back the tears.

He would have loved to lock himself away from the world and live the life of a hermit on his mistress' estate, doing nothing but hunting and learning magic. He'd had his time of shiny-eyed wanderlust back on Earth. Now he just wanted a quiet, sedentary life without anything too exciting happening.

As Li Bai had written in his poem 'leave with a flick of the sleeve; leave not your name and looks'. He'd been well on his way to achieving that as well. But his father had gone and died and robbed him of that life. Now all that lay ahead for him was a life of suffering and hard work to keep his family's heads above water.

His new life had been cracked into his old by his crying sister that morning. He'd not even bothered to wash up. He'd just jumped on a carriage after grabbing some more decent clothes and his pouches and darted to his parents', nay, his mother's, house.

He'd found his mother collapsed in the kitchen, sobbing inconsolably. It took him nearly two hours to finally calm her down, at which point he immediately took off for the apothecary and asked him to come by his house and take a look at his mother. He returned home and went by where his father's life had ended in a sudden, cracking halt.

His father's body still lay there, yet to be removed by the new garrisoneers. They'd at least covered him with a sheet so Claude was spared the full gore of the sight. He could still see the blood, however, which had splattered half the yard and even up to the first floor windows, and which had soaked right through the sheet. The last of the keepers still in town were standing guard and keeping the crowd at a distance.

He'd knelt by his father's body and let the tears flow down his cheeks quietly. His life had been torn from a state of relative calm into shreds in just three days. He'd barely started adjusting to the idea that his father was no longer a man of decent standing in town as far as his job went, and now he had to deal with his father's death. If he'd only had a couple more days. He'd have killed Sir Fux and this wouldn't have happened.

He couldn't care less about the commotion that bastard's death would have caused. He'd gotten more than used to killing humans now, and he actually relished the idea of snapping the man's neck. He'd calmed down at least a little now, though, and realised he would probably not have gotten away with it. People didn't care when a couple slum thugs vanished or turned up dead, but the whole country would take notice if a member of the Council was killed.

He'd knelt in front of his father for probably about three quarters of an hour without realising it. He only came to his senses again when Welikro pulled him to his feet to get him out of the way while the local justiciary took his father's corpse away. His father had written a detailed account of everything that had happened leading up to his death, and spelt out, in as many words, who was behind his death, even if they'd not shoved him off his balcony themselves.

Seeing the aimlessness in Claude's eyes, one of the keepers told him to go to one of the shrines and buy a coffin and arrange the funeral, but Claude didn't even notice him talking. Welikro listened carefully, however, and noticed Claude was still completely lost in his own grief, and headed back to get his father to help.

It took Welikro an hour to get back with his father, and Claude had somehow made his way to the study by then. He'd only gathered up the strength to read his father's will when the two came through the door to the study.

The will was addressed specifically to him. His father knew he could be counted on, and he also knew his older brother would never take on the duty of looking after the family. In fact, he mentioned him only once, to make it clear he knew the brat wouldn't come home once he heard of his death. He declared Bloweyk his heir and asked Claude to not fight him for the inheritance to take on the debt himself.

He laid out his plan for the debt, and Claude was completely blindsided. He had indeed decided to inherit the debt from his father, but this changed everything. Despite all the reading he'd done and all the law classes he'd had in the years since he'd come here, he'd never dealt with inheritance law where debt was concerned, so he didn't know any of the loopholes and securities that could handle such a debt.

The laws made it clear that no minor could be in legal debt, since they could not sign the contracts necessary to take on such a debt. This counted for inherited debt as well, since debt contracts had to be resigned with the inheritor. This didn't mean the debt just vanished if the inheritor was a minor, however. The debt was 'frozen' until the minor became an adult, at which time the related contract had to be resigned.

What this meant for Sir Fux, was that he could not get a penny from any of the Ferds for the next 12-13 years, and the full debt would probably not be paid within the next two decades. He'd been turned into the town's idiot.

The price for this reprieve was his father's life, and Claude wouldn't have exchanged that for all the debt in the world. The will, at least, gave him some positive closure on his father's death. At least he now knew his father hadn't chosen suicide just to escape the responsibility he himself bore. He'd done it instead to spare his family the trouble his inability to repay the debt would have caused them. And who knew what they could do in the 13 or so years they had before the debt could begin to be claimed back. They might just manage to get it annulled.

With Welikro and his family's help, Morssen's funeral was organised without a hitch. Welikro played postman and delivered invitations and stopped by the market to buy everything they needed for the reception. Kubrik and a couple neighbours cleaned up the yard and brought over tables and chairs. The coffin came a couple hours later and Morssen's cleaned corpse was put inside. A local painter, someone of whom Morssen had been a patron, sourcing most of the portraits they'd had in the house before he'd sold everything from him, took most of the day to paint a simple portrait of his face for the funeral as well.

Claude, despite not being his father's principle heir, played host as his little brother's guardian de jure.

Most of the attendees were from the town's upper classes, all dignitarians. Those unable to attend due to their lack of status put mourning flowers, folded from blessed paper, by the entrance and along the wall. They all also wore a black flower brooch, a symbol of mourning.

Claude only realised he hadn't eaten yet that day when Bloweyk started complaining about his own lack of sustenance. Welikro volunteered to pop over the street to get them a few snacks from the stall the four friends had frequented in their school days.

He thanked the gods that, all things going well, none of the following days would be as busy. Funerals were three-day affairs on Freia. He'd forgotten his money pouches, but luckily, given the status of his father and the tragic nature of his death, everyone gave him a tab and said he could pay them back in a couple of days once things had settled down.

The first order of business was the public funeral and mourning service, which usually took up most of the first day. The second day was the burial, which would happen in one of the shrines. That, too, took up most of the day, with many long ceremonies involving priests from all of the major shrines. The third day was mostly a private day for family and close friends to mourn the dead.

Claude returned from his private world to find Sir Fux standing in front of him. His eyes shot with blood immediately, but he managed to keep his face from contorting into a mask of hatred even the devil might fear. He couldn't keep his desire to kill the bastard out of his eyes, however, and stared at Sir Fux and his lackey Bidlir with a frigid fury that made the two shiver.

Sir Fux tried to greet the others in the room with a nod, but they all made obvious efforts to not see him. Only Kauff acknowledged his existence. The man gave him a kurt, yet polite, greeting, then pointed at the new debt contract.

"Sign here. Please be quick. Time is short and I have much to do before the day's out."

Sir Fux smiled apologetically and stepped forward. He took the pen provided firmly, but hesitated when he felt the four contemptuous gazes boring into his back. The pen suddenly became so heavy he nearly dropped it. He knew everyone knew what was going on with the promissory note and why it had driven Morssen to kill himself. They hated him as much for what he'd forced Morssen to do as for that he'd roped them and their consciences into the black affair.

Thomas was the next one to sign, and he spat in Sir Fux's general direction when he put the pen down again.

"If I'd known what you'd do with this thing I would never have signed it in the first place. I should have been more forceful with Morssen when I told him not to sign your damned promissory note!"

None of the four refused to sign the new contract, however.

One copy was given to him and one to Bloweyk -- Claude received it in his place. Two copies would be kept in Town Hall as well.

Sir Fux smiled benevolently when he felt the crisp paper in his hand and turned his gaze to Claude.

"You must be Claude. I'm so sorry to hear about what happened to your father. If I'd known about his situation earlier I'd have rushed back from the capital to meet with him and come up with an arrangement. How about this, I'll call off the debt if you sign over the mansion to me. I'll swallow the rest of the debt."

While he couldn't pressure anyone to pay the debt while Bloweyk was still a minor, nobody could stop his guardian from paying the debt off early if he so chose.

Claude's frigid gaze suddenly lost its anger. What replaced it was even worse for Sir Fux, however. It was a gaze of utter contempt and derision.

"Sir Fux, I do not readily make promises, but I vow to you today, that for as long as either of us breathes, this mansion will belong to the Ferd family."

Chapter 155 - Move

"...hope your soul find rest in the war god's kingdom. Iriya's feathered wings guard your rest eternally."

The priest took a deep breath after finishing his prayer and his white and gold toga fluttered as he closed his holy tome. He turned to Claude.

"Your father was a good man. He was kind and fair. I admire his courage to sacrifice himself for the sake of his family. He paid the ultimate price, but did so without hesitation to spare his wife and children."

Claude bowed slightly. He didn't know what to say. He'd honestly not expected so many to show up for the funeral. The shrine was full and the crowd even spilled out onto the plaza outside.

Freians, like the Christians of old Earth, buried their dead in the ground in wooden coffins. The graves were also capped with a gravestone and slab in a cemetery just outside of town. The only real difference was that the tombstones didn't stand upright, but instead lay flat on the ground. It was also tradition to make use of the body-sized capstone to write a short biography of the buried's life, with their name engraved on the headstone.

Thomas rolled back his sleeve and, together with Morssen's other close friends, lifted the capstone in place over his grave.

From lowering the coffin to laying the capstone, the physical burial took about an hour and it was now time to say goodbye. Everyone lined up and walked by his grave. They removed the black flower brooches they'd put on two days earlier and placed them on the grave.

The grey capstone was soon a black mass on the ground and there were still more people waiting their turn.

Madam Ferd, dressed as black as her husband's brooch mound, burst into sobs. Her shoulders shuddered, but her tears had long since run dry. She fainted soon after and Claude had Welikro take her and his sister home. Bloweyk only realised his father was truly dead when he saw the coffin being lowered into the hole, and had not stopped crying yet.

It took Claude another two hours to thank each of the attendees and send them on their way. He watched the last of the carriages leave, then carried his little brother to his own, where Welikro waited in the driver's seat.

"You need to be careful, Claude. You shouldn't leave your mother at home alone. My sister said she'd seen that kind of face before. If she's left on her own she'll be dragged back into her sorrow and she'll fall into depression. While her wallowing for a while is inevitable, it won't do her any good to be where she'd lived with your father for so many years. A change of scenery is necessary for her recovery."

Claude nodded. Welikro had been careful not to say it, but Claude knew he was also talking about the fact that that same house had been where his father had killed himself. Their property and lifelong home or not, none of the three could continue to live there. He decided to move them to his home. They'd be away from everywhere that reminded them of their father and husband, and they'd be close enough that he could keep an eye on them. Space certainly wouldn't be an issue.

He appreciated the slowness of life here compared to old Earth, but in times like this he wished they had cellphones and cars again. If he'd been able to be told about what was going on with his father as quickly as phones would have allowed, he could have popped over and possibly stopped his father from jumping.

The slowed pace of information spread also got even worse once you left the settlement. The world beyond the kingdom's borders, and even just other smaller cities within the kingdom, aside, even news of significant events from the capital took at least five days to make it to the local prefectural capital, and at least another two days to make it to Whitestag.

And then there was the matter of the distortions and mistakes that would creep in over several days of mouth-to-ear relay. Claude had thought about forming his own intelligence network to at least make sure the reports he got were accurate, but he was still worlds away from having the money to start up such an endeavour, and at least a dozen more worlds away from having the continuous revenue to keep such an expensive organisation running.

He arrived back at the mansion to find his mother awake, but weak in bed. She looked ten years older than when he'd seen her last at the graveyard. She was also wax pale, and her eyes were dark and lifeless. She looked more like a corpse than a human. He had no doubt she would develop severe depression if something wasn't done, and soon.

Welikro left for home, leaving the last three days' bills on the desk in the study. Claude was relieved to see Freian funerals lacked the pomp and circumstance of the ones he'd seen back on old Earth. The greatest expense was the coffin. No special banquet or function outside of the mourning ceremony and funeral was held. The brooches were a close second. He'd handed out five thousand of them, and they now all buried his father's grave. The town had just under sixty thousand people, the rural area surrounding it included, so a nine-hundredths turn out was quite the achievement in and of itself.

Bloweyk's grief was soothed some by the news that he'd be living with his brother again. Angelina was less enthusiastic about the idea. The move would put her very far from school, a full forty minute one-way trip by carriage, even longer by foot.

"Don't worry yourself over such things," Claude said, knowing what sat behind her unhappy expression, "We have a carriage, don't we? I'll take you to school in the morning and come fetch you in the afternoon. And don't you dare go worrying about money, you're still a child so it's not your place to worry about such things."

His mother, like his sister, had her reservations, but Claude didn't care what she thought. The move, whether she wanted to make it or not, was necessary for her recovery from her husband's death, and it was his right and responsibility to overrule whatever she wanted to make sure she healed properly. He had quite a bit of preparation work to do at his home before they could move, however. He had to clean the rooms they would be occupying, and he had to move everything from his research room.

Welikro had just left the house and Claude headed for the door to catch him before he took off down the street, but when he got downstairs he found his friend coming back into the house with a young woman. It took him a moment to recognise her as Kefnie.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Kefnie had been at the cemetery for the funeral, but Claude hadn't had time to talk to her; they'd only nodded and exchanged kurt greetings.

"I am free this afternoon, so I thought I'd come over and see if I can help with something," she offered generously, "It wasn't appropriate to come during the official mourning period before your father's funeral, so I couldn't come earlier, I'm sorry."

"Well--" Claude scratched his head. "--We don't need too much done here. I'm moving the family to the estate. I'm heading back now to get things ready."

"You should stay with your mother. I'll go clean up." Welikro said.

"It's okay," Claude said quickly, "I won't be long."

"Don't worry, leave it to me," Welikro insisted.

"I'll go too. Men can't clean as well as women. Not to mention that since your mother is moving in you'll have to redecorate to something more fitting of a woman's home," Kefnie said, inviting herself.

"...Fine," Claude sighed.

At least he'd locked his research room, so they wouldn't stumble on anything forbidden while they were there. He'd just have to smuggle the stuff out once he got there.

"Sorry for the trouble."

"Don't mention it. What are friends for?" Kefnie said mischievously.

Kefnie, Welikro and the two younger Ferd children quickly left for the estate. Welikro returned about two hours later with a list of things they were to take back with them. Another hour later, mother, son, and friend headed back to the estate with a creaking carriage.

Claude supposed his father's selling off of most of their possessions was now a blessing in disguise. They didn't have to leave anything valuable behind for robber or looters. What they couldn't take he dumped in the front yard and told the neighbours to help themselves.

Welikro had brought Siori along to help with the packing, and he'd had quite the unhappy face when he realised he was too late to get anything good from the stuff Claude had thrown out. Claude offered him his pick from the leftover furniture as compensation, and the man made the best of it, taking almost everything.

They stopped by the market on the way out of town to buy groceries, then made their way up the hill to the estate, his mother sobbing dryly as she watched the town shrink behind her like she would never see it again.

Chapter 156 - Kefnie's Confession

"I never imagined there would be such a beautiful white mansion here," Kefnie said, her face flushed and her sleeves were rolled up high, revealing her two fair and smooth arms. Her long, red-brown hair covered part of her forehead while some stains hid part of her face.

"Your villa's pretty great, too. No wonder you spend most of your time here," she continued, washing the vegetables.

Claude kneaded a couple chunks of beef on the table behind her. Both Kefnie and Welikro had been invited to dinner, as had the Sioris. Claude suspected Siori felt bad for not actually helping with the move, instead just fetching the furniture Claude had offered him, because he'd told his wife to help clean the villa.

Bloweyk forgot all his grief when he saw the massive mansion and it took Welikro and Siori half an hour to find him and the snowhound when it started getting dark.

"It's much quieter here. I don't really like the town's constant buzz," Claude answered.

"Yeah, I haven't seen you since graduation..." Kefnie paused, as if hesitating about whether she should say something, then took a quiet breath and spoke again. "--I thought I would see you on new year's eve, but you didn't come. I even bumped into you on the way back. I didn't think you would be in disguise. You even lied to hide your identity."

"What are you talking about?--" Claude began, his hands twitching involuntarily.

"I knew it was you, don't lie again," the girl giggled, "I could tell from your eyes, and then you spoke and I was certain."

"I also know it was you that night Blacksnake had caught us..." she whispered after another pause.

Claude's hand reached for the cleaver he'd used to cut the meat involuntarily, and stared at his reflection in the blade muddied by the fat smeared on it, wondering whether it would be safer to silence her permanently.

"Have you told anyone? Does anyone else know?"

"So you admit it was you?" Kefnie asked instead, "No, no one else knows. I won't blab either. I know you stormed into the house to save me. I was so worried, I could tell it was you from your eyes. I almost burst out laughing when you told Luke to rob Jerad. Jerad was so terrified he kept saying you were a magus and it was a miracle we'd encountered you."

Claude's grip tightened on the cleaver's handle, turning his knuckles white, and the blade whimpered, as if eager to taste human blood. Kefnie continued her gloat, not knowing by how thin a thread her life hung.

"Promise me, promise you won't breathe a word to another soul about anything you know," Claude said as sternly as he could, driving the murder out of his voice and eyes as best he could as he stared at her intently.

Kefnie's slight blush of excitement turned crimson and her small, gentle pink lips whimpered.

"Not a whisper. It'll be our secret."

Claude's knuckles returned to their usual fleshy colour. He'd seen many such expressions back on old Earth and knew only too well what it meant. He had little intent to lock her in, however. Enjoyable as such young love would be, nevermind pleasurable and intense, he had no interest in rebirthing old vices. His plans for the future had no place for a woman, especially not one who'd been all but forced upon him by his ex-friend.

She did not lack for looks, and he quite looked forward to seeing how her figure matured, though her partially developed one was more than enough to boil his blood already, but he could do that without getting involved. Kefnie was a hen from hair to bone; her greatest dream was scrubbing together a lovely little nest and laying eggs and hatching chicks for the rest of her life. That was not on Claude's agenda. He had no intention of scrubbing together a nest, and even less of hatching chicks. He was not a sedentary man, and never would be. He was an explorer.
He sighed softly and thought that all he could do was to trust that she would keep his secret as she promised. He would make do if there were any changes down the line. He wasn't a sicko who could take the life of an innocent girl just to keep a secret, especially one who liked him.

"People's lives depend on it, my family's first and foremost, you understand?"

Kefnie bit her flushing lower lip and nodded.

"Are they bothering you?" Claude asked, suddenly veering the conversation in a different direction.

"No. We're staying on Mermaid's second floor. Uncle Aleksim was a good friend of Father's and he's been good to us."

An amused smile crept onto her tomato face for a moment and her eyes narrowed in inappropriate joy.

"Butcher Bill thought he could just march into the docks and take everything because he was wearing that silly coat. He'd barely planted his flag when the navy kicked him out again."

Claude sighed.

"It's not the best idea to just keep hiding. Sir Fux and the mayor is backing Blacksnake, and with their leader now a bandsman, they've got a lot of influence in all the right places. And with no one left to keep the mayor in check, they're only going to keep getting stronger. If he wants to settle down in town, whether he does it with your sister or not, he'd best join a larger force himself. The navy should be a good place to begin."

Claude left his suspicion that the navy was also gearing up for one, perhaps several, major operations.

"If he sides with the right side now, he might just end up controlling all of town, not just the docks."

"You're a real schemer, aren't you?!" Kefnie blurted.

"I'm not a schemer. It's just easier to come up with plans when your a neutral observer. I'm sorry about the whole affair. My father was the chief actor behind the whole business.

"I know he still has his shares in the businesses in and around the docks, but he would do much better to join the navy. He won't have to worry about his background either, since the navy don't really care as long as you're able-bodied enough to do the work."

Claude had thought this through carefully, and helping Jerad out now seemed like a good move from every angle. He lost little by telling Kefnie this, and would lose even less if something stopped the move from being a success. If it worked, however, Jerad would be in his debt, and he would have soothed his guilt over what he'd done to the sisters.

"Sis and Jerad should agree. Jerad's actually been thinking about disbanding Shark altogether and settling down with my sister. Then Bidlir showed up..."

Kefnie teared up, but they only hung on her eyes as they fixed themselves on Claude. Claude scratched his nose awkwardly in return. He was so poor it drove him nuts, and now he had the guilt of robbing two girls, even if indirectly, on his shoulders. Even worse, one of them was now, unintentionally perhaps, though it didn't really matter one way or another, ramming the nail right into his back.

"Are you going to join the army?" Kefnie asked suddenly.

"I don't know... It's not really up to me to decide. I'm a physical course student, so I'm already halfway a soldier and first in line to be conscripted if a war ever breaks out. That's why I'm very hesitant to make any kinds of promises that I very possibly can't keep," Claude said pregnantly, but the message didn't hit home.

"Then I'll wait," the girl answered.

Chapter 157 - Lady Maria's Gift

Claude suddenly realized he was busier than he'd ever been. He had to send his sister to school every day and pick her up after. He also had to take care of his mother and brother. At the same time, he had to patrol the estate and cook three meals a day. He couldn't just do it half-heartedly either like he'd done when he'd lived alone. He'd also become responsible for the snowhound... He was the only one taking any serious responsibility in the house.

Over the last week he'd also prepared his mother's room, including new wallpaper and curtains. He designed and had them made himself as well. She was his greatest worry the entire time. He had to change out all the house's furniture that had not been sold by his father so she wasn't pulled back into the past by them. He felt it was worth it, but that didn't undo the fact that he had burned up all his reserves. He had barely a fenny left after buying another round of materials for his practice.

At least his efforts were rewarded by good progress on his mother's recovery.

The 4th month was just around the corner when she called him to her room and handed him a bank book. She told him it had all the savings the house had left after his father had paid off all his debts. Just over 44 crowns. He'd intended to start a business with the money, but him being dead, it was just laying around.

She took a small case out from under her pillow and handed it to him as well. When he opened it he saw the rent contracts for all the apartments and shop lots in the mansion. Between them, they brought in eleven thales and two riyas every month, just over 25 crowns a year. After maintenance costs were subtracted, they made 16 crowns a year.

Rent was collected at the end of each quarter, the 4th month being the end of the first for the year, so it was time to collect the rent. Such matters had usually fallen to her since Morssen was always busy at work, but now that he was gone, and she both living away from the mansion and too weak to go back, Claude would have to do it.

It took Claude three days to collect all the rent, and most of his time in each. On top of that he cleaned out their old home and put it up for rent as well, which rounded up the mansion's monthly income to three crowns. It was enough for his mother and little brother and sister to live off without having to be too frugal. His mother would not have to worry about money for the rest of her life.

Kefnie made a habit of visiting as well. She had little reason to stop by -- nothing had changed as far as she was concerned -- but she did so nonetheless, and even took to doing some of the chores when she swung by. She got along particularly well with Claude's mother and often took her out for walks on the estate. Even Bloweyk had warmed to her quite a lot.

After about her eleventh visit, his mother started commenting about how nice a girl she was at every opportunity. Claude knew exactly what she was doing, however, and didn't fall for it. She was buttering him up to get his head out of his arse and wed and bed the girl. They were both old enough to, anyway, and it was not tradition to wait any longer than was absolutely necessary before getting married and starting a family.

His mother was in the middle of one of her badly veiled pushes when Rodan knocked on the front door with a letter from Maria.

She'd heard about what had happened and was deeply moved by his father's dedication to his family. She wrote that she wished she could come by for a while, but unfortunately the capital did not wait on anyone and she had pressing obligations that kept her there. That being the case, she still had news to give, hence her letter.

The first was to gift him twenty hectares, 200 thousand square metres, of woodland behind the villa. He would, as such own much of the hillside and valley on the far side of the hill on which the mansion and villa stood. Claude was completely speechless at his mistress' generosity.

"The lady has already made all the necessary arrangements. You just have to sign your agreement on the deed and the land is yours," Rodan explained, unable to understand why his mistress was being so generous to his junior.

Sure he was a fellow magus and had taken her on as his mistress in herbal medicine, but that was hardly enough reason to give him part of her estate.

"Oh." Claude nodded absentmindedly.

That was not the only gift his mistress had for him. She'd also gifted him three hundred crowns for the express purpose of purchasing as much land in and around the town as he could. She explained that the town was to be become a crown territory and be elevated to city, which would all but skyrocket the price of even the tiniest bit of dirt. If they bought the land at the current market rate, they'd make a killing. With it, they could buy all the materials they could want for many years to come.

The public announcement would not be released for another month and a half, at the end of the 5th month, but anyone in the know, including most of the government's various arms, were sending people to scout out and purchase property. The kingdom's watch, the Watchers in the Night, were also going to move into town. That little bomb of hers shocked Claude about as much as everything else she'd said and done so far combined. The Watch only set up camp in places of national importance, specifically those of the military variety, such as key port cities. This meant Whitestag was not just going to be a city, but it was going to be turned into a military port city.

While this made for great economic opportunity, it also made it ever more crucial for Claude to hide his magus self with even more prudence, which Maria warned him earnestly to do. If the Watch caught so much as a whiff of him, his life would be over.

That was actually the main reason she'd gifted him the land. The income it would hopefully generate for him, along with the money he'd make with her in the land purchases, should allow him to fund his endeavours without resorting to magic-infused robbery and other things such as hunting abnormal animals. He'd already drawn a lot of attention to himself in his magus persona. The Watch was on the prowl for his mysterious teacher, after they got news from the local magic black market branch.

That was how she'd heard about it as well. She knew immediately it could only be Claude who'd put up that little lie. It was one thing to prance around as a magus in Whitestag while it was a fringe town of little note, and another to do so once it was one of the Watch's main bases of operation in the region. If he was caught, she might be able to keep him from the guillotine, but she could do little more.

Claude felt lost when he finally put the letter down. Though he was thankful for her warning, not being able to rob Blacksnake was very disappointing. He had been waiting on a chance to pay Butcher Bill back.

"Master Claude, the lady instructed that the letter is to be burnt once you're finished reading," Rodan said, ever the dutiful servant.

Claude obliged and Rodan watched until the letter's ashes scattered up the chimney, then took out the deed.

"This is the deed. Please sign here...

"This is for the right to use the path leading to the estate. Sign here...

"This is the terms of the transfer, sign it here...

"This is the letter of attorney. It lets me act on your behalf where these documents are concerned.

"And this is the salary account. The lady has deposited another 20 crowns. You're responsible for paying the other servants from now on. Please sign here."

Claude signed on each of the documents, in triplicate and Rodan stabbed them all together, minus Claude's copy.

"I shall head to town then, now. You should hear back from me then. I'll return with the official deeds."

Claude was now a landowner despite being just 18 years old and not a noble. It made him part of an even smaller elite than the nobility. His plot of land as it stood, minus any potential revenue, alone was worth 800 crowns. If his age was discounted, he was part of the town's upper class, if not its elite.

He knew quite well why his mistress had given him so much land. It bound him to her estate, or at least to the land near it, since it wasn't technically part of her estate anymore. She appreciated his talent and predicted he would be going places in the future, and who wouldn't tie down a balloon to help lift you a little while it was still on the ground?

That was, at least, how it might seem to anyone else, and no doubt how it was meant to look to the townsfolk. It was to make sure they would not take advantage of his family. One had to gain substantial favour with a landed noble for them to give you such a core piece of their land, even if it was on an estate they hardly ever visited.

The real story, however, Claude knew all to well. His mistress was using an excellent excuse to pay him back for his spell formations. He wasn't too happy at her insistence, and her use of such sneaky tactics, to get her way where his repayment was concerned. It had been his choice to give them to her and he didn't want any payment for it, damnit!

He'd come to know her stubbornness too well to keep resisting, however. He had made her promise to look for combat spells for him, which was the only way he'd gotten her to accept his spells without trying to repay him on the spot. He supposed her repayment now meant she'd given up hope of finding him any. He understood, also, that, besides the excuse being more fitted to land, the fact that she could only gather up three hundred crowns with the property endeavour meant she was quite strapped for cash at the moment and the land was really the only valuable thing she could give him at the moment. That said, however, she'd over-gifted him. The land was worth quite a bit more than the spells he'd given her, at least based on the prices she'd quoted to him during their discussion that day.

Chapter 158 - Property Development

The documents were delivered to Claude three days later. Rodan didn't look very cheery when he came with the documents, however.

"What's up with you? You look down."

Rodan sighed and told Claude about his troubles. He had completed the transfer, but had yet to make any progress on buying the property their mistress desired.

He supposed she still thought of it as the town she knew from ten years earlier. She'd not taken into account that the town had continued to grow and develop since her wholesale departure. As such, the kind of property she'd told the two to buy now cost several times more than what she'd posited in her calculations. Rather than buying a number of places with her three hundred crowns, it could barely net them a single building, and not even one on the main street.

No one was in a hurry to sell either. They all knew that, disastrous endeavour thereafter or not, Morssen's Route, as some had started calling it, would bring about a boom in the town hitherto unheard of in the entire country, possibly even this side of the continent. Only a fool would sell right before the gravy wagon arrived.

Claude laughed.

"Did Maria specifically say she wanted a shop on the main street?"

"No."

Rodan was a loyal servant, but he was no realtor. Maria didn't have anybody she could trust beside him, however, so he'd been put in charge of this. Claude decided he should probably do his bit since he would profit from it.

"Have a map of town?"

"Yes."

Rodan took out a map from his sack and put it on the dining table. He had marked every place he'd checked out.

"Give me a pencil."

Claude drew a large circle in the slums by Old Street.

"You should be able to buy there for a more reasonable price. Buy a couple buildings there then put them up as security for a loan from the bank. I doubt they'll complain about a loan from a noble of Maria's status and virtue. Take the money you get from the loan and buy more property. Put them up as security on more loans and keep going until you have as many plots and buildings as Maria wants."

Rodan's eyes were only just barely still in his skull. Could he really do such a thing? He almost wanted to storm off and get to it right away, but his better judgement and natural caution won him back to reason and he decided to think it over properly.

"But she asked me to get places near the main thoroughfares."

"Just build your own--" The pencil drew another line, bisecting the slum. "There's your thoroughfare. After you buy the property, not only can you build a street, you can also use it to build shop lots around that street. Maybe have apartment complexes. If the lady is sure the town will be developed, then there's no need to worry about finding tenants. You're close enough to the docks that the officers will be more than willing to stay there, and if you build them proper apartments fitting of their position, they'll even fight over them."

"B-but... M-madam d-doesn't have enough money for that..."

"She does. She just doesn't know it," Claude cracked a smile, "She doesn't even need to spend her own money either."

Claude pointed out the window.

"Put the wood up as security. She should be able to get more than enough in loans against it. If you play your cards right, you'll make more than double the repayments on the loan."

"F-for how much?" Rodan asked.

"The entire estate is about 470 hectares. If the bank will give you seventy percent of its value, then you should be able to get somewhere between 18 and 20 thousand crowns. Then there's also the fact that you can source most of the material you'll need for the construction from the wood as well, so you save a lot on material's cost."

Rodan twitched like a teenage girl facing her crush.

"I... I can't make a decision like that on the mistress' behalf. You must come back to the capital with me and explain everything to the mistress."

"You should know in what situation I am. I can't leave now. I'll write everything down for you, but I can't go with you."

Claude was really only using his family as a convenient excuse. The reality was he'd been talking way out of his depth. He had not pulled anything out of his arse, but he was far from confident in anything he'd just said. He was at best tangentially aware of a couple of the fundamental workings of property development. Most of it was just him thinking things through logically.

Property development was a completely alien and unthought of idea on Freia, however, so Claude was the closest thing to an expert on the topic. Most exchanges of property was a single, lone sale by a landowner or renting of a piece of property. Developments were made because they were necessary, not because they might bring money in in their own right.

He tried his best to describe his thoughts to his mistress, but putting a thought to paper was far harder, he found, than thinking the thought. It took him the whole night to finish his first draft, and another three hours into the morning to rewrite it properly.

Rodan sat beside him the whole time. He even made him tea, drinks, supper, a midnight munch and more. It made Claude severely uncomfortable, but he didn't have the heart to tell the man to stop.

Awkwardness aside, however, Claude had to admit Rodan was a very convenient one to have around. At the very least, he was an intelligent man, so anything he could not understand Maria probably wouldn't either. He could thus play a great barometer for the palatability of Claude's ideas and explanations. Neither Rodan nor Claude, however, could actually implement the plans if they were approved. Rodan knew next to nothing about the town since he rarely set foot in it even before his mistress had parted with the town. Claude, for his part, didn't have the connections to oil the bureaucratic machine into action. They needed a connected collaborator.

Claude thus suggested they bring a couple local richmen into the fold. He doubted any would object to practically free income.

Rodan worked on the map while Claude put the finishing touches to his proposal, redoing a map of the town and marking key properties for pursuit.

Claude's special comment section was practically all an extolment of the virtues and necessity of a proper fuel and water system. He practically wrote a book on gentrification, he thought when he'd finished. The last half an hour of his work time was spent mostly on calming Rodan down repeatedly as the man hopped around on his chair like child with attention and energy problems.

By the time it was five in the morning, Claude finally finished the whole thing. Rodan clutched his sack of documents as he would a gold-egg-laying goose.

"I'm going to return to the royal capital immediately," the butler said.

Shocked, Claude asked, "Aren't you going to take a bit of rest? You've been working through the night. I'll cook something up for you to fill your stomach."

"That won't be necessary, Master Claude. I have to deliver your plan to the lady as soon as possible. Time is of essence and I worry that we won't have enough of it even if she agrees to the plan."

Claude understood the urgency as well. The 5th month was only one month away. After Stellin X's announcement, all buildings or shop lots in Whitestag would instantly surge in price. Rodan had to rush to the royal capital and back and that would take four to five days at least. If Maria agreed to implement the plan, any wasted time would mean lost money.

So, Rodan returned to his carriage with nothing but some bread and water. He was prepared to drive nonstop and that would probably save them a day's time.

Five days later, Rodan once again appeared before Claude with another of Maria's letter. There was only one sentence in the letter: I'll go with your plan.

Claude smiled bitterly at how he was seeking out trouble on his own accord. But he had no choice. Since the whole thing was kicked off, he might as well go through with it. He could also earn quite a bit of money for himself while he was at it and it would be a rare opportunity. And with Maria backing him, he wouldn't have to worry about being given a hard time.

According to Rodan, Maria wanted seventy percent of the profits. Claude could get ten percent and the rest would be split between whoever he got to play collaborator.

"I'll also put my land up as security as well. I should at least invest a little to earn my shares. We should start by taking out a loan against the farm, so off to town. Come, I have a couple people to which to introduce you."

They were headed for Claude's father's old friends, the ones who'd played co-conspirator in his plans for the disastrous endeavour. The help they could be in this new endeavour was only part of his reason for suggesting their invitation, however. A big part of it was to give him a chance to rebuild his family's position and network in the town as well.

Chapter 159 - Angelina's Secret

Nobody could refuse the olive branch Maria extended their way. The former chief constable, the former treasurer, and Borkal's father all agreed to put their assets up as security for loans. They didn't have much to add after the convoy disaster, so they each only got a percent or two in shares.

Claude had thought about this possibility, however. Nobody was having a great day since the convoy's destruction. Their position was made even worse by the fact that they had not only lost their positions in the government, but that Robert was now calling all the shots on his own. He'd not taken kindly to their years of countermanding him at every turn, and he had an entire garrison under his belt as well. Not to mention that he had Sir Fux's backing as well.

One of his moves after taking power was to introduce two new taxes that affected mainly commercial enterprises. Most households were thus largely unaffected, at least directly, by the new taxes, but it hit the wealthier people in town pretty hard, since their wealth was inevitably tied to commercial enterprises.

His moves were quickly overshadowed by Maria's moves. Mainly her putting Normanley Wood up as security on a loan. Naturally it was something no one was supposed to know about since it was a proprietary, private transaction, but walls were very porous in Whitestag. The bulk of her money, along with the money of 11 other investors, was put into a new company, Normanley Real Estate. The news became even bigger once the new company started buying up every plot of land owned by someone who had even the slightest thought of selling -- especially plots and buildings near the main thoroughfares.

No one knew to what the baroness was up, but real estate became an expensive commodity overnight. Mayor Robert had even requested a meeting with the local representatives of the new company several times to get to the bottom of what was going on, but he was rebuffed at every turn. He eventually managed to got an explanation out of Rodan, however, who simply told him the baroness had decided it was time to clean up her hometown, especially the slums.

Though her co-investors from town could contribute little in terms of money, they did a great deal to smooth the purchases, which resulted in clean acquisitions all around. There were some with whom one couldn't reason, however, no matter how hard one tried.

"It's mostly people who don't have anywhere else to go or are too old to think about moving, even for a handsome sum," Thomas explained in the board of investors' latest meeting.

Claude nodded. He knew there would be people like this, however, and had thought about what to do a long time ago.

"Since finding other places to live is the big issue for them, just give them places. I had Rodan buy that plot of land a little further east in the slums, remember? Build some apartments there and move everyone there. Give them the apartments for free and pay them a smaller sum for their actual homes."

"Why not just promise them houses for once we're done with our little project? We won't have to build a whole new apartment block," someone suggested.

"It'd be cheaper to build a single apartment block than a bunch of houses. Not to mention that the area we're talking about is going to be built into a fancy neighbourhood, if we give them houses there we lose three ways. First off, we lose houses we could have sold for handsome prices, then we lose out because we have to build them houses of appropriate grandeur to the neighbourhood, and we lose future rent from the apartments."

Profit spoke louder than words, and everyone immediately agreed.

"Alright, I'll go talk to them again," Thomas said, turning to leave.

"A moment," Claude called, "If they still don't want to budge, offer them shop lots in the west of the slums. We were going to sell those off from the beginning, so we don't lose as much."

"Okay."

The townsfolk were positively bursting with curiosity at what Normanley Real Estate was doing. They didn't have to wait too long to get a peek at what was planned for the slums. The company posted posters and boards of their plans for the slums soon after finishing their acquisition of the entire area. The town practically exploded at the news, especially when it was revealed that most of the town's rich and elite had already purchased houses yet to be built.

Claude couldn't break away from his work. Fortunately, his mother had recovered and took over running the house so he was free to focus on things other than cooking, cleaning, and washing. He'd also gotten the company to a place where he didn't have to be actively involved too much. He'd left Rodan to run it in his place, and hired Kefnie on as his secretary.

An entire quarter of the town now belonged to Normanley Real Estate, and soon the new buildings started springing up like mushrooms. Claude focused instead on finding more talented individuals he could hire to fill various positions in the company.

The month flashed by while the crew reworked most of the town and the 5th month broke day. With it, Welikro came for a visit. The young man didn't waste words, he placed his ceremonial short sword in Claude's hands before even greeting him.

"What're you doing?" Claude asked.

Welikro loved this particular sword. He was almost never separate from it.

"I have to leave..." his friend sighed.

"Why?"

"I have to go to the capital. My dad offended Mayor Robert, and he's been setting Butcher Bill and his goons on us. My dad knows I have no future in town as long as that bastard sits in the mayor's seat, so he wrote an old commander of his about our predicament and he secured my enlistment in my dad's old unit. We're all leaving for the capital tomorrow when our passports arrive. I came by to say goodbye."

Claude didn't know what to say. He'd known Welikro's father had offended the mayor when he refused to play along with his schemes where the garrison was concerned, but he'd thought the score would have been settled when Kubrik was excluded from the garrison. He didn't think they'd keep making trouble for him afterwards, but Welikro explained they'd kept harassing his father whenever he went in to town to sell his catch, often confiscating everything on some technicality or a blatantly false accusation.

Claude's lightbulb went on and he finally understood why the man had not taken him up on his offer of investment. He wanted nothing to do with Whitestag anymore, especially not with any business in town since he would be leaving, and moving so far away as well.

"I should congratulate you," Claude said cheerfully, though his eyes betrayed his melancholy.

Borkal had also left, and ironically also for the army, and Eriksson had completely shunned him. Now Welikro was leaving as well.

"Your whole family is leaving?" Claude asked.

"Yes. The old commander my dad wrote also got him a job as a bodyguard for one of the nobles he knows. The pay's good, and we won't have trouble from that bastard mayor anymore, so we're all going. Not to mention Dad is hoping with a larger pool of men he can find a husband for my sister."

Claude wanted to give Welikro something in return for his precious sword, but he couldn't find anything.

"When are you leaving? I'll send you--"

"--No need, we're leaving first thing tomorrow morning. We've already packed. We won't even come through town. I'll write once I settle down. Don't you dare not write back!"

Welikro cracked a smile. A long moment passed, then he gave Claude a tight bear hug and left.

Claude sent him off as far as he would let him, then went and picked up his sister before heading home. His mother brought up her woes at trying to go to town to shop yet again during dinner. Claude was gone with the only carriage they had for the entire day. They did have another on the estate, but it belonged to the Sioris, and they were now using it all the time thanks to once again having to manage the estate on their own.

Claude decided to buy another carriage for them at some point.

Rodan had not taken up residence on the estate, choosing instead to live in one of the better houses the company had procured in town.

"I'll go look for a carriage tomorrow," Claude decided, "I'll have the carpenters and builders come build us a shed later, too."

Claude popped into his study for the first time in a while after everyone had turned in for the night. His progress with magic and herbal medicine had all but come to a halt since his family had moved in.

At least he'd finally dealt with the worst of the work where the company was concerned. Rodan could handle most of what was left.

He heard a knock on the door and opened it to find his sister, pale, behind it.

"Why aren't you asleep yet? Don't you have school tomorrow?" he asked, an involuntary, friendly smile blooming on his face.

"Tomorrow's Sunday," she answered.

"Ah," Claude's eyes wandered to her hands, where he saw her clutching the cookbook. "--Oh, there it is! I was wondering where it'd gone."

He reached for the book, but Angelina took a step back, clutching the book tightly to her bosom.

"There... there are blue words written in it..." she muttered.

Chapter 160 - Angelina Wants to Learn Magic

Angelina was practically whispering, as if she was afraid someone might hear. Despite that, her words thundered in Claude's ears. He snapped around and almost yelled.

"YOU-- You can see the blue Ancient Hez text as well?!"

His little sister jumped and her jaw hit the floor. She recovered a moment later and hugged the book even tighter.

Claude knelt in front of her and spoke gently.

"How did you do it?"

"Y-you left the book with me. I couldn't sleep one night so I started reading it. A couple pages into it I started seeing dark blue words pop up. They look just like the Ancient Hez we're learning at school... Wait, how did you know it's Ancient Hez?"

Claude smiled half-awkwardly at his little sister. She was both as witty and as talented as he was when it came to magic, he realised.

"Only people who can become a magus can see these words..." Claude whispered, stroking his little sister's head.

She grabbed her mouth with one hand to swallow her gasp, but her words garbled through her fingers to Claude's ears.

"Ma... gus... Those evil people in the books that wear black robes and white masks? The ones who do bad things and kidnap princesses?"

Claude had to admit that when it came to reading wild stories, his sister had him beat. The only thing those characters had in common with real magi was that they both used magic, though completely different kinds. The character were more clowns than magi. Besides the question of where all these supposedly kidnapped and rescued princesses were, he doubted a magus would kidnap a princess and then do nothing to or with her, often for months, sometimes for years, while the hero quested to rescue her.

"Don't believe made-up stories. Not all magi are evil. They're people just like the rest of us. Some are good and some are bad."

"B-but how do you know?" the girl pressed, "Everyone I know says they're evil."

"Have you ever seen a magus before?"

"Well... Nobody would walk out in the streets with a white mask and a black robe."

"Haha, even magi wouldn't be stupid enough to do that. Most of them live like normal people. They're like you and me, they need to eat, sleep, work, buy clothes, and so on. If they don't show you any magic, you'll never know that they're magi."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"But you said I had a talent for magic... Will I become an evil magus? I'm... I'm really scared."

He stroked her face gently.

"What are you scared of? You won't become a magus just because you have some talent for magic. You don't have to. Having talent is only the first step. After that, you'll have to train hard to meditate. You have to endure loneliness and live a life of secrecy, never telling anybody about your training. And you'll only be able to use some basic spells after you become a first-ranked rune magus. Only then can you truly be considered one."

"W-why do you know so much?"

Claude opened his hand and a bright, white ball flashed into existence above his palm.

"Beautiful..." his sister whispered, staring at the ball like a moth drawn to a flame.

Wasn't she supposed to be shocked at seeing magic? She should be freaking out at the very least. He had to stop her from waking his mother and brother. How did women's minds work? Why did they pay attention to whether something was pretty or not? Wasn't it only a white ball? There was nothing amazing about it.

Claude had forgotten the expression of shock he'd shown Maria when she first used the same spell in front of him. He'd not done much better than his sister.

The ball slowly rose to the roof and illuminated the whole ceiling.

She stared at the ball for a good while and finally looked away with satisfaction.

"That's great! It's so bright! We don't have to use candles anymore."

Well, at the very least, the first thing that's on her mind is how to save cost for our family. We really did raise her well.

"...W-why do you know magic?"

He shrugged.

"I'm a magus. Actually, I was taught this spell by Lady Maria. She's a magus as well."

"So that's why she's been so generous to you!"

"It's not that simple, Anna. Magi aren't always friendly to one another. Sit down. I'll tell you some more."

His sister didn't know that the real reason Maria gave him all that property was because he gave her the formation diagrams of the four forbidden spells.

"I learned I had a talent for magic from the cookbook as well. I translated the text and found a lead which let me start training magic. I got to know Lady Maria thanks to a coincidence. I saved her life with magic, which she noticed since she's a magus as well."

Claude chuckled.

"I was thinking of killing her to keep my secret. If people realised I'm a magus, it'd be over for me. I'm not willing to be caught and accused to be an evil magus. Little did I know that she was one too and she saw through me right away and invited me to her residence as a guest. That's when she showed me the spells she learned. Look, that's one of them."

He pointed at the floating white ball of light and continued, "I'm really thankful for Lady Maria. Even though she's not the same type of magus as I am, she did guide me on a lot of important things after we met. I was lucky that the first magus I got to know was her. She didn't have any ulterior motives nor ill intentions at all. She tried her best to help me by making me the supervisor of the wood so that nobody would disturb my magical training."

Claude then sighed. "Anna, you're not wrong in a sense. Some magi are evil too. The second magus I met was just like that. He wanted to rob me and steal the precious magical materials I just bought. We fought for our lives and I was the last one standing. That's why I trust Lady Maria so much. If she had meant ill towards me back then, I would've lost my life long ago."

The girl's eyes widened as if she was being told the epic tales from the Arabian Nights. That her brother was actually a magus was probably too big a shock for her young mind to bear. But when she looked up at the ball of light, she thought, how beautiful... So magic can be that pretty as well...

"Anna, do you think I'm evil?" Claude asked.

She shook her head. Claude was currently the relative she relied on most. Even if he was a magus, it wouldn't matter. He wasn't evil as far as she was concerned!

"Oh, by the way, did you show anyone the cookbook? Did you tell anyone that you can see the blue Ancient Hez text inside?"

"No. The first time I saw it, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. It was only later that I truly saw the change. After I stare long enough, the words would appear and it wasn't a dream. I showed it to Blowk, but he said I was lying to him and even wanted to tear the cookbook into shreds. So I took it back and didn't tell anybody else..."

Claude stroked her hair once more. "Never tell anyone about this in the future. Don't let anybody know you have magic talent either. This isn't a good thing. If you get found out, lots of bad things will happen. Just like your classmates, everyone is afraid of magi. Oh, and you must keep my status as a magus a secret too, alright? You can't even tell mom or Blowk about it. Can you do that?"

She nodded with certainty. "Don't worry, I won't say anything."

"Haha, very well. Remember, this is a secret between the two of us. Nobody but us can know. Alright, it's getting late, so you should go get some sleep."

She hummed her agreement and headed for the door. But just before she opened it, she turned back. "C-can... can I learn magic too? I want to become a magus like you..."

Claude walked over and bent downwards to look into her large eyes filled with innocence. "Anna, you have to think about this properly. Becoming a magus isn't something worth boasting about. In fact, it would be best if nobody knows about it, just like how you didn't know that I was one back then. Maybe you might have powers normal people don't have if you become a magus, but similarly, you will have to face the risks those powers come with. Your life might even be in danger."

He pointed at the ball of light.

"Magic is not just for show. It can be dangerous and cost lives too. If you are certain you want to become a magus, then you will have to prepare and train long and hard. You're not going to succeed overnight. It's not something as simple as training either. I'll give you three days to think properly about it. If you really want to become a magus, I'll teach you everything I know, understood?"

She hummed again, this time with a lower pitch, before she left.

Claude lost all interest in performing alchemical experiments. He sat back into the couch and listened to Angelina's rhythmic steps as she headed upstairs, before sighing.

Welikro's farewell during the afternoon gave him a bad omen. He felt that the time he had to leave Whitestag was coming soon. While he didn't really care where he would be sent, his mother and siblings were people he couldn't just let go of. They were his family in this completely foreign world, his flesh and blood.

If possible, he wouldn't want to serve in the military. However, he was but a common peasant that wouldn't be able to escape the fate of being dragged to the frontlines and used as cannon fodder. Even though he had become a magus, he didn't have any power to go against the decrees of the kingdom. If history was a wheel that rolled forwards, Claude felt that he would be the ant in front of that wheel. He would easily be crushed by its weight on his back.

It was that feeling of foreboding that caused Claude to reveal his identity as a magus to his sister. Angelina's talent for magic was a surprise no doubt. Perhaps that way, she would be able to protect the household with her newfound powers after he left.

It looked like Angelina didn't need three days to think about it at all. During the same time the next day, she knocked on his study and entered with her eyes looking more resolute than ever. "Claude, I've decided that I want to become a magus like you."

Chapter 161 - Whitestag in the Fifth Month

Claude wasn't that against his sister's wish to learn magic. He took out the translated copy of the diary in the cookbook and showed it to his sister while explaining some of the basic history recorded within. He then took out Landes' two diaries and notebook and told her how to learn from them. And, finally, he revealed why he'd really gone to Egret. His little sister had lost the ability to gasp by the end of the whole story.

She accepted the books, then listened to his lecture on the differences between rune magi and battlemagi, which was swiftly followed by a rehash of what he's learned from his teacher about the kingdom's situation, and that of the broader continent, where magi and magic was concerned.

Angelina's desire to become a magus had not wavered by the end, so Claude accepted that she was going to walk a similar path to his own. He took the one book back from her, opened it, and explained hexagram meditation.

From the shape of the hexagram she had to engrave in her void space and how she should use her mental power to selectively draw in essence photons of her element into the hexagram, Claude did his best to guide his sister through everything.

He also watched over her first meditation session, and she took just an hour to complete it. Claude supposed this had to mean she also had a decent talent for it. With her hexagram completed as well, they finally knew what affinity she had. It turned out her affinity was for water as the essence photons which gathered the quickest for her were blue.

It was quit the damper for Claude, as it meant he could not help her much more than he already had, and most importantly, he didn't have any special spells for her. The minor upside, well, it honestly wasn't that small of an upside if not compared to the textbooks, was that Claude's teacher and mistress also had an affinity for water.

When Claude recalled this fact, an idea blossomed in his mind.

"Do you want to learn herbal medicine?"

"Herbal medicine?"

"Yes. It's a great supplement to magic studies, and it'll help you learn about magic material and some of the basic alchemical techniques. Take a look at that potion over there. You can't get potions on the market, only concoctions, but if you combine your ability and knowledge for magic, and the skills and techniques you'll learn from herbal medicine, you can concoct these yourself. Becoming an apothecary is also a great cover for being a magus, since you'll be working with much of the same materials."

"Let me try learning herbal medicine, then. I'm not sure if I'll like it though."

"It's fine. When you're free, just read some of the books on the subject in the lab and understand the basics of the field and its scope. Most importantly, you have to read up on the different materials and herbs and their properties. All you have to be able to do is to differentiate freshly picked herbs and learn how to treat them properly. That's all I'm expecting from you now.

"Additionally, as you train in meditation, make sure not to forget your studies in Ancient Hez. You must be incredibly familiar with the words and grammar and as fluent as you are in Hebrai. All the ancient, and therefore important, magic tomes are written in Ancient Hez.

"Incantations and runes are also all written in it. What they teach you in middle-school isn't anywhere near enough, either. You have to study it on your own as well.

"I bought a couple books on the pronunciation and vocabulary for the language back then to teach it to myself. I'll give them to you. You can ask me anything if you need help. You don't have to rush all that though. You're young and still have time. Don't regret wanting to become a magus just because of all the things you have to learn. Nothing in this world comes without effort, and you have to strive hard if you want to succeed. No pain, no gain, got it?"

"I understand, I'll do my best." She hugged the books and went back into her room upstairs.

After the matter with his sister was done for, Claude continued to busy himself with the development efforts. Under his direction, almost all of the youths in the slums were hired by Normanley Real Estate. The construction team of more than a thousand people got Rodan screaming about its unsustainability, as Claude specified that each worker had to be paid a high salary of two thales. In total, the salary that would be paid to them would total five hundred crowns.

However, there was no choice. This world wasn't like Claude's former one. Every single youth was a reserve soldier waiting to be conscripted. The most troublesome part was that the various nations tried their utmost ability to restrict the freedoms of their subjects, which could be observed from how they weren't allowed to move as they pleased or travel around in the kingdom freely. It was only after Thomas' reminder that Claude was reminded that there were no farmers coming to the cities to work during the off season. If he didn't prepare the workforce in advance, he likely wouldn't be able to get enough people to work when the project began in earnest.

So far, the work at the slums still wasn't properly started, mainly because most of the work concerned flattening the land, tearing down the old buildings and moving the materials somewhere near to site. Workers were also needed to fell trees at Normanley Wood. Additionally, Rodan had to contact the mines and quarries to supply large amounts of red bricks and purchase sand and stones, cement, ropes, clay and other related materials.

Their funds were running out fast, so Rodan had come to consult Claude about his worries.

"It's fine. We can split the construction of the eastern sector into three phases. First, we finish the buildings in phase one. After we sell them away, we'll have enough for phase two or three buildings. There's no need to have everything readily constructed before selling them off. Maybe, we can even have prospective buyers pay half of the cost of the house first and collect the rest after the construction is finished," Claude confidently said.

With two-thirds of the slums in hand, Claude wasn't worried about anything else. The money they had with them was enough to finish up phases one and two at least. If Maria's leak about Stellin X declaring the development of Whitestag into a military city was true, the price of land and property would no doubt skyrocket. The earnings from the buildings of the first phase alone was enough to help the whole project break even. What remained would be nothing but profit. The real estate industry in his past life was just as, if not more, profitable, after all.

On the 12th day of the 5th month, twelve class two and three naval ships anchored down in Lake Balinga. Rumor had it that they were the first group of ships sent to take care of the piracy problem. They had received orders to gather at Whitestag and the townsfolk frantically gathered at the docks to witness the prestige of the royal navy.

On the 15th day, Stellin X went to the Council of Dignitarians and declared the reclamation of Whitestag under royal family control and its subsequent rise in status to that of a city, as well as his plans to develop it. However, he left out the details of making it a base for the navy.

At the same time, an envoy was sent to Whitestag from the royal capital one day before and read out the decree of Stellin X at the town hall before all the officials. It appeared to be rather delightful news for them as, from that moment onward, they were equals of those lofty and prideful bureaucrats at Baromiss, the prefectural capital. Their salary and bonuses increased greatly.

The most excited one was no doubt Mayor Robert. Never did he dream that he would be mayor of a whole city. He now felt that the huge price he paid to be made mayor of the town was more than worth it. If he could contribute to Whitestag's development and gain dignity through that process, he might earn the capital's favor and his Title of baron might be allowed to be passed down for three more generations.

Granted, opportunities to make money were far from lacking during a time rife with growth. The mayor already had the advantage of total control over the town hall and he believed that anybody that came from the royal capital to seek opportunity would have to cooperate with him. Perhaps he would be able to get in touch with the rich and powerful in the royal capital and get someone to back him.

In stark contrast to the mayor, Sir Fux appeared rather crestfallen. The change in status of Whitestag to a city meant that he would no longer be the only dignitarian council member in town. According to the regulations of elected representatives, any city in the kingdom had to be represented by three members of the Council of Dignitarians. In other words, Whitestag would have three of those in the coming year and that was akin to Sir Fux losing two-thirds of his power in town. How could he not be in a bad mood?

However, he did finally understand why Maria invested so much into the slums and tried to develop it. He almost couldn't suppress the urge to curse her for not asking him to join in on such a profitable venture. She didn't hold him in the slightest regard at all. Alas, all he could do about it was whine alone in his study. He knew that Maria was far from someone he could deal with.

It was one thing for the other members of the town hall to ignore Maria. They were ignorant to her real status in the first place. But Sir Fux knew the sway she held in the royal capital. As a council member, even though he had great influence in the town hall to the point that the local officials had to bow and greet him, he was but a teeny little insect in the eyes of the citizens in the capital. Had Maria not helped him out on account that he was from her hometown in the first place, he might not have gained a seat in the Council of Dignitarians.

So there was nothing he could do if Maria didn't want him to be part of the venture. Whitestag was now under the jurisdiction of the royal capital and Sir Fux could no longer solve problems by getting the senior bureaucrats in the prefectural capital to deal with it. The prefectural capital no longer had any say on what happened within Whitestag.

Since he didn't dare to offend Maria, the least he could do was try to mimic her. He sought out the mayor and also decided to form a real estate development company and set his sights on the western part of the slums. He also agreed to give Bidlir a couple shares so he could include their territory, Old Street, in their plans. It would also convenience much of the 'relocation efforts' of those who lived there.

What Sir Fux and Mayor Robert didn't expect was that as Butcher Bill commanded his henchmen to move away from the slums and caused the residents there to boil with anger, a tribe of troops was sent out from the ships on Balinga. They shut down the entire slum and chased Bidlir out. A few officers were also sent to town and declared the slums part pf the naval base.

Robert was dumbfounded. What of his new company? Would he be reimbursed for the land he'd already bought?

One officer took out a document and read it on the spot. Any transactions made concerning the slums before the 15th the month would stand, whilst anything done afterwards would be void. The transactions would not be acknowledged. Compensation would thus only be paid to the owners of the land in the slums as they were registered on the 15th.

All of Robert's purchases had been made after the 15th, so he would thus get nothing. Sir Fux came over later that day and asked about the portion of the slums being developed by Normanley Real Estate. The officer merely told him that, while they were be incorporated that land into the naval base as well, since the development was already well underway, they would work with the company on the development and handle matters of ownership later rather than force things now while work was already under way.

Chapter 162 - Confusion and Change

If Sir Fux and Mayor Robert knew the cooperation plan was actually the navy buying out the entire sector, he might just have thrown up a mouthful of blood. The naval officers had long met with Rodan. A couple even knew him from the capital.

The officer in charge of setting the naval base's construction was quite satisfied with the company's efforts in the area. It was all but exactly what they'd been planning to do, on a less luxurious scale, of course. Their work had only just begun, but the navy had no problem paying them a 200-thousand-crown deposit up front.

After everything was done, the navy would have paid them 300 thousand crowns, netting the company 80 thousand in profits. The navy was more than happy to pay since it saved them having to do the labour themselves. They wouldn't have been able to build the same for much cheaper, and this setup freed up their men for more important things. Most importantly, though it wasn't really a fair comparison, the whole project was about the same size as Port Neru, the kingdom's other major port, but it cost them only about a third.

The company's investors were ecstatic. They'd sold off their project before the work had even gotten on its proper way. A couple nearly fainted at the thought of being in possession of so many crowns, even if most of it would end up going to covering costs.

The funds they'd put up so far was just around 30 thousand. And now they'd already made 200 thousand. Again, most of it would still be needed to cover the upcoming costs, but that was still ridiculous.

"We'll keep 100 thousand as the company's capital. The rest of the project will draw from that. We'll pay of the rest of the loans now to minimise our interest. What's left we'll split with the shareholders. Any thoughts?" Claude asked.

No one objected. This was the fastest anyone had made money in Whitestag in all its centuries of existence.

"We shouldn't disband the company once this is finished. Rodan, take the viscount, the man in command of the base, around town. If things go well, we might just sign a couple more contracts with him for the western slums. Try for sole-proprietor contracts, but it's okay if we have to settle for co-development. We'll still make a decent profit."

Rodan slapped his thigh, nearly jumping to his feet.

"Of course! Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

Bidlir and his ilk were not celebrating. He'd lost everything he'd worked on with the Blacksnakes for so many years. On top of that his latest endeavour, the business with the garrison, had come up with nothing as well. All the weapons he could get in town were worth nothing with the damned navy all over the place.

It was a catastrophe. He felt like an abandoned orphan. Even as Sir Fux and Mayor Robert expressed their sympathies for his losses, they were powerless to help. One was a politician and the other a minor bureaucrat. Neither could do much against the navy.

Bidlir had suffered a severe loss. Most of his money had been invested in the slums, mostly in property such as the fish plant. He'd gotten a fair price for them, really, but that had been a fair price before the prices tripled with Normanely Real Estate's meddling.

The most hateful part was the loss of his establishments which had come to make up most of his steady income. He'd not just lost property, but a dozen sources of income as well. He could do nothing but quietly accept it, however. A big crime boss in Whitestag he might be, but he was less than an ant in the grand scheme of things in the kingdom.

He couldn't even use the fact that that particular building had been a gambling den to jack up the price even a little since such establishments were illegal. All he'd get for doing that was prison, if he was lucky. The most he could do was feign ignorant. Fortunately, the old warehouse was officially owned by the crippled father of one of his generals. As long as he kept his mouth shut if the shit hit the shrine bell, none of it would come flying his way.

Speaking of generals, his gang no longer existed. The navy had showed up, sealed the slums, and all but conscripted his entire enterprise out of existence. He supposed he should thank his lucky stars he was already part of the local garrison or they might just have come for him as well.

Bidlir Blanche could only watch from the entrance of the slums the ferocious soldiers of the ground forces barging into one building after another and dragging the men out from within to a spot to be checked. Those with jobs were separated and their employers had to verify their employment status. Those without proper or permanent employment as well as the ship hands for the fishers were forcefully conscripted into the navy as the lowest-ranked soldiers.

Around a thousand men, roughly a third of Blacksnake's members, were taken away just like that. They didn't have proper jobs and a few fugitive murderers tried to resist. It was soon reciprocated with drawn blades and lined gun formations. Wounds were made and blood was spilled all across the main street. After that, they were dragged away to be decapitated. Soon, around eight bloody heads were hung up high at the old street. Those who weren't willing to be conscripted at first soon shut up and the noisy crowd got much more orderly.

Bidlir recalled that he handed a second lieutenant of the navy a pack of smoke leaves and smoked together with him to get familiar. He wanted to know what the fates of the unwilling conscripts would be and ask whether they would soon be assigned to the warships of the navy.

The second lieutenant casually said they would become logistics units, labourers, for the navy in town. They would not officially be part of the military in the sense of being soldiers. A couple might be chosen for official enlistment, however, but the majority would just be employed civilian labour.

Bidlir asked about what would happen to those that were not picked for enlistment, hoping he might be able to rebuild his little gang once they were set free.

"They'll all eventually end up enlisted. We can make anyone fit, and we will with this group as well. It might just take a little longer for some of them."

Just like that, Bidlir lost his territory and minions. His property was appropriated for the construction of the naval base and he became the paragon of a patriot who gave everything for the nation. Apart from the compensation paid to his bank account and his 40 or so Blacksnake thugs he took into the fourth band, Bidlir had nothing else. He even lost his house and had no choice but to live in the encampment.

Perhaps feeling sorry for his fate, Sir Fux and Mayor Robert reached out to the chief officer of the naval base, Viscount Wenisk, and managed to get the navy to hold a grand award ceremony. Bidlir Blanche was given an order of merit for his contributions and hailed as an exemplary patriot. Even though he lost everything, his identity got a clean slate. But he wasn't sure whether the price paid was worth what he got.

The biggest news in town during the 6th month was the controversy concerning Mayor Robert. The auditors from the finance department in the royal capital discovered that the records of the town hall across the past two years were a complete mess following Mayor Robert's takeover. The accounts began to blur and appear flawed, with more than ten withdrawals of varying amounts made for dubious purposes. The invoices included didn't match up with what the accounts stated. Even though the account was technically balanced, there were obvious signs of tampering.

The auditors from the finance department were really prolific in their work. While they appeared to be not up to much, they were actually ravenously uncovering one lead after another. Soon, Mayor Robert's collusion with the staff of the treasury for the fake accounts was discovered and reported, causing enforcers from the royal capital to come to town to arrest the mayor and relieve him of his position.

Robert gave his best effort following the announcement of what was planned in Whitestag in an attempt to brighten his future path. He cooperated flawlessly with the appropriation of property, construction efforts, as well as the transition of the town hall to personnel from the royal capital.

In the months following the sacking of the chief secretary, chief treasurer, and chief constable of town, he was running a one-man show in the town hall. Given that he was the sole arbiter in the runnings of the town, it was almost inevitable that he commit some atrocious acts during that term. He treated the treasury as his personal vault and embezzled funds as he pleased.

Only after the announcement from the royal capital did he start to panic and hurry to cover up his tracks. But given the amount of time that had passed, he forgot where most of his spending went to, so he could only make up for it in the accounts according to the total figure. If the prefectural capital was still in charge of Whitestag, Robert might've been able to barely make it through his predicament. All he had to do was to bribe the auditors from the prefectural capital and treat them to some meals.

The auditors that came this time, however, were from the royal capital. The only benefit they wanted was promotions that came with doing their jobs properly and solving cases like these. Robert's tricks were completely useless against them. The fact that many were eyeing Robert's position in Whitestag, a city soon to be under royal capital jurisdiction, didn't help matters either.

Claude didn't feel much upon hearing about Robert's arrest. Thomas and the former treasurer on the other hand were basked in sublime jubilation and they celebrated by drinking to the high heavens.

Chapter 163 - Mayor Felidos

A group of new arrivals showed up in town in the beginning of the 7th month, including a one-armed noble slated to take over as the now city's new mayor. According to Rodan, Viscount Felidos Kor Finadi was an old friend of Maria's. Also a war hero.

He'd won his accolades during the kingdom's last war with Nasri. He'd served as the commander of the 7th Cavalry Line, responsible for cutting off the enemy's retreat during one of the final actions of the war.

The enemy discovered their movements, however, and acted to stop them. Knowing the land the 7th had occupied was their only escape route, the enemy had fought to clear the route with all their strength, nearly wiping out the entire line. He would not give way, however, and his men fought alongside him until they ran out of gunpowder, then drew their swords and continued on. The enemy was the first to break, and just as his men were at their own breaking point.

But the enemy hadn't given up. They brought one of their cannons to bear on his positions, and started shelling. Regardless, his men held the ground until the enemy was defeated by Aueras' main force.

During all this, Felidos had led from the frontlines. Even after one of the shells shot off his left arm. He merely told the line medic to wrap it tight, and returned to his position, undaunted by the pain.

By the end of the battle, he had just 374 men left of his original complement of 2400. The defeat he'd bought for the enemy in turn, however, was so devastating  that they sued for peace and ceded three prefectures.

In recognition of his efforts, the king made him a viscount and a national hero.

Rodan suspected Felidos was another run-of-the-mill, iron-blooded military man, an expert at cavalry charges. That, however, also made him a very stubborn bastard. His superiority complex when it came to Aueras didn't help matters much either. He believed Auerans were inherently superior to all other peoples, and had an inherent, some said he used the word 'gods-given' right to rule over others. He'd taken to calling for a grand crusade to unify at least the eastern half of the continent under superior Aueran rule in recent years as well.

Felidos wasn't the least bit surprised at being given his latest appointment, nor was he at all unhappy. He revelled in power, loyal as he was to the royal family and specifically the king, and this position gave him ample amounts of it. As a royal appointee to his position, and given the merit of his position in its own right as the mayor of a city under direct royal rule, even the naval wet-rags that called themselves admirals had to tread lightly around him. He did not have a penchant for sharing his power either, taking command of the entire municipal government on his own, and declaring himself the governor of all its departments.

His military background showed, too, as he was quick to rally the garrison. He had both good and bad news. The good news was that the garrison would be made into the core of the city's new keeper force. The bad news, however, was that, at least for the time being, they wouldn't be in the city. Instead, they had to head to the abandoned outpost to rebuild it. Once completed, it would become their headquarters. As keepers, they had little direct role in the day-to-day matters of safety and order in the city. That was the constabulary's job.

Felidos spent most of his afternoon dealing with this, then returned to town hall and started looking into Normanley Real Estate. He had a particular interest in their construction efforts in the former slums. He even visited the sites and peppered the builders and the company's representative with questions.

He apparently took issue with a couple of the buildings, though none of the other people had any idea what problems he had. Upon inquiry, he said he'd been tipped that there was untoward dealings between the company and the navy, and that he'd come to get to the bottom of it. He was happy to inform them, however, that he'd concluded the tip had been a false flag, perhaps made by someone with malicious intentions towards the company. If anything, they'd done their job too well. Their designs for the slums were better than most of the noble districts in the royal capital.

Rather than taking the company to task for bloating their prices, he should take the navy to task for underpaying for what they got.

Everyone smiled brightly as he prepared to leave. Before he did, however, Rodan made sure to introduce Claude to him, with all the usual bells and whistles of a formal introduction, such as a quick biography of his life, how he'd come into the baroness' sphere, and what he'd been up to since, especially the bit about this whole business being his sole idea.

Despite his appreciation for their work in the district, he had little apparent interest in Claude's life story, aside from the fact that he'd graduated top of his class from the physical course. He actually tried to recruit him into the military on its behalf right there, even suggesting they should go to the camp and enlist him that very moment.

Claude nearly had a fit. Luckily he had the excuse of having to take care of his family to wiggle out of the situation. He couldn't very well go against a viscount, especially not one so closely tied to his mistress, and the town's new mayor on top of that. He had to make several vows to enlist the moment there was even just a whiff of war in the air before Felidos would leave him be.

The comment reminded Felidos about what had happened to the boy's father, and he lamented his death, though Claude got the distinct feeling he lamented it more because it kept Claude from enlisting than out of any real sympathy for him or his family.

The whole conversation made it into the following day's edition of the Whitestag Dawn, where the writers had gotten news of the conversation, Claude could only guess.

The navy had been somewhat reluctant to grant the company another contract for the western portion of the slums, but with Viscount Felidos' approval and encouragement, their reluctance vanished and the contract was seen signed.

"Well, that takes care of our employment for the next four years," Rodan said, sinking back into his seat.

The navy was not just going to build their new port, they were also going to extensively renovate and expand the town's system of canals, as well as build expand the causeway connecting Balinga with Sharkmouth Bay.

The important thing was that, if work in the slums was concluded to satisfaction, they weren't averse to giving the contract for the canals and causeway to the company as well.

"What about the civilian docks, or the military port?" Thomas asked.

"It wasn't mentioned," Rodan said meaningfully, "I doubt they'd let a civilian contractor build their actual military installations. They have their own standards and techniques, not to mention the issue of secrecy.

"Speaking of things. We need to speed up our work. Claude, can you start working on the plans for the western slums? I'd like to get started with the prepwork for the construction while we're still busy with the eastern slums. We don't need so many people working the same project. They just get in each other's way."

"No problem," Claude answered.

Claude got another letter from Maria later that month. She'd gone a little mad from all the profits they'd made already. Her personal fortune had swollen by 70 thousand crowns in just a couple months. No one in her family had ever owned such a sum of money; she doubted even some of the richest nobles could scoff at her fortune now, especially not when, though they were probably still quite a fair bit richer than her, they had built their fortune up over many generations, while her's had taken her just four months.

It had taken her three days and several hundred crowns of shopping to calm down. Her letter also included a certificate of payment from the bank. She'd paid off the debt his father had owed Sir Fux at the time of his death, the debt Bloweyk had inherited.

Her thoughts on Claude and the military were the exact opposite of Viscount Felidos'. She thought him having anything to do with the military would be a massive waste for him personally and a loss for the kingdom. She said she would ask the king to exempt him from the draft. It wasn't as easy as asking and receiving, however. By the king's father's own doing, the king was bound as much by the kingdom's laws as his subjects, so it was a difficult process to grant exemptions of any kind, much less a military one. It wasn't impossible, far from it, just difficult, and it would take time.

She finally informed him of a planned visit to the town in two months. She'd stay for a fortnight before returning to the capital. She hoped she could bring him, if not the exemption itself, at least good news in its regard then.

Chapter 164 - Doing Wrong with Good Intentions

Claude understood the meaning of doing wrong with good intentions from Maria's letter. Given that there was a dividend of 100 thousand crowns, Maria's cut was 70 thousand because of her shares and the joy almost drove her insane. She never imagined she could, much less would, earn so much in just three months. When she'd set out on this endeavour, she'd hoped to make maybe a thousand crowns.

Claude's interference had once again blown something small up into something enormous. It was so unearthly to his mistress, she'd spent at least a week checking every book on law and every friend versed in contract law she had and knew to make sure the deal with the navy was legal. Regardless, Maria still now considered Claude an absolute genius. He had managed to find her a kingdom's riches in a small town nobody had even bothered knowing about before.

Rodan and the other investors of the company had their eyes narrowly focused on the construction of the naval base. But Maria was unlike them. She was already contemplating doing the same thing in the capital, and maybe every other city in the kingdom. If she could do that, House Normanley would, in one step, become the greatest house in the entirety of the kingdom, possible rivalling even several royal houses.

Having noticed Claude's importance, she'd taken every step to deal with every problem he had, namely the debt his family owed Sir Fux. She had every mind to bind the two of them together for the rest of their lives one way or another, and gratitude was a great adhesive.

For his part, Claude owned a tenth of the company, his profit was thus 10 thousand crowns. Five hundred removed for the debt his family owed Sir Fux, he still had a fortune on his hands. He had not been planning to pay that back, however, but unfortunately his mistress had ruined his plans. He could not blame her though; her intentions were nothing but good.

He was quite troubled over the exemption she was trying to get him, however. Only true talents were exempt from such a service, mostly they were the sons of great artisan houses with exceptional talent of their own. All he'd done was some good business, not to mention that she'd already paid him back.

He was not opposed to being exempt from military service, but he wasn't too keen on having a path to social advancement cut off from him. He would be forced to rely on his mistress for the rest of his life, and, good as their relationship was, he was not one to be dependent on others.

On top of that, the kingdom's people worshipped the strong. Even the offspring of nobles had to prove their worth in the military, even though they were dignitarians by birth. The heirs of nobles especially were expected to prove their character on the battlefield, or at least through long years of service in peacetime, before they were accepted by their peers and subjects. Any noble with any political ambition also had to serve his time in the military, as it was a requirement to be eligible to join any of the councils.

Claude didn't think about it too much, however. He doubted his mistress would get an exemption for him that easily. Unusual as making a hundred thousand in profits from a single endeavour in three months was, it was not, at least in his mind, enough to qualify him for such an exemption.

He'd read about an artist in the town newspaper once. Wecks-something-something. He won a regional art competition and the town praised him as the next divine artist. He went on to become one of the 'Ten Sages' in painting, but, despite that, he was still served a draft order during the last war.

He decided he would chalk it up to luck if he got it, and lack of luck if he didn't, and not bother with it any longer.

He went home that night to find his mother beaming. He asked what had happened and she showed him the copies of the proof-of-payment of their debt Rodan had sent her.

"You have to serve Lady Maria loyally from now on. It's no longer just a debt you owe here, but a debt the entire family owes that you have to repay. If only your father could share in this..."

The happiness instantly vanished from her face.

Claude sighed.

That was not what he wanted! He was grateful, make no mistake, but he was not about to throw his ambitions away because of a mere 500-crown debt.

Everything changed very quickly in town and for the family. Thomas was both happy and regretful about their fortune. For one, he only just realised how much potential profit was in the market, so he wished they'd gone into it instead of chasing the trade route.

Claude decided not to burst his porous bubble with the reality that, had it not been for their discovery of the trade-route, tragedy included, such profits would never have been possible.

Perhaps a case could be made if they were able to be convinced to drop their greed and acknowledge the risk of pirates and hand information about the new route to the royal navy directly. That way, it probably would've ended nicely for everyone. But did that version of events have the most remote chance of occurring? Before they were made aware of the pirate threat, their eyes were completely blinded from the profits they could make from the new sailing route.

Which one of them would've been able to give up on a secret trade route connecting the two continents that nobody knew of? The profits would be ten times the capital had they succeeded! Instead of saying that the trading fleet ultimately failed as a result of bad luck from falling prey to the pirates, it was more apt to call it the fleet's destiny. Sending out such a large trading fleet when there were still so many unknowns was serving them out on a silver platter.

Consequently, it was precisely the trading fleet's doom and the pirate infestation that drew the attention of the royal navy. The kingdom even amended its policy to invest in Whitestag's development. Only then did Normanley Real Estate have the chance to take an early step and get their hands on the slums to develop it and sell them to the navy for huge profits.

It was an amalgamation of various factors that led to the current developments in Whitestag. If all had remained the same, developing the slums was a fool's errand. Other things aside, who would be the target market for the property? Would the slum folks be able to afford any?

After Felidos cleared up the various municipal departments, he sent out a recruitment order alongside the announcement of the formation of the Whitestag Keepery. They needed to triple the garrison's numbers before they were at full strength.

His order was a strange mix of recruitment and conscription. He ordered that every household had to give up one fit man to the keepery, if they had two male adults, regardless of employment status.

It upset the company's situation quite badly. Of their one thousand contracted labourers, two hundred were suddenly conscripted. They could do nothing about it, however. Claude had no power to influence the new mayor, and he was not keen on trying it when he had no idea how the man might react. The best he could do was send Rodan to butter the man up some and try to convince him to lay off his recruitment for a while, or to look over their workforce.

Rodan turned him down, however. He didn't know the viscount intimately, but he was familiar enough with the man to know there was no reasoning with him on such matters. It didn't help that this was his first true executive action as mayor. He would not let it be undermined or changed by anyone until its completion, otherwise his honour and authority as mayor would be undermined as well.

"Whatever... We'll just recruit other labourers then..." Claude said helplessly, "Hire older ones. Weren't there quite a number of people who wanted to work for our company after the forced conscription at the slums? Let's take in more of them and at least give them some work. Having more people will help us if more of them get conscripted away in the future."

The forced conscription in the slums some time ago greatly benefited Normanley Real Estate. Anyone in the slums that flashed their proof of identity as an employee of Normanley Real Estate would be spared from conscription unconditionally. The company didn't have to take them back themselves, to the envy of the other employees who were waiting for their respective employers to pick them up. Not long after, a huge crowd gathered at Normanley Real Estate's recruitment point.

Back then, Thomas excitedly picked out one out of three to four workers, prioritizing the hardworking, young, strong and obedient. Yet, he didn't think that he would be merely thinning out the crowd for the keepers to select their members from. He lost more than two hundred youths in a flash and that would set their schedule back considerably.

It wasn't even certain whether Felidos would draft Claude. But as much as he didn't want it, it still came to pass.

A few days later, Felidos sent his right-hand man to summon Claude into his office at the city hall. The mayor handed him a document with two words on it: conscription order.

"Claude, this is an opportunity only made possible by my recommendation letter. The Bluefeather corps will be holding an officer training course. Candidates picked for that course are all veterans with more than five years of impressive performance. After the training course ends, they will officially become officers in the military. That is the turning point from turning from a normal soldier to a military officer. In three years' time, you will make a fine second lieutenant. I believe you won't let me down. I have high hopes for you and trust you won't disappoint me. As long as you can contribute to the kingdom, the bowing of my head to plead for you to be given this opportunity wouldn't be wasted! You have to strive hard!"

Felidos used his one remaining right arm to pat on Claude's shoulder heartily. His expression seemed to convey, 'I bet you're surprised, aren't you? What are you waiting for? Thank me for this great opportunity!'

Chapter 165 - Conscription Order

Though Claude wanted to cry, he had no tears. He didn't know how he walked out of Felidos' office. It was all a daze. He held the conscription order in his hands and listened as Felidos praised and encouraged him non-stop. He walked out of city hall like a zombie and looked at the sky, before giving himself a harsh slap. After making sure he wasn't dreaming, he sat down on the steps leading to the building.

He never would've dreamt of this happening. Who knew a single meeting with Felidos would be so crucial to his enlistment? Not only did the man write him a recommendation letter and got him conscripted, he even gave it to him personally. How much free time did the man have? After he calmed down, he realized he had been dragged down because of his number-one rank in the physical course. If he'd known this would happen, he would not have competed with Welikro so much.

He supposed it wasn't as damaging as his mind screamed at first. The kingdom was gearing up for war and as such were scaling up their recruitment and draft efforts. He would have been able to delay his conscription a year at most, maybe two with Maria's help, but no more. This was certainly faster than he'd planned, but not by too much.

If Maria had managed to get him an exemption in the year or two, he might have been able to avoid this. But that was all worthless now that he'd already been handed this order. He wasn't too disappointed, however. He'd not put too much hope on his mistress succeeding in her endeavours.

He was considered enlisted the moment he received the order, and thus had to report to his designated training facility. If he didn't, he would be a deserter. If he was lucky, he would only have to spend the rest of his productive adult life in forced labour camps. No exemption could take retroactive effect.

He wished dearly now that Rodan hadn't introduced him to the mayor. That man had been too enthusiastic about helping him make connections, as a result he'd made all the wrong connections. He couldn't be too angry with the man, however, he had done it with all the right intentions, though he should have thought it through before doing this. If he'd thought about it for more than a couple seconds, he would have realised with the mayor's character he was likely to do exactly what he'd ended up doing.

Claude thought things through several times, but still couldn't decide what the most appropriate response was. Maybe it was better to not have so many people's favour. Maria had ruined his plans for Sir Fux by paying his little brother's debt, all because she'd wanted to do him a favour. In the same way, Felidos had ruined his plans for the future by getting him enlisted, again, all because he wanted to do him a favour.

They would have been right, too, if Claude had been anyone but who he was. If he'd been a normal kid his age and in his position, they would both have done him an incredible favour. He was not anyone else, however, and instead they'd ruined his carefully considered plans.

This, however, Claude thought, looking down at the paper, then back up at the mayor's face and fighting back the urge to launch a projectile right through his face, was not a pleasant surprise. The bastard just assumed he knew what Claude wanted, and decided his future for him.

He read the order several times, trying desperately to find something, some mistake or error, that would invalidate it, but there was nothing. It looked identical to the standard conscription order the army handed out. The only difference was that this one was stamped with a blue feather in the upper right corner of the page -- the emblem of Bluefeather, one of the kingdom's four main corps. This was not a general conscription order, but one from and for Bluefeather specifically.

Claude was not happy. Bluefeather had a reputation for being the corps with the greatest officer casualty rates. They believed in their officers being the first to charge into combat, in their officers leading from in front of the troops as examples, and being the first into danger and the last out of it. Make no mistake, it was a very effective strategy, and made them one of the most effective forces in the entire region, not just the kingdom, but it was less impressive from Claude's perspective, who was now destined to become one of those poor sods.

As for his training camp, Claude was to report to Fokby Hill in Gourneygada, in the prefecture of Kafreizit. He'd not even heard of the prefecture before.

He turned his attention to the large map of the kingdom painted on one of the mayor's office walls -- the mayor was still waiting for his thanks -- and searched for the prefecture's name. It took him a couple seconds longer to find it than he would have liked, but when he did, he understood why he hadn't heard of it before.

Kafreizit was one of the three prefecture Nasri had ceded to Aueras at the end of the last war. The three prefectures were generally only known together as the 'borderlands' by those outside of them, much like the three southwestern prefectures in which Claude lived were simply known as the three sisters in the rest of the kingdom. Claude had not bothered remembering their names because, as the kingdom's newest, and, as yet, still largely unintegrated and underdeveloped prefectures, they weren't paid much attention in his geography classes.

They'd not seen much development since their annexation thanks to the constant unrest that still plagued them. They'd been under unbroken martial law since their annexation, and news from within them were scarce.

Wasn't he being sent right to the frontlines? Gods damn it! He'd hoped to, and previously had been destined to go as far away from the fighting as was humanly possible, all the way to one of the kingdom's colonies, but now he was being sent right into the middle of what would in a couple of years be the continent's biggest hell-hole! On top of that, he was being sent there to become part of Bluefeather, the one army he was absolutely certain would be the first to charge into combat out of all the kingdom's forces, and would do so while putting him right in front of all the enemy's guns and cannons!

It would be even worse if war broke out early. He'd be sent to the frontlines with only the absolute minimum of training, on top of being sent to fight in the literal frontlines. If that happened, his only hope of living a little longer was that he was put in the reserves, though he doubted it would buy him anymore than a couple months before he marched onto the field of battle in the front anyway.

If the war went south things would be even worse. The greenhorn reserves were always the first sacrificed during retreats or in suicide defenses to buy the trained and experienced forces time to regroup or launch another offensive.

Every future he could envision if he went to the front ended badly for him one way or another, a couple ended badly in more than one way, and a few more in every way possible. He doubted Felidos saw it that way, however. He probably didn't think war would come their way for quite some time more, in which case his recommendation was truly a boon.

In peacetime, it was very hard for grunt recruits to make it into the officer core and start climbing the ranks of commissioned officers. Claude was to get that leg up from the beginning, however, after his training he would step directly into the ranks of commissioned officers. Had the kingdom been at peace -- including a prospect of peace for the foreseeable future -- this would definitely have been a good favour. As things stood, however, this was practically a death-sentence.

He would be a second lieutenant after his training finished, the lowest rank among commissioned officers. At the very least, if he survived the war, either by fighting all the way through, or taking early retirement due to injury, he would be a dignitarian when he left the military.

Gods, he really didn't know if he should be happy or angry. His feelings were irrelevant now, however. Order in hand, his future had now been set in stone, and he could do nothing to change it.

He had one month to report to his training camp after officially receiving the order. The trip there by horse or carriage would take at least a week, likely more. If he took a boat to Port Neru, he would have to travel at least two weeks. His best option, thus, was travelling over land. This meant he only had twenty days left at home if he wanted to leave with a realistic expectation of arriving on time.

In those twenty days, he had to settle quite a few matters. Officer or not, there was a very real chance of him never coming back home, so he had to write a will. That wouldn't have been necessary before, but now he owned land, a villa, and quite a few valuable possessions, and they had to be consigned to someone in the event of his death. On top of that he had to make arrangements for his family's living conditions in his absence.

He'd hoped to deal with his elder brother before leaving town, but when he'd asked around, the news was the bastard had fled town for Baromiss. He'd yet to tell his mother about that. He didn't want the man to have anything to do with the family anymore. His mother was too easy for him to manipulate, especially now that she'd lost her husband. With Morssen dead, she would be even more protective of her children, and so she would no doubt jump at any word from him that he might need help, and Claude didn't trust the bastard as far as he could spit to not take advantage of that the first moment he heard Claude had left town.

He also had to make arrangements for his sister's transport to school and back every day. Her father's death had made her even more timid than she'd been before, but he sensed a stubbornness born in her as well, especially where learning magic was concerned. Her wit had blossomed frighteningly as well. So much so Claude feared no man would want to take her for a wife. Men weren't too fond of women who were too wise for their own good.

His little brother was still just eight, so he had many years left before he became someone on whom the family could depend. He'd matured much thanks to the trauma of his father's death, but he was still just a kid. Claude had done his best to help him on the straight and narrow in the time they'd had together. He'd taken the boy into his room when they'd moved in, and used every opportunity he had to train the boy's spoilt habits out of him, much to their mother's dismay.

When he told Rodan about what the mayor had done, the man was no happier than he was. He nearly stormed into the man's office to go demand he undo what he'd done, but luckily Claude could calm him down enough to know it would be futile and damaging to their relationship.

Much of Claude's remaining time was spent writing up a manual on how to run the company and how to make decisions in his absence so the company wouldn't run aground while he was gone.

Chpater 166 - Have Some Whiskey

"Hey, Claude, are you on the way back?" asked a bearded lieutenant in navy uniform holding a bottle of alcohol.

It was already dark and Claude had only just left the run-down, three-storey office building of Normanley Real Estate. A black-clothed security guard helped him fasten Jemmy to the carriage.

"Nice to see you, First Lieutenant Nuit. I was doing some overtime. You know too that we're far too busy. The lord viscount has lots of ever-changing demands. That gives us lots of trouble when it comes to planning and design." Claude shrugged to show his frustration. "Well, the more things we have on our plate, the more troublesome it'll get. Are you not on duty today? On your way to see your sweetheart Miss Minnieleis, I presume?"

The lieutenant called Nuit was one of the people in charge of the construction of the naval base. His superior was the person Claude was complaining about, the one in charge of the construction of the base, Viscount Wenisk. As Claude often came to survey the site, he had acquainted himself well with Nuit.

In time, he became the lieutenant's good friend. According to what he knew, the 34-year-old navy lieutenant hadn't settled down yet. He had proclaimed himself a bachelor by choice and believed that family was nothing but a burden. However, that didn't mean he was celibate by any means. He loved to 'sample' all sorts of women and during the few short months he was posted in Whitestag, he had become a regular of the brothels in town. He even 'reserved' one young woman called Minnieleis and rented a house in the city to be their love nest.

"Sigh, it really is unlucky of me. I've been on duty for two nights straight. Now, it's finally time for me to rest. That's right, I'm going to find my little stray tonight and spend a stimulating and pleasant night," Nuit said as he approached, "When are you leaving for Kafreizit? If you're willing, you can also join the navy, you know. That way, you won't have to go out to become a target on the battlefield."

The word of Claude receiving is conscription order had long spread. When Kefnie heard about it, she sought him out right away and bawled quite heavily, stating that she wouldn't give up on him even if he came back crippled or disabled. She pledged herself to let Claude spend the latter half of his life comfortably.

Claude was so pissed that he almost chased her out. Couldn't she be more optimistic? Who would want to return crippled? Was she cursing him? Despite that, he was still quite thankful of the feelings she had for him. In a frenzied state, he pushed her against the wall and made out with her, reaching his hands across her body a few times, before letting her leave with her face flushed.

It was only after he snapped out of his dazed state that he realised that his relationship with Kefnie was secured. His womanising habits from his past life had come back to haunt him. Then again, Kefnie was a rather charming girl herself and sported a decent figure. After she revealed her feelings to him, he couldn't endure it and made a move on her, cementing their relationship for good.

"Joining the navy will just make me a target in the ocean. Forget it," Claude refused, "If I get hit by a bullet, I might still be saved. But when it comes to cannonballs... even the war god can do naught but send me off to the next life. And if the ship gets sunk, I will go down along with it. I won't be foolish enough to join the navy."

The navy and army of the kingdom didn't always see eye to eye. They were always competing for new recruits. Now that Claude was recruited into the army, he wouldn't even bother to pay the navy any courtesy. He was mocked often enough by the naval officers who came to supervise the construction.

"Thanks, Paulo," said Claude to the guard who helped him with the horse. He turned back to the lieutenant and said, "It's only the 11th today. I think I'll only be leaving in ten or so days for Kafreizit after I settle matters here first. By that way, what kind of wine is that? Gran wine? There's only half a bottle left. My poor First Lieutenant Nuit, are you going to use that crude wine to spice up your night with your little stray cat tonight?"

"Well... Hehe... I spent a little too much last month and my salary this month hasn't been paid yet, so I'm a little tight. It's already quite decent that I got a bottle of gran wine. Some of my comrades had to go to the infirmary to steal sanitary alcohol for a drink." Nuit didn't really mind Claude's mocking. Instead, he seemed rather proud that he was still able to afford gran wine. The bottle wasn't full though, there was only half inside. The man was swaying about as he walked towards Claude.

"That's why I'm here for your help, you see," the lieutenant said without even blushing, "And my luck happens to be great. You're still here."

"Sheesh, I knew you didn't have any good intentions when you came to greet me. Come with me, I'll only give you one bottle. I won't be able to answer for anything more than that." Claude figured the man's intention out in an instant. He shook his head resignedly and brought the man to his office. "Paulo, watch the carriage for me. I'll come back immediately."

"Understood, Master Claude," replied the guard loudly.

In Claude's office was a carton of good whiskey. Those were primarily used to serve guests of the company. Every time First Lieutenant Nuit came to see Claude, he would come up with an excuse to get a shot or two. It was obvious what he wanted when he eyed Claude's office with a half-finished bottle of gran wine in his hand. 'Friend, you aren't just going to let me leave with half a bottle of cheap wine, right?' was what he seemed to suggest.

"Give me an unopened one, will you?" Nuit said.

Claude shook his head. 'No way. You know how calculative Butler Rodan is. He'll come over to make an inventory every day. I'll give you a bottle that's still quite full. It's just as good as an unopened one. Here. I only poured a little out of this bottle to get a taste. You can barely see the difference."

"Fine, this bottle it is then. Thanks, friend." Nuit turned around with the bottle in his hand, satisfied, but he didn't see the odd gaze that flashed across Claude's eyes.

He put another bottle of whiskey in his rucksack before closing the door and leaving his office. After thanking the guard, he drove his carriage to the wood.

By the time he returned, his mother had already finished cooking dinner. But as it was already rather late, his mother, siblings, and the snowhound had finished their meals and left the food on the dining table for his return.

"You're going to leave home in another ten days..." Madam Ferd muttered as she watched her son wolf his food down with a longing gaze.

"Mom, I'll be fine. I'm only going to train as an officer. I'm not going on the battlefield right away, so don't worry. The war hasn't broken out yet either, and it's still peacetime. Maybe in three years' time, I'll show up here again in the uniform of a second lieutenant. I'd be a commissioned officer of the kingdom by then," Claude consoled after he swallowed his food.

Even though she had mostly recovered from her husband's death, she seemed to be worried about almost everything nowadays. Sometimes, she would cry alone in a corner when she recalled something out of nowhere. Claude felt relieved that he had moved his mother to the wood. If they were still living in the red-bricked mansion, her condition would definitely be far worse.

"By the way, I've made an account at the national bank for you. This is the account book, and I transferred the rent collected from the mansion into it. There's another one thousand crowns in it that came from my dividends at the company. After I leave, you'll have to manage the funds. If you feel ill, ask Anna to look for Uncle Thomas. He promised me that he would help out."

Her attention turned to the account book as expected. She gasped and clutched her mouth in disbelief. "How could the dividends be so much? C-claude... this money... is clean, right?"

Claude really wanted to tell her that he actually got ten thousand crowns, but he wasn't sure whether she'd faint from it. He nodded assuredly and said, "Of course. It's completely lawful. Don't worry, mom, I won't do anything illegal or cause Lady Maria any losses. In fact, she earned far more than I did."

"That's great," she said with relief, "Lady Maria is our huge benefactor. Not only did she help us settle the debt, she even helped you earn so much money. Claude, you must remember the favours she showed you. It's too bad that you'll be leaving soon and won't be able to continue helping her with the company..."

Claude smiled and nodded. He was really thankful to Maria, but not for paying back their debt. Had it not been for her guidance, he would've had to stumble his way along as a magus without the slightest understanding on the state of magic in the kingdom. He appreciated her selfless guidance and sincerity and how she didn't have any ill intentions towards him.

In fact, Maria's gift of the land and the wooden villa was a payment for the four basic spells he gave her. It was only after Claude helped with the real estate development and the sale of the property to the navy did Maria realise how much value Claude was of to her. She took the initiative to pay off Bloweyk's debt and hoped to secure an exemption for him.

If Maria didn't see Claude's true talent and value, she wouldn't have done so much for him just because she was his teacher in magic and herbalism. The most long-lasting relationships were ones that benefited both sides. Helping one another was the surest way to maintain a relationship.

That was the reason Claude was so conflicted after receiving her letter. If he got the exemption, Lady Maria would in effect become Claude's sponsor. He would then be tied down as a peasant under House Normanley. If things were to naturally progress, Claude would become a servant of the house just like Rodan.

Perhaps most people would dream of getting such a treatment. That wasn't just gaining Maria's favour, Claude had practically joined the ranks of House Normanley. However, his pride as a transmigrator caused him to reject that notion. He didn't transmigrate to this world just to run errands for others. Maria was great to him, but who could say for sure whether the other members of the house would be? Claude would feel shamed as a transmigrator if he got bossed around by Maria's children all day long.

But now, Felidos' conscription order saved him the trouble of refusing Maria's exemption. After deciding on joining the military, Claude felt a huge burden lifted from his shoulders. It was probably due time he left the small town to see the world. Joining the military didn't only mean becoming cannon fodder. There was also a chance of gaining military merit with his comrades.

People are all sorts of contradictory. Claude believed that he shouldn't be limited in his freedom by being tied to a large faction like House Normanley, yet he didn't consider that joining the army would also mean losing his individual freedom. He also had to risk his life on the battlefield in front of enemy fire. The only difference was that he would stand a chance of becoming even more than what he could be by yielding to the kingdom.

Chapter 167 - Explanation

"By the way, why hasn't Kefnie come over lately? The two of you are adults now. Since you still have some time here, you should tie the knot," Madam Ferd said one evening.

Claude's scalp tingled. His experience with a failed marriage, which had led to his womanizing life, had instilled him with a sense of distrust in women where marriage was concerned. Kefnie may be the ideal daughter-in-law, but he had no interest in marriage. His mother should stop joking around. Even if he didn't have an issue with marriage, he was just 18, not to mention his future with the army.

"Kefnie's helping Rodan check the materials. The 15th is also coming and we have to pay the staff's salaries, not to mention the loans. She's busier than you think. She just doesn't have the time to stop by all the time. As for marriage, I won't think about it until I'm done with the military."

Claude cleaned the table after the meal and his mother took the account book with her upstairs. Angelina and Bloweyk were playing with the snowhound in the field outside. Claude called them in. There were many mosquitos and other insects around and they were most active at night.

Bloweyk didn't come until Claude physically dragged him into the villa. With their baths done, the little rascal headed to bed. Claude went to the study, and found his sister waiting for him again.

"How's your shooting coming?"

As Claude had been doing overtime, his mother had picked her up from school with their new carriage. They also went shopping for some food and seasoning at the open market before coming home.

"I got 14 hits out of 20," she replied proudly.

"Not bad."

Claude took a folder out of his backpack.

"I made an account for you. You have three thousand crowns. It's only for magical materials. If there's some emergency at home, you can use the money for that too, but never tell mom about it. Understood?"

His little sister nodded obediently.

"No worries, I made an account for mom too. It has a thousand crowns and the rent from the mansion. It should be enough to keep the family running. I also asked where Arbeit went. I heard he left town on the day father passed. I'm not sure whether he'll suddenly come back after I leave, but you better pay attention. If he's just here for free food, leave him be. But never let him cheat mom out of money, understood?"

Angelina's two large eyes suddenly teared up.

"I don't want you to leave..."

Claude stroked her head with a smile.

"It's impossible. If I don't, I'll be sent to the labour camps. I promise I'll come home safely. You're already fifteen. You'll be a young lady soon. Once I leave, the family will depend on you. Mom's still not in top condition yet, so you have to take care of her."

"Okay. I know how to drive and I can go to school myself. I don't need mom to pick me up." Though she tried to look proud by talking with her nose high, the tears on her face made her look rather comical.

After rubbing her tears away, Claude said, "Good. You can drive the new carriage to school. The mare we just got, Wendie, has a gentle personality. It's also really stable while crossing hilly paths, so you'll be fine."

He handed the account book to her and passed another large sack of money to her. "Don't touch the money in the account for now. You can use that alchemical formation array after you become a one-ring magus and only then would you need to use that money for materials. You remember what I taught you about buying magical materials, right? That's why I wanted you to learn herbalism. A lot of herbs can also be used as magical materials, so if you buy them with herbalism experiments as your excuse, nobody will suspect that you're using them for magic."

"Got it."

She opened the sack and started with shock. "There's so many gold and silver coins..."

"It's your allowance. 30 crowns. Just keep the money with you and treat your friends to some food occasionally. You'll make friends easily and won't be ostracized. Use it sparingly, don't spend it just because you have lots of it, okay?"

"Hmph, I'm not a kid, you know."

"Hide the sack and account book in your room. Don't let Blowk and the snowhound find out--" Claude opened the folder. "--Another thing, I bought a piece of land in your name on Old Street near the military base. I plan to construct a four-storey building there. I spoke with Boa's father about it and he knows what to do.

"I also rented the shop lots on the ground floor to him. He's going to move his family business there when the building's done. The rent will be paid to your account. These documents have already been certified by City Hall, so I'll leave them with you."

"Does mom know about this?"

Claude stroked her head and messed up her hair, causing her to humph and pull her head away.

"She doesn't. Don't forget what I said. I bought the land for you. Mister Rublier and I agreed he would take care of everything until you turn 18 and hand it to you then. Maybe you can leave it in his hands to manage if you want then. If you want to marry someone, the building can be your dowry..."

"I don't want to marry anyone!" she shouted, her ears red.

She clung onto the deed so tightly Claude was afraid she'd tear it. That was her land. For a girl to own a patch of land like that, especially before she was married or even an adult, was beyond rare. Given its prime location and development, she never had to worry about anything, and wouldn't have to marry just to have someone to take care of her financially.

"It must've cost you a lot," she murmured.

It was a lot indeed, almost four thousand crowns. Whitestag was being made a city and there were still lots of development underway. Property prices had almost tripled. The land Claude had bought was public property before, which made it somewhat cheaper, but it still cost him over 1500 crowns. He would have paid even more if not for First Lieutenant Hughs' mediation.

The construction cost two thousand crowns. The designs were all drawn by him. He'd used the Hogg-style, red-bricked mansion as a template. The only difference was that each suite had two balconies. The people in this world loved to dry their sheets and laundry in the sun and Claude was already sick of hearing complaints from the mansion's tenants that they couldn't do so.

The amount roughly totaled up to four thousand crowns. He gave his mother an additional one thousand, and his sister three thousand crowns. That left him with around a thousand plus crowns left, which should be more than enough for his life in the military. Even if he had to treat his comrades to big meals daily, his funds could last quite a while.

"It's fine, Anna. I'm rich and they're all the shares I got from the company. It's getting late. Go sleep. Take everything with you and don't forget to meditate before you sleep."

"Okay," she answered obediently.

Claude scratched his head and listened to the sound of her going up the steps. He then bent down and took a black-colored beastskin sack out from under his desk and took out his black mask and shawl as well as a few bottles and put them on the table.

He took out a large bunch of fat from the bottle of lard and mixed it with some of the other chemical solutions. When it was all even, he pasted some of it on the back of his hand. Soon, he managed to settle on a color he deemed suitable.

He applied the brownish lard on his face, hands, and all exposed parts of his skin. Soon, his skin turned bronze and he looked no different from a weather-beaten sailor.

Next was his hair. He needed some alchemical potions for that. Fortunately, Claude had concocted a bottle based on Landes' notes. What he didn't understand was who would use hair dye during the age of magic? Did the magi care about how they looked too?

He dyed his brown-black hair into dark blonde with the regent and cut off some hair which he fashioned into a fine-looking moustache. He stuck the fake moustache above his lips and looked into the mirror. Even his mother wouldn't recognize him now.

He put on the socks and books he took from the sack and his mask. Slinging the other backpack on with the whiskey bottle inside, Claude left the study quietly and exited the wooden hut. His mother and little brother were probably asleep and Angelina was probably deep in meditation. They didn't notice that Claude had slipped out. The snowhound on the other hand did growl for a few moments and scratched the entrance of the bedroom a few times, but it soon quieted down, probably able to tell that it was Claude.

He left the wood and headed to town with the familiar route. As the naval base encompassed the entire slums, Kefnie and her sister as well as the darned Hurian had to move. Felidos on the other hand got inspiration from the development Normanley Real Estate ushered in and was preparing to build a simple residential area outside the west gate of the town for the residents of the slums to move into. That move did win him quite a bit of approval.

However, that plan hadn't been drafted yet, mainly because of the whimsical Viscount Wenisk, who pushed down a plan he drafted the next day. Before anything was set in stone, the citizens of the slums still had to live there. But it was markedly quiet, unlike before.

Claude wanted to go to Old Street. The brothel was still there and without Blacksnake's control, it grew even more prosperous. After all, no harlot would be willing to split the lion's share of the money they worked so hard for to the gang. Nowadays, the strong and brave sailors of the navy were their regular customers.

Chapter 168 - Urgent Document

Viscount Wenisk had wracked his brain over the brothel's land a number of times, going through the plans multiple times. In fact, it was quite surprising to the navy to have a brothel like that. The superiors weren't fools. They knew how much a brothel could help the men's morale.

Wenisk had no problem with that. His issue was where to put it. If he put it in their base, it would be quick and easy to access, not to mention discreet for the sailors. He worried for the navy's reputation, however, if it became known that they controlled a brothel.

Putting it outside the base meant they could keep the navy's ownership of it out of the public eye, but it would make it vulnerable to harassment by others and would make it difficult for sailors to access it without everyone knowing they were doing so.

Many promising officers' careers had been cut short by a brothel related scandal in Port Neru alone. Wenisk wished it had been some other poor sod that had been put in command of this decision, but it was him and he could do nothing about it.

Claude arrived on Old Street at this time, using a small and unfrequented alley, stopped outside a simple two-storey building, and hid himself in the shadows.

It was the same building First Lieutenant Nuit had rented for his 'little stray cat'. Even as he stood outside, he could hear the thunderous snores coming from inside. It seemed the whiskey he'd given the lieutenant had been put to good use.

He cast Magus' Hands and Fine Control before picking the door's lock. He smiled at a satisfying click several seconds later and slipped inside.

Eye of Appraisal went off a moment later and the black beyond the door receded to reveal the room. He slid up the stairs and picked the lock of the master bedroom's door. His nose twitched to the smell of alcohol even before he'd reached the door.

Another click later he was inside the bedroom. Two naked bodies awaited him there. One corner of the room had a table, upon which his bottle of whiskey lay, empty, alongside several half-eaten plates of food. The rest of the room was a minefield of less-than-clean clothes and the still-wet stains of 'peaceful interactions'.

Claude brought out a small bottle and popped a couple drops into the leftover whiskey in the bottle, refilled it with more whiskey, and stowed it away in his backpack. He then picked up Nuit's uniform and left the pair to their post-pleasure slumber.

Claude would not have bothered the man if not for the similarity in their figures. While Nuit was a little thicker in build, it was not enough to make his uniform an ill fit.

A dashing lieutenant appeared on Old Street soon afterwards and made his public way down the street, harassed along the way but several wenches.

Some soldiers nearby were holding up a few disguised guests who wanted to enter the brothel and had them state their identity. A few who weren't willing to cooperate complained how unreasonable it was that regular guests like them were forbidden from entering after the navy took control.

They saw the lieutenant pass by, but let him go without bothering him, only saluting respectfully. He rented a carriage once they'd done so and left.

The guests wanting to visit Old Street gathered some money with much difficulty and handed it to the soldiers on duty to be allowed inside. Once they'd left, the man realized he couldn't quite recognise the the officer who'd just left, and checked with the others, who said much the same.

He didn't think about it too much, however. The base was quite sizeable, and it was unlikely for his compatriots to know every officer stationed in it. It was a little less likely that they wouldn't have recognised, or at least heard of, a young officer with such a luscious moustache. Then again, with the base still ever-expanding, it was probably just a new transfer, most likely an errand boy for one of the newly promoted commanders.

"Fux Manor," Claude said to the coachman once they were around the corner.

It took twenty minutes for the carriage to come to a halt in front of a luxurious manor on the other end of town. The gates alone were worth at least three-dozen crowns. It was an ornamental piece of crafted steel gilded with copious amounts of gold.

"Fux Manor, Sir," the coachman announced.

Claude got out, his eyes still glued to the gates.

"Wait here for me. I'll give a riyas for the trouble," Claude said in as authoritarian and aloof voice as he could manage.

"Of course, Sir," the coachman half jumped to answer.

A trip like this was usually two or three sunars, five at most for a two way. Making a riyas on it and a little wait was a killing. He didn't say anything when the officer left without paying either, a man with the station to visit someone with Sir Fux's standing would not try to cheat a lowly coachman out of a mere riyas.

Claude yanked the bell rope and a servant appeared as if out of midair a couple moments later, cursing with half a woke voice. His curses vanished once he saw the officer's uniform and his frown melted into a solemn, dutiful expression.

"What business brings you here, Sir?"

Claude glared at him until the man turned away.

"I'm First Lieutenant Abraham. I've come on the orders of Viscount Wenisk to bring Sir Fux an urgent document. Tell him immediately."

"T-the master is already asleep--" Claude just stared at him for several quiet seconds, however, and the man quickly changed his tune. "--I'll notify him immediately. P-please wait here for a moment."

The servant vanished for several minutes, then reappeared with a lantern and an old man behind him.

"What urgent document is this? Let me see," the old man said unhappily.

"Nonsense! Who are you?! You dare to access classified information? Do you want to hang?!" Claude yelled.

"You..."

The old man wanted to curse, but when he saw Claude's uniform, he stopped himself.

"Apologies. I am Sir Fux's butler, Wharf. The master sent me to get the document..."

"That won't do. I am under strict orders to deliver this into Sir Fux's hands and into his hands only. I am to return with his answer to its contents immediately as well."

The old man was peeved that Viscount Wenisk would send a document this late, but he was not about to argue with a navy officer, especially not one under that man's direct orders, so he did as the man asked.

"Then please come in. Beed, open the gate. Please come with me, Lieutenant. I will report to Sir Fux again. Wait downstairs. He will join you shortly."

Claude nodded.

"The name's Abraham. Please also give the coachman something warm to drink. He still needs to take me back to the base once I'm done here."

"Very well. Beed will see to it."

The cursing man that had initially welcomed him, whom he now knew as Beed, left for the citching, stifling another series of curses under his breath.

Claude followed the butler to the great hall. The old man put his lamp on a nearby table and lit a couple candles along the wall.

"Please wait here for a few moments. I will notify Sir Fux," the butler said politely.

Claude stood ramrod straight, as would be appropriate of a military man.

"Thank you for your trouble, Mister Wharf."

The butler vanished up the stairs with his lamp and reappeared ten minutes later.

"Please follow me. The master is waiting in his study."

"Thank you."

Claude took large steps towards the stairs and followed behind the butler.

The old man turned left on the first floor corridor and walked to the very end. The candle on the wall at the end of the corridor was lit and Claude saw a yawning maidservant standing in front of a magnificently carved black door.

"Cerna, where's the master?" the butler asked in a low voice.

"He's inside," The maidservant answered, then glanced at Claude, her eyes brightening.

Her eyes softened and a light blush and a seductive smile flushed her face.

"After you, sir," the butler said as he pushed the door out of the way.

"Many thanks."

Claude turned to the maidservant and nodded before entering. The butler followed him in.

The study was lit by two candle stands. The eight white beeswax candles filled the room with a sickly sweet aroma.

Sir Fux sat in a large chair, still wearing his nightgown. His face betrayed his curiosity at the late intrusion.

Everyone knew Sir Fux wasn't too happy with Viscount Wenisk's endeavours with the naval base. Especially not since he'd undone much of Sir Fux's investments via Baron Robert, not to mention his later arrest of the henchman.

Then there was also the matter of the accusations about Normanley Real Estate's supposed shady dealings. Few doubted it was Sir Fux who'd made them, and yet Viscount Wenisk had not given him any face and shot them down out of hand. On top of that he'd not given Sir Fux's company any of the contracts for the various construction projects. He'd even done it in front of the whole town's elite during his first banquet in town. Sir Fux had expected him to be resistant to the idea, which was why he'd broached the subject in front of the town's elite, expecting the Viscount to give him some face in front of all those people, but the plan had completely backfired.

Thus, his voice was extra cold when he spoke as the lieutenant entered the office.

"Where's the document? What is so urgent you come and wake me up in the middle of the night? This better be worth my time."

Chapter 169 - Execution

Sir Fux watched as the dashing naval officer saluted him before taking a blue folder out of his briefcase. He took two steps forward, one hand outstretched with the document. Why was he being so rude? Didn't he know the basics of etiquette?

Sir Fux humphed unhappily and refused to take the document. He was not going to stand up to take the thing from this blasted man. For him to do that when someone inferior to him was handing him something was unthinkable! The bastard could either come all the way and hand it to him properly, or put it down on the desk! Had he been ordered by that blasted Wenisk to do this? He snorted again and waved for his butler to take the document instead.

Why, he thought, did the man look familiar? He'd definitely seen those dead eyes somewhere before. His mind raced, but he could not come up with a single memory of having met a naval officer like this, or anyone in uniform for that matter.

Wharf instantly knew what his master wanted and stepped up to take the document. The lieutenant handed it over as if nothing had happened. His act truly was impeccable, thought Sir Fux.

The moment Wharf was about to clasp the folder, however, the lieutenant yanked it back, causing the man to reach further instinctively and lose his balance, stumbling forward.

What was the bastard--

The lieutenant's other hand reached up and clasped Wharf's neck firmly, dragging the man closer. His other hand jerked around and came down on the butler's neck from behind, snapping it crisply.

--doing?

The corpse twitched violently as it realised it was dying.

What on earth--

The corpse's twitches turned to spasms as it hit the floor. The lieutenant's dead eyes darted back up to him.

--was going on?

The thought died in his head. Those eyes told him exactly what was happening. His message was not in the folder, it was his very presence. His message wasn't news, it was death.

His muscles tightened instantly and he felt his body shoot away from his desk, his chair coming into view beneath him. In the same movement his one hand reached for a rope dangling on the wall.

Screaming might have been quicker, but his body had reacted before his head had even finished processing what was happening. As he felt himself wheeling backwards towards the wall, all at an excruciatingly glacial pace, he remembered why he'd practiced this motion so many times. He could yell all he wanted, even if he had the voice of his younger days, no one would have heard it. This study had played host to too many secrets over the years, and it had been built to keep them. A feeble yell from an old man would not break through its thick walls and heavy door.

His fingers just started touching the rope, when he felt a pair of cold hands yank him away from the wall. His eyes darted around. The lieutenant was holding him by the arm. His fingers dug into his arm so much the tips of his nails broke skin. He felt the other hand crawl around his neck, crushing his throat. Then...

Crack!

He watched with an odd feeling of detached amusement as the skin of his right forearm tore and two white bones burst through, followed a micromoment later by crimson blood. The cold hand let go of his arm and it drifted to his side with that same glacial slowness.

His detachment didn't last much longer, however. He could quite literally see the pain rushing up his arm to his brain for a moment. It danced up his arm like a shockwave, his skin rippling as the muscles beneath spasmed along the pain's path. A moment later it hit his head and the world shattered.

His face contorted like a child's when the whip cracked on their buttocks for the first time and tears quite literally shot out of his eyes. His eyes nearly followed and he could see nothing but a psychedelic display of colours and shapes as his eyeballs malformed under the spasming muscles of his eyes sockets.

The air finally came rushing out of his lungs, through his throat and out of his mouth, but instead of a relieving scream, he heard only a strained wheeze.

"W-w-w-whyy... k-k-ill mee.... w-w-w-who s-s-sent you--" He felt his lips mouth, though his ears only heard hisses and wheezes. "--A-a-at least l-l-l-et me k-know how I d-d-died..."

Somehow, he thought, if that was what what he was doing could really be called -- for his brain had shut down almost completely from the pain and only the tiniest slither of his rationality remained to ensure he bore witness to what happened -- the man had understood him, for a lifeless, venomous smile slithered over that familiar face.

"Actually, Sir Fux, you're lucky. I didn't want to kill you just yet. That would have been an end too good for you. I would have liked for you to live the life I was going to engineer for you for at least a couple years. Because you are going to die tonight, you'll be remembered as a respectable politician, well, by those that don't know you at least. I'd wanted for you to live like you are, trash, a stray dog, for several years before then so you would be remembered for what you truly are. Alas, I've been forced to abandon that plan thanks to two damn do-gooders."

The smile finally shook loose the right memory, and Sir Fux wheezed again.

"Yes, you're right," the lieutenant answered, "I'm Claude. I suppose you can consider your quick death a reward for that little guess of yours. Oh, how I'd planned it all. I was going to rig next year's election so you would lose your position on the council. You have no merits beyond that title, so, without it, everyone would come after your wealth. At that time I would reveal a couple of your juicy little skeletons and your friends and minions would jump ship, leaving you to the wolves. I had much more planned, but I suppose that doesn't matter anymore, does it? You won't see the sunrise tomorrow. You should really be grateful to those two damn do-gooders. Hell waits for you, and I would hate to keep them waiting, let me send you off, shall I?"

Sir Fux watched as Claude's other hand joined his first around his neck, and he felt his airway closing. A soft crack zipped through his throat as his larynx was crushed and his lungs stopped getting air. At first his brain didn't want to process what had just happened, but he had little choice but to know when his lungs started burning a couple moments later.

His face contorted even further and his limbs started flailing. He tried to claw at his murderer's face to get him to let go, but his face only contorted more as pain shot up his arm again the moment he tried to move it. The fire burnt through his lungs and started gnawing at his guts a couple moment later, then he felt his legs scream at him as well. He tried to scream, and the pain in his lungs shot up several times as some muscles obeyed and tried to contract to force out some air for the shout, and others didn't and continued to try and open his lungs as much as possible to suck in air. His mouth made gasping motions and he felt his tears flowing into it and down his throat. The added cough reflex was too much and he felt bile push up from his stomach. It couldn't make it past his killer's hands, however, and he felt it burn his esophagus as it kept trying to get out.

He suddenly realised his vision was swimming with stars. No, they were not stars, but fireflies. Little puffs of light that danced back and forth across his vision like water crickets chasing their mates in spring. He realised the pain in his legs and arms were gone now, instead he felt only a searing numbness where he'd once had limbs. His eyes made up for it however, starting to burn from seconds without blinking, but he had no control over his eyelids, he realised when he tried to blink and nothing happened.

The numbness in his extremities had reached all the way to his hips and shoulders now, and he noticed they'd stopped flailing as much. He couldn't feel their stillness, but that had to be what had happened since the room was no longer shaking. The fireflies were gone too, now. In fact, he realised he couldn't see the his desk anymore. He could make it out at the edge of his vision before, but now there was only darkness.

His mind darted back to his murderer's face, and he hated it. Not because it was the last thing he would see, or because it was the face of the man that had killed him. No, he hated it because there was nothing in it. There was no hatred, no loathing, no demonic satisfaction in his death. There was only a bored indifference to him, like he was a chore taking too long to finish. Like he was an inconvenient fly that had only to be ignored long enough to move on. If at least he could have seen some emotion in that face, if he could know that at least his death had some significance to someone, even if it was only the significance of satisfying his enemy. But even that was being denied him. He was nothing, and his death would be nothing, too.

He felt his jaw drop and drool run down his chin in the moment before he lost feeling there too. He could see only the bastard's face now, his neck vanishing into that swallowing darkness.

Would he be remembered? He thought. Remembered? By whom? Remembered for what? What had he done for his whole life? He tried to remember, but he realised that that part of his brain was gone already. What had he done? Where was this?

Wait, why was this stranger trying to kill him? No, no. No no no no no! What had he done? What had he done to that mask that it wanted him dead? No! He was innocent! He'd not done anything! Who was he even? Some part of his tiny brain shouted back at him that he was someone. That he'd been something once, but he didn't care. His name! What was his name! That's right, he was Sir...

---  ---  ---

Claude watched as the last life left his victim's eyes. The body twitched twice more, and it looked like it might struggle some more, but then it relaxed, like heaving a massive sigh, and it didn't move again.

Good, there was no blood. But yuck, did he have to foam so much? How inconsiderate! Claude wiped the spittle on the corpse's shirt.

He heard a sift trickle and looked down. His nose was assaulted by the acrid, acidic stench of urine. Luckily he got off before it had time to soak through the corpse's nightgown into his pants.

He picked up the folder, slipped it back in the briefcase, and closed it. He checked to make sure he hadn't dropped something by which he could be identified, and, satisfied he hadn't, left.

---  ---  ---

Cerna stood outside her master's study, nightdreaming. She had the unpleasant job of being that old fogey's chambermaid. Which meant she had to serve all his needs in his bedchamber, including those of the least savoury variety. He was old, however, both a blessing and a curse. It meant he demanded those services of her less often, but it made those infrequent times far less pleasant, if at least quicker.

She had the misfortune, however, of being quite attractive, and the old fogey had long fingers and wandering hands. She found them in the most unhappy places at the worst of times.

She wasn't very happy for the butler to wake him this evening, since that usually meant her master desired such company from her. Instead, however, she'd been told to help wake her master up and get him somewhat presentable to meet an important guest. It was a welcome break, but she still wasn't too happy about it.

The guest, however, made her night more than worth the uncomfortable awakening. He was dashing, and positively dreamy. He oozed every kind of the right manliness and violence of a soldier, while also having the feminine refinement of a young noble. Oh, if she could trade that old fogey in for him. She might just be the one waking him up in the middle of the night, rather than the other way around.

The study's door creaked open, waking her from her fantasies, just as her mind started wandering into the bedroom again, and that very same lieutenant stepped out, on his own.

"That's all for tonight, Sir," the lieutenant said over his shoulder as he closed the door, "You're welcome to send your butler to the viscount if you have any further questions."

He slipped a quick salute through the crack before the door closed.

"Cerna, was it? I'm told you'll see me off."

"I'd love to. Please follow me, Sir," she said, a little too enthusiastically. She scolded herself, and curtsied.

Why did the corridor have to be so short? If only the building had been longer and the gate further away. She did her best to walk slowly, but the lieutenant kept the pace too brisk for her liking. She shouldn't hold him up, she'd decided; he was clearly in a hurry to get back to the base.

What did she know about him? She found herself thinking as they covered the last of the distance. He was named Abraham, about 25 years old, someone with an aristocratic background -- that much was clear from his impeccable bearing. He hadn't mentioned his family name, however. He had an equally impeccable personality, since he was polite even to a lowly chambermaid such as herself. Her opinion was only reinforced when he stepped up to shield her from the wind when they stepped out of the building.

He suggested she see him off there, but she insisted on following all the way to the gate. There she slipped in mention that her master would be absent from town for a while as of the next day as he'd be off to the prefectural capital. She would be oh so bored with nothing to do and would love to show him around town if he liked.

He smiled warmly and thanked her.

"If I'm free I'll send for you. If you show me around well, a good evening and dinner might be in order as well."

The thought made her nightgown wet and she shivered at the sudden inconvenient cold spot.

She saw him off and returned to the study. The door was still closed, however. She was used to such late night meetings, however, so she manned her post by the door diligently, falling asleep not long after.

She slipped and fell to the ground a couple minutes later, waking up as her forehead hit the ground. She got up uneasily and glanced out the window. It was still dark so she couldn't have been asleep for too long. The study's door was still closed, though, and she wondered when they would finish. She sighed and supposed she should do the polite thing and offer them a snack and a warm drink.

She knocked on the door, got no reply, which was usual, however, and entered.

She bowed the moment she stepped inside.

"Would you like some refresh-- Eeaaaaaaaaaagggghhhhh!"

Chapter 170 - Detective

Fux Manor was rife with activity at sunrise the next morning. A few of the town's elites gathered as well. The servants moved about like busy bees and some of the guests, awakened in the middle of the night to rush there, couldn't hide their shock. The estate's owner and the only council member in Whitestag had been murdered along with his butler in his own study.

The new mayor, Felidos, was no exception. He stood there and stared at the two untouched corpses. The unkempt Viscount Wenisk had repeated his testimony countless times already, but did so again now.

"Let... let me say again I didn't send anyone to deliver anything to him! What business would the navy have to discuss with a councillor? We have nothing that concerns him! I don't have an aide called Abraham either. There isn't a single soldier in town by that name! This is a scheme! A scheme against the navy!"

Felidos was somewhat calmer.

"Nobody suspects you, Viscount. This must be a scheme, of that we are all certain. I doubt the navy is stupid enough to send someone on such a dirty errand dressed in their own uniform, even announcing his affiliation. It's obvious the culprit knows about your bad relationship with the councillor, however, and is using it to try to frame you. He must be someone who knows the inner workings of the bases' construction. He is not an outsider. He must be in the base right now.

"Another question. I heard from the servant and the maidservant that the killer wore a naval uniform that fit him well. He couldn't have just found one. He must be an officer, or have had enough time to find one. There's also the matter of his bearing. As they described it, he must have a cultured background."

Felidos stroked his chin.

"It has always been illegal to impersonate an officer. I doubt an honest man would be willing to make a fake uniform and would no doubt report it to the authorities immediately. The two servants said First Lieutenant Lunkard's uniform fits the description they gave. If the killer isn't someone from the navy, he is at least someone who pays attention to us. Otherwise, how could he know the details of our uniforms? We must work this from both sides. Investigate the naval base and all its staff. Find out if any uniforms are missing or reported stolen.

"I will look into the town's tailors and textile merchants for any suspicious orders. This will not be solved quietly. The murder of a councillor is no small matter. This is going to shake the kingdom and bring a mountain down on our heads.

"I already sent an eagle to the capital. An emissary should arrive within a couple more days. If at all possible, we must have the killer by then, or at least be close to catching him. Take the servants with you and interrogate them thoroughly."

Wenisk finally calmed down.

"Understood."

Two black-robed men with top hats pacing around the room ceased and walked to Felidos, shaking their heads.

"Apologies, Mayor, we sense no traces of magic. We cannot reconstruct the scene. The killer must not be a magician, or at least he killed without using anything magical. As such, this is not under our jurisdiction. We shall take our leave."

"Who are they?" Wenisk asked unhappily, "What do they mean by 'not under their jurisdiction'?"

Felidos sighed.

"They are from the Watch. I had hoped they might find something, but nothing. If they had, we could have just passed this on to them. I have no doubt they'll stick around to enjoy the show, though."

Wenisk started at mention of the Watch. He shut his discontent away quickly, glanced at the corpses, and turned to leave.

"A moment, Viscount," Felidos said, "Detective Joseph is here. Let's wait for his report. He has more than two decades of experience as a detective in the royal capital and has solved many murders. The famous case of the seven corpses found in the sewers under Rotary Bridge was cracked by him. His home town is in Tordesass prefecture, and he was on the way there after his retirement and happened to pass through here. I stopped him and asked him to help the constabulary train some rookies. The moment I heard about what happened here, I notified him immediately. He has made initial checks on the corpses and let's hear what he has to say. Take him to the base later too. He has more experience, so he should be able to tell who's the killer better."

Detective Joseph was a bald old man with a stout figure. However, there was a natural grimace on his face and he spoke in a slow rhythm. But, his words always went straight to the point. He was a sharp-spoken man.

"The killer is a male around 25 years of age with dark blonde hair and a moustache. It's probably a disguise. His height is around 1.8 meters and has tanned skin, seeming of sailor stock. He has great strength, amazing close combat skills, and a mind of steel, seeing as he was able to chat with the maidservant Cerna so casually without the slightest sign of rushing. It can be seen that he has rich experience in assassinations. Perhaps he might be a contract killer. The one who killed Sir Fux might have been employed by some other party..."

Joseph hesitated for a moment before continuing. "There's still another variable in question. Beed the doorman said that his eyes were yellow-brown in color, but Cerna said it was a charming blue. The two of them couldn't be sure that their account was completely correct and they admitted that they could be wrong after hearing the other's story."

"I have a question," Felidos said, "Detective Joseph, how can you be sure that the killer had great close combat skills and strength?"

The detective pointed a the two corpses. "They told me that. Just look at the spot where they died and the cause of death. It's obvious that the butler was in the same room when Sir Fux was tending to a visitor so that he could attend to his need right away. However, Sir Fux died on the desk. That means that the killer was able to subdue Sir Fux, who was sitting behind the desk, swiftly after dispatching Wharf so that the latter won't be able to alert other servants, such as Cerna, who was just outside the room."

Joseph approached the spot on which Claude once stood. "Taking the 'urgent document' into account, the killer should've been standing here and handing the document to Sir Fux from here. That should've been quite awkward for him, because he would have to stand up and bend forward to receive it as if he was bowing to the killer. I think Sir Fux would get his butler, who was likely standing by at the entrance, to bring the document to him.

"That would give the killer an opportunity to strike. He could dispatch the butler first before attacking Sir Fux. Otherwise, the butler will alert the rest. If the killer attacked the butler first, Sir Fux wouldn't hesitate to pull the alarm bell on the wall behind him. Unfortunately, the killer's plan worked and both master and servant suffered the same fate.

"As for his skills and strength, the reason for that is simple." Joseph gave a slight chuckle. "Sir Fux and his butler died from a snap to the neck. Even though it seems easy to do that, it's far from the truth. If one isn't strong enough, there's no way the neck can be snapped in a flash. Any pugilist worth his salt would know a common fact like this. Snapping a neck requires far more skill and strength than snapping an arm."

Felidos clapped twice lightly. "Your analysis is spot on, Detective. I will need you to go with Viscount Wenisk to the naval base. We have to identify the killer, or at least the suspects, quick, so that we can provide a satisfactory answer to the ambassador from the royal capital."

Joseph nodded. "Got it."

First Lieutenant Nuit was roused from his sleep drowsily from the panicked cries of Minnieleis. He stretched his arms out to hug her and mumbled, "Why are you screaming so loud? Let's sleep. Here, come blow me for a bit."

The kitty tugged on the sheets and hid her body. "N-nuit... Someone broke in..."

"W-who dares to trespass in this place..." Nuit finally snapped out of his drowsiness, only to notice that his room was filled with people. There were four to five armed naval soldiers and his comrades, Captain Horic, First Lieutenant Bjard, Second Lieutenant Louis and a bald man. They were all staring at him and the girl beside him.

"W-w-what's going on?" Nuit began to panic.

What the hell was going on? He hadn't done anything wrong!

"Were you here the whole night?" the bald man asked.

"W-who are you? Why's it your business?" Nuit flared with rage. He was completely nude and exposed as the girl had pulled the sheets away to cover herself. Nuit turned to rage instead of embarrassment from being stared at naked by so many people here.

"Answer his question," bellowed Captain Horic with a stern look.

"Yes, Sir! I've been here the whole time." He had no choice but to shield his crotch with a pillow.

The bald man picked up the uniform piled up on the ground one article after another. He found some traces of alcohol, food stains and dust on the ground. It looked like it had been there for a long time.

The bald man poked his chin up and Louis brought two other people inside, a male servant and a maidservant with a stunning figure. They looked at Nuit and shook their heads. "It's not him."

After that, they looked at the uniform in the bald man's hands and shook their heads. The uniform the killer wore was clean and tidy, yet this one was stained all over with a pungent smell of alcohol. They could at least tell that much.

The bald man furrowed his brow and threw the uniform to Nuit, who pitifully put them on in a hurry.

"Were you drunk yesterday? When did you fall asleep?" the bald man asked.

"Ummm... I don't remember the exact time. It was really late, if anything. I went at it with her three or four times, I can't be sure. I think I heard the roosters crowing before I fell asleep. That's why I slept till this late and didn't even notice you lot coming in..." No man would admit to underperforming in bed with a woman, and Nuit was no exception. Given that he forgot things after getting drunk, he boasted like he would usually. The bald detective had perfectly figured out what was going on in Nuit's head.

Chapter 171 - Suspicion

The bald detective didn't take Nuit's boasting seriously, of course. He didn't think Nuit was intentionally lying though. He had seen many men like him in the military. He'd looked up the lieutenant's background before coming. Though he seemed to fit the assailant's description best, he was evidently not involved.

He moved to the desk and casually looked over the things on it. His gaze paused on the bottle of whiskey for a moment. He lifted it up, smelt it, and turned it over. A single droplet coalesced on the rim, which he licked up and tasted. Nothing was wrong, he decided, and put the bottle down unhappily. He looked like an alcoholic to others, but he didn't care.

"I find something rather curious... How can you afford a bottle of 571 whiskey for a single night with your fling on your salary? This bottle is at least two and a half thales, that's nearly a whole paycheck for you, not to mention you wouldn't have gotten yours yet this month. You don't strike me as the kind to have free money just lying around either. Where did you get it?" the bald man asked.

Nuit really wanted to tell the man to shove it, but he didn't dare do so while his captain stared at him like that.

"I got it from Claude. I happened to bump into him as he was heading out of town. I begged him for a bottle from the crate he has in his office."

The bald man walked out without a another sound. Nuit grabbed Bjard as he was leaving.

"What's going on? What made you all barge into my place so early in the morning?"

Perhaps because Nuit had been investigated, and appeared to be free of suspicion, Bjard dropped his act.

"Don't you know? Somebody assassinated Sir Fux last night, and he did it after infiltrating the mansion in a naval officer's uniform.

"The mayor had me out of bed before sunrise and dragged me to Fux Manor. The servants said a first lieutenant who called himself Abraham had come to see the councillor late last night. None of the other lieutenants were out of base last night, however, only you."

"Huh? A councillor was killed? Wargod above, this is huge..." Nuit's jaw nearly broke the floorboard.

"I gotta go. It's fine now, take the afternoon and recover from your hangover, maybe bed your wench a couple more times. You're on duty tonight... Oh, and we broke down the door on our way in, so you better fix it."

"Wait a second, what's that old baldie's job? Why haven't I seen him before?"

Bjard shrugged.

"Beats me. I forgot his name. I think he's a famous detective from the royal capital or something."

Viscount Wenisk had put his anger at his lieutenant's poor showing to bed by the time he got on the carriage. He was rather conflicted. All of his lieutenants so far seemed innocent. Nuit was the only one that might cause trouble for himself.

Wenisk hoped the man was innocent; if he was guilty, it would ruin Wenisk's career and soil the navy's reputation. On the other hand, if he wasn't, then they had no leads so far.

Joseph joined him with his usual gloomy expression.

"Is it him?" Wenisk asked hesitantly.

"No."

"Who's Claude?" the detective asked.

"Who? Claude?"

Joseph nodded.

"Can't be him. He's only 18. His father was driven to suicide by Sir Fux, but the debt's already been paid. His patron, Baroness Maria handled everything. He repaid his debt to her by helping out with Normanley Real Estate."

"His father was forced to commit suicide? Care to elaborate?"

"I only know what I do second ear, but I heard some six thousand people attended the funeral. No one in town is happy with Sir Fux, or... was. I don't know the details, all I know is it was apparently the councillor's doing. You should ask Captain Horic, he knows the town better than I do."

Horic had not been in town much longer than Wenisk, but he had worked closely with the townsfolk, especially Normanley Real Estate and, through it, Claude. He was their best shot at a clear recounting of events. He had told Wenisk a little about what he knew, though that was mostly focused on how the debacle would affect the councillor's future political prospects. They hadn't been good. A good portion of the town had already formed a coalition to ensure he was not re-elected.

Joseph's eyes brightened.

"Let's pay Claude a visit."

"He should be working in Normanley Real Estate's office," Wenisk said, "You don't suspect him, do you? He doesn't look like a killer at all."

"Let's just pay him a visit. We've cleared the navy, so now we move on to those most closely associated with it in town. This Claude is just that, and he has a motive for wanting the councillor dead. And you say he's a good hunter and fighter? He seems to fit the bill perfectly so far."

The carriage stopped in front of the company's three-storey headquarters a couple minutes later. Wenisk led the detective inside. He had the rest of the men wait outside, to Joseph's surprise. Wenisk merely mentioned that the company was owned by Baroness Maria and Joseph understood.

Claude's office was in the prime position on the ground floor. He was in the middle of reprimanding a designer for getting measurements wrong and ruining a design.

Looking at Claude's loose, brown-black hair, pale face and the shadow around his eye, Wenisk raised his eyebrow towards the detective. 'See? I told you he looked completely different from the killer,' he seemed to suggest.

Upon seeing Wenisk enter, Claude waved the designer away and welcomed the two apologetically.

"It can't be, Lord Viscount, are you here to rush me for the plans again? You're getting a little too impatient... I told you it'd be settled after you decide where you want the brothel to be. There are no other issues. I can't finish the designs until you decide. Look at my eyes. I haven't slept for days because of your plans..."

"Ahem--" Wenisk cleared his throat awkwardly. "--Um, Claude, I'm not here to talk about the plans. Detective Joseph wants to have a word with you."

"Detective Joseph?" Claude glanced at the silent, bald man. "Talk to me? About what? It isn't a background check for my admission to the army, is it? I don't recall such a thing. Doesn't city hall know everything already?"

"Good to see you, Claude," Joseph said, his eyes fixed on the boy, "I've come to talk to you about Sir Fux."

"What? Sir Fux?--" Claude's face darkened immediately and he glared at the suddenly unwelcome intruder. "I must apologise, Sir, but I have nothing to talk about in relation to that man."

"He forced your father into suicide, didn't he? Don't you hate him?" Joseph asked.

The veins on Claude's forehead nearly burst, but he took several deep, surreptitious breaths and calmed himself.

"You had best leave, Sir. As you have heard, I have work to do." Claude pointed to the door.

Joseph sighed. He'd hoped to pick up on something, but the boy acted exactly as he would expect an innocent, affronted young man to. In fact, his self-restraint was impeccable. He either didn't know about the councillor's death at all, or he was a very good actor.

"Sir Fux is dead. His corpse was found in his house last night," the detective said when he saw the muscled young man actually make to shove him out of the office himself.

The boy's eyes literally lit up with happiness for a moment, then dimmed with dissatisfaction and disappointment. Joseph knew that look too well. It was the look of someone who'd been robbed of revenge.

Claude's eyes continued to change, however. A moment later they were burning with rage. He actually grabbed Joseph by the collar, lifted him off his feet effortlessly, and shook him like a doll.

"You're shitting me, aren't you?! That old thing isn't dead; he can't be dead! Who dared kill that bastard!"

"Claude, let go!" Wenisk bellowed, "Sir Fux is dead. I saw his corpse myself."

Joseph watched as the boy held him up in the air for a moment longer, then dropped him as he deflated like a balloon. He trudged back to his desk and collapsed into his chair haphazardly.

"How can that thing just die... Who killed him?! Ah, I had it all planned! That bastard escaped me! F*ck..."

"You had it all planned?" Wenisk asked.

"Next year's election... his status as a councillor--" The boy hugged his head. "--I'd planned everything with Uncle Thomas. I would make sure he'd lose the election and force him to live in town like a miserable commoner. I wanted to make him suffer for at least a decade. Damnit, why did he have to go and get himself killed! F*cker!"

"So savage..."

Wenisk secretly shot Claude a thumbs-up.

Chapter 172 - Dispelling Doubt

"I still have a question," Wenisk said, "Claude, why are you so certain you would have made Sir Fux lose the election? As far as I know, he's been Whitestag's councillor for five terms. I mean, this town's his strongest support base. He practically owns the entire town as well."

Aueras held elections every five years and only dignitarians had the franchise.

Claude glanced at the viscount calmly, his reason returning.

"Since you know that, why did you argue with him over the base's development?"

"Haha... uhh... Actually, before I was appointed here, someone in the royal capital warned me to cooperate with him so there wouldn't be any complications. I asked Lady Maria and she explained things to me. She said he was usually very arrogant. She told me to ignore him and give him a slap or two if I had to. I had all the power between the two of us. As a military officer, I am beholden only to the king, not the lower council.

"I didn't initially want to bother with him. The construction of the naval base is a decree of the kingdom and has nothing to do with him. But he was far too greedy and kept on appropriating land within the planned area of the base after the announcement was made without the slightest care and only gave a little compensation for the folk of the slums he forcefully evicted. He didn't think I'd be involved in this matter after he caused such a huge scandal, so I drove out his real estate development company from the slums in a fit of rage.

"One time, he didn't learn his lesson and even sought me out, demanding to be given the tender to construct the naval base completely. He wanted me to raise the price to discourage others from taking it. He'd make a killing and offered me a cut. I was affronted that he'd suggest I might lack money, so I kicked him out."

"Get me some alcohol. My throat's dry," he said, his excitement building, "Well, after that, he even tried to get the mayor, who was a baron, I believe, to force the farms nearby to not sell us any fresh fruits and vegetables. He wanted to force me to cave with that. But he didn't think that the mayor would fail the audits and get arrested, putting an end to that scheme of his.

"After that, he even sought me out thick-skinnedly during the banquet hosted by Mayor Felidos and offered to construct the naval base according to market price with standard quality and processes. I turned to leave right away without bothering with him and humiliated him publicly. I was both shocked and a little delighted myself to find that he was killed today. He totally deserved what was coming to him!"

Claude took out a bottle of whiskey from the carton beside his desk and two shot glasses. He opened the bottle and poured both Wenisk and Joseph half shots each.

Joseph looked at the carton.

"Three bottles already gone?."

Claude pointed at the corner of the room.

"Two are over there. They work wonders on mosquitos. Lieutenant Nuit asked for one last night. I forgot to tell him to bring it back once he's finished. Even just the bottles are expensive."

Joseph squatted and looked at the two bottles. A couple mosquitos drifted inside.

"A good idea indeed. Far better than the dizzying smell those damn incenses leave," Joseph said, "Why give such an expensive whiskey to the lieutenant though?"

"It wasn't really a gift. He was helping me finish it. I didn't like it much. I prefer blueberry wine. It had been sitting on my desk for a week when I gave it to him."

Wenisk put down his cup and refilled it.

"You're just 18, boy, you don't know the wonders of women or good liquor. Let's hear it. What ploy did you have to make the councillor fall from grace."

Claude smiled bitterly.

"What's the point of talking about it now? He's dead. My arrangements are nothing now."

"I just wanna hear how you were planning to do it," the viscount pushed.

"Actually, the reason that old thing got elected in the first place was my father and Uncle Thomas. They propped him up all this time. He needed 270 votes to get elected, and my father had enough clout to get him them.

"When Whitestag was still under Baromiss' jurisdiction, that old thing served 24 years as a councillor and formed a large net of connections in the prefectural capital. If the town hall needed anything, he would bring the request up to the prefectural capital. That was how my father and the others gradually lost their hold and became mere puppets he controlled from behind the scenes.

"For instance, he was the one who directed the search for a new trade route to Nubissia. He hid behind the scenes while my father and the others did most of the work and investment into the risky venture. After the route was discovered, he stopped them from reporting it to the kingdom because he wanted to make a profitable trade voyage first. That was how my father got scammed by him and helped him find ships and cargo and even signed a promissory note with him..."

Claude slammed his fist harshly on the desk, greatly startling Wenisk and Joseph.

"I won't deny that I hate that old thing. He ruined my family. But I won't kill him that easily. What I want is for him to lose everything. If Whitestag had remained the same, perhaps it would've taken me a long time to get an opportunity for revenge. But since the kingdom decided to construct a naval base here and make this a city under the jurisdiction of the royal capital, I discovered a great chance."

He looked up at Wenisk and said, "Lord Viscount, how many council members will Whitestag have after being raised to city status?"

Wenisk started with realization at the question. "Three, three council members."

The boy nodded. "Back then, nobody was willing to compete with the old thing. Since he already had deep connections in the prefectural capital, even if another council member was elected, the prefectural capital would find all sorts of excuses to delegitimize the vote. But now that Whitestag is under royal capital control, Lady Maria promised me that the Council of Dignitarians would accept new council member nominations.

"Additionally, how he caused my father to commit suicide with his scheme is widely known in town. Uncle Thomas and the others would've been running for the next election, and the old thing forgot that he's actually nothing to be contended with, having reigned uncontested for so long. What could he do to get more votes? Buy them with money? How much could he pay for each vote?

"I prepared five thousand crowns this time around for that express purpose. No matter how much he pays, I would double my offer. I was waiting for next year's election and I wanted to see the look on his face after he failed to get elected. When Uncle Thomas and the others assume office, they could submit an inquiry into the public projects being carried out in the past few years when the town expanded eastward.

"My father said that the old thing had lots of under-table earnings from faking suppliers, raising prices, suppressing wages and all sorts of bribery in those projects. Not a single one of them could withstand the slightest scrutiny. If an investigation was to be launched, he wouldn't be able to distance himself from them at all. It wasn't impossible for him to be jailed or sent to the labor camps.

"That is the ideal revenge scenario for me," Claude said with a crestfallen look, "But he had it easy. He died a swift death. I don't even have a chance to pay him back for what he did. I really wish it turned out differently."

After a pause, he looked up. "By the way, Lord Viscount, can you tell me how he died? I hope it's as painful as possible. Perhaps that might make up for my disappointment the slightest bit."

Wenisk looked at Joseph, saw that he didn't object, and recounted the whole circumstance behind Sir Fux and his butler's death as well as the details of the autopsy and how they were going to approach the investigation.

Claude looked at Joseph surprisingly and thought, I didn't think that fella was that capable. Thank the gods my performance was perfect.

"What do you think about it?" Wenisk asked. Claude might have a different view that could help them in the matter. His revenge plot was incredibly intricate and detailed after all.

He mulled it over and said hesitantly, "I think you're approaching the investigation wrong."

Joseph stared at Claude even more intensely.

"Lord Viscount, you told me that the detective here thinks that the killer might be an assassin or a contract killer, and I'm inclined to agree. But if that's the case, the killer might've left Whitestag long ago instead of staying here and waiting for you to find him.

"Additionally, we still don't know the motive of the killer. It is indeed suspicious that he disguised himself as a naval officer to ask to meet the old thing by saying he had an urgent letter that needed delivery. If I were the killer, I would simply sneak into his manor, find the old thing and give him a few stabs. Quick and simple. I wouldn't have to knock at his front door and cause such a huge commotion at all and risk alerting the butler and the other servants.

"That's why I suspect that the killer doesn't even know the old thing at all. That's why he disguised himself and requested to be shown inside to make sure he wouldn't get the wrong target. Since he didn't pilfer any money or documents after the kill, I believe that the killer could be trying to silence the old thing or to vent.

"If I were in charge of this case, I wouldn't look for the killer at all. Instead, I would focus on finding any possible motive for the murder in his manor itself. I would search his documents and journals and so on. Maybe there's a lead somewhere among the people he offended, or maybe he reneged someone in his dark dealings. The killer could also have been hired by people over there..."

Claude pointed at the south in the direction of the prefectural capital.

"Why would you think so?" Wenisk asked.

"Whitestag will come under royal capital jurisdiction soon. The old thing would no longer have to rely on the folks in the prefectural capital."

Wenisk was genuinely surprised at the revelation. Joseph explored that train of thought with a keen interest.

"But if that is discovered, a lot of people will be involved..." muttered Wenisk.

Claude shrugged. "At least Mayor Felidos and you wouldn't be."

Joseph turned to leave Wenisk followed along. Claude hurried to send them off. Their carriages and men were waiting outside the office building.

Joseph approached Beed and Cerna and whispered, "Look at the young man that followed us out. Does he look like First Lieutenant Abraham?"

Beed shook his head, "Not at all."

Cerna on the other hand propped out her bust. "That little pervert keeps on looking in my direction and even blushes... An interesting little kid indeed..."

Joseph entered the carriage immediately. "Come, you two, let's go back to the manor."

Chapter 173 - Repurcussions

Claude whistled softly as he watched the viscount and detective leave. He had finally passed the ordeal. He had known he would be one of the suspects because of his father's death. He didn't think they would come so quickly though. He'd thought it would take at least three days.

He calmly thought back at what happened and after making sure that there were no holes in his performance and story, he returned to the office. It seemed that he ought not look down on the intelligence of people no matter what world they were in. Had he not intentionally cast suspicion on himself to lead the direction of the case elsewhere, he would've been arrested as the killer.

For instance, Detective Joseph was really calm. As Wenisk spoke to Claude, Joseph had his eyes trailed on the latter the whole time without missing a single shift in his expression. Fortunately, his business negotiations with his boss back on old Earth helped him develop the ability to act completely innocent and out of the know, allowing him to put up a convincing act.

Wenisk wasn't a simple person either. Even though he seemed quite carefree on the surface, he was collaborating perfectly with Joseph by trying to get more out of Claude. Yet, he didn't realise that gave Claude the opportunity to perform his skit in its entirety to convince them that he wasn't involved. Claude mostly spoke the truth, anyway. A simple check by them would reveal that there were indeed arrangements prepared to get Sir Fux to fail the election.

With a better revenge plot in hand, nobody would suspect Claude to be the killer. Claude had truly intended to execute that plan, but he no longer had any more time. He would have to leave for Kafreizit in a week to join Bluefeather. New recruits and officers alike wouldn't be allowed to go home to meet their relatives until their first three years of service was over per the kingdom's regulations.

Claude was worried that after he left, his plot would be altered. After all, Sir Fux did serve as the council member representing Whitestag for 24 consecutive years. Whitestag was his power base and while Morssen's suicide cast quite a shadow on him, the election was going to take place next year and there was still some time until then. People were forgetful and Sir Fux only had to toss them a few bones. The number of people who would turn on their own promises would be too many to count.

Should Sir Fux be elected again, even if Whitestag had two other councillors, they wouldn't be able to compete with the old bastard with all his connections. They would be too green, nuisances at most. He'd been pushed to make sure that would not happen, and now that he could not undo the man, he had to kill him. He could not leave him be with him gone and unable to protect his family.

Like Claude had told the viscount and the detective, he only had to sneak inside the manor and look for the old thing when nobody was watching. A few shanks with a blade would take care of the problem. But that way, Claude would automatically be included in the top three suspect list. Even if he had an alibi, he was only delaying the inevitable. The more detailed the investigation became, the larger his chance of becoming exposed.

Thus, the best way to commit the murder was to make it as complicated as possible to mislead the investigators. The flaws in reasoning would pile up one after another and the deeper one delved into it, the more pitfalls there would be. If they ever found out that they had been led on a carousel, a lot of time would've been wasted, and the initial impetus for finding the killer would've long been replaced by a political one, which would be ideal for the politicians. The presidential scandals of the leader of the free world in his previous life were such examples.

That was what Claude had planned for. After receiving Maria's letter that informed him about the new branch of the Watch in Whitestag in light of recent developments, he gave up on using magic to assassinate Sir Fux. Instead, he used a simple disguise to approach his target and finished the deed. Not only did that allow him to elude the fate of being pursued by the Watch, it also managed to mislead Joseph and remove suspicion from himself.

In the following days, news about Sir Fux's murder spread through town. Uncle Thomas was elated to hear the man's karmic fate. In fact, he believed he should've died long ago. As the ex-chief constable of Whitestag, Thomas wasn't the least bit hesitant to talk about his reservations for Sir Fux. He said that the old man had deep connections in the prefectural capital and any development project in town had to be passed by him first before permission could be requested from the prefectural capital.

Even though Claude already planned to pull the old thing down from the elections next year, Thomas wasn't quite that confident. He was worried that Sir Fux would sabotage his candidacy and cause him to be unable to participate. With the man now dead, a huge obstacle had been removed. It was truly far too lucky.

But after a few more days, the topic of Sir Fux's murder suddenly stopped being spread around as if it never happened in the first place. After Thomas found out what was going on, he told Claude secretively that Felidos and Wenisk found lots of proof of illegal dealings at Fux Manor and it was said to eclipse tens of thousands of crowns in value.

That was a stunning figure to behold. Even the royal capital no longer pestered Felidos to find the murderer, focusing their priorities instead on unearthing the back-door dealings. The archives in city hall for the past decade were frozen for auditors from the royal capital to check. The two people in charge of channelling the funds in the national bank had also been detained. What awaited them was endless interrogation until they confessed everything.

Claude breathed a sigh of relief at how the whole case no longer concerned him. Sir Fux and Wharf's sudden deaths had caused proof of those illegal dealings to be found. All he had to do was give a slight push to prompt Felidos and Wenisk to turn their attention to the manor. There wasn't anything more eye-catching for the royal capital than those dealings. That would help mitigate the consequences the navy would face for the murder of a council member.

His father had mentioned in a lesson for Arbeit that the eastward expansion of Whitestag was mainly spearheaded by Sir Fux. Some of the dealings didn't even have to go through the town hall and the negotiations were conducted in private with the few people in power in the prefectural capital. The funds would then be funnelled through the national bank into Sir Fux's personal account. How the profits were split, however, wasn't something Morssen could've hoped to know.

Morssen, the town secretary at the time, hated being summoned by the prefectural capital the most. That meant the negotiations for the expansion was already over and only Sir Fux's signature was required. He would be the supervisor of the project and be in charge of ensuring the quality of the work. Every detail about the nature of the expansion, the prices, its start and deadline were unknown. All Morssen could do was to relay what he heard at the meeting to Sir Fux, who would proceed to deal with the matters himself.

He had hoped that sending his son over to Sir Fux would allow him to gather some evidence to be used against him so that he could turn the tables in the town hall in the future should he wish. Pushing down Sir Fux completely was impossible as he had a huge network in the prefectural capital. Whitestag was but a mere small town under the jurisdiction of that place and the slightest rumour would no doubt enter Sir Fux's ear.

Fortunately, the old crook loved to swallow all the benefits himself without splitting any with the town hall. The eastward expansion was a complete black-box operation. The town hall only cooperated in a limited capacity to produce some superficial documentation. That was the reason Thomas and the former treasurer and some others weren't involved and could instead watch the shitshow unfold from the sidelines. Quite a number of people in the prefectural capital were apprehended and countless others were dragged into the maelstrom. The case had become the number-one corruption scandal of the southwestern area of the kingdom.

Fux Manor, the largest estate in Whitestag, had been thoroughly checked. All of Sir Fux's family members and relatives were either arrested or kept confined within the manor. One of Thomas' old coworkers who was involved in the investigation revealed when he was drunk how daring Sir Fux actually was. He had faked two small projects that cost around a thousand crowns without doing anything at all. That was all he did to siphon funds from the prefectural capital into his own pocket.

That wasn't the only thing. There were many deals that couldn't be checked in time. However, Sir Fux kept an account for all his dealings and profits as well as a name list. A few large figures in the royal capital were also involved, much to the shock of many.

But all that was no longer relevant to Claude. He took the old thing's life with his own hands and managed to get away scot-free. Now, the only other person he held a grudge against was the boss of Blacksnake, Butcher Bill. He wasn't sure whether the man was lucky or unlucky. He was now trapped in the camp at the stone outpost far away from Whitestag. Since there was no way Claude would go all the way there to kill him, he had no choice but to leave him alive for now.

Fortunately, Bidlir had lost all his influence in town. Blacksnake was no more and their territory had been taken by the navy. All he had now was his position in the garrison. If he played his cards right, he could be promoted. He would not get far, however. Felidos, an ex-military man himself, had no eyes for Bidlir because of his background, and would not let him rise too far.

As Claude's day of departure inched ever so closer and Viscount Wenisk had his full attention focused on the investigation of the corruption scandal, the plans of the naval base were no longer held back by the viscount. The plans were passed easily and Rodan hurriedly had the buildings in the western sector flattened so that construction could begin for real.

Claude had also finished all the work he had left at Normanley Real Estate. He was going to take two days off before leaving Whitestag to embark on his new journey.

Chapter 174 - Eve of Departure

The breeze was cool and refreshing, like water slipping between fingers. The stars shone brightly in the navy sky -- gemstones on fine velvet.

"You're leaving tomorrow morning. Have anything else to say to me?" Kefnie asked, pouting.

Claude smiled with resignation, internally. He knew exactly what she wanted him to say, but he could not bring himself to do so. Those three words were beyond his power to give her. That did not, however, mean he could not give her the appropriate hint or three.

He slapped his hand around the girl's waist and half-twirled her into his chest. Neither said a word, not that they could even if they wished to, as their mouths and tongues were otherwise occupied. Kefnie thought about struggling for a moment, but then her body took over and forced her to give in. She didn't have the strength to lift her arms and wrap them around Claude's neck. The best she could do was hold onto the bottom of his shirt as she fought against her knees giving way under her.

The two stood like animated statues for nearly a minute while Claude explored her as he wished, then the came back up for breath.

"My lips... are swelling..." the girl gasped.

"Don't talk nonsense. They're just as small as always. Let's sit down, I can feel your knees can't handle me much longer."

He knew of a couple rocks nearby, and half-dragged, half-carried his girl there. He found a patch clean enough for sitting, sprinkled some perfumed water on the ground, and pulled Kefnie into the little nest he'd prepared.

"What's this wonderful smell?" Kefnie asked, sniffing the air like a kitten.

Claude smiled as he stashed his little secret.

"Oh nothing. It's just a little flowery concoction I made one day. I call it Florida Water. It keeps the bugs away."

"You're just showing off now, aren't you, Claude Ferd? I'll be disappointed if you don't become a top apothecary in the near future."

Beauty was always greatest in a lover. He'd all but sealed their fate when he'd cornered her and stolen her first kiss. He didn't doubt she'd compliment a fart if it was his.

"For you," he said, taking another vial out and handing it to her, "If you dab some on your wrists and neck, you'll smell great, and won't be bothered by pesky insects."

"Do you have some for yourself? It must have been very hard to make, so you can't have a lot." his girl asked hesitantly, toying with the small vial.

"I don't need it. I made it specially for you."

That was not entirely the truth, however. He'd been prompted to make the incense when he saw his little brother stung to bits after a day out in the wood. His mother and sister each had a vial as well.

"Thanks."

His girl wrapped him in her arms and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

Perfumes, incense water and oils did exist on Freia, but the incredible difficulty of their production, as well as the ridiculous cost to their ingredients, meant only the richest and most elite could afford it, even Whitestag's elite wouldn't have a bottle of even the cheap stuff unless they were super lucky. Kefnie's status was so low she'd not even heard of perfume, however, so this was a whole new world for her. She positively glowed at the gift.

"It must be expensive, right? I bet you could make a good living off making and selling this," Claude's girl said after another smooch.

It seemed perfume made her quite amorous.

"Well... It should be possible; there are many steps involved though. It's not quite cheap, I'm afraid. The ingredients are quite expensive. It should get a little less expensive if it's made in large enough bulk, but I'm not too sure."

Claude had found a recipe for Florida Water from one of the many books he'd read over the years. The original recipe, however, resulted in a pungent liquid what chased humans away about as much as it did insects. He switched out a couple of the aromatics for fruit reductions and concentrates and the like.

He'd used the alchemical array despite it being quite doable using just good old-fashioned chemistry to demonstrate the array's use to his sister. He wanted her to be proficient in its use and he couldn't take his time to teach her since he was about to leave. He'd also moved away from using normal chemistry evermore as he got better with the array. It was infinitely more convenient than doing things manually. It usually took days to go through the whole process, weeks for the harder scents, but he could make a vial in just an hour.

He hadn't even thought of how to make the incense without the use of magic until Kefnie asked about it. The idea of starting a family business wasn't bad, now that he'd chewed the thought a few times. If his sister could handle the array side of things, it would be yet another revenue source for the family.

"Do you want to learn, Kefnie? If you want, I can teach you," he offered.

"Yes! Please teach me!"

"I only have a month, but I'll write everything down for you. You won't be going home tonight... will your sister come to the wood looking for you?"

"No. She knows I'm with you. I told her I might... might not be back tonight..."

Kefnie's voice had faded to a whisper by the end and her face burned Claude through his shirt.

Claude was more troubled by her initiative than he'd thought he'd be when he'd considered this possibility. He was no longer the successful bachelor he had been. He was also not very enthusiastic about the idea of spoiling her good before leaving for the army and possibly dying.

"Let's fetch Anna. You two should learn it together. If you ever grow tired of Normanley Real Estate, you two can start a factory together."

Far from impossible and easy were not the same thing. While it was entirely possible to make Florida Water without the use of magic, it was a damn pain in the neck. At least one trouble had been taken care of already; the ingredients were all ready and waiting. They'd been drying for several days.

The ingredients were diced finely, then milled into a fine powder which was boiled in quasi-distilled water. The solution was left to sit and settle for several more days, then the sediment was filtered out to leave a clean, clear, gently-coloured liquid which was sealed in small vials. The oils and alcohol were not mixed, however, so the vial had to be shaken for half an hour to incorporate everything.

The three worked together until everything was finished. The only thing left to do was to bottle the liquid and shake it. The trio couldn't do that that night, however, since they didn't have any vials.

"Just leave it sealed in the pot for now. Buy the small vials when you have time and bottle everything then. Put vials in beautiful packaging or wrapping if you can. It'll sell much better if it has an air of luxury about it. Just leave it shut tight inside the pot so that the smell doesn't leak. I suggest that you two try to mass produce them to make a fortune out of it."

Angelina yawned.

"Time to tidy up. We still have to send you off tomorrow. I'll walk Sis Kefnie home after you've left."

Claude stroked her hair.

"Okay. But you get some sleep. I'll clean up. Kefnie is staying over as well."

"Okay. I'll head to bed, then. I don't want to get in the way of you two on your last night here."

Angelina giggled behind the closed door before vanishing into her room.

Kefnie's face was an arousing peach colour when Claude turned his gaze to her and she fumbled about nervously. She'd spent days preparing herself, and she'd thought it'd been enough, but she now realised nothing could be enough to prepare her for this moment.

"Why are you fidgeting like a caffeinated squirrel? Come over here. The sofa's much more comfortable," Claude teased.

The sofa had been a gift from his mistress. It had originally been made to order for her laboratory for evenings when she was too lazy to walk the dozen or so metres to her bed.

It was more of a recliner than a sofa, really. He sprinkled a liberal dose of Florida Water on while Kefnie scooped up her courage and dragged herself closer. Claude swept her off her feet and plunged into the sofa with her still in his arms. He made sure his dive blew out the lamp as well.

Kefnie buried her head in Claude's chest again, and he could feel her heat from his chest down to his legs, where hers intertwined with his.

"What are you doing? Are you an earthworm?" he asked, kissing her cheek sloppily, "Don't worry. Nothing's happening tonight. If it does, it'll be on a grand bed the size of this room. We won't get up for three days!"

"Hah, you're the only one who'd be that lazy!" his girl said, pinching his chest.

"Stop messing around. I want to cuddle tonight."

He said that, but barely a minute later his hands were kneading her buns. His girl gasped at first, then squealed, and wriggled about, but she didn't make an effort to get away from him. Instead her hands dug into the blanket Claude had tossed over the two of them just in case his sister or little brother showed up.

"When is the wedding?" Claude asked as if nothing was happening.

"Wedding?" Kefnie asked, half excited and half apprehensive.

"Between your sister and Jerad. They've been at it for years now, surely it's about time they tied themselves into knots?"

"Oh... I think they said something about six months. Jerad and about 40 of his old subordinates have joined the navy. I heard Pravet, the fleet's flag officer, appreciates his abilities with the sail. He's been pegged for a supply command."

"I see. And what about the venue? They took your house, didn't they? Is it going to be held in Mermaid?"

"No. They've moved out of the tavern. Jerad's been given permission to buy a house in the base thanks to his prospective rank. He's already applied for the loan. The wedding and housewarming will be the same event."

Claude supposed that was the inevitable difference between the army and the navy. In the army you had to start right down in the bottom of the well even with decent skills. Claude was a rare exception. In the navy, show just an ounce of something resembling talent and you were practically an officer already.

Also, Jerad's training would be just a couple months, three at most. Claude's journey to become an officer, on the other hand, would be three years. He was suddenly severely tempted to join the navy. A key part of promotion in the navy, however, was financial contribution to the navy. Claude had only a couple thousand crowns left, and his expenses would not be small given his involvement with magic. He could not afford to pay his way up the ranks.

Not that any of that actually mattered. He was already bound to the army. Even with all the money and will in the world, he could not change his future now, at least not where the army was concerned.

Claude watched as Kefnie drifted away in his arms, breathing slowly, deeply, and gently, and kissed her forehead and cheeks a couple more times before falling asleep himself.

Chapter 175 - En Route

The coach rumbled along the path.

"Uncle Oask, aren't you going a little too fast? It's too much for the coach!" Claude yelped as he hopped out of the coach and sat beside Oask, the coachman.

"Go, go!" Oask croaked as he cracked the whip again, "We have no choice. We delayed our departure too long. If we don't hurry, we'll have to camp in Blackforest. Wolves infest the place. It's not safe to spend the night in the forest. We need to make it to Blackwood before nightfall. We're not a convoy, we don't have an escort."

Claude sweated coldly. There was no choice. His departure had been delayed because of the prolonged send-off.

It was the 20th of the 8th month, and Claude was on his way to Kafreizit. It would take him a week to get there, but he left early to have leeway for delays along the way. He would also have enough time to get used to his new surroundings by reporting in a few days early and ensure that he didn't arrive late because of some freak accident.

He hired Oask's long-distance coach service for the journey and paid a high price of two crowns for the man to send him all the way to the city of Gourneygada within the prefecture, where the base on Fokby Hill was located. However, he only got to leave at eleven despite having planned to depart at nine thanks to the sheer number of people who were there for him. Only after bidding each and every relative, friend and associate farewell was he able to leave.

His mother had gotten up first thing in the morning to make him one last breakfast, wiping away tears all the way. She saw him come out of the laboratory with Kefnie practically dangling off his shoulder. Her smile nearly split her face when she heard the girl had stayed the night. She practically started planning the wedding and picking baby names that very moment.

Neither Claude nor Kefnie could get the red out of their faces for the rest of the morning.

It took them nearly an hour to get her to calm down, though they couldn't get her to stop insisting Kefnie move in the very next day. They did manage to finish breakfast, however, and Claude vanished to his room to finish packing. His mother saddled him with yet another bag, which he discovered had a complete winter wardrobe for him.

He nearly died at the thought of showing up at the camp with those obviously mother-made things. He'd probably never live that down. He had to explain to his mother that he was joining the army and that such things were really not appropriate for nearly another hour before the finally took the bag back. Besides, the army would issue him with everything he needed.

The morning had nearly all gone by by the time he finally made it to his meet-up spot with Oask, family in tow. He found a crowd of friends and business associates waiting for him, and saying goodbye to everyone took another hour.

Oask was a dignitarian and had served in the army for fifteen years to earn his title. He became a guard for hire, spending most of his time with convoys. He eventually bought a coach and started his own personal transport business. It didn't make a lot of money, but he didn't have any grand ambitions of wealth. It was enough for a modest living, and it kept the boredom away, so he was happy.

The trip cost Claude two crowns, one of which would be pure profit, quite a bit more than he would usually make, so he was happy to take the job. That didn't mean he was too patient about the delay, however. He couldn't say much, however, since most of the people who'd come to say goodbye to his customer were elites from the town.

"Why are there wolf packs in Blackforest? I haven't heard people mention them for quite a while now."

There was only one hilly path to the east of Whitestag and it was the only exit for the whole of the three southwestern prefectures so far. The path crossed two large mountains before leading to the prefecture of Ambruiz. But before arriving there, one had to first traverse the area covered by Blackforest. Fortunately, the path that led to Blackwood Town was at the sides of Blackforest and it would only take around six hours to traverse, instead of having to go through the endless core of the jungle.

Before reaching Kafreizit, he had to first pass through five prefectures, namely, Ambruiz, Kugria, Chanyalar, Krusig and Limasosya. As Oask would put it, if the journey was smooth, they could arrive at their destination within six days. Apart from Limasosya, the four other prefectures were mostly flatlands and transportation was well developed there. The roads were maintained well and easy for coaches to traverse.

"Blackforest has always had packs of wolves living in it. It's just that they don't approach areas densely populated by humans," Oask said, "Around seven or eight years ago, the garrison of Blackwood Town launched a large-scale wolf elimination operation and hired near four hundred hunters to wipe out the wolves inside Blackforest. More than three hundred wolves died from that operation, nearly all those roaming at the edges of the forest have been killed. Children could finally go into the forest near the streams to pick mushrooms without any danger.

"But some two months ago, a trading convoy reported the presence of wolves in the area, around seven or eight of them. They only observed the convoy from far away and didn't dare to approach. After that, some other traders would report hearing their howls. While there hasn't been any case of injury yet, Blackwood Town already released a notice to traders journeying to cross the forest not to travel alone in case they got into trouble."

"Weird... Why didn't Whitestag receive any such notice?"

"Simple. Whitestag mostly sends large trading convoys to Ambruiz. Even lone peddlers or journeying merchants would join up with one such convoy or go to Port Neru. There are seldom people who travel alone through the woods," Oask explained.

"What if we do meet a pack? I knew I should've brought my crossbow."

"It's fine. I have my arbalest, longbow, hunting musket, shortsword and handaxe here. Packs of six or seven wolves aren't anything to worry about. What we can't do is to camp in the forest. It'd be hard for only the two of us to defend the horses and the coach too."

Claude, however, was shocked to hear that. "Uncle Oask, why haven't I seen a single weapon you brought with you? Where did you hide it?"

"It's all under my seat. They're for keeping me safe on my trips. I have to store them well, don't I?" Oask said plainly.

"So long-distance coaches have to bring so many weapons along... Is our kingdom that unsafe?"

"It's not a matter of the kingdom's safety. The cities, towns and villages are quite safe, but the cross border checks are really strict. Since you have a conscription order and a passport, there's nothing you have to worry about. What we have to watch out for are bandits, deserters and escaped convicts on the way. Those people won't be admitted into settlements, so they prey on rushing trading convoys or travelers. Some of them would even set up an ambush in more rural areas to rob supplies.

"Last time, I sent a whole family to the city of Mariak in Tamurus. That area is infested with bandits. Most of them had escaped from labour camps and robbed in the mountains. The local garrison and the Tamurus keepers raided them many times, but always failed to eradicate them. That's the reason travelers or convoys passing through that area must hire security escorts. But when I returned, I saw the Griffon corps build a base in the hilly areas where the bandits operated. I believe it won't take long before the bandits are exterminated."

Griffon was one of the four standing corps of Aueras. It specialized in mountain combat.

What? Why would it take a whole army to deal with some bandits? He'd never heard about that before.

"Is this common?"

"No, and thank goodness it isn't. It's only really a problem on that scale in the mountains. That kind of terrain makes it all but impossible to hunt them down efficiently. Too many hiding places and secret passes.

"Of the five prefectures we have to cross, only Limasosya is decently dangerous. The mining industry dominates, and it's never been known to attract the most savoury people. Miners have infamously short tempers, and the people in Limasosya are even shorter tempered than most. Not to mention they are pretty hard drinkers and love to fight.

"I haven't been to Kafreizit before, so I have no clue what it's like there. It was still in Nasri's hands when I was in the army. Come to think of it, I never actually walked on foreign soil. Kind of embarrassing, really."

The biggest worry when traveling with only two people was the lack of good conversation. Since Claude took the initiative to sit at the front instead of the cabin, Oask was glad to share his experiences on the battlefield, as well as a hired guard. Claude himself rather enjoyed hearing those tales as well.

When they finally reached the end of the mountain path, Oask parked the coach near a stream for a half-hour break. He had to feed the horses and let them take a breather to replenish their salt and water.

He also took out the seat of his coach and asked Claude what weapon he wanted to use. Claude gave it a look and saw that the weapons were in fact hidden right under where he sat. The man had quite the arsenal hidden away.

"I'll take the arbalest and a shortsword then. It's too bad you don't have a two-hander here. I'm more accustomed to using those. I see that your double-barrel hunting musket is custom made... It should be quite troublesome to load it up, right?" Claude took the arbalest out of the box and assembled it properly together. He then strung it and tested the tension of the string.

Oask picked his musket up. "I had this order-made. It's a spread shot, doesn't fire far though, only about seventy meters or so. But it has great coverage and you don't really need to aim with it. I can counterattack with this musket while driving the coach. It's perfect for what I do. But you're right that it's troublesome to load up. You have to do it for both barrels, you see, but you can fire twice after it's ready. The first for a warning and second for a threat. That would usually be enough for me to lose any pursuers.

"We're already within the borders of Ambruiz now. Further ahead is the path that crosses Blackforest. We're still about six hours away from Blackwood Town and apart from some rest stops we make on the way, we also have to be on high alert and be ready to defend ourselves. If nothing happens along the way, we should arrive in town around eight at night. We can even lodge at an inn to get some good rest."

Claude nodded. It was always a good idea to listen to someone with experience like Oask when travelling instead of doing as he pleased just because he paid the man to take him to his destination. That would be nothing but courting trouble.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it, Uncle Oask. Let's have a meal first. It just so happens that they gave me a small keg of blackwheat ale to drink on the journey. Do you want a cup?"

Chapter 176 - Doghunt Tavern

One of the rest stops mentioned before was but a mere piece of land circled by a wall of log. The land had a deep well from which travellers and merchants could procure fresh and clean water. The past two rest stops were devoid of people. Fallen leaves piled up like hills and Oask only let his horse rest a bit while he fed them water and wheat. They left each of them after some ten minutes.

The third rest stop was chock full of people. Hundreds were there to take rests. A few soldiers dressed in garrison-like uniform asked around and revealed they were escorting workers from a labour camp in Chanyalar to Whitestag. A garrison band was put in charge of the whole troupe of ten or so carriages of supplies and the labourers. Unlike Claude, who travelled in a carriage, the labourers walked all the way. They had been walking for more than ten days and it would take them another two to arrive at Whitestag.

Claude found that the labourers didn't look as pitiful as he imagined. While their clothes were rather old, they weren't completely torn. They also looked to be in decent condition, obviously being fed rather well. While they would often be scolded by the garrison soldiers from time to time and were prevented from surrounding the carriage, they could be heard talking about Oask's carriage and cursing it occasionally.

When the bandsman heard that Oask and Claude were trying to travel quick after a short rest there, he looked at the sky and shook his head. He believed that it would be best for them to spend the night at the rest stop because they heard a lot of howling wolves from the previous rest stop they stopped at. The skies were getting darker, and it was approximately five. It would take at least two to three hours to travel from their current location to Blackwood Town, and traversing the forest at night wasn't the best idea.

However, they decided in the end to continue rushing. Seven or eight wolves weren't a threat to Claude. Even if he didn't use a gun or crossbow, he was confident in taking them on. Oask on the other hand believed that staying the night with a group of forced labourers was even more dangerous. He wasn't that worried about his own safety. Instead, he was concerned that the villains would steal his goods during the night and he wouldn't be able to get on their case since they were on a rush.

After they resumed their journey, Claude asked, "Uncle Oask, didn't you say that the labourers were harshly guarded? Those garrison soldiers only look half serious to me and they didn't even set up a security perimeter. It's like they let the labourers go around freely."

"It's a light punishment camp, so the labourers are mostly caught for thievery or brawling. They're only sentenced to three to five years of labour at most, so they aren't watched that tightly. These labourers know that it'll be over if they can endure their term. If they try to escape, their punishment will only grow and it won't be worth getting sentenced to a decade more if they end up recaptured. The reason I insisted on not staying with them was because I don't want to have anything stolen from us while we're asleep."

Ah, so there are labour camps for different magnitudes of crimes... What Oask meant was that labourers who usually tried to escape were usually punished for far more serious crimes and sentenced to decades of labour. That was why escaping was the only choice, since their fates wouldn't change much if they were recaptured, anyway. The heavier sentences made no difference to their already long terms.

Nothing eventful occurred at the first rest stop after that. The next one would be the last rest stop on the path in Blackforest and there was only one or so hour left before the town would be reached. They were estimated to arrive at around seven. There was almost no light in the surroundings, especially taking into the fact that they were in a forest, and it felt really oppressive. The two horses trotted a little unnervedly in the rest stop. When Oask brought them some water, they only took a few sips before stopping.

Oask made the decision to tell Claude, who was standing guard alertly at the entrance, "Let's go. We'll leave immediately and not rest here."

As expected, not long after they left the camp, the overlapping howls of wolves could be heard. Claude stood up and looked back but didn't see any wolf tailing them from behind.

"We left early. The horses broke into full run and the wolves are quite smart. They knew not to continue pursuit after failing to surround us," Oask said, "It's fine already. This is the last stretch. We'll rest at Doghunt Tavern in the town and there we can have a good meal. They're famous for their roast hare there. It's stuffed with fresh mushrooms before the roasting and the juices of the meat are all absorbed by the mushrooms. Each bite causes it to ooze oil. It's a great delicacy."

It was already around nine at night when they reached Blackwood Town. Unlike Whitestag, the place had a long wall built from cobblestone surrounding it. The moss on it gave the impression that it was built a long time ago. The garrison soldiers at the entrance of the town asked them a few simple questions. Seeing that they came from the path in Blackforest, they asked whether they encountered any wolves and let them inside.

Oask was quite familiar with the town as he had to pass through it every time he took a customer to their destination. He drove his carriage and quickly found his way to the tavern. After handing the carriage and horse to the stableman and servants, he joked around with them before bringing Claude into the hall.

Late as it was, there were still quite a number of people in the hall of the tavern. Ten or so guests were still chatting and drinking there. In a corner of the hall were a couple of men surrounding a table for a game of cards. Claude listened in and found that they were gambling. However, the bets weren't large; they were only a sunar or two each bout.

Quite a few of the guests knew Oask. They greeted him along the way as he walked to the counter. "Old Pete, give me a big room and some delicious things to eat! Any roast hare?"

The owner was a white-haired old man with a lanky build. He wore a pair of round, black glasses. Taking a look at Oask and Claude, he asked, "Where are you heading this time? Oask, we still have rooms, but I'm not sure about the hare. I'll have to check the oven first."

"Kafreizit--" Oask patted on Claude's shoulder, "--This fella here got conscripted by Bluefeather. I gotta send him there to report for duty."

Pete pushed his glasses up and looked closer at Claude. "Poor fellow... You just turned adult, right? Yet, you're going so far away to serve in the military... Just sit down over there. I'll get ya guys somethin' to eat."

Not long after, Pete served them some white bread, blackwheat ale, baked potatoes, beef, bacon, and a few other dishes. At the centre of them all is a shiny, roasted hare.

Claude wondered, "Uncle Oask, aren't there maidservants in this tavern? Why does the owner himself serve our food?"

Oask laughed. "This is when the maidservants earn their lion's share. You'll know a little later. Or... how about we find you one to spend the night with you? It'll only cost three riyas..."

It didn't take long for Claude to realise what he was talking about. One maidservant came down from the first floor where the guest rooms were with her face flushed red. A lone guest waved for her to come to him and they negotiated for a long moment before settling on a price. The maidservant then took him upstairs and the other guests didn't bat an eye about it.

It was Claude's fault for not having stayed at a tavern late at night while he was in Whitestag. He didn't know that this was a common side job for maidservants. Those of them who didn't rely on offering such services like Kefnie's sister were exceptions rather than the rule.

Oask opened the hare with some force and the stuffed mushrooms spilled out like he said they would. Claude forked some and stuffed it into his mouth while nodding. The mushrooms were indeed great. Even though they weren't meat, they had a meaty taste that spoiled his taste buds.

Just as he was in the midst of enjoying his meal, the tavern door was bust open and two constables entered, walking towards Claude's table. The elder one greeted Oask. It seemed that they were acquaintances. After that, he took out a folder from his black leather briefcase and took out a registration table.

Oask hurriedly got Claude to get his conscription order and the passport Whitestag City Hall issued him before handing them to the elder constable.

As the documents were in place, the constable had the younger one behind him copy Claude's passport number down into the form. After that, he stamped the passport with the words 'Entry Approved, Blackwood Constabulary' on it.

Oask treated the two to a cup of ale before they left.

Claude asked, "Uncle Oask, why didn't you need to be registered?"

He laughed and replied, "I know them and they know that I'm a dignitarian. That's why I didn't have to be checked. Even if I go to a foreign location and run into a check, I just have to show my dignitarian identification and that would spare me the registration. So, I don't have to request anything like a passport from the city hall either."

That was perhaps the largest difference between the rights of a dignitarian and a peasant. Dignitarians had relatively better freedoms, and it was much easier for them to travel around. All they had to do was to carry their dignitarian identification with them. An adult peasant on the other hand had to get a passport made every time they wanted to leave for another place. The details of their trips, such as time of travel, duration of stay and date of return had to be clearly stated.

Official matters were simple affairs. Claude wouldn't be troubled with the conscription order in hand. But for trips made for private reasons, they required a guarantor of dignitarian status. Additionally, they would have to be searched and checked all the way along their trip and as annoying and frustrating as that was, the peasants could only smile and endure it.

That was why apart from peasants working with a trading convoy, most peasants didn't want to leave home. They would rather concern themselves with providing for their family at home and they hired others to run their errands for them if really necessary. They couldn't migrate to other places for better job opportunities like Claude formerly thought. Only in the event of an inevitable natural disaster could people move to a place other than home and start a life there.

It was only because Oask was going to pay the expenses for the trip that Claude was willing to hire him for the high cost of two gold crowns. Their meal was rather decent by his standards. Apart from the roast hare, the other dishes were similar to what he usually had at home.

After the meal, Claude followed Oask to the backyard of the tavern where a well was. The two of them cleaned their bodies with the water from the well before bringing their luggage to the first floor to their room to rest. They had to wake up early to continue the trip.

The large room Oask asked for was for two people. There were two single beds placed on opposite sides of the wall. Either it was due to the foreign environment, the loud sound of humping from other rooms, or Oask's incessant snoring, Claude wasn't able to catch any sleep that night. He practically tossed around in bed till the sun rose.

After drinking a bowl of wheat porridge down the next day, Claude made up for lost sleep in the coach as Oask continued their way. Oask was right about one thing: the roads between Ambruiz and Kugria were built and maintained well. The terrain was flat, and the roads were even. The coach didn't rumble much.

During the night, they lodged at Whiterose Tavern in the prefectural capital of Kugria. Claude realised that the prices were at least double those of Doghunt Tavern. On the third day, they crossed Chanlayar and stayed in a tavern in a small of Krusig. This time around, Claude paid extra for his own room. He couldn't stomach losing sleep because of Oask's snoring anymore.

And during the morning of the fourth day, the carriage arrived in Limasosya.

Chapter 177 - City of Whitewood

Limasosya's roads were worse. They were muddy and covered in puddles, making it really hard for coaches to traverse. Oask cursed as he turned the coach around to avoid the puddles, potholes, and giant rocks.

A rainstorm raged from midnight to dawn and soaked the roads. It didn't help that Limasosya's terrain was hilly either. The coach had to dredge along one step at a time.

"They're a little too shabby. Why can't they just maintain them?" Claude asked, seated beside Oask.

Sitting in the cabin on such a bumpy road was pure torture. Nobody could endure that constant bumping.

"It's not that it can't be fixed. Nobody can be bothered. It won't take long for it to look like this again. Limasosya is a mining prefecture and the roads linking it to the rest of the world are mostly like this, mainly from the heavy mine carts that constantly run on them. The toll they collect from the mining companies can only barely cover the maintenance of the roads in and just around the settlements. Far off roads like this is out of the question."

This world's roads were mostly made of a kind of crude mortar called stone lime. The road was loosely paved with cobblestone and the gaps filled with stone lime, a mixture of stone powder, pebbles, and clay. It was just fine for most roads, but inadequate for the heavy loads it bore here.

His instincts told him they should have used concrete; they did have it, after all. But a moment's thought reminded him that they didn't produce nearly enough for use on something like this, not to mention how expensive it was. He brought up the thought to Oask, but the man said they had tried it and it only improved road conditions for a little longer, but even it didn't last.

There had once been a busy commercial street in the capital. The road fell into disrepair. To attract more customers, the owner repaved the road with concrete, but it was all ground to dust and mud again in just a couple months.

"We have to take a rest soon. Just look at the horses' hooves. They're completely sunk in. They need a cleaning, too. The road's too wet as well," Oask said, frowning.

"Alright. We have time. A day or two won't make a difference," Claude consoled.

"Let's stay in Whitewood tonight. I planned to reach Bentario by tonight so we could arrive in Gourneygada tomorrow. I had hoped to drop you off at Fokby Hill in two days, but looks like we'll be a day late."

They turned several more corners, then stopped in a nearby thicket. Claude joined in the horse cleaning.

"Uncle Oask, are you familiar with Limasyosa?" Claude asked, trying to start up the conversation again.

"I am. When I was still in the army, I was stationed here for five years. After that when the second war between our kingdom and Nasri broke out, a unit of Nasri troops fought their way to Bentario. I was tasked to defend the city and before I fired a shot from the wall, I was blown away by a grenade and bled lots. When I woke up, I found myself at the field hospital. By the time I recovered half a year later, the war was already over and my unit had to be reorganised following the retreat of Nasri's troops before I got to earn any merit for myself."

Oask had only participated in three battles in his life, and in that particular one he got hurt and spent his time recovering only to find that the war was over. He did say that he got out lucky, though, given how the casualties amounted to two-thirds of the troops. But thanks to his injuries happening in the beginning of the conflict, there was still ample support to send him to the field hospitals to be treated. It was said that the later stages of the siege resulted in heavy casualties and many injured soldiers were just left to die because of the sheer difficulty of moving them away from the battlefield.

"After I retired, I worked as a guard for a trading convoy and would come here a few times a year. Most of the time, the convoy would come here to purchase ores and other products, but they began to decrease in number over time. Apart from you and the family I transported to the prefectural capital here, Kritataro, I haven't come here in the past three years. The man of that family seemed to have been employed as a high executive of a large mining company and I heard he earns a crown each month. How envious."

"Uncle Oask, you mentioned that this prefecture is heavily dependent on mining, right? What are the resources mined here? The geography books I read said that there are more than ten mineable resources being produced here. Is there really that many?"

"Ho, you bet. Gold, silver, copper, iron, lead, tin, and coal are the common ones. There are also limestone, granite and saltpetre. Your geography books are right, but there's far more than that. The metals alone easily number more than ten. I heard some convoy owners say that the whiteroot powder, greenflower stone and fluorescent stone essence produced here are always short of demand. The prices of those goods are always rising year by year."

Greenflower stone was a building material similar to marble. It had a smooth and glossy texture and was considered the best building material there was. The other name for fluorescent stone essence is earth crystal. It was an earth-attribute magical crystal.

Oask pointed ahead and said, "We'll arrive at Whitewood in another stretch of ten or so kilometres. That place is most famous for producing whiteroot powder. It's said that back then, the workers who dug up those fossilised plants thought it was junk rather than the metal ore they were searching for.

"The mining settlement here was later named Whitewood because of the fossilised plants they found. It was only after a herbalist heard about the matter and rushed down to see, that they realised they were the materials used to produce whiteroot powder. Trash became treasure instantly and Whitewood became a proper town, and was later elevated to full city."

Does that mean that the most crucial ingredient of alchemy experiments are produced here? Claude's interest was piqued. "Uncle Oask, Do you know how much the whiteroot powder produced here cost?"

He shook his head. "I'm not too sure either since I'm not too interested in it. It isn't anything cheap, mind you. But if you really want to buy whiteroot powder there, you must be careful because there are lots of scammers here who employ children to sell other powders as whiteroot powder. Some of the kids will claim that they stole some from the mines and wanted to sell some to make up for their family's needs. Many people who don't understand how things work and want to get a cheap deal will fall for it easily. The convoy I travelled with bought from a proper mining company there. Even though it's more expensive, at least the quality is assured."

After another two hours of rest, the muddy path dried till it cracked. Claude and Oask had some dry rations before continuing on their journey. By four in the afternoon, they arrived at Whitewood.

Claude was checked and questioned once more before he entered the city gates. The guards inspected the conscription order from Bluefeather and the stamp on the passport before putting down their own keeper stamp on it and allowed the coach entry. Oask only had to show his dignitarian identification and wait on the coach while Claude was checked.

Claude found the security of Whitewood to be really tight. Each gate of the city was defended by a tent of keepers. Other than that, they were even more alert within the city than outside it. Only four soldiers were in charge of the checking during the entry, but eight were stationed to guard the gates from the inside. A tent of troops also patrolled the walls nonstop, and they had their attention focused inside the city. Most notably, the slow matches of their guns were lit, and they were ready to fire at any moment's notice.

Oask wasn't surprised by that in the slightest. He saw his fair share of such situations when he was in service. Perhaps there was a situation in the city, such as an escaped convict on the loose, so they increased their security to make sure nobody could escape.

"Most of the time, it's not a big deal. A few escaped convicts trying to break through the walls are just trying to get themselves killed. Back when I was in service, we arrested the fellows running a private gambling ring and the boss of the gang got more than 40 men charging towards the gate defended by only a tent of troops. Even though one volley of fire killed only four to five of the, the others immediately begged to be spared and flattened themselves on the ground."

Claude learned quite a bit throughout the journey, such as the checks and stamps on his passport, the constables being put in charge of security of the city, and the defence of the gates handled by the keepers. As for the local garrison force, they could run checks but not grant a stamp of passage on passports.

Oask brought Claude to a tavern called The Pullcart. It was the favourite place for coachmen of the heavy mining carts to gather. Claude saw that more than 20 mining carts were parked at the backyard. There were three stables built of logs that kept many work horses within. Some six coachmen were busy feeding their horses.

Since there was still an hour or so till dinner, Claude decided to go take a walk. He didn't want to drink and boast for a whole hour like Oask was inclined to do.

He turned left after leaving the tavern and walked along Mario Street. Oask told him that most of the shops of those mining companies were opened there. It was close to The Pullcart, only some ten minutes away.

But he was stopped the moment he stepped on the streets. A scrawny, rat-faced man asked, "Friend, do you want whiteroot powder?"

Claude shook his head with a smile.

"It's really cheap, friend, a box only costs one crown. I got it from the mines myself and can guarantee the quality. Those shops sell one box for three crowns, you know. The profits are all taken by the selfish company owners. We mine for them to make a living, but the arrangement is too unfair, so we stole some from the mines to make up for it. We're not that greedy, you know. All we want is to be able to earn a little more to eat well..."

The scrawny person continued to mutter and Claude stopped in frustration. "Do you think I can afford anything that costs a crown a box? What's whiteroot powder, anyway?"

"I knew that you wouldn't be able to afford it... What a waste of my time and saliva following you all this while," the guy cursed, "Hey, fool, give me a thale for a cup of ale, will you? Think of it as an apology for wasting my time."

Claude swallowed his rage.

"And why do I have to apologise?"

"Hah, foolish kid... You're a stubborn one, aren't you? Want me to get someone to beat you till you're kneeling and begging for mercy? You waste so much of my saliva and time, so of course you have to pay me back for it! Give me your money..."

Claude's eyes flashed as killing intent oozed out of him. "Buzz off!"

The scrawny man started backwards, but he still talked back stubbornly. "Just... just you wait!"

Claude ignored him and turned to leave. What a second-rate annoyance. After failing to trick me, he's gonna resort to extortion? Looks like Uncle Oask was right about there being many scammers here.

The man watched as Claude left for the distance. He grit his teeth and followed behind, but staying a good distance apart, intent on seeing where he was going.

Chapter 178 - Whiteroot Powder

Claude didn't know he was being tailed because of his clothes. He was clad in a grey-blue linen shirt, a pair of long, rough, black pants and black cow-leather boots. He carried a backpack made from black beastskin. One look and people could tell he was a foreign peasant, and a young one at that. His facial hair was still short so he looked like a kid who'd run away from home. He was the prime target for those kinds of people.

Noble offspring born to dignitariandom mostly wore silk in heat such as this rather than the proper noble garments. So, the lanky man put his sights on Claude and was intent on making some money. Too bad Claude didn't fall for his shtick and even told him to leave.

Mario Street was the most famous commercial area in Whitewood. Most of the mining companies had an office or factory shop on the street. Even the national bank had a major branch office there.

Oask told him Dunkro Mining Company was the local hegemon before he left. Half of the town's whiteroot powder was theirs. They also had the best quality powder in the region.

The shop was next to the bank. Claude popped in and stared at the multitude of varieties. He'd never heard of there being different kinds of whiteroot powder. He only cared about the quality and the price and right now he could buy a box for half as much as that bastard in Whitestag asked.

When he gave the nearest box a better look however, he nearly shouted curses at his hometown. The market sellers back home asked almost three times as much as this shop for the shit variety, while Hurian asked nearly four times as much as this shop for his, slightly better, variety.

He asked the assistant a couple questions, and learned that the quality of the powder affected the success rate of synthesis. As the core ingredient, not only did the powder's quality increase the success rate, it also improved the quality of the final product. So that was why Claude sometimes failed despite doing exactly the same thing as when he was successful! He'd torn his head apart trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. He cursed the damn apothecary quietly a dozen times and finally felt a little better. He turned to the silver box on the counter.

The highest quality, and most expensive, variety of whiteroot powder was inside. That one finally matched Hurian's ask of seven crowns a box. The assistant told him it was the best they had on offer, triple A quality. It was made from a special kind of plant fossil. Incredibly rare.

Triple A whiteroot powder didn't just eliminate random failures, it could even make the final product of a higher quality than its constituent ingredients. It was too expensive for normal apothecaries, however. Only the most famous, and richest, could afford to use it. A couple less famous and rich ones may own a box, but it was usually kept as a family heirloom instead of seeing actual use.

Claude would only have given it a glance if not for the assistant's mention of 'famous apothecaries'. That phrase reminded him of Maria. She was going to Whitestag for a while in the 9th month. If Claude hadn't been conscripted, he would've loved to see her again. She would likely have brought him that exception she'd promised.

She'd done everything she had to repay his debt, but he couldn't help but feel he now owed her. He'd made her inordinately wealthy with their new company, but that was a separate thing. He had been wanting to buy her a gift, and the triple A whiteroot powder would fit the bill nicely.

"I'll have ten boxes," Claude said.

The assistant's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He'd never thought this boy would be such a moneybag. He half-suspected this was a prank, a joke.

Claude took out his account book.

"I can withdraw money from the bank next door, yes?"

"Of course! We have an arrangement with the bank. Our customers don't have to line up. You don't have to wait for your withdrawal," an old man with a goatee explained as he appeared in front of Claude.

"Manager..." the assistant bowed.

"Ivago, take our guest to the bank," the old man said with his deep voice, obviously unhappy with how he had acted.

Claude withdrew his money smoothly and returned to the shop. He was treated like a noble this time. The manager invited him to a cup of wine or tea in a special reception room upstairs. Claude settled for red tea. The assistant was replaced by a young female shopkeep, who brought warm water so Claude could wash his face, and two more assistants joined the pair in the room, their only job to keep Claude well-fanned.

The whiteroot powder had been transferred to copper containers, a catty each. The goateed man handed Claude one at a time to check, after which the lids were sealed with wax. Finally, the man asked whether he would be taking them with him or if they should be delivered somewhere.

Claude couldn't be happier to hear they did deliveries. He'd been fretting over how to get the powder back home in time for Maria's visit since he was not likely to be able to go back himself. He'd thought of sending them back with Oask with a letter for his sister telling her what to do with the containers, but he didn't feel comfortable with sending seventy crowns' worth of powder back the way they'd came in just a simple, unprotected carriage. Not to mention that Oask wasn't heading straight back. He had told Claude he would stop by a couple friends for a visit. Which meant the powder would be just sitting in the carriage somewhere for a while, ripe for theft.

When he told the manager to send it to Normanley Wood in Whitestag, the man swallowed, then told him such a long trip would necessitate a one crown fee. Claude didn't mind, though, so he took a crown out of his pouch and handed it to the man.

He asked for a pen and some paper for a letter for the one who'd be receiving the shipment. Finally, he signed the delivery contract and got the company's business card. They asked him to send them notice of his address once he'd settled down in the base so they could mail him the receipt and send notice when the shipment was successfully delivered.

Claude left only late that night. He planned to head straight to the inn for dinner and a good night's rest. He didn't see the manager whisper something to Ivago, who rushed out the door just ahead of him.

A carriage drew up just as he stepped out of the shop and two people jammed sharp objects against his waist. A rat-faced man stepped out of the carriage, flanked by two huge men, and smiled at him.

"So, kid, not so arrogant now, are you? You told me to buzz off, didn't you? Now look at you. If you want to keep your head, you'll kneel and beg for mercy."

Claude felt the cold steel against his bare skin as the blades cut through his shirt.

"Should we do him in right here, second brother? It's a little busy."

The lanky man snapped.

"When did I ask you to do him in? I told him to kneel and beg for mercy. You're right though, this is a little too exposed. I don't want the constables getting in the way. Take him to the alley by the bank."

Claude let them escort him to the alley, his expression a relaxed facade all the way. The lanky man took out a box happily.

"Didn't you say you couldn't afford whiteroot powder? Why did you just buy boxes of it, then? You say you don't have money, but I just saw you take a crown out of your pouch. How dare you lie to me! You didn't buy my whiteroot powder because you looked down on me!"

"I bought on behalf of someone else. I couldn't afford it if I worked my whole life. My benefactor was also the one that told me to buy at Dunkro," Claude answered.

"I don't care. Not buying my whiteroot powder is an insult. It comes with heavy consequences. I'm mad. I want to beat you up, strip you naked, and throw you in the mine, but I'm a businessman. I know getting along would bring more profit for all of us. I will give you a chance to apologise. Just use all your money to buy this box of premium powder. Sign this proof of purchase here and I'll forgive you."

The man took out a piece of paper. If he just took Claude's money, it was robbery. While this could still technically be called extortion, he had his ways around that, it didn't help his victim that he was a peasant.

If he'd known Claude had bought 70 crowns' worth of triple A grade powder from Dunkro, he might have had second thoughts. He couldn't afford to offend someone with that kind of wealth, and the connections and influence that inevitably came with it. He didn't, however, and so here he was. He'd assumed the boy was just there running errands for someone else, maybe his employer, and would thus be a prime target.

Chapter 179 - Shocking Turn

The alley went deeper inside. Five buildings flanked its entrance. After the turn, however, there was another 20-metre stretch. Apart from a tightly shut metal gate at the end, the area was surrounded by three-metre-tall stone walls. The rat had made this place his hideout and had done countless unmentionable things there. Doing their deeds out of the public eye made them considerably less nervous.

Claude considered how he should deal with the five. The two with the knives behind him were in their late teens. They were complete amateurs. They'd even let their guard down just because he hadn't fought back yet. They'd stepped back some and now only pointed their knives at him.

They had almost certainly not attended school. Any middle-schooler would have known not to give a foot of ground when one had the enemy. Any instructor worth his salt would have drilled that into them.

The two slabs of meat flanking the lanky bastard weren't much better. They looked impressive to untrained eyes, but Claude could spot dozens of holes in their defences. His only consideration was whether he should beat them all up the old fashioned way, or end it quickly with a couple Magic Missiles. He didn't fancy using magic too much. If nothing else, they had to have a decent backing. Then again, if this was all that backing could get, then it couldn't be too much.

"Quick, get your money and sign the agreement," the rat continued, "You should be happy I'm selling so cheap."

His minions cackled a little too enthusiastically.

Claude's muscles twitched, but he stopped himself on the brink of taking action when he heard footsteps closing in rapidly. There were at least a dozen of them. Their footsteps were light and cautious, even their breathing was suppressed.

What was going on? He immediately shut down his mana circulating through his hexagram and wiped away any trace of activated mana. He might have more confidence had this been Whitestag, but he'd told himself numerous times not to take chances elsewhere. He didn't have the foggiest idea who knew or didn't know about magic. Since he now had an audience, his decision had been made for him.

The old fashioned way it was.

The rat was still going, but he soon stopped when he realised his prey wasn't paying him any attention.

"Ole' Third, get me his pouch and search him. If he dares resist, leg him."

"Yes, boss."

'Ole' Third', the one who'd asked what they should do with him, answered. He gave Claude the impression of a sharpened, if somewhat jagged, knife despite being only 17. Claude supposed that was to be expected of someone who hadn't yet realised how big the ocean was compared to their little pond.

Third thrust his dagger at Claude's thigh. The way he saw it, even the strongest of men would beg for mercy weakly while clutching on their bleeding thigh. After that, he could deal with them however he wanted. Anyone who dared to offend his boss would definitely not make it out of this unharmed. He would give him a good skinning.

He had shaved a rod into the blade he held in his hand. It was less than ten centimetres long, but it had a triangular shape and a razor-sharp point. While it wasn't that easy to use for slashing others, it was particularly effective at piercing. Third was quite famous in Whitewood despite his young age and was known to be a rabid dog who loved to poke holes in others.

Because Claude didn't resist, Third didn't regard him with much concern. He couldn't wait to stomp on his head when he was down. He had stopped growing in height when he was fifteen and most people towered over him, much to his dismay.

However, when his blade shot out, his target took a step back all of a sudden. Third watched as his blade caught air. He stumbled forwards and almost fell. Just as he was about to shout 'how dare you evade me', he watched as a fist enlarge in his vision before he blacked out. He suffered a heavy strike square in the face. Before the pain could travel through his nerves, he heard a crisp snap as his nose caved in.

Claude hated how cruel Third was and countered the move with a similar cruelty. Not only did he punch his face, he grabbed the arm with the blade, turned it around, and sent it piercing into the lower abdomen of the fellow. Third looked as if he had stabbed himself with the blade.

All that happened swiftly and ended within the blink of an eye. The two large men and the scrawny fellow and the other fellow with a dagger behind Claude could barely process what happened. All they saw was Third preparing to put a hole in Claude's thigh and they waited in anticipation. They expected to see the youth collapse and hug his thigh as he begged for mercy just like the many times it happened before.

The foreign youth ducked and put the blade back into Third's stomach. Third fell to the ground as he breathed raggedly, still confused as to what had happened.

Naturally, Claude wouldn't let the other fellow with the dagger behind him off either. He used his left elbow to strike him in the solar plexus. It was his fault for leaving himself that open with his heart completely undefended. Both his hands were hanging down and he only loosely held onto his dagger. Given how close he was, Claude was able to elbow the vital point accurately. That fellow dropped his dagger and hugged his chest as he fell to the ground and writhed in pain, face burning red and mouth wide open to take in the breath that would not enter.

The rat still wore his sleazy smile as he witnessed with terror everything that transpired. His two men fell just like that. Whether they were still alive was unknown. Yet, the foreign youth didn't seem to have moved much. He smile melted into a perverse amalgamation of terror and petrification. He now knew that he got the jackpot.

"Blow... blow the whistle... Call... Call my second uncle!" mouthed the rat with great difficulty.

Seeing Claude approach him with a sinister smile, he backed down in a panic and waved for the two burley men to charge while he fumbled for something in his clothes. "Y-you! Go stop him first. I... I will blow the w-whistle..."

The box of so-called premium-quality whiteroot powder and the purchase agreement have been long discarded. The powder spilled out from the open box.

The first of the two men to rush forward hammered down with his fist. He was a clueless street fighter who had no idea about the closest distance between two points. Claude gave a straight counter and landed his fist on the man's face while the latter's fist was still mid air.

"Oooopff!" The man's face contorted as he spat out blood and a few teeth.

If one's vitals weren't struck in a fistfight, one could last at least two to three minutes even against an overpowering opponent. That was the case with the huge man. He cried out in pain and clutched his face with his left hand while holding out his right to defend against Claude's follow up.

But that wasn't a big deal for Claude. He stretched his left hand out, locked his grip on the man's right wrist and pulled back, causing the man to fall towards him. With a twist of his body and a shove of his right hand, he pulled of a suplex, swinging the man high up in the air while he flailed his left hand wildly before smashing him down harshly on the stony ground like a broken linen sack. The man was just like a fish on dry land, struggling but unable to get up no matter what.

Seeing his comrade end up like that, the other brute didn't charge in straight away. Instead, he continued backing off nonstop. The rat finally got his whistle out and blew on it with all he had.

The piercing sound of the constable whistle reverberated across the alley.

"J-just you wait... My boss' second uncle will come over immediately! H-he's a constable! J-just you wait... You'll be locked up!" Having finally blown the whistle, the man regained some confidence and courage.

Claude clicked his tongue. It was no wonder the man dared to force his deals on foreigners in a city like Whitewood. He had a backer in the constabulary. Normal peasants would probably really have to take the man's beating without complaining as they couldn't afford to piss him off. Even if they resisted, they would be arrested by any constables that came later.

But Claude wasn't too worried about that. He finally found a benefit to being conscripted. For normal peasants, being conscripted in a time of musket warfare meant going on the battlefield as cannon fodder. That was why the Kingdom of Aueras employed such a militaristic conscription policy, offering dignitarian status to peasants as bait. They would also receive the benefits and treatment of a soldier.

Ever since he got the conscription order, Claude was no longer a civilian peasant, but instead military personnel. That was also why he wasn't given any trouble when he was checked by the keepers and constables at the entrance of the city. Some more strict checks required the peasants to show their luggage to see whether any forbidden goods were being carried, but Claude didn't have to go through all that. When the constables realised that he was to be trained as an officer at Bluefeather, they quickly gave his passport the stamp. Some of them even enviously wished Claude success.

So what if the rat's second uncle was a constable? He would definitely not dare to lock Claude up. Delaying the conscription of military personnel by faking a crime and locking them up was something punishable by the complete annihilation of the family, especially one of Bluefeather. Claude wasn't just any new recruit either. After training, his rank would at least be that of a sergeant-major. While he would merely be considered a low-ranked officer, an officer of Bluefeather wasn't something the constabulary of Whitewood could afford to trifle with.

Another constable whistle sounded in response some distance away and sounded like it was approaching the alley. The remaining brute and the rat let out a breath of relief, with the former saying, "It's over for you. I'll make sure someone on the inside gives you a good lesson."

Claude ignored the man's threat and instead focused on the men that secretly approached them. What were they trying to do? Was he the target, or the rat?

The constable whistle suddenly stopped at the entrance of the alley. Oddly, nobody came inside after a long wait. The rat had almost retreated to the turn in the alley and said to the brute, "Watch him and don't let him escape. I'll get my second uncle to come over."

He then darted the way he came in. But when he reached the turn, he seemed to bump into something with an audible yelp before a loud slap could be heard.

"Get the heck back in there!" a rough voice ordered. The rat took one step back into the dead end of the alley with a mark on the left half of his face and his body shivering. A short-barrelled pistol with a lit slow match was pushed flush against his chest.

Chapter 180 - Misunderstanding

It wasn't just one lit, short-barreled musket. In fact, there were five, and not the usual designs, either. They'd been modified. The gun trained on the rat had three barrels. It reminded Claude of Oask's twin-barrel. All five of the guns' slow matches were lit -- their light blinding.

The guns were clearly custom made. The slow matches burned slower than to which Claude was used, and at a stabler pace. He inspected the five men carefully. They wore black bat-like silk robes. It was hot, but their hoods were pulled over their heads, almost down to their noses..

Another set of footsteps announced another five's arrival, all bearing the same modified muskets. One of them was a worker from Dunkro, the one called Ivago. Was Dunkro in cahoots with the gangs? Did they have their eyes on him?

Ivago scanned the alley, then pointed at Claude.

"Him."

The five muskets turned to Claude immediately. Their apparent leader shoved his gun into the rat's face.

"Move aside!" he barked.

The two shivered and vanished into dark corner of the alley, hugging their heads.

"Don't try anything. Don't make the mistake of thinking we're the only ones aiming at you. If you tell me where that friend of yours is, I won't make things unduly difficult for you," the leader said, turning his gaze back to Claude.

Claude's face stiffened. These had to be the most ballsy people across whom he'd ever come. When did the government make it legal for just any fool to carry a musket?

If the government found out about this, the consequences would be beyond bad for the people responsible for keeping just this from happening. The city would be lucky if only the chief keeper and constable were executed.

Brawls between vagabonds was one thing, but armed gangs was another entirely. More than likely the entire municipal government would be purged. Claude would be surprised if more than ten percent of the current officials survived.

That did nothing to his current predicament, however. He had little choice but to go along with his captors.

"I have no friends in the city. I only know the coachman I hired to bring me here. I'm to report for duty in day or two. If you want money, I can give you what I have, but leave innocent people out of this."

"Money? You think we're here to rob you?"

The leader grimaced. He was actually taken for being a bandit!

"Apart from the money that man over there saw me withdraw from the bank, I can't think of any reason why you'd hold me up with such excessive force," Claude answered.

"Bullshit, you think we would go through this much trouble for a little coin?"

"A thousand crowns is 'a little coin'? Wow, you guys have a larger appetite than I thought."

"One thousand... Where did you get so much money?"

A thousand crowns was more than a lifetime's wealth, but this boy had withdrawn it from his bank account to buy whiteroot powder. How much more did he have in his bank account? He'd not been informed about this!

"I earned it myself. Everything's been legitimately earned and taxed accordingly. You can check with the bank if you want."

Why were robbers asking questions about his sources of income?

"Impossible! We've been trailing you from the moment you crossed the border, you've not had any time to get that kind of money!"

"Crossed the border? When did we cross the border? We were checked almost every day of our trip. I have the stamps on my passport to prove it."

Claude wondered if he'd missed something. Maybe Whitewood required a special permit to visit? Oask never mentioned anything about it.

The two went back and forth like this for nearly ten minutes before the leader finally decided something was off about the whole situation.

"We've found no traces of magic, Sir," one of the men said, appearing as if out of thin air.

"What?"

The leader's eyes snapped back to Claude, then to the two men shrivelled up in the corner and the three men injured and unconscious on the ground.

"Check the three down there. Find out what took them down."

"Yes, Sir."

The black-robed man approached Claude, his gun ready to fire. Claude made way for him obediently.

The man spared him an approving, though still suspicious, glance, then knelt by the three.

"Two have heavy injuries. One's face has been all but caved in, the other's forehead is mush and his chest's been shattered. The third one is bleeding from the back of his head, so it looks like he hit it in a fall."

The leader stared at the three bodies for a moment, then glanced back at Claude.

"Who are you? Where are you going and whence did you come?"

"I'm Claude Ferd, a peasant from Whitestag. I've been conscripted by Bluefeather and I'm currently on my way to Kafreizit to report for training. I happened to pass through Whitewood on my way and stopped over for the night."

"Conscription, is it? Your passport. I'll have a look."

"A-aren't you part of a gang? Why would you check that?"

"W-who said we're a gang?! We're the kingdom's special operations force! Show him the badge!"

"Yes, Sir."

The man beside Claude got back upright and flashed a silver medal. Claude caught a glimpse of an engraving; 'Watchers in the Night'. The other side flashed for a moment as well, and it too had an engraving 'Special Operations Corps 2013'.

Watchers in the Night... That sounded familiar...

"Oh, you guys are the Watch!"

The leader's gaze cooled.

"Where did you hear about us?"

"My teacher told me."

"Who's your teacher?"

"Lady Maria, my apothecary teacher," Claude answered.

He took out his conscription order and passport and handed it to the black-robed man.

"Apologies. I thought you were part of some underground syndicate. I thought the shopkeeper was your eye and I attracted your attention because I revealed my money. These thugs tried to force me to buy shitty whiteroot powder. I had just finished teaching them a lesson when you arrived. I was wondering what kind of gang dared carry firearms in broad daylight..."

"See?" one of the others said, "I told you we shouldn't wear this odd getup. He thought we were a gang..."

"Shut up!" the apparent leader barked.

The target of the man's ire knelt on the ground and pinched some of the whiteroot powder, ignoring his outburst.

"Huh? You call this whiteroot powder? It's barely even talcum powder..."

"Apologies, it seems there's been a misunderstanding," the leader interrupted, handing back Claude's documents, "You're not the one we're seeking. Aight boys, time to go."

The barrels lowered and several Claude noticed peeking over the alley walls vanished as well.

Claude's suddenly realised how tense he'd been when he felt his body sigh and relax involuntarily.

"It's okay. But why would you mistake me for whoever it is you're seeking?"

"Because you bought ten boxes of the best whiteroot powder in the kingdom. We're looking for two magi from Siklos. One is young, the other old. They crossed the border nearby not too long ago. We'd tracked them from there to here, but it seems we'd lost them. We suspected they were here to buy materials, so when you showed up and bought the best whiteroot powder in town, we thought we'd finally found them again. That reminds me, why did you buy ten boxes of whiteroot powder? It doesn't make sense, especially not since you're just about to report for training."

Ah, so it was the damn powder! Doing something spontaneous for someone else really only brought trouble!

"I can't get good whiteroot powder back home. At best I can get decent powder, but it's about as expensive as the top quality stuff I just bought. I thought this would be great to help me practice concocting.

"I also bought it as a gift for my teacher. I'm enlisting with the military, but my teacher will be back in my hometown for a while shortly. I thought she would appreciate good whiteroot powder since she usually goes there to do experiments."

"This Lady Maria, is she the capital's Baroness Maria Fen Normanley?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

"Of course I do. I even had a few interactions with her. She doesn't have the best temperament and she hates entertaining the Watch. One more question. Since she's your apothecary teacher, why did she let you get conscripted?"

Claude smiled bitterly.

"I only got to learn from her for a while before she had to return to the capital. My hometown recently got a new mayor. Lady Maria asked him to look out for me, and he decided that meant he should get me into the army. So he wrote a recommendation letter to Bluefeather, which they accepted and now here I am. The new mayor's Viscount Felidos, by the way."

"I know the viscount. He is an army nut, so that doesn't surprise me. Alright, you may leave. Any ideas on how we should deal with the thugs? I think one of them had an uncle in the constabulary."

Claude scratched his head.

"I don't know. I've taught them a lesson, so I have little interest in them now. You might as well just toss them in a labour camp somewhere for a couple years."

The scrawny man suddenly jumped up.

"I... I know where the two magi are..."

Chapter 181 - City Lockdown

Claude felt the urge to follow the special operations unit to capture the two magi. Siklosian magi were still just as much a mystery to him as they'd always been. He didn't get the chance, however. The Watch leader had the thugs hauled away before having his blabber-mouth subordinate escort Claude to the tavern.

The escort was completely unnecessary, but Claude didn't decline. He understood it was a courtesy and apology, so he went along with it. Well, that and the watchman was likely using this as a good excuse to see where Claude was lodging and check on his coachman to corroborate his story.

The man slung his musket over his back and then tossed the cape of his uniform over the weapon. Claude realised why the figures looked so weird. The cape hid the weapons, but it resulted in an odd deformation of their figure. It made them a very unwieldy sight. He supposed the fact that they looked like some kind of occultists also helped keep unwanted feet at a distance.

"I'm Kleit Doram," the man said as the two took off.

His voice had a surprising air of warmth to it.

"Claude Ferd. A pleasure," Claude answered curtly.

Claude's suspicions were somewhat eased on their way back to the tavern. At least part of the reason, he was certain, for the leader's insistence on his escort -- besides the whole corroboration business -- was to keep him at arm's length during the most crucial part of whatever was left to do that evening. The man was even more of a blabbermouth than Claude had thought.

That fact fitted Claude down to the ground. It was the perfect chance for him to learn more about the Watch. One of the things he learned which had bugged him from the moment he saw their firearms, was that they were developed by the national firearms institute. Each was severely expensive, but the Watch had an expansive budget. They were responsible for taking on magi, after all.

He also got the force's structure out of Kleit. The Watch had eight fifteen-man bands, and another in reserve. Their sole responsibility was keeping an eye out for magi and hunting them down. The capital always had at least two units in it to protect the king and his councils. The rest would usually be out on training or deployment.

They struck Claude as quite similar to the old world's battlemagi. Actually, that was quite an apt description, since every member needed at least some sensitivity to magic, preferably they should have the ability to learn a spell or two. A long familial track-record of loyalty to the crown was another requirement, obviously. Members were selected from the qualifying families, most of whom were either nobles or patrician, when they were 14 and rigorously tested. Those that passed underwent extensive training in secret and inducted into the Watch when they turned 18. They then had to undergo a further three rounds of training before becoming full-fledged Watchers.

Kleit was a war orphan from one such family. His father had died in the war, and his mother of sickness and heartbreak not long after. He'd been four at the time. He was raised by his aunt, the last of the family, and they lived on his father's pension. When he turned thirteen, he was tested and found to be sufficient for further training. He was inducted into the Watch when he turned 18 and passed the final three rounds of training.

"Are you even allowed to tell me all this?"

"It's fine. They're supposed to be secret, but everyone even slightly involved knows everything."

Because you keep blabbing about it! Claude almost snapped. He supposed the man had a point, though. The Watch was a secret from most commoners, but they were hardly a hidden organisation within the right circles. For all his blabbing, as well, he'd not revealed anything Claude would have considered a real secret now that he thought about it. He'd not told him anything substantive about his missions, nor anything about their other operations or training regimes. Even when Claude asked about his musket, he just said it was powerful enough to kill any magi.

Kleit told Claude he had a few questions for his coachmen, to no surprise for Claude. Claude treated them both to the best meal the tavern had to offer, then headed for his room, leaving the two to the business of corroboration.

He had little interest in what the two discussed since he had not revealed anything compromising about himself to either. He thanked his lucky stars now that he'd not revealed his more magical abilities during the fight with those thugs. If the Watch had been watching the whole time, as he firmly believed they had been, then he'd not be walking around freely now.

Oask didn't return for two hours until two other tavern patrons dragged him upstairs and tossed him into the room, beyond blathering drunk. One of the patrons gave a quick explanation of what had happened before he left. Apparently Oask had gotten into a drinking competition with the man Claude had brought, and lost.

Claude sighed, thanked him with a copper, and dragged Oask onto his bed.

Oask had a fitful awakening the next morning. So much so that they were only ready to leave two hours behind schedule. They were stopped on their way out of the tavern by a couple other coachmen stomping into the establishment grumpily. They explained there was no point in them trying to leave since the city was locked down. No one was being let in or out through any of the gates.

The whole tavern hissed; most of the patrons were coachmen as well. None of them was happy with having to sit around. Every day they were held up was a day of lost income and increased expense. More than a few would also have to pay fees for missing drop-off or pick-up deadlines with the various mines in the region.

Oask and Claude had to try their luck, however, their time was tight, after all. They got nowhere, however, and had little choice but to head back to the tavern. They had so little luck, in fact, they didn't even get to speak to anyone at the gates. They didn't even get within fifty metres of the gates. They were stopped by warning shots some sixty metres from the gate. Claude even caught a glimpse of two cannons on the walls trained on the road leading up to the gate.

The story was the same at all the other gates they tried, so the eventually trudged back to the tavern. Oask, ever the born coachman, started gaggling with the rest of the coachmen, leaving Claude to his own company. Claude chose to catch up on some sleep and so spent most of the morning in their room. When he came down for lunch, the rumour mill had already churned out a dozen explanations for why the town was locked down. Most of them said something had happened in the mayor's family -- one said his daughter had been raped -- and that the mayor had vowed no one would leave the city until he'd had his vengeance on the culprits.

Claude didn't think much of them, however. The mayor did have two sons and a daughter, but the daughter was already in her forties and round as a barrel, not exactly rape material.

Claude went back to his room. He knew exactly why the town was locked down. The Watch was no doubt still hunting those two magi.

That evening confirmed his suspicion when gunfire and explosions rocked the town the whole night. News started circulating at around midnight that two fugitives had been hiding in the slums, and, when they were caught, started a personal war with the constables. No one quite knew why, but apparently the two had masses of gunpowder with them. The battle all but levelled half of the slum and badly injured ten people, though none had died, apparently.

So they'd gotten their targets, Claude thought. For all the destructive power gunpowder could inject into a bullet, Freian gunpowder was still decades, or more likely centuries -- considering the pace of technological development in Aueras -- from gunpowder that could flatten a house just from exploding in a room. Freian gunpowder ignited outside a confined space like a musket barrel was little more than a firework. The destruction had to be the work of spells.

Kleit came to see him in the small hours of the morning.

"You should be able to leave after sunrise. The lockdown will be lifted at sun-up. Also, we've cleared your whiteroot powder purchase. It'll be carted off tomorrow."

"I already paid for everything, why would it need approval?" Claude asked.

"You should know by now that whiteroot powder is used by magi, so of course the Watch would need to approve such large volume purchases, especially of the high quality stuff."

"Wait," Claude argued, "Didn't the manager ask me whether I would take the powder on the spot or have them delivered? Wouldn't I be able to avoid the checks if I chose to take the powder immediately."

"Yeah, you'd be able to leave the shop with it, but you wouldn't be able to leave the town before you were cleared."

The comment made Claude recall that his mistress had once said that amongst other things, the Watch was supposed to keep rogue magi from getting their hands on materials. If he'd tried to leave the town before he'd been cleared, he would have been stopped at the gates with some excuse and kept in town until he was cleared. If he wasn't, his powder would be confiscated and Claude was under no illusion they would just let him go without the stuff. He would probably be arrested, or detained at the very least, and interrogated.

Chapter 182 - Blunder

"Did you capture the two magi from Siklos? Was the fire to the east your doing?" Claude asked.

"We didn't capture them. They're dead," Kleit revealed, "The two magi weren't from Siklos. They turned out to be nobles of Shiks! They went to Siklos to study and travelled the continent in the name of seeking resources for Siklos. They came here because we keep a closer guard on our produce."

Shiks? Weren't they a northern superpower? Why could their nobles learn magic and even be sent to Siklos?

"Why did you think they were from Siklos?"

"They thought they were quite something after learning magic and kept on acting arrogantly and cursing us as black iron peasants. They started a fight in a tavern with its owner, during which time they used a spell. We immediately suspected Siklos, so we deployed.

"We're troubled with how we should report this though. Rogue magi or not, they're Shiksian nobles. If only they had allowed us to capture them instead of using wide-area combat spells and forcing us to shoot them. Quite a few of us are injured as well."

"Are they seriously injured? Did the five thugs really lead you to them?"

Kleit nodded.

"The two idiots paraded themselves around. They only started hiding after they discovered us on their tail. They snuck into Whitewood and hid somewhere in the east of the town. They were planning to wait us out. The young one's loins got the better of him and he hooked up with a wench. That in and of itself would not have been enough to betray his identity, but, being a noble, he had to look the part when he did, and that made him stand out like an exploding volcano.

"Those thugs were the girl's pimps, and they decided he didn't need all the money he clearly had. They tried to rob him, but when he cast a couple spells, they quickly turned into his dogs and arranged a blackmarket sale with contacts in the mines.

"They still wanted all his money, though, so they decided to poison him during the deal and rob him naked. They needed more money for that kind of poison, however, and you were their ticket to riches."

Kleit laughed.

"A truly divine coincidence, wouldn't you say? You caught our attention thanks to your interest in whiteroot powder, and the thugs' interest for your money, which connected us and them. When they led us to the magi, we tried to evacuate the civvies first, but the magi discovered us mid-evacuation and a fight broke out when they refused to surrender.

"At one point they tried to threaten us to stand down using their nobility, but we weren't going to have any of it. If you're going to cast spells in our territory, you're going to die for it.

"As they were hiding inside the building, we weren't able to get a clear shot even though we had it surrounded. None of us was their match in terms of spells alone. They were really crafty as well, knowing to avoid the doors and windows. Instead, they used spells to destroy the walls between two buildings and moved to the next one after another. Had it not been for our leader's preparation earlier, they would've escaped."

He then shook his head with a bitter smile. "They caused two buildings to topple. Three floors of one of them had been destroyed and up to sixty civilians were wrapped up in it. Thankfully, we got to them early and none of them has died as of yet. A few of my comrades got hurt during the pursuit and the old one was killed by the line of shooters our leader prepared beforehand. The young one also died after a chaotic firefight with us. We didn't get a single one alive and will still have to deal with Shiks later..."

"Are they really Shiksian nobles? Can't they be imposters?" Claude asked.

"It's true. When we checked their possessions, we found that their identifications were real. The only evidence against their favour is their experience studying magic on Siklos and the magic items they carry. However, it's still far from enough. Our kingdom will still have to provide a satisfactory resolution to this matter since their nobility was the real deal."

"Isn't magic banned across the continent? Why are Shiksian nobles allowed to learn it?"

Kleit laughed mockingly. "Their kingdom is different from ours. They are located at the north of the continent near Siklos and have always had ties with the magi there. It's considered cultured of the people there to learn magic and Siklos' support is the reason their kingdom became the most powerful one on Freia. Naturally, all that is done behind the scenes. On the surface, Shiks has denounced magic and their so-called pejorative is to keep the magi on Siklos from ever coming back into power.

"Aueras is a small country compared to Shiks. Unless we can unite the Eastern Freia, we won't be able to stand equal to them. So far, Shiks is a beast we can't afford to rouse. The only thing we can be thankful for is that our kingdoms are separated by two other nations.

"These two magi are Shiksian nobles and killing civilians in a tavern would cost them nothing more than some money. Shiks have always been quite lenient on the crimes their ruling class commits and let them off with a fine or two. Our kingdom's laws are completely different. In the eyes of the law, nobles, dignitarians and peasants are treated the same. They will have to be tried and punished all the same.

"Due to our radically different views, our kingdoms haven't always gotten along. It's said that during the Tricolour War around six decades ago, the Shiksian nobles were quite opinionated on their distaste for Stellin IX's ascension to the throne as they believed that he wasn't in line to succeed it. They refused to acknowledge the legitimacy of his crown and caused our kingdoms to have bad relations for nearly a decade."

Those were national secrets that Claude hadn't heard of before. However, he did understand why Kleit looked so troubled. "In other words, you're worried that these two dead magi nobles will prompt Shiks to give our kingdom trouble and worsen our already sour relationship?

"What does that have to do with the Watch though? You were only doing your duty. It's not your department that has to deal with diplomacy with Shiks. You also mentioned that they also crossed two other nation's borders. I believe that at worst, words will be thrown around. You also mentioned that we are two nations away from their borders. Even if they want to go to war, we'll see if the other two nations allow Shiksian troops to pass through them. What's there to worry about?"

Kleit looked at Claude with contempt. "You're from a rural corner of the kingdom, so it's no surprise that you haven't heard about the news spreading in the streets of the royal capital. Did you know that His Majesty sent two waves of ambassadors to Shiks during the early part of last year? It is the royal agenda to get on Shiks' good side because they get along far better with Nasri than we do!

"Even though our borders aren't linked and they won't deploy their troops to march against us, Shiks can provide large amounts of funding and military supplies to Nasri. Do you know how big a change that will be for our struggle against the five allied anti-Aueran nations in the east? The two waves of ambassadors sent within the span of three months were tasked to get Shiks to remain neutral and not involve themselves in our eastern conflict. Do you understand now?"

"I do," Claude admitted sincerely, "You really blundered badly this time and caused our kingdom much trouble. We still don't know if we can placate Shiks. If they turn against our kingdom, it'd definitely be your fault. But it has nothing to do with me. All I have to do is to watch you getting punished from the sidelines."

"You..." Kleit almost spat blood from anger. Claude had thrown salt on where it hurts the most. Kleit was just looking for someone to chat with because he felt troubled, only to be aggravated even further. Even though he wanted to confide in him with something, there wasn't a point anymore. The child was right; it had nothing to do with him. Chatting with him about national policy was only him asking for trouble.

Within that short moment, Kleit ran out of things to say. "Then, I shall take my leave." He then marched off crestfallenly.

Seeing Kleit leave, Claude ordered a cup of ale and slowly enjoyed it. Even though Kleit talked a lot, he didn't reveal the slightest bit of what Claude would be concerned with. All he told him was that two Shiksian noble magi were killed. He didn't reveal the magi's ranks, their true aim for coming to Whitewood and the destructive wide-area combat spells they used to hurt so many. He only mentioned the magic items they carried in a passing manner too.

Claude didn't really care for the geopolitical situation of the continent, since he wasn't in a position to influence it. The complications resulting from the death of the two Shiksian nobles weren't his concern. He was but a mere new recruit with whom that had nothing to do.

The news about the ambassadors Stellin X sent to Shiks on the other hand allowed him to be certain that a large-scale war would break out with the kingdom's allied enemies. Otherwise, there wouldn't be a point for the kingdom to ask Shiks to remain neutral.

Darn... What a bad time to be enlisted... Looks like I won't be able to avoid going on the battlefield, Claude lamented.

Two days later, he arrived at Kafreizit and made his way to the base on Fokby Hill in the city of Gourneygada.

Chapter 183 - Reporting for Duty

Fokby Hill, the army base, was named after the hill upon which it stood, Fokby Hill. To Claude, however, it didn't look that large from the base of the hill.

After he disembarked the coach and waved Oask off, he walked to the base entrance, which rather resembled a toll gate from his previous life. It was a run-down, wooden building with a pole blocking the road.

Three soldiers stood guard. They stared at the coach as it approached, as an occupant disembarked, and it left again. People did not come there casually, so this was a rare occurrence. Those that did come, usually did so for business with the camp's commander, which meant they weren't dropped off by a coach that then left, making this an even rarer sight.

Claude walked up to the closest guard, his badge was different from the others' as well, so Claude assumed he must be the senior officer. Claude took out his orders during his last couple of steps.

"Good day. I'm reporting for duty."

The guard, his insignia two red lines, ignored the document Claude offered, turning instead to the small building and shouting.

"Shalinor! Come check this one's documents! If it checks out, take him to see First Lieutenant Hockham!"

"I can't read," the soldier said simply, a moment later, turning back to Claude.

"Ahh... I apologise for being so rude. I am Claude Ferd. I'm from Whitestag."

"It's fine. It's my fault I can't read. I didn't pay attention in class. I'm Horelick Amsran. You can call me Hok."

"A pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you."

A man came trotting over as the two finished their pleasantries and checked Claude's orders.

"His order checks out. He's one of the new recruits set for officer training."

"Alright, wait here a moment," Horelick said, "One of the logistics carriages should be along in a minute or two. You can hitch a ride. Wait in the building over there for now."

While Horelick's sentences were short and straight to the point, they were warm and amicable, he may be a man of fewer words than most, but Claude could tell he had a good personality on him. No doubt Claude's destiny as an officer helped things along, but that was to be expected.

"Thank you."

Claude smiled and followed him inside, taking a seat near the entrance. A quick chat with the two inside revealed that Sergeant Horelick would also be joining the officer's course. Having served in Bluefeather for three and a half years, he was selected for the course because of his stellar performance.

"It seems I'll be in your care, Senior Hok. I'm a greenhorn, so I hope you will teach me well as my senior."

Horelick shook his head.

"Can't help," he said with a solemn look, "Greenhorns and vets like myself are trained separately."

"Why?"

Horelick explained that Bluefeather's officer training course was supposed to select their candidates from veterans to promote them in preparation for the military expansion next year. They didn't expect that when news of the course broke, many of the top brass and their close associates wrote to the base to request a few spaces for the people they recommended to be able to skip a few ranks to become lowest-ranked officers in the army.

Under normal circumstances, a new recruit would first have to go through three months of training before they could officially join the ranks. Only after a year of good performance would they be promoted to corporal. Average recruits would only gain that rank after two years of service. Should one perform well after that, they would be promoted to sergeant in a year, twice as quick as average performers to attain that rank. The same applied for the promotion to staff-sergeant.

In other words, it would take a high-performing peasant at least three years and a half to become a staff-sergeant. Sergeants and corporals on the other hand were considered normal soldiers, not officers.

Should one gain recognition of a superior after being promoted to staff-sergeant, one could stand to be made into a master-sergeant, which was among the lowest class of officers. Only from that moment onwards did a soldier truly leave mediocrity behind and become a warrant officer. But above that level was the rank of sergeant-major, basically, reserves for the second lieutenant rank. As for second lieutenant and above, they were proper commissioned officers who could assume their title even after being discharged from the military.

In peacetime, the various corps of the army and other defense forces only retained a small number of fully-staffed units to cut military expenditure. But in times of war, the kingdom would go on a recruitment drive to fill up the corps' ranks. In that sense, the kingdom didn't lack senior officers. Instead, they needed more warrant officers and low-ranking ones as they were the ones who would train and march into the battlefield with the new recruits.

Bluefeather's officer training course caught the eye of many in a flash. Putting aside becoming a sergeant-major, being able to make it to staff-sergeant rank was akin to completely skipping the whole process of serving as a pawn for five years to become a warrant officer. Even though staff-sergeants and sergeant-majors had to lead troops to the battlefield as well and had high casualty rates, their ranks still ensured that they would stand a higher chance to survive than their lower-ranked peers. Other things aside, injured officers were prioritized over injured soldiers.

As there were too many people who got in to the course due to special relationships, Bluefeather had to split the course into two sections: one for high-performing soldiers who climbed through the ranks and would be directly promoted to sergeant-major after finishing the course, and another for those who entered the army based on connections. Their course would be far harsher and longer than the former's. In consideration of their complete lack of military experience, they would have to first join a three-month recruit training course before they started their officer training course.

Claude finally understood the extent of his treatment. According to Horelick, he would have to spend three grueling months as a new recruit before joining another three-month officer course. The following half year would be a tough one indeed.

After sitting around for a little longer, a long line of carriages arrived. They were there to send food to the base. Claude and Shalinor climbed onto one and rode up the hill after bidding goodbye to Horelick and the other two soldiers.

Fokby Hill wasn't conventionally tall. It was estimated to only be around sixty metres in height. But the roads uphill were long and curvy. Shalinor said that the base on the hill was actually only a logistics base. The main army camp wasn't there, but located at the west of Gourneygada instead. There were 30 thousand people there and around four thousand tents. It looked like a majestic, endless sea.

The carriages continued along the path for about half an hour and finally reached the base. It was quite slow to go uphill, but Claude believed it wouldn't take more than ten minutes to go back down. The carriage did have to haul all those sacks of flour after all, and the horses pulling it were getting rather old. While their steps were still firm, they were rather slow. The carriages also had to maintain proper distance and not cross over the path of another in front.

Fokby Hill Base was indeed a logistics base like Shalinor had described. There were warehouses all over the place. Claude thought that the reason was possibly because of the large training field they had there, which was easily five times the size of that of Whitestag Middle School. A row of grey-white tents had been erected there, likely to be used for the officer training course.

Shalinor took Claude to a log building. Claude saw the sign that read 'Training Department' painted in white on the outside. Shalinor stopped at the second shut door and knocked. Soon, a voice calling them to enter could be heard.

Shalinor pushed the door open and stood ramrod straight. "Sir, I, Private Shalinor, was ordered by Sergeant Horelick to bring a new recruit here to report for duty."

The building wasn't large, being at around 14 square metres. Within it were three office desks and behind one of them was a bearded second lieutenant who seemed to be writing something. He looked up at Shalinor. "Be at rest, soldier. First Lieutenant Hockham isn't in, but you may pass the conscription order to me and go on your way."

"Yes, Sir." Shalinor saluted, turned and winked at Claude before leaving without a word.

Claude stepped forward and greeted, "Good day, Second Lieutenant. I'm here to report for duty after receiving a conscription order."

The bearded man gave Claude a look down and scratched his forehead. "Hand me your conscription order, passport, and identification documents. I'll run a check."

"Yes, Mister." Claude complied obediently.

The man gave the conscription order a cursory look and no longer paid it much heed. What he wanted to check properly was the passport and identification documents.

"Why did you stay at Whitewood for one day?" The second lieutenant carefully screened the details on Claude's passport.

"I had no choice. There was an escaped fugitive in Whitewood and the city was on lockdown for a day. I could do nothing but sleep in my lodging for the whole day," Claude replied.

"Ah, I see..." The second lieutenant didn't make any other comment. After ensuring that the stamps on the passport were in order, he put it aside and checked the other documents.

"Not bad, you graduated first in the physical course and got Viscount Felidos' recommendation. It's no wonder you were allowed to join the officer training course. Finally, a candidate worth his salt. You're far better than the others who try to use favors to weasel their way in. You're called Claude Ferd?"

The bearded second lieutenant seemed to be quite the candid fellow. His disdain for the people who gained entry through connections was plain for all to see. "Yes, Mister. That is my name."

"Make sure to address me as sir or my title in the future, not mister," the man said, before he pulled on the rope bell on the back wall. He then opened a drawer to get a form out for Claude. "Fill this up."

It was a form of consent for applying to be enlisted. It required details such as the name, sex, age, family address and other details about family members.

Soon, a knocking could be heard on the door. A corporal entered.

"Corporal Kro, take this... what are you called again?" The second lieutenant looked a the identification and continued, "Claude Ferd. Go through the new-recruit procedure with him and take these identification documents with you. They have to be archived. Also, arrange for his accommodation. You can take him away after I stamp his form when he's done."

"Understood, Second Lieutenant Chirp," said Kro.

When Claude finished, Chirp gave the form a look and stamped it down before handing it to Kro along with the identification documents.

"Follow Kro. Remember, Claude. From today onwards, you're a member of Bluefeather," Chirp said.

Chapter 184 - The Four of Noble Blood

Corporal Kro was the kind of soldier who wore a stern expression all day and didn't fancy talking. He could perhaps be described as stiff. Though Claude attempted to strike up a conversation to acquaint himself, he received no other reply other than ohs and okays. He soon gave up after that.

Even though the man was quite cold, he did everything as he was told properly. After settling the paperwork with Claude at the office, he gave him a temporary wooden soldier identity plaque and brought him to the logistics department to get two sets of uniforms and necessities before leading him to the tents at the training field.

The tents were separated into the left and right camps. Claude was assigned to the right where around thirty or so tents were erected. Each tent accommodated a 'tent' of twelve, hence the unit name, and it was estimated that the right camp had around 400 or so people.

The tent Kro led Claude into was numbered 307, which stood for the seventh tent on the third row. It was made mostly of rough, grey-white linen which sandwiched a layer of oiled cloth to prevent leaks. Varnish was coated over the outside and the cloth was hard to the touch.

The tent was around 25 square metres wide. Claude estimated the dimensions to be around nine by three. Six double beds with metal frames were arranged in a row within and every one of them had a wooden cabinet about half a metre in height. The cabinet had two doors, and a key was hung on top of it.

"You shall sleep on the upper bunk here," Kro said as he removed a blank plaque hanging on it and wrote Claude's full name on it before replacing it at the end of the bed. "Also, the cabinet on top is for you. Store your personal artifacts within and keep the key well. Also, you may now change into your uniform. I will give it a check after you do."

"Understood." Claude didn't waste time and began changing.

Bluefeather's uniform was the same as the standard ones in the kingdom's other corps. It sported a red top and black pants and boots as well as a red army cap. The only differences were the dark blue feather was stuck on the cap as well as the dark blue sashes. The sashes were supposed to be worn on the left and right shoulder respectively to form an 'X' on the uniform before the belt was to be worn.

To the soldiers of Bluefeather, the feather and the sashes were signs of pride. It was a constant reminder of Bluefeather's achievements.

"Not bad. You do have the air of a military man about you," Kro praised, despite how less he talked.

"Corporal Kro, may I ask why I don't have shoulder marks?" Claude looked at his bare shoulders and back at the red-lined shoulder mark of Kro.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps you will only be given them after you complete the training," Kro replied, "For now, put these on first. I'll tell you how to wear them so you don't get it wrong."

They were a black leather backpack, a standard-issue bamboo flask painted black, a black-dyed goatskin sleeping bag and a portable copper canteen.

"Hang your flask on your left, not your right. The right side is for the battle pack later. Put your canteen in your backpack and make sure to also bring a first aid kit, some rations and other stuff in the future. The sleeping bag is to be rolled up and put atop your backpack. If you are ordered to sortie with full gear, you must have all these in place before joining the ranks," Kro explained briefly.

"Sir, why aren't we given weapons today?"

"That will also have to wait after you finish your training," Kro said, "Put your towel, cup, toothpaste, toothbrush and soap into the bronze basin here. The basin is to be placed on the wooden chair beneath your bed. When you sleep, you must be sure to pack your stuff up and hang it at the head of your bed so it's within hand's reach."

He handed Claude the temporary identification plaque. "Rest well in camp for the next two days. Training will begin the day after, so sleep here for the night. Make sure to bring this plaque with you when you go to the mess hall for food, as well as your canteen set. After you finish, wash your canteen properly before putting it back in your backpack. Don't leave the camp and don't simply wander into the warehouse area. As for baths, the bathing hall is next to the mess hall. You may enter if you have this pass with you."

Kro left after he said all he had to say.

Claude opened his cabinet and saw that the space within was segmented. There was a larger one and a smaller one. He stuffed his backpack into the larger space and his extra uniform in the smaller one before locking it up and pocketing his key. After that, he bundled up the clothing he changed out of and stuffed it into the bronze basin. He would give it a wash when he bathed that day and put it in his backpack after he let it dry. From now on, he would have to be in uniform.

Since there was still some time before dinner, he decided to lie down and catch some sleep. There would be time tomorrow to familiarise himself with the place. He had two days left after all and the base wasn't that large. If he did everything right away, he'd no doubt find himself bored not long after.

But just as he was about to fall asleep, a bunch of noisy folk entered the tent. Claude lost the urge to sleep completely and sat up. He wanted to see his comrades who had just entered.

The four who came were also wearing uniforms without shoulder marks. They started for a moment when they saw Claude on the bed and no longer caused a racket. The tent turned quiet immediately.

Claude jumped down from the bed and greeted them with a smile. "Nice to meet you. I'm Claude Ferd and I just arrived here."

The young, freckled, red-haired soldier at the front was about 1.7 metres in height, some ten centimetres shorter than Claude. "Nice to meet you. I'm Aboyev Bach."

"Moriad Kriman."

"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Dyavid Jil Randolph."

"Good to see you. I'm Berklin Rol Bencent. You can call me Berk."

"Are you nobles?" Claude asked the two at the back with some surprise.

The one who introduced himself as Berklin smiled. "We all are. The other two just didn't mention their courtesy names."

"Why?" Claude wondered, "If you are nobles, you can join the military academy in the royal capital and graduate as a second lieutenant at least. Why would you bother coming to the officer training course?"

Berklin looked a little down and replied with a forced smile, "I'm the seventh in my family and Mod here is the fourth. Dyid is the sixth and Bov is also the sixth. We don't have a place at the academy, so our families sent us here."

It was then when Claude realised that even though the four were nobles, their mothers were particularly adept at bearing one child after another. If the eldest son was to succeed the household and the second and third were sent to military academy, then the fourth onwards wouldn't have any special treatment other than the middle courtesy name they were born with. They could only compete with the peasants.

The other two possibly hid their courtesy names because they were illegitimate children. While their fathers admitted them to be children, the official wife in the household would never let them enjoy the same treatment as her own children did. Perhaps it wasn't their intention to not bear the courtesy name at all. They were probably denied that right by the official wife and not registered with the courtesy name.

"You guys came here early. I thought I was fast to come two days before training starts." Claude didn't know how else to continue the conversation.

"We were here for more than a week. We can't stand staying at home, you see, so we might as well come here sooner," replied the red-haired Aboyev candidly.

"Oh. Where are you all from? I came from Whitestag, a place in the three southwestern prefectures. Have you heard of it?"

Berklin replied, "We are all from the royal capital. After graduating from middle school, we had nothing else to do and stayed at home for half a year, much to the dismay of everyone else. By the time we heard that Bluefeather was running an officer training course, our families sent us here immediately."

Much could be gleaned from what he has said. Mainly, they probably didn't enjoy the affection of their parents much and were often neglected at home. When such a chance surfaced to send them away, their families didn't hesitate to jump at that chance to get rid of the eyesores.

"All of you just graduated? I did too," Claude said.

"It can't be... I would've thought you were 20 plus years old from how you look..." Moriad said with some surprise.

"Is that so? Do I look that old? It hasn't been half a year since my 18th birthday though..." Claude stroked his chin ponderingly.

They announced their ages one after another. Apart from Aboyev, the rest were all 18. Aboyev was born in the 11th month. Their birthdays were within two to three months of one another and Claude's, which was in the 3rd month, was the earliest, so they began to call him 'Chief Claude'.

"Don't call me that. There are 12 bunks in total here and only we five are here. We might be the youngest among the rest here you know--"

At that moment, the loud sound of the horn could be heard and interrupted what Claude was saying.

"What's going on? Why was the horn blown?" Claude asked.

"No big deal. It's just dinnertime," Aboyev replied.

"I just happen to be feeling hungry. Let's head to the mess hall." Claude took his canteen out from his backpack, only to see the four standing there unmovingly.

"What's wrong? Aren't you guys coming?" Claude shot them an odd look.

"We are... still not hungry," Dyavid said, before his stomach grumbled for all to hear. The other three, however, ignored it.

"What's wrong? Be clear with it. What's stopping you from going to the mess hall for food even though you're hungry?" Claude questioned as he put his canteen down.

The four didn't dare to look him in the eye. In the end, Berklin couldn't avoid the gaze and stammered, "T-those soldiers are bullies... When we were heading there for food, they said that we aren't real soldiers and have no right to get in line before them. They pushed us to the very back and only scraps remained by the time it's our turn... So... we might as well go there an hour later. There aren't that many soldiers there by then."

Claude felt the urge to laugh. Those poor noble kids were actually bullied to the point that they didn't dare to go to the mess hall for food. Didn't they know that the more they held it in, the more they would be bullied?

"I believe there are some enforcers there to maintain discipline, right?" Claude asked.

"They saw what happened, but they didn't bother. They only laughed at us mockingly," Aboyev said with distress.

What would you expect them to do if you keep your quiet? If you don't make a scene, they won't butt in. For them, it would be ideal to not cause anything at all. Nobody wants trouble no matter where we are...

Claude got his canteen and made his way to the mess hall. He turned to the four and said, "I am not one to be able to stand hunger. I can't wait an hour long. I'll go first. You guys can come an hour later if you want."

The four looked at Claude's back, and then at each other.

"What do we do?" Aboyev asked.

"Let's follow along! Worst thing that can happen is all five of us eat one hour later, anyway!" Berklin said with grit teeth.

"Alright, let's bring our canteens with us," Dyavid agreed.

Chapter 185 - Beatdown

The mess hall was right in front of the storage area. It comprised several connected gable-roofed sheds supported by log pillars beneath. Though it looked simple, there was a primitive, rugged look to it. Under the sheds were long wooden benches for the eating soldiers to sit.

Claude estimated that it could seat around 900 or so men, a little more than a tribe of troops. He could more or less tell from the number of long benches and tables. The military didn't seem as well-equipped as those from old Earth.

They didn't have any regulation on who could dine at a certain time, or whether they had to wait their turn or not. Instead, everyone simply ate at a certain time. Apart from some who stood guard on duty outside, most people could go to the mess hall. The meal time was also rather long, being at around two hours, and the number of benches there could only fit around half the men in the base. It wasn't hard to come to the conclusion that this base was quite under-manned.

The militaries of the various nations on Freia largely shared the same structure. Aueras, for instance, didn't split their units into squadrons, platoons and companies. Instead, the units were simply organised into tents, bands and clans. A tent had around ten to twelve men, just enough to fill up a tent. The leader of a tent would sometimes be known as tentsman and usually bear the rank of staff-sergeant, the lowest rank for an officer, or sergeant-major.

Four tents made a band, which, when fully manned, would number 54 people. The band leaders -- bandsmen, as they were called -- were usually sergeant-majors or second lieutenants and the units were also staffed with signallers, healers, guards and logistics troops. Four bands formed a clan that had a maximum of 320 people and was led by a second lieutenant or a first lieutenant who would be helped by a right-hand, ordermen, signallers, healers and more guards.

Four clans formed a tribe, the smallest independent combat unit of the kingdom's army. They could act independently to execute missions assigned to them. The role of a tribesman would usually be given to captains or majors. A tribe had a second-in-command, right-hand, staff officers, a tent of signallers, a tent of healers, a tent of enforcers and a band of guards. A full tribe numbered around 1200 men.

Due to the line-and-shoot nature of warfare, the militaries of the various kingdoms employed a four-four hierarchical structure. Four smaller units formed to become a larger one. Above a tribe was the line, and beyond that was the folk. Four folks formed a corps that had around 50-to-60 thousand men. In peacetime, that number was almost halved, and they only had to maintain a certain level of combat ability.

It was still rather early by the time Claude and the others reached the mess hall. There were only 200 or so soldiers there. Everyone got into four tidy queues since there was only four points where they could collect their meals. The other one was for officer use only and normal soldiers weren't allowed to use them.

Claude picked one line with fewer people and joined it. Surprisingly, nobody rushed him away because he didn't have a shoulder mark. Even the soldiers that joined behind him kept their quiet and didn't make the slightest move to harass him.

The cook in charge of dishing out food worked quickly, taking only ten or so seconds to deal with each soldier. After taking a look at the other eating soldiers, Claude came to understand why the cook was so fast. There wasn't much choice for food. Everyone had their canteens filled with meat and potato stew, two pieces of black bread sandwiching a piece of bacon, a fist-sized baked apple and free-fill red tea available for the taking at one side of the hall. Many soldiers used the cover of their canteens to fill it up with tea to use as a dip for their bread.

The food served there wasn't much better than what he had at his middle school cafeteria, but at least the amount was larger. It was enough to fill his stomach, but he had no idea about the taste. Claude despaired at the thought of having to eat the same food over and over again for half a year. It was quite torturous for a food lover like him.

The queue advanced quickly and by the time there were only seven to eight people left, another wave of soldiers entered. They chatted loudly as they approached. Claude gave them a glance and didn't really mind them, but his bare shoulders attracted quite a lot of attention.

Soon, two soldiers from the crowd approached Claude.

"You, come out here!" yelled a horse-faced soldier fiercely.

Claude ignored him and stared ahead. There were only three people left.

"Hey, I'm talking about you! Can you hear me?" said the other round-faced soldier as he gave Claude a push. The other soldiers nearby looked at them. Even the cook stopped all movement.

Claude rolled his eyes. "What? Do I know you? Or do you know me?"

"No, no I don't," the round-faced one said with surprising honesty.

"Then why should I bother with you?" Claude turned back and remained in the queue.

"Hey, kid, where are you from?" The horse-faced soldier came closer.

"Why's that your business? Are you the boss here? Are you in charge of this base?" Claude was feeling rather annoyed. They were the ones that bullied the four nobles. The two before him had rather high ranks. The lanky, horse-faced one was a sergeant and the round-faced one was a corporal, denoted respectively by the two red lines and one red line on their shoulder marks.

"You're not part of our base, so you can't eat here!" The horse-faced sergeant refused to back down and pointed at Claude's shoulders.

"Oh? This is weird. I didn't think that permission to dine at the mess hall was up to a sergeant like you to give. I think you ought to wash your face and freshen up. I'm sure you're half asleep. Buzz off and stop bothering me while I queue up," Claude snapped back without restraint.

The onlookers were getting more heated. Some said, "Jem, show him!" while others laughed mockingly and said, "Oh, I didn't think you were in charge of our meals, Jem." Some other soldiers asked Jem to wash his face like Claude suggested. They didn't seem to mind letting it escalate and couldn't wait to see the fight break out.

"Step out here now!" The round-faced soldier lost his cool from hearing the commotion and made his move, trying to pull Claude out from the queue by his collar.

Claude held his canteen in his right hand and tried to stop the two hands of the other, but it was pointless. The round-faced soldier had more force, and he pulled Claude out of the queue with a tug.

Angered, Claude dashed forward, lowered his body and harshly squatted down.

Snap! The round-faced soldier's scream reverberated through the whole mess hall. A few others were completely stunned from the sound.

Nobody could withstand the intense pain from a sudden snap of the wrist and the round-faced soldier jumped around in pain with his wrists hanging loosely down.

The horse-faced soldier snapped out of it and raged. "You dare hurt someone?!"

He rushed at Claude with his fist clenched, striking his left cheek. Claude shook and only stopped after taking two steps back. Snapping out of it, he tussled with the horse-faced soldier.

Claude himself was shocked at the cry of the round-faced soldier. He only intended to get the guy to loosen his hands, yet he didn't expect his action to be so powerful as to cripple both the poor guy's hands.

That move was something he learned in his past life. There was once when he went to the gym with his boss and met an instructor of self defense, so he listened in to the class. The instructor happened to be teaching how one ought to react when one's collars were grabbed. Without panicking, one should grab the opponent's hands back and squat forcefully with the body leaning against the opponent. The other would have to loosen their hands or risk dislocation.

Claude himself was taken aback by what transpired and wasn't able to react to the other's attack. He only snapped out of it after taking the punch and launched into a tussle. The mess hall was like a pot of boiling water. The soldiers that were there to eat surrounded the two as they cheered for the fight. As for the poor round-faced soldier, he had gotten used to the pain and finally stopped squealing, looking at Claude from the sides with his hands hanging weakly.

The horse-faced man wasn't Claude's match at all. In front of the cheering soldiers, Claude gave his opponent a chin uppercut and a suplex, smashing the poor guy into the ground harshly. He didn't fare too well himself, however, with his left cheek bruising and swelling and messy hair. Two holes were also torn in his new uniform.

After seeing his opponent remain on the ground unmoving, he breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to look for the canteen he dropped, the soldiers in the area moved aside and six more came in. One was shocked to see what happened and asked, "Jem, Enk, what happened?"

The round-faced soldier was already tearing up. He acted like a woman complaining to her parents about being bullied by her mother-in-law. After a quick explanation, the soldiers pointed at Claude and roared. "Beat him up!"

Fortunately, only four of them rushed in with great vigour. The other one helped the beaten horse-faced soldier up and one more checked on the round-faced soldiers injuries. The crowd nearby cheered for the encore.

If Claude could use magic, he could easily take down the four with Magic Missiles. However, he couldn't afford to let himself be discovered, so he relied only on brawling. The soldiers of Bluefeather were harder to take down compared to the Blacksnake thugs. Claude beat one down, kicked another flying, but was eventually subdued by the other two before the remaining four pummelled him nonstop.

That was when the onlookers complained about how unfair it was and that it should've been fought one-on-one, and how embarrassing it was for the four to gang up on a single person. Claude was already dazzled from the repeated hits. He couldn't take on all four with only two hands and had suffered a few punches to the face. The corners of his lips cracked, and he tasted blood.

Even so, he didn't surrender and beg for mercy. He doubled down and ignored the other three and grabbed one of them to beat him down no matter how many punches or kicks landed on his back. When he was about to pass out, he saw how close the necks of one of them were and bit down on it without a second thought. Blood spilled all over and the scream once more shocked everyone in the mess hall.

Claude heard the voices around him die down. The light from the glass oil lamp hung on the roof looked white and round as it swayed above his head before it scattered into countless spinning stars of light. He swayed weakly before falling to the ground unconscious.

Chapter 186 - Infirmary

Claude opened his eyes and saw a grey ceiling. Dry straw spanned the distance between the pillars. It was a small hut with four single beds, each covered in a dirty-yellow linen sheet. The tables in the corners of the room were buried under bottles and jars of herbs and concoctions. Some bottles were empty while others full, the rest occupied the space in between. He should be in the healer tent's infirmary within the camp.

He felt pain all over his body and difficulty breathing. The slightest movement sent searing pain boring through his bones. He struggled and stretched his hand out to pull on the rope dangling above his bed. A bell rang outside the hut.

A pair of feet slopped into earshot, the door clicked and swung open, and a middle-aged man in a white robe appeared in the hole in the wall. The apothecary nodded at Claude expressionlessly.

"You're awake. Good. How do feel?"

"Pain all over..."

"Normal. Your innards were shaken. It affects your whole body. I'm not surprised you're in pain. I checked you carefully. Your bones are mostly intact, just a couple fractures here and there, and a couple cracks elsewhere. I applied some healing concoction and healing paste and you should be able to get out of bed after five or six days." The apothecary didn't mind Claude's injuries in the least. "Compared to yours, the injuries of those you beat up are far worse. If they're not treated properly, they might end up crippled and have to be discharged."

Claude cracked a smile heavily.

"I don't think I was that good. I was hit non-stop. I can't have crippled them that badly."

"That's none of my business," the man said, his face still a mask, "My duty is to heal you. Whether you crippled them or killed them has nothing to do with me. That's up to the enforcers to handle.

"Still... your fight was impressive--" The apothecary picked up a couple bottles and mixed their contents. "--You sent six experienced soldiers to me in shambles. You should be proud, even if you ended up here yourself."

It didn't sound like the apothecary was being sarcastic. He struggled to think back at how the fight went down and shook his head. "I'm not as glorious as you say I am. I already forgot most of it. I only remember being beaten up, and they were completely fine."

The apothecary stopped all movement.

"Fine? Sigh... Both Corporal Enk's wrists were dislocated. He needs someone to do everything for him. If the treatment doesn't work well, his hands will be crippled and he'll be forced to retire. Sergeant Jem's innards were disturbed and three of his ribs broken. You only have to lie here for five to six days but it'll take him at least a fortnight to recover. Sergeant Ludon is the worst off. When the four were beating you up, you only focused on pummelling him. He got a concussion, a skull fracture, and a broken right arm. He hasn't woken up yet..."

The apothecary's descriptions were highly detailed. "Naturally, the worst one is Corporal Winbry. He wasn't that badly hurt initially, but somehow you got hold of him near the end and bit off a huge chunk of meat from his neck. Fortunately, you didn't bite into his carotid artery. Otherwise, he wouldn't even need to be sent here. He can be cremated and sent home immediately. I still don't know how well his treatment went. Perhaps his head will have to be bobbed on one side for life. I think he'll be discharged for this injury as well.

"The other two were only lightly injured. Sergeant Basak was head-butted by you on the nose and had it broken. Corporal Fide's lower leg was harshly kicked by you and now he's limping badly. I really don't know what kind of grudge you hold against them even though it's the first time you met. It's like you were trying to kill your sworn nemesis or something and resorted to such violent means. You just entered camp, and this isn't the battlefield. You're not even fighting your enemy."

Claude smiled bitterly. "Apologies. I didn't want it to happen like this either. I was only lining up for food and they provoked me first. I was only defending myself. You can't have me take their beatings without fighting back, right? As for what happened in the end, I was already dazzled and I can't remember anything at all."

The apothecary looked at Claude.

"You don't have to explain anything to me. Save it for the inquisitor. I can only say that those other six were unlucky. They are experienced soldiers who have been in the force for four to five years. They know how to hold back in brawls. But a rookie like you lashes out without control and only knows how to go for the vitals. Heck, you even used your teeth after being dazed a little. The whole camp now think that they were unlucky to run into a little savage like you. Do you know they also have a nickname for you now? They call you the Bloodluster."

The apothecary's reasoning was tight. The soldiers only hit him on non-vital spots during the brawl which wouldn't easily cripple him. Though it hurt, it was more hazing than anything.

Yet, perhaps because of his habit of fighting to the death with the Blacksnake thugs in Whitestag, he mostly went for the spots that hurt the most. Fortunately, the other soldiers knew better than to kill him from their experience, but that allowed him to use his teeth without thinking about the consequences.

Claude didn't really care about the nickname Bloodluster. One needed a reputation among the military to be taken seriously, anyway. Soldiers hated cowardice the most. Perhaps his life in the force would be easier after this fight. Most people probably would think twice before messing with him unless they could take the consequences of his backlash.

"Raise your head a little and drink this." The apothecary approached the bed with a bottle of synthesised concoction. "I had to siphon the medicine into you last night and wasted a good amount of it. Now that you're awake, you can drink it yourself. I believe your injuries will relax by nighttime and you won't hurt that badly anymore. You might be able to sit up and have some porridge."

The room was rather bright. The sun was probably shining bright outside. Claude struggled to raise his head. Both his hands were powerless, so he could only count on the apothecary to bring the bottle near to his mouth and gurgle down the bitter medicine.

"How long have I been out?"

"About a day. It's three after midday. You were sent here last night at six twenty. We were all shocked at your state when you arrived. It was as if you were roughed up by eight large brutes. But after a check, we found nothing but some external injuries. The only more serious affliction was the shock to your innards."

The apothecary ignored Claude's eye-roll and continued, "Then, the six unlucky fellows were sent here. Even though they appeared fine, a simple check caused them to be rushed to the emergency room at once. We worried that some of them might die if we were the slightest bit slower in their treatment. We might even be punished for not treating them appropriately..."

Claude shut his eyes and pretended not to hear anything. The graver the apothecary made the injuries of the other six sound, the more worried he was. No matter how justified his actions were, such serious repercussions were not what he expected. He didn't know how the upper brass would punish him and the other six.

"That's all for now. Rest for a bit and have a good sleep. I'll come again in the evening to change your medicines and feed you a bowl of porridge. If you feel unwell, pull the bell rope over here." The apothecary left after that.

The medicine he just consumed might have a sleep-inducing effect. He only had to lay down for a bit and sleep soon found him.

The lamps were lit when he woke. He noticed three additional people. The first was the apothecary, the second appeared his assistant. The man wore a white robe over his uniform. He appeared in his twenties -- another healer. The third was a first lieutenant. He carried a black briefcase and stood in the corner silently. He looked so cold and quiet and emanated an aura that discouraged anyone from approaching.

"I knew you were going to awaken around this time," the apothecary said gleefully. The medicine had worked as he intended. "How are you feeling now?"

Claude took two deep breaths. "Much better. My chest isn't that heavy anymore. My bones still hurt throughout, but it's better than how it felt during the afternoon. I can still take this amount of pain."

The apothecary nodded like he expected it.

"Bell, help him relieve himself and bring him his meal from the kitchen."

The young healer appeared to be there to nurse him. He took out a long wooden container from under the bed and removed the woollen blanket on Claude before pulling his pants and underwear down without hesitation. He then whistled before the cold lieutenant and the apothecary and commented, "Now that's a big one..."

Under Claude's hateful glare, the young healer Bell stuffed his member into the container and smiled to him. "Don't be ashamed, friend. I've seen countless brothers naked. After spending a couple of years in the force, you'd be able to strip completely naked in front of everyone without the slightest bit of shame and bathe openly in the sun. Your member also has quite some heft to him and is worth bragging about. The others with their little worms can only watch with envy."

Since Claude couldn't move, he could only endure it. He couldn't let out anything due to the shame and anxiety. To aid him, the healer whistled, and it actually worked. Not long after, the apothecary cursed.

"Damn, I just went to the lavatory and now I feel like going again."

The cold lieutenant seemed to be no longer able to bear that sight and followed the apothecary outside. Claude unleashed a torrent of water upon the container under the gleeful whistling of the healer and finally finished when it was about half full.

After pulling Claude's underwear back up, he covered the blanket down. "Lie down properly, friend. I'll get you your porridge right away."

He then left with the long container.

Claude's mind was a little blank. Seeing Bell leave, he quickly said, "Wash your hands before you get the porridge!"

Bell staggered from the shout and clutched his hands tight, managing to prevent the urine from spilling onto the ground.

"Got it. I'll wash my hands after pouring this away before getting your porridge."

A few moments after Bell left, the apothecary and the first lieutenant returned. The two didn't seem to have anything to say to one another and entered the hut with a straight face.

The apothecary went to Claude's side and checked on his mouth, tongue and teeth before asking a few questions. He seemed to feel that Claude was recovering well, given how awake he already was. He turned and nodded to the lieutenant, apparently suggesting that it was alright to talk to Claude, before retreating to the square desk in the corner and starting to work with the bottles of medicine.

The cold lieutenant made his way to the bedside and asked the obvious.

"You are Claude Ferd, correct?"

"Yes," Claude answered.

"I am the inquisitor, First Lieutenant Bilklan Her Sidori. I've been put in charge of investigating your little scuffle," the man said coldly.

Chapter 187 - The Whole Story

Claude described the incident with the other soldiers as honestly as he could. The only thing he didn't mention was how he dislocated the round-faced soldier's wrists. He explained that he was lining up for food, but, just before it was his turn, Corporal Enk came and yanked his collar. He was holding his canteen, however, and only had his left hand to try and push Enk away. So the three hands were entangled. Given that he wasn't as powerful as Enk, he was pulled out of the queue and tripped.

Sergeant Jem rushed in and tried to punch him. Claude lost his cool and dropped his canteen before tussling with Jem.

The rest of the gang came at him when he finished off the sergeant. But Claude was already dazed from all the hits and could only rely on his instincts. He eventually fainted and couldn't remember what had happened between the last punch he gave Jem and waking up in the infirmary.

The inquisitor noted Claude's testimony, stone-faced. He didn't ask a single question. He just took notes, only closing his little book once Claude stopped speaking.

"Not much different from the witnesses'. I suppose this much is to be expected from someone who graduated top of their class. Wasn't it a little too cruel to go all out against your own comrades?"

Claude smiled bitterly. He knew that he would be suspected for intentionally being harsh in the fight.

"I was only acting in self-defence, First Lieutenant Bikl--"

"Call me First Lieutenant Sidori."

Freia had a strict set of rules for addresses. Calling someone by their title and given name was considered a sign of intimacy. Using their family name indicated distance, either due to the nature of their relationship, or the lack thereof, or the nature of the particular situation.

Claude had wanted to use the man's first name to emphasise their comradery, but the inquisitor was intent on keeping him at a distance, emphasising instead their relationship as inquisitor and suspect.

"Understood. First Lieutenant Sidori, I regret getting into a fight with my seniors on the first day, but be assured it wasn't my intent. If you've read my file, you should know I'm a stellar hunter. I'm not trying to brag, just to explain why I couldn't control how harsh I reacted. I have honed my reactions into conditioned reflexes. I react to attacks without thinking."

"Couldn't you have given way and submitted to their demands to deescalate the situation? They are your seniors, officers even. You should respect their will as a recruit."

"I don't understand, First Lieutenant," Claude argued, "When I reported for duty, Second Lieutenant Chirp told me that I was a Bluefeather soldier. Corporal Kro also said I could use the mess hall and camp bath. I was queueing for food, however, those seniors said I wasn't a member of Bluefeather and shouldn't be allowed to eat there. Do they have a say in who is and isn't in the corps? Do their words overwrite Second Lieutenant Chirp's?"

The inquisitor was in a tight spot. Naturally, he wouldn't accept that Second Lieutenant Chirp was mistaken. In some sense, Claude was a pain in the neck. He wasn't truly at fault, but he did get into a fight on his first day. Both sides had to be treated, but Claude fought six people on his own. His combat skills were unparalleled, and he was unstable.

"I didn't mean it that way. I only believe that you could've taken a step back to go with their wishes. That way, you can avoid conflict from breaking out at all," the inquisitor said after some deliberation.

"Why should I take a step back as a member of Bluefeather?" Claude countered, "This is my first day here. As I was busy reporting for duty, I didn't have any lunch and I was hungry. When I arrived at the mess hall, the two hundred plus other soldiers there didn't have any problem with me. They saw me as one of them. But just before it was my turn, those select few came and demanded that I leave. It stands to reason that I ought to refuse such an unreasonable demand. What right do they have to say that I'm not a member of Bluefeather? I only argued back, and they were the ones who laid hands on me first. Even as I lay here in the infirmary, I don't think I have done anything wrong. I won't regret the consequences caused by my actions either. I think that the soldiers got injured by way of their own actions--"

Before long, the inquisitor stood up without a sound and put his notebook into his briefcase and prepared to leave. Before he opened the door, Claude called out to him. "First Lieutenant Sidori, I have another question. Why did those soldiers target new recruits for the officer training course like us? My comrades of the same tent came a few days earlier than me and they could only wait until it was almost time for the mess hall to stop serving to eat scraps to fill their bellies. If they went there early, they would be chased away by the same senior soldiers."

The inquisitor didn't make a sound before turning to leave.

The middle-aged apothecary chuckled and turned around. "That is a question I have an answer to, kid."

"You know why?"

"Of course--" the apothecary nodded, "--Do you know how many men Bluefeather has right now?"

"Around 30 thousand, right?" Claude answered, "A soldier standing guard at the foot of the hill told me that this isn't the main camp of the corps. The main camp is located on the west side of Gourneygada where there are about 30 thousand people."

The apothecary was slightly taken aback by the fact that Claude knew the answer to his question on his first day. "You're right. So, do you know about the recruitment drive at the end of the year?"

Claude shook his head.

The apothecary gleefully explained, "To fully man the corps, we have to recruit an additional 20 thousand soldiers. That is to say, there will be more than two thousand officer positions that will be filled in by promoting senior soldiers. The corps has decided that all staff sergeants will be promoted to master sergeants or sergeant majors. That would leave around eight hundred vacancies, so high-performing sergeants and corporals will be chosen for those positions and that is why the officer training course is carried out.

"But the sheer number of people recommending people for the course was unexpected. The military was faced with a dilemma because they can't turn down the important figures they have a good relationship with. In the end, they decided to split the course into two parts. One of them will be for senior soldiers who will graduate as sergeant majors. The other is for new recruits recommended to the force like you, who will graduate as master sergeants.

"Thanks to new recruits like you attending the course, the number of senior soldiers attending the course will have to be cut by half to make way for you all. A test was held for the senior soldiers and half of them were disqualified. The soldiers that troubled you fellows are among those who were disqualified. They are dissatisfied with the situation and they will look for opportunities to give you trouble.

"The corps isn't ignorant of the situation, either, but they have one eye closed to placate the disqualified soldiers and allowed them to vent to you new recruits. It's also to show you that your family backgrounds and whatnot won't do much for you in the force. Everyone is aware of the situation and won't cause a scene because of this, but who would've expected that a hothead like you would barge in and cause so much trouble on your first day and hospitalise six senior soldiers just like that. This incident will be trouble to deal with once it gets big and the upper brass is getting anxious over it as well."

Claude didn't know how to react to the apothecary's schadenfreude. Why was the old man so happy? It was like he loved watching his superiors freak out.

But at least, he came to understand the stance of the inquisitor. If he didn't handle the case of the brawl properly, it would cause a rift between the new recruits and the disqualified soldiers. Given that Claude had clearly refused to admit any wrongdoing, it caused the corps to be in quite the predicament. It wasn't easy to handle, especially after the senior soldiers lost six on one and ended up so badly injured themselves.

The door was pushed open at that moment. The healer Bell entered with a large basket and came to Claude's bedside. He took out a large bowl of wheat porridge from the basket. Seeing Claude's suspicious gaze, Bell said frantically, "Friend, I swear that I washed my hands properly before going to the mess hall. Don't worry. Look, I asked the chef to add an egg to your porridge. Doesn't it smell good?"

It did indeed smell of egg. He wasn't sure why the chef would go out of his way to give him one though.

"To be honest, friend--" Bell whispered near Claude's ear mysteriously, "--many people in the camp are happy that you beat up Jem and the others, the chef included. They have also been messed with by these very soldiers. Just because they joined the force a year or two earlier than us, they kept on flaunting their senior status and beckoned us to do this and that and beat us up for the most whimsical of reasons. Many people actually hate their guts.

"And those very same people are more than glad that you hospitalised them this time. When I told the chef that you were awake and fine, he happily added an egg into your porridge. Before this, when Jem and the others were on night duty, they would often go to the kitchen to ask for supper and if they weren't satisfied, they would start beating people up. Those of the kitchen are actually glad that you gave them a taste of their own medicine."

Claude found himself really unaccustomed to how intimate Bell was treating him, but he wasn't able to move freely at the moment. He even had to rely on Bell to feed him the food. He had no other choice but to let Bell continue to whisper into his ear.

Chapter 188 - Punishment

"I wonder... Is the brass going to ignore the seniors bullying greenhorns? Aren't there still enforcers and inquisitors? What about military law?"

"They will care, but it's useless," Bell said with a dark face, "The issue is their mistakes aren't really huge offences. They are very careful to not do anything that could get them into real trouble. They might demand you buy them stuff or do chores for them. If you refuse, they'll beat you up enough that the enforcers come out and scold them, but not enough to get them into real trouble.

"Once the enforcers leave, however, they'll beat you into a pulp. It won't stop there either; they'll torment you until you get into so much trouble you're sent to prison."

This was no different from the high-interest loan sharks Claude knew back on earth. While the stuff they did was wrong by definition, it wasn't a big deal and the police couldn't do much about it. It wasn't reason enough to detain them. Yet, it wasn't completely innocent either with all the non-stop phone calls, paint splatterings, curses written on the house walls, and the harassment. Nobody could ever be at peace.

That was why his boss had told him to never get high-interest loans even if it meant he had to sell his house or a kidney. Everything would fall apart once he did and he'd never see the end of it.

"Can't you guys complain about how people can't adequately control the bullies?" Claude asked.

"What use would that be? They'd be demoted at most; they won't be chased out of the camp. They've served five or six years already and have some merit. They ought to be master-sergeants or sergeant-majors, they've been demoted to their current ranks because of their bullying already. Enk was a sergeant two months ago and, but he was caught in the act and demoted.

"The officer training course should've been their chance, but due to their bad reputation and the sheer number of people they've offended, nobody put in any good words for them. The brass haven't dealt with them properly, but they used this to disqualify them from the course. That's why they pick on new recruits like you."

Claude could only smirk helplessly. As a transmigrator, he had wanted to live an easy, happy, and free life. That was why he could fit in so well as a 16-year-old and enjoy his life after transmigration instead of overthinking stuff. His family had suffered quite a setback recently, but he solved the worst of it.

He'd thought this mess would be equally simple, but it turned out to be a massive pain in the neck. He recalled a saying he had read online -- he didn't know who the author was. It said the simpler you wanted something to be, the more complicated it was, until it crushed you under its weight.

"By the way," Claude asked, swallowing another mouthful of porridge, "what are these merits of theirs? We haven't had a war in a while. So where did they get merits?"

Bell laughed.

"You don't only get merits from battle, you know. Now that you mention it, they really lucked out. There was a revolt in Kafreizit two years ago. I had just enlisted. The streets were overflowing with protesters demanding we return them to Nasri. Naturally, it was not going to happen. We were told to suppress the revolt in Gourneygada. I really thought I was gonna die...

"Then something completely unexpected happened. Jem and the rest lined up in front of a protest and fired into the crowd. I believe they killed ten people. The rest dropped everything they were carrying and scattered in every direction. We just had to walk over the shit they left behind and the city was ours again. Those shits were rewarded with several merits afterwards. They've been treated with silver gloves since as well, which is why they've become so blatant with their bullying."

"Surely that can't be," Claude gasped, "Kafreizit has been part of the kingdom for two decades. Why would the people still demand to return to Nasri?"

"I don't know--" Bell said, pushing another spoon of porridge into Claude's mouth with a frown on his face, "--it's been almost three years since I enlisted and I stay here most of the time. Even when I have a day off, I just go on walks in the city. How do I say this... I think the people still don't think of themselves as citizens of the kingdom. I think they still hate us for the war. I heard that while the situation in the city is fine, the outskirts aren't in good shape. We can't stray from the group when we go there. Who's to say some native, fisherman, or farmer, or maybe even merchants or hunters, won't murder us on the spot? That's what the vets say, at least."

How? Claude was a little confused. Nasri lost the war two decades earlier and was forced to cede three prefectures, true, but twenty years had since passed. How on Freia had the kingdom failed so spectacularly to integrate the population?

Bell didn't know why either. He enlisted with Bluefeather three years earlier and seldom left the camp. He had never had any interest in learning why everyone still hated the kingdom. The apothecary, on the other hand, did know something and said it was mainly a problem of policy.

Many of the people had lost family members in the last war. Nasri conscripted heavily from the prefecture during the war, so every family had at least one person in the army. Claude couldn't exactly blame them now he knew what had happened. He didn't think he would have forgiven the kingdom had that happened to him. If his father had been one of the people killed in the war, he might just have gone out killing every soldier he saw. At the very least he would spit at the idea of being a citizen of Aueras. It didn't help that the kingdom immediately set about heavily taxing the prefectures.

Even now, they still paid the highest taxes in the kingdom.

As a result of the pressure that put on the local economy, most of the people fled to Nasri. Nasri made good use of the influx of old subjects and had recovered very well. Given the rate at which it had been doing so at the time, the leftovers in the three prefectures started stirring up trouble to return to the kingdom. Nasri was all too happy to fund and supply these rebels and had been active in the prefectures for at least a decade now.

"Killing people isn't the best solution," the apothecary said, "The army summarily executes anyone they catch with Nasrian firearms. It only enrages the rest of the populace, however and has kept old wounds from healing. Many of the people don't actually care about being returned to Nasri anymore, at least, that's not what's driving them to their uprisings, they just want to take revenge on every Aueran they see for the deaths of people they know and love.

"We're just grunts, so we don't know why our superiors do what they do, but as long as their current policies remain in force, things won't ever get any better. Our presence doesn't help things a smidge either. We're a walking, talking reminder to them that we don't think of them a Auerans yet either. Would either of you accept this kind of treatment?"

Claude finally finished his porridge while the apothecary blabbered on. Bell wiped him down with a linen cloth and changed his bandages.

The apothecary finally finished his diatribe shortly after Bell finished. He shook the bottle in his hand almost derisively.

"Aaaghh, I'm just running my mouth. Little guys like us can't change things, least of all our superiors' minds. Even if the results aren't good, they'll just blame it on us and say we didn't implement their plans correctly. 'Shit flows downhill', and all that."

Claude had nothing to say. Rather, he didn't have anything to add. He wasn't even sure how he should continue the conversation.

Bell, on the other hand, smiled.

"Doctor Perunt," he said, "it's a waste of your talent to be an apothecary in our little camp. You're so talented. It's a shame your luck was just not that good. You could've made a good viceroy or even prime minister."

So he was called Perunt; Doctor Perunt, no less. It meant he was close to being an intermediate apothecary at the very least.

Perunt shot a gaze of contempt back at Bell.

"You done? You can kindly buzz off if you are."

Bell left with the basket, shoving his tongue in the apothecary's face on his way out. He stopped in the doorway and turned to Claude.

"By the way, friend, when you've recovered, watch out for a staff-sergeant called Fitney. He's Jem and his gang's boss. You were quite lucky he wasn't there yesterday, or you'd have come out of it far worse. The chef told me he boasted about showing you a good time when you get out of here."

Claude couldn't care less about who gave him a hard time, so he gave Bell a half-hearted nod of thanks and watched him leave. Doctor Perunt came over shortly after with another concoction for Claude to drink.

"Doctor," Claude began after he'd downed the bitter liquid, "how do you think the bigshots will punish me after First Lieutenant Sidori makes his report?"

"Thirty canes perhaps," Perunt replied unconcernedly, "The boys upstairs try to avoid antagonizing people, so you won't escape a good caning. You will have only just recovered, so I don't think they'll be too harsh on you. If you're lucky, they might just give you a couple days of solitary confinement. But trust me, you'll enjoy the canes more than solitary confinement. Not just anyone can make it through a day in that place..."

Chapter 189 - Confinement

In the coming few days, Claude recovered rather quickly. Perunt was quite the competent herbalist and had amazing skills. Claude's injuries turned for the better day by day according to his predictions. On the fifth day, Perunt inspected Claude's body one last time and said that he could get out of bed and move about, but it would still take a while before he was fully recovered.

Claude was quite curious about that assessment, as Perunt had said in the beginning that it wouldn't take more than five to six days for him to be more or less fine. Yet, now he had to rest for a little while more? Bell, however, nudged him on the waist and chided him. "Are you a fool? Friend, why would you leave the infirmary now? Do you want to march around with the new recruits? Staying here is far better than being out on the fields. Trust me, the longer you're here, the better it'll be."

Claude finally realised why Perunt reported to Sidori that it would take him longer than the initial assessment to fully recover. The reason for that was because Sidori was there to announce the punishment for both sides of the brawling incident.

Perunt's guess of thirty canes and three days of confinement was accurate, and that it would be inflicted on both sides without exception, regardless whether the senior soldiers instigated the fight or not. After all, Claude did hit rather hard even though it wasn't him who started the fight. Taking into consideration that both sides were injured in the fight, the upper brass considerately decided to postpone their punishment until after they've recovered.

Perunt was quite easy to get along with, as Claude had seen for himself. Apart from rambling about his politics and policies and how he could've handled things better, he was still a white-robed angel to his patients. Claude merely thought that the herbalist was an angry, middle-aged intellectual.

The doctor's experiences in life were quite inspirational, in fact. He was born in poverty and got a chance to study in the shrine of the war god during his childhood. Only after toiling through with lots of effort did he win the favour of a herbalist in the shrine and get accepted as his disciple. When he matured, he did his best to treat peasants and gained quite the reputation in his hometown, as well as his fair share of envy and hate. On his 27th birthday, he got conscripted and had served as Bluefeather's healer since.

A military healer, unlike a recruit, only had to serve for ten years to gain dignitarian status. Perunt served the camp for 16 whole years and wasn't willing to leave it after his term was over. Even after he got dignitarian status, he remained there as a healer. According to him, it was far better staying in the camp as his food, shelter and other needs were provided for and he was paid a good amount of money. There wouldn't be a need to go back to his hometown to fight his colleagues for patients to treat.

Claude remained at the infirmary for a dozen more days, getting into long-drawn debates with Perunt when he was bored. Being a person who lived in both worlds, Claude was able to hold his ground in their conversations with the doctor. It didn't take long before Perunt saw a kindred soul in Claude and thought he had a mature and intellectual mind. When he found that Claude had basic medical knowledge, he was elated and even wondered whether he could get him to stay back as his assistant.

It was too bad that Claude was there for the officer training course unlike other new recruits, so there wasn't much Perunt could do. The most he could do was to prolong Claude's stay in the infirmary. But no matter how long that was delayed for, he would have to leave sooner or later. On the 15th day since Claude joined the camp, First Lieutenant Sidori brought two enforcers with him with the intent to lead Claude for his punishment of three days of confinement.

The location was on the other side of the field. The four crossed the large field and attracted lots of gazes. There were a bunch of senior soldiers training on the field as well as another batch of new recruits. All eight hundred pairs of eyes watched as the four walked past them.

The base was located on a piece of level ground halfway up the hill and Claude noticed that the confinement chambers were on the cliff itself. It was an entrance into a dark, mountain cave outside of which two enforcers stood guard. Inside the cave was a long walkway lined with torches on both sides of the walls separated every ten metres or so. The low light only seemed to emphasise the quietness of the cave.

Sidori brought Claude to the very end of the cave. There was another dark, short corridor around ten or twenty metres in length. Small metal doors lined both sides of that corridor.

Sidori opened one of them and motioned with his chin for Claude to enter. Inside the door was complete darkness. Nothing could be seen with the naked eye. One of the enforcers removed a torch from the wall and stretched it beyond the door before groaning, "Get in."

Claude was finally able to see a tight little room beyond the door. There were three stone steps leading downwards into a space around 1.6 by 1.4 square metres in area and some four metres in height. Next to the stone steps was an uncovered wooden potty where he would have to excrete and defecate in.

The moment he entered, the metal door behind him was closed shut. The room was completely dark once more. After a while, he finally saw a spot of light atop him. He looked up and saw that it was an air hole about the size of two palms and closed off with two metal bars. It seemed like it had been dug out from the thick slab of stone above. The light from the outside was reflected off the walls into the little hole to illuminate his room ever so slightly so that it was just enough for him to make out the inner structure of the room.

There was only room to sit in that room. Lying down wasn't possible. It was only 1.6 metres in length and one couldn't even stretch one's legs out fully. Even after moving the wooden potty aside and stretching out the legs, it would feel even worse. As the room was only 1.4 metres wide, he would have to sleep while hugging the potty if he didn't leave it in its original position.

The tightness of the room made it feel rather claustrophobic, and the height of three to four metres only made one feel lonelier. It was no wonder Perunt said soldiers were more willing to be caned 30 times than suffer solitary confinement. It was indeed somewhere unfit for humans to dwell, save for idiots or the mad. Normal humans would easily go insane from staying in such places too long.

Another sound could be heard outside. Claude realised that footsteps sounded all the louder from within his little room. The steps stopped outside his door and was followed by a loud clack. The door was opened and the light from a torch seeped into the little room and shed an odd glow on the walls within.

A hoarse voice said, "You, come here. Take this blanket and toilet paper. Also, you'll be having two meals a day and they'll be sent to you from the opening at the bottom of this door. After you finish, return the utensils the same way, understood?"

Claude approached soundlessly and received the blanket and ten or so pieces of toilet paper. The door was shut once more, and the room was once more submerged in darkness.

He rested his back against the ice-cold wall and shut his eyes. While solitary confinement was terrifying for most soldiers, it was a reward to Claude. Only there could he meditate without worry of being interrupted.

The second hexagram formation within his mental void space was less than half filled with the mana converted from the second type of element he absorbed. Filling this hexagram up would still take a long time. He wasn't sure how long it would take for him to become a two-ringer.

After one meditation session, he heard footsteps coming down his corridor again, accompanied by the whispers of two enforcers. They were betting whether Claude would climb out of his room on his own or whether they would have to go inside and drag him out. Based on their experience, most soldiers confined for the first time would have to be dragged out after three days.

The two enforcers were there to deliver Claude's meal. The food was quite simple; two finger-thick pieces of black bread served in a wooden plate and a wooden cup filled with water. There were no other utensils, probably out of worry that the inmates would sharpen them into harmful tools that could cause unpredictable harm.

The lower opening of the wooden door was only a foot long and around ten to twelve centimetres in height, barely allowing for the plate and cup to be pushed through onto the first step. Claude got up and took the bread and water, scarfing them down quickly, before pushing the cup and plate back through the opening. What he needed was peace and quiet so as to not be disturbed during his training.

During the afternoon, Claude continued meditating. After two sessions, he tested out the spells he learned. Apart from the seven basic spells engraved in his hexagram, other spells could only be cast by tracing the formation diagram in mid air. He had left his magical books with Angelina after leaving to join the military so as not to be discovered. Privacy was hardly in good supply in the military after all and it wouldn't do for him to keep the books by his side, lest he was discovered to be a magus.

Thanks to his amazing hearing, he noticed that he was the lone inmate in this corridor. The enforcers wouldn't come on patrol for no good reason either, so he daringly practiced his spells in his room and even cast a Luminous Pearl to light his room out brightly.

After expending the mana in him, he began to meditate once more. The enforcers returned during the evening with the same things in the afternoon. They started to wonder as the recruit in confinement was a little too quiet unlike the usual soldiers. Normally, some who were confined for the whole day would have no appetite to eat anything or cause a great ruckus by throwing tantrums. There were even some who would talk as much as possible to the enforcers, even if it meant incurring a harsh scolding, perhaps even enjoying it.

Perhaps not enough time had elapsed for Claude. Maybe he would react the same after another night and start crying or raging the next morning, thought the enforcers after they left with the bowl and cup Claude returned.

He continued to meditate after that. The only downside of meditating that much was how invigorated he was. He was feeling rather hyperactive. He pushed both his legs against the side walls and slowly inched upwards to reach the air hole in the top for a deep breath, before he grabbed onto the metal bars to do pull ups.

After some training, he jumped back down and did push ups with both his hands on the stone steps. When he was feeling fatigued, he laid against the wall, stretched his legs out and slept with his blanket on.

When he woke up in the morning, he felt rather uncomfortable, perhaps due to the half-sitting sleeping posture. Only after much stretching could he get rid of the sores on his shoulders and back before he started meditation.

Three days passed quickly and footsteps could be heard at the corridor once more. He could hear one additional set of steps. It was apparent that his time was up.

The metal door unlocked with a bone-chilling clack and light poured into the room. One enforcer poked his head in to see how Claude was doing, only to see him sit up from the wall and ask with a casual tone, "Oh, is my time up?"

The two enforcers were completely dumbstruck. Even First Lieutenant Sidori was taken aback. He looked around in the room and saw that everything was normal, before he stared at Claude suspiciously. "How did you spend the past three days?"

"How?" Claude shrugged. "I laid there and slept, and ate, and slept, and ate, and slept. That was about it. It's really peaceful here. I kinda like this place."

Chapter 190 - Training

Claude had become somewhat of a mythical figure with the new recruits for fighting the vets on his first day and sending six of them to the infirmary. The fact that he had been sent there himself was conveniently ignored. His four noble tentmates saw him as their hero, at the very least, and they'd made sure everyone else saw him that way as well.

Now that he had recovered from his injuries and returned, everyone wanted to talk to him and make good impressions. They stared at him whenever he entered a room or walked by. It all made Lieutenant Sidori very uncomfortable.

"Lieutenant Most, the new recruit's solitary confinement has ended. He's returning to base today. Please sign this," Sidori said as he handed a document to the bearded second lieutenant, a stern expression plastered all over his face.

Claude gazed at the pair, deeply amused at their behaviour, then trailed off to the officer's tent, which was about a quarter larger than the tent most grunts like him got.

The bearded man took the document wordlessly, signed it quickly, and handed it back to the lieutenant.

"Pay attention to his training. Make sure he becomes a Bluefeather soldier through and through. I will not accept him tarnishing our feather."

Most shot Sidori an odd look.

"Aren't you an enforcer? Training has nothing to do with you. I am not a greenhorn instructor, Lieutenant Sidori, I know how to whip recruits into proper shape."

Sidori didn't say anything in reply. He just spun around on his heels and marched out of the tent. Most turned to Claude with a questioning smile on his face.

"What in the world did you do to piss him off that much?"

Claude just stared back at him with an unknowing smile of his own. Most patted his shoulder with a soft sigh.

"Whatever, it should be fine. The greenhorns have taken quite the liking to you after your little escapade. And you did quite well against six vets, if I do say so myself. You're also the first I've seen come out what-looks-like-unscathed from three days of solitary confinement. You can take a break for the rest of the day. Go clean yourself, you stink! And have a good meal in the infirmary. Solitary or not, and recruit hero or not, I won't go easy on you starting tomorrow."

Claude straightened up into a half-decent attention pose and saluted the second lieutenant in an only quarter-way decent manner.

"Thank you, Sir."

Claude marched off to his tent. When he opened the blinds and stepped inside, he was instantly surrounded and accosted by Aboyev, Moriad, Dyavid, and Berklin. Claude nearly lost his jaw when they suddenly started serving him like he was the noble and they the commoners.

The beds had already been divvied out and one was left empty for Claude. A couple of youths whose faces Claude didn't recognise, stared at him reverently and greeted him with loud cries of 'chief'.

The recruits were on the midday lunch break, waiting for the mess hall to horn for lunch. Aboyev told Claude they had another hour or so before that would happen, enough time for a good nap -- to which most seemed to be looking forward very eagerly. Lunch would be a relative rush, and then they'd be off on afternoon training. Training started at two thirty and continued until near sunset. Training was four to five hours a day.

Claude felt his jaw drop at how relaxed training was. Was this the supposed 'harsh' three-month training about which he'd been told? This was even more relaxed than university studies; even military universities were far stricter and worse than this, not to mention having actual basic training.

"It's such a pain to have to go through this every day for three whole months... You're lucky, Chief. You got to skip half a month," Moriad groaned.

Berklin gave him a malicious glance before voicing his own opinion.

"Why don't I give you a good beating, then? I'll make sure you won't be able to get out of the infirmary for a month."

"Tch, in your dreams," Moriad shot back, "I'd rather go through training. Skipping training is all well and good, but I don't want to be stuck in a bed for a month!"

"Alright, enough. I'm grateful for your warm welcome, but I stink right now and need a bath. I haven't had a good meal in three days either. We can talk as much as you want when I have a clean body and a full stomach," Claude interjected.

"I'll go with you, Chief. I'm soaked from this morning as well. I can use a bath too," Aboyev chirped enthusiastically.

It didn't take ten seconds for the rest to decide to join them as well, so the five headed for the bath house.

Chafing or not, four minions did make life quite convenient for Claude. The four set about washing him the moment they got into the communal bath. Berklin took to washing Claude's back, Aboyev and Dyavid washed his limbs and took care of his nails, while Moriad handled brushing his teeth.

The bathhouse sat on the lower end of the base, right above a small stream fed by a spring on the top of the hill. The water was piped in through ceramic pipes and fed into several large tubs. It was all quite clean, though the water was pretty cold.

The posse finished washing up, tending to Claude's every whim along the way, then they headed for the mess.

Two of the hall's stoves had been removed. When Claude inquired about it, Aboyev told him the change had been made after his fight. The hall had been expanded and split in three, each with two stoves. The first third was for officer's use only. The second for the regulars stationed in the base, and the third for recruits.

Claude cursed the army under his breath. If they'd done this before he'd come, he wouldn't have gotten into that fight in the first place. Perunt was completely right when he said the brass thought with their arses instead of their heads. They weren't thinking 'if it isn't broken don't fix it', they were thinking 'if it's broken but not blowing up, then don't bother even thinking about it'.

Two new stoves or not, the menu was still exactly the same: baked-potato-and-meat stew, black bread with bacon, and a baked apple with red tea.

The meat, regardless of how bland it was, still made his mouth water after three days of black bread and water. He all but prayed for the cook to give him a double serving of the stew, but alas, he got just the usual. His minions weren't very happy with the food, however. They'd been having exactly the same stuff for well over a fortnight now and they could barely stomach it any longer.

They'd already mastered the ancient military technique known as flick and swallow. Any good soldier knew this technique by the time he finished basic. The food was first apportioned into pieces small enough to be easily swallowed. The food was then scooped in small batches by spoon or fork, brought to the mouth, flicked over the tongue into the throat, and immediately gulped down with whatever liquid was on hand before any had a chance to hit the taste buds on the tongue. Every third of fourth bite was also followed by a generous rinsing of the mouth to make sure nothing had stayed behind and was about to roll onto the tongue.

Claude ate in a very similar manner, but for the exact opposite reason. He was so hungry he couldn't be bothered to chew. He was done in barely two minutes, and dashed back to the cook for a second serving, which the cook was all too happy to give him, just glad to see someone looking at his food with anything other than utter disgust and unwilling resignation in their eyes.

Claude was busy polishing his third helping when a senior marched into the hall and stood in front of Claude, glaring at him.

"Can I help you?" Claude asked after he swallowed the last morsel on his plate.

"Claude Ferd?" the man asked as curtly as was probably possible for any man to be.

"I am. Who are you?"

"Staff-Sergeant Fitney. you don't know me, but I've heard about you a couple times. You sent my brothers to the infirmary a fortnight ago. I'm here to thank you for giving them such a good rest."

The staff-sergeant's teeth shattered through his dry lips.

Staff-Sergeant Fitney? That sounded familiar. Oh right, Bell had warned him to keep his guard up against this one. He'd boasted about giving Claude a what-for after he came out of the infirmary.

Claude stood up quickly, ready for a fight.

"What do you want?"

Fitney shook his head.

"Relax, I'm not going to beat you up in front of so many eyes. I have more than enough time to whip you into proper shape. Look forward to it. You won't escape it."

Fitney turned and left, leaving his words dangling behind him. Claude sighed, he had hoped the brawl would put an end to such troubles, not be the start and cause for more. He wasn't too concerned about it in general, but Fitney's comments about him being unable to escape roused his suspicions.

His minions didn't make so much as a squeak while Fitney was there.

"Who's he? His smug unnerves me. Why don't we take him out together, Chief? Since he's so envious of his comrades, let's help him join them."

Claude rubbed his nose, frowning.

"Forget it. You only act tough when he's not here. What use is that? I don't need you to beat him up for me. You'd be of better use finding out what kind of bastard he is."

"Got it, Chief. We'll scout for you. We'll find out everything there is to know about him, even at what age he stopped wetting his bed," Berklin smiled, patting his chest confidently.

Claude joined training the following day. He'd missed a fortnight of training, so he was given a corporal all his own to catch him up. The corporal in question was Kro, the one who'd tended to him on Chirp's orders on the first day.

The man was quite highly regarded amongst his peers, but he kept to himself and rarely interacted with anyone. He didn't speak much either. Most of the sounds that left his mouth were grunts and humphs.

Kro drilled him on the basics of drill, specifically, saluting, posture, marching, and the other basics of movement on the parade ground, including the various horn blasts. Claude was up to speed with that in three days. The salutes took him a while longer than the rest because they were quite different from what he was used to from Earth, but similar enough to keep him defaulting back to Earth's version. The salute was still a palm to the head, but the thumb was straight, instead of curled under the palm, and pressed against one's temple, which meant the other fingers, all straight, stretched over the forehead, instead of resting against the temple. Quite like the gesture for searching for something, or protecting one's eyes from the sun.

Kro told him the salute had been standard for hundreds of years, and was developed for enemy generals to show one another they were unarmed when meeting for peace talks and various other negotiations. Once armies started using firearms more generally, the salute was standardised across the entire rank ladder.

Claude felt quite awkward when practicing posture. He had to puff out his chest to an uncomfortable degree, tuck in his buttocks and push out his lower back so his spin from his neck to his coccyx was one straight line. He also had to practice pacing and gait so he walked in perfect synchronisation with everyone else. He thanked his lucky stars that he didn't have to do something like the goose-step.

The horn signals were quite simple, though he doubted they'd be easy to hear in the chaos of battle. The signals had three pitches, called tones, high, mid, and low, and were either long, or short. Combining the three tones and the two lengths into strings of notes made orders. The strings could get quite long, but most of the content was dedicated to singling out the specific unit for which the order was intended, the actual action portion of the order was very short and simple. There weren't all that many orders either, and they tended to be on the vague side.

Second Lieutenant Most was very satisfied with Claude's rapid progress and praised Kro to no end. At the end of the third day the lieutenant announced that Claude would be joining the rest as of the next day, which he did.

Several instructors formed a loose cordon around the block of recruits. The head instructor stood in front and yelled out orders, which the rest repeated in a cascade away from him. The other instructors also swung their long sticks frequently to slap someone doing something wrong. They practiced the same sets of orders over and over until the instructors were happy, and then they'd do them all over again the next day, and the next, and the next.

Chapter 191 - Training Ongoing

"Boss, I got some news about that Fitney fellow," Berklin said as he approached Claude with an air of mystery.

Claude was currently playing a game of war chess with Aboyev, Dyavid and Moriad. It was a game similar to the Chinese game of Luzhanqi, but it was played two on two. The goal was to eradicate all enemy pieces and it was the preferred way for many soldiers to spend their free time.

"Oh? Let's hear it. What kind of guy is he?" Claude moved his war wolf piece and claimed Moriad's centaur scout piece. But Aboyev quickly made a good move and encircled Claude's war wolf unit. Claude's partner, Dyavid, had his griffon entangled with Moriad's pegasus, so Claude wasn't able to get any reinforcements for his surrounded unit. It seemed that the war wolf piece would soon be sacrificed.

War chess was said to have been passed down since the age of magic. Players could choose different races to play the game with. The choices were humans, elves, beasts and demons. Each race had twelve types of units and the most popular choices were humans and elves.

However, there was only a set of human pieces that came with the game they had and Dyavid had chosen it first. Aboyev and Moriad both chose elves, so Claude could only go with beasts. As he wasn't familiar with the attack ranges and power of the beast units, he was being cornered again and again. It seemed that he would be losing that match soon.

"Boss, the beasts' behemoth moves the slowest. Choosing the beast race is just feeding the elves free meals. Their phoenix alone can burn your behemoth with its breath given that the attack range is twice that of behemoth's sharp claws. Bov and Mod both chose the elf race and there are two phoenixes. By the time your behemoth gets close enough to attack, it would've been burned to crisp already."

Berklin wasn't in a rush to report what he had found out and instead bothered himself with criticizing Claude's choice of race. According to him, the different races worked against each other. Humans were effective against elves, elves against beasts, beasts against demons and demons against humans. As a war chess enthusiast, he had been playing the game since he was twelve and no strategy in the game could be used to overwhelm him.

"Fine, I concede." Claude put the pieces back into the box. He was just starting to learn the game and was far from an expert. He even had to flip the rule book in the middle of the game and that was quite troublesome.

During the age of magic, magi would channel their mana into their pieces and they would automatically move and attack according to their respective ranges. But nowadays, players would have to flip through the thick rulebook to find that they're attacked by an enemy piece.

Behemoth for example was a unit with the most life and attack power among all bosses in the game. It had 40 thousand hit points and 30 thousand attack points. The drawback was its movement speed and short attack range. It could only advance one square at a time and attack one square ahead.

The phoenix of the elves on the other hand had the lowest hit points at ten thousand, but its fire breath could attack two squares away. The damage, on the other hand, was only ten thousand. Should a behemoth approach a phoenix, it would be able to kill it in one move. But before arriving, it would first have to suffer two breath attacks and lose half its life. It would lose all its life to take down two phoenixes. Berklin was right. According to the rulebook, by the time the behemoth reaches the phoenixes, it would've been burned to crisp already.

The surrender of Claude was soon followed by Dyavid's. Even if his human pieces were more effective against elves, he was up against two players and had to be even more careful. It didn't take long before he caved from the pressure.

With the game over, Berklin finally remembered what he wanted to tell them. "Oh, boss, Staff Sergeant Fitney is actually quite the impressive character."

"How so?" Claude asked.

"He's a master pugilist. When he was young, he had quite the reputation in his hometown of Krindos, a city in the prefecture of Chanyalar. He was forcefully conscripted at the age of 21 and fought all the tough guys in the whole camp when he was just a new recruit. He has a laid back personality and was admired by all the new recruits of the time. The fellows you sent to the infirmary joined the force at the same time he did and appears to be his tentmates back then. Their relationship goes way back.

"Staff Sergeant Fitney was really short-tempered when he first joined. It was as if he had a lit fuse all the time. That was the reason he often got into brawls and was confined and caned as a result. He's one of the people the upper brass finds most troublesome. Only after three years of service did he get promoted as a corporal. But during the revolt in Gourneygada two years back, he beat down six of the revolters with his bare hands and saved Captain Kandya, who was in the city to resupply, earning him the promotion to sergeant.

"After his promotion, Fitney gradually stabilized and bettered his temperament under the care of Captain Kandya. He no longer deals with matters personally and has his brothers, Jem and the lot, deal with them while he operates from the shadows. The officers in the camp were all shocked at the change and thought that he had changed for the better, so they promoted him one more time last year to staff sergeant in time for the officer training course. When the course ends, he'll become a sergeant major."

After his report, he paused for a moment before continuing. "Boss, according to the senior soldiers who told me all that, Fitney definitely hasn't turned over a new leaf. Instead, he grew more sinister and secretive. Most of the hazing of new recruits and the threats were masterminded by Fitney from behind the scenes.

"Now that Jem and the rest were sent to the infirmary, Fitney lost a good deal of face. Many in the camp are secretly mocking him for not being able to protect his minions. That's why Fitney boasted about teaching you a lesson. There were many witnesses who heard him say that, so you better watch out. Don't let him ambush you."

Claude nodded with a smile to show that he would be careful. Given that Fitney was still part of the training program, the course while Claude was being trained as a new recruit, they wouldn't meet often as long as they didn't see each other at public places like the bath hall and mess hall. Not to mention, Fitney definitely wouldn't cause him any trouble before the end of his course unless he no longer wished to become sergeant major.

"Boss, should we take the first strike? We can track his movements and find a chance to ambush him. We can use lime powder to blind him, put a linen sack on his head and then rough him up with sticks together. We'll snap both his legs and let him be discharged as a cripple. We won't have to worry about payback ever again," Aboyev suggested.

Claude smiled and shook his head.

Berklin shot down Aboyev's plan immediately. "Don't be foolish. Do you think we're ruffians from the alleys of the royal capital? Where'd we get lime powder and linen sacks anyway? We're in a military base. Where would we find a place to ambush him? And Fitney's a aster pugilist, not the thugs we fought before. Ambushing it is just asking for trouble. We'll get beaten up and punished for it!"

"That's enough. All we need to do is to keep these in mind. Both of our sides are currently in training and there won't be any opportunities for him to come provoke us. We just have to be careful," Claude concluded.

The new recruit training progressed as usual. They got drilled in the basics in the first month, which mainly consisted of marching. Claude did wonder why there wasn't any military band to accompany the marching. They only marched according to the pace set by the instructor's brass whistle.

Claude recalled watching a movie about a war between the British and the French on the American continent during the imperialist era. They mainly relied on muskets too, but the soldiers in the movie used flintlocks instead of matchlocks. The British red coat troops marched line by line forwards with a military band playing upbeat music beside them. The song seemed to be a rather famous one as well.

He asked Second Lieutenant Most about it once about the absence of a military band, which would be arguably easier to listen to than the ear-piercing whistle. At least, it wouldn't tense up soldiers as badly.

That question came out of the blue for Most and he merely laughed and said that while there used to be military bands in the infancy of warfare, they were phased out due to their impracticality.

Claude didn't really understand what that meant.

So Most broke into a long lecture. First, training a military band was no small feet. Reading music sheets and playing musical instruments were rare and valuable talents in this world and sending them to the battlefield would be a waste.

Additionally, while band members were soldiers too, they didn't play a huge combat role on the field and weren't much of a threat to the enemies. How many bands would be required on a battlefield with tens of thousands of soldiers? Those numbers could be instead used to supply a whole clan of troops, which was often the difference between a battle won and lost. Military band members on the other hand didn't offer that tactical advantage in battle at all.

Given how loud guns fired on modern battlefields, it would be hard to hear the band music anyway. It would be better to use a sharp whistle that could be heard through all the chaos and also keep soldiers alert. That was why military bands were soon phased out completely.

Most importantly, in the war around a century ago, a winning nation managed to capture an enemy's military band. During the signing of the ceasefire treaty, the winning side had the very same band play to celebrate the occasion as a mocking slight to the losers. As a result, the losers returned and disbanded all their bands immediately.

Nobody would tolerate their own bands to cheer for the victory of the enemy after all. Not only was its cost high, it didn't afford any combat advantage and also made one vulnerable to enemy humiliation. So there was no reason for them to exist anymore. At least, that was the answer Most provided to Claude.

During the second month, the new recruits began to familiarize themselves with firearms. As a main standing army, Bluefeather's standard issue musket was the Aubass Mark 2 he was so familiar with.

"It's a shame that these are no longer the newest designs out there," Most said, "A friend of mine from the royal capital wrote that the Aubass Mark 3 is out. The national firearms institute's new gun shoots almost as far as the Aubass Mark 2, but the accuracy and aiming are greatly improved. It's said to be far easier to aim with and the achievement is nothing short of a breakthrough."

Most told that to Claude when he stood beside him. Claude just got number one out of all four hundred or so new recruits in both shooting accuracy, speed, and reloading speed. According to the other instructors, Claude's results could compare to even the best veterans'.

When the last month of new recruit training started, Claude found that the past two months were far too easy going compared to the third. That month, they mainly trained in marching, but the difference was that they had to carry their guns alongside and listen for the whistle order to load their guns on the spot and perform volley fire according to their orders to deal the widest range of damage.

Only one week into the training, there were two incidents of firearm malfunction and three misfiring incidents. Most was so mad that he got all the new recruits to stand out in the field under the son and chide them for a whole half hour. Fortunately, nobody died during those incidents. Only four new recruits got injured and had to be sent to the infirmary. Perunt diagnosed them and found that their condition was stable and would be able to recover in around three months' time.

Chapter 192 - Three Day Break

The three-month long new recruit training finally ended at the end of the 11th month. The 400 or so new recruits were given three days of break, during one of which they would be allowed to spend their time in Gourneygada. It soon came to be known that more than half of them applied to go there on the first day itself.

Claude didn't head down the hill and instead spent his time writing letters. He wasn't allowed to contact the outside world during his stay there and could only write to his family after the training ended. The letter, however, had to be inspected before being permitted to be sent out.

Claude wrote many letters, among them addressed to his mother, sister and Borkal. Welikro had joined the royal guard in the royal capital and by the time Claude left, he still wasn't aware of his friend's new address, so there was no need to write to him. He also wrote one to Kefnie. She was, after all, his girlfriend now. He had to make sure he wrote her a longer letter to show his care for her lest she get depressed about it.

He also wrote a letter to Maria to discuss his current situation, a letter to Mayor Felidos to thank him for the recommendation, as well as one to Rodan to show his concern for the company. The butler was running the show himself now and Claude would do well to show some concern.

He also wrote Tomas a letter to see whether he would stand a chance in the elections for the council member post in town. Tomas also happened to be his hand in the real estate company, so if Rodan wanted to hide anything from him, Tomas could tell him the truth of the matter.

He would also be writing to Borkal's father, the big merchant of Whitestag Rublier. Before he left, he bought a plot of land and built a four-storey building and let Rublier manage it and he wanted to know how it was going. It was going to be Angelina's dowry after all and he had to know about its status.

There would be nine letters at the minimum and that didn't include those addressed to the people he got to know after the company was formed, such as Viscount Wenisk, the one in charge of the construction site, Second Lieutenant Nuit, as well as the people who helped his family after his father passed away. Those people did show up to send him off at that time, much to his surprise, and those were connections he ought to keep.

It was too bad that there weren't postcards in this world. Otherwise, he could've just gotten a stack to send it to those people. Claude considered whether inventing postcards would be a source of good income for him but soon gave up on the thought. Postage was relatively expensive and most people in this world wouldn't be willing to pay that kind of sum for a simple line or two of text on postcards.

Not to mention, people only usually wrote letters for important of formal matters, such as things that were hard to put into speech, like borrowing money from a friend. Should the friend be unable to help out, the reply would also be penned and delivered. There was no need to speak face-to-face about the awkward matter.

That was the reason sending postcards could be seen as flippant, not to mention the fact that the contents of the cards would be exposed for all to see. It was as if they were revealing their private selves in broad daylight. The other point against that was the relatively primitive printing technology of the world. There were only available in black and white and there wasn't any method to produce colorful shades for postcards. That wouldn't attract collectors and there would only be a small market for it.

It would be better to stick to good old writing. Claude ceased his pointless ponderings and and continued writing. He only managed to finish around nine at night. Shaking his numbed hands and giving the letters a final, rough check, he stuffed them into the envelope provided by Bluefeather. I'll write the address tomorrow and hand them to the camp's post department tomorrow.

Unlike Claude, the four nobles didn't write any letters. When questioned, Moriad rolled his eyes and said that there was no point. The four of them were eyesores of their families anyway and were hurried away to join the camp in such a manner, so there wouldn't be a point to write them anything. Nobody would want to read their letters anyway.

"Boss, are we going to Gourneygada tomorrow?" asked Berklin.

Claude shook his head. "Let's go the day after. I'll treat you to a meal there and pay for all your expenses. I still have to check some of these letters tomorrow morning and have them delivered. I'm worried that it'll take quite some time and there wouldn't be a point in spending only half a day at Gourneygada."

"Alright. We'll go the day after then," Berklin said, slightly disappointed.

Dyavid chuckled. "You idiot, didn't you hear boss say he'll pay for our expenses? You can hail two maidservants in the tavern without worry of not having enough money now!"

As new recruits, they didn't receive any pay for the first three months, only some allowance of one riyas each month. While that was enough money for a good meal at a tavern, there wasn't any room for leisure. Berklin heard from the other soldiers that each maidservant in Gourneygada's tavern cost three riyas to spend a night with and Berklin was seriously considering whether he ought to have a good meal or spend a delightful night at the tavern.

Claude shook his head with an awkward smile at the sight of those four. He didn't think that his noble minions would actually be poor misers. While their families would give them allowance in the royal capital to save face, all that stopped after they've been sent to the camp. The excuse for that was reasonable as well. Since they were already adults and would receive pay from the camp, they could use their pay for themselves instead of helping out their households with the finances. That was supposedly a privilege afforded to them.

"Boss, do you really have enough money for that?" Berklin said with worry.

Humored, he said, "Don't worry. There's enough for you to have all the fun you want. Let's go to sleep now. I have to visit Doctor Perunt and the healer Bell tomorrow after handing in my letters. I wonder if they can go to the city with us cause I want to treat them to a meal too to thank them for their care."

The next day, Claude took his minions to the infirmary after sending his letters. Interestingly, one senior soldier who hurt his leg was there for a checkup and ran away after thanking him in a panic after Perunt told him that he was healed.

"Why's he in such a rush? Didn't his leg just recover? How can he still run so fast?" Claude wondered.

Perunt broke out in laughter. "Don't you remember? His injury is your handiwork! Poor Corporal Federson's calf was harshly stomped by you. Even though it didn't feel odd at first, he felt the searing pain after you fainted and collapsed groaning. He was diagnosed with a slight fracture after he was sent here so I gave him a cast. It took him three months to recover from that injury, so why do you think he ran at the sight of you?"

"Well..." Claude stroked his nose shyly. To be frank, he couldn't recognize the soldiers he had a brawl with and only remembered the round-faced guy who suffered the most and had both his wrists snapped.

"Did you come for something today?" Perunt asked.

"Well, we have a three day break, don't we? I want to ask whether you and Bell are free tomorrow. I want to treat you to a good meal at Gourneygada to thank you for your help."

"I see. I do have time tomorrow and would like to go to Gourneygada too. The books and newspapers I ordered have arrived. I'll have to pick them up from the bookstore. But I'll have to return during noon to check up on the other injured senior soldiers," said Perunt.

"If that's the case, let me treat you to lunch. You can come back after that. I'll ask Bell whether he's free."

"You won't have to. I will approve him to come along. He happens to know how to drive so I'll have him drive me. By the way, how many of  you will be coming along tomorrow?"

"Us five," Claude said after pointing at himself and the four nobles.

"Then come here tomorrow. I'll have Bell send us all there. There's just enough space and you won't have to hail a carriage downhill," Perunt said.

"Alright, we'll go to get our permits to leave the base now." He then bid the doctor goodbye.

The next morning, Claude and his four minions took the infirmary's carriage to Gourneygada. Perunt instructed Bell to circle around the city so that he could give them a short tour. He introduced the various shops and buildings to them.

After that, Perunt went to the bookstore and Claude also got some newspapers there which he would read back at camp.

At noon, Claude treated all of them to a feast at the largest tavern in Gourneygada, Kamais, spending three crowns in total. After that, Perunt left with Bell to head back to the infirmary and left Claude and the other four to their own devices.

"Boss, let's go to the tavern called Rose at the west side. I heard from the senior soldiers that the dancers and maidservants are the best there," Aboyev said impatiently.

"The maidservants at Kamais seemed rather fine too. Why didn't you look for one there?" They seemed to be having quite a good time with the maidservants during the meal that he thought they were going to stay there for the rest of the day.

"It's not that, boss. They charge too much. I asked around and found that those maidservants charge one thale a time and they only start after nine. They don't take guests in the afternoon. The seniors also have quite a high opinion of Rose, so I wanted to see if that is true," Berklin said.

Alright, Rose it is. Claude hailed two carriages and transported all five of them there.

He didn't blame the four for being so anxious. Based on their conversations, he knew that the four had already had their first experience in the royal capital when they were only sixteen or seventeen. They used to flaunt their noble status around and extort some money at the slums for good meals and maidservants to warm their beds back in the day.

In some sense, if their families didn't send them to join the military, they would've spent their lives like the descendants of the Eight Banners in Ming Dynasty China. They would only be noble on the surface but lesser than thugs on the inside.

After three months of training, the four were trained to look even leaner than skinned pigs being sent their way to the kitchen. Had it not been for the last month of arduous training that caused the four virile young men to fall asleep like logs the moment they touched their beds, Claude would've suspected that they've been training in some secret muscle-building technique in bed.

That was the reason Claude agreed to let them seek out maidservants in taverns. Men needed an outlet for their desires after all. He understood that from seeing how the military base in Whitestag included the brothel within its bounds. Women were ideal to keep men in check in that day and age and the soldiers counted on them for their physical and emotional needs.

"It's fine and all to look around for maidservants, but don't get into fights with others, alright? We're here to relax, not to find trouble. I'll pay for your expenses, but I won't be accompanying you guys, got it? I'm not interested in these women," Claude said.

Chapter 193 - Surprising Tentsman Pick

"Today was great, Chief. I had lots of fun. Too bad our training starts tomorrow. We could've spent the night at the tavern otherwise," Berklin said as he lay on the bunk next to Claude's.

The four nobles had had fun with all they had. They almost called two maidservants each and only went downstairs for dinner, clutching the handrails, legs shaking. Claude waited at the tavern's main hall the whole afternoon and flipped through the newspapers two or three times each. He now had a rough understanding of Freia's political situation.

He paid for the meal and dragged the four back to camp. They were still immersed in the afterglow of their relaxation, but Claude was thinking about the news he had read.

The eastern half of the continent was slowly falling apart. The kingdom wiped out the pirates in three months with its new fleet and secured the new trade route.

On the 25th of the 10th month, more than 150 ships formed up and headed to the colonies on Nubissia. It was three times the size of the one that travelled to Nubissia on the 'voyage of blood' as it was known back then.

As a result, the five anti-Auerasian nations' fleets had lost their worth. They could still lock Aueras' trade routes before, but now that was impossible. Not to mention that, while it could previously fund itself with the spoils it got from its victories at sea, it now had nothing but fishing. Three of the duchies didn't have any colonies on Nubissia and were already squabbling over the fleets' future.

If not for Nasri's investments to stabilise the alliance, the fleets might have been disbanded altogether. Only Nasri's fleet and the four other duchies' could rival Aueras'. They could do no such thing on dry land.

The Alliance had barged into the kingdom's waters more than ten times with excuses such as hunting pirates or losing their way. They even pretended to be pirates from time to time and sacked a couple towns. Aueras had issued a strong and strict warning that bordered on a declaration of war in response.

Claude wondered why the kingdom's enemies dared provoke it at sea. His question was answered by a newspaper article in an issue from the previous month. Shiks, a northern superpower, had a cooperative transport agreement with Nasri. Shiks would send a corps of 50 thousand soldiers to Nubissia with the Alliance's fleet.

Nasri's colony on Nubissia wasn't large, only about equal to one Aueran colony. And, much of it was covered by desolate wastelands. If war ever broke out, it would be conquered within a couple weeks. Hence why Nasri had a love-hate relationship with the place. If they wanted to benefit from its resources, they had to guard it with a substantial military garrison. But they only had two tribes of soldiers for the task.

On the other hand, Shiks' colony on Nubissia which neighbored Nasri's was large. It occupied lots of area on the continent, second to only Aueras. However, it was located deeply inland. The coastal areas nearby lacked good places for ports, so Shiks had never paid much regard to that colony. Initially, they went to Nubissia with the intent to mine and forgot to prioritise looking for a good coastal area to keep. It resulted in them having no choice but to route their ore through the colonies of other nations on Nubissia.

From those points, Claude could conclude that Nasri definitely had a secret military agreement with Shiks. Shiks would send a corps of troops to Nubissia and they would have to rely on Nasri's Port Vebator for logistics. The ports of their own colonies were of far lower standard than that of Port Vebator and weren't able to accommodate large, long-distance vessels which could only sail in deep waters.

Nasri's aid would threaten the seven colonies of Aueras. Even though those colonies had a combined force of around 100 thousand, their areas spanned too wide and they would lose in terms of numbers if they spread themselves thin to defend all territories. Not to mention, their troops in the colonies were only armed as much as troops on second or third lines of defense and were far from capable of handling the troops of Shiks, who were equipped for open-field battles.

Most worrying for the elite of Aueras was whether Nasri would just sell their colony to Shiks. To Nasri, the colony wasn't worth much with it having only one large silver mine within. Nearby was Moknad, also called the city of silver, and Port Vebator, which was deep enough to accommodate large ships. Apart from those, nothing else was worth mentioning. There wasn't enough land to raise good crop and they even relied on yearly food imports from the homeland of Nasri, or the occasional merchant vessel for sustenance.

If Shiks had bought the Nasrian colony, Aueras and Shiks' colonies would be connected together. Should war break out and if Shiks picked the side of the five nations, they were more than capable of attacking the seven colonies of Aueras even though there was no need to worry about the Freian front.

As a result, Aueras would have to deal with war on both the Freian front with the five nations and on Nubissia with Shiks. It was a tough choice between having enough troops or enough resources for the Aueran elite. The only way out was to launch the first strike before the enemies' forces were prepared and try to best one of their enemies during that time before preparing to face the others.

Claude couldn't tell how the situation would develop. The only conclusion he derived from the news was that war was inevitable and he would have to set foot on the battlefield sooner or later.

That realisation greatly spoiled his mood. He lay on his bed blankly with his hands behind his head. Aboyev seemed unable to fall asleep too. "Chief, what do you think our officer training will be like? It feels so annoying to have to start another training course even though we just finished our new recruit training. Can't we just work as normal soldiers here in the camp and get one day of break every ten days to head to the city?"

"What will we train in? How to manage new recruits well of course. Didn't you hear what Doctor Perunt said this morning? Bluefeather's recruitment drive has begun. It will be carried out in four phases and each batch would number around five to six thousand people. When our training is complete, the last batch of soldiers will have been recruited. We will be taught how to manage the new recruits like our instructors did to us. Do you think you can boss them around without proper training?"

"Well... It's just that I never imagined I would lead recruits..." Aboyev muttered, then, "Chief, does that mean we're going our separate ways? I wanted to stay with you..."

"Of course we'd have to," Berklin chimed, "It's not just the chief. We can't stick together either. We'll be chiefs in our own right for the next round of greenhorns. If we're lucky, we'll be assigned in the same tribe. If we're not... Well, even if that's the case, we won't remain in Bluefeather for more than a year or two. Maybe when you see me in the future, you'll have to call me Lord General..."

His words brought on in a bout of involuntary chuckling. Aboyev's embarrassment turned into anger. He tossed his pillow at Berklin.

"Buzz off... You think you can become a general? Dream on! There are enough people like you for the kingdom to form a whole corps!"

Claude shook his head. Ideals were fine, but reality was harsh. Under the foot of every general was a mountain of corpses. While the path on the battlefield might come with merit and glory, one couldn't pray hard enough to survive the harsh conditions, especially greenhorns like them who would be used as cannon fodder.

"By the way, Chief, I managed to learn something."

Berklin ended his squabble with Aboyev and handed his pillow back.

"What is it?"

"The vets' training just ended, right? I heard the top 50 will be assigned as our sergeant-majors. They're supposed to teach us how to lead men."

"And just where did you hear that?"

"I overheard Lieutenant Most saying that to someone."

"It should be true, then. We'll find out tomorrow. You should take their lessons to heart. We've only been in the army for three months now. If we don't go with the training properly, we'll be in trouble. If we can't handle our recruits, we'll be laughing stocks. Alright, enough talk for now. Get some sleep. We're getting up early tomorrow."

The rest of the night was completely quiet.

The next day, after breakfast, the horn sounded for an assembly. All the cadets were to gather in the field. As expected, 50 vets were waiting for them.

The course's main instructor was absent, replaced by Captain Mykes. He'd probably been transferred out. Claude saw Lieutenant Sidori stand behind him respectfully with a reserved smile instead of his usual cold expression.

Mykes looked a little sleep-deprived. He only spoke for a couple short minutes, then announced who got which vet.

Claude watched as vet after vet received their orders, then moved to their new stations. A couple minutes in, one particular newly promoted sergeant-major approached Claude.

"I told you, you're not escaping me..." the sergeant-major said, his cold white teeth glinting vindictively in the morning sunlight.

The man's insignia had changed from the three straight bars of a staff-sergeant, to the two waves of a sergeant-major.

Chapter 194 - Combat Training

Being stalked by a wolf, under the constant threat of attack, while being unable to retaliate, was horrible. Claude didn't get a moment's relaxation.

He stood now, watching the bastard sergeant-major yapping at some other poor sods. He bit down on his lips until he tasted blood, letting the pain and metal taste remind him to keep his guard up.

He'd been on edge for a month now. They had had just two days' respite in that time, and they'd been barred from leaving the base on those days. Claude had gone to the infirmary for that first day and chatted with Perunt. The slightly drunk man told him the peace wouldn't last for more than another six months. War was coming; faster than ever. Nothing of the sort had been spread down the grapevine; this was his own intuition.

As a result, even during the new year's celebrations, Claude had not had any appetite. Even the most delicious of food was tasteless to him. At first he'd had to fight with Fitney in the shadows, but now he also had the threat of war looming over him day and night.

The sergeant-major had been made one his tentsman. He'd showed nothing untoward in his behaviour. If anything, he had been the model sergeant-major thus far. He'd not broken character even when Claude had given in and asked him something on a couple occasions. His comrades had let their guard down eventually. They thought he had let go of his grudge, but Claude knew better.

He saw the man's hatred for him in his eyes when they met his, in that vile smile he always had on his face in those moments, and in the damned bleached teeth he was so eager to show the world all the time.

On the 2nd day of Year 577, the break ended and training resumed. Though heavy snow had fallen the previous night, they were told to clean the field and get started again.

The air was cold and their winter gear had long been issued. Each soldier had received woollen undershirts and long underpants. The uniforms were also changed from linen to fur. There was another black overcoat made from wool. It was still cold, but the soldiers could at least bear it now.

Last month's training was mostly marching and shooting in formation, but this time around, they would be given combat training. Even though they were in the age of firearms, close combat scenarios weren't that rare on the battlefield. Sometimes, a melee would decide life or death.

On the large field were thick straw mats lined up next to each other. Combat training was conducted according to tents. Each temporary tentsman would explain the ways close combat could be conducted on the battlefield and make sure their tent members learned them so that they would be able to stand a good chance against an enemy in close range. The staff sergeants themselves would be in charge of imparting the cadets with these techniques.

Fitney brought Claude and the rest to the side of one man and removed his black wool overcoat. He stood on the mat and started expounding on various takedown techniques and had a few cadets help him with the demonstration. He showed off a few moves and explained their rationale to them.

During the morning, Fitney guided them on the different fighting stances, how to throw faster punches and how to protect one's vitals. Everything was normal so far. In the afternoon, cadets would be faced off against one another on the mats and Fitney stood beside to comment on their inadequacies.

After one or so hours of training, Fitney gathered the whole group and told them that he would be asking a few of the cadets for a demonstration to show them how to obtain victory on the battlefield.

Claude watched Fitney attentively. He believed that the wolf was finally going to bare his fangs. What he didn't expect was that Fitney didn't ask him to be part of the demonstration. Instead, two other members of the tent were picked. He smiled and asked them to attack him.

The two were quickly rendered helpless. Fitney commented on their shortcomings and allowed them to back down.

"Looks like two aren't much of a threat," he said, "So let's have four next. I want to see whether you can make me sweat."

He picked Aboyev, Berklin, Moriad, and Dyavid. He said he did it because the four were friends and should be able to work together better, but Claude felt something was up.

"If you're surrounded by enemies, you must pick in which direction you want to break out, then charge with all your might, like this..."

Fitney charged as his last words left his mouth and sunk his fist into Moriad's stomach. The young man's mouth dropped open and he collapsed. Fitney brought his knee up and smashed the boy's face into a bloody pulp as he fell down.

Claude heard the sound of bone breaking as the knee connected and couldn't stop himself from wincing.

"When you're in this kind of situation, you must never hold back. The more you pulp the quicker, the better for you," Fitney's face cracked into that same vile smile he always had, "I now only have three enemies and I haven't taken a single hit. On top of that, I created a possible escape route should I need it."

Neither Berklin nor Dyavid knew how badly their friend was hurt. They were still processing the fact that he had been taken down.

Aboyev had caught a glimpse of the blood spewing from the boy's nose and mouth, however, and had a hint of what was happening and coming for them. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but Fitney was already on him.

"When we realise numbers isn't a big deal, the best thing to do is to be the first to attack, and to never stop."

Aboyev was sent flying by Fitney's ram. He spat out blood and tumbled through the air, unconscious already.

"Stop!" Claude shouted, charging.

"Don't wait for the enemy to figure out what you're doing, take them out while they're still in disarray," Fitney said, targeting Berklin and Dyavid.

"AAAH!" Berklin shouted as an elbow rammed into his cheek, sending two teeth flying amidst a spray of blood.

Dyavid had no chance to cry out. He was knocked out with a series of strikes to his head, then slammed into the ground with a suplex.

"Never hold back. Never show any mercy."

Fitney stood on the mat like there was nothing amiss and eyed the frightened tent members before he set his eyes on Claude.

"Don't worry about them, they look bad but I made sure not to break anything important. They just need a few days in the infirmary. You more than anyone should know how difficult it is to go up against more opponents, and how dangerous such a fight can be, for both sides."

Claude glared at him, his eyes spitting fire. He never thought Fitney would go after his minions. Come at him, sure, but they had nothing to do with what he'd done.

"Anything against my methods, Claude? I won't fault you for having misgivings," Fitney said with his poisoned smile.

Claude gave him one final glance, then acted like he didn't exist and headed for Aboyev.

"Help me take them to the infirmary," he told the rest of the tent.

"Hold it! Where do you think you're going? You will not leave until I say we're done."

Everyone suddenly realised who was the real target of this massacre, so they took a couple steps away from Claude and stood like statues.

"What do you want? You said it yourself, they need to go to the infirmary, so I'm taking them." Claude said as if speaking to an idiot.

"They won't die if they get there in half an hour. I'm not done with training. Let's have a duel. You're pretty good in the ring, yes? That's what I heard, at least."

"Not interested," Claude said as if turning down someone vile asking for a date.

He passed Fitney without looking at him and checked his friends' injuries.

"A spineless coward, ey?" Fitney laughed. "You don't look very happy. Come on, I'll help you work out your frustration. Besides, I want to see if you got number one in your secondary school by fluke or actual skill."

Claude didn't hear a word the man said.

"Fine, enough for today. I'll just keep sending those four to the infirmary until you agree to duel me," Fitney said gleefully.

Claude turned around and removed his coat.

"So all I have to do is send you to the infirmary for the whole month."

Chapter 195 - The Final Counterattack

Claude regretted his choice the moment he set foot in the ring. He shouldn't have fallen for the provocation. If the four recovered and were sent to the infirmary once more in the name of training, there was no way Fitney would've been able to explain his behaviour away in the first place.

However, Claude's raged still burned for Fitney had threatened him with the safety of those four nobles. In the previous demonstration, Fitney could excuse himself for going a little too harsh because of how hard it was to fight four against one. It also wouldn't be a far cry to say that he was trying to show the cadets how truly harsh battlefield conditions were to explain his behaviour away. However, he wouldn't be able to force Claude into dueling him unless Claude himself wanted to do so.

That was why he'd provoked him. Fitney was now a staff-sergeant, a commissioned officer of the army, so he wouldn't want to leave a dark spot on his career record, anyway. Even if he asked Claude to be part of his combat training demonstration, Claude had right to refuse. There was no way to force it on him.

Only if Claude challenged him directly could Fitney excuse himself by saying that he was trying to teach a disrespectful junior to respect a senior officer. Even if he severely injured Claude, he wouldn't be punished according to martial law. That was the reason he waited for more than a month and played the role of the tentsman properly and endured the urge to get payback against Claude. The month of combat training was already opportunity enough.

Claude knew he was no match for Fitney a few moves in. The latter was indeed a master pugilist. Claude was completely at a disadvantage and had suffered a few punches already. He was only able to protect his vitals throughout the fight.

Fitney's punches were swift and powerful. He also darted around like an ethereal phantom. Claude wasn't able to attack any part of his body at all. In his previous fights against Blacksnake thugs, he had used magic to aim for their vitals and mostly reserved fist fighting for ambushes. That was why he was sent to the infirmary after the brawl despite taking out the six senior soldiers with him.

Only after he was faced with a master pugilist did he understand how much his number one rank in school amounted to. Without using magic, he had no way to retaliate at all. Fitney looked like he was toying a frenzied monkey and was easily able to land punches on Claude's face, leaving a harsh mark behind.

Claude was already on his last legs. Even with both his hands in a tight guard in front of his face and protecting other vitals such as his chest, he wasn't able to prevent Fitney from slipping a punch through the cracks in his guard. Fortunately for him, however, his vitals were still firmly guarded.

Fitney was already a blur that moved incessantly quick. He almost couldn't be properly perceived. However, Claude grit his teeth and refused to yield. He struggled to maintain his cool and waited for a chance to launch a counterattack. Fitney on the other hand was greatly enjoying the session. So long as Claude didn't give up, he could rough him up.

"Even after pushing the enemy to a disadvantage, we must not grow careless on the battlefield and give them any opportunities to strike back." Fitney was still in the mood to continue his lecture. He was feeling on the top of his world.

He moved forward, ducked left, and hooked right, striking his fist harshly on Claude's right arm and causing him to stagger backwards with both his arms open and exposing his chest. However, Fitney took two steps back and didn't advance, choosing to forego the chance to land a critical hit.

"You must be wondering why I didn't strike his solar plexus, right?" Fitney explained with a smile, "That might be a chance to deal a heavy blow, or it could also be a trap. We must be able to tell the difference between them on the battlefield. If we have lots of enemies around us, taking a few risks here and there is acceptable. Your odds of survival will only increase if you can take out one more enemy. But in our current case..."

Fitney pointed at the dazed Claude. "The enemy is already in such a state. So now that I have absolute advantage, I am prioritising my own safety and trying to exterminate the enemy without suffering any damage. As long as there's a risk, I won't take it. Just now, he had his hands down and exposed his chest. It was indeed a chance for a fatal blow, but you must also be aware that if the enemy is still capable of resisting, you might end up getting grappled by both his hands. That might give him a chance to turn the tables on you. Many people on the battlefield think that they have the absolute advantage only to end up having the rug pulled from under them and falling. What a joke..."

Apart from the other four bloodied nobles and the staggering Claude, there were seven other tentmates receiving the lecture. They clearly knew about the enmity between Claude and Fitney because the big-mouthed Moriad ran his mouth over it more than once. They didn't think that Fitney would choose this day to get back at them, however.

Even though they were rather sympathetic to Claude and the other four, they were more relieved that they weren't part of it. Fitney really did choose a wonderful opportunity for revenge. He was able to hurt Claude and the others and escape all consequences and punishment. Even as he was giving Claude the beating of his life, he didn't forget to advise the others on what to do while fighting on the battlefield.

Fitney kicked at Claude's lower abdomen and caused him to slump down while clutching his waist. Then, he gave Claude a harsh kick on the back. Claude seemed to crash into the ground unconscious like that.

Fitney approached Claude in a relaxed manner and kicked his body. He then turned to the others. "On the battlefield, that doesn't mean that you've won. Freak accidents often happen and even a soldier can be completely overwhelmed by an enemy on the ground because they forgot that the enemy hasn't completely lost the ability to retaliate.

"What you have to do is to focus on the enemy's limbs." Fitney stepped on Claude's left hand and went down hard. A soft pop of a break could be heard. "There are many weapons on the battlefield you can use to cripple your enemy. Any enemy with their limbs intact might take the chance to give all they got to take you down together with them when they awaken. So, you must be careful of corpses on the battlefield. One of them might be an unconscious, but living, enemy who will be looking for a partner together on the voyage to the war god's kingdom in the afterlife..."

Fitney moved his leg away from Claude's left hand and approached his legs. He put his boot on Claude's left calf. "This happened to a veteran of Bluefeather some twenty years ago. Back then, he was part of a war and the army managed to emerge victorious. He was left to clean the battlefield up and he didn't notice an enemy barely clinging to life amidst a pile of corpses. His mind was full of checking the enemy's pockets for money, only to end up being stabbed in the chest when he wasn't paying attention by the enemy with a broken-off bayonet. That was how that veteran became the last one to perish on that battlefield.

"The moral of the story is: the only good enemy is a dead one. On the battlefield, if you aren't able to check whether an enemy is truly dead, don't approach the corpse no matter what. Or, you can do what I'm doing now. First, inspect whether there's a weapon beside the enemy. Then, check their limbs. The best way to do that is to stomp on every limb of theirs to see whether they react."

Fitney pressed his leg down hard. He was going to cripple Claude's limbs and have him lie in the infirmary for two to three months and let him feel the pain his brothers felt.

The pain of having his calf pressed down on snapped Claude awake. He opened his eyes and only saw Fitney with his leg on his calf while he spoke to the other tentmates.

He didn't even think and raised his leg with all he had and sunk it into Fitney's crotch. After that, his eyes rolled and he fainted blissfully.

By the time he reawakaned, he was in an infirmary bed. The bandaged and bruising face of Berklin was before his eyes, wearing a beaming smile at the sight of his awakening. It took Claude quite a while to recognise who that face belonged to under all that bandage.

He felt that a metal plate weighing a few hundred catties was pressed on his chest. His body hurt rather badly and his voice was hoarse. He could barely speak. His head also felt really groggy. The sight of anything made him feel like passing out. His left hand was in a cast and his left leg felt really heavy and pulsed with pain.

Berklin was so excited he couldn't even speak properly. He pulled on the bell rope beside the bed onstop and caused quite a cacophony.

Soon, the door was opened and Perunt entered. "What's up? He's awake? Then all is well. You've been out for two days and nights. If you didn't reawaken, even I wouldn't be able to save you."

I was actually out for that long? He was still rather disoriented and no longer remembered why he was knocked out in the first place. He only vaguely remembered his last kick and seemed to recall hearing some nuts crack and an ear-piercing shriek.

"You got hurt far worse than the last time. You got a concussion, heavy internal injuries, a broken left palm, fractures on your left calf and three broken ribs on your right. Your swelling face and arms are the only external injuries you suffered. You'll have to take at least two to three months to recover this time around," Perunt reported as he busied himself with a concoction.

When he was done, he got to Claude's bedside and put the bottle to his mouth. "Drink this and go to sleep. I'll have you fed porridge at night. Do you know that I've been feeding you two of my most precious grandwood potions over the past two days? It's pained me greatly to do so, you know. I only have three bottles of that and I fed you two when you were knocked out. If you didn't wake up today, I would've had to use my third too..."

Grandwood potion was actually a concoction made from the ginseng of this world. Naturally, it wasn't actually called ginseng. It was seen as wood essence. The highest grade grandwood potions could even completely revitalise someone. Though Claude knew that the quality of Perunt's grandwood potions couldn't possibly be that good, he was still thankful that the good doctor used it to treat him.

Seeing Claude drink the disgusting concoction he made, he shook his head and clicked his tongue. "That Fitney really went all out this time. If your injuries were worse, you would've been crippled. Fortunately, he isn't faring much better either. If you could switch places, I believe even you wouldn't be willing to suffer that kick of yours. Poor guy... He never imagined that he would now become a laughing stock of the whole of Bluefeather..."

Just as Claude was about to ask Perunt about Fitney, the urge to sleep assailed him and he shut his eyes powerlessly and drifted into the darkness.

Chapter 196 - Causing Trouble

In a large wooden building in Fokby Base, a colonel bearing a shoulder mark with three silver crescent moons banged on the table.

"Have your heads been kicked by a donkey or something? Even though you knew they held grudges against each other, you allowed Fitney to be assigned into Claude's tent just because he asked? Are you trying to give us trouble? How do you think we should report this to the upper brass now that such a big commotion has been caused, huh?!"

The one being scolded was none other than First Lieutenant Sidori. He was the one who allowed Fitney to be Claude's tentsman. Little did he think that things would turn out that way to the point that the whole corps knew about it.

"Sir, I... even I didn't think it'd turn out this way... I... I just thought that this Claude can't b-b-be taught or reprimanded conventionally... He is too hard to control and even sent six senior soldiers to the infirmary on his first day in camp... N-normal seniors won't be able to manage him, t-that's why I planned to have Fitney assigned to the task t-to teach him a lesson s-so that he doesn't act high and mighty in the base," Sidori explained with a pale look.

"What kind of inquisitor are you?! Don't you even read the file?!" The angered colonel flung his cup to Sidori, completely wetting his uniform.

He thumped on the table and continued, "Claude is a candidate recommended by Viscount Felidos! He was our corps' former general, our senior with amazing military merits! The first ever recommendation he gave us was Claude because he thought he was a talent to be moulded and developed! Not only that, Second Lieutenant Most also has high regards for Claude! Among the 400 or so cadets, only seventeen got distinction and Claude was ranked first!

"As for the brawl in the mess hall, everyone knows that the senior soldiers did the provocation first. That's how they ended up in the infirmary. Our corps has decided on punishing them with thirty canes each and that doesn't mean that Claude is hard to control. After the recent training incident, our investigations revealed that all Claude's tentmates have a high opinion of him and see him as a comrade worth trusting.

"First Lieutenant Sidori, I don't know why you're so prejudiced against Claude for you to completely ignore his stellar performance during his past few months of training here. As an inquisitor, you should judge each and every soldier fairly, not cause them trouble intentionally. I believe you ought to resign. You are not fit for this position. I will think about your transfer after I get further instruction from the corps."

"Understood, Colonel Montauk. Your will is my command," replied Sidori.

"You may leave." Montauk couldn't be bothered to show Sidori any courtesy.

"Understood." Sidori tried his best to puff out his chest and saluted before he turned and left. However, his stiff footsteps exposed his inner panic.

Within the building was another row of officers who stood like wooden mannequins. Claude would recognise Captain Mykes, Second Lieutenant Most and Second Lieutenant Chirp among them. They didn't move a single inch when the colonel was raging out just now and tried their best to melt into the background, lest they divert the colonel's anger upon themselves.

Montauk sat back down in his chair tiresomely. He picked up two letters on the table and looked at the seals on them and shook his head. "Our former general really brought us quite a lot of trouble! I really didn't know why he bothered to recommend Baroness Maria's disciple into our corps... Since he's an apprentice herbalist, can't he wait until he gets his beginner herbalist certification before enlisting him? Right now, even sergeant-majors have to go on the battlefield... I wonder how our former general will make up to the baroness if Claude perishes on the battlefield..."

There was another stack of envelopes on the table addressed to the same person: Claude Ferd. The two letters Montauk picked out were addressed to him as well. Those two letters were laced with golden floral patterns that signified the noble status of the sender. The return address of the letter was the Normanley estate. It wasn't hard to determine the sender.

Had it not been for those two letters by Maria, the training incident wouldn't have shaken the whole corps. Montauk wouldn't have dealt with it like it was an emergency either.

"Colonel, when Claude enlisted, his file didn't state that he was a disciple of Baroness Maria. We weren't aware of that fact," Chirp added.

"It's precisely because of that that we're in such dire straits," Montauk said with an exasperated sigh, "If nothing happened, we could've pretended not to know anything about it after the training ends. Whether he lives or dies on the battlefield will be up to his own luck and not have anything to do with us. But now that such an incident has occurred during training, it has become our responsibility. That cursed Sidori must've nothing in that empty skull of his... His actions have put us in a tight spot!"

At the sight of the expressions of wonder of the officers in the room, Montauk smiled and stood up. "You all should be aware that war will break out in half a year at most. It's incredibly possible that our kingdom will declare war against the five-nation alliance during the 6th month. We will have to mount an attack on the Kingdom of Nasri and the Duchy of Sidins. The first wave of attacks will be conducted by the corps Bluefeather, Reddragon and Griffon. The problem is that we haven't decided on whether we would be attacking both places concurrently or focusing our forces on one first while defending from the other.

"If we choose the former, then Bluefeather will have to deploy alone or along with one other corps. There's also the question of who will be vanguard. If we're assigned to be vanguard, there's no way we will be left for defence. Our general is currently discussing with the ministry of the army in hopes that we will be deployed as a sole unit, or at least be teamed up with another corps during the attack. There is no way we will be relegated to aid another corps or stay back for defence. Word is that Reddragon and Griffon have also visited the ministry of the army. Do you get my drift with this?"

Everyone nodded. The high officers' eyes were gleaming. If they were lucky, glory and merit would be theirs. No officer would hate war. That was one way they could get promoted quickly. Given that Bluefeather had only been involved in a few small skirmishes or revolts during the past two decades, they hadn't had an opportunity to take part in battle. With the war encroaching upon them, nobody would squander the chance to advance their careers with merit.

They also knew well what the general went to the royal capital for. The two nations neighbouring Aueras, Nasri and Sidins, had long readied their defensive fortifications at the border. They were like crabs sporting hard and tough shells. Only after prying the shell open could the delicious meat within be reached.

If Bluefeather couldn't be made the vanguard, they would definitely be sent to attack the defensive fortifications. While it wasn't an unaccomplishable task for them, they would definitely pay a huge price in casualties. The worst case would be if they actually managed to crack open the crab's shell only to have to retreat and let the other corps enjoy the spoils.

"But Colonel Montauk, what does that have to do with Claude's incident?" Mykes asked.

"It has everything to do with it. His herbalism teacher is Baroness Maria and she practically His Majesty's sister. She can freely enter the royal court and is just like family to the queen and the princes. Her words hold real weight for His Majesty. If Claude manages to finish training and emerges a master sergeant, then there would be no issue at all. He would have to distinguish himself on the battlefield if he wants any merits and even if he perishes there, Baroness Maria would have nothing to say about it.

"However, he's been injured twice ever since he enlisted. We can avoid taking responsibility for the first incident because it was so abrupt and couldn't have been prevented. He lashed out because of the senior soldiers' provocation and both sides ended up in the infirmary. We punished them all without exception by solitary confinement after their injuries recovered. This is still excusable so far.

"But now, Sidori has ruined everything. He intentionally assigned that Fitney to be Claude's tentsman and gave him an opportunity for revenge. And now, Claude would have to rest in bed for at least two or three months before recovering. What do you think Baroness Maria would feel if she found out about this?

"Wouldn't she think that we're intentionally causing trouble for her disciple? That's especially the case after he was once more sent to the infirmary because of somebody's payback after he has distinguished himself so well during training. Our corps will definitely be held responsible for this..."

"I heard that Baroness Maria had never liked to interfere with military affairs and nor help others with their favours. Many people tried to go through her to get a good word in to the king, only to be all refused," Mykes said.

Montauk sighed. "It's for that reason alone that we can't afford to offend her. We don't wish for her to speak on Bluefeather's behalf. All we want is for her to not ruin our plans. Think about it. If she finds that her disciple Claude got hurt because of petty revenge during training, all she has to do is to badmouth our corps in front of His Majesty and we'll definitely not be assigned to be vanguard. We might even be ordered to stay back for defence.

"That's the reason I was so mad at First Lieutenant Sidori just now. He had always been proud of his noble birth and had always looked down on peasant soldiers. Doctor Perunt told me that Claude refused to let Sidori admonish him and even talked back to him after the incident. Sidori has held that grudge ever since then and assigned Fitney to be Claude's tentsman as a result and led to our dilemma today.

"In the letter Claude wrote to the baroness, he didn't bring up the brawl and only mentioned that he finished new recruit training and would begin officer training soon. The rest of the letters was nothing but pleasantries. What we didn't expect was that she would write two replies. In the first, she said that she would be taking Claude's 15-year-old sister, Angelina, as her disciple and opined that she was more talented than Claude. She even wanted to bring Angelina to the royal capital with her for proper care and training. However, the girl refused the offer on the reason that she had to take care of her mother and younger brother.

"The contents of the second letter was even more shocking. According to our investigation, Claude helped Baroness Maria form a real estate development company in Whitestag and took charge of the construction agreement of the naval base with Viscount Wenisk. Their company took over the whole development of the base and he made Baroness Maria a fortune as a result. That's why she values him so much. She even discussed the future development of the company with him in the second letter.

"If Claude tells the baroness about how he got injured due to someone seeking payback, I believe that she would stand up for him. If our general finds out that his plans have been ruined because of this and Bluefeather would be relegated to defensive duties or play a helping role for another corps, I have no doubt that he'll swallow First Lieutenant Sidori alive without any seasoning. So, gentlemen, let's think of how we should deal with this incident to placate Claude, shall we?"

Chapter 197 - Settlement

"Colonel, how is Claude doing now?" asked a fat-faced captain. He was Fitney's supporter, Captain Kantaya of the logistics unit.

He played a part in Sidori's assignment of Fitney to Claude's tent, but he didn't think the consequences would be that far reaching. He was already cursing Fitney and Sidori to the deepest parts of hell in his mind. What the hell was it about making an example of him? Can't you guys see that you stepped on the tail of the lion? How can you be so blind to not notice someone with a background like him?

"After the incident, Claude was unconscious for two days and only regained consciousness on the third. Doctor Perunt said that he was rather badly injured. Fitney had been extra harsh and if he were injured even further, he would end up crippled even if he managed to be saved. However, he has a rather good constitution and his recovery has proceeded rather smoothly after his awakening. Doctor Perunt estimates that it will take him some three months before a full recovery. I paid him a visit last night, and he was bandaged up like a mummy. At least, his mind is still doing well."

Colonel Montauk seemed to grow angrier as he spoke. he glared harshly at Kantaya and said, "Even if Claude doesn't have Baroness Maria behind his back, it still is a huge scandal for a cadet in our corps to be injured so badly by his own tentsman!

"Do you think this can pass off as accidental injuries from a training exercise? It's unquestionably a fight between nemeses! Fitney was almost ready to go for the kill! After two decades of peace, have you guys lost your discipline? Aren't you afraid that you'll be shot behind your backs by your own men by letting the soldiers bully the cadets?!"

The colonel felt thirsty mid way and tried to look for his cup, only to remember that he had flung it at Sidori. Captain Kantaya on the other hand was keen enough to notice. "Please wait, Colonel. I'll get you another cup of tea."

He turned and hurriedly left the room.

A first lieutenant in the room asked, "Colonel, how is Fitney doing now?"

"How? He's become a joke in the whole corps. He was kicked in the nuts by Claude just as he was educating the cadets on how they should prevent an enemy's death struggle! What a perfect example he made for the class! His shriek shook the whole camp!" A mocking smile surfaced on the colonel's face. "Last night at the infirmary, Doctor Perunt told me that he just finished surgery on Fitney during noon and cut off his man parts.

"It couldn't be helped. Those things were practically rendered into meat paste by Claude. His nuts were crumbled and swelling like bread fresh out of an oven. He wasn't able to piss for days and Perunt had no choice but to stick a reed tube down his urethra to siphon the pus and urine out. It hurt Fitney so bad that he begged someone to kill him. The doctor had no choice but to knock him out with numbing toxin and remove his thing that was growing to be a threat to his life.

The colonel's description might have been too graphic to the point that the officers felt a breeze down in their crotch and unconsciously tightened their legs.

Montauk didn't notice the change in their posture, however. "Doctor Perunt told me that after the amputation, if you will, Fitney's life is no longer in any danger. But he would no longer be able to piss standing in the future. He believes the best choice is for him to be discharged and sent home lest he continues to be laughed at in the camp. Losing his thing might also cause the destabilisation of his psyche. Given how strong he is in fights, he might become an unstable element in the corps.

"I think it's best to have him discharged and sent home. Is he still a man without his member? Even if he's good at brawling, we're in the age of firearms, not the old days when we fought with blades and spears. His fighting prowess won't boost our unit's efficacy by much anyway. Instead, he would merely serve as the butt of the jokes of the other soldiers if he stays.

"Doctor Perunt's assessment is mostly correct. Letting Fitney stay in the camp would only give him chances to seek revenge against Claude. He would be a source of constant unrest in the camp. We can discharge him on the charge of injuring someone during training and send him home that way. I believe we can use that to placate Claude."

Being discharged and sent home in that era wasn't a good thing. Usually, people were only discharged due to suffering from injuries. The volley fire mode of war made it so that all nations cared a lot about the combat capability of each and every unit. Healthy and complete soldiers wouldn't be discharged before their service term ended. Anyone who became a soldier and tried to get themselves fired to avoid the fate of becoming cannon fodder on the battlefield could only do so in their dreams. It simply wasn't possible.

In Fitney's case, being sent home after his amputation could be considered being discharged due to disability. He had lost not only the symbol of his manhood, he also lost all six years of time and effort he spent in the military. He would only be a peasant for the rest of his life and could never ascend to become a dignitarian. Given that he was already a sergeant-major, he was just one step short of becoming second lieutenant. Being discharged at that point was nothing short of cruel.

"I believe First Lieutenant Hockham speaks sense. Fitney already lost his thing, so he's no longer a real man. We can discharge him on account of his disability and tell Claude about it to get on his good side. After he recovers, we will let him fill Fitney's shoes as sergeant-major. I'm certain he'll be satisfied with this arrangement," said Mykes.

He quickly showed his support for Hockham's suggestion. He believed that he was involved solely by association through no fault of his own. Even though he was working fine in the main camp, he was sent to become the chief instructor of the training course at the base. It wasn't that bad initially, since he would only have to serve three months as chief instructor before he could go back to the main camp and be promoted to commander of his own unit. If he were lucky, he might even become a tribesman or a right-hand of a tribe. After gaining a little more merit, he would be able to earn a single silver crescent on his shoulder mark to replace the three green stars.

Who would've thought that such a fiasco would occur at Fokby Hill... The darned Sidori actually did that behind my back and pit two nemeses together... He really didn't consider my standing at all and ended up causing such a ruckus... That cadet, Claude, has connections that high up and now I'm involved in this... Just you wait, Sidori...

Bluefeather was one of the four main corps of Aueras and no matter how much influence Maria had on Stellin X, the corps wouldn't grovel and kneel to her disciple to placate him. Soldiers had their pride, after all. They were only concerned with how they should solve the issue and let it die down and convince Claude not to complain to Maria about the matter.

It was all too easy to undo years of hard work after all. It was a crucial time when Bluefeather was trying to secure an attacking role in the upcoming war. Nobody wished for word of that incident to reach Maria's ears, resulting in the ruining of the corps' plans.

So making sure Claude was happy was the most important thing. Mykes agreed with Hockham that they ought to try to find a quick solution to the matter. Discharging the emasculated Fitney wasn't a big deal. With him out of the picture, Claude would no longer have to worry about retaliation. The bonus of replacing Fitney as sergeant-major would most likely shut him up. Even if Maria did find out about it later, she wouldn't be able to fault Bluefeather for dealing with the matter inappropriately.

"B-but Claude is currently injured and still needs months to recover. He can no longer participate in the training. Would it be alright to give him the rank of sergeant-major? If he can't get his unit in order, his tent will be useless in battle and unable to coordinate with other tents in battle. Colonel Montauk already mentioned that war will break out within half a year at the latest. Wouldn't that cause lots of trouble on the battlefield?"

While they were mostly unanimous in their opinion to discharge Fitney, there were some doubts about giving Claude the rank of sergeant-major. One could only be considered a cadet after three months of recruit training. Strictly speaking, they were mere privates, not even corporals. Promoting Claude to sergeant-major and tentsman of his own unit was too obvious an attempt at placating him. What kind of soldier would be willing to serve an unfit tentsman like that? There was also the question whether his unit would obey his orders and work with other units on the battlefield.

"It'll be fine," Mykes said, "We don't need Claude to command combat units. During every recruitment drive, we'll always have some conscripts that have a string or two loose in their heads that aren't fit to be fighting soldiers. Even though they are able-bodied, they are slow-witted or mentally challenged in some way. Usually, we pick them out and toss them to the logistics units to work away and leave them to their own devices.

"We just have to pick some more normal ones from those folk for Claude's unit. We will definitely need to form additional stretcher units or keepers when we deploy on the battlefield from our ranks, anyway. We might as well do it earlier and let Claude take charge. That way, he can rightfully bear the sergeant-major rank and won't affect our combat ability. It's also shows that we did our best to care for Baroness Maria's precious disciple."

Captain Kantaya entered and respectfully served the colonel a cup of fragrant red tea. Kantaya made it from his personal stash of red tea, and Montauk was quite appreciative of that fact. As a logistics officer, Kantaya paid extra care to his superior officers and served them well.

Montauk took a sip of the tea before nodding at Mykes. "Your suggestion sounds good. I'll leave the matter to you. You must also indirectly hint Claude to come to the understanding that we only came to this arrangement on account of him being the disciple of Baroness Maria.

"However, you forgot to mention two crucial points. First, Claude's four noble friends were also sent to the infirmary by Fitney. According to the witnesses, Claude only fell for Fitney's provocation because that fool threatened the safety of his friends.

"Based on what we know, those nobles were more or less exiled into our forces to take part in the course. They don't have high standing in their households and can be said to be relegated to the sidelines. They were sent here for a chance at a better future, and we have many nobles in our army that are in a similar situation.

"However, they were only injured because they were involved with Claude. Doctor Perunt believes that it'll take them a month or two to recover, so they will also miss out on officer training. Since Claude is going to be sergeant-major for a non-combat unit on the battlefield, we shall let those four help him out. I believe Claude will be thankful to hear that.

"Also, don't forget to investigate which soldiers have a good relationship with Fitney. Make sure they are transferred to some other tribe. I don't want to hear any more payback incidents like this in the future."

"Understood, Colonel."

Chapter 198 - Worry and Puzzlement

A week had passed since Claude had woken up again and he looked a fair bit better. At the very least, he could now raise his head on his own and look around. He'd fought back the ability to use his right hand some as well, though at this point it was just to twitch his fingers around occasionally. The rest of his body was still cast in iron. He looked exactly like a mummy. Perunt said such injuries took at least a hundred days to heal, if they did at all, and he should stay in bed until they did.

He had found out about Fitney from Berklin, who was hurt the least among his four minions. He had been punched on the right cheek, lost two teeth, and fractured his cheekbone. He was hurt so bad he had rolled on the ground and screamed in pain, but the rest of his body was mostly untouched. He was not recognisable, however. The half of his face that had taken the brunt of the blow had swollen up like the limbs of someone suffering from elephantiasis. His eye couldn't be seen at all, nevermind opened. He couldn't chew at all, either, so his only option was to drink thin soup and runny porridge.

Aboyev's body was still in shock from the internal injuries he'd suffered, so he still drifted in and out of consciousness with disconcerting frequency. Moriad had suffered a little less than Aboyev, but more than Berklin. He'd broken one rib and cracked at least another three. His nose had been pulped as well. He was wearing a cast on his nose to keep it in place while the bone and cartilage regrew, but everyone expected him to have a crooked nose for the rest of his life.

Dyavid had suffered the worst. He'd been the bastard Fitney's punching bag. That final suplex had shattered several vertebrae and he would likely be stuck in bed for half a year, and would need extensive rehabilitation if he was ever to walk again. Perunt was of the opinion that Fitney had been trying to kill or cripple the five of them; he certainly hadn't cared about trying to keep plausible deniability in that regard. There was no way this could be explained away as simple negligence.

Fitney's injury was far worse than all of theirs combined, however, if someone survived all those injuries put together, that is. He'd become Bluefeather's resident butt. The rumour that most resembled the truth was that Claude's kick had snapped his member off and it couldn't be reconnected properly, so it was promptly removed. The most ridiculous exaggeration said Claude's kick had the power to change Fitney's gender entirely.

When Bell was there to help him with pissing, he told him he could hear Fitney's agonized shriek even from the infirmary. It sounded too chilling and left a mark on anyone that heard it. He admitted to suffering from nightmares after hearing it. Perunt said that something must've happened in the camp and they ought to prepare for treatment, only to see Fitney and Claude sent their way later.

"I was the one who cut open Sergeant-major Fitney's pants," Bell said.

He said the injury didn't look that urgent to him initially. It was a meaty mess, but the rough shape of the organs could still be seen. He didn't think that it would swell so much two days later though. Bell widened his hands to the rough size of a basketball and said that it was black and shiny. The veins on them were engorged and spread out across the swollen meatball and it truly was a disgusting spectacle.

The poor Fitney wasn't able to excrete or defecate for two days due to the pain. He begged Bell for a dagger to kill himself with. The pain was unbearable for him and he couldn't eat, sleep or even shut his eyes. In the end, Perunt administered numbing toxin on Fitney and used a reed tube to help him with excretion.

Bell described the urine mixed with pus as blood and vividly as he could. "I thought he'd go better after letting it out once or twice, but it swelled again on the next day. The excrete siphoned out again was the same pus-and-blood infused urine.

"So the doctor said his sausage had to amputated."

Bell told Claude about it as he would any other kind of gossip. Claude was the cause of all that, after all. However, he himself felt a chill when he heard it. He actually impaired Fitney's member and family jewels in his dazed effort to launch a counterattack. That was the most humiliating thing a man could suffer. It was obvious that Fitney would definitely bother him to no end by the time he recovered. If Claude had suffered the same fate, he was certain that he'd stop at nothing for revenge.

Claude pretended like he didn't care and asked Bell how he was doing.

"How can he be doing? He's bedridden, of course."

Bell didn't think too much about it and told Claude that after Fitney regained consciousness and was made aware of the loss of his member, he remained on his bed without saying a word like he died inside. He let Bell do whatever he had to without contest, much to the relief of Perunt, who was worried that his struggling would cause complications with the treatment.

Perunt said that Fitney had to rest for at least 20 days before the incision would close up proper. It was the first time he performed such a surgery, so the incision was a little larger than it should've been. Fitney also had to be fitted with a urinating tube to prevent inflammation and infection from the piled up urine. He would remain stranded on his bed for the time being and Perunt was worried that any movement would cause the incision to start bleeding again.

Stranded on the bed? Claude felt a hint of joy at the sound of those words. It was the opportune time to rid himself of that trouble once and for all. It wouldn't be easy to kill Fitney after he recovered proper, after all. Claude now knew about his capabilities and didn't wish to get hurt again. The thought about having to watch out against Fitney for the rest of his days steeled his resolve to kill Fitney.

But he was similarly wrapped up like a mummy and couldn't leave his bed. He was helpless to get rid of this threat at this time. Fitney would only need a month or so to recover, according to Perunt, while Claude would need two to three, almost double as much time.

Since that was the case, he gave up on the notion to deal with Fitney himself. He was now worried that Fitney would come for payback when he was sill bedridden. He would be nothing more than a sitting duck and be at his mercy...

Having no other choice, he could only count on Berklin, who only hurt his face and was still lively as ever. He got acquainted with Bell lately and followed him around the wooden buildings of the infirmary, so he should be aware which one Fitney was recovering in.

But he didn't have a way to convince Berklin to act, and he wasn't certain whether Berklin would attract suspicion even if he did the deed. They were within the infirmary and Perunt had full control over the place. As long as Fitney didn't die from natural causes, the truth could easily be discovered.

Claude wouldn't be willing to sacrifice Berklin's life and future in the military for the sake of acting first against Fitney.

He found it hard to fall asleep with those thoughts. He had his eyes wide open and stared at the wooden ceiling. Berklin, who was currently housed in the same building, noticed it and came to his bedside to ask what was going on.

"I wonder if I've been too harsh with Fitney," Claude said, not that he could be blamed for it.

He only reacted out of instinct and Fitney was trying to break his left calf while giving the other tentmates a lecture. He was the one who left himself completely defenseless against Claude's crippling counterattack.

"He deserved it!" Berklin spat.

Though he couldn't be happier to hear about the sergeant-major's emasculation, that wasn't enough to quench the flames of anger burning in his heart.

The reason he loitered around the infirmary during the past few days was to find a chance to give Fitney a few more wallops to make him suffer more. He wouldn't allow anyone to get off scot free after hurting him and his friends. The four of them did the same when they were loitering about in the slums of the east side of the royal capital. The other thugs knew about their noble backgrounds and how they always retaliated whenever they were messed with, so they didn't dare to go harsh on them. That was why the four of them had an easy time lingering there before they were sent to the camp by their families.

"Then did you manage to find where Fitney is residing?"

Claude's heart skipped a beat. It was a happy coincidence. He didn't think Berklin shared the same intent, even though it was for a different reason. While Berklin wasn't keen on hurting Fitney, he at least wanted to see him suffer during his treatment.

"It's pointless. I found it, but I wasn't able to enter," Berklin said crestfallenly, "The enforcers have taken over guard here. They stand guard outside the wooden hut he is recovering in. Apart from Doctor Perunt and a healer called Bach, nobody else is allowed to enter, not even Bell."

"Didn't you try the windows or climbing in from the back of the hut?" Claude asked.

"That was the first thing I thought of, but it won't fly. In front of the hut is an outpost and behind it is the dorm of an enforcer tent. There are always people there and there's no way anyone can climb in without being noticed. Do you know where the hut is? It's far from ours, all the way to the end where the doctor and the other healers' quarters are. It's even surrounded by a metal fence."

Claude gave up on the notion completely. There was no way to deal with Fitney under such circumstances. Putting aside getting others to do the dirty work for him, even he wouldn't be able to infiltrate the wooden hut when he was in perfect shape. He found it weird why Fitney's hut would be so heavily guarded. Did something warrant the corps to be so careful about it?

"By the way, Chief, a colonel came to visit you yesterday. You happened to fall asleep after having some medicine."

"A colonel? I don't know any... How did you know his rank?"

"His shoulder mark, of course. My grandfather used to be a colonel and we still have his shoulder mark in the family. There are three silver crescents on the mark. Someone bearing the same markings came to visit. I was so shocked that I couldn't even speak. The colonel appeared really cordial and he came in with Perunt, greeted me and asked the doctor about your condition by your bedside. He even bid me goodbye when he left. I don't even remember how I answered him..."

The colonel should've been sent to assess the incident. According to Bell, the matter was spread far and wide and the whole of Bluefeather knew about it. It had huge repercussions and the whole corps started to strictly enforce discipline and prevent soldiers from bullying cadets. That was especially important, given that the recruitment drive was underway and new recruits were joining camp every month.

Though, Claude still wondered why a colonel of all people would busy himself over a training incident like that. Wouldn't a major be sufficient? It seemed rather serious to him and he wondered whether he would be punished with more solitary confinement after he recovered.

Chapter 199 - Wonderful News

Claude was still unaware that the 'blessings of the royals' Maria had was affecting the corps' commanders. He was still afraid of further retaliation by Fitney. If the man entered his quarters while he was still awake, he risked being discovered by offing him with a spell. He wasn't Fitney's match in a fight, but at least he could still move his right hand and cast Magic Missile, so there was no worry there.

Ideally, Fitney would come to him believing he had the upper hand and start out with a monologue. It would give Claude the time to cast Magus' Hands and the situation would be far better. Fitney wouldn't even know what hit him, and Claude would be able to manipulate the scene to make it seem like Fitney slipped and fell and ultimately snapped his own neck. As long as Bluefeather didn't get the Watch to investigate the matter, he would be able to hide his identity as a rogue magus.

Claude was most worried he would instead come for him in his sleep. He believed the man would cut off his member as payback. He hadn't popped his cherry yet, so he had no desire to die just yet.

He couldn't cast spells when he was in great pain or doing strenuous exercise, so if his torturer had already gotten started when he woke up, he would not be able to do anything.

Mental Shock wasn't that effective on humans. It was more suitable for use against dumb animals. Perhaps it would strengthen in power when Claude reached the stage of a five-ring magus, but so far, it wouldn't be of much use. He could use Magic Missile while moving, but he was practically a mummy currently and whether he could move or not wasn't even in the equation.

Magic Missile's greatest weakness was that its power was more or less equal to that of a matchlock. While he was confident in being able to incapacitate Fitney, he wouldn't be able to explain the gunshot wound on him. As long as he used that spell, he would be found out as a magus.

But that deliberation was pointless if Fitney simply came into the room and knifed him first. The searing pain would forbid him from channelling the mana in his mental void and that meant only death for Claude, a rather painful one at that.

His worries made him lose a lot of sleep. His eyes were always glued to the door and window, watching for any signs of an intruder. Though he understood Fitney was as bedridden as he, if not more so, but that did nothing for his mammalian paranoia.

Frustrated, he had no choice but to meditate. At the very least his injuries didn't keep him from meditating. He also realised the essence photons in the air, such as water, light, and wood, were a great help to his recovery.

He absorbed fire essence into his first hexagram and converted it into mana. For his second, he absorbed light. The progress was only half as fast as the first, so even after the passing of a year, he was still a long way from becoming a two-ring rune magus. Ever since he joined the camp, he hadn't been able to meditate daily like before. Only during the late nights when he was certain everyone was asleep did he dare go for a session.

Now that he was lying in the wooden hut alone with Berklin, he didn't have that worry. Given his sleeplessness, he could meditate up to four or five times a day. In his gathering of light, he realized that, unlike before, when the light uncollected by him would disappear, the ones he didn't collect now flowed into his body. It was a rather mystical experience and his injuries felt a cool sensation during that process.

Perhaps it was just his imagination, he thought. But after one week, Perunt made a surprising comment.

"Eh, Claude, your constitution really is far better than most others'. You recover much faster than other people, from fractures included. I think you don't need two to three months as I estimated before. I believe you'll be able to move about after another month or so."

It seemed that it wasn't his imagination after all. He suddenly recalled the webnovel tropes about how water, wood, and light elements had restorative properties. So there was some truth to fiction after all. He had found himself in this world and learned magic, but he didn't have anyone to guide him apart from Landes' diary and notebooks.

While Maria knew some magic, her knowledge was only restricted to what was available in the 'modern' age. She also only knew harmless spells unlike Claude, and had lost interest in magic, choosing instead to focus her attention on herbalism. Becoming an intermediate-grade herbalist was her proudest achievement and she was still planning to get her high-grade certification before she reached the age of sixty. But that would cost her lots of wealth and even more time for herbalism experiments.

Had Claude not meditated in his injured state, he wouldn't have realised the benefits of light essence photons for his recovery. While each session did only so much, they eventually added up to quite a lot. With that newfound discovery, Claude meditated with a newfound ardour.

Another week passed in a flash and Perunt confirmed that Claude's fractures around his waist had recovered. So, he was finally allowed to sit up. However, he heard a piece of bad news from Bell, that is, Fitney was able to get out of bed and move about. While strenuous activity was still beyond him, taking a few slow steps was still possible.

A sense of urgency filled Claude. Even though Bell said that Perunt was of the opinion that Fitney still needed another month or so for a full recovery, Claude felt as if the Sword of Damocles itself was being suspended above his head. He began to meditate even more ravenously, desperate to recover faster than Fitney.

The other question on his mind was how the corps seemed to be unconcerned about his injuries despite the month he spent recovering from them. Nobody came to him to ask about what happened that day, nor did anyone inform him about how the corps planned to punish him. It was as if he was forgotten. The only instance of such an inquiry, if it could be called that, was when the colonel came to ask about his injuries one night when he was asleep.

But on the third day Claude was able to sit up, the chief instructor, Captain Mykes, and the cadet trainer, Lieutenant Most, came to visit him. They brought word of how the training incident was settled.

Was he dreaming? Claude wondered. He slapped himself, then groaned in pain, though a stupid smile hung on his face.

What was going on? He couldn't figure it out no matter how hard he tried. He had ended Fitney's family, but not only was he going to get off without punishment, Fitney was also was going to be discharged and sent home. Even though the man deserved what was coming to him, it was still good news to Claude since he would no longer have to fear retaliation. Yet, that wasn't all. He would also be taking over Fitney's position as a sergeant-major.

Did a golden goose fall from the sky? Claude looked upwards subconsciously and saw the same dark, wooden ceiling. Why was the upper brass giving Claude and his four friends so many benefits? Was there another reason behind their actions?

Claude looked at the puffy-faced Berklin, who was overflowing with joy. All he had to do to become master-sergeant was to get hurt once. He didn't even have to finish training. Most importantly, he got to stick with Claude. However, he understood why Claude was giving him that look. "Our families definitely didn't pull any strings. The four of us are practically exiles. We are here to forge a future for ourselves. Our families wouldn't even merit such treatment from Bluefeather in the first place. Being able to send us here was the most our families could do."

The next day, Perunt dispelled his doubts when he came to mix medicines for Claude. "Did you forget what Captain Mykes said before he left? He said that you had two letters addressed to you from Normanley Manor and some others from Whitestag. They're at the collection point and you can retrieve them when you're feeling better. You can also write a reply when you're still recovering and tell your family and friends about the good news of you being promoted to sergeant-major."

During training, soldiers weren't allowed to write to anyone. Even after becoming a formal soldier and member of the corps, they could only send and receive one letter each month. That was to lessen the workload of the letter inspectors as letters sent and received all had to be checked to prevent the soldiers from leaking confidential military secrets, intentional or otherwise.

It was said that the practice originated from a coup centuries ago during the reign of Stellin IV. The military officials were plotting to send troops into the royal capital through private letters. Naturally, the coup failed and was wrapped up, but letter checking became mandatory ever since.

"But what does that have to do with the corps?" Claude was still not in the know.

Perunt chuckled.

"When you told me you learned herbalism from one Lady Maria, an intermediate-grade herbalist in the royal capital, I thought she was just that. A famous doctor. But you didn't tell me that she was also a baroness and the trusted sworn sister of our king."

"Ah, I forgot. I only see her as my herbalism teacher. I've never thought about using her name for my own designs..."

"When I heard how this incident was going to be settled, I knew something was up. It was a little too good for you. So I asked around and found that a peasant like you actually had that kind of backing. Even the noble families of those four combined can't compare to your teacher, Baroness Maria," Perunt exclaimed.

"But she never gave me the impression that she had so much influence. She only appeared to be a noblewoman with great passion in herbalism to me. I don't understand why Bluefeather would treat me so well on account of her either."

"I'm not sure why that's the case too. But I did hear that our general is up to something at the royal capital, seemingly vying over something the other corps also want. Perhaps they reached this kind of settlement in hopes that word of your suffering due to the training incident wouldn't reach the baroness' ears and cause her to thwart what the general was planning to stand up for you. I heard her words hold real weight to the king.

"By the way, Fitney has left this morning and he was sent to Gourneygada. He will be staying at the infirmary at the main base for half a month before being discharged and given his passport and sent on his way home when he recovers fully."

Chapter 200 - Letters

After finding out Maria was the cause of his good treatment, Claude was rather perplexed. This wasn't a favour easily returned. The land and shares in Normanley Real Estate were all repayments for the spells he'd given her, and the coverage of his brother's debt was her thanks for all the profit he helped her make with the real-estate. If he'd been of no use, she would not have looked after him so well.

She'd since taken an interest in him for his business acumen, however, and was now working actively to tie him to her one way or another. Felidos had interfered, however, and ruined her plans.

Claude had distanced himself from his previous civilian life the moment he set foot on the base. There were some things one couldn't avoid discussing, but he'd never mentioned his benefactor's true identity. He had no intention to tie the leash to his collar himself, so to speak.

He respected his mistress deeply, but he had his pride. He had no intention of being someone else's servant for his whole life. He had far greater ambitions, ambitions that did not include become a sworn, life-long Normanley servant.

For that same reason, he'd been deeply troubled, despite his simultaneous gratitude, by his mistress' decision to try and get him a conscription exemption. It would immediately indebt him to her for life.

Though he was angry at Felidos for doing much the same where his future in the military was concerned, he was not unhappy at being rid of the difficult matter of navigating a refusal to Maria's kindness.

Now, however, despite having no such intention, and despite Maria being oblivious to it, Claude had indeed benefitted from her yet again, and thus incurred yet another debt. Her messages had revealed her true identity, and it had pushed his superiors into gentler treatment.

Claude sighed. Now he had yet another debt to pay off. A bitter smile clung to his lips. He had thought he would be put in solitary confined for five days at least, but now not only was he not going to suffer any punishment, his nemesis had been taken care of for him. On top of that, he was to be given a cushy position well behind the front lines as a medical officer with a keeper and stretcher unit.

Almost everyone who knew him envied him. Bell even said that if getting hurt and having to recover for three months would make him a sergeant-major, he would happily receive a beating. As a normal soldier, Bell wasn't aware of the truth behind the matter. He thought that the corps was just trying to use this chance to enforce stricter discipline to prevent further hazing of cadets and recruits and that Claude had lucked out in his experience.

Now that Claude could sit up, he asked Bell to go to the post office of the base to retrieve his letters for him. He wrote nine letters and received fourteen in response. Apart from the two Maria sent, his mother and sister each sent two. Another one of them was from Welikro, who informed Claude of his new address in the royal capital. Kefnie's brother-in-law, Jerad of the Shark gang, also wrote to him, much to his puzzlement.

He opened Maria's letter first. According to the dates, the first was written when she went to Normanley Wood during her vacation in response to the letter Claude had written her. She informed Claude of two matters in that letter. The first was how his mother had taken over as supervisor of the wood after his departure, and the second was her discovery of Angelina's talent and her becoming her disciple. She even snidely remarked that Angelina's talent in herbalism was far better than her half-assed elder brother's.

She said it was a shame the girl refused to go with her to the capital. Claude's mother was still sickly, and his sister refused to abandon her. At least she still had a couple more years, being a 15-year-old middle-schooler, before she'd have to decide finally about her future regarding Claude's mistress, so the baroness had decided to leave off pressuring her for the time being.

Though Claude had no intention of becoming the baroness' sworn servant, was happy to see his sister getting closer to his mistress. If she combined such a firm backing with the assets and wealth her older brother had procured her, she would never have to worry about anything again for the rest of her life. Even if he died, or was otherwise taken out of the picture, she and her little brother and mother would be fine.

He opened her second letter. This one dealt primarily with official matters. He was informed about the completion of the base and the completion of the transaction with the navy. Maria was glad to inform him that more than half of the profit, after deducting costs, were split to the shareholders, and that she had transferred Claude's share to his mother.

The profit was not as much as Claude thought it should have been. Some of the real estate developers he'd seen in his past life started out with nothing but a loan from a bank and ended up with more than ten times the profit. It was only after his country started regulating the industry that the market returned to its proper path. Despite that, a good profit of around 130 percent could still be made through property development.

Even though there wasn't any precedent of gentrification in this world, why was the profit only half as much as he estimated? Maria wouldn't hide that matter from him. It was possible that the cost of the construction inflated ever since his departure. The project was worth 300 thousand crowns in actuality, but only 280 thousand was paid because of a discount. Claude had estimated the profit to be around 160 to 170 thousand crowns, and that was the reason he gave away 100 thousand crowns to the shareholders out of the initial 200 thousand they received to bolster their confidence in the project.

When work just began, many were still doubtful of borrowing loans from the bank to buy land, which would be mortgaged again for even more loans. Only after the loans ballooned to around 60 thousand crowns did Claude finish purchasing the land in the western part of the slums. By that time, the company only had ten thousand or so crowns remaining.

If they didn't do any renovation and only resold the land to the navy, the profit would only be around 40 thousand crowns. Claude pushed for actual development because he wanted even more profits. By purchasing a piece of land at the price of around 30 crowns, they could erect a couple of buildings there that could accommodate up to a household of five people for the fair price of around 50 crowns. That alone was supposed to be enough to make ten times the profit of their initial capital.

Granted, that was only an oversimplification of the costs. The company couldn't just purchase land to build houses upon. They had to develop other high-class infrastructure like streets, parks, fountains and street lamps. It was those things that attracted the navy to the notion of letting their family members reside there.

Most of the extra cost probably came from the additional amenities and decreased the profit by at least 30 thousand crowns. At least, that was what Claude believed. However, it couldn't be helped. Rodan had always been insistent on maintaining a good image as it was exemplary behaviour for nobles. Had Claude still been there managing things, he would only do what he had to, instead of what he could. The deal with the navy was already struck anyway and there was no need to spend extra money on unnecessary fluff.

As expected, Maria brought up in her letter about her inspection of the site when it was near completion. She requested Rodan to decorate the environment even more lavishly and Viscount Wenisk suggested that they construct another small plaza with a commemorative plaque that credited Maria for her investment and development in that area. She gleefully agreed to that suggestion and gave Rodan the green light for that undertaking.

The poor Maria was probably feeling a little too loose on spending now that she had made so much money. All Wenisk had to do was to flap his lips for the company to spend so much more money and effort. She probably didn't know that her little joy trip cost them to lose tens of thousands of crowns in profit.

Regardless, that wasn't something he wanted to dabble with. It didn't matter that the earnings were lower than expected. It wouldn't make sense to squabble over the little difference. Maria did ask him whether she should purchase some property in Port Neru, given their falling prices, and give them the Whitestag treatment.

Perhaps she was aware that the letters would be inspected by the military, she intentionally phrased her words vaguely. That didn't stop Claude from picking up on the meaning behind them, though. In asking Claude whether they could repeat the Whitestag treatment at Port Neru, Claude could surmise a few things.

The kingdom developed Whitestag into a naval city and split Fearless into two, leaving one flotilla behind to guard the kingdom's eastern coast and moving two-thirds of its forces to Lake Balinga to be formed into a new fleet called Storm to secure the new trade route from Whitestag to Nubissia.

The split of Fearless caused many to lose confidence in Port Neru. They believed that the trade centre for Nubissian goods would move from Port Neru to Whitestag, so many merchants were leaving that place and causing property prices to fall. Maria had insider knowledge from her position in court, however. The splitting of Fearless was a temporary measure. The kingdom would soon replenish their numbers and Port Neru would grow lively once more.

Yet, Claude didn't have high hopes for Port Neru. The war with the anti-Aueran faction was going to start anytime soon. If the kingdom emerged victorious, it stood to reason that they could conquer a few more ports along the eastern coast. That meant that even if Fearless was to be replenished, they might not necessarily continue to operate around Port Neru, which would make it nothing more than a trading port. It would no longer be as prosperous as it was when it was the sole naval port of the kingdom.

Chapter 201 - New Recruits

"Chief, I really can't take it anymore... They didn't send me soldier material at all! I can't teach them anything no matter how hard I try! It's been a whole week and they still can't get in a straight line! I haven't even started teaching them to turn left or right! Every time I shout the order, at least two or three of them will bump into each other..." Berklin said after he barged into the hut, removed his army cap and smashed it against the ground.

Yet another month had passed. Claude could move about some now, but Perunt had forbidden him strenuous exercise. His recovery had gone much faster than the man had predicted, or even thought possible. He had thought Claude would be in bed for at least another month. He envied the boy's constitution.

Claude didn't mention the incident to Maria. He focused instead on how well his training had gone, that he would soon be a sergeant-major, and his posting.

Since all his letters were inspected, his superiors knew exactly what he'd written -- and they were quite happy. On the day the training ended itself, the still-bedridden Claude received the shoulder mark of a sergeant-major. That meant that he had officially become an officer in Bluefeather. His four minions were also promoted.

With their training at an end, the tents were taken down. The other seven master-sergeant tentmates sent Claude and his minions their personal belongings which they had left behind. Each was now going his own direction, to their new posts.

Since Claude had been ordered to form a keeper and a stretcher tent required for the infirmary, he claimed two of the wooden huts near the infirmary. Perunt was quite happy to have Claude and his people close by, and gave him the job of assembling a new healer tent for him as well.

When Perunt gave him the list of his new men, Claude felt like quitting. He'd gotten all the bad apples. Each tribe usually had a tent of healers. But in wartime, the demand skyrocketed. In peacetime, each tribe had to have a minimum of one apothecary and six healers. But Perunt was the only apothecary for that infirmary and he only had four healers to help him out.

"I can't be bothered to bargain with the upper brass. While I can still hold on with the number of people I have, I will be overwhelmed when it gets busy. I have been able to take care of the cases in the base, for now, so I didn't bother to ask for more men," Perunt said with a shrug, "Now that you can already move about, you have more than enough time. Write a few reports to the upper brass and pull some strings for me. I need more apothecaries and healers here, sharp and capable ones, mind you. Don't get me any of those slackers who don't even keep their hands and feet clean."

Perunt's request was rather hard to fulfil. Where would healers that could match up to his specifications be found? There would be war in a few more months and not a single tribesman would be willing to give away their own apothecaries and healers. Claude had written a few reports but received no response. In the end, he wrote a report in the name of Perunt to request for more apothecaries and healers from whom he could pick. Only then did the report go through.

Claude gave the stamped report to Perunt and had him pick the men he wanted. As for his own keeper tent and stretcher tent, he had no right to pick recruits and had to wait for the top to assign them to him.

Each tent had twelve men and two tents made 24. Claude had himself and the four nobles in his unit, so he believed that the top would send 19 recruits to him to fill up the ranks. What he didn't think was that they would assign him 27 people. He thought he was seeing things and asked a corporal who brought over the recruits what was up, but the corporal only said that he was doing what the top wanted and knew nothing else.

Having no other choice, he had Berklin look for Second Lieutenant Chirp of the enlistment department. Berklin returned and told Claude that everything was fine and those recruits would be given to Claude to manage and train for now. If there were any that were unfit, they could be disqualified later.

He guessed they should gather everyone. Claude had the fully-recovered Berklin go to the logistics department to get him some tents and other supplies. He planned to set them up at the piece of land behind the infirmary. That was the place they used to dry herbs and bandages and it was wide enough to train some recruits.

After that, Claude read the files of the recruits and found that those 27 didn't just join the camp. They were already there for a month or so and were disqualified during cadet training. The instructors believed them to be unfit for duty in Bluefeather, but since they were able-bodied, they were sent to the logistics department for hard labour.

So they saw it as a landfill... Words like 'retarded', 'slow', 'inept' and even 'idiot' were used to describe those recruits. Claude now knew what kind of role he was given. It was no wonder the upper brass was so generous in the number of people they gave. Chirp even said that it would be fine to disqualify some, so he definitely knew what was going on.

Claude isolated two of the 27 files that stood out to him. One of the files described the recruit as being lazy, confrontational when forced into doing something, slow-reacting and slow-witted. He got Berklin to bring the recruit to him.

Soon, a huge brute towering over two meters was brought to him. Good lord! He ought to be 2.3 metres tall! Even taller than the basketball players Claude had seen on Earth! Claude had to look up to see the fellow.

"So you're called Gleimyte Opus, aged 21?"

"I don't know," the brute wheezed, "The people back in the city called me Gum or brute. This was the name the soldiers wrote for me when I enlisted. I can't read and I don't know what they wrote."

"Alright, then. I'll call you Gum too. Why did you come to enlist? Did you receive a conscription letter?"

The big fellow scratched his head. "What's a conscription order? I don't know... Sir Bejik in the city told me that if I join the army, I would be able to eat my fill. That's why I applied. I didn't think he would lie to me. When I went to get food, they didn't let me and said that everyone only had a set amount and that I couldn't eat more... So I got more food from others and beat up anyone who didn't give me theirs."

"You joined the army just for food? What about your home? What did you use to be?"

"Home? I don't have one. I lift stuff for people in the city in exchange for some bed and sleep in the stables of taverns and feed their horses. I'm always hungry... I never have enough food. So when they said I could eat my fill, I came here..."

Claude looked at his training records and saw a few instances of solitary confinement which stemmed from his robbing of other people's food in the mess hall. After confinement, he grew even more savage with the food robbing. He always moved slowly during training and wasn't willing to join the rest. Even after disciplining, he wasn't willing to cooperate and he was subsequently disqualified.

However, the comments about him being lazy and responding slowly was odd. He managed to reply to Claude coherently. Claude pointed at the file and asked, "To what are these comments about you being slow and lazy and refusing to move referring?"

"They didn't let me eat until I was full, so I didn't want to train with them. That would just make me hungrier faster. When I didn't have work in the city, I always lied down without moving so that I don't get hungry fast," said the brute.

Claude finally understood. "Alright, from now on, you will always be able to eat till you're full. But you must listen to my orders, or you won't be fed. You may leave now."

"Really? Can I really do that? What if they don't let me eat?" The brute gave Claude a look of elation mixed with some suspicion.

"You can, it's fine. I will pay for your food no matter how much you eat. Don't worry." How much could the food in the mess hall cost anyway? Sometimes, he believed that it didn't cost a single riyas to feed a tent of soldiers. It wasn't like the big man could eat that much anyway. At worst, he could just pay for the extra expense with his sergeant-major allowance. It wasn't like he was poor.

After one was dealt with, the other was a piece of cake to deal with. That new recruit wasn't even an adult. He was a 16-year-old wandering orphan. As the enlistment quota of the zone he resided in hadn't been met, he was dragged into it. Nobody stood up for his sake and he was sent to the base just like that. He flopped during training and had loitered in the base ever since before he was sent to Claude.

As he wasn't even an adult and hadn't had enough nutrition he required, his puberty still wasn't over. He was even shorter than a gun and it wasn't surprising that he didn't make the cut. He supposed the kid could do as his errand boy. After calling the youth called Myjack over for a talk, he found him to be rather honest and decided to give him the role of orderman.

During the night, Berklin took the recruits to dinner. When he returned, he looked at Claude with a frown and said, "Chief, your salary's gone. That big fellow called Gum ate enough for eight people alone and said that he was only seven parts full... I don't know where all the food disappeared to. He's a literal rice bucket.[1]"

As Claude still hadn't recovered his full range of motion, he could only count on Berklin for the training. After a week or so, Berklin turned from excited instructor to a sullen teacher who complained nonstop every day.

In his words, he described the recruits as apart from appearing normal while eating and sleeping, they all turned into idiots during training. He believed that training a bunch of pigs would be easier than training those fellows. Pigs could at least know which direction to run in.

Claude, however, was rather calm. "No worries. I'll observe them in the following days. I have an inkling on how to train them. Bear with it for a few more days. I will soon be able to move about again and I'll teach you how to whip them into shape."

[1] Rice bucket in Chinese means idiot or useless. It refers to how such a person is useless for any other purpose than storing (eating) food, and it also alludes to Gum's slow wit.

Chapter 202 - Kink-necks

It was a bright, sunny day. A rare day for Freia. Winter had just passed and the arrival of spring filled the land with vigor. Four months of rainy season was to follow, so the people made sure they had dried out whatever they needed. They would enjoy some semblance of drought in their homes instead of musty dampness during the endless rain.

As Claude occupied the plot of land behind the infirmary as his training ground, Perunt had no choice but to have the healers dry the blankets and laundry out on the field. Currently, the soldiers' clothes were being hung under the sun and the healers spent a lot of time before finding a good spot at which to hang out theirs.

Claude could already move as he pleased. He was watching Berklin train the new recruits. Aboyev, Moriad, and Dyavid were still in the initial stages of recovery and were seated in a corner of the yard while sunbathing and mocking Berklin mercilessly for not being able to get the new recruits in shape.

Only nine out of the 27 recruits were up to Claude's standards at the moment. The other 18 had all sorts of problems. Seven among them were even slower than the rest. The 'slow-witted' in their reports wasn't an exaggeration at all. When Berklin gave the order to stand straight, they reacted even slower than the rest. It was as if they only understood what they were required to do after seeing everyone else do it. No matter how hard they tried, it was something they were unable to change.

It wasn't that surprising, however. Claude had had a classmate on Earth who didn't understand what the teacher was saying even though all the other students did. He could never figure out what others understood so easily. Other people only took an hour to work on homework, but he had to work on it for three or four hours. While he could still barely keep up in terms of language, he was the worst in math because he didn't understand how it worked, no matter how hard he tried. His family had taken him to countless doctors but all they could say was that his cognitive development was behind. They suggested he remain at home for a year or two before continuing with caught up faculties, but he refused.

He just barely scraped through elementary school, but finally lost it completely in the first year of middle school and dropped out. Claude did not see or hear from him again for several years, not until he saw him again on television one day. The boy had taken an apprenticeship with a renowned sculptor after dropping out and had become one of the world's top sculptors himself since.

While there was at least some hope for all those already mentioned, the final eleven was beyond all hope. Two of them had such bad problems with attention and doing basic things that even Claude, who had absolutely no training in psychology, could tell they must have one or more psychological disorder. The same went for one who could physically not stand still, and yet another who had constant panic attacks. The last one was particularly annoying. Whenever Berklin shouted and order the poor sod would collapse in a catatonic state for several minutes.

How they'd gotten this far was already a mystery. They shouldn't have passed even the most basic of screening. Then again, Claude supposed they'd probably just been accepted because they were physically fit enough and someone hadn't wanted the hassle of chiding the local officials for sending nitwits instead of capable men.

Claude called a halt to the training called Berklin over. He skimmed his notes again, then turned to Berklin.

"Train these nine the usual way. Send the eight slow ones to Moriad. I'll take Myjack as my errand boy. And the last ten are beyond training. Put them on stretcher duty."

Moriad wasn't very happy with his new wards.

"They're so slow, Chief. How am I supposed to whip them into shape?"

"You're well-enough recovered to start doing your bit, so no excuses. The eight I'm giving you are slow, yes, but they can still be trained. You just have to be more patient with them. Their reflexes are fine, so there won't be any problems once you have them up to snuff."

"I don't see the point, though. They still won't be proper soldiers even if I do get them up to standard."

Claude smiled and patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry about that. You won't get them to respond as quickly as the others no matter what you do. That's not as big a problem as you think, however. We're training them to be keepers, not frontline soldiers. They'll be patrolling friendly bases and towns, not frontline trenches. It's not like they're not trying. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're working twice or even three times as hard as the rest. Give them a chance, Moriad. If nothing else, they deserve at least that."

"Fine," Moriad caved.

"Good. I'll tell you what to do later. Just follow my instructions."

The better part of the work had thus been done. The rest was just drillwork until everyone was good enough. Claude's one main remaining responsibility now was to decide with what weapons his men would train and work.

None of his men were good enough to use muskets, so he had to find them something else. He considered for a time giving them muskets with his modified sights so they could work like light infantry, sharpshooters if you would. They wouldn't have to worry as much about drill work and coordination in that case.

He'd have to get approval from his tribesman, however. Someone was bound to notice the strange addition to his men's weapons at some point, so he couldn't just do it in secret, and it was illegal to modify a military musket privately.

He headed to the tribe's headquarters, where a musket on Lieutenant Most's table caught his eye. Something about it was very familiar to him. It took him a moment to remember that he'd modified the same model musket before.

In fact, he'd received a letter from Welikro a month earlier begging him for forgiveness for letting his modified musket fall into the national firearms institute's hands. It had been confiscated at some point and they were investigating the modifications.

The youth had said it was all his father, Kubrik's fault. He had used the musket to show off to his old comrade and won in a match of accuracy. It had drawn the man's attention, who passed news of the modifications on to the institute. They'd immediately confiscated the weapon.

Welikro only learned what had happened after finishing his training. Claude didn't mind, however. Though he couldn't be as indifferent now that he saw the very same modification on an institute issued musket. He wasn't too keen on taking credit for the design, however, but he was proud of it, so he couldn't resist asking a few questions when he saw his superior staring at the musket unhappily.

"This is..." he asked as he picked up the musket.

"The Aubass Mark 3. The institute's latest design. I hear they've worked particularly hard on this one. We have 500 of them at the moment. We've been given a hundred of them since we're the strongest," Most explained.

"Then why do you look so glum?"

Claude wasn't too happy to have his design stolen, whether he particularly wanted the credit for it or not, but what had been done, had been done. At the very least the new design should make them more combat effective.

"I handed out some of the muskets to the men, but they've sent them back. Even 4th Tribe's refused to use them."

"Why? Something wrong with them?"

He couldn't quite understand what could be the problem. It wasn't that hard to learn to use the new sights, no harder than it was to learn to use the old design. In fact, he'd argue it was easier, even his little sister had picked it up quite easily.

"The muskets are fine, they just don't look good. They call them 'kink-necks' because they have to tilt their heads to one side all the time to aim, and it's giving them kinks in their necks. They've been declared unfit for use in formation since no one can aim properly with them."

Claude wanted to curse the fools and laugh at them at the same time. He couldn't believe they were still trying to use the old tactics with his musket. They clearly didn't understand the principle of building one's doctrine around the soldier and his weapons. Instead they were demanding their weapons be designed around their doctrine.

The proper way to use these muskets were as the weapons of sharpshooters and skirmishers; units that could make the most effective use of the range and accuracy these new muskets had. They should completely do away with the idea of formation-based combat as well.

Claude's eyes lit up as he finally noticed the opportunity he'd been given. He decided that since he couldn't take credit for his design, he could at least take credit for being the one to develop the proper doctrine for their use. At the very least, this meant he didn't have to spend money modifying the now-old Aubass Mark 2s.

"If no one wants them, why don't you give them to me, Sir?" Claude asked.

"You? What do you want with them?" Most asked suspiciously.

"I have a bunch of greenhorns, don't I? They do need weapons as well."

"That's not what I mean... Are you sure you can trust them with muskets? Sticks ought to be safer."

"It will be fine, Sir. I've picked out a couple that can be trained properly with some surplus effort. The rest won't get anywhere near weapons."

Most stroked his chin for several long seconds, then nodded.

"Alright. Send me a list with the names. I'll see how many I can get you."

Chapter 203 - Marksmanship Training

Second Lieutenant Most wrote Claude a few permission slips so he could claim 28 Aubass Mark 3 muskets from the armory. Apart from his nine normal recruits and the eight slow ones, Claude, the four nobles and Myjack were all issued one kink-neck. Claude managed to convince Most that he required an extra five to be switched out during training.

With the muskets in hand, Claude personally trained the recruits. He got rid of volley fire training completely and mainly trained them to get into rank and salute properly. They also familiarised themselves with the guns and the basics of shooting. What came next would be reloading practice before they finally got to target practice.

When everything was on track, Claude got a flash of inspiration and dug trenches in the yard and stacked some rocks together to erect some short cover and had the recruits hide behind them or inside the trenches. They were instructed to be in awkward prone positions inside tight spaces. They had to get used to reloading and aiming in those positions.

Among those who received that training routine were the seventeen new recruits, the four nobles, and the 16-year-old Myjack. Claude himself also joined in, having to roll about on the ground and dirtying himself up magnificently all the time. Not only did they have to bathe daily, they also had to wash their uniforms often. The four nobles expressed their objections and said that they hadn't seen that kind of training before, but Claude only said one thing to shut them up. "This training will make sure you survive the battlefield."

Soon, it came to be proven that issuing Aubass Mark 3s to the units considered to be top in combat power was a mistake. The veterans were fixed in their thoughts and had long become accustomed to volley fire. The accuracy of slanted guns wasn't important.

While they did acknowledge that the kink-necks could indeed increase their accuracy, they couldn't get used to the flash pan, cock, and slow match being on the right side of the weapon. They appreciated the symmetry of a centre-line design far more. The bulges of the kink design was ugly and hard on their eyes.

Claude's recruits didn't have any preconceptions, however, having never handled firearms before. Their increased accuracy also became quite a point of pride for them as their skills improved. Even the four nobles fell afoul of pride. Given that they didn't have much status in their families, they hadn't been allowed to use firearms before either.

The only thing that got on their nerves was reloading. Either they did so in the trenches or prone on the ground, or they were hiding behind large rocks. Reloading in those positions was difficult and very cumbersome, but Claude spent ample time on it. He stood by their sides and counted as they went through the motions, whipping them if they were too slow.

The soldiers trained while standing up and everyone had seen them doing so before. But Claude said he wasn't willing to let his men become poles at which to be shot. They were his subordinates and he had to cherish their lives and well-being. He couldn't just march them into fire to be mowed down by bad luck. Being less than suicidal and being ineffective at killing were not the same thing, so they were not allowed to just run away.

Even the slowpokes caught on to what he meant as their shots kept getting more and more accurate. Standing in front of them was a death sentence, so why would they do it themselves? Reloading while laying down was hard, but not impossible, and the increased chance of survival was worth the trade-off.

When the rainy season came, Claude had his men tear down the yard's fences and erect two sheds a hundred metres apart. Claude had had to waste the better part of a day explaining to Captain Kantaya why he needed the sheds. It cost him dearly to get the materials as well.

They were for training. The larger one was for the troops to train their reloading and aiming, all done atop straw mats. The smaller shed was for setting up human-shaped targets, all covered in paper. Claude had personally financed the making of several thousand sheets in Gourneygada.

Training was all but halted for the entirety of the rainy months. The men mostly stayed in their tents and played cards or chess, trying to pass the time and kill their infinite boredom. In the infirmary's yard, however, Claude kept his troops training. Shots rang out within his sheds every now and again.

While reloading in a prone position was cumbersome, they didn't have to worry about accidental discharges since they snubbed their slow matches after every shot. They wouldn't in battle, which would make things more dangerous, but for now, they could make all the mistakes they wanted, and they needed to so they could learn from them.

Lieutenant Most came for a visit as the 4th month came to a close. Claude's subordinates' training had caught the attention of the tribe as their bullet and powder consumption was three to four times greater than their peers. Most couldn't stay away any longer.

"Your men fire fifty times a day?!" Most shouted, staring at the log for gunpowder consumption.

Even the most liberal training regime generally only allowed for 20 volleys a day, 20 rounds per soldier. Claude's unit may be small, but they consumed more than twice the ammunition of a normal unit every day. Such an expenditure was far from explainable, especially considering the men firing that ammunition were barely acceptable in the army.

"If you want to see what that's bought you, come with me," Claude said confidently.

Most followed his subordinate without a word. Claude had the men finish their round, then sent his subordinates out to fetch the sheets.

"Eleven nine rings, five ten rings, three eight rings, and one seven ring. What do you think, Sir?" Claude asked.

The men on the range were the nine normal soldiers, the eight slow ones, Aboyev, Moriad, and Dyavid. Aboyev was the worst shot of the lot, only getting an outside seven.

Most inspected the papers for a long moment, then turned to Claude.

"Why do they shoot laying down? Why are the stretcher boys on standby behind them? Why are they there if they're unarmed? And where in the world did you get this paper?"

Claude explained everything carefully. He explained why his men didn't train in volley fire. The stretchermen were on standby so they could get used to the sounds of battle so they wouldn't panic when it came time to do their job for real. He wanted to have them run around fetching bodies for real, but the rain kept them indoors. And finally he explained his requisition of the paper. The idea was novel, but Most could not see the purpose in them. Volley fire targets were clusters of painted wooden posts. They just had to count the number of holes in the coat of paint to know how many times they'd hit. This paper was an unnecessary expense and complication.

"I won't argue that they shoot well. They're more than up to scratch for keepers. You can stop the training now. You're just wasting resources at this point. Lieutenant Carlos has asked about this suspicious expenditure twice now. He's on the brink of launching an investigation," Most finally answered.

The officers had kept their distance from Claude since learning about his backing. No one wanted to offend him, accidentally or not. If not for his backing, they'd never have approved his request for permission to build the two sheds.

Claude's smile bittered. Why was it so hard to even just train his men properly? Not that he could do anything about it, however. The military minds of his time were stuck in their ways, and a young brat like him was not going to change them anytime soon. No one liked the idea of losing thousands of people needlessly in every battle, but they had come to accept it as an unavoidable part of war.

Claude was not one to give up easily, however. He couldn't change their minds with argument, but they would not have their positions if they could not accept what was being practically demonstrated right in front of their eyes, so he'd just show them a better way.

"I'm not aiming to make them just acceptable keepers. I want them to be an elite unit. If you want, Lieutenant, we can have a wargame come clear skies and I'll show you what they can do.

Most's curiosity piqued.

"You think they can outdo a tent of trained regulars?"

"No, sir. A band, at least. Even if it had a cannon."

"Are you insane? You only have twenty or so men, not even enough for two full tents!"

"Exactly. You don't have to believe me when I say they can do it. Just call the wargame and let me show you. All I ask is that you keep the gunpowder and rounds coming until the day of the game. I'll even pay for the extra expenses if you want," Claude promised.

Most stared at Claude, but only calm, confident, determination looked back at him.

"Alright--" He nodded slowly. "--I'll keep the rounds and gunpowder coming. We'll hold the wargame the moment we have clear skies. Don't disappoint me."

"I won't, Sir. I won't."

Chapter 204 - Combat Simulation

The 13th day of the 5th month was sunny.

On a small hill not far from Fokby Hill stood near a hundred men. Most were commissioned officers superior to second lieutenant. They even counted several majors among their number. There was also a lieutenant-colonel. He'd come to observe a wargame.

Claude was one of the stars. He'd brought up the suggestion in the infirmary, and the competition had spread like wildfire throughout the camp. At least half the camp was present to watch. Everyone wanted to see what gave the green officer his balls.

A combat-strength band had 54 men. Claude's was not, and as such only had two tents -- just 23 people. Everyone knew the state of most of those men. They were hardly what one would call 'soldiers', which was why they had not been stationed anywhere else. They faced a combat strength band and a cannon. Surely the young brat that was their commander must be hearing the loose screws in his head rattling now.

No one expected a decent fight. They were just here to watch a self-overestimating boy get put in his place. Who did this brat think he was? So what if he had the kingdom's strongest baroness' backing? Was he the incarnation of the war god? He could be as strong as he wanted to be, firearms made the strength of a single man irrelevant. A bullet killed a king just as readily as it did a peasant. Even magi fell in its face, so what was a little boy?

"Combat Band 1107 will take up defenses at the top of the slope. Fifty four men and a cannon, as you requested," Most said, opening a simple map.

Lieutenant Most and the man in charge of the base's gunpowder, Second Lieutenant Carlos, were the judges. Wargames between bands weren't worthy of anyone of greater rank's attention. None of the majors and above would be present if not for the ludicracy of this particular one, and the backing of the boy who'd called for it.

"Your attack shall start here. You are to drive your opponents from the hill. The enemy has a cannon, so you will start taking losses once you come within 800 metres of them. One will die every ten minutes regardless of anything else as long as the cannon remains standing."

Claude nodded.

"Alright. Lieutenant Kemondo, please set your men up as you see fit."

"Three tents will hold the slope. The cannon will watch the left flank. A fourth tent will guard the cannon itself," the lieutenant announced, "I don't think we even need to play this out. There can be no victory for the sergeant-major. Half his men will be dead even before the first reaches firing range. We could literally just have them march up the slope, take their first volley, and march down to clean them up in hand-to-hand,"

Claude didn't speak. He just smiled at the lieutenant.

"Enough complaining. Take it as a favour," Most sighed.

Could the bastard not see how many people were watching? It was one thing to embarrass himself, but to embarrass Most...

"Go make your preparations."

Kemondo nodded and descended the slope. He had a band set up their dummies half-way down the slope. A firing line three metres deep quickly took shape. The trunk of a felled tree made for the cannon, and half a dozen dummies were placed around it as the crew.

It took about an hour, but everything was finally set up. Despite how insufficient such a setup was at mimicking true battle, safety concerns prohibited anything else. As such, one side was always static, while the other could manoeuvre. Deaths on the defending side was counted with hits to the targets, and deaths to the attacker's side at the discretion of the judges. They usually calculated losses based on average hit-rates during live training.

"The targets are ready, are you?" Most asked.

Claude pointed at the targets.

"Someone has to pull down the hit targets. If they remain up they'll obscure the targets behind them."

"Uhm..."

Most hesitated. War was decided by range and numbers. Pulling down targets was unnecessary, even more so it was ridiculously dangerous.

"Don't worry, Sir. I will not be firing in volley. You've seen my men train. We prefer... sniping. You can rest assured we will not accidentally hit the man. I volunteer Myjack. He can pull down the targets between rounds."

"Then I shall go as well," Carlos declared, "I want to see up close what stock your waste of my ammunition has made. At least get a shot or two off before you're all killed!"

Carlos marched away angrily while Claude called Myjack and gave him his instructions. The kid darted off after the second lieutenant a few moments later. The two stopped a safe distance from the targets and waited for the signal.

The meeting was thus adjourned and each went their way to make final preparations. Most took a spot next to the lone lieutenant-colonel on the field.

"What are your thoughts, Colonel?"

Lieutenant-Colonel Leoncrow had put aside a day of his duties as the right hand of one of the headquarters' tribes for this match. Like the others present, he wanted to see what had given the young sergeant-major his balls.

A long-eared, fat-faced major laughed before Leoncrow could answer.

"You think it's worth mentioning? This little crow of yours stands no chance. What gives him such balls? Your second lieutenant has a good head on him. He's chosen the perfect formation for this situation. I don't see how that little crow could turn this around." Morimyde Lee Kesdir, a combat strategist for Bluefeather, barked between his laughs.

He'd gotten his current position as much thanks to his family's reputation as by his own skill. His father was quite the well-known noble in the capital. He had little interest beyond thickening his CV. He rarely fulfilled much of his duties, preferring to spend his time in search of more interesting things to do. This little wargame offered him at least some passing amusement, so he'd come along to have a look.

Leoncrow smiled at Morimyde's assessment quietly.

"Lieutenant Kemondo's setup is by the book, that is certain. Records suggest the sergeant-major would need at least a clan to dislodge it, especially considering the cannon. The sergeant-major did suggest this of his own accord, however, and I doubt even someone as green as him would fail to have a plan, however unfeasible it may prove to be. If nothing else, I look forward to seeing what his plan is, at least."

Most waved his blue flag to announce the game's start when he saw Claude reach his men.

A whistle blew in the sergeant-major's position and his men scattered. Doctrine proclaimed the unit ought to line up and prepare for an orderly advance, however, the men under Claude's command simply faded into the bushes like rabbits darting into hidey-holes.

The audience burst into a bout of commentary immediately.

"Why are they running around like that? Where's their line? How can anyone fire effectively like that? How's he going to command them? He doesn't even know where they are!"

Most and Kemondo were dumbstruck. They watched as the troops ascended the hill. Claude could not be said to be leading them. They were too far apart for anything short of a thunderous roar to get anything across, and they all moved independently. There was no calling this a formation. It looked more like a bunch of frightened fowl running in the same general direction.

"Are you using the cannon?" Most asked.

Kemondo shook his head, a bitter smile on his face.

"I'd only be wasting ammunition. I've less chance of hitting one that if I just chucked a stone and hoped for the best. The men will deal with them with volley fire when they try to reform their ranks. Honestly, this makes no sense..."

The two lieutenants thus waited, but the enemy never reformed their ranks. The men closed the distance to about 300 metres, practically melee range, crawling the last of the distance flat on their stomachs.

"Aaaaah!"

Kemondo couldn't keep himself from screaming any longer. His volley fire would be useless. His men had nothing at which to fire. The enemy was still spread out, and now prone. His shots would just fly over their heads.

Was the brat planning to fight this in melee? That would completely void this whole exercise, however. This was to prove that his use of gunpowder wasn't a waste. If he fought this out without using any, it would defeat the whole purpose of this little game. Not to mention that a fight like this, even if won, would see at least a quarter of his men dead, and at least a further quarter wounded, probably crippled.

Kemondo wondered if he should just hit them with grapeshot when they finally stood up. It wouldn't kill them all, but it should incapacitate at least a quarter of his force in one blow.

The men on the field had stopped advancing while everyone had been discussing the various degrees of stupidity of this tactic. They'd closed up to somewhere between 150 and 200 metres. Some of the men were closer than others. White puffs of smoke popped into existence and hid the men from the observers' eyes for several seconds, then the wind cleared the clouds. A moment later the sound of their shots echoed past the crowd's ears. The shots were scattered and out of sync. It felt more like they'd had a rough idea of when to fire, but had done so as soon as they had a target, rather than wait for an actual order.

A red flag went up, and Calros and Myjack darted to the dummies.

"He's actually having them reload while laying down?!" someone shouted.

Everyone's eyes squinted, then gasps rang out about as scattered as the first shots of the battle.

More rounds followed in much the same way. The sixth saw the last dummy fall. Even Carlos and Myjack were stunned. A whistle blew again, and Claude's men stood up and marched over to the enemy's positions leisurely.

Chapter 205 - Glory or Embarrassment

Everyone, including Most, Kemondo, Leoncrow, and the fat-faced Morimyde ran to the hill. They couldn't wait to check the wooden targets Claude had his subordinate take down.

It was ridiculous. The whole war game was a joke. The young sergeant-major had taken down an entire clan and a cannon with just 20 men. He'd spread out his men, making the cannon useless, then closed in out of formation, making volley fire useless, and finally sniped the enemy from a comfortable 200 metres away, hiding behind rocks and stumps and in dead ground.

He'd quite literally just repeated the same practice he'd been doing for weeks. The officers observing took secret note of this weakness.

Though the enemy could not react due to them being inanimate objects, had they been troops, not much would have changed, since they were locked in formation and it would not have responded quickly enough to the changing situation to save them, much less turn things around.

All of the 61 targets were flat on the ground. The targets were brand new, as was regulation for wargames.

Claude's men had not let him down. The conditions weren't ideal, but they'd still kept about eight tenths of their accuracy.

They'd started with the cannon crew, taking them out before they could react was the smart move. After that they'd gone to town on the rest of the formation.

Claude had kept Gum back as his carry. The man lugged five pre-loaded muskets, and handled reloading while Claude shot.

The observers, still panting from their mad dash, gasped when they saw the neat round voids in the freshly-painted dummies. They couldn't believe how much of a force multiplier the green sergeant-major's tactics were. The smarter ones were already spinning up their minds, trying to think of ways to incorporate what they'd just witnessed into the doctrine.

Lieutenant Kemondo stared at the dummies, pale-faced. He couldn't have been more confident before the wargame had started. The thought that he might lose had not occurred to him until the third volley took down nearly half his formation in one fell swoop. And the rest of the men had fallen before he could even start seriously considering what he could do.

"I'm not convinced, Sergeant-Major. You fought with cheap tricks. You absconded from this fight without honour," Kemondo declared.

Claude shook his head.

"War is about attaining victory, not marching to your death. Why in the world would I fight a fight I know I am going to lose? That I could win against your formation with my meagre forces is all the more testament to my tactics."

"If you think teaching your troops to crawl is a victory, I won't stop you. I extended you the serious consideration I thought you deserved as an officer of Bluefeather, but I see now you're nothing but a cheap trickster. You have none of the pride of a soldier.

"We are Bluefeathers. An honourable defeat is worth a world more than a dishonourable victory. Look at your men. Do you think mud-covered grovellers look like soldiers? Even if we marched to victory without a single death using these methods, our honour would be destroyed and we'd never be able to face anyone in battle again. We are Bluefeather! Not Buglegs!"

The officers initially impressed with Claude's results, glanced at the sergeant-major's sorry, muddy figure and shook their heads. Kemondo was right. The only thing more important than victory was the manner in which it was achieved.

Claude smiled bitterly at their faces. He could only do so much to show them the merit of his tactics. If even a live demonstration could not show them the light, then they were beyond hope. Not that he cared all that much about turning the army over. He just wanted permission to continue training his troops and using his tactics himself. He just needed to protect his men. If others died because of their commander's stupidity, it had nothing to do with him.

He couldn't understand their problem with his tactics, however. Wasn't war about victory? What did looking cool matter when it would see one marching down the main street in the enemy's capital in chains?

A sigh escape Claude. The army was rife with such idiocy. Most officers of noble origin saw their men as little more than currency, to be expended for merits and small victories like so many fennies.

Officers underranking captain still had to march onto the field of battle with their men, but they were the best guarded men so close to the front. Claude's was the final rank up the ladder that faced the enemy's rounds head on in the front rows. Anything above sergeant-major led from the rear. Even being captured was far from a death sentence. Most were held in relative comfort until they could be ransomed back.

When officers were wounded, they also received preferential treatment. Claude had personally read the doctrinal manual for medical detachments. It clearly stated that treatment was to be prioritised by rank, then family background, the extenuating circumstances -- which basically meant anything from the noble in question's personal connections, to possible repayments -- and only then by severity of wounds.

Non-comms and their officers frequently clashed because of this. The ranks of commissioned officers up to sergeant-major were opened to those of ignoble descent -- commoners and peasants -- as a sugar bone to get them to shut up.

As such, many found Kemondo's criticisms quite convincing, especially Major Morimyde.

"Well said, Lieutenant. Bluefeather should maintain proper ranks and march forward adamantly! Even the harshest of fire cannot quench our drive! Even if we have to pay a huge price, we will still instill a heroic impression of us in our enemies' minds and send shudders to their hearts the next time they set sights on the blue feather! We'll send them scrambling to escape with their tails between their legs when they hear of our advance!"

Claude wasn't in the mood to argue with idiots. Morimyde was only an observer, so he could say whatever he wanted. Claude would have loved to see him line up with his men in the next battle and face cannon and volley fire. That would change his mind very quickly. He'd probably even crawl under corpses if it gave him even the tiniest possibility of surviving.

A couple of the other officers were less inclined to agree, and they drew Claude's attention immediately.

"Actually, the defence only has to erect a few low walls to block most of the shots and decrease unnecessary casualties. Perhaps that's a point where we can improve our defensive formations..."

"I believe having theM line up and waiting is too stiff. If the attacking side has lower numbers, when they crawl and shoot, the defence should launch a counterattack and exterminate the enemy in a melee. The open disposition of the sergeant-major's forces makes them extremely vulnerable to a charge. They'll quickly be isolated and picked off with ease."

Claude approached Lieutenant Most.

"Shall we next hold a wargame with my side on the defence?"

Most shook his head.

"No need. Lieutenant Kemondo will refuse the moment you go down again. He won't stand for such shameless tactics. He refuses to 'descend to your level'."

Chapter 206 - The Breakout of War

The combat simulation run by the 11th Tribe on Fokby Hill Base had a slight ripple effect, but talk of it all but subsided before a week even passed. People would only bring it up from time to time and focused on how Claude managed to best his foes at a huge disadvantage, but criticized that the methods were cowardly and improper.

It was also said that while the tactics were suited for demonstrations and skirmishes, it wouldn't be of any use on an actual battlefield where tens of thousands people would fight. If tens of thousands of the troops crawled on the ground like bugs, Bluefeather might as well be renamed to Buglegs like Kemondo mentioned.

After Claude returned to base, nobody paid him any attention even though he was the victor of the war game. The only benefit from the victory was how Second Lieutenant Carlos no longer chided him for the gunpowder consumption of his troops. They had proven themselves with their accurate shots and it was reason enough to justify their gunpowder and bullet consumption.

But what troubled him was while the Aubass Mark 3 was the first musket produced by the kingdom with accurate sights, the accuracy still left something to be desired. While its accuracy still held up a hundred meters away and the bullseye could be reliably hit, a distance more than 150 meters left quite a bit of margin of error.

It wasn't a problem with the troops. The muskets of this age were mostly smoothbores and their bullets were in essence lead pellets. Apart from human error and environmental factors, the bullets were also affected by many other variables after a shot was made. Those weren't things that could be addressed through more training. Whether an accurate shot could be made a hundred meters away would have to depend on luck.

Back then, he mainly used his modified gun for hunting and the ranges he required were mostly within a hundred meters. That was why he didn't find any fault in the gun. Only after the training exercise did he find that shooting 200 meters away was quite hard for the troops. If he had his alchemical array with him, he would've tried his hand at some experimenting. He believed that rifling in the barrel and Minie balls instead of normal pellets would solve the problem. Even though he was no rifle expert by a long shot, he had read quite a bit on gun hobbyist discussion forums.

However, he didn't have access to what he needed in the camp. Even though Bluefeather had a small gunnery in Gourneygada, Claude visited it only to find that the most they were capable of was reassembly of guns. They could only work with existing parts. Modifying or forging new parts for guns was far from what they were capable of.

Additionally, the training exercise improved the opinion of the upper brass about his training abilities. Within two short months, he was able to whip some new recruit rejects into shape. Even though they still weren't capable of doing volley fire as a group, they were more than capable of serving as patrol troops or keepers.

After a week or so, he received a mission to train another batch of some seventy new recruits with the same requirements -- that they be fit enough to serve in keeper or stretcher units.

It was said that the vice administrator of the base, Lieutenant Colonel Leoncrow, was the one who made that suggestion. He believed that letting Claude train the rejects was akin to reforging bad iron. Perhaps they could still be salvaged as capable keepers. It was still better than sending them to slave away at normal laborious jobs at the logistics department.

Claude complained to Most about his nanny assignment after two bands' worth of rejects were sent into his care. The problem was who would be their bandsmen? A tentsman usually held the rank of sergeant major and the right-hands of tents were master sergeants. In the battlefield, the master sergeants could take over as temporary tentsman in case the sergeant major was incapacitated. However, bandsmen were usually second lieutenants. Each band had four tents and four sergeant majors and master sergeants respectively.

Claude had 17 keepers and the ten who were particularly mentally challenged served as stretcher troops. The four nobles were master sergeants. If the corps sent the rest of the rejects over, they would number almost a hundred men, enough for two full bands.

Having more subordinates didn't automatically mean that things would be easier. Claude had expended lots of effort to train seventeen keepers alone and he was still wracking his brains over how he could train the super slow ten into proper stretcher troops. And yet, another bunch of rejects were going to come under his care. That was when he decided to complain to Most and insist on not taking the unfair burden. If they really wanted him to train them, he should at least have a second lieutenant covering his back.

Most appeared rather troubled and said that those were orders from the top brass and he could do nothing bout it. Assigning a second lieutenant or two to Claude's unit wasn't something he could do either. Most of the second lieutenants knew the kind of people Claude was tasked to train and nobody was willing to become a bandsman for them. With the war just upon the horizon, they all hoped to gain some merit on the frontlines instead of serving as bandsmen for keeper and stretcher bands.

Given that Most was only a second lieutenant, he couldn't order them around either. He only said that he would try to make Claude's requests heard, but he said that if the upper brass didn't intend to do anything about it, Claude could be their nominal bandsman. As for assigning more sergeant majors and master sergeants to his unit, that wouldn't be possible as the army was quite short-handed and he suggested that Claude let the four nobles serve as tentsmen.

The most Most could do was to assign some corporals or sergeants to serve as right-hands for the tents. Due to the recruitment drive, most staff sergeants have already been promoted to sergeant majors. Given Most's power, assigning Claude corporals and sergeants was the extent of what he could do. However, he did throw the remaining 72 Aubass Mark 3s to Claude's unit generously and promised an unlimited supply of pellets and powder, since he knew Claude's training routine spent quite a lot of those.

Seeing that Claude was still blabbering in his office, he couldn't take it any longer and warned him sternly that a soldier had to follow orders. The assignments their superiors gave them were not negotiable. They weren't hawkers who could be haggled with and he shouldn't complain about the difficulty of the assignment.

Having no other choice, Claude took on the new rejects and trained them at the infirmary.

Time flew and word arrived at the base at the end of the 5th month while Claude was still busy training the recruits. Aueras had declared war against the five nations of the anti-Aueras alliance. They responded with their own declaration in kind. The cloud of war would once more cover the eastern part of the continent of Freia. The flames had been ignited, but nobody knew yet who would be reduced to ash.

The breakout of war was received with cheer and fanfare in the base. Many soldiers praised Stellin X and chanted slogans to defeat their enemies and sang Bluefeather's war songs with high spirits. They saw the war as a chance for glory and promotions and thought that it would be effortless to obtain.

Claude was busy training his stretcher troops. He currently had 38 of them, all unfit for normal duty. What he wanted was to train their ability to react appropriately in a battlefield scenario. He had some scarecrows dressed in Bluefeather's uniforms set up all over the hills and had the stretcher troops bring the scarecrows back. To increase the realism of the situation, he had the chefs get him some pig organs to scatter all over the scarecrows.

Those who managed to carry a scarecrow back properly were allowed to drink and rest and perhaps even be given a fruit or bread as reward. Claude had no choice but to train them like he would dogs to encourage the behaviour he wanted. As for prioritizing officers during the rescue, Claude believed it too complicated for them. The idiots in the stretcher units were almost indistinguishable from the mentally challenged.

Claude accepted up to three batches of rejects, numbering 121 men in total, within a month's time. He organized them into one keeper band of 60 men and another stretcher unit with 38 men. The truly unsalvageable rejects were sent to the logistics department as laborers.

Two of the recruits used to be thugs in their homes. After they were drafted, they played dumb in an attempt to skimp out on training and were sent to Claude. When their shtick was seen through, they still refused to change, so Claude reported it to Second Lieutenant Most. Those two fools were decapitated before all the recruits in the base and made an example of.

Word of war breaking out was brought back by Perunt. According to him, the main base was in complete chaos. The officers were all cheering and clamoring to take down the anti-Auerasian alliance. As for the normal soldiers, a portion of them cheered with the same fervour as their superiors, while the rest wallowed about in grimness. War meant that they would have no choice but to serve as cannon fodder on the battlefield. Those with half a brain would know that it wasn't good news by any measure.

Claude had nothing to say in regard to that. He only readied himself mentally for the inevitable. Even though he was a sergeant major, he also served as a bandsman of his keeper and stretcher bands. He would be in a much safer position than normal soldiers. At the very least, he wouldn't have to be part of the main charge and even if the infirmary had to be deployed at the frontlines, they would be situated near the rear of the battlefield.

"Are we going to be deployed soon?" Claude asked.

Perunt shook his head. "I have no idea. The main base hasn't issued any orders yet and I'm not sure what our 11th Tribe will be tasked with. But I heard that the 3rd and 7th Combat Tribes have already received orders to sortie at the Duchy of Sidins. I believe our corps' main target should be the duchy."

Claude sighed at the sudden outbreak of war. He thought he'd have at least one more month to train up the new recruits. According to the newspapers he read lately, the kingdom was still sending ambassadors to the five nations in hopes of compromises to ease the tension to prevent war. He didn't think it would come so soon, with Aueras taking the initiative to declare war, even. He didn't understand what could've happened to prompt that.

He felt like he was swept away helplessly by the currents of history like a ragdoll. There were far too many things beyond his means to control.

Chapter 207 - Arrival of the Prince

Perunt returned with more news a couple days later. It turned out the final delegation the kingdom had sent to Nasri to negotiate were humiliated by a Shiksan delegation.

A fight broke out between the two ambassadors, but Aueras' was a born and bred diplomat, not a fighter. He lost the confrontation... badly. He drew his sword and committed suicide when everyone started laughing at him. Nasri should have stepped in to stop the whole thing, but they just stood by and watched. A few rumours said they had been more than just onlookers. Some said they had goaded the two sides into conflict and had been the ones to push the ambassador to suicide after he lost the fight.

The Nasrians realised what the man was doing too late to stop him, however, and now war had come. The king had declared war the moment he saw his ambassador's corpse. The country had now been at war for five days.

There was still some time left before they were deployed, however. War was a long and slow thing on Freia. It took several days just to get orders out to all the forces, then it took weeks, even months for them to stack up their men and be ready to march. Many units were usually understrength in peacetime, and this needed several months to recall men to active duty and train recruits to bring their units up to combat strength. Aueras' forces had been expecting war for several months now, and had spent all that time preparing, but it would still take some time for them to gear up for deployment.

News should have only just reached the nearer Alliance nations, but they'd been expecting this from the day the ambassador had killed himself, and so they'd started making their moves a couple days ago already.

Claude found Freian war a laughing matter. The idea of declaring war while you still needed months to prepare for anything even remotely resembling an offensive made absolutely no sense to him. The declaration acted more as a notice of eventual war, than an actual announcement that war had now begun. The logical thing was to make all preparations, then declare war just days or, ideally, hours, before marching across the border.

Corps Command was in meetings all day long, so Claude and his men busied themselves in the mess hall. They focused on getting all the supplies they would need: food, water, uniforms, munitions, medicine, bandages, et cetera. Each man was entitled to an arm's length of black bread to take on deployment; three day's worth of bread. HQ had ordered each man get 15 days' rations instead. Each thus had to get five loaves; six thousand loaves for the entire base. Salt, dry cheese, jerky, sticks of butter, and dried fruit were also on the menu.

The men had to carry three days' rations on their person, the rest would be brought along in the supply train and distributed as needed. The rations they carried with them was only for when they were on the move, however. If they set up camp, the camp-mess would provide food.

Claude had not thought even something as essential as rations would only be prepared after war was declared. Though they had yet to march, and he thus technically had more time to train his men, he didn't actually get to make use of it. HQ had ordered a full stocktake of their supplies, which meant nothing could leave the storehouses, not even munitions used for ongoing training.

Claude's tribe, the 11th, was one of the corps' more capable tribes. It belonged to the 3rd Line of the 1st Folk. Oddly, only the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Folks were deployed over the next two weeks. The 1st Folk, officially acknowledged as the most powerful in the corps, remained in camp. The folk's high command was getting itchy, but every petition for their deployment was shut down.

Perunt shone with his wide information network. He heard lots of things from all over the place, such as how they were going to fight on two fronts. Reddragon and Griffon were being deployed to the northwest to shoal off any offensive by Nasri. Bluefeather was to march against Sidins on their own and wipe them out.

Sidins was the equivalent of about seven Aueran prefectures, hardly much of a challenge for Bluefeather. They just needed time to clean it up. Unfortunately, the Audin Mountain Range stood between them and the duchy, and the duchy had heavily fortified their side.

Sidins' ruler and his council believed they were completely safe on that front. The last thing any half-decent commander would do is march his army across a mountain range right into extensive fortifications. He might make it over the mountains with little in the way of losses if he was lucky, but to fight against a fortified enemy when his supply chain was all but neutred by the mountain range was suicide.

Bluefeather certainly had more than half-decent commanders in command; unfortunately, they were Bluefeather commanders. They were not the kind to let something as minor as a mountain range stop them from getting in on the action, especially not when their rivals were going to be in the thick of it.

High Command had little reason to try and curb Bluefeather's... enthusiasm for such an offensive. They needed to take the two ports Sidins was contributing to the Alliance in order to complete their cut-off of the enemy navy.

Bluefeather's commanders were not about to waste this opportunity either. They'd won the chance to be deployed from the beginning of the war by fighting for it tooth and nail. They were strong, but not as powerful, or well-regarded, as the royal guard or Reddragon. They'd been sending scouting parties into, and later across, the mountain range from the day they had heard definite news about the war's inevitability months earlier.

Their scouts had found several weak points in the ill-alert defences. If they pushed their attack there with precise timing, they could break right through. If they did so quickly enough, and with enough of their force intact, they could march right through to the enemy capital before they even heard about their presence.

They'd also discovered an old smuggler's passage they could use to cross the mountains undetected.

Perunt also had news that the initial attack had already been launched. It had gone very well and the 2nd Folk had taken Wemis, the nearest Sidinsian city. The 3rd and 4th Folks had taken up defensive positions on either end of the mountain pass to make sure it was not taken or destroyed.

"So why are we still in camp?" Claude asked.

That was one question, however, Perunt could not answer.

Another week passed without any word. Then, finally, on the eighth day, news came. The 1st Folk was being held back to receive the second prince. The crown prince, Hansbach Tam Stellin, had been assigned to Reddragon, and the second prince, Wedrick Tam Stellin, had been assigned to Bluefeather. They'd been sent with two tasks. The first, to announce the kingdom's new policy regarding the three prefectures they'd taken from Nasri in the last war, and to join the two corps as they marched into battle.

The martial law that had been in place in Kafreizit, Lasdonkrun, and Botamia for several decades now, was finally to come to an end. Their taxes would be reduced to the normal rate, however, they had to raise three irregular corps for the war.

The 1st Folk was to be the second prince's personal bodyguard while he was in the field. Claude and his unit was to deploy with the 11th Tribe. While the final preparations were being made, he was sent to the unit's headquarters to join the party receiving the prince and join the parade to be held to display the force responsible for the prince's protection.

Chapter 208 - The Prince's Summons

It was Claude's first time in the HQ and his mind was once more blown by the scale of everything. He recalled how the soldiers proudly told him about their main camp when he first arrived in Gourneygada. The soldier mentioned how grand the base was and said that one couldn't see the other end from one end.

It was indeed rather grand. Countless tents were grouped together in fours and arranged together into bigger squares that filled one's vision from end to end.

The closer he got to the base, the more he heard the commotion. Bluefeather's three main folks had gone to the frontlines and only the 1st remained. However, he heard from Perunt that two irregular corps had already made their way to camp. One of them would accompany 1st Folk to Sidins and the other would remain as reserves and train the new recruits.

As the commander of a keeper and stretcher band, Claude worked quite closely with Perunt. After he finished settling his men's accommodation, Perunt asked Claude to go to the infirmary.

It was located on the eastern edge of the camp. Within the tents were near a hundred injured that had been brought back from the frontlines. Most had injuries consistent with falls. Apparently they'd taken tumbles off cliffs as the two folks had made their way across the mountain range.

Perunt had come looking for an old friend, the person in charge of the infirmary, Doctor Mozart. Unfortunately he was absent at the moment. Prince Wedrick had arrived in Gourneygada the day before and had been invited to a banquet by a couple. He became ill soon after, however, and Mozart had been summoned to treat him.

The two returned crestfallenly.

Claude remained in the base for the better part of three days with little to do. Perunt, by contrast, was drowning under his workload. The soldiers of 1st Folk and the two irregular corps butted heads a lot. The 11th Tribe alone had more than ten brawls. It kept the enforcers quite busy.

Fortunately, the brawls only resulted in light internal injuries that could be treated with simple concoctions. Perunt said the war was stringing tensions high and troops were easily triggered by stupid things. Usually, as long as a large-scale beatdown didn't break out, high command didn't crack down on them.

When Claude returned, he warned his minions to watch their men properly and make sure they stayed in their tents. If they didn't have anything to do, they ought to sleep. Whatever they did, they were not to wander around.

They were summoned to the parade grounds the next morning. Prince Wedrick would be inspecting the units before they departed for Sidins.

As the prince would be accompanied by many other rich and powerful people, the soldiers were instructed to wear new uniforms and be well fed and rested so they were fit and in high spirits during the parade.

Claude's bands weren't part of the parade. Command knew what kind of men were in his unit and worried they would disgrace the corps. They were instead to replace the camp guards.

Berklin spat hatefully as the horns blared to announce the parades start.

"Those bastards..."

No one was happy being excluded from the parade. Claude was the only one who seemed indifferent.

"Don't you wanna see what the prince looks like?" Moriad asked.

Claude laughed.

"What for? He's a man like any other; two eyes, a nose, a mouth, some hair on top... He just happens to have a cushy heritage."

"But if we can win his favour, we'll soar up the ranks," Aboyev complained.

"Hehe," Berklin chuckled, "Dream on. Do you really think you'll actually get anywhere near him? Only people who are already elites get to meet him. He's not going to call up a grunt like you or me."

"Berklin speaks sense," Dyavid chirped, "I'm not too interested in the second prince. I'm just pissed that we're on sentry duty while all the city's cutest girls are all out there fawning over the prince."

"Forget it, don't make a fuss. Why don't you take a couple men to the woods and see if you can catch something. I want meat. Heck, didn't they say that the parade will start at ten? It's already twelve. It'll be at least close to sunset by the time they finish. Then the HQ will probably hold a private banquet to welcome the prince officially, which will keep the kitchen busy and we won't have dinner tonight."

Prince Wedrick had only just arrived, so the ceremony started late. The men had been on parade for several hours already, while the nobles and top commanders watched on under parasols, drinking tea and snacking on biscuits.

In the end, however, the folk were to have a quick lunch after the parade before heading out. The irregular corps would stay the night and depart the next morning.

Claude finished his rounds just in time to receive the order to prepare to depart.

It was a huge joke. Though Stellin X had assigned his two sons a royal guard tribe each, in addition to their own tent of guards from the Watch, Bluefeather believed it wasn't enough and added the 11th Tribe.

The prince, however, seemed to forget that they were to depart and stayed in his manor. Two days had passed since the parade now, and he had yet to make an appearance. Perunt had just heard he was holding yet another banquet, to which half the city's noble beauties had been invited.

The generals finally felt something was off when the third day came and went without an appearance from the prince. They headed to his manor, and he finally agreed to depart the next day.

The 11th Tribe would march at the column's helm. They would set off after breakfast and half an hour's rest. Two hours after their departure, however, they were told to make camp for lunch. The prince was going to have lunch and then rest some.

The afternoon was nearly halfway past before they got orders again. It was not to break camp, however, instead it was to expand camp since they were going to spend the night. The prince would be joining them, so they had to make space for him as well.

The men almost threw rocks at the messenger. At this rate they wouldn't even reach the mountain range before the war was over.

Regardless, they had their orders, and Bluefeather was nothing if not sticklers for following orders. The men thus set about preparing for the prince's arrival. The prince marched into the camp at sundown. His entourage was accompanied by droves of women, all of considerable background.

The night was almost out when Claude finished his rounds again and prepared to turn in. An attendant came to him at that time and told him he'd been summoned by the prince. He didn't have the smallest inkling as to why, but when a royal snapped his fingers, a commoner could do little but obey.

The tent to which he was led appeared to be high command's tent. It was at least several times larger than the tents Claude's unit had been issued. Even before he came to it, he could hear the merrymaking going on inside. He could see the shadows of a buffet dancing on the inside of the tent's wall.

He was told to wait in one corner while the prince finished the dance. At least three generals were present, each had wine and red faces.

The dance soon came to an end and a blond-headed man sauntered past Claude after giving his dance partner an elongated smooch. The attendant shadowing him motioned for Claude to follow.

"I have brought Claude Ferd, Your Highness," the attendant then announced.

Chapter 209 - Refusal

The prince looked up, and Claude realised he didn't look as young as he'd initially thought. He was at least in his late thirties. Claude could see the slightest hints of wrinkles starting to reveal themselves at the edges of his face. He was pale and somewhat gaunt. His bloodshot eyes made him look like a black company employee.

The prince didn't speak. He spared Claude only a glance, then poured himself some more wine, and took a sip. He raised his chin and stared down at Claude for a long, contemptuous moment before he spoke.

"You are Claude Ferd? My aunt's student from Whitestag?" he asked.

Aunt? It took Claude a good four seconds to realise the prince was talking about Baronnes Maria. So even the king's children saw her as the king's sister. It had to be more than just alleyway talk if even the king's children were recognising her as the king's sister.

"If Your Highness is referring to Baroness Maria, then yes. I am her student. She has given me much guidance," Claude replied after a salute.

"Mhmm... My aunt said you had a great talent for herbal medicine. You don't look like much to me. You're barely even a soldier. It seems you are set to disappoint her greatly. What a waste of her kindness. She even asked me to look after you..."

Claude didn't have anything with which to reply. The prince had turned out to be a bully, a shallow person who thought the world of first impressions; so there was no point in trying to change his mind.

"I thank Her Ladyship for her concern. An untalented student has indeed let her down. I would beg to differ regarding my soldiering, Your Highness. I am doing quite well, I need no special consideration," Claude refused politely.

The prince heard none of it.

"How about this, I'll talk to General Feliput and have him transfer you to me as a guard. I'll have him promote you to first lieutenant as well. That should fulfill my obligation to my aunt."

Claude's expression changed.

"Your Highness, please. I said I don't need special consideration. I am doing well enough as it is and I wish to walk forward on my own strength and merit."

His voice carried further than he'd intended and the whole tent shut up.

The prince's face darkened. He never expected a common brat to turn down his benevolence, much less do it so publicly.

"You... you really..." he stammered, glaring at Claude.

Now he'd done it, Claude thought, he'd really just gone and pissed off a prince. He bowed deeply.

"Please tell Her Ladyship that I regret having to turn down her kindness. Regardless of how it came to this, I am now an enlisted man. As such I wish to serve the kingdom properly. I do not wish to exploit her goodwill for gain. It is unfair to my comrades and subordinates. I hope my determined service will earn Your Highness' forgiveness for any slight I may have caused."

The prince's expression softened.

"Forgive me for being so uncouth, Your Highness," Claude quickly continued, "I fear my presence will sour the evening, if you would kindly permit me to take my leave, I would be in your debt."

The prince opened his mouth, but said nothing. He waved and turned his back on Claude. Claude bowed again and headed for the exit.

"Is Your Highness going to let this insolent brat just walk off without punishment?" someone asked before Claude could get out of the tent.

Claude wavered for a moment, but the prince snapped on the man quickly.

"He's a country bumpkin. He's never even set foot outside his little village. I am not so ingracious as to punish him for something so trivial. I may not know why my aunt has taken a liking to him, but she has, and I am not just going to break her pet."

Claude wiped the sweat from his forehead once he was outside the tent. He cursed Maria under his breath. Why did she always have to interfere? She did nothing but make more trouble for him. He appreciated the thought, but it should stay as that, a thought. He didn't need her meddling in everything he did. And what had possessed her to ask such a bastard to look after him?

He'd heard the man was an arrogant slob. He surrounded himself with yes men and struck down anyone who dared so much as hint that he might possibly consider disagreeing with him.

It might seem like a good idea to put him next to the prince; there could be few safer places after all, especially considering the prince's character, which Claude suspected meant he was not likely to go charging into battle; but it was a step back for Claude, not a step forward.

He might have taken the offer had he been just a grunt, but he had already started climbing the ladder and gotten himself a decently cushy position which still offered him ample opportunities to gather up the merit necessary to climb even further. If he stayed by the prince's side, he would never take another step up the ladder. That would be as high as he would get.

There were two kinds of military titles in Aueras, official ones and honorary ones. Official titles were held for life because they were earned with sweat and blood. Even in death they accompanied you. Honorary titles were temporary grants that were lost the moment the position was no longer needed. The title he would gain from a transfer to the prince's personal guard was one of the latter. He would only hold it for as long as he was on campaign with the prince. Once the campaign ended and the prince returned to the capital, he would lose it and once again be just a sergeant-major.

Honorary titles, while often used for military personnel as an easy temporary fix to a problem, were primarily a reward for civilians who aided the war effort in some other way. A master craftsman lending his services to make arms, or a businessman donating funds to the imperial war chest might be rewarded with a special title which entitled them to certain privileges and benefits while the war was on.

The three generals in the tent, for example, were but honorary ones. They were in reality of much lower rank, but it was seen as unfitting for the prince to be surrounded by people of such low rank, so they were given higher honorary titles. Honorary titles were easy to distinguish from genuine ones. The shoulder ranks were typically far more pompous than the utilitarian designs of true ranks.

Much the same had been done for all the men in the prince's royal guards. He'd given them all honorary titles of at least second lieutenant level since the prince thought it was beneath him to have mere grunts serving as his guards.

Claude was not inclined to walk into a snake nest like that, and much less so if it didn't benefit him at all. He was not someone with a slave fetish and had no desire to be someone else's lapdog.

Considering his already much safer command, the additional safety offered by the position the prince had offered had little value to him. On top of that, he had worked so hard to not take any further favours from the baroness, so he was certainly not going to accept such a clear, public favour now.

The prince stayed in bed until well into the afternoon of the following day. They barely finished breaking camp by sundown. They only marched a couple kilometres before having to pitch camp again.

The day after was the same. Bluefeather's officers had nearly started pulling out their hair. Luckily one suggested they just get everyone coaches and carriages so the prince's state couldn't hold them up any longer. They did so, and, while they could still only travel a couple hours every day, they made at least three times the distance.

Despite that, it took them a fortnight to make it to the Audin Mountain Range, despite the journey being supposed to take just five days. Everyone expected the rest of the year to be spent crawling over the mountains, but high command had prepared well and got the prince a palanquin so he couldn't complain about being too tired to continue.

Claude understood well Bluefeather's angst. The mountain range held 80 thousand captured enemies that could not be brought into the kingdom until the prince had formally accepted their surrender. The same went for the city of Eimiss beyond the mountain range. Its formal surrender had to be given to the highest ranking person amongst the forces operating in the area, which was the second prince.

Beyond the city lay many more surrenders for the prince to accept. The rest of Bluefeather had been clearing out the duchy in short order while they'd been crawling along and had already taken the duchy's two port cities. Only the duchy's capital, Efenasburg remained.

They could only do so much without reinforcements, however. The men were tired after a month of fighting and constant marching. They didn't have the strength to make the final push without a rest. If they were to take the duchy before enemy reinforcements could arrive, they had to get fresh units up to the front.

A portion of each of the two folks had been left behind to occupy the captured cities, so at the very least they had to get to those cities and relieve the rested units of their duty so they could rejoin their folks and bolster them for the final assault.

As they were speaking, the duchy was mustering with all its might, so every day's delay made final victory a more expensive prospect.

The prince didn't care about any of that. His only concern was trying to make this miserable chore he'd been given by his father as entertaining as possible. He would have preferred to stay in the capital, but he didn't dare disobey his father.

His vanity was even worse than his sloth, however. He had the entire force stop several times during their crossing of the mountain range so he could pose atop the ruined fortifications for a painter to immortalise his heroism.

At one point he also had the entire column halt for several hours while he hunted down a rabbit he noticed on the side of the road. His entourage was all too happy to join in as well. They were there to gain his favour so they could earn some treasure on this campaign.

For all the hair Bluefeather's command was losing, however, they could do nothing about the prince's antics. They wished they could have had the stoic first prince, but at least the second prince was only slightly too fun-loving. He was still a better burden than any of his younger siblings. The third prince was a born troublemaker, the fourth prince a coward, and the first princess a stingy wench. He was at least more inclined to obey his father than any of them.

Chapter 210 - In the Heat of the Matter

Had Prince Wedrick been a firm, resolute and serious person, the army's plans would've been realised to ideal perfection. Aueras would've been able to take the entirety of Eastern Freia and doom the Alliance. There wouldn't need to be three years of drawn-out war and that many stunning occurrences.

Perhaps only the passing of time could allow light to be shed on plans made in darkness. The only thing on which Bluefeather could blame their misfortunes was that they had made a bad choice for a prince. They had to endure his laid-back and leisure-seeking personality and watch as their opportunities and chances to fight slipped away.

Reddragon and Griffon were still advancing into Nasri. They relied on their cannons to bust through one fortress after another, but the casualties were rather high. Even though two-thirds of Sidins had been occupied, the delays caused by Prince Wedrick wasted the gains. The arrival of reinforcements from the duchies of Askilin, Rimodra, and Canas made it a real possibility that Bluefeather would have to fight a pitched field battle against superior numbers when they reached Efenasburg.

They had predicted such a possibility, however, though they'd hoped to avoid it, and made appropriate preparations. In the original plan, called Operation Sickle, Bluefeather would sweep into Sidins through the mountain range and force the duchy's forces to surrender before they occupied the two port cities and attacked Efenasburg within a fortnight, wiping the duchy out before it could even figure out what was happening.

With Sidins neutralised they would push into Nasri from the east, catching them between two sledgehammers. No one on the enemy side considered the possibility of the duchy falling this quickly since everyone assumed the mountain range and the duchy's fortifications on their side of it made any attack, while not impossible, so costly that Aueras wouldn't even bother trying. The lands between the duchy and Nasri were all open plains, so once the duchy fell, they were as bare as a kneeling maiden.

That was the ideal case, which had clearly not come to pass. Bluefeather were standing at Efenasburg's gates, but they could not push through. They were forced to stand by and watch as thousands of enemy reinforcements streamed into the city.

It had still been accounted for. The plan was for the leading forces to pull back some 20 kilometres if this happened. They would hold back until all of Bluefeather could muster, then besiege the capital and flatten it to the ground, enemies inside included.

Since that was now the plan to execute, the more enemies got into the city, up to a certain limit, the better. So they left the enemy to their own devices, contenting themselves with keeping count of how many enemies were in the city. At the moment, that count stood at 220 thousand men. At least a corps from each nation.

Bluefeather's 2nd Combat Folk had set up a defensive position some 20 kilometres back as planned.

High Command believed that as long as the irregular corps arrived, they had nothing to worry about despite the enemy's numbers. Quite a few also believed Wedrick's delays weren't all curse and no blessing. They could lead the battles themselves instead of carrying out Operation Sickle and joining up with Reddragon and Griffon this way.

The officers thus stopped nagging the prince to speed up, and just marched along at the pace he set. The procession finally arrived in Eimis in the middle of the 8th month, two and a half months after the war started. The prince rested for three days before finally attending his duties. After the surrender ceremony, Bluefeather's 1st Combat Folk prepared to set out for the front lines. Given the hot weather, Prince Wedrick remained holed up in a mansion in Eimis. He tasked two of his honorary generals with managing things in the port cities in his stead. The two irregular corps each left a folk in Eimis.

Claude's 11th Tribe was the only normal military unit to remain in the city. They were tasked with the prince's continued safety. It was a boring job; they couldn't even play peacekeeper since that duty had been handed to the irregulars. But they could not disobey the prince. He was quite the paranoid bastard, actually. He constantly fretted over his safety, even when he was so far from the conflict. His paranoia saw him holed up in the mansion more often than not.

Claude took frequent walks. Eimis was the fourth largest city in the duchy, but, though it had been famed for its agriculture, occupation had robbed the city of all vitality. The only thing people did outside their houses were fetching water and visiting the shrines.

I took Claude nearly an hour's walking finally to find an open shop. He wanted to buy a couple of bottles of fruit wine to drink with his minions, but the panic-stricken shop owner shook his head furiously and said that he had no alcohol for sale. Only after Claude paid a thale did the owner look around carefully to make sure nothing was amiss before taking out four bottles of fruit wine with no price tags.

He only found out why the owner had behaved like that on the way back to camp. A tent of fully-armed men was led by two honorary first lieutenants as they broke into houses and shops and searched inside. When he went there to ask, he was told that they were expropriating for the prince. They were collecting war tax from the citizens and those without money had to pay with goods or their belongings.

It was rather common for the occupants to collect war tax from the citizens that inhabited the places they occupied. The only difference was that Prince Wedrick's war tax was thrice the normal rate. He taxed every single citizen, newborn infants included. Apparently, he was trying to make a quick buck using the war tax as an excuse.

Claude had no jurisdiction over them, so he hurried back to camp. As the old adage went, 'see no evil'.

The end of the 9th month marked the completion of the initial phase of the war. The two irregular corps had arrived at their destinations and both the Aueran army and the allied army of Sidins had tacitly agreed where the stage for the final battle would be carried out and were making preparations the best they could to increase their chances.

Only the free 11th Tribe remained in Eimis. Some officers craving for merit on the battlefield cursed their misfortune for receiving such an assignment. They couldn't partake in the deciding battle that would set the stage of Eastern Freia for the future to come. It was set to be a battle that would leave a mark in history and missing out on it was far too bad.

Claude, on the other hand, wasn't bothered. He often visited Perunt for chats. Perunt found the days he spent in Eimis rather leisurely. He didn't have to tend to any injured from the 11th Tribe, given that they didn't have to patrol the city or collect taxes. Only two unlucky fellows suffered from food poisoning and Perunt easily got a healer to tend to them.

Having nothing better to do, the two of them often debated with a map of Sidins laid open before them. What made Claude wonder was why the three duchies of Askilin, Canas and Rimodra only sent one corps of reinforcements to Sidins. They hadn't been touched by war before and should've had more than enough time and resources to build up their forces.

Additionally, Nasri should've acted upon hearing about the situation at Sidins. Sending a corps or two over as reinforcements should've been par for the course, but why haven't they done so? Nasri had four standing corps and would form eight more irregular corps after the war broke out. Currently, Reddragon and Griffon only kept three of their standing corps occupied. They could definitely afford to send two more to aid Sidins.

For some reason, the worst of their speculations had actually been realised. A net had been cast on Bluefeather and the other two irregular corps. The Aueran army had committed the fatal mistake of underestimating the enemy in their plans. In their minds, they believed that a single of their own corps could take down two to three of the enemies'. They took it for granted that even the irregular corps could defeat one standing corps of the enemy.

They also thought that the moment they launched an attack, the enemy could do naught but hold their ground to defend or retreat as far as they could until they were forced to plead the kingdom for a ceasefire agreement when there was nowhere left to run. They thought all they had to do was to launch attacks nonstop, not stopping for a second to consider the possibility of the enemy attacking out of desperation.

Nobody could've predicted that the Alliance had set their sights on Bluefeather. Nasri was willing to lose ground on the western front if it meant they could take down Bluefeather in Sidins and rid themselves of the thorn in their eye for good. They had secretly sent two standing corps from the western front away and used three irregular corps to take on Reddragon and Griffon's attacks instead.

The two standing corps were sent to the border of Sidins and they sneaked into the duchy with the intent of attacking Bluefeather and their irregular corps from the rear. They would wipe out the 100 plus thousand enemies for good. The Alliance decided to snap the claw that stretched itself into Sidins once and for all.

That meant that Bluefeather wasn't only just going to take on 200 plus thousand enemies. The three duchies didn't just send one corps to Sidins. They had sent two each instead, unbeknownst to Bluefeather. Coupled with the two Nasrian standing corps and the other reinforcements transported by the Alliance's navy which they intended to deploy at the captured port cities, they intended to prevent Bluefeather from retreating into the port cities.

Chapter 211 - Initial Signs of Danger

When historians eventually discuss the Battle of Efenasburg, they will unanimously agree that the biggest mistake the Alliance made was to ignore Eimis' strategic importance. Had Nasri's two corps first occupied Eimis, they would've sealed off Aueras' irregular corps and Bluefeather within Sidins' Amilia Plains and wiped them out.

But warfare of the time was focused on fighting decisive field battles. They avoided sieges and urban conflict as much as possible. The Alliance believed they only had to defeat the two irregular corps. The city would fall back into their hands on its own.

Bluefeather's mistake, on the other hand, was their failure to predict the enemy's numbers might double to 400 thousand. Apart from Bluefeather and the two irregular corps having a bloody battle ahead, Aueras had another irregular corps in Sidins split into its many smaller units, instead of stationed in Eimis as the Alliance believed.

The irregular corps from Chanyalar consisted of various keepers and garrisoneers from all over the place. It had four folks. Two had split off after the corps made it to Sidins to occupy the port cities. A third was sent back as escort for prisoners of war. Just one folk guarded Eimis.

And even that folk was scattered by Prince Wedrick for his honorary officers' tax collection assignments. As carriage after carriage of goods was sent to Eimis, Wedrick sent more and more men further and further afield, leaving only one tribe of irregulars at full strength in the city.

Had Bluefeather's 11th Tribe and the royal guard not been in charge of the prince's safety, they might've been sent out as well.

The Alliance's commanders weren't aware of this, however. They didn't think they had the spare manpower to take the city. The front was relatively calm, and they didn't want to wake up the sleeping monster. If Bluefeather realised that it had been encircled and tried to break out of it with the two irregular corps, then the two Nasrian standing corps at the rear might have a hard time holding it back. Their plans would've been foiled if they were discovered.

But they didn't know that only three tribes were left in Eimis. Otherwise, they would've simply sent a folk to take the city and seal off Bluefeather's escape.

The Alliance informant in Eimis had been on his way to deliver his information at one point, but he was caught by one of the patrols. He was beaten nine-tenths into the underworld, then left for dead. A passing farmwife saved him, however, but the Battle of Efenasburg had concluded by the time he was healthy enough to risk the journey.

The battle broke out on the 3rd of the 10th month. Bluefeather was first attacked by the duchies' four corps and their counterattack managed to drive the enemy ten kilometres back all the way to Efenasburg. The report sent to Prince Wedrick that night emphasised the expected cowardice and lack of training of the enemy. They managed to kill over ten thousand enemies in a day and suffered only some two thousand casualties, which only further bolstered their confidence that they would be able to take their enemies out within the next ten days and take Efenasburg.

The prince held a celebratory banquet after receiving the news and invited all commissioned officers to participate. He toasted the crowd and toasted Bluefeather's amazing victory and prayed for their early success in eradicating Sidins. The guests answered the toast with glee and they all ended up dead drunk.

Prince Wedrick didn't only know how to play and slack off. He was actually very sharp. A tribe of irregulars from Chanyalar ran into the Nasrian forces who were on their way to attack Bluefeather. Only a few officers made it back on horseback.

It was now the afternoon of the 4th of the 10th month. The survivors reported their encounter to the prince, who had just awoken. The prince looked at the map of Sidins and decided in less than ten minutes for his attendants to pack his luggage and his royal guard tribe to escort him away from Eimis.

11th Tribe's officers watched as the prince's men rushed their escape as if their arses were on fire. They discarded anything too heavy to bring with them and hurriedly left the city for Audin Mountain Range on 50 fully loaded carriages.

When 11th Tribe's tribesman, Major Jebson, received the news, he rushed to the gates and stopped the prince's convoy and asked whether his tribe should follow. The prince ordered the tribe to stay put and defend the city and handed all administration to him while he left the city himself in the name of transporting the spoils back to the national treasury.

Fortunately, Jebson was a stellar soldier. While he was rather confused at the prince's sudden departure, he noticed that something was amiss and hurriedly sent for patrols around the four gates of the city. When he received a report about the officers that returned haggardly, he hurriedly returned to the city hall and found the officers who were at a loss as to what to do following the prince's departure.

He heard what they had to say and checked the map out and immediately understood the reasoning behind the prince's actions. He cursed out loud, not for the sudden departure of the prince, but for his selfish behaviour. He spent the whole afternoon packing up and expropriating carriages and horses without bothering to inform Bluefeather about it. Currently, the three corps they had on the frontlines were in grave danger from being encircled by the enemy.

Major Jebson sent out three tents of messengers right away and ordered them to inform Bluefeather about it no matter what. On his side, he had 11th Tribe fortify the city's defenses and sent out a few tents of mounted scouts to check on enemy troops movements and the locations of the scattered irregular corps that were sent to collect taxes to order them to drop whatever they were doing and return to defend Eimis.

After the chain of orders, Jebson finally let out a relieved breath. The thought of the departed prince gave him another urge to curse out. At that moment, inspiration struck and he thought of a problem. He called for his guards urgently and ordered the two of them to ride to Audin Mountain Range to see whether Prince Wedrick's carriages had entered the mountain range.

At that moment, 11th Tribe was completely occupied. The four clans were sent to guard the four gates of the city respectively, bolstering the city's defenses so that it wouldn't fall upon first contact with the enemy. Major Jebson also ordered what remained of the irregulars from Chanyalar to maintain order within the city while transferring some more experienced officers and their subordinates to be reserves for 11th Tribe.

Amidst all that chaos, Claude suddenly found that his keepers wasn't assigned anything at all. That was mainly because the officers were more than aware of the type of men Claude had in his unit and didn't bother to consider him in their defensive plans at all.

So, Claude decided to ask Second Lieutenant Most what he should do with his keeper band. In his eyes, his men were the most effective and accurate shooters with the Aubass Mark 3 and had trained with live rounds before. They should be able to perform quite well in defensive operations.

But he found that he came to camp at a bad time. The tribesman and some other officers were greatly enraged at the unreliable prince. Their messengers had informed them that when the prince's cohort arrived at Audin Mountain Range, their carriages were too loaded and had a hard time scaling the mountains. As such, he actually ordered a tribe of Chanyalar irregulars defending the place to leave their post and help with moving the carriages!

Fortunately, the major had considered that as a factor and sent some guards to ask about it. The word they got back was that Audin was completely undefended now. The prince was dragging them down once more! Every officer that had heard that couldn't help but curse.

Eimis was only a few kilometers away from Audin Mountain Range and controlling Eimis was akin to controlling the entrance to the range. But there was still some distance between the two locales and now, the prince had brought the tribe of soldiers defending the range away with him. The entryway to the mountain paths was completely unguarded.

If an enemy sent a tent of men to occupy the entrance to the range and took over the empty defensive fortifications there, it would be over for the Aueran troops. They would have no more escape route. Even a small number of men defending the mountain range was enough, since the kingdom's troops would be pursued by enemies from behind. That would be the last straw for the troops' survival.

Some mounted scouts returned to report that some officers of the Chanyalar irregulars encountered a separate folk of Nasrian forces heading Eimis' way. Yet, the troops within the city were still far less than one folk and it had to rely on 11th Tribe for defense. As for Chanyalar's irregulars, the officers of Bluefeather didn't think they were capable in combat at all.

What troubled Jebson the most was that he couldn't send some troops from 11th Tribe to defend Audin, not a single band. He wouldn't be able to be relieved by sending the irregulars there either, as he was afraid that they would run the moment an attack came. Nobody trusted in their abilities in the slightest.

And Claude happened to walk right into all that. Jebson's eyes brightened when he saw him enter and cried, "It'll have to be you!"

Quite a number of officers had seen the combat simulation at Fokby Hill and instantly found Claude's keeper band to be the best fit for the operation. Since they didn't include them in the defense of the city, they could send them to defend the entrance of Audin Mountain Range.

That was the first official order Claude received as a bandsman. He led his men along with a band of irregulars commanded by Second Lieutenant Most to the mountain range.

Chapter 212 - Nosedive

Prince Wedrick escaped Eimis in the afternoon of the 4th. Major Jebson only found out that evening. Claude left for the pass with his band that night as well. A Nasrian folk arrived at Eimis at midnight. They held off their attack until the next morning.

Had it not been for the Chanyalar irregulars the enemy had captured, Nasri wouldn't have sent another folk there. According to some of the testimonies, it was said that one Bluefeather tribe and another tribe of royal guards were in the city. The interrogator found it weird and asked for more details, only to learn that the precious second son of Stellin X was present as the king's representative.

It wasn't uncommon for representatives to monitor army operations, but they were supposed to do so from far behind friendly lines. The officers argued a whole day when they heard this news. Some wanted to charge into Eimis and capture the prince immediately. He would be quite the bargaining chip, and might just get them a beneficial peace.

Others were dead set against breaking ranks and marching into what had to be the enemy command post on their own. If they move out of position, the encirclement of the enemy army would be broken and they themselves would be direly exposed so far away from support at Eimis.

Even if the enemy army didn't exploit the whole in their formations their absence would create and just marched back to Eimis when they heard of their move, they would be sandwiched between the city's walls and the enemy army.

Some of the Chanyalar irregulars were also still loose. They were no doubt on their way to the nearest friendly position to let them know what was going on. There was no stopping the enemy of finding out about their moves. Setting aside the dire threat a withdrawal of the enemy army would pose, at the very least the prince was not likely to still be in the city by the time they arrived.

They also argued that, while the second prince would indeed be a valuable captive, if for nothing other than the sheer national embarrassment his capture would be, and the damage it would do to enemy morale on all the fronts, he would not be as valuable as he might have been were he the second prince of any other kingdom; if anything, his capture was more likely to seal their fate. During the last war, the Duchy of Berkeley captured the crown prince. They sent emissaries to Stellin IX to sue for peace with the prince as a bargaining chip; but, rather than negotiate, the king marched his entire army into the duchy and wiped it clean of every trace of the nobility.

In the end the officers decided to stick to the original plan. They could not ignore the men that had gotten away, so they sent a folk to Eimis to lock it down and keep the enemy from coordinating a retreat of the army.

The general emphasised time and again when giving orders that their mission was to hold the enemy back, keeping them in the city. They were not there to take the city, so if things got too dangerous, they should withdraw.

But the closer they got to Eimis, the more Chanyalar irregulars returning from their tax collection assignments they captured. In the end, the commander received confirmation that only three tribes were left in the city. He was one of the officers who had argued in favour of taking the city.

Sometimes, however, the opportunity to attack vanished before anyone noticed. Had he ordered an attack the moment they arrived, he would have taken the city. The city's loss would have all but undone the entire campaign for Aueras.

Because they held back, however, many of the irregulars made it back to the city and reorganised under the 11th Tribe.

The Nasrians finally attacked late the next morning. They were ill-prepared for a siege, however, and made no gains. They suffered especially severely under the city's cannons.

It took an hour for the Nasrian commander to feel something was off. He guessed the enemy's numbers at three folks based on the stiff resistance, and gave up on taking the city. He pulled back from the walls and laid siege instead.

That noon, the two port cities came under attack. Neither of the cities' defenders could hold and withdrew to the docks. Less than two lines made it out.

By six in the evening, four messengers had broken through and made it to General Feliput.

The general immediately turned the army around and pushed back towards Eimis. He sent a screening force against the enemy to cover their retreat, but it only bought them the night. The screening force broke early the next morning and the enemy poured through after the army.

The orderly, if hasty, withdrawal quickly became a full-blown retreat, bordering on a route in several places. They were surrounded. Behind them were 200 thousand men, to their east were two corps ready to strike at their flank, and to their west two more corps returning from taking the port cities.

One night was only enough to withdraw to a relatively favourable position on the tops of several hills a dozen or so kilometres behind them and set up some basic defense-works. It was a better position than what they'd occupied before the retreat, but it was still far from good. They were still almost entirely encircled. If they lost connection to Eimis, their supplies would go as well, and they would inevitably be forced to surrender.

A surrender meant a lifetime of shame. Their careers would be over. They would also most likely be disowned by their families, if they even still lived when they returned. The decision was made to make a mad dash through the still forming lines in their rear and try to break through and withdraw to Eimis.

It took eleven days and sacrificing all but 40 thousand men, most of whom were badly injured and combat ineffective regardless, but they finally broke through and made it back to the city. Half of the officers were dead, and all of the irregulars had been lost. General Feliput himself was bedridden by multiple injuries, each nearly life-threatening on their own.

Claude spent all that time in the pass with his men being food for mosquitoes. Lieutenant Most took over the downslope defenses with his band of irregulars, leaving Claude to fortify their upslope positions, especially the four cannons.

The breakout happened soon after they finished their work and Nasrian scouts started showing up periodically. They all became fertiliser.

Claude spent most of his evening counting stars as he waited for sleep to free him from his boredom. Several hundred men came their way a day or two after the battle ended, all deserters, and they were sent to the lieutenant for punishment. Word came several days later that Bluefeather had withdrawn to Eimis.

Chapter 213 - Conclusion of Battle

The battle the Alliance called the Triumph of Efenasburg was known by the Aueras as the Breakthrough of Amilia Plains. There was no real victor on either side. Even though the Alliance claimed they won, nobody could deny their victory was pyrrhic.

The duke of Sidins, Duke Furilanz, said that if they had two more such 'victories', the duchy would expire without anyone attacking them. The battles had taken place within Sidins' borders after all, and they were no doubt the ones that suffered the most. The duchy had expended most of their wealth and military supplies. Other things aside, the food alone it cost to feed the 300 thousand plus troops of the Alliance cost an astronomical amount.

Historians of the future styled that battle simply as the Battle of Efenasburg for a fairer assessment. During that battle, Aueras lost near 160 thousand troops, having a third of their total number as casualties with more dead than injured. Aueran bravery and sacrificial spirit for their kingdom were there for all to see and they weren't just bragging when they said they were invincible in the east of the continent.

Among the casualties, 50 thousand were captured. It was worth noting that most of the captives the Alliance had were from the three irregular corps; just four thousand came from Bluefeather proper, and they were only captured because they were too injured to continue fighting or retreat. Bluefeather had shown its might as one Aueras' trump cards. However, as it was the main force in the breakthrough, it suffered the most casualties. Less than ten thousand men had returned to Eimis.

The Alliance's encirclement came together and they annihilated most of Chanyalar's irregulars, but they didn't achieve their main objective. Bluefeather was dealt a harsh blow, but it wasn't finished off and even managed to escape. Thanks to their stubborn resistance and charge, the allied forces ended up suffering even more casualties during the ten-odd days of desperation, causing them to be ultimately unable to reclaim Eimis. They entered another stalemate after the Aueran troops replenished themselves at the city.

Naturally, the nation in the Alliance that lost the most troops was Sidins, whose troops made up the main force of the encirclement. The three duchies' corps were only there to help and they didn't want to force Bluefeather into a corner lest it lashed out at them like a wild beast. The moment they found their casualties rising after the attack, they relegated themselves to a more passive, supportive role. They hoped that the Nasrian forces on the other side would weather most of Bluefeather's attack and keep them in Amilia Plains so they would eventually surrender after running out of supplies. That was the ideal scenario.

That was why Sidins did most of the pursuing from the back. In terms of military training and organization, the troops of Sidins couldn't compare to the disciplined Auerans, especially after most of their elite troops at the two defence lines at Audin Mountain Range had surrendered. Most of the troops Sidins had at that time were urgent conscripts of farmers and artisans. Though they were superior in quantity, they were not able to match up in quality. The losses nearing 100 thousand men during the incessant attacks also caused morale to fall heavily.

The other party that suffered huge losses was Nasri and their two corps. While they had sent out a folk of troops to keep the defending troops in Eimis occupied and had seven other folks to block the escape route of the three enemy corps, they didn't think Bluefeather would resort to such a desperate charge to break out of the encirclement. Following wave after wave of nonstop attacks, the first defence line was no longer able to weather the death charge of Bluefeather and eventually, an opening showed itself and allowed the forces to pour out.

The Nasrian forces were the only ones who could match Aueras in terms of combat ability, but they were far less amazing than Bluefeather. The commander of the Nasrian forces was an experienced veteran who ordered his troops to back down at a decent pace to keep the charging Bluefeather troops contained while they set up one defence line after another behind. They wanted to make sure the enemy could see the endless rows of defences before them and take advantage of space and time to wear them down until they despaired.

It was too bad their allies didn't play along with their plan. Had the four duchies on the rear end attacked without regard for casualties, Bluefeather and the two irregular corps wouldn't have managed to last that long. But the three duchies were scared after the casualties incurred during first contact and stopped playing an active role, leaving Sidins to do most of the work.

The forces of Sidins were also powerless to do much and suffered huge losses themselves. Their attacks could be easily fended off by the troops of the irregular corps. Bluefeather didn't even need to take part. Those results only further reinforced the three other duchies' troops to conserve their own. They weren't willing to take too many losses. The lack of constant pressure in the encirclement allowed the Auerans some breathing room, giving them enough time to conserve their energy for the final charge.

The Nasrians had to pay the price for their pathetic allies. They tried their utmost best, but were still unable to stop the charge led by Bluefeather. After the battle ended, the rulers of Nasri almost cried at the sight of the casualty report. Their two standing corps lost 70 to 80 thousand of their 120 thousand men. More than 30 thousand died even though the Auerans didn't clean up the battlefield and finished off the remaining injured they could find.

After the breakthrough, the Alliance's troops marched their way to Eimis and the commanders of the duchy suggested for an attack to be mounted on the city immediately while the Auerans only managed to supply their irregular corps. Perhaps they could even chase them out of the duchy and reclaim Audin Mountain Range as well.

The suggestion was a correct one, but the commander of the Nasrian forces turned it down. When the allied forces gathered, the Nasrians were flipping mad when they saw that the forces of the other duchies were left mostly intact. Even though they had tried so hard to stop Bluefeather from breaking through, the ones at the back were mostly slacking off and even complained about the alleged losses they suffered. If losing a tribe or two was considered a huge loss, then the two Nasrian corps should be considered utterly decimated!

It wasn't that an attack on Eimis was out of the question, but the Nasrian forces had decided that they would sit it out. They believed that they weren't able to mount another attack after the losses they have suffered and left the task to the three other duchies. Their forces combined numbered six corps and they should have no issue taking care of the irregulars Aueras hobbled together to defend the city. Even though there were 50 thousand men inside the city, most of them were injured or beaten troops that managed to break out of the encirclement. They should've been powerless before the united forces of the three duchies.

Theoretically, it sounded plausible. But the commanders of the three duchies began to fuss after receiving reports of how well fortified the city was. The two irregular Aueran corps that just came to reinforce the city erected an iron defence around it. The scouts saw 18 cannons alone and that wasn't something the attackers were willing to readily take. Their losses were sure to be high if they mounted an attack.

The three duchies then turned their sights to Sidins, but Duke Furilanz expressed that even though he was eager to reclaim lost land, he was powerless to do so with the two corps he so hastily combed together. He needed more time to train the three newly formed corps in Efenasburg to qualified soldiers and also required weapons and supplies from the three duchies.

Since even the Duke of Siddins had admitted that it was beyond him to take Eimis back, the three corps who were there as guests naturally didn't take the show. It didn't take long before people forgot about the suggestion altogether. That was how the 400 thousand plus allied forces got into a stalemate with the Auerans, that numbered only 160 thousand men.

Word of Bluefeather and the two irregular corps being encircled in Amilia Plains had spread to the Aueran capital. The ministry of the army was in total chaos. Nobody could've predicted that, and people were scrambling to push responsibility onto other scapegoats. Had it not been for the king himself visiting the ministry, the chaos might've lasted even longer.

After listening to the reports by a few high-ranked officials, Stellin X turned his sights on Eimis. He ordered for the two irregular corps who were just about to head to Botarnia to aid Reddragon and Griffon to head for Kafreizit right away and invade Sidins. Their mission was to keep Eimis secured no matter what and wait for reinforcements to arrive.

As for the three encircled corps, they were to rely on themselves to get out of their troubling predicament. The kingdom wasn't able to gather enough forces for such an undertaking at the moment and they wouldn't be able to rush there in time either. Stellin X could only choose to keep the enemy from taking Eimis back so that the kingdom still had some foothold in Sidins for a future counterattack.

On the third day Bluefeather and the rest attempted their breakthrough, the two irregular corps arrived at Eimis. They didn't rescue their encircled allies and instead set up camp on two sides of the city per Stellin X's orders before beginning work on defensive fortifications that allowed them to hold their ground firmly.

During the month following the Battle of Efenasburg, the number of Aueran forces at Eimis was around 300 thousand with the arrival of the reinforcements. They no longer had to worry about the enemy's 400 plus thousand. By then, the results of Bluefeather's campaign in Sidins had been sent to the kingdom and they soon received a reply.

Prince Wedrick was harshly admonished by Stellin X and grounded for three months so that he could mull over his mistake. The battered Bluefeather returned to Kafreizit for reorganisation, and General Feliput retired from his injuries. The chief strategist of the corps, Lieutenant-General Edbak took over as acting general and started rebuilding Bluefeather.

What remained of the troops and officers of the two irregular corps encircled with Bluefeather was absorbed into the latter. As Chanyalar's irregular corps didn't contribute much to the battles, the generals and line commanders were relieved of their duties and put under investigation to see whether their actions violated military regulations. Those deemed to be innocent would be able to continue to serve, but they would be demoted by one rank and left to Bluefeather.

Stellin X also announced that Prince Hansbach, who was overseeing the western front, would come to take over the eastern front. The royal guard corps was also ordered to march into Sidins. The kingdom had decided to enter a decisive battle with the allied forces at Eimis once and for all to wash away the shame and humiliation they had suffered.

Those developments didn't affect Claude much. Sometimes, he felt that he was really fortunate for not having to go to the frontlines with most of the other troops. He stayed at the rear lines for months without firing a single bullet.

The problem was, he soon realised he had been completely forgotten. Even after Bluefeather had retreated to Kafreizit, he was still guarding the pass of Audin Mountain Range and hadn't received any orders to return. In the end, he heard from Perunt, who was among the last batch to leave Eimis, that his unit had been put under the banner of the keeper tribe of Eimis for some reason.

Chapter 214 - The Keeper Band worth Two Bottles of Wine

It all began when Second Lieutenant Most, put in charge of the defenses in the mountain range, was ordered to take the irregulars and the captured deserters and return to Gourneygada. Oddly enough, the message didn't make any mention of Claude's keepers, who were watching the pass' entrance. Claude had little choice but to head to Eimis and ask about what was going on.

His orders, however, remained the same: stay put. The 11th Tribe was about to withdraw to Kafreizit to reorganise, resupply, and reinforce. His healers were still needed in Eimis. Claude's force was the only one still fully intact, and so he had to stay to hold the pass.

He thus returned to his post and continued counting stars at night. The two months that followed were not entirely soulless. He had to check everyone that came and went through the pass, and the kingdom was constantly moving supplies and men back and forth. And the post, for all its boredom, did come with perks.

If anyone was transporting alcohol or extraneous supplies, for example, they had to pay a fee for using the pass since they were not essential military supplies. The keepers kept a good portion of it for themselves, and nobles seemed to be unable to abstain from such luxuries, so it was a lucrative business. Claude's personal share of the fees, which was not insubstantial, netted him about a crown in the first month, and about as much the second.

The end of their second month saw Perunt packing up and returning to Kafreizit with most of the injured. Claude tried to tag along, but Perunt said he'd been ordered explicitly to move only his personnel and the injured. From what he'd heard, Eimis was to get a new local keeper unit and Claude would be put under their command.

Claude didn't know he'd been abandoned by his unit, so he had little choice but to obey. Bluefeather was undergoing extensive restructuring, and his unit had been pressed into campaign before they were officially instated.

He'd gotten all the failures, and now that the unit was being restructured, it made sense they'd want to get rid of such an underwhelming, unnecessary, and unwanted group of men. Neither Claude nor any of his men had fought alongside any of the rest of the unit, either. They had no bonds and had not proven their abilities in real combat. No one thus felt any compunction to give them the benefit of the doubt. No one wanted to offend Claude's backers by taking his unit away from him, however, and on top of that they didn't want to handle such a hot potato, so they took the easy way out and tossed him into a small, new, keeper unit far away from everywhere else in the kingdom, quite literally cut off from it by a mountain range.

Claude was completely flabbergasted. He'd been moved from one of the kingdom's most renowned and respected forces to a backwater, barely held, recently conquered city quite literally cut off from the rest of the kingdom. He'd gone from an up-and-coming soldier, rapidly climbing through the ranks, to a stooge in a dead-end job, forgotten by everyone.

This was unreasonable! He had only heard of local forces being absorbed into forces like Bluefeather. He'd never heard of standing army units being kicked out to pasture in small, local backwaters!

Perunt wasn't happy to leave him behind either, but orders were orders. He had his guesses as to why this was being done, but he knew better than to blather, lest they decide Eimis might have need of someone of his skillset as well.

"It's not that bad when you look at it this way. Bluefeather will be on the battlefield in a couple of months again. You won't have to march with them, though. You've got a nice and safe job watching this pass."

Perunt had a point, Claude had to admit. He sent the man off and hitched a ride to Eimis with Moriad and Berklin to meet his new superiors.

The local keeper tribe's HQ was a small two-storey building just a couple down from the ruined city hall. Claude was quickly informed that right now the unit was only a clan strong, and most of them were already on duty manning the city gates since the city had nothing in the way of town guards at the moment.

The captain in charge was a man named Wardlov. The man demanded a name list for Claude's unit the moment the youth stepped into his office. He sent for someone to replace Claude immediately as well, since Claude didn't have the appropriate rank for his command.

Claude didn't mind losing his command. He only wanted to maintain control over his sharpshooters.

Claude handed the list Perunt had prepared for him before his departure to the captain. He'd shaken so much when the man had taken it out. It had been physical confirmation that he'd been put out to pasture.

The captain flipped through the dossier quickly, then stared at Claude, flinging the papers onto his desk.

"What is the deal with your band? Are these profiles real?"

The files noted the comments of the instructors during the training session. The files of each and every member of the keeper band were filled with bad comments and stamps that marked their failure status. Only Claude and the four nobles as well as the three corporals and one sergeant transferred from Most's unit were considered normal.

Claude could only smile bitterly for having accepted such a ridiculous assignment. It was quite ironic that he went all the way to Sidins with his failures and remained in Eimis the whole time without suffering any losses, while the normal combat units were almost completely annihilated.

"I'm sure you've noticed, Sir, but my unit is full of failures. They only mastered reloading, shooting, standing guard at outposts, and patrolling. They don't know anything else, including getting in line, not to mention volley fire. That's why the tribe had us hold the pass. These are the better ones, though. The stretcher bearers that left earlier today were completely useless even as sentries."

"I know about that stretcher unit," Wardlov interrupted, "They're working as labourers at the warehouses and even caused quite a mess yesterday. They caused a lot of stacked up supplies to topple when a fight for food erupted and two died as a result."

"Uhh..." Claude was speechless. It was no wonder he didn't see any trace of the stretcher troops when Perunt visited. Bluefeather also gave up on the stretcher unit and left them to rot in Eimis too.

Though, it was admittedly hard to argue with that decision. The mentally challenged stretcher troops were nothing but burdens for Bluefeather and it only made sense to get rid of them during a reorganisation effort. They had been drafted to fill the local recruit quotas in the first place and they couldn't just be cast aside. But after suffering such huge losses, crossing out their names from the list was no difficult task for Bluefeather and they wouldn't let go of that opportunity to rid themselves of that burden. It wasn't like the fools could actually make a complaint anyway.

Claude couldn't be bothered with their problems. He wasn't cold-hearted, but he never claimed to be a saint. Since Wardlov said that they were working as laborers, Claude would leave them to their own devices. What he was mainly concerned with was whether he could finally return to Bluefeather after the captain took over his band.

Wardlov cursed Major Jebson for taking two bottles of fine wine for the allegedly powerful keeper company.

The three junior officers stared at each other, their mouths agape and their eyes dark. Was their entire band worth just 2 bottles of wine?

It took several minutes for the cursing to stop, but it did eventually, and Captain Wardlov turned his attention back to the three junior officers.

"You're called Claude, right? I'll let you keep your command and post. We'll let you know if your orders change."

"I do not have the rank for this position, Sir. It's only appropriate that someone else take over. I wish to return to Bluefeather anyway."

"Negative," Wardlov said firmly, "I paid two bottles of fine wine for you, so you better not think of leaving me with this--" He jabbed a finger at the dossier. "--mess anytime soon. I'm told you're the one that trained them. So you are the perfect man to keep an eye on them. Sit on that pass until I tell you otherwise; and don't cause me any trouble!"

"I object! I want an appeal!" Claude fumed.

The hell they were worth just two bottles of wine! He alone had made more money than that in just a day of traffic checks!

"Appeal denied! Tell me, Claude. What are the three duties of a soldier?"

"Obey, Sir."

"And the second?"

"Obey, Sir."

"And the third?"

"Obey... Sir."

"Very good. You have no excuse to disobey my orders. You will not march from that pass to so much as piss unless I order you to. Do you understand? And I don't want to hear about Bluefeather ever again.

"Speaking of blue feathers. I don't want to see those feathers in your caps ever again either. And get rid of those damned sashes. You're my keepers now, I will not have you wearing Bluefeather uniforms or insignia. My men don't waste time or money on costumes. You're soldiers, not peacocks!"

The three were sent out sans feathers and sashes in a daze.

"What do we do now, Chief?" Berklin asked.

"We suck it up!" Claude snapped.

Screw that damn Wardlov! Since he wanted Claude out of his sight, since he wanted him to sit on that pass, then he would do so. He would sit there and look down on the city until he was let go, he would not march from that pass if it was not to return to Bluefeather. Even if the city was burning he would not move an inch!

"Let's go claim our supplies and salaries. I want to get out of here. If I never set foot in this godforsaken shithole ever again it would be too soon."

"Alright, but can he hold off on return for a few hours? I want to hit the taverns," Berklin pleaded.

"Go ahead, but I'm heading back now. Be back before nightfall though. I don't want any trouble, you hear?"

"Yes, Chief."

Chapter 215 - Prince Hansbach

Claude and his keepers spent new year's eve of 577, in the pass. Had it not been for the logistics department sending them two cartloads of special gifts, he would've forgotten it even was new year's.

Eimis' keeper tribe's acting tribesman, Captain Wardlov, had a short fuse. He was an attentive superior. It took him a while to cool off after realising how badly he'd been screwed over by Major Jebson, but he eventually did and came by for a visit. Claude took the opportunity to ask for a munitions budget to continue their training. He argued it made no sense to not continue their firing training since that was all at which they were good.

They didn't only have to watch the people crossing the mountain range. They patrolled the mountains from time to time as well. Snow had been coming down as well and the days were getting cold. Luckily, their new year's gifts included their winter uniforms. Claude also had the men build snow walls around their post to keep the wind out.

Also among the gifts was a bottle of fruit wine, two pieces of jerky, and two random pieces of fruit for each soldier. It was meagre, but the city was housing 300 thousand soldiers, so he guessed he shouldn't expect much. That said, he couldn't be happy with just this, so he bought supplies for a feast out of pocket: two sheep and two barrels of blackwheat ale.

The convoys started coming over the pass again on the 13th of the 1st month the next year. Countless carriages rolled through their checkpoint every day. Even the nights weren't quiet. Apart from checking whether they had valid papers, Claude's keepers also had to keep the pass in working order, which meant cleaning up the snow.

On the 14th of the 2nd month, the royal guard finally rushed in from the capital. Their keepers took over the pass and relieved Claude and his men. Claude had wanted to see if he could spot Welikro, but a single line was up to five thousand men and took a long time to pass by. He soon found himself worn out. Since his men now had nothing to do, he took them to the woods nearby for a little practice. As actual troops were crossing, Claude didn't allow them to use live rounds. He only had them practice reloading and aiming.

Several mounted officers passed by a while later, and stopped to watch Claude's men as they practiced reloading prone.

Claude called a break an hour later, and a guardsman rode over and told him to follow him to the first prince.

The first prince? Lady Maria couldn't have asked him to watch after Claude as well, could she? No, he had to be overthinking it. The first prince didn't know who he was. He was probably just curious about this unorthodox training.

The first prince, Prince Hansbach, was in his forties. He currently wore the standard royal guard uniform, sans rank insignia. His surrounding officers made it impossible to mistake him for a normal guardsman, however. Their decorations were blinding. Every rank from first lieutenant to lieutenant-general was represented, honourary and official. Half were above majors. Claude had to salute them each one-by-one before he could come to attention and await the prince's address.

"You're that keeper band's bandsman, yes? What's your name?" the prince asked gently.

"I am just their acting bandsman. My name is Claude Ferd."

Hansbach pointed at the guns in the hands of Claude's subordinates.

"I want to ask about the Aubass Mark 3s you were using. Did your superiors force them on you?"

"No, Your Highness. We requested them."

"Oh? I heard many say they're failures and have no use for them."

"A firearm can only be as good as the man wielding it, Your Highness. Those used to the Mark 2s struggle with the Mark 3 because of the changes it makes. Rather than thinking to improve themselves, however, they blame their muskets and refuse to use them. Some have even taken to calling them kink-necks.

"My men know no previous firearms. They know only the Mark 3 and so they have no prejudice against the new design. The weapon's greater accuracy is also ideal for my men since they mostly do sentry or patrol duties and we're not expected to deal with large numbers of enemies," Claude answered carefully.

"Haha, kink-necks!" the prince chuckled, "Reddragon and Griffon call them head-tilters. Kink-necks sounds much better. You talk sense. It's just a matter of getting used to the muskets. How accurate are your men?"

"We can hit an apple up to 50 metres, and a melon up to 80. At a hundred we can hit a man every time easily. Beyond that it gets difficult. It's not my men's fault, however, the problem is the muskets."

"Accurate to a hundred meters? Have them demonstrate with live rounds."

"That won't do, Your Highness! Your safety is our priority!" a lieutenant-colonel cried in shock.

"It's fine, they're our men, not assassins. Don't I have you by my side if something happens, anyway?" the prince smiled nonchalantly, waving the man off.

"Your Highness," Claude chimed carefully, "Your men are still passing by. The sound of musketfire might halt them and hold up the march."

The prince couldn't hold back several short laughs.

"It's fine, they're the royal guard. It would be hilarious if they were halted by a couple shots. I would strip them naked myself and tell them to go back to their mommies."

The officers laughed with the prince.

Hansbach recalled the training.

"Um, whats-your-name... Tell me, why do you have your men reload prone?"

"It's Claude Ferd, Your Highness," Claude answered, somewhat awkwardly.

"Yes, Claude, apologies. Your name's a little too common to remember so easily."

The prince appeared quite approachable, unlike his little brother.

Claude smiled it away and answered his question.

"My men don't fire in volley. They are sharpshooters. They target and fire individually. The key to this tactic is remaining hidden until you fire, and being as small a target afterward. It's rather difficult to do when you're standing upright, and doing so shoulder to shoulder with forty or fifty other people just like you. Lying down lets you do both, so that's what I had the men do."

The prince sank into deep thought for several, long, silent moments.

"Quite a well thought out tactic. Many men fall before they can even fire, and yet more fall after their first shot and before they could finish reloading. Anyway, let's see your tactic in practice."

Claude did as he was told. As his men loaded, Claude noticed the prince's escort closing in around him in a cordon that should protect him from a stray shot or some other danger.

He had each man fire ten rounds, then retrieved the target papers. Most of the shots were neatly clustered around the centre. Even though the targets and target papers were different, they admitted that only the best of the senior soldiers in Reddragon and Griffon could match it.

Prince Hansbach was quite satisfied with the results, but Claude felt the opposite. The troops who hadn't been training much since their stationing on the pass had worsened substantially. It was awkward that the prince forgot Claude's name, but he made sure to ask him for it before he left.

"I thought the first prince would reward us with something for our good results. I didn't think it would be all lip service. How stingy," Berklin complained.

"Dream on," Aboyev chipped in, "He's the first prince, you know! Do you think he'd take gold coins out of his pockets and hand them to us? That's something merchants and rich tycoons do. If he wants to reward us, he'd send someone to bring whatever it is to us tomorrow as a surprise. It's already quite something to earn his praise."

Claude had thought about the prince's interest as something spontaneous anyway, so he didn't think much about their encounter. He didn't think Captain Wardlov would rush to him on horseback the next day.

"Did you do something wrong yesterday?" he asked even before his horse had come to a complete stop.

"Mistake? I don't recall anything like that. I didn't do anything," he answered, puzzled.

The captain looked like he was about to explode.

"Didn't do anything?! Then why did Prince Hansbach send people to wake me up in the middle of the night to give him your unit's dossier? I would've come looking for you then if the gates weren't already locked!"

Huh? The prince asked for their dossier? What on Freia could have prompted such interest?

"You really have a fool's fortune--" Wardlov shot Claude an envious glance. "--It's incredibly obvious you've earned the prince's favour! You're going to have a bright future, my boy. Heck, if I didn't trade two bottles of my precious wine for you, you wouldn't have this chance at all! Don't forget me when you're big."

Oh, come on. Why did he always have to bring up those damned bottles of wine? If he really was so sore over it, Claude would just give him five. The bigger concern was the prince's sudden interest in him and his men. Surely he didn't have the intention of making them his guards? He already had so many men.

Two days later, however, Claude received a formal notice of transfer to one of the prince's ranger tribes.

Chapter 216 - Rangers

Claude poked his head out of the muddy trench and looked around. After making sure nothing was amiss, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Myjack and Gum.

"Right here will do. Rest for a while and keep your musket properly. Make sure you hide yourself well. I don't want anyone finding out where you are. Myjack, go to the rear and tell Mod and Berk to hide themselves in our flanks. We'll set up our ambush here."

Claude had been transferred to the ranger tribe two months earlier. The unit used only Aubass Mark 3s. They were essentially a scout and skirmish unit intended to blind the enemy before battle by taking out their scouts, and doing some scouting themselves in the places ordinary scouts couldn't go.

Scouts used to be light cavalry. They'd scour the terrain ahead of armies as they marched to detect any ambushes, scout enemy movements, and find the best routes through difficult terrain. Some armies used scouts purely in a scouting role, having them run away whenever they encountered the enemy. Others thought of scouts as light combat units instead, using them as screening forces in the early stages of battle. Aueras had both. Non-dedicated scouts were usually just random picks from units that served basic scouting duties as needed, and dedicated units specialised in scouting and counter-scouting. All they did was ride out ahead of the main formations, scout out the terrain and clear it of enemy scouts. On occasion they'd also be employed in battles themselves, though what exactly they did in the battles varied greatly from battle to battle.

They had their greatest impact when it came time to blind the enemy before major moves such as offensives or repositionings. The basic scout unit was a three- or four-man team. Typical tens had three to four such teams. Scouts were usually deployed by tent, and would split into their teams on their own to achieve their objectives.

Fighting enemy scouting elements was very difficult. They usually shed everything but the most essential equipment to maximise their mobility and stealth. So catching them once they knew you were coming for them was almost impossible. The ideal way of combating mounted scouts was to counter them with one's own in mounted melee combat, since firearms weren't effective thanks to their mobility.

It didn't help that the Alliance generally had scouts superior to Aueras'. They'd fought many wars and had a long tradition and excellent doctrine. Despite the rarity of serious scout skirmishes, Aueras had lost five hundred mounted scouts in the five months since the stalemate had settled in, and that was just in this particular front.

Prince Hansbach stopped all scouting activities the moment he arrived. There was no point to fighting this war of attrition if there was no imminent reason to. They weren't planning any immediate offensives, so there was no point in sending their mounted scouts out to die.

"We cannot match Canas' light cavalry in either horsemanship or mounted combat. They're natural-born riders. Stellin IX said we can't match them man for man until the numbers are ridiculously large for scouting operations."

Hansbach spoke in his office to a collection of junior and senior officers.

The Duchy of Canas stood on the only plains in Eastern Freia, the Great Plains of Canas. The youth there were natural riders. Aueran troops had heavy-armored riders which specialized in keeping tight formations and interception charges. They were known for their iron-wall-like defence. However, they weren't as good at mounted combat as the Canasian light cavalry.

The prince had long thought of setting up a unit of rangers specifically trained to go against this enemy. Since at least as far back as his first time fighting them with Reddragon and Griffon. The Mark 3 was a golden opportunity to push Aueras' own scouting elements to the match of Canas', but only a few veterans appreciated the firearm's advantage over the older models.

That said, those veterans were beyond deadly. One of them in Reddragon used his Mark 3 to take down an entire cannon battery on his own.

His thoughts were brought to the accurate keeper band in the pass when he arrived. Having seen their prowess, and especially after learning that it had been gained with sub-par individuals, he couldn't stop himself from forming an experimental unit right then and there.

Claude wanted to buy a pill for regret, if such a thing existed, after hearing that he was so spontaneously transferred to the new unit. Why did he always have to be training his men? Couldn't he, just that one time, have let them be? But no, he just had to use every chance he had to train his men, and now he'd been pegged by the first prince.

During his first day in the new unit, Claude heard from the flat-faced lieutenant-colonel that the ranger tribe's mission was to ambush enemy scouts to prevent information about their troops from being discovered. They couldn't afford to let them find out about their movements or troop placements.

While it sounded easy, it was incredibly hard for infantrymen to deal with cavalry. The Aubass Mark 3 was the only gun in the kingdom that could fire accurately and reliably, but it was only accurate up to a hundred meters, a distance which mounted troops only required a few short seconds to cover. There was only one opportunity to shoot before the riders would be on them.

Claude suspected whether the first prince was trying to trade in the lives of infantry to take out cavalry. Even if a foot soldier managed to kill a mounted scout, the rest would mow him down not long after. In a sense, that was a worthwhile trade for the kingdom. Aiming with the Aubass Mark 3 was rather simple after all and the troops only had to hide and wait for the enemy to come. Training a mounted scout on the other hand was much costlier and difficult.

Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do about it. Fortunately for him, the rainy season that would span the first three months of the year was soon coming. Claude still had some time for some simple preparation work to increase the difficulty of his keeper band's training routine and drilling the key points of hiding and retreating on the battlefield to his men. The commanding officer of the ranger tribe, Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley, had the irregulars compete with each other and picked the ones with better shooting accuracy to join the new unit. They would be sent to struggle against the enemy's mounted scouts after the rainy season.

In terms of combat effectiveness, Prince Hansbach's goals were achieved. The enemy scouts were forced to stay in their own zone and could no longer afford to charge carelessly to the back of the lines to inspect troop layouts. They feared the sudden gunshots which meant that the enemy had their eye on them. The subsequent gunshots might mean the sudden loss of another brother or comrade.

But in certain ways, the ranger unit was also a failure. Hansbach had appointed an unqualified officer who wasn't able to bring out the tribe's full potential to command it. He even turned the ranger tribe into a kind of punishment unit. Soldiers who did wrong would be forced to go to the battlefield with the Aubass Mark 3 and only allowed to return to their former unit after killing three enemies and claiming their dog tags.

As a result, the casualty rate of the ranger tribe began to soar as Claude had worried. There was no proper training regime or placement. When the 4th month came and marked the end of the rainy season, Rosley couldn't wait to send the rangers to ambush enemy scouts. During the 4th month alone, the tribe lost a third of its troops. Even though the treatment in the tribe was decent, people no longer volunteered to join it, causing Rosley to have to fill the empty ranks with soldiers who committed mistakes.

Claude's keeper band also lost nearly half its men. Only 27 out of the original 60 were left. Eight of them were bedridden and being treated in Eimis, three among which were crippled. They had their limbs cut off by the enemy scouts and it was already half a miracle that they were still alive at all.

The lucky four nobles were without a scratch, mainly because they obeyed Claude's orders and were also quite sharp-witted themselves. Claude was the ace shooter of his unit and the one who was the easiest to talk to in the tribe. No matter who asked him what they ought to do on the battlefield, he would patiently give them an explanation. Many of the soldiers who made it back to the safety of the camp from the battlefield had heeded his advice, which also caused his reputation to soar. He was the most famous sergeant-major in the ranger tribe.

However, he ended up becoming an eyesore to Rosley. Claude had gotten into conflict with the lieutenant-colonel on three separate occasions. Had he not been the most accomplished shooter in the tribe, Rosley would've ordered the other troops to arrest Claude and have him tried and punished. Perhaps he might even have him killed and made an example out of.

The first conflict had to do with the uniform. Claude believed the bright red uniform and straight army caps were unfit for ambush operations on the battlefield as it would signal danger to the enemy scouts from afar. Ideally, green or a camouflage pattern would be better for their uniforms. He suggested that the lieutenant-colonel submit the proposal to Prince Hansbach for the change.

It sounded like a reasonable request to Claude, since it concerned the safety of his fellow soldiers. He didn't expect that Rosley would explode with rage, however, citing the uniform colours being set since the founding of the kingdom as the reason. Red, according to him, symbolised courage and spirit. Since when did a minor officer like Claude have the right to change the colour of the army's uniforms? He said it almost amounted to treason!

The second conflict was when Claude made a suggestion for the troops to be deployed in small groups, with everyone taking an extra gun along. That way, they would be able to fire twice in succession. By then, Rosley already developed a bias against Claude and saw the suggestion as attempting to supply the enemy with more firearms, since one killed ranger meant giving the enemy two muskets instead of one.

The third argument spawned as a result of the lieutenant-colonel accusing the rangers for slacking off by camping and hiding all day to ambush enemies and returning to camp late at night. He demanded the rangers to return with at least one enemy's dog tag to be allowed to rest for two days or they would have to continue waiting on the battlefield in ambush.

Claude believed it impractical since retrieving the dog tags posed a lot of unnecessary risk for the soldiers. There were situations in which an immediate retreat was necessary after an attack. Claiming the dog tags was out of the question.

Rosley fumed again and ordered Claude to claim at least ten enemy dog tags in the next week or not be allowed any rest at all.

Chapter 217 - Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley

Claude would never act as the brainless fool wanted and fight the Alliance's scouts with a single musket. The enemy usually operated in groups of three and four as well, and killing one didn't guarantee the rest wouldn't just charge up and kill you, especially when your red uniform was so eye-catching in the green wilderness. Many rangers were killed in vain because they were unable to blend in with their environment.

Too bad the moustached officer didn't agree with Claude. Was military tradition so important? More important than the lives of the troops? Claude didn't know why Prince Hansbach would send someone so frustrating to take charge of the tribe.

The man might have accepted the mission out of loyalty to the prince, but he wasn't suited to leading rangers. There was no training routine or strategy at all, to say nothing about revisiting successful ambushes to see what worked and incorporating it into the doctrine. All he did was shoo the soldiers to the battlefield. He only cared about the number of enemies killed, not the number of his own men lost.

Perhaps in his eyes, exterminating the enemy was the best way to fulfill the task he'd been given. Nothing else was important. That was also why he kept fighting with Claude all the time. Claude didn't want to see his men killed meaninglessly.

Rosley knew Claude was the tribe's ace. He'd collected 43 dog tags all on his own, and he'd not done that for all of his kills either. If his unretrieved, but witnessed kills were included in the count, he had almost a hundred thus far.

Claude had enough merit to be a second lieutenant by now, but Rosley was not about to give him that satisfaction. He'd not reported any of his successes yet, and had even trumped up his few minor mistakes.

The thought of the little shit being promoted to second lieutenant while still five years younger than Rosley had scared him. It had taken him seven more years to make it to major, and another seven to make lieutenant-colonel. This was his first full command of such importance, and he was not about to let it be ruined by a young shit, talented or not.

He was already 43. If he wasn't promoted to a general of one type or another by 50, he would have to retire. He couldn't stand the thought. He wasn't a noble so leaving the army would leave him with nothing. Power and wealth would forever be out of his reach, and, even if he did make it to the rank of full colonel and earned a great pension, it wouldn't provide him with the noble lifestyle for which he so yearned. He wanted to try even harder and be promoted to at least lieutenant-general, which would make him a member of the new nobility.

He didn't really care for the ranger tribe itself at all. It was just a stepping stone on his path to glory. He was also a traditionalist, so he didn't like the idea of ambushing the enemy and sniping them from a distance. It was dishonourable in his eyes. He believed soldiers should march in lines, guns raised, and fight battles on epic proportions. Even if they lost, they should do so with pride. They shouldn't show any weakness or cowardice. Most of the kingdom's army stood on his side.

He couldn't let the prince down, however, so he'd accepted this posting. He hated what the unit was trying to do, but he would not disobey the prince's orders. It helped that this was his chance to finally break into the ranks of the general staff.

Two decades into his career, he was no fool, even if he had been one when he'd gotten started. He knew Claude's suggestions were practical and would greatly improve the unit, but it would not benefit him. If he implemented the suggestions, it would inevitably reveal the little shit's skill and intelligence and the shit would take all the glory.

Prince Hansbach had no scruples with promoting someone outside of the traditional path if he felt the person merited it. There was every chance he'd break tradition and relieve Rosley of his command in favour of the little shit. If he became a second lieutenant at his tender 20 years, then, barring a career-ending disaster, he was all but guaranteed to be pushed straight to captain and put in charge of the entire tribe. He'd already been given a second lieutenant's command as a sergea-major before, so this would not be the first time he'd been pushed into larger commands than his rank technically allowed.

Rosley would not have a future if he lost this command. This command was important, but it in and of itself was not so great for his career, so the losing of this particular command wouldn't be so devastating. What would be so devastating was the loss of the command. Once you were unceremoniously relieved of command, your career had been all but frozen; and frozen career did not have the habit of thawing.

His only option, thus, was to keep Claude under everyone's radar and rob him of every chance of shining.

It was all quite laughable. A lieutenant-colonel and commanding officer had to be wary of a puny sergeant-major. Regardless, Rosley did not dare off Claude for good. While it was easy to punish Claude with military regulations, he couldn't kill him outright; he simply didn't have an excuse.

Additionally, Claude was being watched by the prince. If he asked about the little shit one day and learnt of his death penalty sanctioned by military regulation, he would definitely investigate. It would only take a couple poignant questions to find out the truth, and that would not end well for Rosley. More than anything else, the prince hated people who betrayed their allies for personal gain.

Rosley had prayed for Claude's death daily since he'd realised how dangerous he was. Him dying on some patrol would be best. Once the little shit was dead he could safely pose the kids' suggestions to his superiors as his own and take all the glory.

Fate had yet to answer his prayers. The shit always returned unharmed. He completed even the hardest assignments he'd been given. Rosley had once just started celebrating the little shit's death, only to see him return with seven dog tags a couple days later. At least he'd been able to deny him any merit as 'punishment' for returning late.

He'd set the tribe's internal regulations himself, and had carefully crafted them to keep Claude from gaining merit as much as possible. For one, rangers could only be out in the field for two consecutive days. They had to return before midnight on the second day. A dog tag earned you two days of rest after a mission, more didn't matter, but less had you head out again the next morning. Some units had taken to sending men to the rangers as punishment. Those would be sent out on missions until they gathered a determined number of dog tags before being allowed to return to their units.

Claude once tried to talk about how unreasonable Rosley's regulations were, but he smartly ignored him. Performance was all that mattered. There was no gain without enough pain. His only concession had been two days rest for those that brought back at least one dog tag.

A unit meant to revolutionise warfare as people knew it was thusly converted into a penal unit instead. Along with the soldiers sent there for punishment, other volunteered their service, greedy for merits and money. Rosley was very happy with this development. A silver for the life of an enemy scout was a bargain as far as he was concerned. He didn't care about his losses either.

Claude was his polar opposite. He couldn't bear to watch allies die, regardless of what they achieved in exchange for their lives. He'd fought with Rosley countless times to get him to adopt tactics that would lower the casualty rate, but the bastard just wouldn't listen. The bastard just hid in the camp while he sent his men out to die on his behalf.

At the moment, Claude was hiding in an abandoned field with three teams of rangers. Had the war never happened, the land would be full of wheat, almost ready for the autumn harvest. The war had happened, however, and the field was choked by weeds instead.

It made for good hiding regardless.

They were hiding in a dry irrigation ditch. Claude had abandoned his red hat, and had forbidden his men from wearing their hats either. He couldn't get them to wear something other than their uniforms, as that would be a court-martialable offense, but he could at least make their heads harder to spot, at least when they were hidden in trenches and ditches like this. They wore grass hats covered in branches and twigs instead.

As the saying went, 'war is a soldier's greatest teacher'. The only problem was that, while the enemy was indeed learning, as was Claude, his damn bastard of a superior refused to learn anything at all. Claude felt another cloud rolling in at the thought.

The enemy had already noticed how dangerous he was and were starting to develop effective countermeasures to the tactics he had been able to get past Rosley, most by simply teaching them to his men in secret. One thing they'd changed was that they no longer operated in just threes and fours. They now always travelled in at least a tent-sized force. Another thing they did was keep to the high ground as much as possible, and they only ever stopped for lunch or a break, or to set up camp, when they were on top of a hill.

Coupled with the damned crimson uniforms that bastard forced them to wear, the enemy easily spotted them seven out of ten times. The unit's current kill-death ratio had dropped to one for seven, and it was falling every two days when the patrols rotated back in.

Chapter 218 - Ambush

"Sergeant-Major, why are we camping here instead of that hill?" Myjack asked as he poked his straw-hatted head out of the ditch.

"We're behind enemy lines. Thanks to our assaults, the enemy have wisened up and no longer travel in small groups. The hill is the only high ground in the area so they'll definitely go there if they're here.

"I've noticed lately that the enemy usually split up into four groups to check hills. While we will have a good vantage point if we camp on it, we won't have the strength to fight an enemy attacking us from all sides. Muskets can only fire so fast. Even if we can take out a side or two, the rest will still get in close and kill us.

"I've heard that the people who always make a point of camping on hills have been dropping like flies. Whatever else they may be, the enemy are no idiots. They treat every hill like an assault, so we can't get them while they're going up. Once they've cleared the hill, however, they let their guard down and that's when we'll wipe them out."

Claude explained his plan patiently. The kid was still young, being just barely seventeen. He wasn't very smart, but he had a good head on his shoulders. If not for the difference in their ranks, the two might just have called each other brothers.

The 5th-month sunlight made everyone it hit lazy. Gum was already fast asleep, even snoring lightly. All he did was eat and sleep. He was the simplest of Claude's men. He didn't ask for much, just enough food, and was willing to do anything for it.

"They're here," Myjack announced, his ear on the ground. "I'd say about a tent's worth."

Claude kicked Gum.

"Get ready, they're here."

Gum quickly rubbed his face and checked the straw mat covering the trench. After making sure nothing was amiss, he lay down beside Claude and glared at the hill through the mat's slits.

The hill was about seventy metres away. Berklin and two men had camped some sixteen metres behind Claude on his left flank while Moriad was camped on the right flank with three men. They had also covered their trenches with straw mats and wore straw hats.

One strong-looking horse after another trotted up the hill a couple minutes later. They were mounted by Canas' blue-uniforms. The rider's tension could be seen on the horses, which cantered stiffly. Their relaxation was just as obvious, as the horses neighed and shat once their riders relaxed. The men huddled up and started chatting, dismounted and setting about settling in.

Claude aimed at a soldier looking around with a monocular. He should be the tentsman, probably a second lieutenant.

Bang!

The musket popped and the man fell off the horse like a sack of potatoes. He was dead before he'd even hit the ground. His men reacted almost without thinking. Their bodies moved even as their heads started panicking as they realised what was happening. The men still on their horses rolled their heads in every direction to find the puff of smoke that had sent the round in their direction. The shot's sound told them more or less in what direction to look, but only the puff could betray the exact location. It took them only a couple moments to discover the puff, and their mounts darted off as their legs strangled their middles.

Bang! Claude fired another shot. Another cavalryman ate dirt.

The remaining ten fumed. They drew their riding scimitars and shouted curses as they charged. The frontmost three riders were less than thirty metres away. Claude picked up his third loaded musket and aimed. Myjack was reloading the first and Gum held two javelins, unfazed by the incoming enemy.

When they were less than 20 metres away, the first three riders collapsed all of a sudden. The worst off was flung in the air and fell on his neck, snapping it and dying instantly.

"Trip rope!" cried the next man along as he yanked on his horse's reins.

Claude's third musket popped and the man collapsed before he could find the rope.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Four more muskets popped in quick succession and three of the seven remaining riders collapsed, some fell off their horses while others just slumped in the saddle.

Damn, two shots hit the same guy. They're only less than thirty metres away, so it couldn't have been a miss. One must've been shot twice, Claude thought.

The four remaining riders craned wildly to find the puffs to their left and right where Claude's flank positions had opened fire. The puffs discovered, two changed direction and charged at them instead while the remaining two continued to try and find a way around the wire.

Claude had fired all three of his preloaded muskets. Myjack was still reloading the first. He didn't worry for Berklin and Moriad as they still had two loaded muskets each. They should have no problem dealing with their chargers. As for him, he could only rely on Gum now.

Gum roared and rushed out of the trench, sending a javelin flying with each arm. One missed, but the other impaled the rider through his unprotected chest and he fell from his horse, gasping for air.

The remaining rider brought his scimitar down at Gum's neck, but the big guy was already flat on the ground. The blade nicked a few of his hairs on the way down, but aside from a little dust, he was untouched. The horse plowed into the trench a moment later.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three more shots echoed from behind. Claude didn't have time to worry about Berklin and Moriad, however. He had enough to deal with himself.

Myjack scrambled to get out of the horse's way while Claude picked up the just-reloaded musket and levelled the barrel at the rider. The man was already swinging his scimitar, however, and knocked the musket aside before bringing the blade around again. Claude shoved himself out of the way, but the trench wall was right behind him. He still had a grip on the musket, however, so he shoved the thing back into the sword's way. The blade bit into the stock as metal connected with wood. The swing had enough momentum to carve into the iron barrel as well.

Claude shoved the musket forward as the rider yanked on his sword, shoving the man back. The sword came loose and the musket fell from Claude's hands. The man smiled sadistically at his unarmed opponent. He was cornered and there was nowhere for him to go. The man need only swing once again to separate head from body.

Claude instinctively raised his hand and shot off a Magic Missile. A hole opened up in the rider's chest, and he collapsed, still wearing his sadistic smile, though shock had just enough time to colour his eyes before he died, giving him an unnerving expression a chimera of sadistic pleasure and disbelieving shock.

Claude yanked the dagger from his boot and leapt at the collapsing man. He shoved his blade into the hole in the man's chest and yanked it back and forth to do as much damage as possible and hopefully make the scorch marks unrecognisable. He could know his subordinates as well as he liked, but he could not trust them with such a secret.

Claude clambered out of his trench, his hands covered in blood, and looked around. The man charging at Berklin was dead already, no losses on Berklin's team, while Moriad's opponent had decapitated one of his men. He was currently wrestling with the other and Moriad couldn't get a clear shot.

Damnit, how had the bastard gotten into their trench? Claude grabbed an undamaged musket and started reloading.

A musket popped in the trench, but the rider was still up. He shoved the man he'd been fighting away and turned his horse to the man who'd shot at him.

While cavalry were deadly in a charge, their power was based entirely on their momentum. Now that he'd come to a standing fight, his horse was more a liability than an asset.

The ten seconds it took Claude to reload took a year to pass. He was still ramming the round home when he saw the blade come down, ready to bisect the man from shoulder to belly button.

A musket popped to Claude's right and smoke covered him for a moment. When it cleared, he saw the rider already dead on the ground. His eyes darted in the direction of the shot, and he saw Myjack lowering his musket. He'd made it just in time.

Claude felt the air leave his lungs. He wondered when he was going to breathe in several moments later, when he felt the air leaving his lungs again. He'd completely missed his inhalation. He shook himself and dashed to Berklin. The men were staring at their comrade's head, which had settled about three metres from his corpse.

"How did Alije die? Berk, explain!"

Alije, the dead soldier, had been one of the mentally challenged sods. Before this fight, only three of the eight had been alive, now they were down to two.

"The rider ducked just before we shot, so we missed. Alije had closed his eyes when he shot, however, so he didn't see it and stood up when he heard the other guy fall, thinking it was ours... Right when the man was swinging his sword..."

The rider must have been quite skilled to have pulled that off. Thank goodness he'd not made it out alive. That said, it was unacceptable to have lost yet another comrade, and that was despite setting up such a good ambush.

"Pack up. Wrap Alije as well, you know the drill," Claude ordered.

"We did good this time, Chief. We took out a whole tent. We didn't lose any of the horses, either. We've got ten new mounts," Moriad smiled greedily, "There's still one more on the hill. I'll go fetch it."

Claude was just about to ask Moriad to get him the enemy's monocle when more gunshots sounded. Moriad collapsed, as did two others who'd also gotten on horses.

"Enemy attack! Get down!" Claude shouted as he fell to the ground instinctively and crawled over to Moriad.

Chapter 219 - Casualties

There was a hole in Moriad's left hand. He was still conscious though. When he saw Claude, he struggled a smile.

"Am I going to die, Chief?"

"You won't. You weren't shot where it matters," Claude said, breathing a sigh of relief.

He took out a bottle of potion from his sack. It was one of the four perfect-quality potions he had synthesised back in Whitestag. He poured a couple drops on the wound and had Moriad consume the rest.

"Don't move. We'll come fetch you later."

Moriad was lucky. His hand was in bad shape but that was about it. Even his fall from the horse hadn't done much to him. The two soldiers who'd followed him were dead. One had been killed by the shot, which had bored a hole into his chest and turned his heart and one lung into paste, while the other had been trampled by his horse.

At least another tent had just popped over the hill. They wore white and moved independently. They spent most of their time crouched or kneeling to fire, then moved as soon as their musket popped.

Claude stayed stomach down and aimed with another musket.

His musket popped. When the smoke cleared, his target was lying flat on the ground. The puff his musket inevitably revealed his position, and several rounds threw up dirt around him.

"How many are still alive? Why aren't you firing back? Have you forgotten everything I've taught you?!" Claude roared, rolling into the nearest trench.

Twelve white uniforms were still ghosting about on the hill. Claude couldn't believe how accurate they were. They were at least as good as his men. If he'd not been laying down, he would probably have been struck down already.

He stood up as high as he could without exposing his head and reloaded. About fifteen seconds later he popped above the trench and levelled his musket at another white uniform. His musket popped and the figure was down when the smoke cleared. His shot was followed by three more popped a couple seconds later, and he watched as three more white uniforms dropped.

Claude allowed a ghost of a smile to creep onto his face when he noticed a hint of panic appear in the white uniforms' movements. They'd evidently not expected the enemy to match their accuracy. They had to have finished reloading by now, but Claude didn't see any new puffs of smoke. They must not be able to see him or his men that easily. They wore bright red uniforms, but they had covered them in dirt thanks to the fight they just had, and most were hiding in the trenches.

Claude's musket popped again and another white uniform dropped.

Myjack's musket popped a moment later and another uniform fell, this one evidently hadn't been killed, however, as several moments later, his cries echoed down the hill to their position.

The white uniforms stopped their advance. One darted to the yelling man while the others started making their way back up the hill. It looked like two of the uniforms had a short argument, then one grabbed the reins of the dead officer's horse. The rest had by now made their way to the downed uniform and were helping it up and preparing to pull back.

Claude finished reloaded again. He levelled his musket on the blob of uniforms carrying the injured up the hill. When they reached the top, Claude's musket popped and one dropped and started rolling down the hill.

Four more muskets popped a moment later and two more uniforms dropped. The horse neighed and collapsed as well. The last three uniforms stood stunned for a moment, then yelped and darted away.

Myjack's musket popped, but the uniforms continued over the top of the hill and vanished.

Claude finished reloading a moment later, but wasn't in time to get a shot off.

"Berk, clean this place up. Myjack, Gum, reload your muskets and follow me!"

Claude got out of the trench, his head still low, and made for the hill, Myjack and Gum in tow. The three uniforms that had made it over the hill were just white dots in the distance now, well out of range. Where had those whities come from? Claude had never seen them before, and they definitely weren't from Canas.

Claude checked their muskets, and his face darkened. The design was practically identical to the Mark 3, though just different enough to tell him that they weren't actual Mark 3s. The design difference clearly didn't impact its performance, however. Knock-off or not, it could match the Mark 3 all the way.

So the tent had done much the same as his unit had. They'd set up their position at the base of the hill, opposite him, and waited for an enemy unit to set up on top of it. When they heard the shots peppering the hilltop, however, they realised what was happening and moved out to take out the enemy ambush force. The enemy was catching up to the rangers' doctrine more and more, faster and faster every day, but Claude's superiors were too stubborn, too vindictive against him to take his advice and adapt themselves.

If this kept up, their side would be wiped out. They were still able to keep up a decent fight against the Canasian scouts because of their superior weapons, even if their doctrine was very quickly becoming outmatched, but now that the enemy had equivalent weaponry, if they didn't adapt immediately, and do so earnestly, they would be wiped out.

"They're Rimodran units, Sergeant-Major," Myjack said as he removed a small metal tag from one of the corpses.

"Why would they be here?" Myjack asked as he passed the tag to Claude.

"Look at their guns," Claude sighed, "they're here to do to us what we've been doing to the Canasians. They've at least not learnt to dive to the ground and fight from there yet, or we wouldn't have made it out of this alive. I can't criticise their accuracy, however.

"Gum, take care of the corpses. Myjack, the dead Canasian over there should be an officer. I noticed he had a monocle. Take it and check the area from here. I don't want any more surprises."

'Taking care' of the corpses just meant robbing their dog tags and other valuables. Enemy dead weren't respected on Freia so Claude wouldn't bother with a burial.

Dog tags could be traded for off days after a mission, which sounded like a great idea to reward people who got results, and to incentivise the others to do better, but barely anyone came back with dog tags. Those that were in a position to collect, usually died in the fights as well.

The men had even started avoiding fights altogether now that the enemy had started adapting.

Looting was a popular activity for soldiers. Loot was the property of the looter, so men often spent several dozen minutes carefully combing the bodies after a fight, which also left them vulnerable to secondary attacks or ambushes, much like what had happened to Claude's group.

Unlike others, Claude always headed out with a tent of men and split the spoils evenly. That was why the men in the camp trusted him and were willing to join him on his excursions. They didn't have to worry about getting into fights.

Gum collected the dog tags and belongings while Myjack kept watch. Claude loaded the enemy's musket to test out its accuracy.

He stopped after ten shots. No wonder the enemy's rounds only hit the ground around him. The bullets wandered after 70 metres.

The barrel was hot after the tenth shot. The musket may be a close match for the Mark 3 in terms of performance, but it didn't have the durability.

Regardless, war was the best teacher. Claude was quite worried about this fight becoming commonplace. If the whole war became like this, the enemy would have a massive advantage.

Gum approached and handed a bunch of tags to Claude. He had another small sack in hand filled with coins and some other valuables as well.

"Have Berk bring a few horses over. Load the scimitars and musket on them. As for the valuables, hand them to Berk. We'll split them after making an inventory," Claude ordered.

Berklin soon came over with five horses.

"Chief, we're done cleaning up down there. We lost three men: Alije, Lik, and Kruna. Mod's pretty badly hurt, but he'll make it. Bodia's thigh's been cut but he'll be fine as well."

Claude set up an ambush with ten men and managed to eliminate a 12-man tent and the nine Rimodran infantrymen, making their kill count 21. His unit suffered only five casualties in return. A huge success by the rangers' standards.

Claude sighed exasperatedly.

"Alright, back to camp."

Chapter 220 - The Battle Reignites

It was around eleven at night in the royal guard encampment near Eimis.

Some thirty metres away from the commander's tent a row of normal tents stood. Nobody could imagine the crown prince of Aueras, Prince Hansbach, was actually staying in such a run down place.

The prince still hadn't gotten any rest. He stood in front of a table and inspected a musket on it. It was the Rimodran musket Claude had returned.

"What does Master Krilado think of it, Captain Skri?" the prince asked.

"Master Krilado believes it was made in the Aula factory in Sidins. The design is based off our Aubass Mark 3 and it's used for sniping. As their technology behind ours, and this is merely a knockoff, it's not as accurate and can't fire as quickly, but it's still a serious threat, especially if they start producing it en masse."

If Claude could hear the captain now, he would probably kiss the man.

The crown prince nodded and circled the table a couple more times. The other men in the tent stood like statues and waited for his next words. They'd all been with the prince long enough to know he did not take kindly to being disturbed when he was thinking like this.

The prince stopped after several minutes.

"It looks like we have to attack sooner than planned. We might just still catch the enemy unprepared. We should be ready to move now. Griffon have disguised themselves as irregulars, so the enemy should be completely unaware of the nature of our presence."

The prince continued to mumble to himself as he made his way to the table. He took it and tested its heft.

"Who captured it?"

"Sergeant-Major Claude, Your Highness. He ambushed a tent of Canasians but was counter-ambushed by Rimodran infantry. Luckily, he managed to turn things around and brought us back several of these muskets. He did lose half his detachment, however."

"Claude? He sounds familiar... Where have I heard it before... Ah, right. Have Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley... No, have Captain Lederfanc from the ranger tribe come over."

Captain Lederfanc was the one in charge of the ranger tribe's logistics as well as the prince's eyes there. His task was to observe the lieutenant-colonel's activities and everything else that happened in the tribe. He would record it in his periodic reports to the prince.

About an hour later, he remembered who Claude was after hearing Lederfanc's account.

"You mean to say Sergeant-Major Claude and Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley have a bad relationship and Rosley's really wary of him? But since he can't do much against him despite wanting him dead, he keeps assigning him difficult and dangerous missions, which the sergeant-major always accomplishes perfectly?"

"Yes, Your Highness. In fact, more than a third of the rangers trust the sergeant-major unconditionally. He never has a shortage of volunteers even for the more ludicrous missions. He's made a number of suggestions to change the unit's doctrine which the lieutenant-colonel has turned down but most of the rest of the commanders wish to see implemented. I don't know why the lieutenant-colonel would want to suppress Claude so much; he doesn't even report his accomplishments.

"I've kept my own record, however. Claude's taken 70 dog tags so far. He's always operated with a whole tent of men, but, even so, that's still an impressive accomplishment. The lieutenant-colonel refuses to acknowledge his achievements, however. Claude should have been promoted to second lieutenant long ago."

"You think Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley is right or wrong in suppressing him?" the prince asked.

"I don't know, Your Highness. I am your eyes and ears, not your brain."

The prince laughed.

"You did well, I'm pleased. I put Rosley in charge of the tribe because I value his loyalty. He carries out my orders without question. He's done well to test the Aubass Mark 3 for me thus far. His common birth and his ambition has made him jealous of anyone that he feels could rival or outshine his accomplishments. He doesn't seem to understand that the superior shares in the glory of his subordinates' achievements, and in the shame of their failures. I suspect that's why he's been suppressing Claude. He can't see the bigger picture, which is a big reason why he hasn't been made a noble yet, and probably never will be.

"Claude has a lot of talent. He's still too young; a promotion now will only make him prideful. He needs more tempering in the bottom ranks before we can let him blossom. Leave the situation be for the time being. We'll promote him after the war."

"Your Highness is wise!" the officers exclaimed.

"Tell Rosley that, while Claude does indeed require tempering, he ought to humble himself and implement reasonable suggestions. As for Claude's unit, keep them at full strength, the boy may not be ready for a larger command, but there's no point in wasting his talent with an understrength unit. We shouldn't shackle his mind either. Tell Rosley to stick to giving the boy missions, and to leave it up to him how he wishes to complete them. Let him decide his own training regime as well. His mind is clearly built for ranger doctrine, so give him all the freedom you can to keep developing it. Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley has changed the ranger tribe into a mercenary unit. It's not what I want for it, so bring it back on track.

"As for Master Krilado's thoughts, I completely agree. We should try to train our new recruits on the Mark 3 from the very beginning. Don't get them befuddled with the old muskets. Find out what tactics Claude has suggested, in detail, and incorporate them into our training regimes. We need to make optimal use of the new musket's strengths if it is to be worth anything. Lederfanc, send a message to army HQ and have them start doing that immediately.

"Understood, Your Highness," the captain saluted.

"Alright, that's all for now. It's getting late and I'm tired. We'll continue our talks tomorrow."

The prince waved his attendants out of the tent and headed for his as well.

Claude was summoned to the tribe's HQ the next morning. Rosley was wearing a dark expression and Captain Lederfanc stood beside him, all smiles. Claude was told about the changes that would be made to his disposition, minus mention of why these changes were being made, of course. He was just told that his band had been chosen to be a testbed for the new tactics and doctrines the rangers were going to implement. He'd shown some promise, and so high command wanted him to keep coming up with and testing new tactics and doctrines to help improve the army's use of the new Mark 3s.

Claude's face was the epitome of confusion when he left the HQ building. Claude had commanded a band before, but that was purely as their instructor during their training. It was highly unusual, in fact, strictly prohibited by army doctrine, for him to be given a standing command of this size as a mere sergeant-major. And on top of that he was to be given far more freedom than he'd ever heard of someone of middle-command rank, which was what he now effectively was, though he lacked the rank, being given.

The only possible way this could have happened, was that the higher-ups had somehow heard about his accomplishments despite Rosley's best efforts otherwise, and had decided to effectively promote him to second lieutenant without actually doing so to save the fart some face. The only one Claude could think of with both the authority and disposition to do this was the first prince.

He wasn't going to complain, however. His newfound freedom meant he could approach his ridiculous missions however he wished, screw current doctrine. It also curtailed some of Rosley's worst inclinations, such as telling him to stay out in the field until he had ten dog tags, despite only letting him take a tent with him.

He didn't understand why, given his merits, the prince hadn't simply overruled the fart and promoted him. Surely someone as crippled by jealousy as Rosley didn't deserve the protection of his dignity and pride he was being afforded. So he didn't know what they were going to do about his merits, if they were going to recognise them or not. He wasn't inclined to kick up a fuss and risk his new liberties, however, so he just kept his thoughts to himself.

Claude was in the midst of reinforcing his unit and training the new transfers when the quiet front exploded again. Aueras launched a massive offensive on the Amilia Plains. Nearly a million soldiers stood on the two sides, quite literally, and shot at one another. This particular battle would eventually become known as the Battle of Blood Ground.

Aueras' side deployed 460 thousand men. Seven corps and thirty tribes, including the royal guard corps and the two irregular corps which fought in the vanguard. Their enemy stood 580 thousand strong. They crumbled quickly under Aueras' 400 cannons, however and Aueras pushed onto Efenasburg.

Chapter 221 - On the Frontlines

The new corps formed by the draft in Sidins was completely unable to hold back the Aueran forces. Their defenses had practically crumbled to the touch. The six corps of Askilin, Rimodra, and Canas were also useless before the furious Aueran offense. They were beaten further and further back, losing one stronghold after another.

It was clear the first prince was going to try to repeat the strategy Bluefeather aimed to achieve before to take Efenasburg in one fell swoop and exterminate Sidins to seal the battle for good. At the very least, that was what the top brass of the Alliance believed.

According to information obtained from the frontlines, Aueras, with their royal guard as the vanguard, led four other irregular corps on an offense that allowed them to inch ever so closer to Efenasburg. Given that Aueras had seven corps and some thirty other combat tribes, they probably left two irregular corps to defend their flanks against Nasri's three corps. In other words, as long as they could stretch the Aueran troops thin, Nasri would be able to break through the defences of those two corps and once more surround the Aueran forces like before, being trapped by the Alliance on Amilia Plains once more.

So, Sidins redoubled efforts to fortify its capital and rallied all its citizens to defend against enemy invasion. The three other duchies' corps did naught but gradually give way and retreat to stretch the Aueran forces thin. They were trying to bait the Aueran vanguard forward so that Nasri's corps would have an opportunity to pierce their flanks.

Little did they expect that Aueras' target wasn't Efenasburg, but the three Nasrian corps instead. When the royal guard reached the run-down defence line set up by Bluefeather the last time, which was located some 20 kilometres away from Efenasburg, the Nasrian commanders at the flank believed that the time was right and launched their attack against the Aueran irregulars at the flank.

The plan went on as the Nasrian commanders planned. The defending irregulars weren't able to stop the advance of the two Nasrian standing corps and one irregular corps. The defense line was soon pierced and all three Nasrian corps began their march towards the tail of the kingdom's forces in an attempt to encircle the forces that were at the frontlines.

But after the Nasrian troops crossed the Aueran defense line, the irregular forces that they thought they had scattered reformed to full force once more and managed to retake the defence line with the help of the other irregular corps. They quickly fortified their defence lines once more, but they focused on defending from troops in the inside rather than out.

At the same time, the two irregular corps that were tailing the royal guard received an eagle message and ceased their slow march, blitzing towards the right flank of the line instead to conquer Sidins' travel chokepoint between Amilia Plains and Sidins' two port cities and set up a defence line there. After leaving one corps to stand guard, the remaining irregular corps teamed up with the royal guard and turned back towards the three Nasrian corps at their rear.

By the time the Nasrians found that they had been surrounded from their flanks and front, they felt that something was off. Urgently, they sent their forces to launch probing attacks on their enemies in all directions, only to find that the enemy had set up lines of defence. The hunter just turned into the hunted.

There was no way the Nasrians would be able to make it out alive. There wasn't a point in counting on their allies. While the four duchies could still hold up in defensive battles, it was impossible to get them to mount an attack on Aueran forces. Otherwise, the stalemate at Eimis wouldn't have lasted half a year.

The ranger tribe no longer received missions to set up ambushes after the battle began. They didn't have to go on the frontlines either, seeing as they weren't scouts. Instead, they were ordered to mobilise with the first prince's forces. Given that the first prince was remaining in Eimis, Claude had the time he needed to pick out the men to join his band.

But after the three Nasrian corps fell into Hansbach's trap, the prince ordered his cohort to advance and commanded some fifty tribes of troops to seal off the rear escape route of the Nasrians. His attendants advised him not to go forward with that mission, only for the first prince to smile bitterly. According to him, the combat tribes would be obedient as long as he was at the frontlines. It was hard to say the same if he had someone else take charge.

Even though the fifty tribes of men the prince had almost amounted to a corps' force, apart from the two combat tribes selected from each of the seven corps on the frontlines, the remaining 30-odd tribes comprised keepers from various parts of the kingdom. While those local forces were capable of defense and logistics, they required heavy supervision in an actual battle. Without the first prince's presence, they would prove hard to control.

Even though the three Nasrian corps were likely not to turn back to break out of encirclement as that amounted to suicide, since they would be overwhelmed from their flanks and what awaited at the back was the strongly fortified Eimis, Hansbach planned to keep the enemy forces in Amilia Plains instead of letting them reach the city. That would prevent the battle from being drawn out, which would cost the kingdom even more.

Aueras' goal in this battle was to wipe out the three Nasrian corps first. As long as that goal could be achieved, the three duchies' reinforcements coming to Sidins' aid would no longer be a worry. Nasri was the only nation among the five in the Alliance to sport some real combat power and the other four duchies wouldn't be able to stop Aueras' forces from advancing.

The ranger tribe arrived at the frontlines with the prince. The sides of Amilia Plains were rather hilly. There were many hills of differing heights and the first prince commanded the 50 tribes he brought with him to set up tight defences near those hills to prevent the three Nasrian corps from breaking through.

Claude was tasked to lead his band to wipe out hidden enemies in the northwest 15 kilometres away. That basically entailed searching through the hills in the northwest, which numbered less than ten. The so-called hidden enemies referred to deserters who fled into the hills or citizens of Sidins that went into hiding. His mission was to prevent such elements from approaching Hansbach's camp.

Claude split his band into four tents and let them fan out for the search. He remained at the center to give commands. They would scour the caves, water sources, valleys and woods in the hills. To survive in the wilderness, people could settle for anything for food, even moss. But a clean water source was always necessary for survival.

During the first day, Claude's band caught ten-odd deserters of Sidins. The orders from the top did make sense after all. The fifty tribes set up camp at the front while the first prince's cohort camped not far back and was guarded by only a tribe of guards. It was easy for enemies to approach from behind.

During the evening, Claude found an abandoned village near the foot of a rocky hill. Only six elderly and three young children remained there. After searching it and asking around, he was informed that the village was called Fenis and its inhabitants relied on planting herbs to make a living. After war broke out the previous year, most of the men in the village were drafted. Not long after Sidins' defeat, deserters soon arrived at the village and pillaged their food and took their women, leaving only the nine young and old behind to watch after one another.

There wasn't anything worth taking in the village. Those that were left behind relied on foraging vegetables in the wild and eating sweet potatoes from the abandoned farm not far away. Near the village was a small waterfall where two streams met. They had wanted to go there to fish for some food for the children, but they noticed some deserters there that had a few women with them and didn't dare to go there any longer.

Claude gave the elderly some of his salt, jerky and black bread in exchange for information on hiding spots near the waterfall. They also drew a simple map and gave a brief description of that area.

Before sleep, Berklin, Aboyev, and Dyavid sought Claude out and said they believed the old people were lying. Many of the deserters they caught told them to not trust the residents of an enemy nation. Any sign of friendliness could be a trap, and as invaders, they should know better. They said that Claude's men would never be regarded as friends.

Claude smiled and shook his head. While the deserters' words made sense, it depended on the context. It was one thing if the invaders conquered enemy territory and pillaged their wealth. They were no different from bandits or raiders in that sense.

But the elderly and children of this village only want their lives to go on in peace. Claude found their village, but he didn't rob them and even gave them food. While they didn't take Claude and the rest as friends, they also didn't see them as enemies. Instead, the deserters hiding in the hills were far more of a threat to them than Claude's men. They told Claude about their plight in hopes that they could help them with it.

And reality came to prove Claude right. During the week-long search, Claude located more than a hundred deserters from Sidins. He also rescued more than twenty women. Most of the deserters were caught at the hiding spots the villagers told them about. Had the terrain of the hills been better, Claude suspected that the deserters would've declared themselves the rulers of that area.

Many skirmishes broke out over the last week. Even so, the deserters were far from a threat and only managed to injured three men from Claude's band. Around thirty of their own were killed. Claude bemoaned the fact that deserters were dangerous to any nation. The villagers he found were the lucky survivors. The two other villages in the hills were completely exterminated thanks to the deserters.

By the time Claude returned with the deserters and rescued women, he heard some bad news. The three Nasrian corps were forced to retreat. Even though they were still heading down the path of doom, they didn't tone down their stubborn struggle at all. The problem was, the ten-odd tribes of local keepers at the first line of defence were quite inadequate for the job. The suicidal attacks of their enemy caused them to abandon their line not long after and allowed the Nasrian forces precious time to regroup and rest.

Prince Hansbach was filled with rage and had rushed to the second line of defence to take matters into his own hands. He gave the order for soldiers running without being given an order to retreat to be captured and given the death sentence. The cruel order managed to help contain the desperate Nasrian advance at the shaky second line of defence. Claude also received orders to report to the ranger tribe at the second defence line immediately.

Chapter 222 - Wilf Stronghold

"What did you say? The first prince went to the frontlines himself with his tribe of guards?" Claude said with an ashen face.

Right after his return to the ranger tribe, Claude heard something unbelievable from the mouth of Captain Lederfanc.

"He's the crown prince! How could you let him go to the frontlines? What if something happens to him? Everyone here will be responsible for it!" Claude thought that the officers were surely going crazy for daring to allow Hansbach to go to the frontlines.

A few stray bullets hitting the prince was all it took for it to end up an embarrassing failure for Aueras even if Sidins ended up defeated. Hansbach wasn't just the crown prince, but the commander-in-chief of the battle. Just because he was there to preside over the battle didn't mean that he had to face the enemy's fire at the frontlines personally.

"None of us were able to stop His Highness. His Highness was really mad that the three encircled Nasrian corps sent a line of forces to attack us. Those useless tribes weren't able to stop them at all and His Highness had no choice but to go to the frontlines to give the order for deserters to be killed to hold the line.

"But this morning, a Nasrian cavalry line breached the second defence line from here in a suicidal maneuver and occupied Wilf Stronghold. One keeper tribe defending the stronghold were completely wiped out and the first prince is now gathering a force to mount an attack to retake the stronghold. If we aren't able to do so, the four defence units at the hill won't be able to be reinforced and supplied. They won't last under enemy attack," Lederfanc explained.

There was a thick, curved line stretching across Amilia Plains. It marked the path between Eimis and Efenasburg. The wars in this era largely took place around these highways to ensure smooth transportation of supplies and troops. If the three Nasrian corps want to break out of encirclement, breaking out of the highway was the easiest way and that was why the defence lines were set up.

On the map, a few of the hills had been marked with a red cross, denoting the loss of the defence lines near the area. Four other hills on both sides of the central highway were still in Aueran hands, but there was a red cross on the rearmost oval which marked Wilf Stronghold.

There was another red line on the map which denoted the route the Nasrian cavalry took to Wilf. It was apparent that the Nasrian officers were no fools and understood the principle of striking at the weakest link. They weren't willing to fight a battle with the Aueran defences which would be costly in terms of casualties and time. They were still attacked on their flank and rear and extermination was a very real possibility.

As such, they took a leap of faith with their cavalry line and managed to conquer Wilf, cutting off the reinforcements and supplies for the defence lines at the four hills ahead. As long as the cavalry line could retain control over Wilf, the rest of their comrades would be able to take the four hills and they would no longer have any obstacles on their way to Eimis.

"Why didn't His Highness order the troops to retreat to Eimis? The defences there are fortified. Even if the Nasrian forces manage to break encirclement and attack Eimis, they still won't escape total annihilation," Claude said.

"That won't do. There's still someplace they can run to at the north of Eimis," the captain said.

"The north? That's the coast. Where else can they go?"

Lederfanc shook his head with a pained smile. "You forgot about the Alliance's navy. The waters there are still their territory. If they manage to reach Eimis, they can run to the coast and depart on the ships. Even if most of the forces won't be able to escape, the officers would definitely be the first to leave. That's why His Highness insisted on having the defence lines set up at the hills to prevent a single Nasrian high officer from escaping."

"Then what am I to do now?"

"What? Go to the frontlines. This is a chance for you to perform," Lederfanc said, "I heard about the war game you had in Bluefeather's 11th Tribe. You used a tent of men to occupy territory defended by a whole band. The first prince has launched four attacks on the stronghold since this morning and the casualties are huge. However, Wilf still remains in enemy hands. Go there and see if you have a way to take it back."

Claude handed Lederfanc the captives and injured, resupplied and rushed to the frontlines with his band. The closer he was to Wilf, the larger sense of foreboding he felt.

Less than a kilometre away from the rendezvous point, Claude saw a hill with piles of dead soldiers. Only half of the corpses were covered in white cloth. The rest were left on the hill in the open and made a ghastly sight. There were probably two to three thousand corpses in total.

When he finally found the rendezvous point of the rangers, he noticed that morale was incredibly low. He asked a familiar sergeant-major about it and found that the first prince's men had launched five attacks in total, but all of them ended in failure and more than half ended up as casualties. Even the rangers were dragged into two of the attacks and less than three hundred of them still survived.

"How was the attack made?" Claude asked in shock. While the ranger tribe wasn't fully staffed, there were at least seven hundred of them. How could the casualty rate be that high?

The sergeant-major bit his lip and said, "That darned Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley volunteered to have our tribe join the battle. We marched forward in neat lines. He wanted us to march all the way to the enemy base before firing, but we were sent flying back nonstop by the four cannons of the enemy. Not a single one of the men lined up in front could be saved.

"What's ironic about this is that those cannons were installed by us. The enemy managed to take the base and use it against us. We are unable to approach a hundred metres of the stronghold. The scatter shot covers the whole area and the darned lieutenant-colonel is only asking us to march to our deaths. He wants us to fire only when we're fifty metres away before charging in with our bayonets."

Rosley's manoeuvre would be the correct one if the enemy didn't have cannons and were only armed with muskets. Taking the casualties and only firing fifty metres away before charging in for a melee would terrify the enemy until they were no longer able to resist. But the issue was that they had four cannons and scatter shots could cover the whole area a hundred metres away. It was indeed nothing but a death march.

Claude turned to look at Wilf. The distant stronghold wasn't that high up. The elevation was around forty to fifty metres and the slope was a gentle one. On the two sides of the hill were steep cliffs, so attacking from those directions were impossible. There was still a large pile of Aueran corpses on the middle part of the slope, but most of the corpses near the bottom had been taken care of. There were also a few cannons tipped over on the ground.

"What's with those cannons?"

"The first prince had them brought over. However, the elevation isn't high enough and they can't hit the stronghold, so they had to be moved forward. However, the enemy has four cannons and a great artilleryman, not to mention, higher elevation. It didn't take long for our cannons to be completely destroyed," the sergeant-major replied.

"How many enemies are there left on the hill?"

"I'm not too sure. An estimate of four to five hundred, perhaps--" The sergeant-major shook his head. "--I heard there were around a thousand this morning, but after our attacks, the first prince's guard tribe managed to fire around twenty volleys. I bet they lost at least half their men."

Cannons couldn't be deployed as the enemy could see far from the top. An attack could only be mounted from one side of a slope. Perhaps, he could sneak there with his band and first neutralise the cannoneers. Without the threat of the cannons, the other troops at the rear might be able to charge in and the occupation would succeed.

The sharp sound of a bronze whistle derailed Claude's train of thought. He looked up and saw Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley marching towards him. When he was near, he roared, "Rangers, sortie!"

"Damn it all... We're going to attack again. I don't know if I'll survive," the sergeant-major lamented.

Claude grabbed him.

"Is our tribe still going to attack with what few men we have?"

"Sheesh, I doubt that darned Rosley will rest until all of us die off. That pisspot managed to survive the last two times... I hope he dies this time for good." The sergeant-major no longer cared for the hierarchy and didn't bother to refer to Rosley with his proper title.

Rosley saw Claude and marched over.

"Claude, you're finally here. Have your men get in line. We're going to attack."

Claude clicked his heels and stood at attention.

"Sir, can you let me lead the ranger tribe for a probe first? I might have a way we can take the base."

Rosley fumed.

"Claude, get in line immediately! You're going to be right in front! Forget about using your little tricks to bluff me! I won't let you beguile me like before! I don't have the luxury to bother with you before battle. The enemy just conquered another base at the frontlines. If we don't take Wilf immediately and send reinforcements, the enemy will break through!

"Do you understand the urgency of the situation? We don't have time to waste! Don't play smartass with me and get your band of troops into line. You will stand at the very center! If you don't follow orders, I'll have the enforcers deal with you as a deserter! Right now, this instant! Get in line!"

Claude really wanted to swear out loud, but he forced it down at the sight of Rosley's bloodshot eyes. That blockhead wasn't even trying to be reasonable. He was asking the troops to die per his usual habit. If he had really bothered to argue, he would be made an example as a deserter as a warning for the other soldiers.

He had no choice and stood at the front. He had his band of men spread out single file on both sides, all fifty-odd men. The survivors lined up behind him. Behind them were troops from other units. It didn't take long for another line to form to Claude's left. It had forty-odd men. The slope of Wilf could only accommodate two rows side-by-side.

After half an hour, the troops were neatly lined up and the anxious Hansbach told the troops with his brass trumpet in hand that the prosperity of the kingdom depended on whether they could exterminate the enemies on the hill. He tried his best to build morale and even offered grand rewards to the soldiers, but that didn't help one bit. Nobody believed that they would be able to take the stronghold with this attack.

Claude estimated that there were around two thousand soldiers participating in this attack based on the number of rows. The first prince's guard tribe was lined up at the very end. They weren't going to partake in the attack, but were instead going to kill off soldiers that ran away from the enemy.

Rosley stood at the left corner of the lines some three metres away and blew his bronze whistle hard. He waved the sword in his right hand and roared, "Attack! Forward march!"

Chapter 223 - Marching in Line

Their starting point was roughly a kilometre from the stronghold. The march went well for the first roughly two hundred metres. Everyone knew they were still safe. They inched closer and closer to the defences at Rosley's whistled pace.

Claude stood at the very center. The men advanced in lock step with him and marched into the cannons' range. Claude felt like he would pass out at any moment from the stress and fear. The two sensations gnawed at him like a thousand cockroaches.

He wasn't alone. All the men were being eaten by cockroaches of similar kinds. Only their long months of training kept them moving forward in lock step with the whistle. Marching into battle was inevitable as a soldier, but Claude regretted that it had to be done this way despite his suggested alternative. Rosley's stubbornness was the only reason they were marching into inevitable massacre.

The lieutenant-colonel had received the order by the time he arrived, so he could not argue. Getting into a fight with the man would not win him anything either. With a great battle ahead, nobody would care about the opinion of a puny sergeant-major. Rosley was more than happy to ignore him and send him to the battlefield too.

Nobody fired when they crossed either the 700-metre or the 600-metre marks. The atmosphere was no better for it, however. Claude's forehead drowned in sweat. Each step took an eternity, and the whistle blew like a gale with each footfall.

Another infinite moment passed and four thunderclaps rang in Claude's ears. White smoke puffed into existence in four places on the walls ahead. For a moment he thought he saw the ghosts of black dots, the fainted artist's suggestions of something coming his way, then they were gone with a whoosh unlike anything he'd heard before, and an earth-shattering crash of metal, wood, clotch, flesh, and bone burst into his ears from behind, a moment of infinite silence followed, then the panic, screams of agony, and barks of orders followed.

The enemy had fired.

Claude felt none of the panic that soaked the surrounding air. His feet returned to him slowly, like a figure fading into view out of the fog, followed by the strength needed to use them. The whistle blew again, much more strained than it had before, and he continued his march.

About a minute passed, though it could just as easily have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes for all he knew, and the thunderclaps sounded again. For a moment he saw the four ghosts again, then the same hell burst into existence behind him.

Several men on either side of him wavered, a couple even started turning around to run--

"Deserters will be killed!"

--the shout stopped them in their tracks, and they returned to the march.

The defenders on Wilf fired just six volleys before they ran out of ammunition. The battle had been running for six days now, after all, but the damage six four-cannon volleys could do to such a tight formation was beyond reckoning.

Claude thought of swearing to never forget what he lived through this day, if he actually did live through it, but he didn't think he'd need the oath. Even if he wanted to, this day would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

The last volley very nearly made that no concern for him. One of the ghosts came straight at him, and time seemed to stop entirely for several way too long moments. It stretched on for so long that he even had time to make out the little dents and scratches the barrel had made on the cannonball on its way out. He tried to dump himself on the ground, but his body had been too well-trained, and it stubbornly refused to do anything but march to the beat.

Luckily, the ball hadn't been headed quite as straight at him as he'd thought. It whistled by about a foot to his left, at shoulder height, tearing through the man to his left and the next seven men behind him before plunging into the ground and bouncing back up to scythe through the next formation behind that.

They were just 300 metres away now. The march continued as inexorably as before, the whistle still bleating away the pace, though it was now less a whistle and more of a shrill shriek, urging them all onwards in the name of all that was good and lovely in the world.

They now had to climb the slope for the last couple hundred metres, and staring down at them, quite literally down the barrel, were the gunners of the same four cannons that had tormented them thus far, finishing the last of the reloads.

Claude thought about the standard artillery doctrine. They would continue to face cannonballs for about the next two hundred metres, then the cannoneers would switch to grapeshot. Much like the buckshot canisters fired by shotguns from Earth, just, much bigger and far more terrifying. If he found himself in the middle of one of those cannons' firing cones, he wouldn't even leave a wet splotch behind. He'd be turned into a soft red mist, and blown away by the wind.

"When we are a hundred metres away, drop down and shoot at the cannon crews. I don't care what any of the bigshots yell, if you don't do it, I'll kill you myself!"

The whistle had died down now, becoming fainter, like a drowning child's screams. Rosley was thinning out the line to maximise their volley strength. He'd kept to the outer edges of the formation, where cannons were not likely to be aimed.

No wonder the bastard always made it, he knew exactly where to plop himself to have the best chance of survival, and he'd put Claude right in the middle of the enemy's big, fat target. He was a very typical commander in that sense. He marched in front where everyone could see him until it came time to be shot at, then he quietly and surreptitiously shifted himself to the safest spot. All the glory and the minimal danger. Claude desperately wished he was within stabbing distance of his commanding officer at that moment.

Claude noticed another appearance as they closed in. A fence of muskets had appeared in the gaps between the cannons, all aimed at him and his comrades. His steps continued without abating, however, driven onward by that same damned whistle, his paces didn't even shrink, and so, by the time they were within firing distance of the muskets, he was a good two paces ahead of the rest of the line.

"Fire!" he heard the enemy officers shout.

The enemy lines vanished into a fog of white smoke, and moments later hundreds of whistles blew past Claude's head. The closest three men to Claude's left, and the second, fourth, fifth, sixth, and eighth men to Claude's right collapsed. The man on his immediate right continued marching, but he suddenly had a limp and Claude could see the pain etched on his face. He didn't yell, though.

The second rankers behind the fallen rushed up with the next couple of steps to fill the holes and the formation continued on like nothing had happened. Claude knew none of them wanted to do any of it, but their bodies, drilled for months, weren't listening to reason. And so they continued on.

Into hell.

The enemy finished reloading ten seconds later. Claude heard the new man to his left pray to return to his hometown safely, or at least to be spared a pained death. Claude stole a glance at him as they marched. He was in his thirties at most, but he already had several grey hairs in his hairline, and his face was a kind of gaunt Claude had only seen in veterans.

The man's prayer started again, but it vanished into the next volley a few words in. The man survived the next volley, but half of the line wasn't as lucky, and among them was the man directly to Claude's right.

The whistle bleated again.

The enemy reloaded with full haste. Claude's side could fire back effectively in a couple more paces, but that was far from winning the battle. In fact, reaching the hundred-metre mark merely meant they could officially start the battle, everything before was just a massacre.

Claude shouted at himself silently. He could have done this so much better if he'd just been given the freedom to. And so many lives could have been spared. That damn Rosley had killed so many with his own stubborness, with his jealousy of Claude. He had to die, even if Claude had to do it himself, he had to die.

The march slowed, and finally stopped, despite the whistle's incessant bleating. Rosley charged into the formation, sword unsheathed.

"March! March, damn you, or I'll cut you down myself!"

Corpses covered the slope like a healthy sprinkling of seeds on a field, even those from the previous five days' fighting. The oldest were bloated and flies buzzed around them even in the midst of battle.

Claude stared at them for a moment, then his eyes came to rest on the lieutenant-colonel's detestable face.

"Troops at the back, form a line around me! Quick!"

Claude's musket settled in his left hand, and he traced a spell formation with his right. Rosley was still marching between the ranks, shouting at the men, while careful to stay behind someone at all times.

The men followed Claude's orders despite being completely foreign to him.

"Follow me! Forward!"

Rosley stared at the group, his jaw dropping, letting the whistle fall to the ground.

A transparent bubble popped into existence around Rosley. It glinted like a rainbow in the sunlight.

The next volley came without announcement. The moment the first round whistled by, the bubble quavered and popped. Rounds scythed into the lieutenant-colonel, turning him into what had lovingly been called 'swiss cheese' back on Earth.

"Get down!" Claude yelled.

He didn't know how many people in his band were still alive. While the rangers might understand his order, the ones from different units might continue forwards foolishly and only get on the ground after they were hit.

There were two corpses where Claude chose to get down to serve as his cover. Some 120 metres away, Claude steadied his musket on the corpse. He aimed at the nearest cannon crew and pulled the trigger.

With the sound of his musket firing, Claude heard ten or so other shots coming from behind. A good number of soldiers around the cannons fell as the rest cried in panic. One cannon managed to fire a scatter shot, but nobody was harmed as they were not yet in range.

Gunshots continued to ring out behind him. Claude looked behind him and saw the first prince's guards firing volleys in neat lines at the enemies in the stronghold from three hundred metres away. However, they didn't reap much gains and only downed some five or six foes.

Chapter 224 - Suppressive Attack

The intricate monocle made out of gold shattered with an audible clang as it hit the ground. Prince Hansbach stared at Wilf in disbelief as one soldier after another fell.

It wasn't just him; the other attendants and soldiers in the rear stared at the scene. The tides of battle had turned in an odd direction. Initially, the attacking side was harshly under fire by the defenders and suffered incredible losses. They could clearly see the soldiers on the front wiped away one after another.

Until Rosley ordered for the men in the back to march forward and fill up the spaces, everything was still normal. But when the defenders suddenly finished loading and were preparing to fire, a large bubble appeared on Rosley, who had gone to the side to avoid fire. It looked like a rainbow under the sunlight and attracted enemy attention, causing Rosley to be turned into swiss cheese.

If there were any other officers on the field, they would take command and mount a charge while the enemy reloaded. However, a few soldiers in the very front just dropped down to the ground, and everyone else followed suit. They flattened themselves on the ground, leaving only a couple low-ranking officers behind to stare at them. A few hesitated to follow suit for a few moments, then did so.

If the prince had been on the hill, he would understand why. To remain standing when there were only a couple left, would make him the enemy's sole target. On top of that, in this kind of situation, one was more than adequately weak to following the crowd.

Only the first prince's guard thus remained standing. They levelled their muskets and opened a thunderous volley. The men that had dropped down, weren't entirely absent, however, their scattered, uncoordinated shots puffed smoke up into the air from the ground as well. The massed volleys soon covered the slope in smoke and made any kind of observation impossible.

"What's going on?" the prince roared, "Why does Rosley know magic? Why are the soldiers on the ground? Can someone give me an explanation?"

The prince had been very confident of this attack. Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley had led the charge in two prior ones and according to him, there were less than six hundred men left in the fort. Given that the earlier attacks had also drained most of their ammunition, they only needed one or two more to break through and take the place.

The prince had counted on the enemy firing at them once they closed to within 500 metres, hoping to take them out before it came to closer musketry, and to waste their ammunition at a distance where they could not be as accurate as they wished. They had done just that, and had run out of ammunition after six cannon volleys. A straight march was suicide for a large portion of the men, but that was war.

The attackers weren't the only people panicking, however. The defenders had never encountered such a situation and had no idea how to react. Panic soon settled in.

It would have been one thing if the enemy had only shoved themselves onto the ground, but they were firing back! And they were too damn accurate! This should have been completely impossible.

They'd hoped for a couple seconds to get the enemy when they had to inevitably stand back up to reload, but they didn't do that at all. They just stayed down, and then vanished in another puff. And every puff was accompanied by another comrade's death. A couple had thought of manning the cannons again and seeing what they could do with a grapeshot, but they were all cut down before they even got to them.

Claude was not the commander of his formation, despite not being the ranking officer. Rosley's death had left him the de facto commander since none of the other officers had the balls to take command, and none of them had the soldiers' trust to get them to follow their orders even if they did.

He still had a hundred rangers, though most were already wounded. Most of the faces within earshot, which was quite a limited distance in the middle of a line battle, were unfamiliar to him, though he did recognise one face. He'd once called Rosley a pisspot. He'd hoped initially to pretend to get shot and stay out of the worst of the fighting. But Claude's order had struck at the same moment he'd hoped to go down. It was a godsend, and so he'd played trumpeter and ensured everyone heard the order.

From Claude's own band around twenty were still alive. Berklin was still untouched, while Dyavid was busy bandaging his arm as best he could -- still issuing orders as he did so.

"You, go back and get me muskets like mine," Claude ordered the man still praying.

"Oh."

The soldier stopped and tried to get up, but Claude pulled him down.

"Do you want to die? Crawl, damn you!"

"Sasri!"

The sergeant-major behind him winced, then looked in his direction.

"What?"

"Have all the men to our rear pass their muskets forward. They haven't trained to shoot from the ground so they're useless right now. And have them get ready for a charge!"

"Charge? Are you insane? We got down to be safe from enemy fire, now you want us to charge into that same fire?"

Claude gave him a light kick on the head.

"And how do you suppose we take the fort from here? We've still got men coming up from behind, if we're still here when they march up, we'll be trampled! And the only way we're going to avoid a court martial and summary execution is to take the fort now! And you're not joining. Stay behind and keep the men we'll leave behind firing!"

"...Understood."

Back behind the lines, the prince was fuming.

"Order a retreat! Damn bastards, they've ruined the attack, now we'll have to pull back and do this all over again!"

"Wait, Your Highness. Look. The men are charging!" Captain Skri shouted, handing his still-whole monocle to the prince.

"Shooting from the ground is considered attacking now?" the prince asked mockingly.

Despite that, he halted his orderman about to blow the bugle.

"What are they doing, mounting bayonets?" the prince asked as he stared intently through the monocle.

The bayoneted muskets were passed forward to the front two ranks, fired, and passed back while they received the other loaded muskets and continued firing.

"They're reloading on the ground too?"

The prince's memory yanked a scene in front of him of a certain encounter with a young sergeant-major and his unorthodox training methods. The men who'd passed up their muskets took them back and started crawling up the slope.

He lifted his monocle to the fort's battlements, and sure enough, the enemy had vanished. They popped up only occasionally to take a pot shot but were struck down the moment their heads came up above the battlements.

"So this is how the Mark 3 should really be used..." the prince murmured, his eyes burning like stars.

He'd almost taken the rangers in completely the wrong direction and had thought only of sniping from defences. Because he hadn't even considered having his men fire while prone, the thought of using this tactic on the attack hadn't even occurred to him.

"They can't use their cannons either..." someone whispered.

The prince shifted his monocle to one of the cannons and saw nothing but a pile of corpses.

The prince started grinning uncontrollably for a moment, then he cursed again furiously.

"That damned Rosley... How did I appoint such a fool? He actually didn't report such a useful tactic to me? He deserves to die!"

He had half a mind to send a runner to the front and have the lieutenant-colonel dragged back in irons, but then remembered the man was already a corpse.

"At least he did me the courtesy of dying! Wilf Stronghold would have fallen on the first day if the bastard had revealed this to me from the beginning! I'd have been saved so many soldiers, too!"

The corpses sprinkled on the slope beneath the fort came to the prince's mind again, and he couldn't help but lament the waste of so many men.

Captain Skri was somewhat cynical of the prince. Had he not praised the lieutenant-colonel's bravery just an hour earlier? He'd even promised to promote him to colonel if this attack worked...

"Berk, Dyid, Sasri! Keep the men firing! Give me cover! And keep those bastards off the cannons!"

"Yes!" the three replied in unison.

"Charge!" Claude roared as he darted to his feet.

Only three followed him. He stopped ten paces later and turned around to see almost everyone still on the ground.

"If we don't take the fort now you're all corpses even if you make it through the battle alive! You'll be court-martialed! Charge, damn you!"

The other officers snapped awake at his warning and bellowed his orders. The prince was watching, if this tactic didn't show impeccable results, they were dead. Now was not the time for hesitation and reservations.

The enemy heard his calls as well, however, and started firing with increased urgency. Two of the three that had followed him from the start of the charge were struck and dropped, one dead, the other choking on his own blood.

"Faster! Keep your head down! The enemy is just a bunch of degenerates! They'll run when they see us coming!" Claude roared before he knelt and fired at a reloading enemy.

He raised his bayonet and charged over the battlements.

"They went up! They went up!"

The prince cheered like a child at his favourite sports team.

"Have the guard charge as well! Now!"

"Yes, Your Highness!"

Chapter 225 - Visit

For all his efforts, Claude had horrible luck. He'd gotten injured yet again. Things never went perfectly, but he'd gotten the short end of the stick too many times, he complained.

The men charged with him, following him as their de facto commander, and he guided the fight from the front. Even second lieutenants obeyed him without question.

As a result, however, he quickly became the enemy's main target. An enemy first lieutenant rushed out of a corner waving a scimitar at Claude. He was caught off guard and didn't even think about dodging. In a panic, he used his musket to block the slash. While he managed to stop the sword, the enemy pushed it forward and pierced through Claude's thigh.

The officer tried to pull his sword out and give it another go, but he was struck down by the men that had been accompanying Claude. The damage had been done, however, and Claude was rendered inoperable as he lay on the ground clutching his bubbling leg. He didn't even have any of his potions left as he'd just used the last one on Dyavid.

Though fort fell soon after, more bad news came with the battle's end. Aboyev had been killed. He'd been struck down by the first musket volley. His head had been turned inside out by a round that had gone through his left eye and burst out the back of his head, taking half his brain with it. Berklin spent most of the next two hours clutching his corpse as he cried. They had joined the army together, and become brothers in all but blood since.

The fighting had died down not too long after Claude had charged in, and the rear elements were starting to come in and occupy the fort. Amongst them were the medical trains to treat the wounded. Claude and Dyavid were packed up in a carriage and shipped off to Eimis for more extensive treatment.

The hospital was quite big, but it was filled to the brim with the injured and mending. Quite a few were rangers. Moriad was one, and he would be there for another month.

Lederfanc came by a week later.

Claude noticed his rank insignia had been switched to a single silver crescent-moon instead of three green stars. He was now a major.

"Your luck is horrible," the major said, "the prince went to Wilf Stronghold to look for you only to learn you'd already been shipped away for treatment. He wasn't very happy. Of all the battles you could have chosen to get injured, why this one? I can't even count how many people would and have died for the chance to show off their talents or skills, and you go and piss it away after getting it..."

"Come to think of it, my promotion is thanks to you," he said when he noticed Claude's interest in his insignia, "His Highness believes our tribe played a key role in the battle. He's ordered all the tribe's officers promoted by a rank. You're a second lieutenant now. Too bad... If you had met the prince right after the battle he might have bumped you up to first lieutenant."

As Lederfanc spoke, he took a cardboard box and a new insignia, one green star, and plopped both in Claude's hands.

"The arrangements have already been made. All you have to do is rest and recuperate. Report to me once you're healthy again."

Claude played around with the insignia as he mulled over the major's worlds.

"Are you in charge of the tribe now?"

"Yes. I was rushed in as acting tribesman for now," Lederfanc sighed, "The lieutenant-colonel's death caused quite a lot of chaos."

"Chaos? What do you mean? Come to think of it, there was this weird bubble around the lieutenant-colonel before he died. What the hell's with that?"

Lederfanc glanced around and leaned in to Claude's ear.

"What I'm about to say is never to be repeated to anyone, you hear? Not even to yourself. It was magic. His Highness has watchers guarding him and they said the bubble was some kind of barrier for ranged projectiles. They scoured the battlefield but couldn't find a trace of anyone using magic...

"They concluded the lieutenant-colonel must've bought a spell scroll somewhere and thought it could help him survive against rounds. He must have activated it when he realised he was going to be in the middle of the enemy volley. Single-use scrolls like that usually turn into ash the moment they're used, so they're impossible to detect after the fact.

"I heard the prince cursed Rosley for being a fool who thought too highly of himself. If spells were useful against muskets, the magi wouldn't have been chased off Freia. He said it was fortunate a fool like Rosley attracted enemy attention and was killed for his stupidity. Otherwise, the rest of the rangers would have died and we wouldn't have been able to retake Wilf."

Claude breathed a mental sigh of relief. He only recalled he was the one who set Rosley on the path of death using a spell. As casting spells left ripples in the surrounding area, the prince, who no doubt had watchers around him, might send them out to inspect it. If traces were detected, it wouldn't be impossible to track Claude down through witness accounts based on where he was at the time. He had been nervous about it the whole time.

He didn't think he would receive such good news from Lederfanc. He realised that this meant mana had to be like some kind of gas. When it was used it coagulated into a mouldable mass which dispersed over time. Since the battlefield was racked with the shockwaves of musket- and cannonfire, and all the smoke that went with it, the mana dispersed much quicker and thus became untraceable.

"How many are left?" Claude asked.

The major smiled bitterly.

"I'm acting tribesman, but I barely have thirty men under my command, and most of them are from logistics."

Claude stared at him.

"What's going on? Didn't we have a hundred men after we took Wilf?"

"The prince ordered the formation of three more ranger tribes, so the men have been split between the three," Lederfanc explained, "We are now officially the 1st Ranger Tribe. We have to wait for new recruits to fill our ranks again. They're still being trained, so, for the time being, we're just thirty strong."

"I've come to give you your insignia and ask for a favour."

Claude smiled.

"Major, you are my superior and my friend. I will do whatever I can to help."

"Well..."

Lederfanc didn't hold back and told Claude that he worried that the new recruits wouldn't know the tactics Claude had used and hoped he would submit a training manual.

It wouldn't be difficult, nor too much of a hassle for Claude, so he agreed. The manual's first draft was finished three days later and handed over. Most of it pertained to training the recruits to reload on the ground, anyway. He did, however, ask for Lederfanc to transfer Berklin back to 1st Ranger. The two had been together for so long and he couldn't trust anyone but him as his second. On top of that, he was the best instructor out of the ones still alive that knew the tactics, and Claude was not about to hand him over to another unit.

Lederfanc happily agreed.

"By the way, you're now a commissioned officer, so by regulation you'll need a guard and orderman. I had them sent over. They'll take care of you while you recover."

He waved at two soldiers, who entered as he left.

Claude smiled when he saw the two: Myjack and Gum.

Claude wasn't that surprised to see Myjack. He had left the youngster with Lederfanc to hand over the captives, so he'd not fought in the battle. He was, however, surprised to see Gum still alive. The big guy had marched in the first rank with Claude, not far away from Aboyev, in fact. He'd not seen him after the battle before he'd been shipped to Eimis, so he'd presumed him dead.

The thought of Aboyev sent his mood spiraling into depression again. He was the first good friend this war had robbed of him.

Myjack and Gum's insignia each had a line more than before when last Claude had seen them. Both were now corporals.

Gum told Claude his battle story. He had tripped and fallen, and managed to avoid the first volley. Just as he was about to get up, the two men on either side of him were shot and they fell on him. Somehow, the musket held in the one's hand also fell on him and knocked him out. After the battle ended, the cleaners trying to pull him into the corpse cart were startled when he woke up.

"I really fainted. I wasn't playing dead. Just look at the bump on the back of my head! It's only shrunk halfway. It's still there," Gum said desperately.

"I believe you. But why didn't you stay in the tribe? Why insist on being my guard?"

Usually, only officers with actual command positions were assigned guards. In a full band with 53 men, apart from the 48 from the four tents, the rest were ordermen, signallers, healers and guards. The ordermen and guards were usually picked by the bandsman personally. Only his trusted confidants could serve in that capacity.

Most second lieutenants serving as bandsmen in peacetime didn't have guards and they only kept one orderman around to deal with miscellaneous matters. There would be more pay and provisions to go around for fewer people. They would only pick soldiers close to them to serve as guards when war broke out. As for signallers and healers, they were assigned by the tribe.

Gum scratched the back of his head tenderly.

"I can't eat my fill in the tribe. I can only be full when I'm with you..."

He really only ever thought about food... He could eat four men's worth of food. While he would've been a fierce and mighty warrior in older times, there was no longer room for him to flex his potential in the age of firearms. No matter how great his strength, he wouldn't be able to take a single shot from a gun. Since Gum wasn't able to get enough food in the tribe, Claude resigned himself to allowing him to stay.

His thigh was pierced through by a riding sword and he would have to spend a while recovering. It would also be rather inconvenient to move, so having Gum and Myjack around was convenient. Claude was thankful for Lederfanc's consideration.

Chapter 226 - Returning for Duty

It appeared Lederfanc couldn't have Berklin transferred back to 1st Rangers. It wasn't that he didn't try. Instead, Berklin was now heralded a treasure by the twenty-odd rangers in 2nd Rangers and they weren't willing to let him go. Given how impressive Berklin's contributions were, having shot a lot of enemy officers from a good hundred metres away, it was no surprise.

As such, Berklin was promoted from sergeant-major to second lieutenant to put him on the same rank as Claude, thus making it impossible for him to serve beneath him. During the 2nd tribe's break, he put on his new officer uniform and insignia to visit Claude and the rest at the hospital. He had wanted to show off, only to be beaten up by the jealous Moriad and Dyavid.

The seven Aueran corps commanded by the first prince finally encircled the three Nasrian corps while Claude was still recovering. After half a month of push-and-pull battles, the Nasrian troops finally discarded their weapons and willingly surrendered. The entire operation cost Nasri 98 thousand men. Half were killed in battle and the three corps, around 160 thousand men, were completely eliminated. Two of the extinguished corps were standing ones as well.

Aueras also suffered rather substantial losses, but the dead numbered less than half Nasri's. Their campaign in Sidins could be considered a decisive victory. The kingdom chronicled it as the Triumph of Amilia. However, few were aware that the battle was what prompted the Auerans to change the direction of their firearms research from range to accuracy.

Claude received many letters during his recovery. He did nothing but write to his acquaintances and friends. Welikro's father, Kubrik, wrote to tell him that his son had gone to the frontlines as a royal guard and should be in Sidins as well. The royal guard were mostly kept on the frontlines, however, so he didn't have the chance to meet any of them. All he could do was ask Myjack and Gum to look around and ask the injured whether any knew Welikro.

Borkal didn't reply to the letter Claude sent. His father, Rublier, wrote that Borkal's unit, the keepers of Banjilia, had also been deployed to the frontlines. He didn't know where though. He sounded really worried for his precious son. He also included a piece of surprising news. Eriksson had joined the navy.

Claude's mother's letter was packed with the usual worry. Even after he told her the good news of his promotion, she continued to shower him with pleads to look after himself.

His sister wrote in code that she had become a one-ring magus and chosen the same seven basic spells as him. At the very least it meant she could now keep herself safe. Unlike Claude, she was more passionate about herbal medicine than magic, taking after their mistress. She also complained that Bloweyk, who had just turned ten, was an uncontrollable rascal.

And then there was Kefnie's letter. She had devoted her whole heart to Claude. While she was worried about his safety, she said she was confident she could wait until he returned to tie the knot. The letter practically dripped love as she chronicled every detail of her life in his absence, especially her quiet suffering as she awaited his return. She did manage to mention a couple other things, however, like how her sister was married and pregnant. She and her husband were having nightly fits over what to call the child.

Maria also sent a letter. She apologised for not asking the first prince to look after him as well. They were just seven years apart, so she'd always had fights with him over him calling her 'aunt'. He'd never unlearnt the behaviour, and the two didn't get along very well.

No wonder, Claude thought. He had wondered why the first prince hadn't treated him like he was Maria's pupil when Rosley was causing so much trouble. So it was because he didn't know about the connection at all.

Perhaps the matter with Wedrick was the reason Claude had that misunderstanding in the first place. He got the impression Maria was capable of getting her way no matter what it was. So at least in the royal family there were some people who didn't care about her position. It was a good thing, as far as Claude was concerned. It meant his promotions thus far under the first prince were solely due to his own efforts and merits, not any considerations for his mistress.

Sidins and the other duchies' forces quickly capitulated without Nasri's backing. The duke fled the duchy just a month after Nasri's army surrendered, leaving Efenasburg behind to fight on alone.

On the 10th of the 8th month, the siege of Efenasburg ended, just a fortnight after it began. Prince Hansbach arrived in the city on the 12th to officially accept the duchy's surrender in their duke's absence and declared its annexation.

The royal guard led the four irregular corps against Rimodra with fierce and renewed fervour several days later, and conquered a quarter of the duchy in a week. As they were requesting ally support in the face of a belligerent and capable foe, Duke Rimodra sent an ambassador to Aueras secretly to sue for peace. During the audience, the first prince refused the duke's demands and demanded the duchy's unconditional surrender.

The duke was not about to gamble his nobility on some brat's whims, so he turtled up and prepared to fight it out to the end. With the fall of Sidins, the duchies of Askilin and Canas formed three new corps and sent them to Rimodra in the hopes that the war wouldn't spread beyond its borders. If Rimodra fell, Askilin and Canas would be next.

At the same time, the Alliance's leader, Nasri, was hard-pressed to defend its own territories, so it couldn't spare any more forces. Nasri's four standing corps were often equated to Aueras' four and they were always at eighty percent strength, even in peacetime. And two of them, a full half of Nasri's regulars, had been lost in Sidins.

The border between Nasri and Sidins was barely defended. Aueras had recalled Griffon from the western front without the Alliance noticing and mounted a counterattack into Nasrian territory with two irregular corps. Having to fight on two fronts, Nasri's survival had fallen into doubt. They did not have the room to send forces to their allies.

The scales had tipped in Aueras' favour, so much so Stellin X declared the war would end within a year. In his speech he focused on the prosperity his rule would bring to his side of the continent, which revealed his true intent. He was planning to rule over a good quarter of the continent.

Claude read about the speech in the local newspaper in his final days at the hospital. The headline read 'Cheer, Victory is Near!'. The king sure had grand ambitions. He was already talking about ruling half the continent when they'd only just barely taken one and a half duchies.

It had taken Claude three months to heal from his injury and rehabilitate his leg. His healing itself had taken much longer than everyone had expected. Many wondered whether he'd been stabbed with a poisoned blade, for his recovery to take so long. It swelled so badly at one point that there had been a real chance they would have had to amputate.

If not for Perunt, who sent someone with a concoction he personally synthesised after hearing about it, Claude might had been discharged a cripple. He hated that the hospital's doctors were all incompetent compared to Perunt.

The infirmary was also always overcrowded. Injured came by cartloads after every battle. He might not even have been given proper ointments if not for his new rank.

He'd pushed through however, and was discharged from the hospital in the 9th month. Moriad and Dyavid had left before him. Moriad was a month and a half early while Dyavid was discharged a fortnight after him. Claude was among the latest to return to his tribe and by then, 1st Rangers had gone to Efenasburg. Claude sought out a supply carriage on its way to the city and had Myjack and Gum hitch a ride with him.

Major Lederfanc welcomed him warmly, but didn't know what to do with him. All the clans had commanding officers. That fitted Claude well, however, so he suggested that he be given a position in the tribe's headquarters. Lederfanc didn't mind having him nearby to pick his brain from time to time either, so he happily obliged. He informed Claude they were to move to Rimodra soon to relieve the 3rd Rangers.

Chapter 227 - Blackmaple Castle

"I have returned, Sir," Claude reported as he saluted.

Major Lederfanc stood up.

"What's the deal with 3rd Rangers? Why are their casualties so heavy? Did you learn anything?"

Claude removed his cap, hung it on the wall, and plopped his black leather bag on the desk.

"The tribesman claimed they suffered heavy casualties because the enemy fought to the last man, I'm convinced it's purely a morale thing. Yes, they've suffered heavy casualties, but their inefficacy is because they've lost their morale and can't fight properly, not because they're undermanned."

"So that's why they've been pestering command for weeks now to relieve them? I am worried. 1st Rangers isn't like the 3rd. They're mostly veterans transferred in from other units. We've got only greenhorns. They've finished the general training, but they're not ready to fight using our doctrine. They've not even completed your basic course. I am not ready to send them into battle."

Claude shook his head.

"Unfortunately HQ don't care. They're sending us to Billie. We're to relieve the 3rd by the 5th. We have to leave in a couple days if we're to make it in time. We've only got another week to train, at most. We'll be expected to take Blackmaple Castle, as well. They want us to break the door open to the pass through Pikleit Mountains. We'll really be up against it.

"3rd Rangers failed because they were too arrogant. They didn't think the enemy would hold out as long as they did, or fight as fiercely as they did, so they didn't take appropriate measures. They certainly didn't scout properly. They went in blind.

"Because they didn't scout properly, they chose the worst ground in the entire area from which to attack. The enemy cleared 200 metres of the forest around the castle, and diverted the nearby stream into a moat around it. There's no cover from which to employ our tactics properly.

"And speaking of tactics, I took a good look at their practice while I was there. They may be veterans, but they don't know the first thing about our ranger doctrine. They often don't bother to take cover while firing, and stand up to reload even when they do... Most of them can't make proper use of the Mark 3s accuracy, so they end up either wasting ammo while having no effect on the battle, or are forced to close in to effective retaliatory range in order to hit anything reliably. The enemy is also armed with knockoff Mark 3s, so getting any closer than the absolute limit of our own range is committing suicide. And don't even get me started on those damned uniforms!"

Lederfanc shook his head. Claude despised their colourful uniforms too much. Lederfanc agreed with the youth that it made them massive targets, but it was not in his power to do anything about it. It was army policy which only the likes of the king and his direct subordinates could change.

"Wait, you said the defenders have Mark 3 knockoffs?" Lederfanc asked.

"Yes. I saw one in 3rd Rangers' base. I heard it was produced in Askilin. It's called the Falchston Type-185. They're roughly three catties heavier than ours and can shoot accurately up to seventy metres, an improvement on the ones we last faced in Sidins. I wanted to bring one back with me, but they weren't willing to give me one."

Lederfanc sighed.

"We are still finding ways to use the Aubass Mark 3. Experiments are still ongoing. I didn't think the enemy would come up with countermeasures so quickly."

Claude sighed sympathetically.

"'War is the best teacher', after all. Any half-decent commander would not shy away from learning from his enemy."

Lederfanc poured Claude a cup of tea.

"Let's not wallow in despair. There's only so much we can do. Let's think about how we can carry out the mission instead. You ought to check the four clans and see how their training is coming along. Not only are we tasked with holding 3rd's position, we've been ordered to take the castle.

"I used to be a logistics officer, so I'm not too familiar with combat operations. I can only entrust this to you. Your orders will be mine. You have full freedom over deciding how to approach this. You're the most experienced officer we have, not to mention the one that single-handedly developed our entire doctrine. Submit a proposal for my approval within the next couple days. I don't want to see any unnecessary corpses this time."

"Understood." Claude saluted.

Unlike Rosley, Lederfanc trusted Claude deeply. He'd made him his strategist the moment he suggested being given a position in the HQ. Lederfanc at least had the intelligence to notice his shortcomings, and the humility to entrust those better suited to such tasks with those duties.

They marched into Billie and relieved the 3rd Rangers on the 4th of the 10th month.

The tribe held a war council not long after. As the one who came up with the operation, Claude briefed the officers on the operation personally. Most of the officers supported his plan unconditionally. They knew that, while he often came up with complicated, befuddling tactics that often felt too complicated to be achievable, they always pulled through and achieved great results. Most importantly, they always resulted in far fewer losses than conventional wisdom would dictate for the relevant operation. The only downside is that his plans, given their complexity, took very long to prepare for. Luckily, they'd not been given a deadline to take the castle.

The 3rd had disgraced the name 'rangers'. They'd relied on traditional, standard, and as far as the rangers were concerned, outdated tactics rather than established ranger doctrine when they'd attacked the castle. Most attributed their failures to this stupidity. After arriving in Billie, they rested for a day before gathering the men to head for the castle. They sent an ambassador to request the castle's surrender, only to be refused, after which they began a traditional siege.

As they were armed with Aubass Mark 3s, the troops of the 3rd didn't line up and fire in volleys. First, they bombarded the castles with cannons and attacked the castle from three sides, one clan on each side, and another clan on standby. The commanding officers believed that they would be able to dominate their enemy with sniping once their soldiers got close.

However, there were creeks surrounding the castle roughly sixty metres wide. The water was rather shallow, being only up to knee height, but it proved to be quite a huge obstacle for the attacking soldiers. They weren't able to quickly arrive at the castle and the enemy was able to shoot them down from elevated cover. The soldiers in the creek were shot down one after another and their blood dyed the water red.

The sentry cannons fitted onto the castle also began firing at the three clans and their range superiority caused the Auerans massive casualties. Four of their light cannons and half their operators were wiped out.

That was the real reason behind 3rd's failure. Only some four hundred of the thousand men remained in fighting condition and around three hundred wounded were sent to the field hospitals. The battle was a horrible defeat that cost them more than half their number. Now, 1st Ranger Tribe was given the same assignment and the officers in the tribe were well aware that employing the same tactics as the 3rd would doom them for failure. Having no other choice, they were more than willing to try out Claude's attack plan.

There were three phases to the plan. First, they would encircle the castle and cut off transportation routes to the outside world. The tents of the tribe's 1st Clan would employ guerilla tactics and operate around 200 metres away from the castle to keep anyone from entering or leaving it.

The second phase involved drafting local folk from Billie to reroute the flow of water to the creek and drain it out so that it would no longer be an obstacle for the attackers. The task was given to 2nd Clan.

In the third phase, trenches would be dug a hundred metres away from the castle to take advantage of the distance the Aubass Mark 3 could shoot accurately. While the enemy could still shoot beyond that distance, they wouldn't be able to aim accurately and would have to rely on luck to score hits. The rather dangerous task of digging trenches under the noses of the enemy was given to 3rd Clan.

However, the trenches would be just slightly shy of the firing range of the sentry cannons' scatter shot, which prevented many unnecessary casualties. If the enemy wanted to use round shots, they were free to do so. Only, who knew how much gunpowder and how many cannonballs it would take to destroy the trenches? Not to mention, the trenches were easy to build and hard to destroy. All they had to do after one trench was bombarded was to dig new trenches, which could be easily achieved after driving away the cannoneers from their firing platforms. Claude suggested for a trench to be dug two hundred metres away from the castle first and slowly work their way in when it was safe. The enemy would find it hard-pressed to drive away the trench diggers that way.

"Lastly, the key to conquering Blackmaple is here." Claude tapped on the hills behind the castle with a wooden pointer. "Whether we can cut off the supply route behind the castle will decide whether we can achieve our objectives. According to our reconnaissance efforts, there are two routes around these hills that connect to the supply route behind the castle.

"These routes are usually used by foragers or hunters and can't be traveled by horse and carriage. We need 4th Clan to send out two bands to go up these routes and find a suitable spot at the rear supply route to set up a strong defense. Have one band excavate the path until it is no longer traversable and another band defend them in the meantime. Keep the route defended until we occupy Blackmaple or they surrender."

Chapter 228 - Deployment Strategy

The sky was a curtain of darkness and goose-feather-sized snowflakes fell incessantly. A look outside showed the fields and buildings covered in a white blanket.

White Alice Palace in Efenasburg was fully illuminated, with officers and attendants entering and leaving it nonstop. It was a common sight to many. They would still be so busy even if it was raining knives, not to say anything about heavy snow. This was the headquarters from which Prince Hansbach commanded the entire front's military forces as well as the base of operations for the logistics boys. Every single order issued there would be carried out by a soldier even at the cost of their life.

In a grandly decorated meeting room on the first floor, ten-odd generals were having a strategy meeting with the first prince.

"My royal father gave a victory speech during the harvest festival, but I'm sure all of you here know the situation isn't that heartening. Currently, Rimodra, Askilin, and Canas' forces have been digging in and refusing to meet us on the field. Our plan to attack Rimodra has been completely derailed and there's no chance of a deciding battle happening.

"My royal father wrote me last month and revealed the worries he had about the war. Half of the money we gathered in the treasury over the last two decades has already been spent. As for our forces, we just formed twelve new irregular corps and sent them to the battlefield. The kingdom still needs to form eight new corps and all of the local keepers have been transferred to the frontlines. Our total forces number 1.2 million men. It's a massive burden.

"Father asked me to end the war as quickly as possible so we minimise the toll it will take on the kingdom's subjects. Naturally, that doesn't mean we'll stop when the opportunity presents itself. Instead, we must have a sudden breakthrough and achieve our strategic objectives and conquer Askilin and Rimodra to force Nasri and Canas to the table.

"While we took Sidins, it's cost us dearly. Our spoils are meager -- most of the duchy is desolate wildlands. Who knows how much money the kingdom will have to invest before we can start getting something back. After we took Sidins, the Alliance's navy hit the two port cities we conquered and set fire to even the residential buildings. A good part of the cities have been turned to ash and they won't serve as our navy's new bases.

"In Nubissia, the forces of Shiks refuse to leave Nasri's colony, keeping us from conquering it. All we can do is reinforce our border defences and keep watch. Port Vebator has become the main pirate base and they still pose a severe threat to our shipping to Nubissia.

"And here, we're stuck and unable to deal a critical blow and force them into a grand battle with us. We can only slowly take one stronghold after another and advance laboriously. But the enemy builds two forts in the time it takes us to tear down one. We're getting nowhere slowly."

Prince Hansbach slammed two documents on the table.

"Just look at this! The royal guard takes four to five days to take one stronghold and suffers five to six hundred casualties each time. They have been fighting continuously for nearly three months and nearly half are dead or so wounded they can't return to combat ever again. They are at their breaking point and require immediate rest and recuperation. The reports say the soldiers are starting to hate the battles and morale is at an all time low.

"This other document is a report from 1st Rangers requesting recognition for their achievements. They managed to take Blackmaple Castle and suffered only 27 losses. However, they took 54 days. I don't even know whether I should reward or punish them. They completed their mission, but at this pace they might as well not have. If we adopt their strategy wholesale we'll be here for the rest of the century!"

The ten-odd generals laughed together. The report from 1st Rangers did shock most of them and they suspected a zero was missing from the casualty count. But after reading the detailed report, they were certain that it was true. Many of the officers began to argue whether they should mimic the tactics used by 1st Rangers on the frontlines.

But a good number of them believed it couldn't be used as the tribe took advantage of the loophole in their orders, the lack of a deadline. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to complete the mission with so few casualties. The current situation meant every second counted. Each second wasted was a second the enemy had to reinforce their defences.

Had 1st Rangers been part of the main force and not sent to the flank to deal with the area around the Pikleit Mountains, they wouldn't have had the luxury of time. If they switched places with the royal guard and had to take one stronghold every four or five days, they'd suffer even more casualties since most of their members were new recruits. They definitely wouldn't have the same experience, pride, and combat ability of experienced veterans in the royal guard.

The prince waved for them to be silent.

"Many don't feel too surprised at the results of 1st Rangers, but they did manage to complete their mission with light casualties. They should be rewarded accordingly. I've decided, however, to hold back for the time being. Since they took 54 days to take Blackmaple Castle, I'll wait 54 days to give them the reward."

The generals burst into laughter once more.

"Your Highness truly is wise."

It was just a harmless joke. They would take their time to show the tribe they weren't happy with their pace. Fortunately, Pikleit Mountains was in a far corner not crucial to the main push. The kingdom might've had to pay a much heavier price if this had happened in front of their spearhead. The treasury was half emptied and the cost to maintain an army a million strong was astronomical, even worse during combat. Nobody could afford to let the war drag on.

"Let's get back on topic. Bluefeather recently built themselves back and the last two irregular corps are formed. The ministry of the army has argued much about how to utilise the three corps. They proposed two plans."

Two attendants brought a thick stack of documents over and distributed them to the generals.

When everyone finished looking through them, the prince continued.

"It's obvious, right? The top strategists in the department doesn't have anything new. The first is for us to replace the royal guard with Bluefeather to allow them to rest and recuperate and switch them back once Bluefeather is spent. We'll cycle the two corps until we obtain victory.

"This isn't anything new. We all know that even if we can win with this method, we'll pay too huge a price. It'll also take too much time and we might not be able to achieve victory in a single battle. The enemy will also have time to move all their riches out of the way and leave nothing but barren land for us just like the case with Sidins.

"The other proposition is to send Bluefeather and the two irregular corps to the other front to force Nasri into surrendering. Naturally, we are aware this is nothing but a pipe dream. Nasri isn't like Rimodra or Askilin. They are the only nation in Eastern Freia that stands a fighting chance against us. They still have a lot to give.

"While our forces on the western front and those on the southern border of Sidins managed to breach Nasri and take out three of their corps, they still have two standing corps. It's a stalemate right now because Nasri managed to stabilise their internal situation and are drafting new corps. Reddragon and Griffon, as well as the two irregular corps, have made preparations to fight a defensive battle despite the fact that we're still attacking Nasri.

"It's clear that the Nasrian front won't be decided that easily just because we send three more corps there. Personally, I think we should keep to our current strategy and deal with Rimodra, Askilin, and Canas first. We'll defang Nasri before gathering our forces and giving them a blow that counts and exterminating them completely."

The generals wanted to give a standing ovation, but the prince stopped them.

"I hope you all think carefully about where we should send Bluefeather and the two irregular corps. I hope to force the enemy out of their turtle shell into a grand battle to decide the fate of Eastern Freia."

Everyone quietly frowned in troubled thought. A major-general stood up eventually.

"Your Highness, is there any progress at sea?"

He obviously intended to take advantage of the maritime trade routes to have Fearless help deploy Bluefeather and the two irregular corps.

But the prince's reply disappointed him. "Don't count on the maritime trade routes. The Alliance's navy is putting up a frenzied search for Fearless. They took the initiative to enter our waters and are planning to spark conflict in our coastal areas. Fearless is still a little unequipped to protect itself and the kingdom is sending the newly formed fleet, Storm, to the eastern coast to aid them. For that, we even decreased the scale of the transport fleet to Nubissia.

"The battle plan of the navy truly is laughable. They truly think that the outbreak of war wouldn't affect the status quo at sea and that the enemy allied fleet won't take the initiative to attack ours. They even dreamt that they would be able to take over the enemy fleet without resistance. Come to think of it, they're nothing but a bunch of fools. How deluded they must be to be able to come up with such a ridiculous plan. I wonder how swollen the faces of the senior naval officers will be from all the slapping once they return to the royal capital, hehe."

Another slender middle-aged major-general stood up, cleared his throat and headed for the map on the wall. "Your Highness, I do have an idea. Perhaps we can mount a sudden attack here and burst into the heartland of Askilin directly. That way, we can circle around and surround the enemy from the back."

The part of the map he was pointing at was Pikleit Mountains. "As we all know, Pikleit Mountains stretch over a wide area and is located beside the Great Plains of Canas and the three southern prefectures of Askilin. However, there aren't roads that directly connect those areas. The three duchies had considered making a joint effort to build a road across, but the harsh terrain caused them to give up on that plan. That's why the enemy didn't station any troops near the mountains even after we began attacking Rimodra. They believe there's no way troops can be taken through Pikleit Mountains.

"After receiving word of 1st Ranger Tribe's conquest of Blackmaple Castle, I inspected the information from the castle and realised that the reason it was built was to curb smugglers travelling between Askilin and Canas. Since there are smugglers, there must be a route, so I launched a series of investigations and discovered that there are indeed two small paths connecting the two nations. If we have Bluefeather and the three irregular corps use those paths to pop up in the enemy heartland through the route in Pikleit Mountains, we'll be able to catch them by surprise."

Chapter 229 - Squirrel Village

Claude initially thought he would have some time to rest after conquering Blackmaple Castle since they were to clear the area at the base of the mountain range for the time being. All the towns and the seven villages in the area accepted their conquest with remarkable composure.

Neither Claude nor his superiors expected to be ordered deep into the mountain range to find and close the numerous smuggling routes.

It took just one look at the map to figure out the intentions behind those orders, but they were absolute, so they had no choice but to don their winter gear and head out. Bluefeather arrived at Billie half a month later and relieved the 1st Rangers.

The 1st Rangers had to serve as their scouts and guides. They even spent new year's in the wilderness. Lederfanc took out a bottle of fine wine he carried around with him and allowed each officer to take a single sip as a makeshift celebration.

On the 7th of the 1st month, 579, Bluefeather appeared in the three southern prefectures of Askilin and occupied the three prefectural capitals. 1st Rangers was stationed on the pass' entrance to keep the enemy's informants from escaping or launching a counterattack.

"Lieutenant Claude, I think it'll be best to take a band with you. I won't be at ease otherwise," Lederfanc said with a frown, staring at the map.

Claude nodded. He knew what the major was talking about: a hill at the very outer edge of the mountain range. A path straight to the Great Plains of Canas passed by there, and another branched off from it towards eastern Askilin. The two paths met at the base of the hill. The path was narrow, but it was a crucial smuggler's route. It made perfect sense for the major to pay attention to it.

"I will assign two light cannons and two cannoneer squads to you as well as a carrier pigeon and a signaller. Take Mazik's band from 3rd Clan as well. I'll send supplies every week."

"Roger. I'll set out this afternoon."

Mazik was a veteran soldier who had joined the ranger tribe because he craved the reward money formerly offered by Rosley. He started out with quite good luck, even managing to ambush four enemy scouts with his comrades and getting a decent reward. His fortunes turned thereafter, however, and he didn't make much until Rosley died. Instead, he was pursued to no end by the tents of mounted scouts and the three comrades that he usually worked with were decapitated. He also suffered a cut and just as he thought he was done for, he was rescued by another group of incoming rangers.

It took him three months to heal and he suddenly found himself promoted to sergeant-major. He later found out it was because the tribe had performed magnificently in retaking Wilf and had received a commendation and rewards from the first prince. Even someone who didn't take part in the battle itself was rewarded.

When he recovered, Mazik reported back to the tribe and it so happened they were in need of experienced men to train and lead the new meat. He was thus made an acting bandsman and given a small band. However, as a seasoned member of army, he would often slack off and mess up his missions ever so slightly. Lederfanc had Claude take them along because he didn't have much confidence in Mazik.

For all his faults, Mazik was obedient, at least he had few qualms following Claude. While he was seven years the youth's senior, he had a lower rank. He also admired Claude's plan to take Blackmaple Castle. For veterans like him, minimising casualties was the most important thing -- screw timetables and strategic objectives!

Actually, 1st Rangers was supposed to be deployed with Bluefeather in Askilin's three southernmost prefectures but Bluefeather didn't want to share the glory. It was common knowledge that Askilin was not anticipating an attack and was defenceless. The corps would storm the rest of the duchy before attacking the Alliance's troops from behind in Rimodra and obtain unparalleled glory.

They intended to erase the shame of being cornered on Amilia Plains and sharing the glory would not help that cause. So, they treated the rangers like local keepers and assigned them to defence duty. While Major Lederfanc wasn't shy with his protests, he was outranked and outnumbered, not to mention the first prince had ordered them to cooperate and follow their directions.

Unlike the unwilling officers, the grunts were happy to be put on sentry duty. It meant they would have an opportunity to make a quick side buck safely.

Claude learned quite a lot of money-making techniques from the veteran Mazik. The easiest way was to collect tolls, a portion of which would have to be shared with their superiors, naturally. The unwritten rule was for thirty percent to go to their superiors. Claude, as the leading officer, would get twenty percent, and the other officers would share twenty. The remaining thirty would be distributed between the rest of the men.

This tradition, if not these exact proportions, was common on Freia. Whether it was collecting tolls or raiding, the spoils were always divided thusly.

They arrived on the hill a day and a half later. According to the information they obtained from the prefectural capital, there was a village in the mountains in the trail's bottleneck. It had a hundred inhabitants and was called Squirrel Village. It was the fief of an Askilin baron by the name Norwelik Wey Frinslan. Currently, the baron was spending winter in Swansburg, a large city in Askilin, so his dominion and the village had fallen into Aueran hands.

Mazik livened up as they entered the village. He sent a couple men to get him the despairing village chief and requisitioned young labourers for the construction for their camp. He also demanded their food stores. Then there was the tax he announced. Every household had to pay for the war. Finally, he demanded a census of the townsfolk.

The old chief's reply infuriated Mazik. The town didn't have a single youth. They'd all been drafted into Rimodra's forces. As for food, they didn't have any. They were within the baron's territory and all of the food belonged to him. They didn't even have enough for winter and had hoped to ask for aid.

The tax thus had to be scrapped. Besides food, no one had anything of monetary value either. They didn't even have enough wood and manpower to fix their old, dilapidated houses. The village had two widows; one in her fifties and another in her forties. There weren't any younger ones.

Claude wondered why Mazik wanted widows. Since the village chief didn't budge, Claude took Mazik outside with him and asked for the reason.

Mazik said that it was another custom of occupying a locale. When setting up camp in a foreign nation, nearby villages ought to provide widows. They would help out with daily tasks such as laundry, cleaning, and cooking, and help relieve the troops' pent up frustration so discipline wouldn't falter.

Towns would at least have inns with company girls, but places like this were too small for even that. Being the good soldiers they were, they would pay the women, of course.

Squirrel Village only had two, however, and they were both already well past their prime. Mazik accused the chief of deceit, but the old man's reply was simply that any young women in the village had gone to the cities to find work.

Claude's horizons had broadened yet again. It was the first time he had seen such things in practice. Those were things nobody could teach him, or be willing to talk about openly. He only found out about all these unspoken rules by experiencing them first hand.

Mazik wanted to set up camp in Squirrel Village before sending some men to set up an outpost in the mountain path. But Claude refused the suggestion and instead rode around the village on horseback and found a suitable spot.

On a small cliff that stretched out quite far was a stone warehouse around five or six metres in height. There was a row of four double-storey wooden buildings nearby and the direction facing the village was fenced. The cliff was roughly 20 metres above the three-pronged route. On another side was a mountain with a rather steamy river flowing down nearby which would save them the trouble of finding a water source. On the next side was a path uphill which was wide enough for a carriage to travel on, something they didn't notice when they reached Squirrel Village. The last side faced the village and was fenced up properly. The elevated terrain was rather optimal and easy to defend.

"Whose houses are they? What is this place?" Claude asked the chief.

"This is the vacation house of the lord baron. That stone warehouse is where he stores our food and mountain produce. Every autumn, they will be stocked up and sent to the city. The row of wooden houses is for the guests of the baron to stay in when he brings them hunting. They would come to hunt once in a while every year before shipping the goods away," the chief replied.

Claude smiled. "Then there'd be no problem. We'll be appropriating this for our own use. Have someone clean it up. We'll set up camp here."

Chapter 230 - Questioning

As Bluefeather was raging across Askilin, the flames of war continued to burn through the winter. The land all over the duchy was scorched. Countless refugees escaped on carriages with whatever they could. When the heavy snow fell, the roads were chock full of refugees carrying sacks, hurrying their beasts.

The toll gate Mazik set up by the pass began to bring in lots of income. He demanded astronomical fees. Each person had to pay a small silver and a small gold had to be paid for each carriage. They were Askilin coins, but they had roughly equal value to their Aueran counterparts. Two small silvers were equal to one thale, and two small gold coins were equal to a crown.

Most of the people were rich, so they could afford it even in their current downtrodden state. They were even willing to buy hot food at exorbitant prices.

It gave Mazik another great idea. He partnered with the village chief and erected a large tent next to the road within which he started a small tavern. He hired several villagers as cooks and servers and paid them two-tenths of the place's earnings. The prices were at least double the normal rate.

"Sir, I really don't understand why these people bother escaping. Don't they know going to Swansburg will only delay the inevitable? The two irregular corps will soon come and Bluefeather will take the city sooner or later as well. When Askilin is eliminated, what would they do in Swansburg? Await their death?" Myjack asked.

Claude was standing on the extended cliff with Gum and Myjack. They could see the carriages and people crowded below, paying tolls and moving through. The roadside restaurant was filled, too. They could hear the greetings shouted between familiar faces.

"Most of the townsfolk won't escape. The ones that even bother are afraid we'll come for them later. The three southern prefectures are famous for their mining and weapons industries. Perhaps these people are affiliated with them. It might not be far off to say they have deep, vested interests in those businesses. We've occupied the three prefectures, but we haven't bothered sweeping their industries clean because we don't have enough men. Bluefeather is still on the campaign trail.

"If they don't flee right now, they'll be charged with all sorts of crimes when the kingdom comes to deal with these refineries and weapons factories. They might even be sent to labour camps. The only thing they can do is run. They might just be able to live free for a little longer, or maybe they can escape to another kingdom. Not to mention they have ties to the duchy's lords and ladies. They might be headed to Swansburg in hopes they can reclaim their lost land and businesses," Claude explained.

"Then why are we letting them go? We can just capture them here."

"Haha, why would we capture them? We didn't receive any orders to that effect. Plus, clearing out and restructuring the industries is a matter for the kingdom's pen pushers. If the military butts in, we'll just be dabbling unnecessarily and even the king might take action. The generals probably don't want needless trouble. Also, letting them go benefits us, right?"

Claude was quite aware of this point. The job of the army was to fight wars, not to dabble in the jurisdiction of other departments such as the economy. He had heard Major Lederfanc mouth on about it a couple times now.

"Let's go, bring your muskets. We'll head to the wood. The chief said he heard wolves howling in the middle of the night. Let's go see if there really are any wolves. If indeed so, we should kill them all so they don't make trouble later."

There was no longer anything interesting to see at the cliff, so he turned and left.

Snow covered the whole wood and the hungry beasts approached the village to look for food. Claude had learned that in Whitestag. The snow was thick and heavy. He noticed some wolf prints at one point, but they belonged to a single wolf. Either it was old and had been left behind or it was a rogue loner. They ought to get it while they had the chance.

When Claude returned to the camp, he found a soldier waiting for him.

"Second Lieutenant Claude, we stopped a carriage earlier. A lady and her maids were inside," the soldier reported.

"What about them?" he asked.

What was Mazik up to this time?

"Well, we found this on the carriage," the soldier said as he handed over a package.

Claude opened it and his face darkened. Two disassembled Aubass Mark 3s were inside. They'd also been carefully and expertly taken apart, none of the parts showed any pry damage.

"Tell the sergeant-major to bring them to me. I have a few questions for them."

"Yes, Sir."

The soldier saluted and left immediately. The carriage rolled up a couple minutes later.

"Search the carriage thoroughly, Myjack. Confiscate anything suspicious."

"Yes, Sir."

Myjack saluted and vanished with Gum just as Mazik came up the stairs.

"Here they are, Sir," he said, stepping into the office.

"Bring them in one at a time. And call a scribe."

"Yes, Sir."

The lady entered first. She wore thick leather clothes, which did little to hide her curves, and a netted hat through which her voluptuous red lips shone.

"Off with the hat, please, Miss," Claude said, only mildly polite.

The woman's lips cracked into a gentle, if somewhat cocky smile.

"You should address me as 'madam', young man. But I'll not chide you for 'miss'."

She removed her cap and revealed her face. The scribe and Mazik were immediately lovestruck. She was the kind of beauty that sported an aura of both allure and dignity and wore a helpless expression that stimulated the male instinct to protect.

Claude was not moved, however. He'd seen more than his fair share of beauties her equal. Earth's evil asian arts (read makeup) could do wonders to even a subpar face. He had been quite the connoisseur of such beauty back then, though he never stopped being shocked at the hags they could turn into the moment their makeup came off.

Rapping on the table to chide the two gaping perverts, Claude pointed at the package.

"Madam, please tell me your name and background, as well as how you managed to obtain two of our muskets."

She was slightly taken aback by the lack of effect her looks had on Claude. She inspected him thoroughly, hesitated at the sight of Claude's businesslike, no-nonsense expression, then answered.

"I am Baroness Sonia Lou Vaksiri. I come from Pacasia and am on my way to Swansburg to visit my sick father. As for those two muskets, I purchased them from someone else. I wasn't aware they were military arms."

Pacasia was the prefectural capital of Pauralto, one of the three southern prefectures -- the capital of the regional industrial economy. The duchy's largest factories were also there, including it's smithies.

Claude smiled and stood up. He took out a document leisurely.

"Baroness Vaksiri, someone of your stature should know better than to weave flimsy lies. Nobody could've disassembled these muskets so thoroughly without great expertise. Just look at this part. It's incredibly difficult to remove it without damaging it. Normally, people would try to hammer it off, but the parts on these two muskets don't show signs of being hammered at all. I trust you purchased them complete, not disassembled?"

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew who my father was," the beauty retorted, "He is Liboyd Milowski. You should've heard of him before."

Liboyd Milowski? Who the hell was that? Claude glanced at the other two in the room, but they also had puzzled expressions.

"Ahem... Madam... Who might your father be? We haven't heard of him."

The lady's face flushed furiously. She shot Claude a glance like she would a country bumpkin.

"My father is the most famous musketsmith on the continent! Many of the muskets he's designed have become standard-issue for many nations' armies! As his daughter, I've learned to disassemble muskets from my birth. It's not that hard to take your musket apart. My maidservants can do it under my supervision."

"Oh, you mentioned Master Boyd?" Claude finally recalled Master Boyd was the most famous armsmith of the duchy. Before Aueras came to the three southern prefectures, High Command had released a list of people that had to be treated cordially and sent to them directly if found. The kingdom wanted these talented people.

Master Boyd was third on the list, obviously a high-value target. Most of the people on the list were gone by the time the last of the cities fell, however. Master Boyd was one of them. He'd apparently gone to the duchy's capital for treatment of an illness.

If Baroness Vaskiri really was his daughter, then her possession of the Mark 3s made complete sense. She wanted to reverse engineer them and build on their secrets.

Even though Askilin had issued their own Falchston Type-185, they were still inferior to the Mark 3. The lady probably intended to take these two samples to her father.

"Baroness, do you have concrete proof of your relationship with Master Boyd? If you don't, I am sorry to say, then you will be staying with us for a while. We cannot let people go who have illegal possession of military material," Claude decided before ending the session.

Chapter 231 - The Baroness' Complaint

"Sir, why did you let them off just like that?" Mazik asked after they left.

After the questioning ended, Claude instructed the signaller to take the three women to an empty guest room on the ground floor.

"What else do you want me to do?" Claude countered.

He pointed at the musket parts in the bag.

"If the baroness' father really is that master smith, Liboyd Milowski, then we can't afford to offend her. Her father is a talent sought by the kingdom. If he refuses to serve because of us, we'd be harshly punished. Best stick to protocol and not make any mistakes.

"As for the parts, I doubt there's a need to pursue it. Many of our men are armed with Mark 3s now. I'm sure the enemy already pilfered more than a few during some of the disasters since the war started. They wouldn't have made precision muskets like ours overwise. I'm not surprised Liboyd would go after our muskets given his reputation for curiosity. Even if High Command found out, they'd just gloss it over to stay on his good side. In fact, they might even feel proud that one of their muskets caught his eye.

"And it's not that big of a deal of the baroness is lying, either. We don't know the smith personally, so there's no way we can verify what she's saying. I've kept them here to cover our bases until we have clarity on the situation. Once we do, we can either handle things appropriately, or punish her quickly and be done with it. Best treat her cordially until then though."

"Sounds much more comprehensive. And here I was giddy that I might've caught an enemy spy and get a promotion to second lieutenant."

Claude revealed a troubled expression for a moment.

"By the way, it has been a month now. Why haven't our rewards for taking Blackmaple come yet? Nobody's even mentioned our effort since then either."

He sounded more annoyed than he really was. He knew people's minds were elsewhere, namely Bluefeather. They had conquered three prefectures in just a month. They'd stabbed deep into the enemy's back. The enemy's situation was quickly becoming dire, so much so that victory might be just a couple months away.

Claude wrote an official report about the baroness and sent it off with the signaller.

Communiques were generally sent about using three methods. The most urgent and time-sensitive travelled via eagle. They were rare, expensive, and difficult to train, however, so they were reserved for truly important messages. Short messages and bulletins were sent using carrier pigeons. They couldn't handle larger mail items like whole letters, however. The final, and slowest was by horse dispatch. Even in ideal conditions, however -- perfect roads, post stations every couple dozen kilometres with fresh, quality horses, and good weather -- horses could only take the message a hundred or so kilometres a day, and ideal conditions were not all that common.

The wooden building that served as his HQ had two floors, and four rooms to each. It used to belong to Baron Norwelik Wey Frinslan. He often went there for hunts. The four rooms on the ground floor were single suites with their own bathrooms. The largest was the dining hall where the noble hosted feasts for his guests. Beside it was the kitchen, a storeroom, and a servants' room.

Claude lived in the leftmost room on the first floor. As his attendants, Myjack and Gum had wanted to stay in the servants' quarters but Mazik chased them upstairs. An officer's attendants had best be near him to respond to his calls quickly. Mazik took the servants' quarters. Though Claude wanted to invite him upstairs with the rest, he said staying downstairs would be better for a bandsman like him as it would be more convenient for his night watches.

Nobody was willing to stay on the first floor with Claude apart from his two attendants, probably a sign of how large the gap between ranks in the military was. And, while Mazik was a sergeant-major and bandsman, he was far from a commissioned officer. He found it hard to let loose around his commander, so he chose to stay downstairs.

The two signallers occupied the storeroom. Each had three carrier doves and they required a quiet room so their doves wouldn't be agitated. That left two rooms vacant. Claude used the second room from the right as his study and office. The remaining guest room was there for any visiting officers. Now it belonged to the baroness and her maids.

As for the healer, two squads of cannoneers and the rest of the band, they were settled in the two-storey stone warehouse nearby. The outpost had to be manned by a tent at all times and the camp also had to be watched, so there was more than enough space for the 60-odd soldiers to live comfortably.

It was still winter, so it was still inadequate for laying foundations for construction. Claude had planned to renovate the base after the rainy season. The path the outpost was built on was connected to the Great Plains of Canas and Eastern Askilin, after all. It was the border of three territories. Though mountain paths were hard to move troops across, the precedent set by Bluefeather caused Claude to not dare to let his guard down. He couldn't afford to give the enemy a chance to use their tactics against them and get him into trouble.

So far, all Claude did was send some mounted scouts around the mountains for some reconnaissance. If any enemy was detected, they had to retreat and make the report immediately instead of throwing themselves into the fray and dying in vain. All they were ordered to was to set up a checkpoint at the path and exterminate any insurgent elements, after all. There wasn't anything they could do against a full-on assault by the enemy and retreating was the optimal choice.

Hopefully, the enemy wouldn't make their move until after the rainy season. If they were still going to stay there beyond that, they would have to properly fortify the base so that they could at least hold their ground against an enemy clan of troops. Claude had surveyed the land lately and thought up some plans to modify the base into a small stronghold. Should the enemy dare to attack them after that, they would merely be handing Claude a free achievement on a silver platter.

The door to his room was knocked on. Claude pulled the legs he laid on the table down and realised that he had been thinking for so long that it was already the evening. It should be Myjack outside waiting to send his food in.

"Come in."

The door opened, but the person who entered wasn't Myjack. It was the baroness. The beauty was pouting and seemed rather angry. She held a plate of food in her hands.

Claude stood up and apologised.

"Apologies, Madam, how could my attendant have a lady do his job? I will punish my lazy attendant at once..."

The woman stared at him, jaw-dropped, for a moment, then laughed.

"Pfffft! This food is mine, not yours!"

"Huh?"

Why would she bring her food to Claude's room?

She put the plate on the table and pointed at Claude.

"You stopped us here only to treat us like this?" she chided.

Claude glanced at the food. It was standard rations: two pieces of bacon sandwiched between two slices of blackwheat bread, a smoked sausage, a cup of red tea, and a plate of beef jerky potato stew. Even a second lieutenant had to eat it, though he had the luxury of an additional fried egg and a couple fruit.

"What's wrong? Does it not suit your taste?" he asked.

"Of course not!" she glared, "We're willing to stay here to clear our names, but we will not be treated like commoners! This food is barely qualified to be fed to my maids! I will not have it! You will serve me food fitting my person."

Claude's head throbbed. What the hell was she thinking? She was a detainee, she should be happy she was getting any food at all!

He would have preferred to chase her away, but he couldn't, lest his superiors decide she was worth a personal investigation and come to find her absent. Mazik had really made trouble for him. If the lady really was the daughter of that smith, he would have to endure and please her even if it infuriated him.

He came to attention and bowed slightly.

"Apologies, Milady, it was my mistake. I shall rectify it immediately. Please wait a moment. I will prepare a fitting meal."

The beauty's eyes sparkled.

"You're a noble too?"

Claude's greeting was so on point it got her wondering.

He shook his head, however, and yanked on a bell chain on one of the walls.

"No, Milady. I am of common birth, but my herbal medicine teacher is a noble, a baroness, in fact. She made me learn etiquette as part of my studies since she expects me to become a noble eventually. I've only just been promoted to second lieutenant, so I'm at best a quasi-noble."

Myjack entered.

"Your orders, Sir?"

"Bring a bottle of fruit wine from my room, and light the candelabra. I will treat the baroness to dinner here--" he turned back to the lady. "--Please have a taste of some wine from my personal collection while I have someone prepare dinner."

Chapter 232 - Charm

Claude didn't have much on hand, so he could only prepare something simple. However, the baroness tolerated it thanks to her newfound curiosity for the wonders he'd cooked up. Her appetite flourished and she downed each mouthful feverishly.

"The deep-fried potatoes will irritate your throat and stomach if you have too many, but they're tasty snacks. It wouldn't do to make them the main course," he advised.

Meat, fish, and fruits were indispensable for a dinner treat with a noble. But Claude only sourced meat. The village chief did have salted fish, but he treated them like family heirlooms. Claude took a glance at the blackening fish and did away with the notion of using them. They didn't have much fresh fruit either. He only had a small pack of candied fruit, which he could use as a replacement.

Meat, on the other hand, was high in supply. There were many people passing through the checkpoint that morning and Mazik bought a goat from the village and had it slaughtered to make mutton biscuits to sell at the checkpoint. There was a small part of the ribs remaining, which Claude had Myjack bring him. That was the main dish. Then, he got the village chief to bring him a hen. Plopping it in with some mushrooms made for some good soup. Then, he grilled some bacon and cut them into fish shapes to use them as ersatz fish.

He then had some of the soldiers on cooking duty skin some potatoes, cut them into thin pieces and deep fry them, making a large platter of fries and made a small bowl of fruit sauce to go with it. Seeing that there were still some eggs in the kitchen, he made some steamed egg custard. It took him a total of an hour to finish everything before he got Myjack and Gum to have the food served.

The baroness had a good hold on her liquor. She managed to empty the whole bottle of wine while waiting for the meal without batting an eyelid. Claude had no choice but to have Myjack fetch another bottle for the meal itself. He got the wine as part of the spoils when he first reached the three southern prefectures. There was a vineyard belonging to a noble near the edges of Pikleit Mountains. As the first soldiers to arrive there, the officers of 1st Ranger Tribe appropriated the vineyard without hesitation and split up the collection of alcohol within among themselves. Claude got two cartons of 24 bottles in total and a set of silverware utensils, which he used during the dinner.

"Why would you store your wine in your bedroom?" asked the beauty.

Where else could he hide it? He was down ten bottles in barely any time at all. The damned alcoholic Mazik pilfered three bottles without Claude even noticing. If he hadn't hidden them in his bedroom, he would have none left.

The desk in his office was covered with a clean, white linen cloth. The wine and food were served there and they were all illuminated by the candles on the candelabra. It looked somewhat like a proper candlelight dinner. Claude politely invited the lady to sit down and have a meal as he apologised for the lack of good ingredients.

The baroness wasn't the least bit interested in the main dish: the grilled mutton ribs. She merely poked it with her fork and said that it was too lean and overcooked without even bothering to have a taste. She had some three mushrooms from the chicken-mushroom dish and drank two mouthfuls of soup without touching the chicken at all. As for the bacon (read: fake fish) and the candied fruits, she only gave them a passing glance. The steamed egg custard, however, was to her liking and she finished it in one helping. She later tried the fries with fruit sauce and wolfed through it without a pause, finishing the whole platter herself.

She was in a chatty mood and began talking to Claude from the sofa. She did most of the talking. Claude only gave curt replies that probed her for further stories.

It was commonly thought that women were more emotional, and men more logical. Though men were still subject to their carnal impulses, they almost always regretted giving in after the fact. And women easily found themselves in the grasp of men the moment they surrendered themselves to establish a physical connection. Granted, there were always exceptions.

In his old life, Claude knew from his vast experience that the best way to give women a good impression was to listen patiently. Using money to get a woman into bed was the least classy way of going about things. That was nothing but flesh trade. Lonely women at the bar, usually, were white-collar workers who were there to relieve emotional stress rather than look for a proper partner. Even with the rapid pace of modern life in the concrete forest, the urge to connect with others to fend off loneliness was still ever present.

When men and women got together, most of them didn't want to brag, but rather, to talk about their troubles. In those times, good listeners who could empathise with their troubles, especially those of the opposite sex, was extremely welcome. Listening to a woman's troubles in full made one subconsciously considered a kindred soul. With the help of a few bottles of wine, spending a sweet night together was usually an inevitability.

They were already down to the fourth bottle of wine. Claude couldn't help but click his tongue. The beauty before him had drunk three and a half bottles by herself and was talking nonstop. After she just finished telling him about how she and her father, Master Boyd, had to rely on each other to survive as well as the time she spent as a nun in the moon goddess' shrine, she was now talking about how she met Baron Vaskiri and fell in love, got married, and how she ended up widowed and inheriting the title of baroness.

Indeed, this beautiful noble lady was a widow. Her husband was pitifully short-lived, having perished on the battlefield less than half a year after their marriage. It was a local conflict that took place between the Askilin and Canas nobles which were quite common from time to time. The nations themselves weren't dragged into it and most people at the top just let the nobles fight it out and wrap things up.

The lady lived quite a miserable life, though. Before her father got famous, her mother passed away, leaving only the two of them in this world. His father had to work at the armoury and she would wait the whole day until the night for him to return. But when her father became famous, their family gradually became richer. She was sent to study as a nun in the moon goddess's shrine and only returned home at the age of sixteen. Having nothing better to do, she often helped her father out in his research as his assistant.

Later, Baron Vaskiri came to her father to order a custom-made firearm. The moment he met her, he began fervently courting her. She also allowed herself to fall into the relationship and married the baron at the age of nineteen after two years of courtship.

The Vaskiri barony was located near the border of Canas. It comprised a town and two villages and the people there were sworn enemies of Canas. A few centuries ago, they had been weathering the raids of the Canasian nomads and great enmity soon developed between the two peoples. Even after the two duchies entered the Alliance against Aueras, the border conflicts still continued on.

Raiding at the Askilin border was a tradition that dated back a few centuries to the nomads of Canas. They were the aggressors and they saw the Askilin farmfolk as livestock, waiting for them to grow fat and rich before going in for the slaughter. It wasn't a surprise that the folks at the border soon began to regard the nomads as sworn enemies. They had paid countless lives and spilt senseless amounts of blood to fend off the raids.

House Vaskiri had been fighting the nomads for some ten generations. It so happened that the newlywed baron was attacked by a Canasian noble living near the border during one of his patrols through his fief and he suffered three shots before dying, leaving behind his grieving, newlywed wife.

The lady inherited her husband's title and handed the fief to her cousin-brother-in-law, also another landed noble, to manage. She left the place that held so many tragic memories and returned to her father's side. She had hoped that she could develop a musket that could help curb the nomad riders, but her work didn't yield many results after seven long years.

Wasn't there the Maxim gun that rendered cavalry useless? It was only a passing thought, so Claude didn't tell her about it, much as he sympathised with her. Even if he did, it wouldn't be possible to make the Maxim gun due to the recoil firing system. The technology of this world was still restricted to matchlocks, so who knew how much research had to be poured in to reach that kind of level of technology?

"C-claude... do you have.. more wine..." the lady asked as she swung the empty bottle around.

"Don't you think you've had enough already? You should rest now," Claude advised.

"No.. I... chatting with you... was me happy... I feel so much more... relaxed a-and... I'm not... sober... I mean... not drunk... I usually drink five bottles a night... I've only had little... it isn't much I-I know you're just being stingy... You don't want to let me drink more from your stash... right? I-I'll look for it myself... I know it's in your room..."

The noblewoman stumbled out of the office and Claude had no choice but to help her around.

With half her body plastered over his shoulder, Claude felt his urges boiling.

"I know your bedroom.. is... is over there... the one farthest in, right?" the lady said.

The door beside opened and Myjack looked out. At the sight, he hurriedly apologised.

"I didn't see or hear anything."

Claude didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But since the opportunity presented itself, he didn't feel like holding back.

He opened the door to his room and took her inside. After closing the door, they hugged and planted their lips on one another.

When they first kissed, the lady was still a little dazed and tried to push away, but couldn't muster the strength. Soon, she softened and hooked her arms around Claude's neck, taking the lead. She violated the inside of Claude's mouth with her tongue and the two started wrestling.

Claude's hands weren't idle. He raced them over her body as he felt her heat up. Their game soon became an outright wrestling match. Biting was involved at one point and his pants nearly ripped.

Not long after, the two went 'au naturel' like freshly sheared sheep and tumbled in the bed...

(Author's note: My prayers and offerings to the River-Crab God[1]... I'll be skipping four-thousand characters worth of detailed description of the two hours that ensued to save my beloved readers the cost of reading one premium chapter...)

The baroness was the first woman Claude bedded since coming to Freia. He had two realisations that night. Both left deep impressions on him. He was personally quite confident in the size and heft of himself, but he was still sensitive, which was to be expected given his body's inexperience, and his gates opened embarrassingly quickly. The light in the baroness' eyes dimmed considerably when that happened. He still had his youth, however, and all the benefits that went with it.

The other thing was that most of what she had said was true. She wouldn't lie to him. During their intimacy, she told him he was the second man she'd ever bedded, which he had suspected. It was the first time in seven long years that she had laid with another and her initial yearning flared strongly, hence her displeasure at Claude's first untimely discharge.

As a result of expending too much energy, Claude woke up rather late. He woke up to see the beauty half-laying on the pillow while looking intently at him. The blanket covered her up to her shoulders, but her beautiful collarbone and the alluring elevations in front of her were plainly visible.

"Madam..." Claude was quite embarrassed about last night. After all, it could be argued that he had taken advantage of her in a moment of weakness.

"Enough with the 'madam'. Call me Sonia." It seemed like she didn't regret what happened last night at all. The experience was enjoyable and cathartic for her.

Claude stretched his hand over and hugged her and allowed it to roam freely over her curves as while he sought after those alluring lips and went in for another kiss...

[1] Another name for China's internet censorship initiative. Read more here.

Chapter 233 - Discussion and Inspiration

In many ways, spending time with women was a great way to let loose and relieve tension. Soldiers on the battlefield just waiting to be shot easily developed psychological issues without outlets.

Claude finally understood why Berklin and the other nobles wanted to go to the tavern in Eimis after every excursion. Facing the enemy and watching one's friends die or get hurt did nothing good for the mind. Only good booze and quality time with women relax the heart after such experiences.

But Claude had great self-control and the killing was fine to him. As the war progressed, however, he grew less certain he'd survive and return home. The stress and tension gradually accumulated. Though he appeared confident and reliable to others, he did feel quite a bit of stress inside. He had been dreaming quite a bit about his adventures with Borkal, Welikro and Eriksson back in middle school lately.

Only now did he finally understand the wonders of women. Though he was tired last night, he slept really well and didn't dream at all. He woke up in the morning and did three sessions of 'morning stretches' with the baroness. The two cuddled all the way till noon before getting out of bed. Though he was worn out, he was relaxed and his mind sharp and ready. It was as if he had let go of a heavy burden and his thoughts were so much clearer. The worries that weighed on him were wiped clean instantly and he no longer appeared down from time to time like before.

"We received a reply by carrier pigeon this morning," Myjack said.

He had been waiting outside the door to hand Claude the letter the moment he got up.

The letter said HQ acknowledged the situation and that they would send people to investigate the relationship between Baroness Vaskiri and Liboyd Molowski. According to them, it might take up to three days, so they asked Claude to show the baroness good hospitality until they arrived, even warning him to not offend her no matter what. The letter was signed by Major Lederfanc.

Oh, he'd treat her well alright. He'd treat her to the warmest, sweatiest bed she'd ever touched.

"Take Gum with you and go to the nearby villages. Get me quality ingredients and fine wine. Be back by sunset. I have to cook for the baroness," Claude said as he tossed his subordinate a sack containing some seven crowns.

"Understood, Sir."

Myjack turned to look for Gum.

For lunch, Claude cooked another simple meal. He had a good appetite and ate seven fried eggs in one sitting. He had used a little too much energy the previous night and had to recover, after all.

The lady returned to his room to rest that afternoon. Her original room was inhabited by her two maids. Claude had to check on the mountain pass outpost, however, so he could not accompany her.

Mazik shot Claude an envious glance and gave him a thumbs-up. Only a fresh-faced officer like Claude could do what he'd just done, and done it so hard Mazik could hear it through the floor boards. He wondered aloud if he should accompany the two lonely maids.

Claude ignored the thumbs-up and asked about the number of people that went through the checkpoint, as well as the tent of mounted scouts that returned last night. The tent split into four groups of three riders to scout around Eastern Askilin and the Great Plains of Canas. They left in the morning and returned during the night when Claude was tending to the baroness, so they made their report to Mazik.

"Situation normal," Mazik said, dejectedly pulling his hand back after seeing Claude's disinterest at his thumbs-up, "Last night, the last group of scouts to return reported that they travelled around ten kilometres deep into the great plains and didn't see a single trace of enemy troops, hence their slightly delayed return."

"It's to be expected. The duchies of Canas and Askilin, unlike our kingdom, still use the feudal system. The two mountain paths here are actually private property in these duchies. Even if the military wishes to deploy their troops there, they have to get the approval of the nobles that own the land and give them appropriate compensation before they can come to attack us. Before negotiating the terms, the nobles won't allow the nation's forces to pass through their land."

"How can that be?" Mazik said, his mouth wide agape, "This is war! How can the nobles do that?"

Claude chuckled.

"There's nothing weird about it. The nobles only contribute the bare minimum they are obligated to in the form of money and troops. However, their hereditary fiefs are a whole different matter. They have proper sovereignty over their fiefs and the troops of the nation can only travel through highways owned by the nation. They won't easily enter private property. Only when the nobles' dominions are invaded would they allow their nation's military to step in and intervene. Otherwise, they would refuse letting any other force enter their fief and will resist with force even if they have to."

In the following few days, apart from the routine dinner and bedtime exercises, Claude talked a lot with the baroness and they soon found their common interest -- firearms. The beauty was the one to first draw a rough design about the modifications she envisioned. There were 48 muskets lined up in four rows on top of each other and mounted on a metal frame that could be rotated in the drawing. The frame could also be installed on carriages for mobility.

The rationale behind that design was so that these concentrated musket arrays could be used as fortifications to fire at incoming cavalry to cause maximum damage with bullet concentration. Claude shook his head in disagreement and pointed that they could only be used in one burst. Reloading took too much time after they fired and that wasn't practical on the battlefield. In fact, they would be even less effective than the light infantry cannons. The only advantage to that design was that it could simulate scatter shot rounds that reached further distances.

She had to admit that Claude had a good point. In fact, it was due to the impracticality of the design that it hadn't even been developed into the real thing. Her father had the same opinion as Claude in that only concentrated, continuous fire could stop the rapid advances of light cavalry. It was a shame that her design didn't allow for continuous fire.

The problem lied therein that Freian firearms designed had concentrated completely on muzzleloading for the past few centuries. Even Aueras, whose manufacturing was acknowledged to be the best in Eastern Freia, spent two long decades to develop muskets that could fire further than 350 metres. The kingdom's Aubass Mark 2 was famed for being ahead of the competition in terms of weight, shooting range, durability, quality and reliability.

That was the reason the accuracy mechanism of the Aubass Mark 3 was quickly replicated by the Alliance. Aueras already had the advantage in terms of weapons, but now, they had the added edge of accuracy. While the knockoffs produced by the Alliance couldn't shoot as precisely and far as their Aueran counterparts, the precise aiming technique was used to great effect by the Alliance to fend off the advancing Aueran troops.

The reason the baroness bought the two Aubass Mark 3s for a high price in the black market was to see whether she could get inspiration for new designs. She believed that precise aiming would indeed be effective to curb light cavalry, but the muzzleloading mechanism still frustrated her. Even the most practice soldier could only fire three rounds within a minute at most, assuming there were zero errors during the cumbersome reloading process.

So, when the beauty jokingly asked whether Claude had a better idea for a faster-loading firearm, Claude glared at her seriously for a moment and said, "I really don't understand why you musketsmiths have to slavishly stick to the matchlock design and make only minor changes to the weight, length of the barrel or shape of the parts. Why don't you consider a way to improve the ignition mechanism and the bullets? If you want to raise the rate of fire, maybe even make it possible to rapid-fire, then perhaps you can consider making weapons that can load from the back."

She still hasn't caught on to the last sentence Claude said. "Changes to the ignition mechanism and the bullets have long been considered, but the muskets that came from the fruit of that research couldn't compare to existing matchlocks used by the various nations. They are even inferior to hunting muskets. Research on those firearms don't have much of a future."

Claude sighed. "That's why you guys ran into a dead end with that kind of thinking. Think about it: matchlocks centuries ago definitely can't compare to their current counterparts. It's through slow and gradual improvements that they've become what they are today, mature and reliable designs.

"While the new prototypes can't shoot as far or lethal as current muskets, it's just a matter of time and effort poured into research. It'd definitely be possible to improve those muskets until they're as good as modern matchlocks. Perhaps when that time comes, it will mark a turning point in the history of firearms development. You'd be branching off and developing a firearm that's completely different from a matchlock."

The baroness stood there, stumped. She felt Claude's words had touched the depths of her psyche. She recalled what he had said moments earlier, "Do you think it's possible to load from the back? The breach, you mean?"

"Why not? I often think about how convenient it would be if we could just open a whole at the back of the gun to pop the bullet and powder in and close the whole back before shooting. Come to think of it, aren't there rounds with paper cartridges already containing the powder? If that's the case, I would only have to pop a single thing in from the breach. That'd be far more convenient."

"Go out for a moment and let me gather my thoughts..." Claude seemed to have opened a door to a new world in her mind. A torrent of ideas assailed her and inspiration came flooding in. Afraid that Claude would interrupt her train of thoughts, she shooed Claude out of the room.

Happy times often passed without one noticing. Four days later, Claude received a letter from HQ stating that the baroness' identity had been confirmed. She was indeed the daughter of Master Boyd, Baroness Vaskiri. Major Lederfanc ordered Claude to apologize to her for delaying her journey and extend an invitation to her and her father on the army's behalf to go to the capital for a tour of the national firearms research institute.

When the two were tussling about in bed the night before her departure, she told Claude she would go to Aueras with her father, but only after his health condition improved. She also said she would continue the research they'd discussed.

Three days after sending her off, Major Lederfanc came for an inspection.

Chapter 234 - Major Lederfanc's Inspection

"Our reward for conquering Blackmaple Castle is finally distributed," Lederfanc said as he lit a pipe he took out of nowhere, took a puff, and blew a smoke ring in the air.

Claude was just reminded.

"Why did they delay it for so long?"

"I'm not too sure myself. Maybe they threw our report aside cause they were busy attacking the three southern prefectures of Askilin. Since that just wrapped up, they finally had time to reply," he guessed.

"This time around, only you in our whole tribe got first class merit for minimising casualties. There are 20 or so others who got second-class and the rest all got third-class. Other than that, our whole tribe got first-class for leading the way for Bluefeather through Pikleit Mountains to Askilin," Lederfanc said happily.

Huh? There was only one first-class merit awarded for conquering Blackmaple but everyone got first-class for climbing through the smuggling path?

It didn't take long for him to understand what was happening. Conquering Blackmaple Castle didn't affect the war much as a whole, while Bluefeather's surprise attack on the three southern prefectures during winter completely overturned it. Nobody was against 1st Rangers being given first-class merit thanks to their vanguard efforts.

"You only need one more first-class merit to be promoted to first lieutenant," the major said a little enviously, "And you're only twenty-one. When I was your age, I was only working hard as a sergeant-major. I was only promoted to major this year, at 36. I'm still unsure whether I'll make general before I have to retire. You, on the other hand, get promoted almost monthly. If the war carries on, you'll catch up to me soon."

The Aueran military awarded three kinds of merit. Officers beneath the rank of captain required three first-class merits to be promoted. Conversely, first-class merits were equivalent to three second-class merits, and second-class merits were equal to three third-class merits. Logistics officers, like Major Lederfanc used to be, were awarded second-class merits for working one year without making big mistakes or causing disciplinary problems. It was one of the ways the kingdom awarded soldiers with promotions during peacetime.

Claude smiled bitterly.

"Don't say things like that. I'd rather serve as a logistics officer at the rear and slowly climb my way up than risk my life on the battlefield. There's no telling when my luck will run out at the harsh frontlines. If the war goes on, even if I get promoted, I'll still get sent to the frontlines. What's the point of getting glory if I'll die eventually anyway?"

Lederfanc was a close acquaintance, so Claude didn't have to put up any pretense with him. The two of them could talk about anything. While Bluefeather wasn't willing to let 1st Rangers have a share of their merit by letting them attack Askilin with them and had them posted at various checkpoints in the three southern prefectures, the rangers were rather pleased with the assignment as that meant that they wouldn't have to go on the battlefield. They would also be able to make a little something on the side.

The war had been going on for two and a half years now. Aueras currently had the upper hand, but the end still wasn't in sight. The Alliance still had some fight in them and there was no saying how long the war would last. Low-ranked officers like Claude worried more about whether they'd survive it and be able to return home than their promotions.

Lederfanc also understood that train of thought. He sighed and changed the subject. "I brought you your prize money, too. Two first-class merits come with six crowns. Sign here to claim it. Be sure to treat us to a meal tonight."

Claude signed his name and asked curiously, "Major, why did you come personally to give the prize? You could've just asked the guys from finance to do it."

Lederfanc shook his head.

"You might not know this, but most of the guys in the logistics department have some kind of backing. Even though it's wartime and they won't do anything to our supplies and weapons, it's not weird for them to pocket some of the prize money before giving them out. I used to be one of them, so I know.

"Our tribe is a new combat unit and as the officer in charge, I'm responsible for all of you. I decided to give the reward out myself to make sure none of it's pocketed along the way. I can also use this opportunity to check on our other units that are posted far away instead of sitting in my office signing things day in and out without any understanding on their status."

Claude shot him a thumbs-up. Major Lederfanc could exert real control over 1st Rangers by gaining some information about the other units as he went to distribute the prize money. That would also help reinforce the fact that he was the one who held true charge over the unit.

The major took a linen sack filled with coins out of his briefcase and tossed it to Claude. "How are you doing here? Anything odd happening at the two mountain paths leading to the Great Plains of Canas and Eastern Askilin? Come to think of it, your post here is a hot zone. If I were to guess where our tribe will be sent next, it would be here.

"Nothing out of the ordinary so far," he replied after some thought, "I questioned some refugees from the three southern prefectures and a few of them who crossed the paths said that they belonged to nobles and had to pay a toll to pass through.

"It's winter now and the paths are frozen hard. So, we can take two light infantry cannons with us. The two paths can also support carriages filled with passengers. According to the villagers here, carriages won't be able to pass through the mountain paths after the rainy season. The muddiness of the road is one thing, but the potholes all over them are the main problem. Large units won't be able to cross, but perhaps some workhorses may be able to travel through.

"As these two paths lead to noble domains, I believe the enemy won't attack us before the rainy season. The enemies and the landed nobles should take some time to gather their forces. And after the rainy season, there's nothing we have to worry about since the condition of the two paths would prevent any large unit from travelling through it, unless large-scale repairs are made beforehand.

"However, the two paths are connected to private noble fiefs. I believe the military of those nations won't be so generous as to pay for the repairs of the paths owned by the landed nobles. So, as long as they aren't able to bring any large cannons into battle, we'll be able to fend off a tribe of enemy forces easily with our two light infantry cannons."

"What if the enemy sends a whole line of troops here?"

Claude shrugged. "They won't be able to. The most they can send is a clan to attack us. Let me take you there to see. This is the junction of three different paths. Our encampments are located above the junction by about 20 metres. The enemy can only attack us if they go up the path leading to Squirrel Village. There's no way they can climb up at any other location.

"Our defences are set up at the upper left corner of Squirrel Village and we have the high ground. As long as we can defend the entrance to Squirrel Village, it doesn't matter how many troops the enemy has. However, I will need you to send more ammunition and food to us. I don't want to have to retreat because we ran out of supplies in the event of a drawn-out battle."

Lederfanc nodded. "Noted. I will have more supplies shipped over to you. Also, I'm going to set up another encampment on the path behind you and station a band of troops there. If a fight breaks out, our band can swiftly come to your aid and seal the path for good. Also, Claude, better make some preparations for being stationed here for longer than we initially thought."

Claude began to worry.

"Huh? You mean you're not sure how much longer we have to stay here? Shouldn't the keeper tribes be taking over soon? When did 1st Rangers become keepers?"

Lederfanc seemed rather troubled as well.

"The current situation necessitates we take over the keepers' role. Bluefeather moved through Pikleit Mountains relatively lightly and used the element of surprise to take over the three southern prefectures. Now, they're planning to build a defence line that can weather the attacks of a few hundred thousand troops after the rainy season. We'll require a large number of cannons and other heavy equipment.

"The three southern prefectures is the industrial centre of Askilin, but now, their production has been completely halted. Additionally, Their cannons are inferior to ours. Even the calibre is different. Bluefeather's logistics officers only managed to find some compatible ones, but there's still a large hole that needs to be filled. They keep rushing the rear to transport their cannons and other equipment there.

"You're someone who crossed the smuggling paths yourself and you should know that it's really hard to bring cannons and the like through them. But the top gave us the order to expand the paths before we transport the goods. We have to get the heavy equipment to Bluefeather before the rainy season in time for them to begin setting up the defences.

"The top plans to have Bluefeather lead the two irregular corps into the three southern prefectures and seal off the rear of the Alliance's forces in Rimodra to mount a coordinated pincer attack with the royal guard corps. As long as they can keep the 100-thousand-strong forces of the Alliance in Rimodra and force them to surrender, the backbone of the Alliance would've been broken by us for good. There's no way that they'd be able to rise again.

"Bluefeather believes that they won't be able to resist the enemy's attempt of breaking through their line with their muskets alone. Currently, those two irregular corps haven't entered the three southern prefectures and are still repairing the roads in Pikleit. The rear and Bluefeather are also forcing the captives to work so that a path through which the equipment can be transported can be built quickly.

"So, the keepers at the rear can't take over for us. The top is only using the bare minimum from their ranks to keep the pressure on the Alliance by attacking them on the frontlines. The rest of the people are sent to Pikleit Mountains for road building so that the plan to trap the Alliance in Rimodra can be carried out after the rainy season to seal the deal for good."

Having understood the plan, he mulled over it and said, "Defending our position here should be fine, but you need to provide us with some linen sacks and digging tools. It's winter now and I believe our enemies won't attack yet. But it's a whole different story after the rainy season. I want to construct a defensive stronghold just in case."

"Linen sacks and digging tools?" Lederfanc shook his head. "These two objects are lacking everywhere. Most of them have been assigned to the road construction effort. You can't find any more of them in our warehouses. I heard all such items in shops across the three prefectures have been appropriated by Bluefeather. Oh, doesn't Squirrel Village have some? I'm sure they'll lend them to you."

"You mean to say I should borrow them?"

He needed dozens of shovels and hoes, but the only metal objects Squirrel had were two iron woks. Most of their farming tools were made of wood. What good would they be?

Looking at the run-down sheds in the village not far away, the major more or less understood Claude's predicament. After some thought, he said, "How about this... I'll try to get you some hoes and shovels. But I won't be able to get you any linen sacks. Perhaps you can have the villagers make some and buy it from them."

Claude nodded. "Alright, we'll do that then."

Chapter 235 - Secret

The people travelling through the mountain path gradually decreased after the major left. The ones that ought to leave had already done so and the few people who did come were peddlers who braved the cold weather to sell some goods. They came with their donkeys hauling two large baskets each filled with all sorts of goods, going through one village after another in the mountains to earn the villagers' hard-earned coppers.

However, they were willing to use their own goods to exchange a kind of medicinal paste from Squirrel Village. The paste was a dark green colour. It was said that the paste was really effective for treating colds. Claude believed it was some kind of folk remedy the villagers used to treat ailments since they didn't have an actual apothecary. The remedies were usually made by crushing herbs found in the mountains into paste.

It was already the middle of the second month. The snow had begun to melt. The hard ice that froze over the mountain path slowly gave way to wet, muddy ground. It was weather with which nobody was pleased. Even though it was still rather chilly, the heat that melted the ice on the ground caused it to be incredibly moist. It was easy for people to get fevers during those times.

Claude had no choice but to decrease the number of soldiers posted on duty outside. Mazik and his band's checkpoint had been making good money at that checkpoint he set up. After handing up the lion's share to tribe headquarters, and Claude's share of two crowns or so, the rest of the soldiers in his band got a little more than one thale. Naturally, Claude didn't really need that small amount of money and he instructed for it to be used to buy a few pigs and goats and kegs of blackwheat ale for his men.

Upon thinking about the matter of linen sacks, Claude asked Myjack to summon the village chief and told him about it. Initially, Claude thought that the village chief would be overjoyed to hear about the opportunity to make some money. However, the village chief disappointed him with news that they didn't have much linen in stores. The chief did suggest they could use old vines to make grass sacks instead of linen ones, which Claude approved.

As promised, the ammunition and supplies Lederfanc said he would get had been delivered. There was the additional light infantry cannon. It was one produced in Askilin which could fire rounds approximately the size of fists for around 300 metres. It couldn't fire scattershot and was phased out because of it. The only benefit it offered was its ability to be disassembled and carried around on a workhorse to wherever it was needed.

Bluefeather couldn't care less about a firearm that could only shoot normal rounds over short distances, so Lederfanc sent it along with the other supplies since there was no harm. The one in charge of the shipment was Moriad. He was tasked to set up camp in Blackstone Village, some ten kilometres away from Squirrel Village, with his band of men after finishing the shipment so that they could respond to any call for help should battle break out at Claude's position.

The moment he saw Claude, Moriad began to complain endlessly about how hard the mountain path was to traverse. The mud was one thing, but having to clean them off the workhorses' hooves and the carriages' wheels near constantly was a huge pain. Fortunately, most of the snow on the path hadn't completely melted and two-wheeled carriages could still pass through.

The supplies they transported was estimated to last sixty-odd men for two months. Even if there was an enemy attack, they could use the terrain to their advantage and hold off for a long time with sufficient ammunition. They could also rely on the backup provided by Moriad's band of men. It wouldn't be too difficult to seal off the mountain path to ensure that the enemy wouldn't use it to enter the three southern prefectures.

Moriad said that Major Lederfanc ordered for some ten-odd unimportant outposts to be abolished after inspecting the checkpoints across Pikleit Mountains. With the extra men, he fortified a few other strongholds and there were two extra bands of men in the tribe. Even the former outpost Moriad was defending was taken down and his band was sent to Blackstone Village as backup for Claude. He would be setting up a second line of defence there as well.

Additionally, the initial phase of repairs for the transportation routes through Pikleit Mountains was completed. Bluefeather's heavy equipment and large calibre cannons were being transported through it nonstop. The corps was transferring all available personnel to set up a defence line at the border between Rimodra and the three prefectures. They forced countless civilians from the prefectures to help construct those fortifications.

Rimodra and the Alliance's army had also gotten wind of the loss of Askilin's three prefectures and were beginning to show signs of crumbling. The Aueran forces managed to break through a few of their defensive lines. A folk of light-cavalry troops from the forces of Canas was sent to the three prefectures to inspect the situation, but it was almost completely annihilated. Only a few hundred of their men managed to escape. The top brass of the Alliance's army concluded that they were encircled heavily and didn't dare to leave Rimodra. That gave Bluefeather the time they needed to construct the fortifications.

Bluefeather's legendary arrival in the three southern prefectures and their occupation thereof was the most attention-catching part of the war. Aueras attacked at an opportune time in winter and understood the terrain of Pikleit Mountains well enough to mount that massively successful offensive.

Usually, winter was a time when not much activity occurred. The Alliance's army in Rimodra didn't do much apart from maintaining their defences. Most of their men were resting in their camps and they weren't able to respond effectively to sudden changes. When they first received word that the enemy showed up in the three southern prefectures of Askilin, some of them even thought it was a drunken prank.

It took a month for them to verify that it was true, which was more than enough time for Bluefeather to prepare. By then, the top brass of the Alliance believed it was merely a small unit of Aueran troops engaging in harassment attacks in the three prefectures and weren't willing to send a large unit to mount a counterattack during winter as they were worried that a large portion of their forces would be diverted.

On the other hand, the Aueran attacks at the Rimodran frontlines also put a lot of pressure on the Alliance. Most of their high command believed the occupation was merely propaganda disseminated by the Auerans to divert the Alliance's attention and drain them out during winter by depriving them of rest. After days of discussion, they finally decided to send a folk of light cavalry to the three prefectures to check things out.

By then, Bluefeather's position was already strong and secure. When their scouts at the frontlines realised that only one folk of light cavalry was sent out, Bluefeather emerged from their nest and set up an ambush at a path the folk would no doubt pass through to enter the three prefectures -- Columbo Valley -- and managed to obliterate the folk. The Alliance, however, got the wrong message and believed that Bluefeather was on a full-on offensive from the three prefectures. So, they didn't send any more units to counterattack and gave Bluefeather enough time to further fortify their defences.

Claude was quite interested in how quickly the irregular corps had renovated the routes to allow for the transportation of heavy equipment. 1st Rangers had to go through thick and thin to find their way through Pikleit Mountains, so Claude knew well about the condition of the route. It was one thing to cross it while travelling lightly, but attempting to go through with heavy equipment like cannons was exceedingly difficult. There were many places that had to be climbed over which were impossible for four-wheeled carriages to cross.

However, Moriad was quite up to date with the latest information and had heard quite a lot about what was going on behind the scenes. He told Claude that Bluefeather's passage through Pikleit Mountains, the reconstruction of the route through the mountains as well as the extermination of the enemy folk came all from the plans of a major-general in the kingdom.

He was called Miselk Priest, a man of common birth. He was 48 eight years old and used to be a war history lecturer in Stellin War College in the royal capital. He followed the first prince to the frontlines and joined the staff and was the one who drafted those strategies. He earned the prince's favour as a result and was promoted to be a new staff officer in Bluefeather.
As
Ever since crossing Pikleit Mountains, Major-General Miselk instructed the two irregular corps to fell trees and use the wood to overhaul the route. In a short two-odd months, a wooden route through which heavy equipment like cannons could be transported was built. After receiving word of the enemy light-cavalry folk heading their way to the three southern prefectures, the general rushed back to Bluefeather and convinced the top brass to set up an ambush at Columbo Valley, which led to the complete elimination of the folk and giving the enemy a false impression that Bluefeather was going to launch an all-out offence, prompting them to take hurried defensive manoeuvres and earning Bluefeather much needed time.

Moriad's eyes shone when he spoke and his voice was filled with admiration. "The latest word is that Miselk Priest was promoted to lieutenant-general thanks to his contributions. There were also rumours that the first prince had requested His Majesty to confer upon him the title of viscount and the sobriquet 'Kor'. If that is true, then Miselk Priest would be the first soldier to be ennobled through participating in this war."

It was apparent that the lieutenant-general was a rising star in the Aueran military. What made Claude wonder was why a major-general like Miselk was only of common birth. Usually, general-rank officers were nobles. Even if he was a dignitarian, he should've been given noble status while receiving the major-general rank. Yet, Miselk didn't have that. Was there a story behind it?

It was too bad Moriad wasn't Berklin. That fellow was an expert when it came to looking deep for more information. Nothing he was interested in, whether it be what colour pajamas someone liked to wear, was beyond his reach. Moriad's admiration, however, was normal and expected of a soldier to have towards a general. No soldier wouldn't wish to be able to serve such an accomplished and capable general.

Moriad stayed for a night before leaving with his men. The rest of Claude's days passed uneventfully. While he wanted to assemble his men for training, that kind of weather would defeat the whole purpose. Having nothing better to do than to watch the dark clouds above, he went to the village for a walk to check on how the vine sacks were coming along.

He had heard the village chief mention a waterfall and a plunge pool nearby, so he decided to pay a visit. The chief, on the other hand, grew anxious at being asked where it was located and hurriedly said that there were water demons in the plunge pool as well as wolves and bears in the mountains. Given that the rainy season was almost upon them at the end of the 2nd month, the hibernating black bears would've awakened and would be searching for food in the wilderness. It would be dangerous for people to travel there.

Almost every villager attempted to dissuade him from going into the mountains, which only served to stoke his suspicion. They were trying to hide something. Naturally, he pretended to accept their suggestion and appear as if he decided not to go to the mountains, much to the villagers' relief.

"Myjack, pay attention to the villagers and report to me if they are up to anything odd. I suspect they're hiding something from us," he instructed after he returned to camp.

A day later, Myjack reported with bloodshot eyes. "Sir, I noticed that the old woman from the village chief's house went out at ten in the night to the mountains. But she didn't go far and left a small basket she brought there on a slope of the before returning. This morning, I saw her go up the mountains again to retrieve the basket, but it seems to be a different one. I recall that the one she took there the day before was a rectangular shaped one, but the one she returned with this morning was oval shaped."

Claude nodded. The villagers were indeed hiding something. "You haven't slept the whole night, right? Go get some rest. Get Gum to take your place tonight and report to me immediately if the villagers go up the mountains again."

Two days later, just after Claude lied down for some rest, Myjack called out to him. "Sir, the hag is going up to the mountains again..."

Chapter 236 - Black Wolf

When Myjack was just about to go up the mountains with Claude and Gum, they saw the old woman coming back. He wasn't in a rush, so he whispered to his companions.

"Sir, I saw her go up with a basket. She doesn't have it now, so she must have left it in the wild."

"Let's go and have a look. I'm curious about what was in the basket," Claude said.

What in the world were the villagers hiding?

The basket was easy to spot. Myjack noticed that it had been placed under a large cherry blossom tree the last time. It was the most obvious spot in the wood. It rested on a moss-covered stone now.

The three snuck closer quietly. The content was covered with a linen cloth. Claude perked his ears, ensured nobody was nearby, and pointed at the basket.

"Check what's inside."

Gum lit his torch and Myjack lifted the linen cover. Inside was nothing but half a loaf of black bread, a small wheat biscuit, a smoked sausage, and a small packet of salt.

"This ought to be food from our canteen. The village chief bought exactly this with a couple coppers," Myjack said.

They'd had a surplus of food lately, so they'd taken to selling some of the harder-to-preserve rations. They were due another shipment in the third month, so they really didn't need that much food. Claude really had wasted food this time. There really was no reason to requisition that much.

Gum looked at the basket.

"Sir, I think someone from the village is hiding in the mountains. I don't see another reason to leave food here. This doesn't look like a shrine to a god, so it's definitely not an offering. And it's only about enough for one meal."

It may be just one meal's worth for Gum, it was worth at least two day's food for a normal person. Claude was disappointed. He had guessed a young widow had fled to the mountains when she heard about foreign soldiers coming to the town. No wonder the village elders and the chief had tried so hard to dissuade him from going into the forest and up the mountain.

"Let's go. Put out the torch and follow me. What a waste. I thought they were hiding something interesting."

He wasn't that interested in young widows, but he stopped after suddenly feeling something was off.

First, the villagers didn't have any strong national sentiments. The only people from outside the village they really knew as Baron Norwelik Wey Frinslan and his men. And then they only knew them as oppressors and exploiters. Claude and his men were considered liberators.

Claude had made sure to tell them there would be no lord lording over them anymore. They were genuinely happy and had embraced Claude's arrival whole-heartedly. His band also treated the villagers fairly and amicably. They'd even found them some odd jobs here and there. Logically, they should be able to share any secret they had.

It was starting to seem more and more like they weren't trying to hide a young widow. The chastity of widows had fallen on the societal priority list in recent years. As Mazik had said, young widows were generally quite welcoming of soldiers. Not only would they be given an opportunity to make good money, they might even conceive a child on which they could rely later in their life.

"We'll hide nearby and wait to see what happens to the basket," Claude decided.

The three hid behind the trees on a patch of rocky ground some forty metres away from the basket where they could still see the basket clearly.

Not long after, a black shadow darted past the tree and approached the basket.

Myjack clutched Claude's shirt nervously. Claude and Gum's eyes were wide open. They would never have dreamt of seeing something similar.

A black wolf the size of a pony stood beside the stone. Its two quiet, green eyes glowed in the darkness, but it bit onto the handle of another basket. It put its basket down next to the stone, and, just as it was about to bite into the new basket's handle, it lowered its head and started sniffing. After a while, it started growling at Claude and company.

The black wolf approached slowly, then stopped, turned around, and stared at the basket. It paced in circles while growling as if it really wanted to leap at Claude, but couldn't when it thought about the basket.

This continued for several minutes, then it finally took a deep sniff, and took the basket and darted away.

The three snapped out of their daze several moments later. The notion of an animal coming to retrieve the basket hadn't occurred to them at all.

"This... is this wolf a spirit? I heard the old folks say some magic beasts can speak the human tongue and are really intelligent," Myjack muttered.

"You're talking about the dragon. In the books, only dragons know how to speak, black wolves don't. This black wolf is obviously trained by someone. That's why it could suppress its natural instincts. A normal black wolf would've pounced us the moment it smelled us. The food inside the basket is for people, not for wolves after all." Claude gave Myjack's head a knock and told Gum, "Light the torch again. Let's see what's in the basket the wolf brought here."

There were two small bottles made from green-coloured clay about the size of Claude's fists and capped with loose corks. When they were opened, a sweet odour came out.

"This is wild honey," Claude said after he gave it a taste.

Myjack opened another bottle and said, "Ptooey! This smells real bad. Is it some kind of medicine?"

Claude took a look and thought, isn't this the dark-green paste the villagers use for fevers and colds? The few of the sick soldiers drank a large bowl of the paste mixed with some water and recovered after a night of sweating. It seemed to work better than normal cold medicine.

Claude had attempted to ask the village chief to sell him the recipe for a huge price of five crowns, but the chief wouldn't give it no matter what. Claude thought it might be a precious ancestral recipe, so he didn't force him to do so. Now, he found out that the village chief had traded the paste with someone else.

At the sight of the dark woods, Claude said after some consideration, "Put the things back. We're going back."

"Sir, don't you want to see who's hiding up there?" Myjack asked.

"It's not someone from the village," Claude replied, "It should be some hermit who doesn't want to show their face. Even though I want to know who they are, I don't want you two to do something so risky. Someone who can tame such a large black wolf is definitely not normal. As long as they don't get in our way, let them be. Someone who would bother to trade with the villagers probably isn't a bad person anyway."

"Sir, even if they can tame a black wolf like that, they shouldn't be able to take on us with our muskets, right? Why don't we get the rest to search the whole mountains behind the village? I doubt they'd be able to hide from us," Gum said, still rather dissatisfied.

Claude smiled and shook his head. "There's no need. The mountains are vast and there are tons of places to hide. We don't have any qualms with them anyway, so why bother going through all that trouble? Even though we will be staying here for quite a while, the villagers think we're only passing by. Let them continue to keep their secret. We'll pretend to not notice anything if they don't get in our way."

"Yes, Sir. We'll listen to your orders," the two said in unison.

"Go get some rest today. Don't tell the other soldiers about what you saw here lest they get curious and search that person out. Sometimes, even our muskets can't protect us. That black wolf has a sensitive sense of smell and it'll be hard to catch them off guard. I don't want any of our brothers to get hurt because of their curiosity, got it?" Claude warned sternly.

The warning made them consider the consequences and they hurriedly resolved themselves to not tell anyone about what happened.

"Alright, I trust you two. I need you both to go back to base tomorrow and ask Major Lederfanc for some insect repellant for the mountains and some medicine. The weather's getting warm again and the insects are back. We need to insect-proof our campsite soon. I will also give you some money to purchase some good ingredients from town. Get me some good blackwheat ale and fruit wine. I doubt the two bottles in my room will last. Mazik has been trying to rob me of them."

Myjack and Gum broke out laughing. Mazik's alcoholic cravings had begun to act up recently but there wasn't anything to drink in the camp. All that was left were the two bottles in Claude's room, which he had been begging to be given a sip from. But no matter what he tried, he wasn't able to get any. He even gambled Claude for them only to lose all the money he had on him. Having no other choice, he took two days of leave and went to Blackstone Village where Moriad was to swindle some booze for his addiction.

"Sir, are you buying them for Sergeant-Major Mazik?" Myjack asked.

Claude laughed. "That fellow already lost all his money to me, so he won't have much left for alcohol. I'm only buying some to let him have his fill for now. I already advised him to quit drinking if he wants to get promoted to second lieutenant. Otherwise, it'd be hard for him to climb the ladder. But he said he can't because it's a habit he picked up from the battlefield. He would always get himself dead drunk after surviving every battle or he wouldn't be able to sleep. He's actually rather pitiful in that regard."

"By the way, Sir, with the mountain path in such a bad state, what do we do if the carriage with the alcohol can't pass through?" Gum asked.

"We'll just spend a little more money to hire some workhorses to transport them. I can still afford an expense like that."

Chapter 237 - Wolf and the Maiden

Seeing Myjack and Gum ride away from the base, Claude finally breathed a sigh of relief. He had to find a reason to get them to leave because he didn't want to bring them to the mountains to look for the person in hiding. There were many things he didn't want them to find out, after all, such as the fact that he was a one-ring rune magus. He also believed the person out there could be a rogue magus. Normal people couldn't possibly tame such a large black wolf.

Though it did strike him as odd. If the mystery person that could tame such a huge black wolf really was a rogue magus, their personality was probably a little too easygoing. Other things aside, Claude believed that, if it were him, he wouldn't be able to stay in the mountains for long based on the food alone. Who could bear with eating food so bland for so long?

The black bread, sausages and salt were all military rations to boot. If Claude's unit hadn't stopped at that village, all the villagers could provide would be baked wheat biscuit. He figured that the person in question was probably physically impaired in some way to the point of needing a beast to fetch around the baskets to trade medicines for food. But upon further consideration, the possibility seemed rather remote. There was another bottle of wild honey inside the basket yesterday, and only able-bodied people would be able to procure such things. Unless, of course, the mysterious tamer also had a bear that didn't fear wild bees in her palm.

The other possibility was that the tamer was a shut-in who refused to leave the mountains so strongly that they were willing to stomach the bad food. Claude found it rather curious the night before and thought up an excuse to get Myjack and Gum away before deciding to enter the mountains to check if the tamer was a rogue magus.

He slung his bag and a musket over his back after packing what he needed and before telling Mazik that he was going to the mountains for a walk to see whether there was something worth hunting. He said he might return in two days if his luck was bad. Since the rainy season was coming in a few more days, he would have to wait for about twenty days if he didn't hunt immediately.

Mazik was rather glad and didn't ask many questions. Perhaps he couldn't wait for Claude to leave. He agreed heartily and told Claude that he may rest assured and hunt, promising that there would be no problems under his watch. Claude smiled and left, knowing well that Mazik would definitely go for the two bottles of fine wine in his room during his absence. But whether he would find it was a whole nother question altogether. He knew that Mazik would be trying to sneak it away from him, so he had hidden it somewhere long ago.

Claude didn't go to the mountains from Squirrel Village and instead embarked from the left side of the camp. There was a small path that led to a small valley of around one hectare of mountain farmland there run by the folks of Squirrel Village. It was the largest plot of farmland they had and they had planted the winter wheat not long ago. However, the coat of snow that covered it hadn't yet melted. White nothingness stretched to the ends of his vision.

He recalled that there was a route heading up into the mountains from the valley, probably used by foragers in the mountain woods searching for herbs or firewood. The villagers wouldn't discover him if he took this path up the mountains, but it was rather difficult to traverse. He spent half a day climbing up the first slope and his uniform ended up covered in much mud. He wiped himself clean with a few piles of snow and ignored the stains that were left behind.

After scaling the slope, the journey got much easier. Even though the weather was getting warmer -- spots of green could be seen in the wood as much of the snow started to melt, revealing the black, red and brown mountain rock underneath -- most of the ground was still coated with snow and incredibly slippery. He had to exercise quite a bit of caution while traversing the icy paths so as not to slip, and avoid muddy puddles where snow was absent.

The waterfall and plunge pool the villagers mentioned was still quite some ways away. Claude had to pass through the pine forest and scale a few more hills before he would arrive at the foot of the large mountain. It was no different from taking a large detour. If he had taken the small path from the north of Squirrel Village, it would save him at least half the journey.

However, it was used by the villagers who went up the mountains to forage for herbs and firewood. Claude chose the further route to remain undetected by them. It was as if he had gone back to his hunting days and forgot his identity as a soldier. He felt free and unbound and his mood turned rather joyous.

There were some poisonous insects and vines in the pine forest, so he had to watch out for those apart from making sure the steps he took were stable. But that was the extent of obstacles he had to worry about. Two squirrels that had just awakened from hibernation dashed across the pine branches and startled some birds. Spring had come and life was beginning to return to the pine forest.

Claude removed his musket and was just about to light it when he decided against it. There were a few wood-grouses feeding beneath a pine tree up ahead. Claude had wanted to shoot them, but the thought of the shot spreading far and disclose his presence changed his mind. He was in the wilderness, so he could do without his musket and resort to his spells instead.

Those grouses were considerably fattened up. Claude approached quietly and hid behind a tree some five metres away. With two audible 'bangs', he cast two Mental Shock spells and fell two of the grouses. He rushed there hurriedly and ignored the three other grouses, which scurried deeper into the woods. He grabbed the two grouses that were flapping their wings desperately and snapped their necks before hanging them on his bag. He would be having them for lunch.

There were many fine ingredients for food in the pine forest. Claude picked some pine mushrooms and St. George's mushrooms along the way, which could be stuffed in the fowls when preparing Beggar's Chicken. It took him more than an hour to walk out of the pine forest. He scaled a small hill and took out his telescope to scout out the surroundings.

There wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He didn't even spot any signs of human activity. It seemed that it was quite difficult to find a person hiding in the wilderness. He decided to head to the waterfall and plunge pool first before thinking about what to do next since the villagers panicked when he mentioned he wanted to check those spots out. The person probably lived nearby those parts.

After scaling another small hill, he could hear the sound of gushing water nearby. He looked at the large mountain in front of him and chose a gentle slope to scale. Most of the slope was rock, so he didn't need to worry about his clothes getting dirty. However, when he made it to the peak, he realised he had overshot his destination. The waterfall was near a valley whereas he was standing on the ridge of the mountain.

He spent another half hour searching for the way down and finally reached the top of the waterfall. There were a few streams that met before the waterfall. He could see the whole valley from his vantage point.

Down in the valley was a large, green plunge pool. The waterfall's water fell into the plunge pool beneath before flowing out through the valley. Beside the plunge pool was a small slope covered densely with trees. The other three sides of the hill were steep cliffs. If Claude wanted to go to the plunge pool, he had to travel around the ridge of the valley through the forest on the slope to reach it.

He looked to the sky and estimated that it was around two in the afternoon. He hadn't had any lunch yet, so he decided to take a short break on the ridge. He put the grouses beside the stream and got ready to prep it for a meal.

He found some dried twigs to use to remove the innards of the grouses and stuff them full of mushrooms, before digging a round hole in the ground and putting the chicken inside. He piled the twigs up atop the chicken and set them on fire. They should be ready in half an hour, and it was enough time to clean up his uniform with water from the streams and bake them dry with a fire.

By the time he started eating, it was around three. He took out two pieces of blackwheat bread from his bag and dipped it in the juices from the chicken as he looked down into the valley. He had scanned the valley with his telescope and didn't find any trace of human activity. That made him wonder why the villagers warned him against coming here if the person wasn't hiding here anyway.

By the time he was more or less finished, he suddenly found some movement in the forest on the slope below. He hurriedly put his fire out. Fortunately, the twigs he used were dry and not much black smoke came about when he doused the flames. Given that the wind was blowing upwind, anyone below wouldn't notice the fire. He laid down on a rock and carefully looked down at the valley.

A large black wolf emerged from the forest and jumped down from rock to rock beside the plunge pool in a practiced manner. That was the very same wolf that came to retrieve the basket. His mind snapped awake and he had finally found a trace of his target. However, the wolf oddly lied down on a rock beside the plunge pool even though it didn't look like its usual turf.

A few trees in the forest shook before a large black bear fumbled out of the forest. Curiously, the bear seemed to be walking weakly on two feet towards the pool.

The black wolf ignored the bear. When it reached the pool, it splashed some water onto the wolf but the latter merely grunted in dissatisfaction without making the slightest movement.

Weird... What is this bear up to? Is it there to drink water or hunt for fish?

All of a sudden, the black bear stood up on two legs and its chest opened to reveal a woman with chalky complexion and long, black hair. She stepped out of the skin of the bear and slipped into the pool.

This... this bear was a young woman in costume all along! No wonder it looked so weird and off! Claude watched the womanly figure swim about in the pool and couldn't help but bend down to test the temperature of the stream beside him. It was indeed a little warm. It was no wonder the woman would swim in the pool.

Claude peeked with his telescope and saw that the woman in the pool was indeed rather young, being no older than seventeen. She also spotted a rather ample bust and her developing, pubescent body looked fresh and innocent. Beyond her long, black hair that covered her face were some green lines that looked to be disguise face paint Claude had seen in some military flicks. However, the shape of her face was beautifully sculpted. It was neither oval nor almond shaped, but a unique combination of both. He couldn't tell the colours of her large eyes. It seemed to be black at times, and purple others.

As he was getting his fill of the view, the black wolf next to the pool stood up all of a sudden while sniffing the air before barking wildly in Claude's direction.

The scent of the fowls he cooked was a little too strong and wafted down to the valley for the nose of the wolf to pick up. He was only some thirty-odd metres above the pool and it didn't take too long for the wolf to locate the peeping Claude.

The girl looked towards where the wolf was barking at. Claude felt rather awkward for being caught peeping, so he stood up courageously and waved to her. "Hey..."

The girl darted towards the shore in a panic and weaselled into her bare skin before stumbling back into the forest. The black wolf barked a few more times before tagging along.

Claude yelled, "Hey, wait! I come in peace!"

But he was ignored. Soon, not a trace of them could be seen on the slope. Only the sound of the rustling breeze could be heard.

Chapter 238 - The Shack Beneath the Rubber Tree

Claude took more than half an hour to reach the valley. He headed straight for the side of the pool. He had scoured the slope next to it on the way down, but he hadn't seen a trace of the black wolf or the girl. He thus had no choice but to search around the pool.

He went to the spot where the girl had donned the bear pelt and began his tracking with the bear print trail left behind on the ground. The sky was already rather dark, and it was even darker within the forest. Claude had no choice but to cast a Luminous Pearl and hold it in his hand, using its light to guide his way. It was an uninhabited area, so he was free to use his spells without worrying about being discovered.

It might be because she had panicked, but she had left a trail so obvious one had to be blind not to see it. Claude followed it out of the forest and crossed another slope before it disappeared into the forest again. Wolves howled in the distance. The wolf might've detected Claude in pursuit.

He had a feeling the two would be in the forest. That should be where their hiding place was. He put out the ball of light in his hand and ventured into the trees.

The small forest was far less dense than the previous one he came out of. Most of the leaves hadn't sprouted from this one, so the natural lighting was much better and he could still use it to find his way. After only taking ten steps in and stepping onto a piece of stone, a dull poof could be heard as black smoke appeared in mid-air and shot at his face.

He made a hurried retreat out of the forest. The puff spread out and covered some three square metres and blocked his way. Claude gave it a slight whiff and almost threw up.

It was poisonous smog. He had stepped on some sort of booby trap, which was probably set up as a security measure by the girl hiding within to stop pursuers, human or beast, who were charging into the forest. However, it was easy to deal with. Claude took a few fresh breaths, gathered his thoughts, and traced a spell formation in the air. He cast Air Barrier on himself, along with a Projectile Barrier.

Maria had always held the opinion that there wasn't much use for Air Barrier, as all it did was insulate the air and its temperature within and outside it. She believed the best it could be used for was to survive some five more minutes in a fire. Though, it was probably her good living conditions that made it unnecessary for her to rely on such a spell.

Claude was different. He believed that there were no useless spells, only wrongfully applied ones. This spell, for instance, was the perfect counter to the poison smog before him. He would be fine within five minutes of using the spell even if he touched some of the smog.

He triggered three smog traps in total before he entered the deeper part of the forest. He found it rather curious that there wasn't any other type of trap apart from the smog trap. So, he used Eye of Appraisal and looked ahead, only to end up flabbergasted.

What shocked him was the dense mana ripples in the forest ahead of him. Most of them were dissipating gradually while others seemed rather recent. There were obvious signs of spells being used within the day itself. Claude turned back and saw that the ripples were far less dense in comparison, with the spots where he triggered the three traps seeming to have higher concentrations.

In other words, the locations with dense, current-day ripples were where the traps were laid. Claude avoided those ripples and made his way deeper into the forest. Now, there were obvious signs of human activity, such as a row of shrubs that seemed to be cultivated blueberries. Claude remembered seeing those shrubs at the farms of Whitestag.

Ahead of him was a large, empty plot of land where half the snow had melted. He crossed a few more trees and reached the very border of the plot of land and saw in the middle of it a large, rubber tree. Beneath it was a humbly sized, run-down shack within which stood the large black wolf that glared at him as he came out of the forest.

After growling lowly, the wolf dashed for Claude like a black lightning bolt.

"Bang!" Claude cast Mental Shock. It was far more useful towards an animal than a human. The black wolf staggered and fumbled midway and shot Claude a slightly dazed look, as if it was confused what it was there to do. It circled the ground twice before looking back at Claude with hostility.

"Bang!" Claude used another Mental Shock. The wolf shook its head hard, came to sniff the ends of Claude's pants, before running hurriedly back. He watched as the poor animal scurried back to the shed and noticed that the girl had appeared next to it with a spear in hand.

"Hey, I come in peace. I'm a magus too. Can I see your guardian?" Claude asked with both his hands raised.

The girl ignored him and removed her bear skin in front of him. She was clothed underneath, but the outfit she wore was stitched together with different furs. It looked a little like clothing worn by beggars. She bent down to stroke the black wolf before pointing at Claude. The wolf began growling again before it charged once more.

After two bangs, the wolf sniffed his pants before scurrying away.

"Don't make it run to me again. I fear I may stupefy it," Claude said, "I really have no intention of hurting you. I only want to learn more about you. I know you are just like me and don't want anyone finding out about our identities. But I'm a magus too, so that should be fine, right?"

Apparently, it wasn't fine as the girl charged at him with the spear, intent on putting a few holes through him.

"Ahem... This isn't how you should treat guests."

Claude dodged all her strikes one after another. While his combat skills didn't stand out among soldiers, he didn't need to break a sweat against the girl. He caught the spear and disarmed her before throwing it aside. He grabbed her shoulders and avoided her bite.

"Hey, hey! Don't bite! You're no dog!"

He spun the girl around. She stumbled on the ground before crawling towards her spear.

Just as he was about to speak, he saw the wolf charging at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Won't you learn... Bang!"

The wolf started chasing its tail.

The girl darted for her spear, though she didn't pick it up. She turned and stared at Claude. He thought it was finally time to talk, but then she drew in the air as her mouth moved.

Not good! He moved to dodge, but two vines shot out of the ground and wrapped around his legs. The girl finally picked up the spear.

It wasn't a bad spell. She was going to stab him like a scarecrow.

However, being bound didn't mean that he wasn't able to cast any spells. He secretly cast Magus' Hands, the perfect spell for his situation since it required him to be unmoving. He used it to first block the incoming stab, broke the spear and tossed it further away, before giving the back of the girl's neck a slight push to knock her out.

Then, he unravelled himself with his mana hands, which were much more powerful and snapped the vines he couldn't break through with his own strength. By the time he could move again, the black wolf snapped out of it. However, it was intelligent enough to know that charging in wouldn't do anything to Claude. Instead, its mind would just blank out like before. So, it only growled a few times before going to the girl and nudging her with its head, hoping that she would wake up.

Claude felt like an adult bullying a child. Even though he was tussling for quite a while with the wolf and girl, nobody that seemed like her family came out from the shack. Were they not home, or were they physically challenged somehow? Could they be waiting to ambush him when he entered?

Claude had only seen two spells since coming into the forest. The first was the smog trap spell, and the other was the vine binding spell the girl cast on him. Apart from the ability to control the wolf, there wasn't any other spell that surprised him. That seemed a little too few for a rogue magus. At the very least, there should be seven basic spells. Could she be the same as him and only had spells suited for alchemy rather than combat?

He headed towards the shack and saw the wolf leaping for him the moment he was at the entrance. Darn it. Aren't you a loyal one? But you're a wolf, not a house-sitting dog!

Claude didn't want to give that loyal black wolf another Mental Shock in fear of actually crippling its mind. He saw a pile of rope near the shack and used Magus' Hands, one to press the wolf down and the other to bind it. He wrapped it in a whole ball of rope, leaving it helpless and unable to do anything but whimper.

He focused his hearing and didn't detect any movement within the shack, not even the sound of breathing. It seemed like the family of the girl wasn't inside. He pushed the old door open and used Luminous Pearl and got a clear view of the seven square metres within.

There was a bed made from stacked up logs and piles of twigs beneath an animal patchwork quilt made mostly out of skin from rabbits, squirrels and other small critters. There was another pile of dried grass nearby which should be for the wolf to sleep on. There was another old three-legged, table which was supported with a wooden stick where its missing leg was.

On the discoloured wooden table was the basket the old woman left in the mountains the night before. Beside it was a wooden pestle and mortar for medicine-making and two basins. Nailed against the wall near the table was a shelf on which five to six bottles were placed. They looked like the one used to store the honey and medicinal paste.

There was a small metal brazier near the table with some half-burnt wood inside. That was probably what she used to stave off the cold of winter. He wondered how she wasn't smoked to death before he saw the porous straw roof.

There seemed to be some more room behind the bed. He approached for a closer look and saw only a small space with a wooden bucket inside. Based on the smell, it was probably the lavatory. he turned around and was shocked to see a human face hanging on the wall. But upon closer inspection, it only looked like a monstrous mask made of skin with some long, white hair hanging off it.

The girl magus didn't seem to have any family. He could tell that she lived with the wolf as her only companion based on the furnishing of her shack. Her life seemed rather difficult. It was no wonder she was willing to trade honey and medicinal paste with food with the villagers.

Claude exited the shack. The girl had regained consciousness and cautiously watched Claude approached as she backed down while sitting.

"Do you live here alone?" he asked, wearing the kindest smile he knew.

The girl glared at him silently while she inched away.

With no way to communicate, Claude stood up and went back to the shed to take out some food from his bag and lined them up on the ground. There was an oiled cloth inside too, which he used as a spread for the ground. He gave it some thought and took it out too.

"Feel free to have these. I'll come check on you when I'm free," he said, then left for the forest.

Chapter 239 - With in the Forest

Claude didn't know why the girl lived alone in the mountains. However, he could tell she had nothing but hostility for him. Even though he was able to subdue her without breaking a sweat, he didn't attempt to pry open her past to learn everything about her.

Despite transmigrating to this new world, he still held his core virtue of respecting others' privacy. Since the magus wasn't willing to interact with him, he didn't force the matter. He left his food behind to help her out and wasn't expecting anything else in return, because he understood how hard it must be to live alone in the wilderness, isolated from society. The state of the shack told him all he needed to know.

He looked back and saw that she had already untied her wolf. The two were staring back at him. Claude smiled and waved to her before turning to leave when the wolf howled.

Perhaps he could ask the village chief about the girl. The villagers, who were hiding the girl's presence, probably knew something about her. Since he had already seen the girl and the black wolf himself, the village chief might not see the need to hide it any longer.

He travelled through the route heading for Squirrel Village on his way back instead of doubling back. There were only two hills and one small ridge to cross for him to reach the forested slope near Squirrel Village. It saved him half the travel time.

It was already nine or so when he made it to the village. It was dark and nothing was lit, so he figured that the villagers had gone to sleep. Claude planned to talk to the village chief the next day, so he decided to go back to camp and have some food.

He ordered some food from the kitchen and went upstairs. The moment he turned the last corner, his face darkened. Everything had been tossed out of his room, furniture included, into the corridor.

"Where did he hide it?" he heard Mazik mumble to himself.

"What are you doing?" Claude asked frigidly.

The bastard was a little too daring. He had to be taught a lesson.

"Ugh--" Mazik froze for a moment, then jerked to attention. "--I wanted to dry your furniture while you were away since the rainy season is just around the corner! I also wanted to put some insect repellant in your room."

"So I should thank you for this?" Claude asked as he motioned to the mess in the corridor.

The bastard was actually trying to sell him a favour rather than admitting that he'd been searching for Claude's wine!

"You're welcome, Sir," Mazik smiled.

"Hehe... Mazik you bastard!"

Claude was so furious he laughed.

"We both know what you're really up to. You have ten minutes to put everything back where they belong and get out of my sight! I've sent Myjack and Gum out to get alcohol for the rainy season. If a certain someone pisses me off again, he won't be getting any."

"Understood, Sir."

Mazik darted downstairs and ordered the two signallers to help him move the furniture.

Claude wondered whether he was too lenient on the bastard. Bastard or not, however, he was a reliable subordinate otherwise. On top of that, Claude couldn't just send him packing; he didn't have anyone with which to replace him. He could punish him for breaking into his quarters, but that would be a slap on the wrist at best.

"Whatever. I'll deal with him some other time."

Claude went straight to the village chief's house the next morning. It was the only building that didn't look like a shack, but it was still old and worn. The chief and his wife were both at home collecting firewood in the yard. The rainy season would last some twenty days and was just around the corner. They wouldn't be able to collect usable firewood during that time, so they had to stock up beforehand.

Claude found an old log and sat down.

"I went to the mountains yesterday. I saw the wolf and that--"

Clatter!

The two dropped their wood, and their jaws, and stared at him.

"Wait, why are you two looking at me like that?"

The chief glanced at his wife. She ran to the yard's entrance and checked the street, then slammed the gate shut and locked it.

"Sir, did you see the witch?" the chief asked in barely more than a whisper.

"You're brave. She's terrifying. Aren't you afraid?" the old woman asked, returning to her husband's side.

Claude recalled the terrifying mask on the girl's wall.

"She's a witch? I didn't think much about it. I just thought she was crazy. The wolf is real, however. I even talked to her. I asked her the way back but she didn't say anything. She just pointed into the woods."

"Your luck really excellent. You should be glad you saw her while she was sober. If she hadn't been..." the chief's wife's voice trailed off without completing the sentence.

"Sober? What do you mean? Is the witch really crazy?"

"No. She usually turns into a black bear. She becomes very aggressive when she does. Who knows what would've happened if you ran into her while she was like that..." the chief answered confidently.

Turn into a bear Claude's arse! It was just a costume... He didn't know if he should be impressed by the girl's acting skills, or dismayed at the villagers' gullibility.

"I'm serious," the chief continued earnestly, "I once went out hunting with the lord. The witch attacked some of his servants. Three died and the fourth was crippled for life. The lord was so terrified he left that very day. He's not visited the village since, never mind go into the forest. I saw the corpses with my own eyes too. You could barely recognise them as human."

Something didn't make sense. The girl should've been a child at the time. She could not have fought four adults, killed three, and wounded the fourth.

"How long have you known about her?" Claude asked.

"... About twenty years. I remember being saved by her once. I was thirty at the time. The lord came to the village and demanded we get him hydrangeas. We didn't have any, so we had to head up the mountain to find some. It took five days, but we got one near a cliff. I slipped and fell down it when I tried to pick it, thought. But then, a large black bear leapt in and saved me.

"I thought I was gone for good and passed out from the pain, but I woke up several hours later -- under a tree and wounds treated and bandaged. Even the hydrangea was fine. I saw some scribbles on the ground near me. It said we could exchange salt and food for medicine and told us where to leave the stuff.

"We've been trading with her ever since. So it's not that we don't want to sell you the recipe for that medicine, it's that we don't know it in the first place. The paste isn't for treating external injuries. In the past, the witch used to make a kind of black paste that was magical for treating external wounds, but two years ago, she said that she ran out of ingredients and couldn't make more. The only thing we can still buy it the green one that treats fevers and colds."

The chief's account provided many clues. The witch in the chief's story was not the same one he'd met. She might have been the girl's teacher or guardian though. She clearly wasn't around anymore, however.

"She hasn't hurt anyone?" Claude asked.

"No, Sir. Everyone knows the wilderness behind the ridge is her territory. We keep away. It's too far anyway. We only go up the mountains for foraging and firewood. The witch's medicine has also become our specialty."

Claude nodded.

"No wonder you told me not to go there. You were afraid I would discover this."

"Please forgive us, Sir," the chief apologised sincerely, "We wouldn't worry about the witch ourselves. I doubt anything will happen if we run into her. But you're an outsider, so we don't know whether the witch will hurt you..."

"Don't worry. I won't disturb her peace nor will I blame you for wanting to keep it secret. I won't tell anyone else about it. Instead, I should thank her for pointing me the right way in the mountains. Who knows if I would've been able to make it back without her help. Since she wants salt and food, I'll go trade them with her two days later. You're won't fault me for that, right?"

"Ah, we won't. We are actually rather thankful for her. The paste she makes allows us to trade other daily necessities that we need. However, our poor village isn't able to provide her with any good food. How could we blame you for wanting to help her? Instead, we should thank you."

"Alright, then it's decided. Get back to your work then. I'll be taking my leave now. By the way, Myjack and Gum will come back from town with some supplies and blackwheat ale. If your village needs anything else, feel free to trade them with some goods from the mountain," Claude said as he left.

"Ah, thank you for your care, Sir," the two thanked in unison. As there was no longer a lord in the area, the things they foraged from the mountain belonged to them. Trading them with Claude was a rather good idea as it saved them the trouble of going to town.

Chapter 240 - Finally Speaking

Myjack and Gum returned with many workhorses two days later, each burdened with supplies. There were twenty barrels of blackwheat ale alone. Mazik was the most pleased by the shipment and opened a barrel of ale immediately. By the time Claude made his way downstairs, the bastard had downed three cups and couldn't even speak properly.

"You only got twenty barrels?"

That would never be enough. The rainy season lasted more than twenty days and one barrel a day only allowed each person half a cup. It wasn't enough to last the season. Letting the troops drink some alcohol to stave off the cold during the wet weather was common knowledge. That was the reason behind Claude offering to buy the ale with money out of his own pocket.

"Sir, we bought 24 barrels, but Moriad confiscated four when we reached Blackstone Village," Myjack replied.

Ah, he'd forgotten the bastard. How annoying. But there was nothing he could do. Moriad was his minion, in a sense, and what boss doesn't give his minion some benefits? He was already used to being taken advantage of by them. It was his fault for being so free with his spending.

"Lock the bastard up. Don't let him out without my express permission. He's not to be given a single drop of alcohol until I say so either. You'll lose yours if you dare," Claude said as he gave the drunk Mazik a kick.

He called himself an alcoholic with such a poor capacity?

The two hauled Mazik into his room and locked the door.

"Gum, get wooden boards and nail them over the windows.

"Yes, Sir!"

Gum left immediately.

"And put the rest of the barrels away! Myjack, keep an inventory of who drinks what and how many. You're in charge of the ale."

"Yes, Sir. We also bought fifteen cartons of gran wine. Each has a dozen bottles."

Strong alcohol like gran wine was perfect for staving off the cold. Each person only needed a single modest cup. Additionally, even though the quality of gran wine was bad, the soldiers loved them mainly because they didn't cost much. Each carton was only approximately double the price of a barrel of ale.

"Good. Keep the gran wine in your and Gum's rooms. We'll distribute them when the rainy season is near its end. What else did you buy?"

"Lots. We had to hire three workhorse convoys to move it all. There are some rumours in town that when the Rimodran troops return, they will appropriate all the supplies of the stores. So, most of the merchants were desperately selling their goods off for a low price. I bought anything I thought would be useful and spent all seven-plus crowns you gave me. We still haven't paid for the shipping..."

"Got it. I have a money pouch in the drawer of my desk in the office. Here's the key and go get the money to pay for the workhorse convoys." Claude gave Myjack a key and instructed the other men to unload the goods. He separated the goods he bought with his own money and stored them in the warehouse.

Morning the next day, Claude was awakened by the havoc Mazik was causing. He was loudly threatening the two signallers living in the ground floor's storeroom.

"Mazik you bastard, I'll have you locked up another day if you cause any more ruckus." Claude went downstairs in a fit of anger. "How can you be an alcoholic with your shite capacity? You dropped cold after only three cups! Don't just ignore your duty to steal a sip of booze! Are you even a sergeant-major? How could you get drunk in front of the other soldiers? You're unhappy with being locked up for three days? It's my order! Why are you shouting at those two?"

Mazik instantly behaved. Claude was the one who paid for the ale out of his own pocket. Without a single coin, he knew he could only get some to drink if he got on Claude's good side.

"It's my fault, sir. I'll respect your order, Sir. I won't go out for three days."

Just as Claude was about to head to the kitchen to get something to eat, a soldier came in.

"Sir, the village chief is here. He says you've sent him!"

The old man must've seen the horses and goods and wanted to exchange.

"Let him in," Claude said before he called Myjack downstairs.

He left the matter of trade in Myjack's hands since he had just returned from town and knew the prices of the goods well. He would be able to get them a good deal.

Using the flour they bought last night, he cooked a large pot of flour gruel and cracked a few eggs in it. He scooped two bowls, one for himself and the other for Mazik, and left the rest to Myjack and Gum. With Gum there, he didn't need to worry about there being any leftovers.

"Sir, your food always tastes great. I didn't know flour could be made into a delicacy like this," Mazik flattered after he consumed a large mouthful. "I still don't understand why you used your own money to buy goods to trade with the villagers though. They only have dried mushrooms and herbs. What good is there to trade for those?"

Claude rolled his eyes.

"Do you think my money falls from the sky? I don't take your pay or embezzle goods. I'm only using this chance to make a quick buck. While you might think the mountain goods worthless, they can be sold for at least thrice the price in the city. I can send those to town after the rainy season to sell them for at least double the price. That would cover our supply costs! We'll practically get them for free, understand? It's business."

"Business? You're saying the mountain goods are worth money? Then why don't the villagers go to town and sell it themselves?"

"You won't get it even if I explain. The villagers don't have that much. Travelling to town every two or three days to sell them isn't worth it for them. If they don't have enough, they won't be able to sell them for a good price and can only head to the smaller shops which will haggle the price down. The shops will collect enough themselves and sell them to the larger stores and make a good profit.

"I'm basically taking the place of those small stores by trading them my goods. The villagers will benefit from trading with me regularly and saving the transportation cost. The price I give the smaller stores is also fair. I can trade my stockpile with goods directly, so their profit margin won't be that high either.

"I'm not making any losses personally. While each villager might not forage as many things, the whole village is a different story. Now that word of this has spread, do you believe if I tell you the villagers from Blackstone Village are going to come trade with us as well? After the rainy season, we'll have amassed quite a lot of mountain goods and we can cover the cost of the supplies we use. We'll even make some profit too." Claude wasn't planning on hiding his intentions. It wasn't that the others would have the capital necessary for such a venture anyway, not to mention the fact that Claude already had more than enough supplies for the villagers to trade with that there was no more space in the market for another.

After finishing the gruel, Claude locked Mazik in while he was still busy understanding the business model. He decided to go to the mountains again to see that magus girl with some of the supplies that just came as gifts.

But when he arrived at the warehouse, he realised that there were too many things he could bring with him. The thought of the nearly empty shack made Claude see everything as something the girl could need. After much deliberation and considering that the rainy season was coming, he decided to bring things that could help with living through the season. He would think about other things after the season passed.

With a large sack of goods, he left the camp and headed for the mountains. Most of the villagers were gathered at the warehouse of the camp and haggling over the trades with Myjack, trading in what they had for what they needed.

The path from the village up the mountains was far easier to traverse. He spent only two hours to reach the place where the girl stayed. After using Eye of Appraisal to avoid the ripples that denoted the traps, Claude easily entered the deep part of the forest and reached the empty plot of land.

A familiar growl could be heard, but by now, the wolf had learned its lesson and understood that it wasn't Claude's match. Even though it growled, it was hiding behind the girl magus and didn't charge at him.

The girl was wearing the linen-sack-like patchwork clothes she made. Seeing Claude approach, she didn't run nor speak and only shot him a guarded and hostile gaze.

Claude noticed that she wasn't holding the spear. Instead, she held a chipped spearhead in hand. There was a dissected squirrel on the ground which she probably hunted in the morning. She was probably making lunch.

"Hey, I'm back," he greeted. She ignored him.

"Are you having only that for lunch?" He furrowed his brow. "Didn't I give you food a few days ago? Did you throw it away?"

The magus didn't say anything and pointed at her old shack.

He put down his sack and pushed it open, only to see his food laid out on the table.

Claude wanted to ask her why she didn't eat it, but he recalled that the coming of the rainy season probably meant she was stockpiling something for later consumption. She might have a much harder time searching for food when the rain fell nonstop.

Returning to his sack, he opened it. "Thankfully, I came in time. I'll make you something good for lunch.

"This is a sack of flour. It should be enough to last you through the rainfall. You just have to mix it with water to make dough. If you have yeast, you can make it into bread. You can also make it into wheat biscuit.

"This is enough salt to last you half a year. Here are some spices, which will make the meat taste wonderful if you rub it on them. Here's some butter you can use to make bacon with. Also, I brought you a pan and a pot. You can make food and cook soup with them. Here are some utensils. I brought them cause I saw that you didn't have any. This is a cup and a scoop. It's best for you to drink boiled water to prevent any stomach worms.

"Also, here are some clothes. These undergarments are made from linen and are much more comfortable to wear. Sorry that they're for men, though. This is the smallest size they've got. You can alter them to your liking. Here's a comb for you to groom your hair with, some soap you can use to bathe with, and some detergent for washing your clothes. You can use this to bathe too, but it's rough and will irritate your skin. There's also a toothbrush and some toothpaste you can brush your teeth with."

Claude mimed the teeth-brushing motion, but the girl merely glared at him without making a sound.

Seeing that he wasn't able to spark her interest, he had no choice but to take the last item out of his sack. "This is honeyed bread. My subordinate bought it from town yesterday. There're also raisins inside. It's great. Try some. You better finish this fast, since it can last five days at most. It'll spoil and mould after that. Also, I brought this for you, buddy. Goat's hoof. Feel free to bite into it."

Claude tossed the hoof to the black wolf, but it merely gave it a sniff and left it alone.

The girl picked the hoof up and toasted it on the brazier.

"Hey, that's for the black wolf to eat," Claude said.

The girl glared at Claude angrily and finally spoke. Her voice was clear and moving. "Blackwind doesn't eat it raw!"

"Y-you're... you're not mute after all..." Claude said with a stunned look.

"You're the mute!" The girl turned around and continued to ignore him.

"Oh... I see... so this wolf is called Blackwind. A... a fine name indeed." Claude was still reeling from the shock of hearing her speak. That was good. He only had to keep the conversation going to communicate with her properly.

What were the odds of finding a rogue magus younger than him during his military career? He was quite curious why she lived in the mountains alone.

Chapter 241 - Howling Wolf

"Hey, I'm Claude Ferd, an Aueran from Whitestag. I'm currently posted in Squirrel Village. It's a pleasure to meet you. What's your name?"

The girl merely hit the back of his head.

"I really don't mean you ill. You know I'm a magus, too. Even my mother doesn't know it. I was so worried people would hunt me down if the found out I'd always planned to live like a nomad or a hermit. I'm not asking anything from you in exchange for food. I'm just helping you as a fellow magus."

The girl's ears twitched, but she kept her tongue.

Claude shared his story from the cookbook he'd found, how it was a diary of a normal rune magus which contained the meditation technique he now knew, and how it'd been his first step on the path of magecraft.

He told the girl much, including everything he knew about magic on the continent from his mistress, even the bearded magus' ambush and how he'd escaped. He didn't, however, reveal his spells. He had to keep something secret -- just in case.

He told her less about his life as a magus than about his life as a transmigrator; without saying it in as many words, of course. In just two short years, he had grown from sixteen to eighteen. Many changes occurred and forced him on a military path. Now, he was almost twenty-one. Three years had passed since his enlistment.

After finishing his story, he lay down on the grass and relaxed. He had finally rid himself of an immense burden. Unloading one's worries to a stranger brought much relief, far more than he'd imagined it would. He didn't know the girl, not even her name, but she didn't feel like a threat.

She broke the silence only after he finished.

"Are you still training in your meditation technique?"

"I am now," Claude nodded, but he wasn't sure whether the girl saw it, "I stopped training when I first enlisted because I lived in a tent with eleven other people. I couldn't concentrate with all the snoring, and I was generally too tired to stay awake long enough to get into the proper mental state.

"I only finally got to train regularly again after I was promoted to second lieutenant last year and was given my own room. I would have been a two-ring rune magus by now if I could have kept up my normal training. Instead, I'm still at least two-and-a-half years away."

"I don't understand... You... magus... Why join the army? You can live free... or... live like us in the forest... Nobody would find you..."

She finally spared him a glance. Her eyes made him nervous.

He met her gaze with a bitter smile.

"You don't understand. You live in the Duchy of Askilin where nobility still reigns supreme. You live in the baron's fief, so without his permission, nobody can come here to capture a rogue magus like you. You're generally left alone as long as you don't make trouble for the local noble. If you're lucky they might decide to purchase a couple trinkets from you.

"Aueras is different. We've done away with the feudal system as you have it. The king has direct rule over all of the kingdom. You can still find places to hide and live in the middle of mountain ranges or other impassable terrains, but if anyone finds out about you, you will be hunted down.

"On top of that, unless you have a high social standing, which you can't get without exposing yourself excessively to others, you can't travel around to keep people from finding out about you. Peasants, which most people start out as, can't travel in the kingdom. They are bound to their birth town unless they have very good reasons, and permission from the king's government. If you're discovered to be travelling illegally, you'll spend the rest of your days in a penal work-camp, often on the front lines, especially during war time. My best choice was to join the army and work my way up the ladder until I'm in a position to live a free life. I'd say I've been doing pretty well on that front.

"As for deserting now that I'm here... If I do that, my family would suffer in my stead."

"I see--" The girl nodded slightly. "--Your kingdom sounds horrible. You don't have any freedom. No wonder you carry a musket even though you're a magus."

Claude didn't know how to respond.

"It's not horrible, the kingdom's just a little stricter than most others. It's a trade, really. We've given up some freedom in exchange for stability and relative wealth. Peasant's aren't rich by any stretch of the imagination, but they do live in much better conditions on average than in any kingdom.

"In some ways, the strict regulations help to protect them. They don't have to worry about being attacked by magi or being hurt by spells. Even though now we have weapons like the musket that can be used against magi, magic is still a godly existence in the eye of the mundane folk. Magi are still people who regard most people as ants. If they are crossed, who knew what consequences there would be?"

The girl found it rather hard to understand his sentiments, perhaps because of her naivete from living a secluded life for so long. Or maybe she didn't know how much power the magi wielded over the mundane folk because of her lack of exposure to them since young. The two of them fell into another bout of silence. By then, the hoof on the metal stake had more or less cooked. The girl sprinkled some salt on it and put it on the ground for Blackwind to feast on.

"Aren't you going to have this honeyed bread? I'll bring some more fresh meat for you the next time, but it'll probably have to wait until after the rainy season. It's too difficult to travel here in between. By the way, you haven't told me your name yet."

The girl merely humphed and took the sack of honeyed bread into her shack. Either she felt shy about eating the bread in front of him or she just didn't want to tell him her name.

Claude smiled and patted down the dust on him. He had no intention of entering the shack. Looking to the wolf that was ravaging the hoof, he said, "Blackwind, I'm taking my leave now. Tell your master for me, will you?"

The wolf sniffed Claude before biting the hoof and putting it aside, wagging its tail, its rear facing Claude as if it was afraid he would fight it for the hoof.

Claude chuckled and shouted at the shack.

"I'm leaving! Take care! You can look for me at the campsite outside Squirrel Village if anything comes up. Just use my name."

Right before he stepped out of the forest, he turned back and saw the girl standing by the shack's entrance, watching him leave. He smiled and waved at her before going his way.

After returning to camp, Myjack reported what the villagers had traded. When he heard the chief had traded two wild wood essence roots preserved three to four decades ago, in other words, ginseng, for a carton of gran wine and some other supplies, he knew that the old man had quite a bit of treasure stashed in his home and only appeared poor on the outside.

He had Myjack pass him the wood essence roots. He would give one to Perunt since he used two grandwood potions from his personal collection on him to treat him back then. He would be happy to finally get some wood essence. Claude kept the other for his own use, since it was hard to find one on the market even if one had the money for it. Maybe he ought to have Perunt make it into a grandwood potion for him. A wild wood essence root of three to four decades old could probably be used to make four to five average-quality grandwood potions.

He was quite busy for the next two days. Mazik had been detained by him, so it meant he would have to take over his duties. He checked whether the irrigation system of the campsite was working well and had the soldiers scatter insect repellent powders at various corners. When the rainy season arrived,. the poisonous snakes, scorpions and centipedes would wake from their long, winter slumber and crawl to dry spots. There was no lack of poisonous critters in the mountains and it was crucial to undertake preventive measures lest soldiers get hurt in vain.

Myjack wasn't able to catch any breather either. As Claude told Mazik that day, the villagers of Blackstone also came to the campsite after word of their supplies spread. Some people from the further Carmen Village also came with sacks of supplies to trade. The two villages had close ties with Squirrel Village and they didn't mind going there to trade for the convenience.

On the 7th of the 3rd month, the first heavy rainfall finally came. The rain on Freia during the season wasn't like the light drizzles. Instead, they were full-blown rainstorms accompanied by thunder and lightning. The roads turned to mud and the rivers overflowed. Flash floods were common. People could only stay home in such weather. They could only visit their neighbours in the moments between storms, provided the roads weren't completely untraversable.

Fortunately, they prepared enough dried wood and charcoal in the base. The cinders burning in the fireplace warmed the room well. Mazik lucked out and won a bottle of gran wine from a card game with Claude. It didn't take more than half a bottle before he was knocked out, though. Claude didn't bother to chastise him for getting drunk, since it was hardly possible for their enemy to march troops to them in that weather, let alone attack them.

A brawl did occur between the soldiers staying in the stone warehouses. He had no choice but to settle the matter himself, even if he had to go out in the rain. He punished the soldiers that provoked the fight and had the tentsmen of those soldiers punish them with squats, sit-ups and many other workout activities so that the soldiers wouldn't have any extra energy to fight.

A week passed and everything seemed in order, much to Claude's relief. The rainy season would pass in another ten or so days, after which he'd have to arrange for the men to begin digging trenches and fortifying their defences to expand the camp. It would be ideal if he could remain posted there until the war ended. At the very least, he would be safe there and wouldn't have to go on the battlefield to risk his life.

Deep in the night, Myjack and Gum in the next room had fallen asleep. Claude could hear their familiar snores. He had just completed a meditation session, so he didn't really feel sleepy. So, he walked to his window and opened it to look at the rain falling from the dark skies.

"Awoooooooooo!"

All of a sudden, a familiar howl sounded from behind Squirrel Village. It sounded harsh and pained. Claude shuddered and began to have a bad premonition. Did something happen to the girl? Was the wolf calling for help?

"Awoooooooooo!" He heard the howl again. It was as if it was urging him on.

Claude darted downstairs in a hurry and put on a beastskin raincoat. He informed the soldiers on guard duty of his excursion and ran for the mountains behind the village. The ground was muddy and the flowing water was so deep that it almost seemed like a river had formed. He stumbled up the mountain and saw Blackwind standing on the green stone beneath the cherry blossom tree, howling towards the village.

Chapter 242 - Rainy Night

"Blackwind, is it you?"

Claude rushed to the black wolf.

The howling turned into a low growl. The wolf lowered its body, ready to pounce, but relaxed when Claude removed his raincoat's hood.

Looking at Claude, the wolf jumped backwards and ran to the shack. After taking a few strides, it turned back and stared at him. It whimpered and stamped its paws anxiously.

"Want me to follow you?"

Claude's heart sank. It seemed something had befallen the girl. Otherwise, the wolf wouldn't be in such a rush to look for him.

"Lead the way."

The wolf darted off again, though it paused every now and again to check that Claude was still following.

The rain was slightly lighter under the forest canopy. But the rain was so heavy when they left cover he couldn't open his eyes. Even with the beastskin raincoat on, he was completely drenched. The coat was only good for blocking the cold wind.

The trail was hard to traverse, especially during such weather. He couldn't see beyond ten steps. He held a Luminous Pearl in hand to help illuminate his path. As expected, the wolf was leading him towards the witch's part of the forest where the girl lived.

The pearl that could light a room for about two hours in normal conditions dissipated in less than half an hour in Claude's hands. Its mana had run out completely. It wasn't that Claude himself didn't have the mana. Instead, the spell formation he traced out in the rain caused the mana to disperse quickly. It worked the same way how magic essence in ripples dissipated quicker in the rain.

Had the wolf not been leading his way ahead and called out to him periodically to guide him, he was certain that he would never be able to find the witch's forest himself. He would most likely go lost in the mountains.

He had fallen for the nth time after slipping. Rolling on the ground so often had covered him completely in mud, but they washed off after a while in the rain. He only relaxed when he finished a difficult climb up the ridge. The forest was finally in sight.

He practically rolled down the ridge in a haggard fashion, drinking quite a bit of rainwater in the process. When he was near the wood, he used Eye of Appraisal. He noticed the forest was no different from others. It was a black blur.

He slapped his forehead. There was no way the girl would set any magic traps in the forest in this weather. Given that even ripples would dissipate in rain, the traps wouldn't hold for long either. Just like his Luminous Pearl, it would disappear after a while. There wasn't a point in setting them.

The wolf's impatient whimper echoed back through the downpour. It had advanced even further in the moment he'd had hesitated. He cast another Luminous Pearl and walked towards the deep part of the forest. Soon, he reached the muddy, empty plot. As he expected, the shack was deathly quiet and not a single trace of light could be seen inside. The closer he approached, the stronger the smell of blood he picked up.

He kicked the shack door open and tossed the ball of light. The sight completely shocked him.

In front of the broken table by the left corner of the roof was the wall; flat on the ground. No wonder the wolf gotten in despite the door still being closed. A large, black bear also lay bound by a jumble of green vines. The bear's blood mixed with the rainwater and made the whole shack smell of rust.

The girl lay, unmoving, on the wooden log bed -- drenched as much in blood as rain. Blackwind sat beside her, nudging her with its head incessantly. She did not react. The wolf glanced at Claude pleadingly.

He kicked the black bear. It was dead. Rigour mortis had even started setting in. He breathed a sigh of relief and made it to the side of the bed. He first touched her forehead and found it slightly warm. Then, he bent down and put his ear against his chest. Fortunately, he could still hear her heartbeat. Relieved, he continued his inspection only to find that her chest was still bleeding.

Casting away all modesty, he undid the patchwork fur she wore. She wore the male linen undergarments he'd given her underneath. The shirt was crimson. He could see three gouges claws had made on her torso even through the linen. Blood bubbled out of them even as the rain washed the blood away.

Why had a girl like her tried wrestling a bear? Claude could only shake his head. He tore the undergarment and exposed her upper body. There was a gash half an inch wide on her left breast.

He subconsciously reached out for his back, only to remember that he hadn't brought his backpack. He only had a bayonet. The girl was severely injured and needed immediate treatment, however, but he didn't know if she had medicine, and he couldn't wake her up.

He stood up and searched the broken table. Only food. He recalled the shelf on the wall where the bottles sat. Just as he reached out for it, he found that the shelf was gone. The bear had probably knocked it away along with the wall, but it had paid the price with its life.

The wolf growled and whimpered. Claude turned around and saw it covered in blood beside the girl. He had not noticed the blood before and thought it was just wet. It was in no better condition than its master.

"Know where the medicine is kept?" Claude asked.

The wolf laboured to its feet and stared at the table, before slumping down again. Having no choice, Claude took a clean undergarment from the bed and tore it into pieces and wrapped her up with the mat on the bed before removing his coat and putting it over her. Then, he found a rope and tied her on his back.

"I have to take your master to the camp. Can you hold on a little longer? If you can make it back as well, I can treat you, too." Claude said as he cast another Luminous Pearl and prepared to leave.

The wolf stood up and barked lowly, before stepping out of the shack -- back into the rain. Claude grit his teeth and followed on.

This journey was far harder than the previous one. Thankfully, the rain was lighter than before and he could see slightly farther. He deftly avoided the potholes and tried his best to keep his balance. He was carrying the unconscious on his back, after all, and wasn't travelling alone like before. He had only crudely wrapped her injury. He was concerned the journey would worsen her condition.

But no matter how careful he was, he would still slip and fall. He tried his best to prevent the girl from getting hurt even further. The front part of his clothes was completely covered in mud as it would be if he rolled in a puddle.

After much difficulty, he finally made it back to the camp. The guards on duty had switched shifts. The guard only recognised Claude after some wide-eyed scrutinising. "S-sir... Why are you out in such heavy rain... and there's a... a wolf behind you..."

The soldier panicked and reached out for his gun, but the tight space of the outpost and his shivering prevented him from aiming it. By then, the black wolf was already beside Claude.

"Don't panic. This is a wolfdog my friend owns. It helps with hunting. My friend on my back here got attacked by a black bear and I'm going to help with treatment. Open the gate and go to Mazik for punishment tomorrow morning. You left your gun where you know it shouldn't have been, and, on top of that, you didn't light your slowmatch... It's fine if you want to play fast and loose with your life, but you're risking the others' lives as well. That's unacceptable!"

The guard shot him a regretful look. "Yes, Sir, it's my bad. I will see Sergeant-Major Mazik tomorrow for my punishment."

The guard opened the gate. "Blackwind, come with."

Since he couldn't leave the wolf outside, it'd be best to bring it into his room. Otherwise, the soldiers would wake up with a fright and might shoot at it in a panic. He had to treat its wounds anyway, so he'd let it sleep with the girl in the same room.

Claude's rushed footsteps woke the sleeping Myjack. When he opened the door, he stuttered, "Wolf... wolf..."

Only after that did he see Claude. Claude didn't waste any time. "Myjack, get me two bottles of healing concoction for external injuries and one for internal ones. Don't get me the military supplied ones. I want the better quality ones you bought from town. Oh, and bring some bandages and blood-clotting paste as well."

Myjack stared at him blankly before looking at the figure wrapped up on his back. Claude kicked open the door himself and entered with the wolf the size of a calf following him in.

Myjack finally snapped out of his stupor and said, "Yes, Sir. I'll get you the things immediately."

Claude untied the girl and removed the soaked coat before stuffing her into the sheets of the bed. He touched her head and found it still hot. But it was good enough for him that she was still breathing at all. The wolf crouched down beside the fireplace.

Myjack soon came to the door and knocked. "Sir, may I enter?"

"Come in."

Myjack came in with a first aid kit and looked at the wolf before turning to the young girl in bed.

"She's the daughter of a hunter and lives up in the mountains. This black wolf is her pet, Blackwind. I got to know her back when I travelled to the mountains. This time around, she got attacked by a black bear and was injured. Blackwind ran here and howled, and when I went to check, it led me to her home. I found her unconscious there and brought her back for treatment. Any other questions?"

Claude made his excuse heard first before he was even asked anything. He had thought it up on the way back.

"B-but Sir... I heard the villagers say the one who lives in the mountains is a witch..." Myjack said gingerly.

So he'd heard something from the villagers after all.

"Does she look like a witch to you? It's just what the villagers think. She fled into the mountains with her family to avoid the baron. The villagers think she's a witch because of their ignorance. She merely picks herbs and makes them into medicinal paste to trade for food. Blackwind helps her with the trades, that's why they think she's a witch! It's a baseless rumour, you understand?"

"Y-yes, Sir," Myjack stuttered as he handed over the first-aid kit.

"Alright, you may leave. Prepare a tub in the guest room and fill it with hot water. I will take a bath after treating her and Blackwind. After you're done, get a few meaty bones from the kitchen for Blackwind. He eats them cooked, not raw," Claude instructed.

"Yes, Sir."

Chapter 243 - Skinning

Claude sighed at the sight of the old, broken hut.

"All I did was find trouble for myself... I didn't think I'd have to help her skin the bear after saving her..."

After making the trip back and tending to the pair's wounds, he worked through the night and the next morning. He cooked some beef oat gruel with some herbs that aided in blood production to nourish the magus girl.

The girl only awoke late the next morning. Claude thought she would ask him where she was and whether he had saved her, but the first thing she said while her head was still burning was, "Bear... bear skin..."

"You killed it. It's still in your hut. I saved you thanks to Blackwind. You're in my campsite now. Rest. You need it to recover. You would've died from blood loss last night if I didn't bring you back."

The girl finally noticed this wasn't her hut. She looked at the bandages all over her body and glared at Claude.

"Were you the one who took my clothes off?"

Claude shrugged.

"I didn't have much of a choice. We've no women in the unit and you were in too critical a condition to wait for the healers. It's not like I had much time to get a look at you even if I wanted, anyway."

The girl immediately yanked off her blanket and said she was going back home for clothes. Claude was completely flabbergasted.

"You can't even stand properly! Going back is suicidal! Wait until your wounds recover. I really didn't have a choice but to undress you. I absolutely wasn't trying to take a peek."

"I'm not going back because of that. I'm going to harvest the black bear's carcass before it rots.".

Claude pressed the girl back into bed.

"Are you daft? Look at this rain! It's a fool's errand!. It's only a black bear anyway. I'll hunt you two more when you're recovered. The village chief said there are quite a lot of bears beyond the forest."

The girl just kept insisting she return. She said the carcass would be of great use. The skin, gall bladder, and bones were nothing short of treasures. Having no other choice, Claude said he would make another trip and get her the parts.

The girl swirled and collapsed back onto the bed. She sighed in a daze, and gave in.

She shouted a couple words as he was leaving.

"You must skin it the exact way I did my old bearskin. It'll only be useful if it's done that way."

Fortunately, the rain was much lighter now. Claude prepared to leave after he finished preparing the gruel and feeding it to the girl. Gum wanted to tag along, but Claude had him and Myjack stay behind to take care of the girl. Myjack didn't dare to enter the room with such a large black wolf so it was fine. Claude was also concerned that having Gum around would make it inconvenient to do certain things, such as casting spells.

Claude took two workhorses with him. The short and stout creatures scaled the mountain paths stably and could bear a lot of weight. The mountain folk mainly used them as beasts of burden and mounts. There were six mountain workhorses in Claude's camp which Myjack got from base to help with moving supplies. Claude was going to skin the bear and bring some meat back to base to freshen up their menu. The cold rainy season would also slow the spoiling of the meat.

He could see rather clearly in the day. Even so, it took him three hours to make it to the forest. He tied the horses to a nearby tree, then entered the half-collapsed hut.

The inside was still somewhat dry. Thanks to the bit of a raise on which it had been built, no water had accumulated into puddles inside. The inside of the shack was left untouched and the things were laid out the same as yesterday. The only difference was the disappearance of the vines binding the bear on the ground. It seemed that the vine spell the girl cast had a time limit. He wondered how long it could last.

The smell of blood was thick inside. The bear was large and weighed around seven hundred catties, so it probably wasn't lacking in blood. The girl was truly impressive for having slain a bear of that size despite being ambushed.

The reason he insisted on not bringing Gum along as his guard was so that he could use Magus' Hands and Fine Control to strip the skin off the bear. He did so the way Maria guided him when they were removing the skin of the niros crocodile to make tomes and scrolls. If he didn't use the spells, flipping the carcass around alone would be hellishly difficult.

He cast Luminous Pearl and had it float near the roof of the shack for some lighting. Then, he unrolled the old bearskin beneath the table. It was the one the girl wore before. Based on the size of the skin, it was almost as large as the bear in the shack now. Claude did notice that it was rather worn. Much of the fur on the back had fallen off, and there were many spots that seemed to be sewn and mended. While it looked rather complete at first glance, it was actually quite torn up and beaten upon closer inspection.

Claude found it weird why the girl insisted that he skin the bear to match with her old bearskin. Was there some secret to the skin? Claude scrutinised it and noticed that the skull and the paws inside the skin were still intact. There was only an incision about two feet long at the centre of the chest. It looked like the bones and meat were hollowed out after that incision was made.

It seemed he wouldn't be getting a taste of the bear paws, then. Still, wasn't it a little too troublesome to go about the skinning that way? What significance would it make for the girl? Claude looked closer at the old skin and found that the sharp claws on the paws could freely extend and retract. They looked shiny and sharp as if they were still attached to a live bear.

Whatever. He was there now, so he might as well finish it. Fortunately, knowing those two spells would save him lots of time. If he had to skin it with his own hands and tools, it would take at least a day or two. He cast Magus' Hands and easily flipped the carcass over.

The black bear had died from a black, iron spearhead that pierced through the crescent moon pattern on its chest. Apparently, the girl had pierced the spearhead into its chest after she bound it with her vines and the bear managed to break one claw free during her death struggle and gave her a huge maul. Thankfully, she managed to back off right before it hit and avoided the fate of having her chest cavity completely torn open and managing to survive with only the three scratch wounds on her chest, albeit passing out from blood loss.

Claude recalled the second time he went to the forest. He remembered seeing the girl skinning a squirrel with her black spearhead. He slapped his forehead when he thought if he hadn't snapped her spear, she wouldn't have had to engage the bear in such close proximity in the first place.

Though he brought her food, clothing and utensils, he failed to bring her a new weapon with which to defend herself. Maybe the savage impression she gave him caused him to neglect considering her need for such a weapon in the first place. A look at the shack should've made him understand that the only metal object she had to defend herself with was that black spearhead. The spearhead wasn't sharp enough to kill the bear in one strike and caused it to lash out instead to injure the girl.

Thank goodness for Blackwind for calling him to her rescue. Claude calmed down and focused. He cast Magus' Hand and Fine Control, changing one of the hands into a slaughtering blade and replicating the incision on the old bearskin with great precision.

An hour later, the new bearskin with the four paws and skull intact was ready. Claude laid it on the ground and let the rainwater wash it clean of blood before casting Magus' Hands again to shave the meat off the large bones he removed and packed them in his linen sack. As for the gallbladder, it had already been stored within a bamboo container he brought.

Claude brought a number of linen sacks with him. He had four workhorses anyway and could bring anything he deemed useful from the bear back with him. He had three full sacks of bear meat chops weighing around three hundred catties in total. The larger bones also weighed around a hundred catties. Coupled with the bearskin drained of blood, Claude estimated that it would weigh some six hundred catties in total.

When he finished dealing with the bear, he looked at the ruined old shack and thought that it was no longer habitable. Putting aside the torn wooden walls, the smell of blood and meat chunks within would surely attract unwelcome critters like snakes and ants. By the time the rainwater seeped into the ground, it would be insect fest galore. Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could help fix the shack. The blood that seeped down into the ground would leave it smelling bloody long after.

The girl and wolf were already taken to his camp to recover anyway. They definitely wouldn't be moving back to the shack during the rainy season. Fixing it would have to wait until the 4th month earliest. He packed up whatever he could inside the shack into the patchwork cloth he found on the bed and stuffed the whole thing into one linen sack before returning.

By the time he reached camp with the two workhorses, it was already eight in the evening. Myjack had prepared some hot water for him to bathe. He instructed Gum to unload the workhorses and put the three sacks of meat inside the main hall on the ground floor to be braised during the night, and the other five linen sacks to be moved to his room.

When he finished bathing and changed into new clothes, the sacks were already inside the room. The girl was still lying in bed, seemingly having just woken up. She rolled to her side with her flushed face and looked at the wolf sniffing the sacks as it circled around them with bandages wrapped all over it. It was a comical sight indeed.

"Oh, you're awake." Claude went to the bedside and touched her forehead. It was still warm, but much better than she first woke up that morning. "How are you feeling?"

"Y-you're... you're back?"

She wanted so badly to curl into the sheets out of embarrassment, but lacked the energy. She tried her best to tug on them nevertheless. She seemed to have been thinking so hard she didn't notice Claude approach.

"The... the bearskin..."

"It's done. I brought it back--" He pointed at the five bags. "--I did it just like the old one. Also, your shack is ruined, so I brought anything I thought you might need back as well."

"Im... Impossible..." she said, surprised, "H-how could you finish so fast... You left at noon... I... I want to see it... Help me up. I don't have the strength..."

Chapter 244 - Sheila

The girl ignored her weakness and knelt as she inspected the new bearskin. It had been washed in rainwater a couple times, but it still smelt of blood. Her inspection lasted ten minutes. When she was finished, her eyes darted up to Claude, sparkling.

"How did you do it?"

"Easy," Claude said, avoiding her gaze, "Spells. It would have taken me a day if I did everything by hand."

The girl nodded, unfazed by his mention of magic. She carefully rubbed out any unevenness in the pelt, and moved it into the sun.

Claude bent down to help her.

"Need help tanning it?"

The girl shook her head.

"No. I'd ruin it if I tanned it now. Dry it first. I need it for my spell."

"To pretend to be a bear? I recall you were wearing the old bearskin the first time I saw you. It looked like a weird bear to me. I was wondering how a black bear could walk so oddly. Didn't think it was actually a little girl though."

The girl's face flushed. She shot him an angry glare. She was still embarrassed at being caught in a birthday suit on her way to the bath.

"I was using a spell called Mimic. You think I can do it with just any old bearskin? The old one was getting too old. It's been used for at least twenty years now. There's no way to turn into a proper black bear with it, anymore. When I'm recovered, I'll have to inscribe rune formations on this one, but it should let me turn into a proper bear," she explained, her face still red.

"Mimic? Shouldn't it be Morph?"

Was she a druid?

"I remember reading a novel with evil magi that could turn into different beasts. I see it was probably inspired by a spell like yours."

"Mama told me magi didn't have to use skins in the past. They only needed precious materials. Even though it's said to be a transformation, it's more accurate to call it an illusion. In the eyes of others, we would possess the strength and agility of wild beasts. But when the magic resources began to run out, there was no way to cast that spell anymore, so we had to adapt Morph into Mimic. We now need skins in good condition to turn into a true beast."

"Do you think magi are evil?" she asked after a pause.

"All of humanity thinks so, at least. I don't think either of us are evil, but that will do nothing to change our fate if we're discovered. I see magic as a tool. Good or evil has nothing to do with it. That's up to the hands using it.

"I learned magic out of curiosity and the desire to unravel its mysteries. I've never wanted to hurt anyone. If people don't offend me, I won't offend them. Magic allows me to hold this principle without fear. I only worry about dragging my family into the dirty business of magi hunts. Nobody's suspected me thus far though.

"You remind me of my sister, Anna. She's seventeen; also a magus. When I realised she had a talent for magic, I warned her about the taboo. She insisted on learning it, however. I left home three years ago. She should be a one-ring rune magus by now. I trust she's taking good care of my mother and brother. I'm not helping you because of some ulterior motive. I didn't want someone who reminded me of my sister to die so easily. To tell you the truth, I admire you."

The girl lowered her head guiltily.

"Sorry, I thought you were like the others and wanted something from me..."

Claude laughed dryly.

"Haha, what could I want from you? You don't have as many spells as I do and live you live the life of a recluse. You've nothing valuable I could want. The only thing I could possibly think of is your wolf."

The wolf glanced up at Claude, then walked to its master's side protectively.

"Its eyes were still closed when Mama picked it up. She had me raise it. When I became a one-ring magus, I used Enlighten to open its mind and connect it to mine. That's why it's so smart," she said as she stroked the wolf and hugged it.

"By the way, I still don't know your name. Isn't it about time you introduced yourself?"

"I... I'm called She-sherulati Covenbrun... Y-you can c-call me S... Sheila..." the girl said, her faded blush instantly returning.

"Nice to meet you, Sheila," Claude said, "Did you learn magic from your mother? Where is she now? And why are you living alone?"

Sheila's face paled.

"Sorry, Sheila. I shouldn't have pried."

Claude slapped his face.

"I'm fine--" She shook her head. "--One summer, a hawk-nosed magus came. I think he was mama's acquaintance. He seemed to have asked her to travel to a place called Nubissia. He said that a magic ruin was discovered and he wanted to go excavate it. He formed a group with most of mama's other acquaintances and said that they would be gone for no more than half a year. The ruins was said to have more than a thousand years of history, and it had been preserved and left undiscovered for a long time, so the haul should be quite substantial.

"My mama was moved by the proposition and decided to go along with him. I was fourteen back then and could take care of myself. Blackwind was all grown up as well, so mama asked me to stay here and wait for her. She'd only be gone for half a year. But she never returned after that. It has been four years since then and I didn't receive the slightest word. I don't know where to look for her either, so I could only continue waiting."

Claude breathed a long sigh. It was truly a tragic treasure hunt.

"You don't know where the Nubissia continent is? It's a far wider and wilder place than Freia. However, most nations have their own colonies there. I heard that a voyage there by ship takes twenty days if it proceeds smoothly. Thankfully, you hadn't set out to look for her yet, or I wouldn't have gotten the chance to meet you."

"It's not like I don't w-want to look for her... J-just... I don't know where to start looking... I've lived here all my life with mama and Blackwind and don't know how to talk to others... Mama tells me all men are mean liars and those who offer anything always want something in return..."

Claude stroked his nose awkwardly. Wasn't she being a little too forward?

Footsteps sounded at the bottom of the stairs, then someone knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Claude was delighted at the interruption. He didn't know how to continue the conversation from there.

Myjack entered and jumped when he saw the bearskin on the ground.

"Sir, your grilled bear chops are done," he said when he'd recomposed himself, "Do you want me to bring it up, or would you like to eat downstairs?"

Claude glanced at the girl.

"Want some food? We cooked the bear you killed."

"I want some, give Blackwind some too."

"Alright, I'll bring it up for you."

"Sir, was she really the one who killed the bear?" Myjack asked when they'd descended the stairs.

"Of course. How else would I bring one back? The bear probably broke into her shack when it was looking for food. Even though she was hurt, she managed to kill it with the help of the black wolf. The poor creature was injured as well."

When he went downstairs, he saw Mazik, Gum and the two signallers eating away at the chops. Mazik seemed a little drunk as he shot Claude a thumbs-up and said, "Sir, you're really something... To think you managed to trick that pretty lass to come here..."

Claude gave him an annoyed punch. "What nonsense are you spouting? She's the daughter of a hunter and lives in the mountains. I got to know her when I was trekking. She was injured by a black bear attack and her wolfdog called me to go save her. We are just friends."

"Male-female relationships always start from friends," Mazik mumbled, "Why can't I become friends with a pretty girl? It's all because of your pretty little face... All women like those faces..."

"Eat your fill and scram," Claude chided.

The other three giggled as they munched on.

Claude got a plate and took a piece of grilled chop for Sheila and another three in a wooden bowl for Blackwind. Two of the remaining three was for him and the last one was for Myjack.

"By the way, Sir, what do you have in mind for the other two large sacks of bear meat?" Myjack asked.

"You and Gum can have a piece or two tonight. Get the rest marinated. Salt it first and dip it in honey, spice and soy sauce for two hours before grilling it in an oiled pan. Then, cook it in a pot with large flame for an hour before drying it. You can have them with black bread tomorrow. Just prepare it like how I showed you to prepare beef the last time, understood?"

He then turned to Gum.

"You, don't eat too much meat. Have some bread if you're hungry. Don't eat five catties of meat in one night like you did to our thirty catties of beef the last time. Just have a taste of the meat, but don't make it your main dish."

He went back upstairs and when the girl finished eating, he asked, "Sheila, there's another sack of bear bones. What do you want to do with them? They're too smelly to leave in the room."

"I need to hollow them out for the marrow. That's a main ingredient I use to make paste for external wounds. But I don't have any energy now. Just put the sack at a safe place and I'll deal with them when I recover."

Claude put down his empty plate.

"Why don't I help you hollow them out? That way insects won't gather around the bones."

Right after he said that, he laid out an oiled cloth on the ground and got a jar with a large opening. He cast Magus' Hands and Fine Control without reservation and easily snapped one bone after another and emptied the marrow out into the jar. Within half an hour, he finished tending to the whole sack of bones. The envious look on the girl's face only intensified.

"This spell really is useful. It's so convenient."

She was practically drooling.

"They are Magus' Hands and Fine Control. They are rune spells magi from centuries ago use for alchemy experiments. I use them for most household chores. Now you know why I was so quick to skin the bear, right? I used these spells to break your vines too. I would be willing to trade spells with you if you're interested."

"Really?"

Her eyes glowed brightly, but darkened just as quickly.

"I only know five spells. Mama took her tome when she left. It had many spells I couldn't learn. She also left with many magic items. I'm a two-ring magus, but I only have five basic spells in my first ring, and they're not nearly as useful as yours..."

So her mom gave away her treasures instead of returning with more. The doubt he held in mind was finally cleared. He could tell from the smog traps in the forest that her magic power was far stronger than his. Now he knew it was because she was a ring higher than him. Being able to reach this level at just 18 was impressive. She certainly had far more talent than he.

Too bad she didn't have any combat spells. No wonder she used the vines to bind him and attacked with the spear. She had no other way.

"Tell me, what are your spells? I'll see if I want to trade."

Claude almost seemed like an old man trying to bait a little girl with candy.

Chapter 245 - Nature Spells

Mimic Beast was the spell Sheila prized most highly. It was the simplified version of the ancient spell, Morph, and required a wild beast's skin in good condition, complete with all its limbs and skull. A rune formation was inscribed on the skin which would activate when put on and turn the wearer into a real wild beast, strength, agility, etc. included. The transformation's duration depended entirely on the magus' mana.

Sheila boasted that she could stay in beast form for a full half an hour. During that time, she would be a real bear and reign supreme in the jungle. Nobody could pose a threat. She didn't have to hide from other bears either. The worst that could happen was getting into a fight. Her beast form was superior to real bears, however, which came the closest to being her equals, so she didn't have much to worry about.

Claude wasn't that impressed, however.

"It seems useless to me. Other issues aside, wouldn't it be hot wearing such a thick pelt? Winter is one thing, but I'd dehydrate in that thing in the summer, not to mention the smell! The benefits hardly seem worth the effort and discomfort. Just use a musket!

"And why's a pretty magus brawling with bears? Surely you have better things to do. On top of that, this bear's a male. What if you run into a female who's more in the mood to mate than fight? Come to think of it, I shouldn't have removed this bear's junk. Maybe you'd give them a good time..."

The girl paled at his indecency. Had she been in a better condition, she would've leapt at him and mauled his arm off. How could he mock her favourite spell? She wasn't, however, so she rolled her eyes furiously instead.

"You lowly thug... Mama was right. All men are good-for-nothings..."

Claude was nothing if not a sweet-talker, however, and was quickly in her good graces again. He just had to promise to teach her how to use a musket.

Her second spell was Vine Wrap. It created vines from nothing that could be used to bind an enemy. According to Sheila, a one-ring magus could only make one vine. A two-ring magus like herself could make two. Despite that, the vines could be stacked and the spell could be cast repeatedly to bind the same target better, or bind others as well. She'd used the spell four times to tie the bear down. She'd had it firmly under control, but it had struck out with hateful power in its last moments and struck her with it.

Claude had tasted the spell's strength, so he knew it wasn't worth much against magi. While it had got him, it had not prevented him from casting spells. He'd needed only a fraction of a second to cast Magus' Hands and tear himself free and snap Sheila's spear and knocking her out.

Even so, Vine Wrap was one of the spells he wanted. Had he more space on his hexagram, he would've wanted to make it one of his basic spells. Despite its shortcomings, it still had its uses, especially in tight spaces.

Her third spell was Smog Trap, but it was completely useless to Claude. Eye of Appraisal detected them all without any trouble. He could avoid them by avoiding the ripples left behind when the trap was laid. Naturally, common, mundane people and animals would still fall for them, and that allowed Sheila to lay claim to witch's forest. She said each trap could last five or six days, but when she was a one-ringer, it only lasted three.

It was too bad it rained endlessly during the season. All the traps she had laid in the forest had been 'washed' clean, which was why the black bear was even capable of barging into her shack in the first place after taking a whiff of the smell of good food cooking from within.

She said that if the bear hadn't barged in through the walls, she would have been able to cast the trap by the windows to chase it away. Smog Trap could also be cast in the hand, but it travelled too slowly through the air to be useful in actual combat. Anyone that saw it coming could evade it with no trouble.

Her fourth spell was Enlighten. It couldn't be used frequently, but it allowed the magus to form a mental link with their familiars. In fairy tales and folklore, magi of the ancient past could subjugate mythical magic beasts and bind them with a blood pact to make them their loyal servants.

But blood pacts were formations that required lots of magic materials to execute, and the depletion of said resources also caused magic beasts to go extinct. Most people saw magic beasts as materials rather than useful familiars, and blood pacts began to fall out of favour. In time, magi began to adapt to using simpler animals as familiars. The key was to give its mind a kick-start, 'enlighten' them, if you will, so that they could understand the magi's intentions through speech, gaze and gestures.

Enlighten could also be used to quell frenzied animals, but only a four-ring magus or above was capable of that feat. Sheila said that her mother ran into a black bear fighting a wild boar in the forest and she used Enlighten to calm the two beasts down. They merely sniffed at each other before leaving. As a two-ring magus, all she could do now was calm wild bees and prevent them from stinging her.

The fifth spell was Returning Spring, also known as Floragenesis. As its name suggested, it was used on plants. It sped up plant growth, often producing large and delicious fruits. The blueberry shrubs in the forest were the result of her efforts with the spell. Sheila said they were her favourite fruit. Her mother used it to cultivate the herbs she used. It was also the first spell she'd learnt. Long ago, a wildflower she'd been cultivating wilted, so her mother taught her the spell. She cast the spell on the flower before going to bed, and woke up to find it alive again.

Returning Spring was a true treasure. It was the perfect spell for herb cultivation, and was thus a perfect fit for magi that were also apothecaries. Not to mention its possible benefits for agriculture in general. He couldn't believe the girl had only ever used it to grow a couple blueberries.

He wondered how he should rate the spells. They didn't fit any of the categories he'd learnt. Mimic Beast, Vine Wrap, and Smog Trap might have some combat support applications, but Enlighten and Floragenesis had no combat applications at all. They were likely not considered rune spells either since they couldn't be used in arrays.

"Mama said that we're nature magi, neither rune nor battlemagi. We come from a school of magi that respect and worship nature. We love freedom and peace and promote balance between the human world and nature and strive to live without wasting magical resources to maintain the magic civilisation. Instead, we use the insights we receive in nature to further our foray into magecraft. Nature magi like my mama live secluded lives in the forest and seldom show their faces outside," she explained.

Rune magi conducted alchemy experiments, battlemagi dominated in battle through the collection of magical resources and artifacts, and now, another type of druid-like nature magi joined the fray. However, Sheila's mother was a bad example for her as a nature magus and succumbed to her greed for more magical resources and never returned from her excursion to the magic ruins.

"Alright, I agree to trade for your five nature spells. What do you want in return?" Claude said with a smile.

"I... I want those two spells of yours... Magus' Hands and Fine Control," she said with her head lowered shyly, "I... I know that those spells are really precious, so if you agree... I want to trade all five of mine for them..."

Even if the girl didn't know about how rare Magus' Hands and Fine Control were, Claude didn't covet them as priceless treasures, even after Maria told him that his spells were forbidden and couldn't be bought even if one had money. To him, these spells were the basic tools used by the rune magi, the lowest common denominator in the magic civilisation, so how precious could they really be? Perhaps a substantial number of magi knew those spells. How else would they experiment with alchemy otherwise?

He thought trading two spells for five was a great deal. It wasn't like he had much use for those two spells at present either. He couldn't do any experiments. Apart from making his life a little bit easier, there weren't many chances for them to shine. Instead, he would have to worry anxiously about being discovered each time he used them. But for the girl, those spells would be immensely helpful for her feral lifestyle. At least, she would no longer have to cut open each of her catches with tools and her own hands any longer.

"Alright, let's trade. But I won't trade only two of my spells for five. Take the other three as well and we'll call it even. Let's hope you can learn that not all men are bad from this."

Sheila blushed, pouting.

"I don't need your pity. I know you're already making a loss by trading those two spells for mine. I know you're a good person, but I don't need your pity or help."

Claude almost vomited blood. He had been friend-zoned before he had even said anything. How could she say she didn't want his help with a straight face when she was laying in his bed?

He closed the window and pulled the curtains to make sure nobody could see the illumination that was about to light up the room. He shut the doors, too. Myjack and Gum were busy marinating the two sacks of bear meat downstairs and probably wouldn't notice anything.

He turned around only to see a look of fright on her face. Nervously clutching her blanket, she squealed, "W-what... what are you planning?"

What? Don't you wanna see me demonstrate the other three spells? Girl, what's going on in your head? What did you think I was gonna do? I know it's a good opportunity now that you're weak and barely able to put up any resistance, but the stiff bandages are a real turn off, you know?

He looked at her awkwardly. "I am going to demonstrate the other three spells I'm going to trade, alright? I'm a soldier and the ones outside are my subordinates. I can't let them find out I'm a magus. I wonder what you thought I was gonna do..."

He stretched his hand out and held out a ball of light. "This is Luminous Pearl. I use it as a light at night. I believe it should be really helpful for you. At least, you won't have to be afraid of the dark any longer."

With a shake of his hand, the ball of light dissipated. He drew another spell formation in the air with his finger and a small ember sparked alight on his fingertip. "This is Kindle. If you learn this, you won't need flints to start fires any longer and won't have to worry about eating raw food if you don't find any fire starters."

The flame was put out. He drew another spell formation and picked up an empty cup. With a wave, a stream of clear water appeared out of thin air and filled the cup up.

"This is Hydrogenesis. You won't have to worry about having no clean water to drink." After some hesitation, he continued, "There's another spell called Appraisal that'll let you observe the ripples left behind from casting. I used it to avoid the traps you laid in the forest. You may pick three out of those four spells to go along with Magus' Hands and Fine Control. I'll be trading five spells for your five. It's an equivalent exchange."

Chapter 246 - Kindle and Fireball

The spells he demonstrated had been categorised 'harmless' by his mistress. They were on sale in the magic shop in Whitestag for just ten crowns each to registered magi. So they were even harmless enough to be sold.

For Maria, apart from finding Luminous Pearl useful for reading and experiments, she didn't have any use for Kindle, Hydrogenesis, and Appraisal. She had a noble background and lived a life of comfort. She had no need to make/buy her own candles. She never lit them herself either.

No spell was truly useless to Claude. They were only ever used inappropriately. The three spells, Luminous Pearl, Hydrogenesis and Kindle, were unquestionably useful for someone living in the wilderness. He even thought that those three spells would be far more useful than Magus' Hands and Fine Control for the girl. They would give her a source of light at night, a fire starter and clean water. Life in the wild would be made so much easier with them.

As for Appraisal, Claude only thought about offering it to her later. He found it weird that, while rune magi had Eye of Appraisal and battlemagi had Insight, nature magi didn't have their own spell for detecting ripples. It was a huge disadvantage. First, they couldn't tell whether an opponent was a magus or not until they actually cast a spell. It made it rather easy to ambush magi like her.

There was also the potential of wasting mana unnecessarily. She usually reset all her traps once every five days because she couldn't appraise how much longer they'd last, for example. She'd only have to replace them when they were on the brink of failure if she had Appraisal as she'd know exactly when that would be.

When Claude told her about Appraisal, the poor girl nearly broke her head as she tried to decide what spell to trade in return. In the end, she stared at Claude like a pitiful puppy begging for food. She didn't want to say it, but she desperately wanted all the spells. She understood how useful they were.

Claude avoided her gaze, however, and left her to her own devices, even going so far as to whistle innocently.

How infuriating! Angered, the girl began to breathe haggardly like a little wild boar.

"I want all four spells!"

"You want all of them?--" Claude turned to her with an odd expression. "--You have other spells you didn't tell me about?"

"Not spells!--" She pouted. "--I have three medicinal recipes. I'll trade those for Appraisal."

"Three recipes... Apart from the ones that treat flu and external injuries, what do you have?"

This was exactly what he wanted. He'd revealed Appraisal for exactly this purpose: to get another recipe. He only needed to throw in Featherfall for the injury-healing paste's recipe. He didn't think she would be willing to trade all three for a single spell, much to his delight and slight guilt for bullying a young girl like her.

"Mama left me a recipe to treat broken bones and fractures, but that requires the powdered bone of mountain leopards and their marrow. It works wonders, but there are no leopards in this area, so we weren't able to make any. If you can't find any leopards, you can replace them with wildcats, but the effect won't be as great," she said, looking a little troubled. Since she had no sample for the recipe, she didn't know whether Claude would be willing to accept the trade.

"Alright, that's a deal." His nod gave the girl quite the surprise.

By the time he left, he handed over the drawings of the formation diagrams of the five spells to her and received the three recipes and her five spell formation diagrams in return. In the following days, he would have to memorise the nature spells and practice with them before burning the five diagrams. He couldn't hold onto anything related to the magic in the military lest he got discovered and exposed.

Naturally, he asked the girl to make sure the window and door of the room to be shut tight before practicing those spells so as to not cause any commotion that would attract the attention and fright of other soldiers. Claude knew that while he told the soldiers that Sheila was the daughter of a hunter living in the wilderness, the rumour that she was a witch was still going about. The black wolf that followed her all around was enough to convince many of the soldiers that she was a witch.

Claude went downstairs and was just in time to see Myjack, Gum and the two signallers help fry the bear meat in a pot of hot oil. The fragrance was incredibly pleasing to the nose. While it smelled great, the pieces of meat about the size of a palm were only cooked on the surface. They were still raw deep inside and had to be fried for a period of time along with the spices used to marinate it for an hour or so before it was completely cooked and seasoned.

"Sir, you haven't gone to rest yet?" Gum asked.

Rest? Where would I rest? You think I would sleep in the same bed as Sheila? Claude regretted bringing Sheila into his room. He should've brought her to the empty guest room on the first floor instead of his own bedroom. Now that she was already sleeping in his bed, he didn't feel it was appropriate to get her to change rooms.

"Myjack, after you finish putting the meat into the pot, go upstairs with Gum and pack your things and move to the guest room. Stay there from now on. I'll live in the room you two are using now."

He had no choice but to go for that arrangement. He was worried that Sheila's spell learning would alert Myjack and Gum since the two rooms were separated by only a wooden wall and it was all too easy to notice what was going on in the next room. When Baroness Vaskiri was still there and Claude had his way with her for the night, he saw Myjack and Gum the next day with bags under their eyes as they waddled out of their rooms. They'd not slept a wink.

"Alright, Sir. I'll move everything later," Myjack answered.

He didn't know what relationship his superior had with the beauty and her wolf, but he could tell they were close. He might just bed the girl like he had the baroness. Gum and Myjack would lose even more sleep then. They had to relive the hell of having to rub themselves out thrice every night when the baroness was staying with Claude.

It was best for them to stay as far away as possible. Myjack was no fool. If Claude stayed in the guest room instead, he might run into Myjack on the way there from the corridor and the situation would no doubt be awkward. That time when he heard some noises and opened his door only to see Claude carrying the baroness into his room, he almost wanted to slap himself at the sight.

Claude didn't think his decision to live in another room would cause his orderman's imagination to spiral. When he was done giving instructions, he put on his beastskin raincoat and headed to the stone warehouse next door to check on his band. He would also have to check on the outpost at the camp entrance. Those should've been Mazik's responsibilities, but Claude didn't know if he could count on that man, given how drunk he ended up last night.

After another week, Sheila finally recovered. She complained that the medicine Claude gave her was for military use and had rather poor quality and efficacy. While it stopped blood rather quickly, it usually left scars. Sheila was quite dissatisfied about the three marks that stretched from her left breast to her lower ribs about half a foot in length. She hatefully said that if she had managed to make her paste, those three scars wouldn't have remained.

While Claude was all too interested in giving them a good look, the girl didn't afford him that chance. Nowadays, she had grown rather sedentary and laid in bed all day apart from when she had to go to the washroom, bathe and eat. She cast Magus' Hands and Fine Control for tasks ranging from reading to cleaning. She even used one of her manifestations to hold Blackwind in the air and used the other to create a brush to groom it properly.

Luminous Pearl and Hydrogenesis also saw a lot of use. There would always be a ball of light hovering in the room and she drank two cups of water she created every day. The window and door of the room was almost constantly shut tight and nobody outside knew of her antics.

For the past two days, she had been researching Kindle's formation diagram. She noticed that it looked rather similar to the spell diagram for Fireball, a spell her mother was rather proficient in and had recorded in her tome. However, she was only about thirteen back then and had just begun learning meditation from her mother. She hadn't yet become a true one-ring nature magus.

There was once when she was picking mushrooms in the wild with her mother when they ran into a few grey wolves. Her mother stretched out her hand and blasted those wolves down the mountains with a few small fireballs. Sheila thought that her mother looked awesome when she used Fireball and constantly pestered to be taught the spell after they returned home. Her mother, however, found it rather funny that she wanted to learn it despite having just begun meditating. However, she still drew the diagram on the desk and taught her how she should use it to not disappoint her. Naturally, she wasn't capable of actually casting the spell. She had only listened on casually.

When her mother left with the other magi on a treasure hunt, Sheila was only fourteen and still wasn't a one-ring nature magus. She thought that her mother would return half a year later, only to be stymied to find that her mother's tome was nowhere to be found when she became a one-ring magus and she didn't know which basic spells to engrave. After waiting a few more months, she didn't have a choice and engraved the five spells she already memorised.

Fireball was the earliest spell her mother taught her, but she only had a vague impression of it. She couldn't recall the structure of the whole spell formation, so she hasn't been able to use that combat spell up till now. But with Claude's Kindle spell formation, she began to see some similarities and gradually recalled the formation.

When she told Claude about her new accomplishment, Claude was completely shocked. He remembered that Maria said that Chill was a simplified version of Freeze, which the Watch abridged for use of creating small ice cubes during hot weather. It made sense that Kindle was a simplified version of Fireball, but the spell formation was much simpler in complexity. It was rather impressive for Sheila to be able to reconstruct Fireball based off the formation of Kindle.

The girl excitedly drew ten-odd similar formations that could be Fireball and couldn't wait to try them out, only to be grabbed by Claude. He was completely stupefied by her airheadedness. If she were allowed to test Fireball in his room, he couldn't be certain whether the wooden building would still stand at the end of the day. Testing spell formations was also a risky affair. Any mistake could result in the spell exploding in the hand of the caster in the best case. At worst, there would be blowback from the spell and injury to the void space and hexagram was a real possibility. To remedy that, one would have to go through much retraining.

Claude had to promise her time and again that he would take her to the mountains to test it out after the rainy season to stop the impatient girl from doing it on the spot. She proceeded to inscribe her mana formations inside her new bear skin while pouting all the way. Since Claude had traded for Mimic Beast, he ought to familiarise himself with the mana formations required for the inscriptions to use them, even if he didn't get to see the spell itself in action. He then asked her why she prized that bearskin so much.

She said she could transform into a large black bear with the skin and take back a cave that had been made into a den by another bear. She said her mother stored many books in the cave.

Chapter 247 - Hidden Book

What?! A bear had taken over her mother's old hiding spot? Who hid books in a cave?! Claude didn't know what in the world her mother had been thinking. She'd left her poor daughter with no reference material at all.

She was screwed in the truest sense of the word. It was no wonder Claude thought that something was odd when he first saw the shack she stayed in. It only struck him later that the odd feeling came from the complete absence of books within. He couldn't imagine any magi that didn't have a collection of books, the crystallisation of knowledge, when they should be the most ardent scavengers of knowledge. They would record all sorts of insights they got on their path of the arcane and keep some books they believed were worth collecting.

"Mama set up a magic formation within the caves and took advantage of the dryness and coolness of the cave to preserve her precious books. We used to live outside the cave, but it was far from a water source and quite inconvenient. Mama moved us to the witch's forest and built that wooden house after thinking that it was a little too dangerous for me to play around near the cave," she explained.

That was no house, it was barely even a hut! He applauded her mother's sense of aesthetics. How could she call that a home? If it was a house, his current two-storey accommodation was a castle! Well, he supposed he should at least grant the woman that she was doing her best for her daughter.

He made an effort to appear earnest and interested in the girl's story.

"I was happy at first when mama left because no one forced me to meditate or study. I could go play with Blackwind all day. But a month after she left, I began to feel lonely. I meditated as much as I could and became a one-ring nature magus in half a year. I only then realised I didn't have any spells, so I tried to go back to the cave since I remembered she had a couple of spell scrolls there."

Claude had to fight to keep the twitch from his lips. He bet she had a whale of a time after her mother left.

"I didn't think two black bears had taken over the cave. At least one was inside at all times, so I couldn't sneak in."

Sheila's eyes were red and she seemed to be in pain. She had lost her home and couldn't take it back.

"So, I returned to the witch's forest and inscribed Mimic Beast in my hexagram. After that, I put on the old bearskin and wanted to fight the two bears. I quickly learnt that the bearskin was too worn and the bear I transformed into wasn't a match for them. Had Blackwind not held them back, I would've been torn apart..."

Her face showed nothing but complete gloom. Her experiences left quite a deep impression in her. Even recalling it seemed difficult. It was no surprise, since she had not even been fifteen at the time. It was quite a feat to muster the courage to wrestle the two already.

Claude hugged her and patted her back softly.

"It'll be okay. Don't be sad. I'll help you take your cave back. Even if you don't have this new bearskin, I still have my ways to deal with those two. I'll follow you there once the rain subsides. I promise."

The girl didn't think Claude was trying to cop a feel. She only concerned herself with how warm his embrace was. She hadn't realised how broad his chest was. She'd not felt safe since her mother had left. Her eyes swam and she had to fight back a wail. She may be 18, but she'd barely matured a day since her mother had left.

She snapped out of her reverie when she felt Claude's pats reach her plump little rear and shoved him away.

"You... you lecher!"

"My bad. You're so pretty I couldn't help myself," Claude said sincerely.

Sheila froze. Elated, Claude took a step forward, only to feel a formless hand grab his collar from behind and lift him into the air.

"Ugh... Sheila, I'm sorry, really. Please put me down!"

He finally realised teaching her Magus' Hands might not have been the smartest thing he'd ever done.

She ignored his pleads and threw him out of the room into the corridor.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Myjack asked.

"I'm fine. Get back to work. It's no big deal. I was just chased out."

Claude could only pretend nothing had happened and retire to his room.

The rain faded to a soft drizzle towards the end of the month. The rainy season was almost over and sunlit skies were on the horizon.

Sheila cooped herself up in her room the whole time, but was beginning to lose the last of her patience. She wanted to go out no matter what to test out her dozens of prototype Fireball formations. Claude had no choice but to take her back. They took a work horse along to carry all the luggage, mainly the bearskin. Claude took his freshly-oiled musket and corresponding supplies as well -- just in case.

It was a drizzle, but it was still inconvenient to travel on foot. Sheila wore an Aueran military uniform, minus the hat. Her hair was tied in a simple ponytail. Her raincoat's hood was down and she wore a straw hat. She moved at a light trot that made her ponytail sway behind her.

The black wolf also seemed to welcome returning to the forest. Staying in a room for two whole weeks was utterly stifling for it. Even though it had good food and sleep, Sheila started using it as an experimental subject ever since she learned how to use Magus' Hands, often lifting it up and swinging it around in the air and stopping it from crying out. It didn't help that the four baths it got in just ten days was torture. The vast expanse of the wilderness was the freedom it had dreamed of regaining for the longest time.

After an arduous, three-hour trek, the lot arrived at the witch's forest. Even though the rain was no longer an obstacle, the muddy path was still a problem. The girl and wolf acted like they were tourists going up the path the first time after being cooped up in the room for more than twenty days. They were often distracted and stopped from time to time and delayed the journey. She already had a whole bouquet of wildflowers in hand and her boots and pants were covered in mud.

The shack was still there, but it had become a bug paradise. The blood of the bear that seeped deep into the ground attracted countless ants and the occasional scorpion and centipede. The bloody smell also led its fair share of carnivores to the place. The inside of the shack was a total mess, with many claw marks dotting the wooden walls within.

Tears built up in her eyes once more. Claude went to her and lightly tapped her shoulder. "It's fine. I'll build another nice wooden house for you once the weather clears up. If the old doesn't go, the new won't come. I promise it'll be a true spectacle you'll be satisfied with."

The girl had long gotten used to his skinship after his endless attempts and effort. Naturally, there were some places that were off limits. Even if he excused himself by saying it was an accident, there was no avoiding harsh payback from Sheila.

The girl leaned her head on Claude's shoulders and said with a slightly choked voice, "This house was built by mama herself..."

Even though it was a little melancholic, the feeling was a fleeting one. It didn't take that long before the girl started pestering Claude to test out the spell again. Claude pulled her to stop her and advised her to check out her mother's cave first. Perhaps there would be a scroll with Fireball in it there. If she tested the formations out and suffered a blowback, then they would have to wait even longer before reclaiming the cave.

Fortunately, she was a sensible girl and could see the logic in his words. She had wanted to test the spell out before chasing the bears out of the cave. After all, it wouldn't be right for a girl like her to enter a messy brawl with savage bears. Using Fireball to deal with them was far more graceful. She'd be able to vent her pent-up frustrations as well. However, she didn't consider the consequences of blowback or having the spell formation explode in her hand because of a mistake.

"It'll be fine. With my gun in hand, the bears won't be a match," he said confidently while patting the gun on his back. Even if he didn't have his musket, he wouldn't have to worry about facing those bears unarmed either. He brought his musket along with the intent on demonstrating its power to her so that she wouldn't think of herself that highly now that she knew a couple more spells.

The girl widened her eyes and looked at the rainy sky and back at the gun on his back.

Claude knew what she was getting at. He unslung the gun from his back and laughed.

"It's fine. As long as it isn't a rainstorm, muskets will work fine. This weather is just right. My slow match had been soaked in oil before and it can still remain lit even when doused with some water. The flash pan is also protected by the cover on top. When we pull the trigger, the cover of the pan will automatically move out of the way to let the slow match light the powder within to fire the round. All we have to watch out for is to stop water from entering the pan during a reload."

The whole process of reclaiming the cave was rather uneventful. There was an hour-long trip up the mountains. The girl said that the entrance of the cave was on the halfway mark up the mountain behind the witch's forest. After crossing a rather harsh mountain path, they arrived at a rather large slope. At the bottom of the slope was a large pine forest, beyond which was the cave entrance. Outside the cave lied a large, black bear.

The bear growled from afar when it noticed the unwelcome visitors. To stop his delicious prey from escaping, it charged towards them with a loud roar. Two black bears came out of the cave and followed behind them. One thing Claude found weird was how the young bear was still living with the other two bears. Usually, the mother bear would chase its cub away once they were of age.

But it wasn't time to fuss with the details. Claude gracefully demonstrated the might of muskets to the girl. He shot the head of the charging bear and took its life easily. As for the two black bears freaking out behind it, Claude used Magus' Hands and turned them into two long spears, which he used to pierce deep into the hearts of the black bears.

Sheila was still standing on one side and putting on the bearskin in the hurry. But when she finished transforming and was ready to wrestle those bears, she found that she no longer had a foe to fight. Claude gleefully stood on top of the bear he shot with his musket on his back and struck a victor's pose. It was a shame they didn't yet have cameras in their age.

The cave stunk badly ever since the bears started living in it. They were dirty creatures that didn't care much for hygiene, at least what humans would consider hygiene anyway. Sheila cast Luminous Pearl and Magus' Hands to clear out the branches, bones and mouldy droppings of the bear from the cave. By the time she was done, the cave seemed much more pleasant.

"Where are the books?" Claude was quite disappointed and thought that the bears had ruined the collection of Sheila's mother.

"They're not kept here. This is the outer cave." The girl walked towards the deepest part of the cave, bent down and felt around the wall and infused her mana when she found the spot.

Claude noticed a hexagram glow bright green on the wall of the cave.

The girl breathed a sigh of relief. "I was worried the whole time that the bears would destroy this magic formation. If they had, we would've had to dig our way in. Thankfully, the formations remained intact after four whole years."

As hexagram after hexagram on the walls glowed, the walls receded inward. What appeared before Claude was a reading room. On two sides of the walls were rows of large, black bookshelves on which many beastskin volumes were placed.

Chapter 248 - Nineteen Magic Scrolls

Sheila tossed a Luminous Pearl into the room and dashed inside excitedly. Claude followed and Blackwind intelligently assumed the role of sentry.

A light layer of dust had coated everything in the room. It was most noticeable on the large table in the centre. Stacks of draft papers covered in strange scribbles still buried the table. They looked to be Sheila's doing in her youth. A candelabrum and an oil lamp stood on the desk, along with three ink bottles and a few quills. One open ink bottle revealed dried and cracked ink residue inside.

The girl dashed to the bookshelf to the left and knelt in front of it to remove a box from the bottom shelf. She hauled the heavy box up and gentled it on the table to disturb as little dust as possible. Claude's gaze shifted to the box and he saw it had a similar appearance to the one he'd found in underneath the ruins with Landes' diaries inside. The cover was also meant to be pushed apart rather than lifted off.

"Why didn't you use Magus' Hands? Isn't it heavy? Of what material is it made? You could've asked me to help," Claude said with concern.

Sheila would no doubt have cried had she dropped the box on her feet.

The girl poked out her tongue.

"I was too excited to remember the spell... This is cloudstone essence. Mama said using this box to keep magic items will keep the mana from dissipating and preserve the items perfectly."

So they were just like Xianxia pill bottles. Why did they have to call it something so ugly though? Wouldn't 'jade' have been a much better name?

The girl took one scroll after another out of the box and lay them on the table.

"Haha, you're right. There is indeed Fireball in here. We don't have to experiment any longer. What's this... Cultivate? A useless spell. Energy Barrier... A tier-one spell. This is good. I happen to be able to learn it."

Wait, Energy Barrier? Claude was stumped. He didn't think the girl's mother actually had such a scroll. It was a spell he had dreamt of owning. When he had bought the materials he needed for his array from Hurian, he was ambushed on the way back by the bearded magus. The magus used Energy Barrier to nullify his Magic Missiles and crossbow bolts and put him at a huge disadvantage. Had he not brought his spellbane dagger with him, the victor wouldn't have been him.

It was a shame the bearded magus was a broke pauper without a single tome. Claude couldn't get a single new spell, to say nothing of Energy Barrier. He had always been interested in combat spells. Though Energy Barrier couldn't stop muskets, it could nullify cold weapons, spells and close combat. It was a combat spell he much craved.

It was a truly surprising find. He wracked his brain for a trade (read: trick) to get the spell from her.

The girl continued blabbering as she removed yet more scrolls.

"Hawk Scrying? I'll have to catch a baby hawk for that, how troublesome. Damage Transfer, a tier-two spell... I guess I'll figure that out later. Stealth Sneaking... I don't want to be a thief. Lightweight Flight, a tier-one spell... I can learn it too! Hiking won't be as tiring in the future..."

Claude almost vomited blood. He finally realised these nature spells were all really practical. They were far superior to rune spells and harmless spells, at least. Rune spells were geared for alchemy experiments, and harmless spells could be convenient for daily use. He didn't know many combat spells. Only Magic Missile and a tier-one Chain LIghtning was in his arsenal. Mental Shock could be considered a unique spell that only he had, but it was not much different from a stick whack, given that his tier as a magus was still low and it was only effective against brainless beasts.

He could tell how useful those spells would be based on the names she recited. He was already salivating. Sheila, on the other hand, was still completely oblivious and continued speaking the spell names out loud. "Transmute Mud to Rock and Transmute Rock to Mud... These two are rather good. I recall that mama dug this room out with those two spells. It took her a whole month, though..."

Claude finally heard two spell names he was familiar with. The two transmutation spells were recorded in Landes' diary. Those were the two basic spells he had to engrave in his hexagram after he became a two-ring magus per the orders of the tower. It was said that rune magi with those spells had to partake in the construction work as mandated by the tower. For instance, the rocky path leading to the tower on Egret was constructed by rune magi using those two spells.

"Firewall, Hydrofalls and Maze Forest... These are all tier-two spells. I don't think I'll be able to learn the rest," the girl muttered with a hint of disappointment, "I wonder if mama kept that spell in here... I have to keep looking."

The girl flipped through the box and cheered when she took out a scroll. "It's here! With this, I don't have to worry about the mess of spells I've learned!"

"What's that spell of yours called?" Claude couldn't help but ask.

"Spell Transplant, a tier-three spell," she said with glee.

"Spell Transplant? What does it do?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

"You don't even know that? You're such a bumpkin. As its name suggests, it lets you exchange basic spells you've already engraved with something else. Too bad it's a tier-three spell. I can only cast it when I'm a four-ring magus. By then, I can switch out the spells I don't use much for more suitable basic spells.

Claude was completely dumbfounded. He had never heard of such a spell. Even Landes' diary didn't include any mention of that spell. Perhaps even Maria, someone who was well-informed of the state of magic on the whole of Freia, wouldn't know about it. She would've mentioned it if she did.

Yet, the girl took out those scrolls before him generously without worry that he would lust for them in the slightest. Anyone else would've already killed for those spells.

Claude couldn't help but stroke her head to mess up her hair. She had called him a bumpkin after all.

"What are you doing?!" Sheila snapped.

"You must remember never to show anyone else these scrolls," Claude said with a solemn expression, "They're really precious; completely priceless for magi. They can't be bought with all the money in the world. Most magi would lose their minds and immediately try to kill you for them. Before you can defend your legacy, never tell anyone else you have these scrolls, understood?"

The girl turned her gaze away.

"I won't tell anyone else, of course. But I trust you."

Words no longer worked on him. He swooped in for a tight hug and planted a kiss on her little lips.

Sheila's body stiffened as she tried to push him away, but strength left her and she gave in to the pleasure. Her mind was blanked and she couldn't think of anything but the feel of his lips and the taste of his tongue as it bound hers and explored the inside of her tender mouth.

He relented only as she started struggle for air. She burrowed into his embrace like a shy kitten, her arms wrapped around his neck. Her cheeks glowed like charcoal and her eyes glossed over like window panes on a misty morning.

"You're... you're picking on me again..." she whispered, more as a wet whimper than an actual utterance.

Claude squeezed her for a moment.

"No. I couldn't even if I tried. You're too cute. I don't even know how to begin to spoil you..."

He lowered his head again aiming for another kiss, another round of sweet violation, but Sheila had found her strength and pushed their bodies apart.

"Release me, you meanie. I'm going to ignore you."

Claude gave up and let her go.

"By the way, how many spell scrolls did your mother leave?"

Sheila sighed and rolled her eyes at him before counting the scrolls.

There were nineteen in total. Those scrolls could be used as reference for her to learn the spells. Additionally, one simply had to infuse mana in them to use the spells inscribed on the scroll without having to memorise it.

There were six tier-zero spells in total. Hawkeye was an appraisal spell for nature magi, much like Eye of Appraisal was for rune magi and Insight was for battlemagi. It allowed the caster to see further and also clearly in the night. The only drawback was that it caused the caster's eyes to turn triangular following frequent use. It was a huge deal for women who cherished their beauty. Perhaps that was the reason Sheila's mother didn't teach her the spell.

The others were Enlighten, Vine Wrap and Fireball. One of the two other tier-zero spells was Bee Swarm, but it might be more appropriately named it if were called Bee Breeding. To use the spell, one had to look for suitable bees in the wild to be put into the formation. Then, mana had to be infused within on a daily basis to accelerate the bees' life cycle. As generation after generation of bees came about, they would be familiar with the caster's mana and see them as the queen of the nest. Only then can the caster use the bees for attack or defence.

The last tier-zero spell was Cultivate. It was similar to Returning Spring. However, Returning Spring was for recovering damaged plants while Cultivate was more suitable for cultivating new plants and cross mixing them.

There were six tier-one spells, Energy Barrier being the first. Hawk Scrying, contrary to what its name suggested, wasn't an upgraded version of Hawkeye. A magus would have to first find a baby hawk and place it within the spell's formation. After that, the magus would have to use Enlighten on it and allow the hawk to be familiar with their mana. By the time the hawk grew enough to fly, everything it saw could be seen through the scrying pool cast by the magus.

It was practically a drone with a camera. The only bad thing about it was that it could only be used for not longer than thirty minutes every 24 hours. Otherwise, the hawk's body would be harmed by mana overcharge and its life expectancy would drop.

The third was Stealth Sneaking. It was similar to the stealth skills used by rogues in online games. It blurred one's body and allowed one to hide within the shadows without worry. The fourth was Lightweight Flight. Once cast, it decreased the caster's weight greatly and jumping from mountain to ravine would no longer be an issue. It was no wonder the girl said that she would have a much easier time scaling mountains.

The last two spells were Transmute Rock to Mud and Transmute Mud to Rock respectively, which Landes' diary mentioned. They were ideal for construction.

There were four tier-two spells, namely, Damage Transfer, Firewall, Hydrofalls and Maze Forest. Claude thought the most useful among them to be Damage Transfer. It could divert physical and magical damage to a nearby target like a large tree or one's teammate. Its biggest flaw was the limited range. It only worked within a radius of three meters.

The other three spells seemed to be area-of-effect spells. Firewall was as its name suggested. Hydrofalls conjured a large rush of water from the sky that could sweep the enemy off their feet. Maze Forest had to be cast in a forest, and it could cause the target to be trapped in the illusion of an endless forest that they couldn't escape from.

There were only two tier-three spells, Spell Transplant and Ent Guardian, the latter of which could convert a nearby tree into an ent to defend the caster from enemy attacks. It was tough and powerful and its only weaknesses were its slow movement and fire.

There was only one tier-four spell, Summon Stone Giant. The caster could call forth a giant golem made of stone to attack or defend. Even though it was as slow as an ent guardian, one advantage it had was ranged attacks. The giant could fling boulders weighing some sixty catties up to fifty meters away.

Chapter 249 - Spell Study

"Do you want to learn these spells?" Sheila asked, pointing at the scrolls in the table.

"I do," he replied with an earnest nod.

"Hmph! I won't let you!"

She shoved her button nose into the air and made a serious, proud face -- which Claude only found deeply comical. She wanted to get back at him for accosting her so unannouncedly, but the thought of it his tongue coiling around hers like a python, squeezing the saliva out of her glands for him to enjoy, sent a shiver down her spine and lit fires in her cheeks. Their glow didn't do her attempt at a prideful face any favours.

"As is your right," Claude said, not taking the bait.

There was no reason for him to. He did wish he could learn the spells, but he couldn't. He was a one-ring magus, and, as such, could only learn untiered, or tier-zero spells. He could only memorise the formations, but they would do him little good until he became a two-ring magus.

Of the 19 spells Sheila's mother had left, he really only had his sights on four tier-one spells, anyway; Energy Barrier, Hawk Scrying, Stealth Sneaking and Lightweight Flight. He had the two transmutation spells already, so they weren't worth considering.

Of the untiered spells, he had already learned Enlighten and Vine Wrap. He didn't need Hawkeye since he had Eye of Appraisal. And Bee Swarm was out of the question since he couldn't travel with the army carrying a nest of bees around. Cultivate was inconsequential since he might not have any use for it. If he did, however, he could use it in tandem with Returning Spring.

And then there was Fireball, the only attack spell out of the six. It was the magi's defining spell in his mind. Sheila had said her mother merely had to cast a few Fireballs to get rid of wolves. But, after reading the explanation on the back of the scroll, he realised it couldn't attack that much further than Magic Missile.

It might be a spell whose might depended on the caster's tier. Sheila's mother had been a four-ring nature magus, so her Fireballs might exhibit amazing power, but Claude was just a one-ring rune magus, so he suspected the spell wouldn't be much stronger than Magic Missile.

Fireball's advantage was its explosive effect. Just like a grenade, it detonated on impact. Magic Missile bore into its target and dissipated. If a Fireball consumed ten mana units, Magic Missile consumed three units instead, so its consumption was another consideration. He could cast Magic Missile three times and a bit for each Fireball. He thus had no interest in Fireball at the moment.

The tier-two and tier-three spells weren't even on his radar. Summon Stone Giant was the only tier-four spell and it could only be learned after one became a five-ring magus. Claude was years away from that, if not decades at his current pace. He also only really had any interest in Spell Transplant. That said, for the time being he had no reason to desire to possess it.

Ent Guardian and the three tier-two spells, Hydrofalls, Maze Forest, and Firewall were just as uninteresting. They were outdated, to say the least. They might have been useful if muskets hadn't come about, but they had, so there was no point to them anymore.

They simply just didn't have the range. Claude's Magic Missile, for instance, could only kill up to ten metres from him. The furthest it could travel was fifteen metres. Even if he cast it as a five-ring magus, it could only reach maybe fifty metres. Magi simply couldn't fight muskets, especially not massed formations of them, and even less so now that they could aim and fire with deadly accuracy at far greater ranges than before. Nevertheless, there were still some advantages to spells in that it was far more convenient than having to reload a gun. Once a magus managed to avoid the first volley of shots in a close range, he would be invincible. But all the gunners had to do was to widen their distance for five-ring magi to consider escape as an option once more.

It would take a few decades to make it to five rings from where he was now. But it took only three months to train a gunner. It didn't help that people with talent for magic were the vast minority. That was the reason the mundane folk revolted with their guns against the oppressive regime of the magi six centuries ago and drove them out of Freia for good. Even if it took the sacrifice of a hundred gunners to kill a single magus, it would still end badly for the magi given their abysmal numbers.

Claude let his thoughts wander to the history of guns and fell into deep thought. Sheila began to feel unnerved and tugged on his shirt.

"Are you angry?"

He snapped out of his daze and saw a delicious meal. He hugged Sheila and ate. He had to stop before he had his fill, however, because his meal started protesting a little too vociferously.

"How could I get angry at you? I'm smitten. Actually, I'm interested in tier-one spells, which I can't learn now no matter how much I want to. Who knows how long it'll be before I can. I might as well ask you for permission when I finally can."

"Okay, you must do your best and become a two-ring magus soon--" Sheila planted her head on his shoulders and enjoyed the hug. "--D-don't you want to learn Fireball?"

He shook his head.

"I have a spell of my own. Do you know Magic Missile? It's more suitable for me compared to Fireball. Since I'm part of the army and Magic Missile wounds look just like gunshot wounds, it's easier to hide my identity as a magus. Fireball would be much harder to cover up and anyone can hear the explosion from far away. It would draw undue attention to me."

It seemed like she just recalled that Claude was also a soldier. The two of them lived in wholly different environments. Sheila had lived with her mother in the wilderness since her childhood while Claude enlisted for the sake of his family. If the war didn't break out, the two of them wouldn't have gotten to know one another. Her dying from blood loss after being attacked by the bear that rainy night without anyone knowing might be a real possibility.

Sheila's mood tanked all of a sudden. Her wide eyes seemed to tear up.

"T-then... How much longer can you stay here...?"

Claude gave her cheek a light kiss.

"That depends on my orders. I should be here for a couple more months. Bluefeather and two irregular corps have to stop the enemy's all-but-certain post-rainy-season counterattack before we can move on. Most of our forces are already on the frontlines, so we don't have much in reserve right now. They had to split my unit into individual tribes just to cover all the rear chokepoints in this area, for example. My tribe is crucial to our rear's safety, so I doubt my superiors will move me on a whim."

Sheila didn't make a sound. She just hugged him and plastered her wet face into his chest.

"Don't cry, darling. Even if we part temporarily, I will come back for you after the war and take you home me, okay?"

Sheila's body stiffened and she shook her head.

"No, I have to stay here and wait for mama. She told me to wait here for ten years no matter what. At the very least, I have to become a four-ring magus before I can leave. If I do and she hasn't come home yet, however, I have to go look for her. I can't save her if I'm any weaker."

What did she mean by that? Did her mother know she might not come back? Why didn't she plan Sheila's life ahead just in case? Something sounded fishy.

Noticing Claude's curious look, she explained, "Mama went with some friends to excavate a magic ruin. If it goes well, she'll be back in half a year or so. But she feared that something unexpected would happen before she left since the ruins might be armed with some trap formations or forbidden spells. They might end up trapped within if they aren't careful and it would take time for them to come back out. Mama said that she was confident she can survive, but it'll still take a long time for her to escape the ruins in case something of the sort happened, so she wanted me to wait here."

He finally understood what her mother had in mind. Perhaps she only said that to stop Sheila from looking for her in case of her untimely demise. At the very least, she could be sure Sheila wouldn't leave the forest within the next decade. All he could do was hug the girl in his arms with his heart filled with pity.

"Alright. Then if I have any vacations after the war, I will come here to spend time with you and wait until your mother returns."

The topic at hand was too serious for him to flirt. He took out a linen handkerchief and wiped Sheila's tears.

"Alright, stop crying. You won't look pretty if you continue to cry, and I'll start losing interest in you..."

Sheila hammered his chest lightly but cracked a smile.

"You dare?!"

"That's better. I'll come back when the time is right. By the way, you don't have to worry about not having spells to engrave, right? Tell me what basic spells you have now."

"Yeah. I have Mimic Beast, Vine Wrap, Smog Trap, Enlighten and Returning Spring engraved as basic spells. Of the six spells I got from you, I only engraved Magus' Hands, Fine Control and Luminous Pearl. I didn't engrave Appraisal, Kindle and Hydrogenesis. Since Kindle is similar to Fireball, I wanted to test the spell out first before engraving it. I don't see much use for Hydrogenesis and Appraisal for now, so I won't engrave them."

She counted the spells she had engraved with her fingers. Being a two-ring magus, she could have fourteen basic spells.

"So that means you can engrave six more basic spells, right?" Claude pondered with his brow furrowed. "I'll have to think hard which you can use the most so that you don't waste those slots. It's better that you don't engrave Appraisal. I have an even better spell, Eye of Appraisal, for you. It's an appraisal-type spell we rune magi use. It's on par with Hawkeye that your mother left you."

Claude looked at the scrolls on the table. "Your mother left you six tier-one spells. You must definitely learn Energy Barrier, Stealth Sneaking and Lightweight Flight. Coupled with Eye of Appraisal, you only have two spell slots left. I have two other combat spells with me, Magic Missile and Chain Lightning. The latter was given to me by my herbalism teacher, Lady Maria. However, I'm still a one-ring magus and I can't use that spell. I still remember the formation though, so I can draw it out for you. Which of these two spells would you rather pick?"

Sheila pouted. "I don't like Stealth Sneaking. It sounds like something a sneaky thief would use. Let's change that into another attack spell. That way, I'll have three combat spells."

"No way. That spell is crucial. You must make it a basic spell," Claude refuted, "I didn't suggest Stealth Sneaking so that you could go around and steal. Instead, you need it to stay alive. I'm worried that you'll run into trouble living here alone. If you meet an enemy you can't fight, you can use this spell to sneak away instead of engaging the enemy in a battle to the death.

"How about this... Pick Fireball and Chain Lightning. Those two spells should be enough to keep you safe. I'll draw the other spell formations I have and give them to you. Chill can make ice for your drinks during hot summer days and Breath of Water will let you dive underwater for ten minutes. Featherfall will turn you light as a feather and allow you to jump from high places unharmed for two minutes. Summoned Breeze on the other hand will call a refreshing breeze to cool you down."

Claude sighed and continued, "Actually, I have Freeze. It should be an upgraded version of Chill. But I didn't remember the spell formation because it was a tier-one spell which I couldn't yet use. I can give that to you at a later date. If you have an empty spell scrolls right now, I can draw the formations on them. That way, you can spend half the mana to cast them."

Sheila, still in Claude's embrace, muttered sadly.

"You won't need blank spell scrolls. Mama left me an empty tome made from bloodback grey wolf leather. She said it was reserved as my reward for when I become a one-ring magus. But she was gone already when I finally became one and the bear had already occupied this place so I couldn't come get it. I have it now, though, and it's all thanks to you. Thank you, Claude..."

Chapter 250 - Construction of the Wooden House

Claude was bending under the workload as the rainy season came to an end. He had to procure supplies for his base, mainly food and ammunition, which meant he had to personally sign every document that crossed his desk, down to the slips verifying receipt of the goods. At the same time, he had to oversee the base's fortification works, which consisted mostly of stacking sandbags and building wooden stockade retaining walls around them.

Mazik didn't think his superior should bother. He believed the soldiers were just wasting their energy as the three-way intersection in the village would eventually be handed over to some poor keeper sods. Claude was only decorating the place for them. He believed that, instead of spending manpower on the defences, he could've let the soldiers fix the roads. That way, they could collect higher tolls from the travellers.

Fortunately, Myjack was a great help. He, Gum and Claude worked together to supervise the soldiers to make sure that everything was taken care of. When the middle of the 4th month came, every task at the campsite was on track. Claude got Mazik to hold defence drills a number of times and left him in charge of the soldiers' daily training. Only after that did he have the time to build a house for Sheila as he promised.

Sheila left the camp after the rainy season. Even though the smitten girl wasn't willing to part, it would be rather inconvenient for her to live within a camp full of other soldiers. So, she had Claude set up a tent in the witch's forest for the time being to stay in while she felled some trees to source the materials required to build a small wooden house for herself.

The house was built with reference to the design of Claude's villa in Normanley Wood. It had two storeys and the only difference was that the outer walls were entirely built of logs. Claude believed that they would be secure and strong enough to provide a sense of safety for her while she lived alone. An additional balcony around extending out some seven square metres was included. A lying chair and a small tea table could be put there for her to relax and read some books while enjoying some afternoon tea.

The two of them had begun designing the house during the end of the 3rd month when Sheila still lived in Claude's bedroom. Claude was the chief architect and he drew the basic blueprint and structural diagrams for the house. Sheila watched from the side and provided moral support. Taking into account that she would be living alone in the forest for some six years, Claude tried his best to consider both safety and comfort aspects in his design. He didn't want his precious little girlfriend to suffer any more hardship.

After he finished the designs, the wooden house was planned to take up around eighty square metres. The extra floor made the space within far wider than the wooden shack before. Sheila was elated and hoped she could move into her new home soon. It was too bad Claude became much busier during the 4th month, causing him to have no choice but to leave the logging to her. Though, it was a simple assignment with the help of spells.

Claude cast Eye of Appraisal when he reached the forest to avoid the new traps Sheila had set. The empty lot within the forest was covered with logs. A few hundred logs sporting diameters of around fifty centimetres were stacked up into some eight piles.

She leapt at Claude like a swallow to a nest. They hadn't met for two weeks. Claude stroked her hair after she finished her kiss-and-hug attack.

"It must've been hard work to fell so many trees."

"Two hundred and thirty seven in all," Sheila replied in a proud tone, "It's not hard at all. It's a breeze with the help of spells. Even Blackwind is capable of dragging them back here."

Claude looked at the wolf that was walking in circles around him and imagined its expression of distraught when it had a log tied to it on a rope and was asked to pull it back. It probably suspected that its master was going insane. How could its little body move such a large log?

But thanks to spells, the wolf could even run through the forest with a log tied to it. It was just like that time when Claude killed three large black bears to reclaim Sheila's mother's cave. They were faced with a problem when they wanted to head back: how would they move the three bear carcasses weighing some 1800 catties in total?

Claude didn't want to make another trip there the next day in the rain. It took around seven hours of trekking to get there. Back then, Sheila got the inspiration of casting Lightweight Flight on the black bear carcasses and was surprised to see how light they have gotten. That was how they managed to load the three carcasses onto the workhorse they brought there before they head back.

It didn't take half an hour of walking before she cast the spell on herself, Claude and the wolf. She even tried it on some large rocks and trees. She realised that the spell could effectively decrease the weight of its targets, whether dead or alive. As such, a solution to transport the logs required for the construction of the wooden house was born.

When they reached the mountains behind Squirrel Village, Claude hauled the carcasses off the horse and put it on the ground. They only returned to camp after the effects of the spell wore off. Sheila returned to her room with Blackwind and Claude gathered a tent of soldiers to bring three workhorses to the mountains to carry the carcasses back to camp.

Almost every villager and soldier in camp came to see the commotion. Killing three black bears in a single hunt with a single shot each was nothing short of heroic. The trust Claude's troops had for him soared. This time around, he didn't deal with the three carcasses personally. Instead, he tasked Mazik to hollow out two of the bears with their skin intact. Claude wanted to give one to his direct superior, Tribesman Lederfanc, to thank him for his help.

After that, he went to the witch's forest with Sheila two more times, first to determine where to build the wooden house and the second to teach her how to fell trees and find good ones suitable for building. As the rainy season had passed, Sheila felt a little pensive about staying in Claude's room, and she wanted to go back to the cave to continue studying magic as her mother had laid out of her, so she simply moved out.

Using spells to fell trees was simple. Claude only just realised just truly how helpful Magus' Hands and Fine Control were to his daily life. A tree around four meters tall and fifty centimetres in diameter could be felled within ten minutes with a saw manifestation. After that, an axe manifestation was all he needed to shave the branches off the logs quickly. Sheila only needed to cast Lightweight Flight on the smoothened log to be able to carry it back to the witch's forest with one hand.

During that process, all Claude had to do was to remain still. He didn't even have to break a sweat while he supplied the mana those two spells required to get the logs into the dimensions he required. That was why he left the logging to her before he returned to camp. He didn't think she would actually gather that much material within a week.

"Isn't it a little too much? We don't need nearly that much wood to construct a small house. I guess we can expand the scope of the house a little and use what remains of the wood to make a fence so that you have a yard to go with the house. That way, even if wild beasts enter the witch's forest, they wouldn't be able to reach the house that easily."

Claude carried Sheila to the tent. He had to return some books he borrowed from the cave to her.

Half of the books collected in the cave detailed some spell findings, mysteries of magic, alchemical records and history of the magic world, much to Claude's delight. Those books were things he would never be able to find in stores and they helped fill his general lack of knowledge regarding the magic civilisation. Now, he could understand some realities the magi of the time faced back then.

Sheila said that her mother had copied all the books down before preserving them in the cave. Claude made a cursory count and found more than 280 books on the magic civilisation on the shelf on the left wall. Her mother had definitely expended quite a bit of effort to copy all those books.

The shelf on the right was for the books her mother bought. Most of them were about geographical and nautical findings as well as herbalism and biology. The two sections on the upper shelf contained some folklore, novels, fairytales and other fictional works.

Claude even managed to find some elementary and middle school textbooks produced by Nasri and Aueras to be taught in their syllabi. That was probably what Sheila meant by homework which her mother left her before she departed. Sadly, she was a little too carefree and playful during the first half a year after her mother left. It was too late when she returned to the cave only to find some bears living inside. That was why she had a newfound fervour for studying according to the study plan her mother drafted now that she got the cave back.

Though rather reluctant, she admitted that she had only studied up to the middle school first-year level. She was going to self study the two sets of middle school textbooks from both nations next. Her mother's study plan centred around language, arithmetic, geography, nature studies and theology. History wasn't that important; both nations weren't the slightest bit hesitant about embellishing what they taught their subjects about their respective pasts.

Claude borrowed a few books about the history of the magic civilisation. They were all written in Ancient Hez, so there would be no problems bringing them back to camp. Not a single soldier knew how to read the language. Even though most of the common vocabulary across the continent descended from Ancient Hez, most people wouldn't be able to understand the primaeval language without the aid of a dictionary.

"I'm going to go back tomorrow night. I'll spend the night here for now," Claude said, much to Sheila's delight and surprise, "That way, we can start working first thing in the morning tomorrow and prepare the wood for construction. It will speed up the building process after we leave it out to dry properly."

While hugging and kissing was common between the two, and Claude had even felt her up on occasion, Sheila was still stubborn about crossing to third base with him. Claude couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her flustered look.

"Don't worry. I'll be laying out a mattress on the floor and sleeping there for the night. I won't do anything to you--" Claude pointed at the single bed used by the military in the tent. "--This is far too small and won't be able to survive our lovemaking. And if I really went through it with you, I won't have energy left to work tomorrow."

As promised, Claude followed through with his word. Even when she snuggled with him on his mattress in the middle of the night, he didn't make the slightest move. He wasn't willing to take her first time in such a run-down place. That was plain disrespectful to her and she hadn't readied herself mentally for it either.

The two of them awoke early the next day. Claude began work on the construction after a light meal with Sheila as his helper.

One twelve-metre log after another was driven into the marked ground, leaving only around eight metres of them above ground. Sheila cast Transmute Mud to Rock to reinforce the ground around those logs to provide a stable foundation.

What Claude wanted to finish that day was build the frame of the wooden house. He drove the sixteen logs that would serve as the weight-bearing pillars into the ground and linked the beams using mortise and tenon. Manifestations of Magus' Hands flashed from saw to chisel and many other woodworking tools nonstop. When the logs were in place, they were easily shaped and linked together.

That was why Claude insisted on them both working on the construction of the house. With the aid of the spells, he could take on the workload of ten experienced construction workers himself. He wasn't completely unfamiliar with woodworking and construction either, given his experience as a real estate developer, and he could make up for any shortcomings with trial and error thanks to the large wood supply available.

At four in the afternoon, Claude finally finished the work planned for the day. The next time he came, he would be working on the walls and the flooring. As he made dinner, he gave her some homework to do while he was away. In the following three days, her task was to cut the logs into floorboards and boards for walls. He would work on the finer details when he returned three days later.

After dinner, they were all over each other for a while before he kissed Sheila, who was unwilling to part goodbye and returned to camp.

Chapter 251 - Enemy Movements

Claude returned from the forest in the tail end of the 4th month. Construction on Sheila's cabin was completed and only minor finishing touches remained, such as the curtains, door locks and handles, kitchenware, and furniture. He arrived at around nine-thirty in the evening. He pondered whether he ought to have Gum and Myjack get the materials he needed for the finishing touches. But when he got to the two-storey building, he was surprised to see Sergeant-Major Mazik and approximately three tents of men at the table. They were relieved to see him return. The way they saluted felt like a burden had been lifted from their shoulders.

"What's with you guys? Did something happen?" Claude asked, returning the salute.

"The camp is fine. Everything is in order. However, we captured an enemy spy," Mazik said.

"Enemy spy? Are you sure? I hope you didn't mistakenly capture someone innocent."

Claude wondered what reason there could be to send a spy to this desolate corner of the world. Yes, it had a road into the three southern prefectures, but it was hardly capable of carrying anything near the volume of traffic the kind of offensive necessary to break through to this point, would need.

"It's true, Sir. He confessed," Mazik replied solemnly.

"What's going on?" Claude asked, pointing at Myjack, "Get me a basin of water and a bottle of blackcurrant fruit wine. I'm treating you all to a cup."

"A travelling merchant from the Great Plains of Canas arrived in the village this afternoon. The men didn't think much of them initially, but as he hawked his wares, he asked around about our numbers and our defences. The village chief grew suspicious and reported it to me. I followed him around for a while. At one point he withdrew with the excuse of resting, but headed to the mountain pass instead. We knew he must be a spy when he started mapping it out and arrested him on the spot. We found another map on him detailing the fortifications."

Mazik pointed at the brown beastskin on the table. Light yellow streaks were just barely visible on the bleached leather.

"Has he rolled on his masters?" Claude asked, squeezing a wet cloth.

Mazik nodded.

"This is why we were waiting here for your return."

If the information the spy yielded wasn't shocking, Mazik would never have been sitting there so seriously the whole time.

The spy had said that his master was a noble of the Great Plains of Canas, Count Loirkad Bar Krilaus. The plains could be reached by taking the left path of the three-pronged road. The count had received an invitation to partake in an attack on the Aueran camp from two nobles on the other side of the route in Eastern Askilin, Viscount Schoskby Lor Pasdor and the dominion lord of Squirrel Village, Baron Norwelik Wey Frinslan. The spy who disguised himself as a merchant was sent by the count to assess the strength of the Aueran unit posted there.

"Wait, you mean to say that the enemy the spy was working for are mere nobles and their private armies instead of the national force of Askilin or Canas?" Claude didn't appear panicked in the slightest.

"Sir, even though the spy said that the nobles are going to attack us with their personal forces, their numbers are nothing to scoff at. A few landed nobles in Askilin had formed a tribe of men and requested that dogshit count of Canas to provide another tribe of troops. They want to free up this route so that they can enter the three southern prefectures and make a huge killing there," Mazik nervously said.

It seemed that the landed nobles in the area already knew the main Aueran force that attacked and conquered the three southern prefectures were stationed at the borders near Rimodra and Eastern Askilin. The southern prefectures themselves were hardly defended. Apart from some large towns that had guards posted, the important choke points were defended by ranger tents or bands. Squirrel Village was one such place.

If those nobles' plan worked out, they would reap quite a lot of benefits by attacking the three prefectures. As long as they didn't attack the heavily defended towns, they would be able to make a killing without suffering many casualties by attacking the smaller villages. While the inhabitants of those villages were mostly Askilin subjects, that was a moot point. It could all be blamed on the invading Aueran forces who were supposed to have occupied the land after all. The Auerans were the ideal scapegoat.

"Sir, when do we retreat?" Mazik hurried Claude for an answer.

Claude looked him in the eye and knew why Mazik had waited so late into the night for him to return. If he wanted to leave the battlefield, he would have to wait for an order to retreat or be branded a deserter. Claude was his superior officer and if he didn't make a run for it, Mazik and his band would be forced to remain and wait patiently for their demise.

"What do you think would be the best thing for us to do?" Claude asked.

Mazik and the two tentsmen glanced at each other. He replied without hesitating, "Retreat and conserve our forces. We will bring all our forces back to the three southern prefectures and set up a defensive stronghold at the entrance of the mountain range and stop the enemy from entering the prefectures. Over there, we will be able to receive the support of headquarters and won't have to worry about being cut off from our supply line. It will take two days to travel from here to the three southern prefectures. All we have to do is to defend that chokepoint to force the enemy to give up."

Even though Mazik was pushing for a retreat, he wasn't known as an experienced soldier for nothing. His suggestion for a strategic retreat to defend the entrance of the mountain range was a really practical one. He had really given it good thought to come to that conclusion. His reasoning even made his retreat sound glorious. No fault could be picked from his response.

Claude shook his head. "We won't retreat."

"Won't retreat?" Mazik looked anxious. "Sir, there will be two tribes' worth of enemies! More than two thousand men! Even if they're private troops of nobles and aren't that capable, we only have 64 men with us. Even if we manage to take out ten men for each one of ours, we won't be able to survive their attack!"

Claude smiled and waved for Mazik to sit and calm down. "Even if the enemy has two tribes, can they really attack us with all their units at once?"

After receiving a bottle of fruit wine from Myjack, Claude poured Mazik and the two tentsmen a cup each. "Even though the enemy has two tribes of forces, they are all private soldiers who are uncoordinated and inept. It's true that our numbers are low. However, we can request for aid from headquarters. More importantly, we have the advantage of terrain. If you think about our camp's location, you'll know that there's no way the enemy will be able to fight their way to our doorstep."

Claude poured some wine on the dining table and used his finger to trace out the three-pronged path and three mountain entrances and marked the location of Squirrel Village and their camp.

"Look at this. This is the path leading to the Great Plains of Canas and this one leads to Eastern Askilin. The entrances and intersection of these two paths are really tight and within our firing range. If the enemy comes, you should know that they can only mobilise a band of forces at most on the narrow path. It would be lucky for them to still have a tent of surviving troops make it to the intersection here under the concentrated fire of our guns and cannons.

"Yet, the worst part for them is not over. After they reach the intersection, they will have to travel another 30-odd metres to reach the slope leading up to Squirrel Village. The slope isn't that easy to scale either. This 100-metre stretch of mountain road is right beneath our campsite. We can shoot them but they can't shoot us. If we set up barricades along the slope, they won't be able to come up to us and can do nothing but wait for their turn to be shot."

As expected, Mazik had his objections. "Sir, you are merely describing ideal circumstances. If I were those nobles, I wouldn't bat an eye when I send those farmer-soldiers to their deaths to drain us of our ammunition. It is still possible to execute suppression fire with volleys from far away to hurt our troops. They might even move a cannon or two here to attack us and slowly swarm us with pure numbers to wear us out. Taking our camp is only a matter of time for them."

Claude nodded and admitted that Mazik made a fair point. "I agree that our greatest weakness is lack of manpower. However, the area of our camp isn't that huge. All we need from headquarters is a band of men to bolster our defences. I believe they will at least be able to send us that much if we make the request."

Another tentsman stood up. "Sir, if the enemy uses wooden shield carts to for cover, our cannons won't be able to pose a threat to our enemies. Even if we can destroy those carts, the enemy's casualties will be low and they'll be able to pass the intersection of the three paths quickly. If you insist on defending this location, we will need headquarters to supply us with two more light infantry cannons. Only then can we defend the two paths adequately by firing in rotation."

The tentsman, a sergeant, had quite a bit of experience. He had probably participated in the attack on Wilf Stronghold. The Nasrian cavalry line that attacked the stronghold left a deep impression in everyone's mind. Even though it ended with the complete annihilation of the cavalry line, the four light infantry cannons they used greatly hampered Prince Hansbach's forces and caused a lot of trouble. The four cannons fired scattershot in rotation and covered the whole battlefield with shrapnel. Many a soldier fell within a hundred metres of the wall, leaving few standing and many corpses piled up on the hill. A line of cavalry troops that wasn't even fully manned was able to fend off the frenzied attacks of their attackers that numbered two folks.

"I will request support from headquarters," Claude promised, "There are three reasons I don't want to retreat. First, we already captured the enemy spy and we can't run just because he said they are going to attack. The words are coming from the enemy's mouth, after all. We can't be sure whether he's only making empty threats to scare us away. We don't even have information on the exact date they'll mount an attack, their exact numbers and what they're equipped with. We have to verify that ourselves first.

"Second, we have to report this information to headquarters. They will decide whether we retreat or not. We can't make the call ourselves. We already stocked up lots of ammunition and food here. If we retreat right now, we'll only be making our enemy's job easier as we can't move everything away in one go. Given the current state of the roads, we won't be able to travel fast with everything we're taking along with us and might end up getting chased down by the enemy instead.

"Third, I have already assigned our troops to build defensive fortifications around the camp. I thought that we would only be facing off against a clan or two of enemies, so those fortifications are more than enough. I didn't think so many people were invited to this party. Thankfully, these 'guests' can only enter the banquet hall one at a time. If we act quickly enough, we'll send the guests who came early home before the others arrive. Hopefully, the uninvited guests will notice that what awaits them inside the banquet hall isn't an all-you-can-eat buffet of delicacies."

Mazik gave up.If Claude agreed to retreat, he would have to bear the responsibility of the decision while Mazik wouldn't be affected at all. But if Claude wasn't willing to retreat, he couldn't escape either. If a sergeant-major and tentsman like him shirks on his duties, he would be blamed for everything to come and given a one-way ticket to hell according to Aueran military regulation.

"Sir, I want to remind you that our enemies from Canas might attack us along the left side of this mountain path. However, the enemies coming from the right are from Askilin and the original lord of Squirrel Village is among them. He should be aware of the terrain of the area and I believe he'll have his men trek through the mountains and attack us from the mountains behind Squirrel Village." The other reason Mazik believed they had to retreat was that he didn't think he could count on the advantage of terrain they had.

Chapter 252 - Preparations

Claude received a carrier pigeon message the next afternoon. 1st Rangers' tribesman, Major Lederfanc, hadn't made any decisions about Claude's report. He left him in charge of the situation at Squirrel Village. He was free to decide whether to stand their ground or retreat. He also told some news about the situation faced by the other units of 1st Rangers across the three southern prefectures. Claude was easily able to conclude that the major hoped that he could secure a crucial check point like Squirrel Village so that the nobles' forces won't be able to cause trouble in the prefectures.

When the 3rd month had come along, Aueras' forces scrambled to construct a road through Pikleit Mountains to transport heavy cannons and other heavy supplies. According to the plan, Bluefeather and the two irregular corps were to be stationed in the three southern prefectures to ensure the transport of supplies went on smoothly. Unfortunately, that road they built was flooded during the rainy season and neither goods nor people could use it. Repairing the path would take around a month and a half.

Currently, all the Auerans in the three prefectures were isolated troops with no way of procuring supplies and reinforcements from the rear. They had no choice but to endure for two months. It was possible that the Alliance's forces in Rimodra could wipe them out. The problem was that the Alliance was growing a little restless. They sent scouting parties out nonstop to the frontlines and launched probe attacks on the Aueran lines.

What remained of Askilin in the east side still persevered. They knew that the moment the forces of the Alliance numbering a few hundred thousand was surrounded by the Aueran forces, Askilin's demise would be inevitable. So, they gathered all their local garrison soldiers and launched a huge recruitment drive to form two temporary corps and prepared to attack the three southern prefectures. The irregular corps stationed in Eastern Askilin had begun fighting the enemy with full force. So far, they were still able to hold their defences.

As the two irregular corps and Bluefeather were concentrated at the frontlines, the three southern prefectures lacked the troops to maintain order. After some casualties were incurred from youths who were recruited from the area to repair the road in Pikleit Mountains, dissatisfaction towards their Aueran oppressors began to foster among the populace.

Four months later, Askilin sent a large number of spies into the prefectures to sow seeds of insurgency and gather supplies, leading to one local revolt breaking out after another. The units stationed in the towns were criminally understaffed and weren't able to stifle all those revolts.

The town of Rosa where 1st Rangers was based was in a similar situation. Thankfully, Lederfanc's neglect of securing unimportant checkpoints allowed headquarters to retain three bands of men to keep the populace in check. Lederfanc told Claude in his letter that they wouldn't be able to maintain order with less than a band of troops. In other words, the three southern prefectures were like a volcano waiting to erupt at any moment.

Even though the major had left the decision on how to deal with the enemy presence to Claude, he still expressed that he hoped that Claude wouldn't retreat for the time being and have Sergeant-Major Mazik gather the troops to defend the entrance to the three-pronged path. If possible, they ought to set up a defence line there and only retreat when pushed to the tipping point by the enemy.

Lederfanc emphasised an important fact in his letter: there were three bands of rangers defending the mountain paths. The one at the frontmost part was Claude, followed by Moriad and his band in Blackstone Village and one band at the mountain pass situated at the far end. If Claude decided to retreat, there would be no point in defending that mountain path anymore.

The reason for that was Moriad's band wouldn't be able to defend Blackstone Village if Claude chose to retreat given the terrain that was ill-suited for holding their ground. Squirrel Village was far better for the task. The enemy could easily circumvent the hills to attack Blackstone Village. Additionally, Moriad's band was tasked with ensuring the enemy wouldn't circle around Squirrel Village and attack Claude's camp from the front and rear to surround them.

As for the mountain pass leading to the three southern prefectures, there was a band stationed there. However, the terrain of the pass was even more unsuited for defence as it was easy to travel through. Even if they defended the enemy's attack head-on, the enemy could still pave a new road nearby to circumvent the defences and enter the three southern prefectures. The entrance of the pass had nothing more than a sparse forest and small hills, so even if Claude managed to gather three bands of troops, he wouldn't be able to secure such a long front.

If they wanted to keep the mountain pass sealed, they would need at least a tribe of men. But given that 1st Rangers was scattered all over to take over defence at strategic chokepoints, Lederfanc didn't have any other option. He didn't have many men himself and had to make sure Rosa was defended and kept.

So, he hoped Claude would be able to fend off the attack from the noble troops. Naturally, it wasn't that he wanted Claude to end up sacrificed there. He gave him the right to make the decision. He could choose to stand and fight or retreat. If he chose the former option, it would be ideal and Lederfanc would try his best to scramble together a band of men to be sent to Claude along with supplies in the form of food and ammunition. The only thing he regretted was not being able to give Claude more than one light-infantry cannon.

He put the letter on the table, tapped on the table and said, "I've decided to defend this place and fend off the enemy attack. Notify the signaller to sent a letter by pigeon back to headquarters about my decision and request for support as soon as possible. Sergeant-Major Mazik, you shall take control of 1st Tent and scout out the enemy's forces on both sides. I want to know their numbers, armaments and the date of their attack.

"2nd Tent and 3rd Tent will be in charge of further fortifying our defences. I want you to dig until the mountain path is cut off. We'll bridge it up with wooden boards temporarily. That way, if the enemy attacks, we can delay their advance a little. Even if they can fill up the hole in the path, they will be within our firing range the whole time. I want to see what kind of price the enemy is willing to pay to fix the path.

"4th Tent will be stationed in the trench between Squirrel Village and our campsite to prevent the enemy from attacking us from the rear of the village. Cannoneer squads, get your cannons in place and ensure that they're hidden and protected. Myjack, go to Blackstone Village this afternoon and ask Sergeant-Major Moriad to come to me immediately. I want to discuss troop placement with him. If we are unable to hold our ground against the enemy, I want his band to ensure that we have an escape route."

Mazik stayed behind after everyone left. He looked at Claude in despair and said, "Sir, are you really not going to retreat?"

The enemy numbered more than two thousand after all. Even if headquarters sent another band to back them up, they would only have 120 men tops. It was a disparity of almost twenty to one. An old veteran like Mazik believed that Claude's decision was suicidal. The countdown to their demise had already begun.

Claude smiled and patted his shoulder. "Even if we retreat, we'll be heading all the way to the mountain pass. Do you think there's a spot along the way with better terrain than this? No. Since we're going to fight, either way, might as well do it here. At least we have the advantage of the high ground here. Even though the enemy is numerous, most of them are private soldiers of the nobles who can't fight well. I believe that there's a good chance we can fend the enemy off. Perhaps after this victory, your shoulder mark will be the same as mine."

Veterans like Mazik would always be terrified by numbers. In his experience, the side with ten times the numbers to the enemy's would no doubt win. Yet, now their odds were twice as bad. He believed they would no doubt be overwhelmed and wanted to retreat. It would be futile, however. He wouldn't be able to avoid the fate of fighting defensively down the line. Claude had decided to stand his ground because of the terrain they occupied. Even if they were to retreat, they would only do so after giving the enemy the biggest blow they could.

Mazik grit his teeth.

"Whatever. I'll join you on this insane trip. If I'm to die here, that means it's my fate. Who asked me to meet an idiot second lieutenant superior like you..."

He then turned and left for his scouting assignment with 1st Tent.

Claude smiled and shook his head. "Gum, let's go to Squirrel Village and see the chief."

With the battle on the horizon, Claude believed that the villagers wouldn't want to stay. He planned to get the chief to evacuate the village and lead them to Blackstone Village only to return after the battle. The village chief was rather reasonable and agreed to Claude's evacuation request. However, he also offered to provide some manpower to help with the construction of the defences. Claude was overjoyed and provided the villagers with some rations as compensation before they left.

The schedule was hectic, but work was being done nevertheless. But as time passed, not a single trace of the nobles' private troops could be seen. Angered and embarrassed, Mazik went to their makeshift dungeon and interrogated the spy once more while giving him a good beating. The spy swore that the information he gave was true. Before he left, his lord said that they would march after he returned. Perhaps something had changed to alter that decision.

Four days later, the band from headquarters arrived at Squirrel Village. Claude was surprised to see Dyavid leading the band as bandsman. Dyavid said that he volunteered to go after hearing about it.

Claude had two bands of hundred-odd men. Dyavid's company wasn't fully staffed, having only 45 men. His unit suffered nine casualties throughout the revolts in the three southern prefectures and six were still healing in the infirmary at headquarters. Mazik's band had a full 54 men and another three cannoneer squads numbering fifteen more. Claude, Myjack, Gum and the signaller headquarters prepared for them included, there were 118 men in camp, further bolstering his confidence of fending off the enemy.

But after all the preparations were finished, the enemy didn't show. Mazik gave up on the notion of retreating and instead manned up and took the initiative to infiltrate Count Loirkad Bar Krilaus' fief to gather some information. He returned with two pieces of news for Claude: one good, one bad.

The good news was that Count Krilaus' troops were a hodgepodge and unruly bunch. Apart from two of his bands that comprised proper garrison soldiers and could put up a decent fight, the rest of the troops were farmers and herders. Their weapons were antiquated and not standardised, with the better-equipped ones armed with old hunting muskets while the remainder used large blades and spears. There were also some who had nothing but pitchforks.

The bad news was the count's men numbered near four thousand. They were closer to a line of troops than a tribe. The reason for that was the nobles of Askilin came over to join the fray after hearing that Count Krilaus was going to the three southern prefectures for raiding. They wanted to make themselves a quick buck. As for the reason they hadn't attacked yet, some nobles hadn't finished gathering their troops and would require a bit more time.

As for the Askilin side, the nobles had a back and forth with their nation's military and caused a delay in their plans. It was said that the Duke of Askilin demanded the nobles to hand their private forces over to defend the eastern lines and take back the three southern prefectures as soon as possible. However, the nobles weren't willing to send their personal forces to the battlefield in the east to be sacrificed. So, they submitted their own proposal to form their own coalition to enter the three southern prefectures through Pikleit Mountains to drive the Auerans away.

With the enemies on both sides missing their date, Claude had no choice but to wait anxiously until their arrival.

Chapter 253 - The Battle Begins

Black smoke rose to the heavens some distance away. Myjack barged into Claude's study, anxious.

"The enemy is here, Sir! I saw a smoke signal!"

Claude put down the book he'd been reading.

"They were going to come sooner or later. Why are you so excited? I would've thought your relatives had come if I didn't know better."

"Ugh..." Myjack groaned, "I'm just happy, okay? We've been sitting around waiting for them for too long. The men's nerves are shot. They can't wait any longer."

Claude had to admit the enemy were just too slow. He had finished all his fortification works some time ago. Mazik, who had finally given up on retreating, followed into the study. He asked for permission to sneak into Count Krilaus' land and find out what was going on. Claude acceded, and the man departed.

He returned two days later to inform them that the delay was due to a disagreement between the nobles regarding how the spoils should be split. They believed that, since they had the most men, they were the army's backbone and as such deserved better terms. Amongst their demands was to not be put under anyone's command, and to be given more freedom in choosing where they wished to raid.

While the Askilinian nobles hoped the Canasians would help them, the three southern prefectures were still their territory. Even if Canas wanted a share, they shouldn't go overboard. They knew that if they agreed to the renegotiation, they would be letting a pack of wolves into the midst of their sheep. They couldn't give them free reign. Their people would not forgive them.

If the Duke of Askilin wasn't dissatisfied enough with his own nobles not handing control of their forces to him, he certainly would lose it if they let friendly foreigners sack his duchy.

That was why the Askilin nobles gathered at Count Krilaus' fief sternly insisted that the Canas nobles raid orderly after entering the three southern provinces. In other words, they could raid public storehouses, but not kill people casually, not burn down buildings, and also not enter private residences. An enforcer unit for military regulations also had to be sent out to supervise their movements.

As for the Aueran troops defending the mountain pass, not a single one of those nobles took them seriously. They heard from those escaping the three southern prefectures that there were only three Aueran bands defending the path at three separate locations. They numbered less than two hundred in total. Even if the spy they sent didn't return, which probably meant that the Auerans had picked up on some of their plans, it didn't matter. There was no way they'd be able to put up any resistance when the two nations were gathering their forces and had numerical superiority. Doing so was akin to bashing an egg against a rock.

Mazik now knew how ridiculous the retreat he had in mind previously was. Even he felt annoyed and thought that the disorderly bunch wouldn't win even if they had the numbers. That was especially the case now that Claude had perfected their defensive fortifications. Mazik couldn't wait for their attack to start and see them run into their defences and bash their heads on it.

Claude stood up, opened the window of his study and looked at the towering smoke. Soon, three riders dashed across the path. After they passed, a few soldiers at the side of the road lifted some wooden boards used as temporary bridges on their workhorses and returned. Even though the path looked normal, the Aueran soldiers knew that it was a huge trap which could kill and maim any enemy that fell within.

Claude went downstairs and saw Mazik rushing to him.

"Sir, the enemy is here."

Claude nodded.

"I saw the smoke signal."

"The three soldiers on scout duty today saw the enemy vanguard advance and made the smoke signal before returning. According to their marching speed, it's estimated that the enemy will arrive in another four to five hours."

"Are they only coming from Canas? What about Askilin's side?" Claude looked at the eastern sky and saw no smoke.

"Perhaps they still haven't finished negotiating," Mazik guessed.

"Well, notify the scouting soldiers at the front to retreat. Since the Canasian nobles have already sent their forces here, we won't have to wait for the Askilinian troops to come. Remove all the wooden boards on the roads to set the traps beforehand. If we only do so when the Askilinian troops attack a few days later while the Canas troops are attacking, we'll be shot at and suffer unnecessary casualties."

"Yes, Sir. I will send someone to notify them." Mazik turned to leave.

Soon, the three scouts stationed at the path leading to Askilin were called back. The wooden boards on the ground were transported back on workhorses and erected on the mountain road behind Squirrel Village. Every twenty-odd metres, one such board around six metres in height was erected. Five of those were erected in total. Currently, all the soldiers had retreated into the mountains.

"Myjack, when the enemy shows up at the curving path ahead, light the smoke signal to notify Moriad in Blackstone Village to execute the plan," Claude instructed.

The road leading to the Great Plains of Canas was built halfway up a hill and directly opposite the camp. It was roughly 150 metres long. However, that road curved around Squirrel Village before connecting to the three-pronged path. There were only roughly 300 metres between the turn and their camp. In the middle of the turn was a very steep slope. The distance between the very bottom of the slope and the normal road height was more than seventy metres. In other words, even a lucky person would get hurt from a fall of that height if he didn't die outright. There was no way anyone would be climbing out of it.

Claude used gunpowder-loaded jars to create five dips along 300 metres from the turn to the three-pronged path. He then had the soldiers dig five large traps and covered them up for wooden boards while they were not in use. Now that the enemy was coming, the boards were removed and the traps were covered up. If the enemy was careless, they would fall to their demise.

Using traps to kill a few enemies was child's play. Mainly, the traps holes were there to hamper enemy progress. If they wanted to go through, they would either have to use wooden boards like Claude did or fill the traps up with earth. However, Claude had ordered his troops to fell all trees within the vicinity of the path during the extra days they got when the enemy was dallying. Any rock the enemy could use to fill the holes were tossed into the deep mountains. If the enemy wanted to fill them up, they would have to source rocks and wood from far away. Most importantly, the whole path was within firing range of the camp. When the time came, the Aueran troops would shoot down the enemy soldiers trying to fill the holes one after another like they were shooting targets.

"Sergeant-Major Mazik, I will leave command to you later. If the enemy shows up at the turn, you may give the order to fire the cannons. My only demand is for the enemy to be kept at that turn today so that they don't appear on this path. I will go to Dyid's side for a look. I can't help but worry now that the enemy didn't show up on Askilin's side."

"Roger that, Sir. I promise I won't let a single enemy on this side of the path. Please rest assured."

Claude brought Gum and Myjack with him to Dyavid's defence line which was set up at the mountain behind Squirrel Village. The slopes there were gentle and connected to the mountain path. There was a high probability that the nobles of Askilin would march their private forces through that part to occupy Squirrel Village first before attacking the camp.

However, the place was fine. Not a single enemy could be seen. Dyavid was gnawing on a grass stalk with his chest flat against the trench walls. He was shocked to see Claude arrive. "Why are you here, Sir?"

"The enemies from Canas are coming, yet there's nothing going on here at your side. I've asked our scouts on the Askilin side to retreat and remove all the wooden boards on the road. I wanted to check if there's anything amiss here."

"What can go wrong? I'll see the enemy if they come this way," Dyavid said as he pointed at the winding path ahead. It was as he had said. The path was in full sight and any sign of the enemy would be easily detected.

Claude shook his head. "I'm not worried about the day. The key is the night. The enemy might take advantage of the darkness to attack at that time. What I want you to do is to move your troupe ahead just like how we ambushed the mounted scouts back then. If you notice any enemy troops coming, engage immediately and make a slow retreat before reaching here to defend. Light bonfires on the path during the night so that the enemy wouldn't be able to launch a surprise attack."

"Alright. I was bored without having anything to do anyway. I'll take the troops ahead like you said," Dyavid said with a smile, "Relax. A few soldiers of nobles aren't as good as you think they are. Didn't Mazik say that they're a disorderly bunch who wouldn't be able to stand a single attack?"

Claude didn't have a choice. The battle was about to break out and he would be fully responsible for whatever happened. Both in his past life and this one, he had always been one to worry too much. He was paranoid about missing out the slightest detail that would lead to failure. Not to mention, an enemy with numbers ten times their own was terrifying, even if they were a bunch of helpless sheep. The disparity weighed heavily on him. This was real war, not a game. Dead people won't respawn.

After returning from Dyavid's station, he checked the layout of the defenses around the village once more. The villagers had all evacuated to Blackstone Village. Nobody was left behind. Claude had set a trap inside the village to bait the enemy.

After returning to camp, he found that the Canasian troops hadn't arrived at the turn yet. Further along the path was a long line of marching troops. Taking a peek with his telescope, Claude couldn't help but laugh. It seemed like Mazik was right. The enemy didn't seem the slightest bit capable at all. The weapons they wielded were all sorts, ranging from hunting bows, spears, axes, shields, hacking blades and even pitchforks. They were dressed horribly and only a few guns could be sighted. Instead of an army, they would be more aptly called a gathering of vagabonds.

Even more dumbfounding was how they weren't even in proper marching formation. People would step out of line and rest on the roadside from time to time and even gather together in groups of five to talk and chat. They only returned to marching when a supervisor came to them with a whip. They were a flock of ducks taking a leisurely walk, not the slightest bit nervous about the upcoming battle.

It was no wonder they took so long. Claude suddenly felt relieved. If all his preparations weren't able to stop that kind of enemy, he would jump off a cliff out of embarrassment. Those 'soldiers' seemed like they were heading to witness a show instead of going to war.

Half an hour later, a messy tune that could barely be argued to resemble a song could be heard. It seemed like a kind of vulgar folk song that was sandwiched around bouts of laughter. Finally, a squad of well-dressed musketeers appeared at the turn. They should be the personal guard of some noble instead of some random drafted farmers. Just like a fruit stall owner who displayed his best fruits in front, the nobles brought their finest men to the forefront.

The Canas nobles were probably aware of the kind of men among their troops. So, they let the ones who were at least dressed presentably lead the way at the front to bolster their fearsomeness. It was too bad they had forgotten that they were marching in the territory guarded by Aueran troops instead of the safety of their dominions.

"Fire!" Mazik ordered with angry fervour. His patience had run out completely.

A light infantry cannon that had long taken aim let out an ear-shattering boom, launching a fist-sized metal round that covered the 150-metre distance in a flash and rammed into the ranks of the marching troops. A cloud of dust, blood, and broken limbs was beaten up.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The muskets at the camp fired in unison, covering the area in a cloud of smoke. Any soldier that remained standing at the turn following the cannon shot was wiped out by the musket volley that followed. All enemies at the turn had been struck down and nothing but agonised cries could be heard.

The sudden shock had stifled the enemy. After a long while, panicked shrieks, heated arguments and vile curses could be heard from the back of the line. A few gunshots and cries were enough to reinstate silence. It didn't take long before some soldiers sneaked about around the turn and looked towards the camp.

"Sir, the enemy is crouching low on the ground and collecting the bodies," Mazik reported.

"Let them collect all they want, but don't let them stand up."

"Understood!"

Chapter 254 - Night Attack

Within a single afternoon, the light infantry cannons controlled by Mazik fired only three times. The musketeers also only shot three volleys. In total, they had killed around ninety enemies. The Canasian nobles were no longer willing to send any of their men to turn to their deaths after that.

The terrain was truly too disadvantageous to the attackers. That kind of distance was just right for cannon and muskets to shoot at them. The turn was small and narrower than four metres, only enough for one carriage to make a turn. Only six people at most could go through it single file at once. On the side of the turn was a ravine and one careless mistake was enough to cause one to fall off it.

According to the original marching plan, the Canasian nobles wanted to leave in the morning, arrive in Squirrel Village during the afternoon and camp there for the night. They didn't think that the Aueran troops stationed there didn't choose to retreat and instead chose to stand their ground and used the terrain to their advantage to deliver a harsh blow to the Canasian troops.

"Didn't you say that the band of men stationed at Squirrel Village had already retreated?! I thought that we could go to the three southern prefectures unimpeded!" cried a frenzied noble as he clutched another noble by the collar. He didn't think that a single turn would cause half his household forces to be lost.

If he had known better, he wouldn't have let his household's band of men take point. The others had praised him for having a unit comprised entirely out of elite troops instead of retired veterans and he agreed to their suggestion to take point in the heat of the moment. It was, an honour, after all. There would also be a better chance for his men to reap better spoils if they were at the front row.

Before they left, he had also suggested for a scout to be sent out to inspect the situation to make sure there were no enemies up ahead. However, everyone thought that their enemy had escaped. The accursed Baron Linkbyk even confidently proclaimed that there would not be a single enemy barring their way, given that they had a whole line of four thousand troops while the three enemy bands numbered less than two hundred. They would definitely have a deathwish if they didn't escape. There was no way they could be waiting for them in ambush.

Now, the noble cried all his tears dry. He had lost around three tents of men from his single band. Fortunately, the last tent of men didn't pass the turn. Otherwise, this viscount would have zero men under his command. He really wanted to challenge Baron Linkbyk to a duel, but he knew he wouldn't stand a chance. It was common knowledge that the viscount's band was the core force of his house, House Plist. He didn't think that the band he had spent so much resources on building would be crippled before they could even fire a shot.

"Viscount Plist, let Baron Linkbyk go," an older noble came and advised, "This is something we couldn't have predicted. None of us could predict that the Aueran band wouldn't retreat and instead chose to defend Squirrel Village to use the terrain against us. Please get over your loss. Now, we have to discuss how to attack our enemy and occupy the village."

The viscount had no choice but to let go of that baron, but he refused to join the following discussion. "Apologies. My household is no longer capable of participating in the attack. My band has been crippled and can only help out with suppression from the rear. If we do manage to reach the three southern prefectures, I only hope that all of you can leave us something so that my household can recover from my losses."

Not a person was willing to stop the viscount from retreating away. They knew that losing most of the band was a critical blow to House Plist. Even though they managed to gather a force of four thousand plus, most of the numbers weren't actual soldiers, but were rather subjects of the dominions. The real forces of the households numbered less than a quarter of the total number. It was already quite rare for a noble house to have a tent or two fully-equipped soldiers as the costs of maintaining a force like that was quite high in Canas.

After half a day of debates, the nobles decided to send some men out to test the enemy's defences. This time around, they wouldn't be sending their actual troops to die. Instead, they got some conscripted subjects and arranged them into a few lines before forcing the poor sods to march towards the turn.

They soon discovered the extent of the defences of the Aueran band. There was one light-infantry cannon and some forty muskets. While it didn't seem like much, not a single one of the unfortunate chosen survived the turn. Their corpses were littered everywhere.

One of the nobles with rich combat experience believed that the light infantry cannon wasn't that terrifying. Instead, the true threat came from the precise and effective musketeers. In their last test, of the twenty-odd men they forced to march to the turn, only three were blasted by the cannons. The rest were all killed by musket shots. Even the one running the fastest didn't make it past ten metres. It seemed like the Auerans were armed with precision-aiming muskets and the distance of the turn to the camp was within the their firing range.

There was no way they were able to send anyone to the turn. Not a single one of the troops that remained were willing to charge. The first three waves of fools to do so had all died and the peasants who thought their turns were next looked ready to kill. They cast their murderous gazes at the nobles with their weapons in hand. If the nobles forced them to march, they would spell their own demise.

The nobles leading the army weren't idiots, however. All they could do was wait for the troops at the back to arrive. As expected, it didn't take long before the top commander at the rear, Count Krilaus, to send some men ahead to check on the situation. He was already aware of the obstacle they faced and it seemed like they would be camping on the mountain path that night. There wasn't even an empty plot of land on which the troops could rest. Some were worried they would roll in their sleep and fall down the ravine.

When the nobles at the vanguard described their situation, the other nobles at the back were completely dumbfounded. It didn't occur to even a single one of them that there would be such a devastating turn ahead that caused all of them to be stuck there. Numbers wouldn't do them any good. The road was only so wide and sending ten-odd men to charge at the enemy each time was doing nothing but giving the enemy troops free merit.

"Is there no other path around the turn?" Count Krilaus asked, "Can't we scale the mountains to circumvent it?"

As such, the nobles sought out a few herbal farmers and merchants familiar with the area, only to be disappointed. Those who frequently traveled through the area said that there was no other way around the turn. Descending from the path down to the ravine wouldn't work as it was impossible to climb up from below. Climbing up against the mountain wouldn't work either since there was no path up there. There wasn't a route down in the valley either. But there was a stream down in the valley from which fresh water could be procured.
EDIT
An older peddler did point out that some seven kilometres back on the path was a small road that led to Eastern Askilin which could be used to circle around the turn. However, they would still have to cross the three-pronged path near Squirrel Village to go there. It was the best option available to circumvent the narrow turn ahead.

Count Krilaus waved them away. He didn't want to turn back and use the path leading to Eastern Askilin to avoid that turn as he would be completely humiliated and lose all face. He had talked to the nobles of Askilin and agreed to meet up at Squirrel Village before heading to the three southern prefectures.

Both sides believed that they could simply travel through the respective mountain paths near them to go to Squirrel Village. And yet, even though the village was already within sight of the Canasian nobles, they were stuck behind the turn and couldn't cross. If they turned back and took another detour to circle around to the Askilin side, Count Krilaus would be completely embarrassed. His force of four thousand was actually stopped by a small band in the mountains. The Canasian nobles' reputation would forever be besmirched by that incident.

"Is there a way we can rush through that turn ahead and conquer Squirrel Village?" Count Krilaus asked the other nobles with a gloomy expression.

A number of nobles suggested some far-out ideas which were all rejected.

In the end, the noble with rich battle experience stood out. "I believe that even though our enemy has the advantage of terrain, their numbers are their greatest weakness. They only have tens of muskets and one light infantry cannon and are severely lacking in firepower. If we can afford to ignore casualties and press our way through to the camp, the enemy's defeat is inevitable. We have numerical superiority after all and we'd still be able to wipe out the enemy easily even if that means losing ten men for every one we take.

"However, the turn really is far too small and that prevents us from swarming them with soldiers. Sending small numbers there only amounts to suicide. The enemy has more than enough time to load up and shoot our brave warriors. However, I noticed that it is still the day when the enemy can clearly see. I suspect the effectiveness of their cannon and muskets would drop at night. Perhaps we can try launching a night attack. We'll have our troops crawl through the turn before pushing the offense all the way to their camp."

"A night attack? That's it... We can launch a night attack!" Count Krilaus was overjoyed. "Under the cover of night, the enemy's firepower is sure to be affected. We can use our superior numbers to push our way through. As long as we can make our way to the camp, we can wipe them out without breaking a sweat. Baron Kunrona, as expected of someone with a military background. Since you have the experience, we'll do as you say. Everyone, pick out the capable ones from your troops. Let them eat and drink well and prepare them. As long as we can cross this path of a few hundred metres, we'll be able to rush the enemy and engage them in a melee! I believe that no matter the kind of enemy they are, they will fall to our mighty warriors' scimitars!"

The weather during the night was ideal. The silver moon was frequently blocked by the clouds above. The 200-odd warriors had made their preparations. According to the plan, they would crawl past the turn and keep a low profile before switching to a frenzied sprint for the enemy base after hearing the whistle signal. All the warriors understood that the faster they ran and the closer they were to the enemy camp, the safer they would be. So, they armed themselves lightly; most of them brought only one scimitar to fight in close combat with.

They were the first batch of warriors. There was another death squad behind them. They would continue to rush past the turn after the charge began to cover for the brave warriors before them so that they could make their way to the enemy base sooner as well as to draw enemy fire away from the first batch. Even at night, scatter shot was still able to bring the 200-odd warriors great casualties.

The sharp whistle finally sounded and swarms of dark figures jumped on the mountain path and dashed like their lives depended on it.

The enemies in Squirrel Village cried out in shock. The cannon and muskets began to fire. It didn't take long before one figure after another fell to the ground as they cried out in agony. However, the nobles behind continued to wave the weapons in their hand to force the farmers and herders to run to the turn and attract the enemy's attention.

The cannon and every other musket were still trailed in the direction of the turn. It was as if the defenders didn't notice the first batch of 200-odd warriors that dashed ahead, or perhaps they weren't able to react in time.

Two of the frontmost warriors suddenly felt the path beneath them sway. Why was the ground so soft? Before they understood what happened, they lost their footing and fell straight down the path into a deep hole. The warriors who dashed too quickly couldn't react in time and the whole group fell into the whole like a long centipede burrowing its way underground. Only the tens of warriors at the very back managed to stop in time before tumbling down with the others.

The most despairing part about the hole was how it stretched down endlessly all the way to the valley down there. The ones who fell into the hole would roll their way to the bottom of the valley. Cries of pain and fright echoed nonstop.

Nobody would've imagined the defenders of Squirrel Village to be such sadists. Not only did they cut off the mountain path, they even set up such a savage trap that took out more than two hundred of the finest men of the Canasian nobles in a single night. The psychological pain from losing all those men almost made them vomit blood. They had thought that their night attack was a guaranteed success. The reason they doubled down by sending their finest men ahead was the promise of spoils and reward, namely, the famed muskets and equipment of the Aueran military...

Chapter 255 - Armies Gathering

The forces of the Canasian nobles were stuck before the turn for four whole days without making any progress. They had thought their night attack would definitely work. Little did they know, the enemy was prepared for them. They had cut off the mountain path and dug a deep hole in its place into which 200-odd elite warriors fell and ended up down the valley. When the nobles sent someone to seek them out the next morning, they only managed to save near fifty heavily injured survivors.

That wake-up call gave the nobles a reality check. If they wanted to raid and get rich, they would have to cross the turn to reach the three southern prefectures and defeat the enemy at Squirrel Village. It was too bad their efforts for the past four days have been completely useless. They weren't able to approach the camp at the village at all. Apart from incurring another 600-odd casualties, they did nothing but find out that there were more of those hole traps along the mountain path.

There was no way they would be able to fill up the holes. It was one thing that the holes led straight down to the valley beneath and didn't have an underside to hold any rock or earth thrown into it, they didn't have the workers to fill it up even if they wanted to. The moment they peeked out of the turn hauling rocks on their back, the enemy would use them for target practice. One after another would fall to the booming musket shots.

The only time they could take advantage of was the night when the enemy's accuracy was greatly decreased. But the nobles found another problem that would set their plan back. They needed light for work to go on, or they wouldn't be able to see clearly either. But fires would no doubt help guide enemy fire. The fire would allow the enemy as much as them to see in the dark.

The mountain path was already narrow to begin with, especially at the turn. A lot of people was required to transport any wooden boards to the hole to cover it up. However, the enemy attacked them as they transported the wood there, causing the wooden board to fall down to the valley and around ten-odd casualties.

The second time, they tried to transport the board without any light during the night. However, the front few misstepped and fell down the ravine along with the wooden board, much to the ire of the supervising nobles. Most of the hard work they had been up to during the night had gone to waste. But they had no choice. The subjects that were transporting the wooden boards weren't nearly as well-fed as the nobles. It was already fortunate if they could have enough to fill their stomachs. As a result, most of the subjects suffered from some form of night blindness, which made their complete inability to navigate in the night not the least bit surprising.

In the end, Baron Kunrona suggested that they use some wood to make some ladders instead. First, they would have their men crawl through the turn in the dark and lay a light ladder over the hole before covering it up with smaller wooden boards. Even though it wouldn't be nearly as firm as a solid wooden board, it was at least feasible.

Count Krilaus organised another night attack and picked out a hundred elites from his subjects and guard. The other nobles also gathered another hundred. The 200 warriors who could see at night once more launched their assault against the camp. But before they took more than forty steps, the road ahead of them collapsed into yet another hole.

Fortunately, only some thirty men fell into the hole. The last few only did so because they were unable to stop in time. Fortunately, this hole didn't connect to the valley below. It was merely a large and deep hole, or at least, that was what it looked like from above. It actually had countless sharpened wooden stakes within that either killed or heavily maimed those who fell in. Their cries for help and pain mingled together in a ghastly cacophony and the smell of blood wafted throughout.

The silver moon happened to show its face, revealing the true nature of the terrifying trap to the warriors that were just beyond it. The 30-odd men who fell in were pierced through and through by sharp branches and wooden spears. One of them even pierced through three to four corpses like a fish skewer. The poor fellows were still twitching even after they were impaled, trying in a futile attempt to dislodge themselves from the stakes.

The smell of blood got heavier and heavier, but the cries for help slowly subsided. Some of the warriors' minds crumbled at the hellish sight and turned tail and ran, causing the others to follow. The soldiers at the camp fired nonstop at them and only some twenty men survived.

Not another noble brought up attacking during the night. Beyond the turn was a stretch of 300 metres, all enemy turf. Now that they had discovered two traps halfway, who knew how many more awaited them? Braving enemy fire to continue laying ladders over the trap holes would come at a startling cost. At least half of their four thousand troops would have to be paid as toll to reach the camp. The worst part was that they had to continually be shot at without being able to counterattack in the slightest.

In four days, the Canasian nobles lost some eight hundred men, nearly twenty percent of all their forces. If they continued to stack up casualties, the rest of the disorderly peasants would no doubt crumble. They had joined to make themselves rich from the spoils in the three southern prefectures, not to be sacrificed at Squirrel Village.

On one hand, the nobles were trying to suppress their own forces and comfort them to prevent anyone else from deserting. On the other, they placed their hopes on the Askilinian nobles so that they would conquer Squirrel Village soon and bring them out of this predicament. However, the informant they sent returned that night itself and came with the news that the Askilin forces were ambushed by the enemy and suffered heavy casualties. Just like them, they were also held back on the mountain path.

The Askilinian nobles only took around a thousand men with them. They left a day later than Canasians. It was worth noting that most of the thousand were members of the nobles' private forces and armed with muskets and four light-infantry cannons, the one Major Lederfanc provided to Claude. They were pretty well armed.

But unlike the Canasians, the Askilinian nobles strictly adhered to military doctrine and sent out a tent of scouts a kilometre ahead. Per Claude's instructions, Dyavid's unit set up an ambush and wiped out the tent of scouts in its entirety.

By the time the rest of the troupe of the Askilinian nobles arrived, they were greeted with the sight of ten or so scout corpses laid out in the open. The guns and other valuables on them were completely stripped clean. Even the nobles were enraged by it, they knew that the enemy didn't retreat and instead took the initiative to attack them. They raised their guard before they proceeded.

After collecting the corpses, they sent another band to scout ahead at a distance of half a kilometre from the rest of the troupe. Dyavid saw that the enemy had changed their marching strategy, so he made some changes to his ambush layout. He had his men team up in groups of three and camp by the roadsides. They would retreat immediately after firing a volley to not allow the enemy the slightest chance to retaliate.

The guerilla method he employed gave the Askilinian nobles hell. This time around, their enemy no longer targeted scouts exclusively and would strike the main troupe at the rear from time to time. An unfortunate noble who dressed eye-catchingly and rode on his horse dandily was among the first to be shot down. All three muskets aimed at him as they fired. Two of the bullets hit the noble and shot him off his mount, killing him.

The three sneak attackers immediately turned tail and ran. The noble forces shot two volleys at them, but not a single bullet hit. In a fit of anger, they ordered a band to pursue the attackers only to fall into the trap the three attackers led them into. The three tents of men were encircled and almost completely exterminated. Had the nobles not felt that something was odd after hearing the gunshots and sent two more tents to force Dyavid's men to retreat, less than ten men from the band sent earlier would survive.

That night when they stopped to set up camp, the nobles found that they lost nearly eighty men in a single day, yet the enemy only suffered around five casualties. They felt as if they ran into an iron wall. The other nobles learned their lesson after seeing one of them killed that day. The next day, all of them changed into old military uniforms in an attempt to look like their subjects.

Within three days, the nobles only travelled less than forty kilometres along the mountain path. The ethereal ambushers were truly too dastardly. Their sudden and short-lived attacks eventually caused the casualties of the nobles to rack up to around two hundred within three days. Yet, they could do nothing to stop it as their guns were far too inferior to their enemy's. The only way they could counterattack was to get in line to fire a volley, but that in turn required their men to stand as still as targets waiting to be shot at.

The Aubass Mark 3's maximum firing range reached up to 380 metres, with 240 metres being its effective killing range. But to aim properly, one had to be within 100 to 120 metres of the target, otherwise the bullet would drift.

That the nobles using volley fire to retaliate was just as Dyavid predicted, and he made sure to take advantage of it. Each group he sent to mount a sneak attack would be backed up by two other groups nearby. The moment the enemy got in line and prepared to fire a volley, the two backup groups would aim at them and shoot the still targets. As long as they could stabilise their guns properly, they would still hit one out of two times from 200 metres away.

It was a really awkward predicament to be in for the Askilinian nobles. It wasn't that they didn't have any way to deal with the guerillas at all. As long as they could afford to take the losses and send multiple bands to hunt the enemy down and support each other, they would eventually be able to wipe the pesky enemies out.

But not a single one of them proposed that idea. The thousand-odd men remaining were all their households had left. No noble was willing to sacrifice all their men and hoped that someone else would volunteer in their place. Over the three arduous days, they began to hope that the Canasian nobles could capture Squirrel Village so that the enemies that kept sneak attacking them would retreat.

Dyavid's band was also incredibly sapped by the whole ordeal. They laid ambush after another over three whole days nonstop and wore themselves out much faster than the enemy. Fortunately, they were able to effectively slow the enemy's march and gain good results without suffering too many casualties. Only one unlucky soldier was sacrificed, while another eight were injured. He still had three full tents of battle-ready men, so he decided to take a day's break to observe the enemy from afar to allow his men to recover enough energy to continue the guerilla operation.

What he didn't expect was that the enemy stopped moving and remained within the camp they set up the last night. It was the same the next day. He found it to be quite weird, so he sent someone to notify Claude about it in hopes to find out what was going on.

Claude was woken up by Myjack right after he fell asleep. He had been burning the midnight oil over the past few days due to the night attacks and only managed to sneak some sleep in during the day. The Canasian nobles only attacked during the night, save for a few times they tried during daylight. They were all too aware that attacking in broad daylight would only get their men shot down. But after they found the traps that lay ahead of them, they stopped trying so hard during the night as well.

The reason Myjack woke Claude was the retreat of the Canasian nobles. He could see them travel back the way they came from his window. Using his telescope, he saw the farmers and herders dragging themselves along with heavy and sluggish steps.

The soldiers in the camp cheered loudly. The sight of the retreating enemies was a motivating one indeed. Despite the overwhelming numbers, they managed to stop the enemy at the turn and didn't lose even a single man.

After receiving Dyavid's report, Claude wasn't too surprised. Perhaps the Askilinian nobles received word of the retreat and stopped to reconsider their options. If Claude was lucky, the other troupe would choose to retreat as well. He would've successfully defended Squirrel Village if that were the case.

But the next day, Dyavid sent another urgent correspondence to Claude which shocked everyone. The Canasian nobles hadn't retreated. Instead, they made their way to the mountain path the Askilinian nobles travelled on. Their armies had already gathered.

Chapter 256 - Pursuing Soldiers

The howl of a wolf could be heard. Sheila had come to visit once more.

"You guys wait here. Don't follow me. I'll come back in a bit," Claude told Myjack and Gum before heading to the cherry blossom forest ahead.

The girl leapt at him and gave him a kiss. They locked their lips for a tense moment before Claude let go of the blushing girl. "Why are you here? Didn't I tell you not to come for a while? The enemy is here and a large battle will happen soon. I don't want you here now. I'm too worried something will happen to you."

"I know... but I wanted to see you," she said with a pout, "I worry about you too, you know. I saw you get hurt in a dream so I rushed here to see you."

He didn't know how to respond.

"Aren't I standing here, just fine, now? Don't worry, I won't get hurt that easily. I will spend as much time with you as you want after the battle. Don't come again for a while, please. I'll come find you once I'm done with them."

Sheila had visited him four or five times in half a month now. Now, everyone knew Claude had found himself a huntress girlfriend. Dyavid was so impressed he almost prostrated himself in front of Claude in awe. It was a shame she didn't have any sisters.

Sheila glanced at the people working in the hot sun nearby.

"What are you doing?"

Claude smiled bitterly.

"Nothing much, just building a couple fortifications. The enemy have mustered and are preparing march on us along this road. We have to prepare for them. That's why I didn't want you here. This will be a battlefield in a couple days. I'm afraid they'll discover you."

"I'm not afraid of them," she said contemptuously.

Claude shook his head.

"It's not a matter of bravery. I don't want to see you hurt even a little. You're a nature magus and you're in your element in the forest, but firearms have voided much of that. Even a five-ring magus can't do much against massed musketfire. You might be able to take out one or ten men, but you can't take out a hundred. They can deal critical hits well outside your casting range. Even Blackwind wouldn't survive. Don't play tough, don't be too curious, and don't take risks. Just listen to what I have to say, alright?"

"Alright, I promise. In return, you must promise you'll be fine. If push comes to shove, come to my place, okay?" Sheila asked, gazing into his eyes.

Claude nodded solemnly.

"I promise I won't play hero. If I'm really defeated, I'll definitely run to your place."

He meant what he said. What he was doing now was merely his duty. He had no illusions about giving his life for the kingdom like a hero. If he was going to be overwhelmed, he would retreat immediately instead of taking the enemy down with him in exchange for his life. That was a fool's errand. As the saying goes, 'while the green hills last, there'll be wood to burn'. The ancestral proverb did make quite a lot of sense. As long as he still lived, there would always be hope. It wasn't that Major Lederfanc insisted he had to keep Squirrel Village defended no matter the cost anyway.

Now the nobles from two nations had united and were marching for Squirrel Village with a force of four thousand. Dyavid tried once more to attack them only to suffer a slight loss of a tent of forces. It seemed that sneak attacking would no longer work to delay the march of such a large unit. With that, Claude decided to dig more trenches at the rear mountain of Squirrel Village at which to wage battle against the enemy.

After spending a little bit more time with Sheila, he sent the unwilling girl off. He returned to the base and saw Moriad come with his men. "Chief, I'm here."

"How many men did you bring?" Claude asked.

"Three tents. I left one to defend Blackstone Village." Moriad seemed really excited. He was probably a battle maniac. "I can finally fight again. Staying at Blackstone Village for so long is super boring."

"Have your men help with the trench digging first. Dig one that leads to the back which we can use to retreat." Claude didn't wait and put them to work immediately.

"Retreat?--" Moriad eyed the terrain. "--The ground's good here. We can definitely stand our ground here. We have the high ground and the enemy are perfect targets."

Claude shook his head.

"We won't be able to hold. The disparity between our numbers is far too large. We may be able to hold during the day, but the night will be different. The enemy will arrive afternoon tomorrow and we will retreat by the time night comes. Even though the terrain looks fine, there are too many positions where the enemy can flank us. They can simply go to a further hill or slope and attack us from the rear."

Boom! A loud explosion could be heard from behind the mountain.

"What's going on?"

Moriad's eyes darted around alertly.

"Calm down. I had Mazik set up some traps and used gunpowder to destroy some of the mountain paths so that the enemy won't be able to attack us using those routes at night."

Claude sighed heavily. He had too little manpower. Moriad brought three tents here and Mazik had four tents. Dyavid, on the other hand, had two. The 9 tents numbered 108 men, not including the 15 cannoneers. Not including himself, Myjack and Gum, they only had 123 fighting men. currently, the camp was defended by the few signallers, healers and ten or so injured troops. They were really stretched that thin.

If not for the hope he could still win against a pathetic army of peasants, Claude would've run with his subordinates long ago. But now, he still had to try to stop their advance and take advantage of their terrain and firepower superiority to shave away at the enemy's numbers and drag the battle on. His original plan was to cut off the route of the Askilinian nobles, but he didn't think that would cause the two sides to join up instead. His original plans were completely dashed.

Dyavid returned with his men in the evening and told Claude about the losses he suffered from the nobles' troops. After the nobles from the two countries joined up, they rested for one night and resumed their march for Squirrel Village the next day. Dyavid tried his same tactic on them.

What he didn't think would happen was that the Canasian soldiers that stood near the flanks of the ranks chased them down without letting up after they were attacked. Even though they were merely armed with blades and spears, their numbers were too many and they would be swarmed by the peasants after firing a single round of shots. Reloading was pointless as there were more peasants chasing them than they did bullets to shoot them down. A few groups of soldiers were forced to fight the peasants in a melee and perished after taking two or three men with them.

Dyavid had thought about luring the enemy away into a trap, but the ones that pursued numbered a few hundred and came from all directions. The 20-odd men Dyavid brought with him could only fire once and run or be surrounded and done for. He suspected the nobles probably promised them grand rewards. Otherwise, the peasants wouldn't chase them down so desperately without regard for their own lives.

He also came with some bad news: the traps laid on the way lost their usefulness against the enemy. With the Canasian nobles with them, the enemy knew better to test the roads ahead by letting some workhorses walk in front of them. Dyavid said that the two traps they dug over the past few days were discovered easily. The enemy didn't suffer any casualties apart from losing three workhorses. At the rate they were marching, they would reach the camp by noon tomorrow.

Moriad suggested that they attack the enemy camp that night. However, Claude refused to go through with it after giving it some thought. There were too many enemies and the most they could do was to cause some chaos and discord. They wouldn't be able to completely obliterate them. Dyavid had also attacked the enemy during the night a number of times in the past few days, so the enemy would definitely be on guard. Additionally, even if they could return without losing any men from the attack, they would spend the whole night rushing back and the troops wouldn't be able to gain any rest to prepare for the full-scale assault the next day.

Noon the next day, the enemies could be seen slowly trudging along the mountain path. As Dyavid had reported, three workhorses were beckoned to move from behind. There was around a clan's worth of scouts. Apart from forty-odd musket-wielding soldiers, the rest were badly dressed peasants using melee weapons.

Five gunshots resounded in the distance. Moriad and four other soldiers jumped and ran with their guns in hand. The three workhorses of the enemy struggled as they died as the peasants gave chase to Moriad and the rest.

Dyavid smiled bitterly and said to Claude, "Look, just like that. They aren't afraid of dying at all. At least two to three hundred of them give chase each time! We can kill a dozen of them at most, but the rest would continue to chase us to the end of time. The three groups of soldiers I lost were chased just like that to a dead end. We had to watch them beaten to death by the swarm from afar."

The tent of soldiers waiting to meet the rest shot at the peasants from the grass, causing some eight of them to fall. But that only aggravated the rest of the peasants further. About half of them split up and chased down the tent, with the other hundred still on Moriad and the others' tail. There wasn't any opportunity for the soldiers to reload at all. The distance of a hundred plus metres could be closed with tens of seconds easily. Even if that was enough to reload once, only one enemy could be killed and the rest wouldn't stop at that.

The tent of soldiers turned tail and ran as well. Fortunately, Moriad and the rest met with the tent and the two swarms of peasants united back into one, still relentlessly giving chase. Claude now understood why Dyavid complained so much about them when he arrived. Running like that all day was extremely exhausting. But this time around, Moriad was intentionally luring the enemy towards the defences.

"Ready!" Claude said.

The soldiers passed on the order and everyone was ready to fire. One black gunbarrel after another poked through the camouflaging shrubs and took aim at the mob behind.

Moriad jumped into the shrubs immediately and panted nonstop. "I... I can't run anymore!"

"Fire!" Claude ignored him and gave the order. The pursuing troops were only some seventy metres away from the trenches.

Gunshots resounded and smoke wafted up from the line of shrubs along the slope. Nearly sixty of the peasants in front fell face-first into the ground and became the first sacrificial lambs.

The rest were completely stunned. They didn't think there'd be such a large-scale ambush. Gunshots, blood, corpses and the cry of injured melded together in an overload of information that stunned them all.

But not all of them were sent into a stupor. The first one to react cried out, "Quick! Give chase! Don't let them reload!"

There was only around seventy metres to cover. They needed only ten seconds to close it and fight in a melee. That was the plan of the owner of the voice. The stunned peasants snapped out of their daydreams and gripped their weapons tight before rushing up the slope. They still had around 200 of them. What was there to be afraid of? All they had to do was to get into the camp.

Sixty metres, fifty... Claude reloaded his own musket without the slightest haste, as if he didn't notice the savage expressions on the incoming peasants' faces.

"Fire!" Mazik roared.

Boom! A light-infantry cannon hidden in the shrubs fired countless small pellets that covered the battlefield almost entirely.

After the smoke dissipated, a dozen of soldiers couldn't help but puke. The scattershot had wiped out more than a hundred peasants at once. The slope was littered with severed limbs, corpses and flooded with blood. Hellscape was the only word fitting to describe it.

There were only thirty or so peasants surviving, but they were completely shellshocked. The weapons in their hands were nowhere to be seen. They shivered in the midst of corpses as if their souls had left their bodies. The dozen or two peasants behind them that still had their bearings were scrambling down the slope the fastest they could.

Lifting his musket up and taking aim, Claude fired at an escaping peasant and hit his target. He instructed Moriad, "Go capture the ones who are still standing."

"Why? Can't we just kill them all?" The thought of being chased down so haggardly before made him bear a grudge.

"Just do as I say. We need more manpower, you see."

Chapter 257 - Attack and Defence

After receiving word about the peasants being lured into an ambush and wiped out, the nobles of both countries wisely chose to stop their march and set up camp. They received the few peasants that managed to escape and were soon made aware of the situation.

The mountain path from Askilin leading to the three-pronged path beside Squirrel Village was unlike the mountain path from Canas. The latter was built on the halfway height of a mountain itself and led down to a valley. The former on the other hand was sandwiched between a valley, surrounded by hills and mountains from both sides.

Apart from the path that led to the three-pronged path, there were four other locations through the mountains which eventually circled to Squirrel Village. If the paths were labelled A through D, A would be where Moriad began his bait tactic. He led the peasants to location D where Claude had fortified. That slope was the closest one to Squirrel Village.

Currently, the nobles' forces were situated at location A in the forested hills. They had sent a few bands to scout ahead and also located the enemy's base at location D. Many of the nobles began to argue over that revelation.

A number of nobles believed that since the enemy had stationed around a hundred men at location D, Squirrel Village was definitely barely defended. All they had to do was to send a unit to hold off the enemies defending location D and send another unit along the other mountain paths to Squirrel Village. So long as they occupied the village, the enemy's escape route would be sealed off and they would be attacked from both sides. They wouldn't be able to escape even if they wanted to.

Another group of nobles believed that there was no way the Auerans would be so foolish to leave that loophole given how cunning they had shown themselves to be. There were definitely more traps waiting for them to delay their advance along the alternate path to Squirrel Village. Since the enemy had moved most of their defences to the slope, that meant that it was a crucial spot to defend and they couldn't keep the nobles' forces away with just some petty tricks and traps like before. The nobles could still use their numerical superiority to attack the enemy's base at the slope before conquering Squirrel Village.

However, that wasn't without its drawbacks. If they took the alternate detour around the enemy's defences, they would save time and could avoid a head-on clash and decrease casualties suffered. But attacking the enemy's defence line would cost them far more casualties, even though the enemy numbered only a hundred plus. It would also cost them time and much-needed rations and ammunition. It was far from the ideal choice.

In the end, they decided to try using the detour to take Squirrel Village swiftly. This time around, they sent two tribes out, one to head to Squirrel Village using the alternate path and the other to keep the enemy at the slope busy so that they wouldn't be able to return to defend Squirrel Village.

Naturally, the ones taking the alternate path didn't forget to let two workhorses lead the way. It was a shame that when they were not far from location D, a few Aueran soldiers sniped the two workhorses from a distance.

The troops of the nobles were put in a really awkward predicament. The soldiers on the alternate path could turn back tens of metres to reach location D and chase the enemies down. But if they sent their own in pursuit, they would be entering the enemy's firing range and end up losing their lives all the same.

But without their horses, how could they be sure that no traps lay ahead of them? They couldn't have their own men testing the waters, after all. The nobles who received reports about the situation soon came up with an idea. They gathered up all the work-horses in the camp and sorted them into groups of two. After that, they pierced their rear with a blade and let the horses run up the path.

As expected, a fast-running horse was far harder to aim at. Even if shot, the horses could still survive a few more paces. Soon, a loud boom could be heard a large trap appeared on the path. Two of the work-horses fell straight into the hole. Their neighs lasted for but a moment before all quieted down.

Claude had used three large jars of gunpowder to set that trap up. The soldiers spent a whole day digging the place up to set it. Claude could only shake his head with a bitter smile now that the enemy had discovered it. However, it was fine that none of the enemies actually fell for the trap. The main purpose he set those up was to prevent them from advancing in the first place. He just didn't know how many men the nobles were willing to sacrifice to trigger those traps.

The trap was located in the narrow space between two mountains. On the other side was a cliff tens of metres in height which the enemy had no way of climbing up. Claude, on the other hand, was on a small hill around thirty metres in height, and if the enemy wanted to scale it, they would have to go through his defence line first.

The enemy still had the other option to fill up the hole left behind from the explosion. However, Claude had a cannon prepared on the hill. It was part of the spoils obtained in the three southern prefectures which Lederfanc sent Claude -- a light-infantry cannon of Askilin make. It couldn't use scattershot and could only shoot around 300 metres away and could be considered obsolete. However, these cannons were still commonly used by the army of Askilin.

If the path was a little bit wider, Claude would've liked to have another cannon set up there. Initially, he wanted to put his own cannon on the hill, but when it occurred to him that he needed its scattershot capabilities to defend the slope he was on, he recalled the sad excuse of a cannon left within the storehouse. He asked Moriad and a tent of men to set it up at the top of the small hill to prevent the enemy from filling the trap hole up.

The nobles did intend to fill it up, so they had their peasants fell trees and dig up earth immediately. What they didn't think was that the trap was laid out in a spot where the enemy could take aim at from the slope they defended. Not only that, the enemy had perfect cover when they shot. The poor peasants carrying sacks and logs upwards the path were shot down one after another without being able to approach the hole at all.

By the time the nobles had some shield carts constructed to defend against musket shots, the cannon on the small hill began to fire. The path was narrow and only allowed for one shield cart to go up at a time, so the slow pace the peasants travelled at gave the cannons ample time to take aim. The uneven state of the path and the higher placement of the cannon allowed the cannon to easily shoot at the undefended cart pushers at the back. When there weren't enough people remaining, the carts could no longer be pushed up and the muskets began to fire again. If they did somehow manage to get eighty metres within the trap hole, the cannon could just shoot through the carts straight away.

The efforts of the nobles throughout the whole afternoon ended in futility. The angered Askilinian nobles brought out their four light-infantry cannons and prepared to face them off against the one on the hill. While they were of the same design, the one on the hill had high ground and could easily shoot much further.

The nobles had no choice but to let their cannoneers push the cannons forward, believing they would win given they had four times the firepower. They didn't think that moving the cannons forward was exactly what Claude wanted them to do. He ordered the two light-infantry cannons at the camp further up the hill to fire at the nobles' cannons once they were within range and destroyed three of them. The enemy troops that gathered around their cannons to see the spectacle were heavily blasted and hurt as well.

The nobles had incurred more than 200 casualties just in their attempt to fill up the hole and destroy the cannon on the hill alone. During the morning, they already lost up to 500 peasants. Their morale was at an all-time low and there was no way for them to make a killing in the three southern prefectures.

After dinner, the nobles gathered once more and discussed their options. Their only choice now was to attack the enemy defence line on the slope. They all knew that it meant they would have to pay a huge price for it, however. While there weren't many enemy soldiers, their training and equipment far exceeded those of the nobles' own troops'.

While the nobles could boast about how powerful their personal forces were to the peasants, they knew how inept they were compared to proper Aueran soldiers. In terms of muskets alone, they were still using models that their countries had already phased out. They only used them to suppress peasant revolts, after all, not repel foreign invaders.

Additionally, if their private forces were armed with good equipment, the dukes of the two duchies would begin to suspect them. Getting the best equipment also cost money, and given the standards of living in those two duchies, spending too much on their private forces would affect the nobles' own quality of life. They wouldn't be able to enjoy the luxuries they did, given how poor their dominions were. There was only so much taxing their subjects could get them, and they weren't that willing to spend unnecessarily in the military aspect either.

Regardless, the nobles still had most of their household forces intact. Most of the casualties lately had been their drafted peasants who weren't the bulk of their power. The nobles still had enough capability to raid the three prefectures. But in their discussion on attacking the defence line, not a single noble brought up sending their own troops in. They turned their sights on the peasants the Canasian nobles brought with them instead.

The Canasian nobles couldn't readily oblige either. Even though they had a force of four thousand, a whole line of troops, less than a thousand were properly trained soldiers. The rest were untrained, conscripted peasants. When they were stuck at the turn for four days, they lost up to 800 of them, and when they took the path from Askilin and offered a high bounty for every Aueran soldier killed, they lost near a hundred of them in exchange for killing around ten enemy soldiers.

And just today, they lost another 500 plus from the trap. In total, they had lost up to 1300 men, more than a third of their forces, and the remaining 2000-odd men who could still fight were already dispirited and thought that the nobles only wanted to use them as cannon fodder. It wouldn't be out of the question for the peasants to rise up if they were forced to attack the heavily defended enemy line.

Some nobles suggested a night attack, but the other nobles pointed to the bonfires laid across the slope of the hill which could burn for the whole night. All movement on the slope and the mountain path could be seen clearly and the time of day wouldn't make a difference. Even if they wanted to send people to put the fires out, someone would still have to risk being shot. The fires were within the firing range of the enemy, after all, and that would only serve to alert the enemy of their intentions.

After a long back-and-forth, the nobles of the two duchies finally agreed to let their men and subjects rest for the night and mount an attack on the defence line the next morning. They would select their personal troops from each household to form two clans along with another thousand peasants to try to take the defence line with their numbers.

The night was a peaceful one. The moment Claude saw the enemies marching his way spiritedly the next morning, he knew that a bloody battle couldn't be avoided. When they were around five hundred metres away, Claude ordered his cannons to fire round shots. However, the enemy troops weren't in any arranged formation. Instead, they charged like maniacs towards the defence line with melee weapons in hand after the cannonballs struck.

"Muskets, fire at will when they're within 200 metres! Cannons, change to scattershot immediately! Don't fire unless they're within 50 metres of us!" Claude coldly ordered.

That morning, the nobles launched three attacks on Claude's defence line, but were beaten back every time. Twice did tens of frenzied soldiers make it to the defence line, but they were soon finished off by the defenders' bayonets. The attackers lost nearly half their men and their corpses lined the hills. Blood and mud mixed into a nose-curling sludge that stained the feet of any who dared tread on it.

Chapter 258 - Cannon Bombardment

"We've got to retreat now," Claude said to the officers beside him.

"Can't we continue to defend this place a few more days?" Mazik looked rather apologetic. It was his mistake that morning that allowed the tens of enemies to even reach their defence line. He hadn't grasped the firing tempo of the two cannons properly as he was too nervous and let them both fire scattershot at the same time, giving the enemies at the rear a chance to push forward. The fastest a cannon could be reloaded was two minutes and that small window was time enough for the enemy to rush to the line and engage the defenders in a melee. That cost them around twenty casualties.

Currently, Claude only had around eighty men still capable of fighting as well as the members of the three cannoneer squads, himself, and Gum and Myjack. They totalled up to around a hundred. While the nobles of the two duchies suffered heavy casualties for their attacks during the morning, they had around three thousand men remaining. If they continued attacking during the afternoon, Claude couldn't be certain their defence line wouldn't be overwhelmed. The disparity was still overwhelming.

Additionally, the soldiers would be worn out from defending the line the whole day. Fortunately, the ones who were sent to charge at the line were mostly conscripted peasants instead of trained veterans. Mazik's reloaded cannons managed to cut off any other reinforcement from the rear, giving Claude and the rest the time to exterminate the enemies who had made it to their line.

Claude shook his head. "Let's see whether the enemy will launch another attack during the afternoon like they did in the morning. Our goal here is not to stop the enemy from advancing at all costs. We're only taking advantage of the terrain while we can to shave away at their numbers. If the enemy presses their attack, we will have to conserve our strength and avoid all casualties wherever possible. If we can't hold them off, we must retreat. There's no sense in meeting them in battle head on."

While Claude could only see how terrifying the numbers of the enemy was, he wasn't aware that the casualties suffered during the first three attacks had greatly shocked the nobles. Of 1500 men who were involved in those three attacks, only around six hundred managed to return, all terrified and broken. The defenders of the line were uniformed soldiers armed with muskets. The threat of force from the nobles was no longer able to get the peasants to act after they returned.

Having no other choice, the nobles returned to camp and no longer attacked during the afternoon. Instead, they congregated in the main tent and discussed once more their predicament. Some of them had brought up giving up and returning home. But that suggestion was soon abandoned, as the enemy numbered less than two hundred while they had more than three thousand men left. If they really retreated, they would be utterly humiliated. The dukes of both duchies might use that as an excuse to strip them of their titles and fiefs.

That was the bottom line the nobles weren't willing to give up on no matter what. They resolved to wipe out the enemies in Squirrel Village regardless of the casualties they would incur. Once more they selected more men from their personal guards and formed three clans totalling 700 men and threw in the peasants for good measure. Their final attack force was a unit that numbered up to 1200 men, with the professional soldiers leading the peasants.

To minimise casualties, the nobles decided not to attack during the afternoon and let their troops rest before the scheduled attack during the night. They also decided to send out another clan of soldiers from their personal guards to lead another clan of peasants to the slope at location A after dinner to overwhelm the enemy by attacking on two fronts. They wanted to exploit their numerical advantage the best they could to wipe out the enemy in one fell swoop.

"Chief, we snuck to the enemy's camp and saw that it was heavily guarded. Using the telescope, I saw the enemy resting in camp. Many of them are asleep and few moved about," Moriad reported after he returned with a few others from scouting, and perhaps dealing a sneak attack had they had the opportunity.

Claude stroked his chin. "It seems like they won't be attacking during the afternoon then. I bet they want to mount a night attack given how they're resting now. Since that's the case, let's go there and cause trouble to interrupt their sleep. We'll make sure they get up frequently to take a piss in the middle of their slumber. Mazik, get one tent of men to move the two light-infantry cannons a kilometre ahead. Fire at the enemy camp once you reach the maximum firing range to disturb their sleep.

"If the enemy mobilises all their men to attack, retreat with the two infantry cannons immediately. We'll deal out suppression fire as we retreat. The moment they are within two hundred metres, dump scattershot on them before retreating further. If the enemy attacks in smaller units, continue firing at their camp and let us take care of the pursuing troops, understood?"

It was a risky act. The nobles were camping right opposite location A and were roughly 1.5 kilometres away from location D where Claude and the rest were. Light infantry cannons could fire 700 metres away at most, but their proper effective range was around 600 metres. Claude wanted the cannons to be brought a kilometre towards the enemy camp to cause panic in their ranks and prevent them from resting. Extermination wasn't the goal as there was only so much damage round shots could do. There was also the risk of being unable to safely escape the enemy's full-force counterattack with two infantry cannons.

Moriad led a tent of soldiers to attack the guards of the enemy camp first to see if he could lead some of them out. But as Claude had predicted, the nobles that had suffered heavy losses during the three prior attacks were in no mood to pick that bone with Claude and send a whole mob to retaliate. After losing a few guards, the enemy began to hide behind the wooden log fence of the camp and refused to exit no matter what. There were only a few people attacking them anyway and the enemy wouldn't dare to enter their camp for an attack. They endured it and resolved themselves to pay the Auerans back during the night instead.

Little did they know that an hour later, thunderous booms of cannons firing could be heard. Two fist-sized metal balls smashed into the camp and managed to kill one soldier and wound two other peasants. The fresh blood and the cries of the injured caused great distress in the others within the camp. Many of the peasants were panicking and losing their senses. They screamed and ran around randomly and pushed down everything, or every person, in their way.

The cannonballs dropped into the camp in twos. A few nobles took the risk and peeked out and were so enraged that they almost spat out fresh blood. The enemy had actually moved their cannons to some 600 metres away from their camp and started firing. It was ridiculous! They didn't take the nobles and their army seriously at all! There was no need for a discussion. The nobles ordered their own private soldiers to march out of the camp in an attempt to take their cannons.

The 300 or so soldiers charged out of their camp directly towards the cannons. When the enemy noticed that, they stopped firing immediately and had their workhorses drag their cannons back as they retreated.

The nobles cheered for the soldiers they sent out. The cannons were around a kilometre from the defence line and even with workhorses dragging them back, it would take some time. If their soldiers could run fast enough, they would be able to catch up in ten short minutes and take over the Aueran-made light-infantry field cannons. With those in hand, they wouldn't have to worry about paying that huge a cost to overwhelm the enemy.

When the troops were 200 metres away from their camp, the nobles saw that they were suddenly attacked by musket fire. A tent of men hiding in the bushes shot at the private soldiers and caused five to six unfortunate ones to fall to the ground.

"Ignore them! Continue chasing the cannons!" cried the nobles when they saw their men hesitate. They didn't know whether they should chase down the tent of attackers or not, but their masters ordered them to ignore them. The attackers were only trying to delay the soldiers to let their cannons retreat. If the soldiers turned back, they would've fallen for the enemy's plan.

There were some among the private soldiers who could see what their masters in the camp wanted and called their comrades to continue chasing and ignore the hidden attackers on their flank. But soon, the enemies at their flank reloaded and fired once more at the private soldiers, striking down another eight or so of them.

The nobles in the camp hurriedly sent out a hundred more private soldiers to take care of the tent of attackers. At the very least, they wanted to see them chased far away so that they wouldn't be able to take advantage of the group that didn't stop to attack them. The nobles only retained control over their personal forces as the peasants were still in a state of panic. Had it not been for the wooden fence surrounding the camp, they would've all run off somewhere.

Another tent of soldiers appeared and fired at the nobles' men from the back, causing another seven to eight casualties. The one leading the men ordered his subordinates to ignore the attackers and continue to run for the two cannons. The nobles within the camp gathered yet another hundred soldiers and sent them to chase after the other tent of enemy soldiers.

As they closed their distance with the cannons, the defence line was within sight of the pursuing soldiers of the nobles. When they were within 200 metres, the horses stopped and the enemy started loading gunpowder into the cannon barrels.

"This is bad! The enemy is trying to destroy the cannons! Run quick! Stop them!" cried a sharp-eyed soldier. If too much gunpowder was loaded into the cannon barrel and a wooden cork was stuffed into it to stop it, the cannon could be destroyed by firing it towards the ground. That was something every trained cannoneer knew how to do. It was the simplest method to weld and seal the opening of the barrel completely. However, it required iron nails and the Auerans didn't appear to have any.

Nevertheless, the pursuing soldiers failed to notice it, and thus neglected to see that the cannon barrels were aimed at them. Currently, the Aueran cannoneers put up an exaggerated act of panic. Only the two cannoneers that poured gunpowder into the barrels wore a look of tranquillity. In fact, they were smiling. The gunpowder kegs in their hands were actually empty.

Seeing that the nobles' soldiers were less than a hundred metres away, the cannoneers tossed their gunpowder kegs away and pretended to panic. "Run! The enemy is upon us!"

The cannons are ours! Smiles lit on the faces of the pursuing soldiers. The only thing on their minds was capturing the two cannons and be rewarded by the nobles. Every one of them scrambled towards the cannons and even forgot that they were holding their muskets in hand.

"Fire!" That cry startled the frontmost soldiers out of their frenzy. All they saw was a flash inside the barrels of the two cannons, followed by countless black pellets bursting out of the two holes. Then, multiple spots on their bodies burned and the sound of liquid dripping on the ground could be heard. Those were their last sensations before their consciousness faded to black.

All 134 soldiers of the nobles' private armies were completely wiped out by the two scattershot barrages. The remaining 70-odd soldiers at the rear were completely dumbfounded. They hadn't imagined that the cannons were loaded with scattershot. They had run all that way and fell for the enemy's bait.

Before they snapped out of it, fifty-odd gun-wielding enemies popped up near the cannons and fired. The soldiers that survived the cannon barrage were shot down one after another in a cloud of white smoke the guns emanated.

The nobles in the camp watched as their 300-odd private soldiers were completely wiped out. By then, the cannons had finished loading more scattershot and the Auerans checked on their fallen enemies to see if they were truly dead. Anyone who was found still breathing was given a stab with bayonets to be put out of their misery before they were looted.

The two tents of Aueran sneak attackers being pursued by the 100-odd pursuing noble soldiers ran through the forest in a huge circle and made their way to the two loaded cannons. The remaining soldiers of the nobles saw the ready-to-fire cannons and the other enemies armed with muskets and wisely chose to return to camp instead of charging towards the enemy in a hot-blooded impulse.

Chapter 259 - The Camp as Tough as a Fortress

The nobles of both duchies were incredibly troubled and frustrated. They had already lost up to 900 men during the attacks in the morning and were baited in by the two cannons during the afternoon and lost another 300 plus, who weren't normal peasants but the trained soldiers of the noble houses. One noble who sent all two tents of his private soldiers to run for the cannons watched as they were wiped out completely and spat blood from anger before fainting.

The most infuriating part was that the cannon bombardment on their camp caused less than ten casualties, but the chaos that ensued lasted all the way till evening. Had a few panicked peasants not been killed and made an example of, the commotion might've gone on even longer.

The furious nobles swore that if they could ever get their hands on the dastardly enemy, they'd definitely resort to the most horrible method of torture available to them to vent their hate. They had planned to mount an attack that night, but it seemed that they could no longer count on the peasants' assistance. The nobles had a fierce debate about whether to continue the attack as planned.

In the end, hate took the upper hand and the nobles resolved themselves to use all their private soldiers to pay back the enemy for their bombardment and trap that afternoon. They believed that the enemy would let their guard down, given that they had managed to gain such a huge edge and cause chaos within their camp. There's no way they would expect the nobles to attack after suffering those humongous setbacks. Given that they would be sending all their trained elites, the Aueran troops probably wouldn't be able to react quickly enough to an onslaught. Their attack would definitely be a success and the enemy would be wiped out completely.

After impatiently waiting until midnight, they got good news from the front. The troops they sent to attack managed to successfully take the enemy defense line. However, it was completely empty. The enemy had retreated before they knew it. Instead, the nobles' troops fell for a number of traps laid by the enemy that cost them another hundred-odd casualties.

Hole traps alone weren't a huge problem and would only harm a person or two. The issue was that the enemy had stakes and blades embedded within their trenches. Most of them were the weapons of the peasants they conscripted that were all gathered up and hidden in the trenches before they retreated. Above the blades, they placed a few scarecrows which looked like soldiers from afar. The first few soldiers at the front charged into the trenches without hesitating and prepared themselves to fight in close combat with the enemy, only to fall for the enemy's cunning. The soldiers behind who heard their comrades' cries thought they were being overwhelmed and charged in to help and ended up suffering quite a bit of casualties.

The nobles almost fainted from the news. In fact, one wouldn't be surprised to find them anemic after the proverbial blood they lost from the angered belching and coughing. Not only did their full force strike miss hitting anything, they even sprained their ankle in the process. The enemy was cunning to the utmost and managed to hurt more than a hundred of their men with an unmanned defence line. Most of the soldiers had hurt their calves, thighs or feet and couldn't walk. Even more men had to be sent there to rescue the injured.

"Where have the enemy soldiers gone?" one noble asked.

The soldier that returned with the report hesitantly replied, "They should be at Squirrel Village. After occupying the defence line, we wanted to head to Squirrel Village. But the tent of men we sent there were repelled."

"Why didn't you continue pressing on?!" roared a noble whose nostrils widened so much they seemed to flare, "Since you know the enemy's in Squirrel Village, charge in and annihilate them! How many enemies are there? We have so many men among us! Just go and kill them all!"

The poor soldier didn't know how he should respond. He couldn't just say that everyone was terrified that the enemy might've set even more traps in the village itself. Rushing in might be playing right into their hands and the soldiers were the ones who had to suffer the consequences. The nobles only ordered them to take the defence line at the slope, after all. No explicit order to attack Squirrel Village was given.

By then, the lord of Squirrel Village, Baron Frinslan, stood up to speak for the soldier. He told the other nobles that while Squirrel Village was poor, it had a good wall of stone and a wooden fence made with wooden logs and stones for defence against wild beasts. If the soldiers had charged for the village, they would've fallen for the enemy's trap and suffer unnecessary casualties. It would be best to set up camp at the slope and take a good look at the village from the higher vantage point the slope afforded to get a clear view of what the enemy was planning.

The nobles supported Baron Frinslan's suggestion and instructed their troops to defend the slope for the night.

The next day, the nobles woke up after a long slumber. After washing up and having breakfast their servants made, they congregated at the tent as they expressed how harsh travelling with their armies was. When everyone was there, they rode the palanquins their servants carried to the defence line at the slope.

The soldiers who had suffered the cold breeze during the night shivered as they got into line to welcome their lords. As nobody had been instructed to send food to them, the soldiers at the defence line had starved the whole night and a good part of the morning. The nobles however understood their needs and considerately ordered their servants to prepare a meal and some clean water for the troops.

Baron Frinslan turned out to be right. Squirrel Village below them was in clear view. Even though it was only a small place with less than a hundred households, the area of the village wasn't small. It was more or less the size of the nobles' camp. The buildings in it, however, were decrepit and rural. They looked like huts and shacks stacked up with rotten wood and roofed with thick straw. The only pleasant thing about the village was how it had quite a lot of empty and flat plots of land. The villagers used them to dry out the goods they collected from the mountains.

There was indeed a wall made from stone and a wooden log fence to repel beasts, especially during winter when they would turn to the village due to the lack of food. They even had a trench outside the fence.

Perhaps the beasts had ceased to trouble them for quite a long while, the villagers no longer cared much for the wall. It was in a state of disrepair and quite a number of locations had crumbled. The openings were covered in vines and mould. The wooden fence was the same. Some of the logs had been corroded by insects, revealing quite a lot of rotting weak points. The trench outside the fence also had shrubs growing within it.

The slope near the village was covered in farmland. There was around 13 hectares of farmland there, but it was mostly empty. The winter harvests had concluded and the stalks of the harvested plants were all that was left, along with a lot of stacked up dried wood to be used as fuel.

The baron was feeling rather frustrated. Had Aueras not invaded and attacked the three southern prefectures, he would've been able to collect the winter wheat. Even though it wasn't that expensive, it was still better than allowing the lowly peasants have all of what he owned by right. Even if their side won the war and he managed to take control of the village once more, the villagers would no longer be as easy to tame. They might even hide their harvests from him instead of paying their rightful tribute to their lord.

Not a single soul could be spotted in Squirrel Village. The villagers had probably been evacuated to somewhere else after word of the nobles' attack was spread.

"Look, there's the enemy!" a noble cried as he pointed at the northwestern corner of the village.

Baron Frinslan looked over there with his telescope. It was a tool all nobles had. They used it mainly for hunting or matters of war. Squirrel Village was within the baron's fief and he was extremely familiar with the terrain. The northwestern part of the village was the baron's lodging he used during his hunts. Every year, the villagers would send all sorts of goods into his stone warehouse, which he would then sell to large merchant companies once he gathered enough stock. It was a huge source of income for him, but alas, he wouldn't be able to get any this year.

The sight he saw through the telescope was completely different from the one he remembered. There used to only be a two-storeyed wooden building and a stone warehouse with a wooden fence surrounding it 50 metres away. But now, there was another long row of log houses built next to the stone warehouse down the cliff of the small hill. Behind the wooden fence was another row of large wooden sheds.

The wooden fence between the village and the lodging spot was separated by around 150 metres. That was a spot the baron had intentionally left out for his servants to herd his horses. He had even gotten his servants to take apart a few of the villagers' houses there and flatten the land so that his beloved horses would have a place to loiter around and graze.

Baron Frinslan had that kind of right given that he was the lord. He felt much more delighted whenever he woke up in the morning during his hunting trips to the sight of his beloved horses rather than the sight of the old houses of the villagers anyway.

However, that nice pasture had been ruined by the enemy's band. They built another wooden fence that encroached 60 metres into the pasture and dug a two-metre-wide trench outside of it. They didn't waste the earth they dug up and put them into vine sacks and stacked them up into large dirt piles they stacked up against the wooden fence.

While the wall less than 70 metres in length was only three metres in height, there was a drawbridge that stretched over the moat. Rain shelters had been installed on the old fence to cover the two log cannon platforms it supported. One of the cannons was mounted near a small rocky hill beside the fence and the other was mounted near a steep slope. The whole place had been converted into a seemingly impregnable fortress.

The enemies were obviously hiding within their little stronghold. The baron could see with his telescopes the outstretched musket barrels behind the dirt and wooden wall. Oddly, not many people walked about in the camp. Yet, the camp still gave off a menacing aura.

"Is... is there a water source in there?" a noble mumbled.

Baron Frinslan smiled bitterly. "There is a spring near the rocky mountain nearby that supplies water all-year-round."

The baron wouldn't have built his lodging there had it not been for the spring.

"T-then... can we circle around the rocky hill and scale it?" another noble asked.

"It's impossible. The other side of that hill his a 60-metre-tall cliff. It's only possible to ascend the hill from the front. While the hill is steep, it's possible to get all the way up to the peak." However, his words were for naught. To ascend the hill in the first place, they would have to go through the stronghold's entrance.

The nobles were aware that the only method to take the stronghold, given that they couldn't cut off the enemy's water source, was to encircle them for a long time. Only after the enemy ran out of food could they be forced into surrendering. The alternative was to continuously besiege the place to drain the enemy's strength and slowly break them down.

The first method had the advantage of reducing their casualties, but it required lots of logistics and supply support. The cost wasn't something those nobles could bear. They had gathered about five thousand men initially to raid the three southern prefectures and spent most of their funds on enough supplies to sustain their troops up to half a month. They were counting on the resources they could get in the three southern prefectures to sustain them the rest of the way.

They didn't expect that they would be held back so badly and lose so many men to a small enemy force that numbered less than two hundred. In a few short days, the nobles had lost nearly half their men. But the loss did stretch out their supply budget much longer. They had enough to last their men for a whole month.

However, the enemy numbered even fewer. They could last much longer within their stronghold, so the first method wasn't employable. The only other way was to constantly mount small attacks on the enemy. That would cost a lot of their men, but the nobles themselves didn't have to join the fray. As long as that was the case, they could accept any kind of casualty, even if it meant losing some more of their private soldiers.

Chapter 260 - Strategy

After returning to their camp, the nobles prepared to make merry. They had met with a chain of failures, but they forced the enemy that had been guarding the village back into their base. It was something to celebrate. The enemy had retreated into their little stronghold, but it was still better than to let them roam about freely and kill more and more men.

Like rats fallen into a jar with cheese, though they could enjoy the cheese, they could not climb out. The nobles would show them their demise. They were so glad they could finally get a good night's sleep without worrying about harassment. As long as the nobles defended the village, the enemy couldn't leave. Most laughable was that the enemy had trapped themselves inside like rats in a jar.

After their short celebration, they began discussing how they would attack the stronghold.

Baron Kunrona used white bread to represent the enemy's mud and wood wall as he introduced his grand plan.

"Gentlemen, I have noticed a weakness in the enemy's wall. It is a straight line. In other words, the enemy can only defend against troops coming directly from the front. They can't fire at our men from the flanks. This will greatly decrease our casualties."

A few nobles familiar with the way of battle nodded in agreement. Perhaps because the wall was only seventy metres long, the enemy couldn't curve it to create a flanked killzone. Or they were constrained by time or lack of manpower and could only settle for the simplest design. Nevertheless, it was not the nobles' business. All they cared about was taking the stronghold.

Baron Kunrona continued.

"We suffered heavy losses and can't compare to the enemy in training or equipment, but our greatest advantage is our numbers. We have confirmed the enemy only have a hundred men. They gave up on their forward fortifications because they can't man them properly. Even if they could trade one man for ten, it would still not be enough.

"Currently, we still outnumber them more than twenty to one. So, I am confident that we will be able to take their main camp. We need only concern ourselves with now minimising casualties and getting it done as quickly and efficiently as possible. I am of the opinion we should send out all the peasants to fell trees tomorrow and gather them at the village to make shield carts, ladders and other equipment we need for the siege."

"Are we certain we want to make those things?" another noble asked, "They have two Aueran light-infantry cannons installed on their walls. I recall that they can fire seven hundred metres away. If we gather at the village, the enemy might be able to shoot at us and cause unnecessary damage."

"That's no cause for concern--" The baron smiled and puffed his chest out confidently. "--I've considered that when I was observing the village from the slope this afternoon. They retreated in desperation. Given their numbers, they could not have defended the village.

"The village is the ideal spot for us to launch our attack from, mainly because it's close to the enemy camp and because the land stretching from the village to the walls of the enemy camp is all flat land. We can move our machinery across the battlefield to the bottom of the walls with little issue and conserve our troops' energy at the same time.

"Granted, the enemy cannons' firing range does cover the entire village. But there's one thing I'm not sure whether you understand. If we only occupy the rear half of the area of the village, the enemy will definitely lose the ability to use their muskets and cannons on us. In fact, they won't even be able to shoot at us even if they want to."

"Why?" asked a noble unfamiliar with military affairs.

His question earned him a glance of praise from Baron Kunrona.

"It's simple. The enemy's equipped with the famous Aueran light-infantry cannon. Our duchy had done some tests and I received the test results from a contact in the military." While the baron boasted about his connections, the results of such tests weren't actually kept secret either. As part of the Alliance against Aueras, the Askilinian troops, including the nobles, had to have a grasp on Aueran weaponry and their capabilities to be able to plan better on the battlefield.

"These cannons are mainly used by their infantry as support. They are lighter and can be moved around the battlefield easily. While they can shoot as far as 700 metres, they can only do real damage within 300 metres. For example, those cannons can only pierce shield carts 300 metres away. If it's any further, it would take a few shots hitting the exact same spot to do any real damage.

"After our duchy's military tested the cannons out, they believe that their greatest strength lay in their scattershot. Within a hundred metres, any soldier without cover will be badly injured by the shots. We already witnessed that first-hand yesterday when we were lured out by their bombardment only to be decimated by scattershot up close."

His words triggered some unpleasant recollections in the nobles. They lost nearly 1200 men within a single day, a complete defeat. Quite a few nobles began cursing the enemy for all the losses they suffered.

"There are two reasons I suggested building our gear in the village. The first is how close the enemy is to us and how easy it is to traverse flat land. It makes it easier for us to attack and the houses within Squirrel Village provide us with cover. Even though they're shoddy, as long as they're in the half of the village away from the enemy camp, the enemy cannons won't be able to do us much harm. We can build our shield carts there and use them to build up even more cover for ourselves. When we have enough, we can push forward slightly to make more room.

"The other reason is that the shield carts will attract the shots from the enemy cannons. The more they shoot, the faster they go through their gunpowder reserves. I want to know whether they can destroy our shield carts as quickly as we can build them. By the time they almost run out, we can mount our attack and easily take over their camp without suffering too many casualties."

Kunrona gleefully finished presenting his reasoning and won the praise and agreement of many nobles. It was the only plan that seemed to be effective.

"But what if they don't shoot at our shield carts?"

There were people who couldn't stomach others gaining more attention they did, even among nobles. Someone tried to cast doubt almost right away.

"Hahaha..." The baron laughed. "Either way, the enemy will be stomped by my plan. If they don't destroy the shield carts, by the time we attack, we can use them to block the enemy's scattershot. They wouldn't be able to cause us any harm that way. I'm sure you all have seen the defensive wall around the enemy's camp during the afternoon. They even have roofs built on the walls themselves to keep out the rain. Those roofs will also render the volley fire of our men behind the shield carts ineffective.

"Even though our troops are armed with guns inferior to the enemy's in terms of aiming and distance, the guns our men use aren't just flaming sticks. Our men will still pose a real threat if allowed to line up and fire from behind the shield carts. That is why the far-seeing enemy built those roof covers in advance. He's someone who has good experience fighting defensively, so there's no way he wouldn't know the threat our shield carts pose. They will definitely want to destroy them.

"I also noticed there is a lot of dried firewood and wheat stalks. We can use them in our attack. All we have to do is to push the shield carts all the way to the enemy walls and set some fuel alight before dousing the fires with water to create smoke to obscure their vision. Our casualties will further decrease that way."

Almost all the nobles stood up and applauded Kunrona's words. His detailed plan convinced the rest that the enemy camp wasn't that hard to attack. They quickly began to think of even more methods to decrease their casualties.

"Perhaps we can split our forces into two units, one to use the mountain path and fill up the traps they dug there. After that, we can attack their camp from the path to stretch the enemy forces thin. That would make our attack from the village much easier," one noble suggested.

But after much discussion, they decided to put aside that suggestion. Even if they managed to fill up the trap hole in the path, who knew how many others there were waiting for them? While losing one workhorse to find a trap was a small price to pay, it was a little too expensive now that the nobles already had a workable plan to attack the camp. They were no longer as willing to use the horses to trigger traps.

"What if the enemy launches a sudden attack on us while we are building the shield carts?" asked another noble.

This time around, Baron Kunrona didn't need to step out. A noble quickly said, "Our forces aren't just for show. The baron's plan is for us to occupy the parts of the village 300 metres away from the camp. That doesn't mean we can't station some of our elite troops in the buildings that are closer to the camp. While their guns aren't as good as the enemy's, they can still kill if the enemy gets close enough.

"The mistake our soldiers made yesterday was they wanted to capture the enemy cannons far too bad. They completely forgot that they were armed. If they had fired a volley a hundred metres away before continuing their advance, a few cannoneers would've been killed and they might have avoided the fate of being obliterated by scattershot."

It was precisely that foolish mistake that infuriated the nobles so much.

After a long discussion through the night, they finally settled on Baron Kunrona's plan. They would send their peasants to fell trees the next day and bring them into Squirrel Village to be made into shield carts. As for the nobles' private soldiers, a clan of them were left to defend their base. The rest were split into two groups, one to supervise the peasants while they worked and the other to be stationed in the village to repel a surprise attack from the enemy.

During the next two days, Squirrel Village was abuzz with activity. One tree after another was fell and transported into it. Had the cherry blossom trees at the rear mountain not been so big, they would've been felled just like the smaller trees.

Shield carts were easy to make. Six to seven trees with the diametre as wide as a rice bowl's had to be fell and de-branched before being lined up together. Next, they only had to add the shield and wheels on one side. They were made for one use only, so no special techniques had to be employed. The peasants familiar with woodwork quickly made more than ten shield carts within the first day and stood them up in the village to be used as cover.

The enemy did begin firing at the shield carts. But after finding that it was pointless after a few shots, they stopped shooting. The next day, near fifty new shield carts were constructed in the village and they were moved a hundred metres closer to the Aueran camp. The enemies fired once more and stopped after destroying only five or six of them.

By the time the third day came, the whole village was almost filled to the brim with shield carts. The frontmost carts were as close as a hundred metres from the enemy camp. This time around, the cannons fired more insistently and only stopped after thirty minutes. But only around thirty of the carts were destroyed, all of which were soon replaced with new ones.

"We launch our attack tomorrow morning!" The nobles gladly obeyed that order and treated their soldiers and peasants to a grand meal. They had worked hard over the past few days and were allowed to rest well in anticipation of the attack on the enemy camp the next day.

The enemy seemed to not have given up on destroying the shield carts. They continued firing every half an hour, not that the nobles or peasants minded. One row of carts being destroyed was no big deal. They could easily replace them the next day. Instead, they were rather eager to have the enemy waste more gunpowder on the carts. The nobles made sure to instruct their troops to be on extra care during their watch in case the enemy grew desperate and mounted an offensive instead.

During midnight within the camp, Claude looked at the three light infantry cannons. "Are the preparations ready?"

There was a brazier next to them with a few metal round shots heated up to burning red.

Moriad said, "Don't worry, boss. We're lucky it hasn't rained for the past few days. I noticed that the enemy didn't realise we've scattered oil all over the straw roofs of the buildings in the village, as well as the firewood and gunpowder within the trenches. They didn't even notice the oil on the village's wooden fence."

"Good. Mazik, fire away. We'll give them a nice smoking," Claude casually instructed.

Chapter 261 - Splendid Victory

"How?!" Major Lederfanc jumped in his chair. The letter he held was sent by Claude through carrier pigeon. The report stated they had eliminated more than four thousand enemies and only a few hundred of the invading forces of the Askilin and Canas managed to escape. They also captured six landed nobles, more than 200 captives and countless spoils while losing around eight soldiers and having nineteen injured.

Anyone would find the report hard to believe, especially Major Lederfanc. He knew Claude only had less than three bands and three cannoneer squads. They totalled less than 170 people. While the nobles' forces weren't that strong, even an elephant could be killed by too many ants. The enemy had a line and a tribe of troops, around five thousand in total, whereas Claude only had less than 170. Major Lederfanc only hoped the enemy could be held back at Squirrel Village for a time so the nobles' forces would retreat after they ran out of food and supplies. It was an ideal result.

The major was counting down the days anxiously, but it didn't take more than ten for Claude to report he had wiped out more than four thousand and captured two hundred. It was incredible. Were the five thousand nobles' troops nothing but mindless cattle? Even then, Claude couldn't kill more than 400 animals each day so easily!

After calming down, Lederfanc read the report through properly once more. Fortunately, while carrier pigeon deliveries had to be succinct and clear, Claude did briefly describe how he achieved his feat. He had baited the enemy into Squirrel Village, in which he had left lots of easily flammable materials beforehand. All he did later was set the whole place alight.

The major instructed the scribe and strategist of the tribe to send the officer in charge of the enforcer tent to travel with his band to Squirrel Village post haste. Such a feat had to be witnessed and officiated. He believed the top brass would be utterly shocked upon receiving the report and use it to greatly boost the morale of the kingdom's frontline troops. And as Claude's direct superior, Lederfanc would no doubt get a taste of the sweet merit the top doled out.

Claude felt queasy. In fact, he wasn't alone in feeling so. The other soldiers' faces were pale and some vomited so badly they could badly walk. Mazik, on the other hand, swore off smoked and roasted food for good. There was an almost appetising scent of roasted meat wafting above the camp, making anyone exposed to it crave for food. But the soldiers, who understood where such a smell came from, were only filled with disgust and the urge to balk.

Nobody was willing to enter the village reduced to ashes. The fire the night before had been as strong as strong as Claude had anticipated. It was stoked along by a stiff breeze as well. It didn't help that the masses of shield carts the nobles had built had caught fire as well and blocked any hope of escape from the village.

No one had imagined their enemy would set their work alight. It was not doable, either, as far as the nobles were concerned. The defenders had turtled in their camp and fortified it like a fortress and even sealed their only escape route.

The camp was also located a few hundred metres away from the village and if the enemy had tried to burn the shield carts down, the nobles' private soldiers would definitely discover it. Even though the muskets they were armed with were subpar and obsolete, they were far from glorified sticks. They could still be used to repel an enemy advance. The defenders, limited in number as they already were, would surely not dare take such risks.

Claude had planned to burn the village long before the fight had started. He had initially only wanted to keep the nobles on the road to Askilin. He hadn't thought the Canasian nobles would join up with Askilin's forces after they were stuck. It forced Claude to have no choice but to retreat to the camp behind Squirrel Village and slowly wear down the enemy forces. He was worried that the many enemies would expose the fire starters he left in the village eventually.

Fortunately, the nobles had settled on building shield carts and kept themselves really busy for three whole days. That was when Claude decided to push back the plan to set the village on fire by three days. He let them block the village entrance with shield carts and lined them up all across the village since it was nothing but suicidal.

Usually, using heated cannonballs to attack the enemy was a tactic employed in naval conflict. Soldiers seldom used it on land. The reason was that ships were made of wood and heated shots stood a chance to ignite the enemy ship and sink it quicker. As most defensive armaments on land was created with stone, heating shots up was not only troublesome, but it also decreased the impact the shots would have.

But Claude used them to start the fires instead of sending his men out for the same purpose. His constant bombardment of the shield carts desensitised the enemy to any movement in their camp. The nobles didn't mind having the shield carts destroyed anyway and wanted to use them to make Claude waste gunpowder.

So, most of the soldiers went into the decrepit shacks of the villagers to sleep instead of paying vigilant attention to the cannon fire. The peasants, on the other hand, rested right after a good meal. They had toiled hard for three whole days and were severely worn out. Felling trees and dragging them back to the village was no easy work, so they all slept early and soundly. They would have to attack the enemy camp early the next day, after all.

When the first burning hot cannonball soared through the skies of the village, the soldiers merely looked up and ignored it and were even apathetic to whichever unlucky fool who would be struck by it. They didn't know Claude was, in fact, aiming for the trenches at the back part of the village and the wooden fence surrounding it. The soldiers were preoccupied with checking whether the enemy would emerge from the camp to attack.

When the run-down wooden fence and the trenches began to burn, the peasants and soldiers were completely oblivious to it. They were wondering why the cannonballs didn't strike the shield carts instead to produce the thud they were so familiar with. Only after some peasants sleeping near the outer rim were roused from their sleep and cried 'fire' did Claude start shooting at the old shacks in the center of the village. A few heated cannonballs through the roofs of the shacks set the whole place ablaze, and the soldiers and peasants realised far too late.

The winds only got stronger during the night, carrying the flames from one straw roof to another and setting other spots alight. There were almost no stone buildings inside Squirrel Village, with most of them being constructed from shoddy wood. It had been two months since the rainy season and there was only a small rain more than a week back, so the shacks were incredibly dry. The sawdust and wood chunks left behind from the construction of the shield carts as well as the dried straw and firewood left throughout the village covered in oil and gunpowder only accelerated the burning.

The soldiers and peasants had tried to put out the fires by dousing the wood near them with water or trying to beat up the small embers near them, but the wind rendered their efforts useless. The whole village was burning and by the time they realised there was no hope of putting the fires out, it was too late. The 20-odd rows of shield carts barring the village's exit had started burning and trapped everyone in the village.

Had the soldiers near the village entrance rushed out the moment they noticed it, the worst that could happen to them was being captured. But the only thing on their minds was that the enemy base was outside the village, so their first thought was to head to the back with the intent on leaving from there.

But that was where the flames started. It was so thick nobody could run through it and expect to survive. The shield carts piled up and the panicked peasants buzzing about like flies, and the burning shacks around them blocked their escape.

By the time the soldiers and peasants thought to escape the village, the shield carts strewn across the empty spaces in the village started to burn and block the way. The rest of the logs felled began to release smoke and delivered yet another fatal blow to those trapped within.

The speed at which the fire spread was beyond Claude's wildest predictions. From more than a hundred metres away, he could feel the heatwave. Everyone who heard the cries and shrieks from the village felt rather distressed, but they couldn't rescue them even if they wanted to. There was no way to approach the burning village at all.

A few burning wheat stalks were blown by the wind to the wooden rain shelters on the camp's walls. Claude immediately ordered his troops to douse it with water. He couldn't let his camp burn too.

He then had Mazik lead a band of men to remove all the wooden boards they stacked over the trap holes on the mountain path. By the time his men splashed the entirety of the camp with some water, the ones who weren't injured set out to attack the alternate enemy camp and even brought two cannons with them.

The noble forces in the alternate camp also noticed the burning village. The night sky was practically entirely red. Apart from a few nobles too drunk to be awoken, the remaining nobles gathered at the entrance of their camp and looked towards the village.

Apart from sending people to check what was going on, the distraught nobles were squabbling about how the fire could've started. Most of them believed either someone accidentally let a fire spread or that the enemy started setting fire to the shield carts. They didn't really care whether all the carts were burned up or not. They had the numbers and could easily fell more trees to build new ones.

But when the troops sent to check on the village returned with a few hundred survivors, the nobles were made aware of the state of the village. There were more than two thousand more of their own trapped in the village and their men said they couldn't approach the village at all. The fire burned too strongly and all they could do was listen to the agonised cries for help coming from within.

The nobles felt as if a lightning bolt had struck them on the head. A few of them passed out from vomiting blood, and those who didn't lose any blood didn't feel too well either. They were completely dejected and broken, mumbling nonsense while plastered on the ground. They all knew their attempt to raid the three southern prefectures had ended in their complete bankruptcy.

Claude and his men dealt the final blow before they could come to their senses. Had the shield carts lined up beyond the large trap hole not alerted the enemy of their presence, Claude was certain he could've captured all the nobles there.

But when the soldiers of the nobles noticed Claude and the others placing wooden boards over their trap holes, they dragged as many of their despairing masters they could with them into the camp and shut the door.

By the time he blasted the camp entrance open with the two cannons, the noble's forces knew it was all over. They gathered up all the mounts and workhorses in the camp and helped the nobles who snapped out of their stupor on their mounts and destroyed the rear end of their fence so they could escape.

When Claude and the rest bust through the camp, they only caught some tens of servants and hundreds of injured soldiers who couldn't escape in time, as well as the six nobles still dead drunk in their tents. The others had left without a trace.

Chapter 262 - Triumphant Report

Major Lederfanc took only one day to arrive at Squirrel Village. Claude had just managed to settle the captives down and made an inventory of the spoils he got from the noble army's camp. There was still much to do, such as deconstructing the camp, refilling the trap holes on the mountain paths, as well as cleaning up the village along with burying all those corpses. It all culminated in a huge headache.

The moment he saw Lederfanc, Claude was overjoyed. He dropped everything and left it to the major before returning to his room for a long slumber. Seeing Claude's bloodshot eyes, Lederfanc understood how tough it must've been to fend the enemy off and ordered the soldiers who participated in battle to get some rest. He would take charge of the captives with his band of men.

Nevertheless, youth was forgiving. Claude slept a whole fourteen hours before he next woke and emerged, fatigueless. He was completely refreshed. After going downstairs, he saw Lederfanc and a few other officers from tribe headquarters seated at the dining table in the main hall looking through the inventory of spoils. He greeted them before heading into the kitchen to get something to eat and wash up before coming back out to hear the results.

It was unfortunate that while they obtained quite a good amount of supplies, there weren't many things of worth. Most of them were food and ammunition. The food was meant for the peasants to eat, so they were the coarsest and most unrefined sort. The nobles themselves didn't need that huge an amount of fine ingredients anyway. As for the ammunition, as the standards of equipment between Aueras and the other two duchies varied too greatly, so they wouldn't be able to even make up for the amount of ammunition Claude expended.

There wasn't much cash either, with there being only a chest filled with copper coins and a small sack of silver coins, all in Askilinian currency to boot. They were worth only some 30 crowns in total. Lederfenc conjectured that those coins were for motivating the peasants. The nobles had attempted to go to raid the three southern prefectures, after all, not to trade there. So, they brought lots of soldiers with them but little to no money.

The most valuable spoils were the tents themselves, especially the nobles' tents. Most were made from high-quality leather with golden embroidery, mostly of their family crests. They had to be handed over to their superiors as proof of their achievements, however. It was a shame, since they were no doubt quite comfortable to live in.

Lederfanc pointed at a corner in the hall. "Take two bottles for yourself. You can pick one from the other stuff as a memorial of this battle. These are all collected from the nobles' tents and are among the most valuable things we got from the battle."

Claude turned to look and saw five cartons of fine wine, which the nobles brought along to enjoy during their excursion. There were only a little more than a hundred bottles in total. Beside the cartons were the weapons, clothes, and gold and silverware. Usually, officers were allowed to personally claim some of these artefacts as memorials, since submitting them wouldn't earn them more merit anyway. They would only end up in a pile of other valuables in the treasury.

He took two bottles of fine wine and an elegant shortsword. It looked to be a magic item. He had used Eye of Appraisal and saw a silver glow enveloped over the blade. He believed the sword was enchanted with Sharpen. He tried to pierce the wooden pillar nearby and as expected, it slid in easily.

"Let's go over the finer points of the battle in the report," Lederfanc said in a strict tone, "Please give detailed description wherever possible and outline all the traps and tactics you used to set fire to the village. The results are so ridiculous that most would dismiss it as made up. It's 5000 versus 170-odd men, yet you were able to exterminate more than four thousand enemies while suffering only a couple losses of your own. That is why we must make sure the report is as concrete and substantiated it can be so that people won't be able to find any loopholes in it."

"I understand." Claude nodded.

The major worked another busy week in Squirrel Village. He instructed the captives and soldiers to clear out all 2500 plus burnt bodies from the village and bury them in a marked spot. Then, he got Claude, his men and the captives to go to the defence line behind the village and the turn the Canasian nobles were stuck at to dig out all the burial spots to count the corpses before reburying them. The total number of killed enemies was 4385, as proven by the corpses.

According to the testimonies of the captives, there were another 400-odd heavily injured men who were transported back. Coupled with the 200-odd captives, Claude had indeed resisted an attack from five thousand enemy troops with only 170 men and exterminated nearly all of them. That disproportionate victory was miraculous and would mark a significant chapter in history.

Lederfanc returned with his thick stack of documents, satisfied. Not only did he have Claude's detailed battle report, there was also a count of the enemy corpses and the marked burial spots as well as the testimonies of more than two hundred captives. Some more heavily injured captives and the six unlucky nobles were also taken away, leaving behind around 130 able-bodied captives and most of the supplies. Claude would need them to rebuild Squirrel Village.

Less than three full bands remained in the village. Most of the two duchies' nobles had escaped, but they still had to regroup with their armies before they could come back. It was severely unlikely, but Claude could not afford incaution.

Aueras had been in a severe predicament in the region before Lederfranc's report. While Claude was resisting the nobles' attack, the 200-odd thousand Alliance troops in Rimodra pushed on Bluefeather's positions on the border. They wiped a third of Bluefeather off the map in just a fortnight. The corps was just barely holding on and had been forced to deploy another irregular corps.

To the east, another irregular corps was facing off against Askilin and Canas' reformed reserves. Fortunately, the two duchies' elites were in Rimodra. The ones sent against the southern prefectures were mostly greenhorns and combat virgins. While they had numbers, they lacked skill and dashed themselves against Aueras' irregular, but veteran corps.

The area with the highest tension was actually in the southern prefectures. There was always a rebellion going on somewhere and the temporary road through the Pikleit Mountains hadn't been cleared yet. Reinforcements and supplies couldn't be sent into the three southern prefectures. Lacking in manpower, the Aueran forces in the prefectures weren't able to suppress the revolts effectively, to say no less of logistically supporting the troops at the frontlines.

If Claude didn't stop the nobles, the results would be catastrophic. What little semblance of order was left would be shattered. No one doubted the whole region would burn and drown in blood.

Lederfanc was all too aware that Claude's report was just what the region's troops needed to lift their morale. It might even calm the uprisings. Many of the insurgents were incited by spies sent by those very nobles, after all.

But now that the nobles' five thousand men were actually repelled by a mere 170 and almost completely wiped out, the spies would have to reconsider how truly strong the Aueran forces were and whether they would have any future should the Aueran reinforcements arrive.

Lederfanc's worries proved to be necessary, as many weren't willing to believe the battle report after it was publicised. Many people in the three southern prefectures thought it a lie and even a joke. The officers of the three main corps of Aueras, on the other hand, believed that it was a lie devised to boost morale, a group lie which they all agreed to not expose.

Lederfanc also sent a summary of that report to frontline command through carrier eagle and the officer who received it balked in disbelief immediately. Regardless, he did submit the report to the staff. As expected, the staff officers were also infuriated at the degree of supposed exaggeration of military accomplishments among their ranks. A mere 170 men wiping out 5000 enemy troops was completely unbelievable. Were the enemies armed only with swords and spears? They submitted the report to the first-in-command on the frontlines, Prince Hansbach, and suggested that the officers responsible for that report be punished.

Prince Hansbach was incredibly busy. As the first-in-command, he was occupied with endless tasks. Ever since the rainy season ended during the 3rd month, he had never gotten more than five hours of sleep. The temporary path they paved through Pikleit Mountains had been destroyed by the floods of the rainy season. Mudslides and the slippery surface made the path completely unusable and caused the forces in the three southern prefectures to lose contact with the main force. They were truly isolated and the sudden turn of events drained the prince greatly.

Early in the 4th month, the prince ordered the royal guard and two irregular corps to push onwards. He hoped to take some pressure of the three prefectures. Hansbach officiated the manoeuvre. He hoped it would wipe 500 thousand Alliance troops off the map. He didn't think the rainy season would cripple their supply route so severely. The situation had become so dire the prince had started doubting his judgement.

If the three corps involved in the offensive were wiped out, Aueras would lose the initiative, possible irrevocably. The best result then would be another stalemate, which, whilst the best result, would not be a good one. The kingdom had more manpower than any one, or two, of its adversaries, but could not equal their total. And, while its enemies could share the losses, it took every death personally. Not to mention that everyone knew the Alliance was being supported by the powers further north, though mostly through unofficial channels. It was a useful bulwark against Aueran ambitions.

The prince didn't know the saying, 'a just cause inspires support', but he couldn't deny Aueras' imperialist ambitions. He knew that if he made a mistake and suffered a strategic loss now, the war could last several more years, if not another decade or more. The kingdom had prepared for years before this war started exactly to finish it in a timely manner. His failure would thus undo the efforts of thousands of people, an uncomfortable number of which held considerable power and influence in the kingdom.

The path through Pikleit Mountains had to be restored as soon as possible so that the three southern prefectures could be reached. That was the key to turning the tides of war. Frustratingly for Hansbach, no matter how determined he was, he wouldn't be able to teach the logistics units how to fly into the three southern prefectures. The path was successfully constructed in the first place thanks to the stiff road conditions in winter. But the rainy season weakened the loose earth around the mountains and repairs were going slowly in that state. More manpower wouldn't necessarily accelerate the pace of the repairs.

And during such a crucial time, the officers pestered the prince for a seemingly faked battle report. Did the troops in the three southern prefectures think that nobody would be able to verify the truth of the matter just because the route there was cut off? Hansbach wanted to order for the punishment of the officers involved in that report without even bothering to read it.

At that moment, his aide, Captain Skri stopped him.

"You should read the report thoroughly."

"Why?"

Skri didn't fear the prince's temperament, however.

"This report was sent by Major Lederfanc, and the one credited is Claude."

"Lederfanc? He's the tribesman of 1st Rangers now, right? He's a reliable and responsible man. He wouldn't defraud me. Who's Claude again? His name sounds familiar..."

The prince pondered for a long moment.

"He is one of the lower-ranked officers you wanted to note. His name and file should be recorded in that notebook of yours," the captain reminded.

He picked up a thick notebook from the prince's desk and opened it to reveal names and descriptions. The ones recorded within were those whom the prince thought to have a bright future, but many of the names were crossed out with a black line, which marked their deaths on the battlefield.

He flipped to the rear.

Chapter 263 - Background

"Just read it out to me," Prince Hansbach said.

"Yes, Your Highness." Skri picked the notebook up again.

"Claude Ferd. Born on the 18th of the 3rd month, Year 558, Sacred Light Era. Citizen of Whitestag City. Twenty-one this year. Graduated first place from elementary school at eighteen. Recommended to Bluefeather by Viscount Felidos, Governor of Whitestag, for commission.

"Got into a fight with veterans twice during training. Injured six and crippled a sergeant-major, but was sent to the infirmary himself both times. In both cases it was determined he acted in self-defence. Graduated the officer course with the highest congregate score of his peers. Second Lieutenant Most of Bluefeather's 11th Tribe, presiding instructor, holds him in the highest regards.

"He is a known herbal medicine student of Baroness Maria--"

"--Wait," Hansbach interrupted, "Baroness Maria? Aunt, Maria?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Hansbach frowned.

"I remember now. She's a Whitestag local and travels there every year. It's still strange she'd take a grunt like him as a disciple though."

"Claude's father was the town's chief administrator prior to its ascension to cityhood. Perhaps he acted as an intermediary? The man lost his position due to his involvement in the incident with the new trade route. The baroness apparently intervened and ensured his release, however. But his father incurred heavy debt because of the venture and committed suicide."

Skri had not left anything out, not even the unconfirmed information. If nothing else, he took his duty as the prince's note scribe and birdie seriously. He spared no effort to investigate every person that caught the prince's eye.

The current notebook he held was already the nth volume. He had almost given up counting how many he'd filled up over the years. At the very least, it included the names and backgrounds of every single officer in any of the forces that served under the prince, at least several hundred.

The prince had little time to get to know his subordinates personally, but he loved inspecting his forces. He was an expert in military affairs and understood how to run an army perfectly. He always made time to talk with his bottom rung officers when out on his tours of inspection. It made him an excellent talent scout, and he'd become somewhat famous for it.

No one would ever guess that he remembered the names of barely a dozen of all those people he'd scouted. To call him terrible with names was an understatement worthy of execution. If not for the little birdy constantly chirping the names in his ear, he would not remember even the couple names he does.

"Ptoooey!"

The prince spat on his precious carpet without reservation.

"Those useless fools in the navy spend so much of our kingdom's resources every year but don't do anything but build new ships and get them sunk by the Alliance. They don't even know how to forge new trade routes in peacetime. Even small-time merchants and local officials have more ambition than them. They even blamed the pirates on the proprietors and call themselves Fearless. What a bunch of fools. And now they're still just skirmishing with the enemy out on the open waters. They don't have the balls to attack a single port!"

Skri smiled bitterly. He knew the navy would walk under the prince's hail. Unlike Stellin X, who ascended thanks to the navy's support, Prince Hansbach was an army man through and through. The navy didn't get along with him at all, and their relationship had only gotten worse after he'd mocked them in front of an assembly of nobles as being turtles and bilge rats several years earlier.

The prince had wanted a coordinated assault between the army and navy. He wanted them to sweep up the coast and cut the enemy off from the ocean, but Lord of the Admiralty, Count Andreak Feng Carlos, refused to cooperate. He insisted they were already doing their utmost keeping the enemy navy occupied. Everyone knew he was just trying to avoid losing ships, which was unavoidable in war, but no one could do anything about it. He reported directly to the king and no one else had the authority to say anything to him.

Thus, thanks to the navy's limp response, the enemy still controlled the coast. As a result, Aueras couldn't use any of the ports they'd captured as supply bases and shorten their supply lines. Everything still had to be carted over land. The enemy, on the other hand, could flood their frontlines with ammunition, arms, and supplies from the nearest port.

The prince had sworn more than once that if he ascended the throne, he would demand an offering of blood from the navy to make up for all the ill-advised decisions they had made thus far. The navy profited off ferrying around their own goods for personal gain during the trips they made to and from the seven colonies. It was no secret. While they refused to admit it, the first prince didn't fail to notice; and he would have crucified them for it if only he had proof.

Prime Minister Cryus Man Duncan suggested the formation of a new fleet, Storm, and the promotion of Whitestag from town to city due to the new trade route so that there would be competition for Fearless. They would also be a welcome addition to the force and prevent the navy from completely disintegrating into a mere transport fleet. The well-studied of the kingdom knew that a rich fleet was one that couldn't fight. It was Stellin X's deep trust in Count Andreak Feng Carlos that stopped anyone from interfering with the man's plans.

"Continue..."

After venting, the first prince was frustrated to realise that there wasn't much he could do to the naval officers given his current position, so he could only watch.

"Yes, Your Highness--" Skri continued to go through the information in the notebook. "--Bluefeather only found out about Claude's backing after Baroness Maria sent him a letter. He suddenly became a hot potato no one wanted to handle. Claude was heavily injured thanks to the machinations of the veteran he'd crippled and undergoing treatment. They promoted him to sergeant-major immediately and charged him with training a keeper and stretcher regiment."

"Wait, did Claude use my aunt's name to gain any benefits?" the prince asked.

"No," Skri shook his head, "Actually, had the baroness not sent him that letter, nobody would have known about his connection with her at all. He never brought it up. He also never asked her for any help in any of his subsequent letters, and especially didn't mention any of his fights or injuries. I heard that when His Highness the second prince was there, he extended a hand to Claude on account of the baroness, but was refused. He was furious but didn't do anything."

The first prince nodded.

"My little brother grew up by my aunt's side, unlike me... I often travelled seeking thrills. That's why my brother would always make sure to follow my aunt's wishes. Go on."

"As the unit he was assigned was formed provisionally on the frontlines, the recruits from which he was allowed to pick were all cadet rejects, a few of whom were even borderline idiots. Yet, he trained them into qualified soldiers in less than two months. The keeper tent he formed even joined a mock battle against a veteran band. They were the attackers and Claude won."

"Huh? How's that even possible?"

Skri smiled.

"The same way he took Wilf Stronghold, Your Majesty."

"You mean..."

"His men were using Mark 3s. They crawled to the defended area and shot at the enemy formation. Even the two cannons were useless. The targets were all struck down. The spectators were completely baffled. The whole reason word of this small mock battle even spread was because the veterans criticised Claude's tactics as cowardly. They mocked him for lacking the bravery a kingdom's soldier should have."

"I remember now. He's the guy who held the pass at Audin Mountain Range, right? I recall he trained his men to reload prone, dirtying their uniforms. I assigned him to the ranger tribe and he was the one who led the attack on Wilf Stronghold with the same tactic and quickly overran the defenders. I heard he was injured and sent back to the city, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness finally remembers."

Skri breathed a sigh of relief. The first prince was truly far too busy to keep every detail in mind.

"How did he find his way into the three southern prefectures?"

"Has Your Highness forgotten you expanded the ranger unit? After Claude recovered, he rejoined 1st Ranger Tribe and now serves under Major Lederfanc. I heard the major is really impressed with him. I wonder if Your Highness remembers 1st Ranger Tribe taking 54 days to conquer the impregnable Blackmaple Castle with only 27 casualties? Claude was the proposer of that particular strategy. Your Highness delayed their reward by 54 days in retaliation."

"Oh? That happened too, huh..."

The first prince rubbed his nose awkwardly. He didn't think he could be so petty. It sounded childish now someone else talked about it.

Skri ignored his lord's awkwardness and continued.

"After taking Blackmaple Castle, he was sent to Pikleit Mountains to find a pass into the three southern prefectures. They succeeded and was posted at the pass' entrance to guard it. After Bluefeather took the three prefectures, his unit was split up to guard all the checkpoints. Claude was left with just a band and ordered to hold Squirrel Village.

"You once opined that Claude was brave, reliable, and could think out of the box. His radical ideas always bring about unexpected results."

Prince Hansbach understood what the captain was hinting. He pointed at the report.

"So you think it's true? It isn't an exaggeration?"

"I believe Your Highness understands Major Lederfanc's character. He is straightforward and sincere; he wouldn't lie about something like this. Why else did Your Highness pick him for his command if not for this reason? He would not pass on such a wild report if he was not absolutely certain of its validity.

"And Claude was the one in charge of the whole thing. It sounds just like him to burn the enemy in their own huts."

The prince stroked his chin for several moments.

"Set it aside for now. Once we've opened the pass again we'll verify it ourselves. If it is indeed true, then I'll go see that boy myself and reward him personally."

Chapter 264 - Leisurely Time

Claude didn't know the kind of chain reaction the report Major Lederfanc submitted generated to the point it was considered a fraud. He was constantly tired and busy, and the only respite he got was the half day he got to spend with Sheila once every few days. That was the only time he got some peace and quiet.

He wasn't physically worn out, but mentally worn out. Apart from Gum, who thought of nothing else but filling his stomach, all the other soldiers behaved a little oddly, showing some signs of mental strain. Mazik, for example, lost sleep for many days a time, saying that he could hear the agonised cries from Squirrel Village that night every time he closed his eyes.

If a veteran like Mazik showed such symptoms, the other soldiers definitely weren't exempt. Moriad and Dyavid were similar. They privately told Claude they felt the death of comrades or enemies on the battlefield was normal and it was nothing about which to be sad. But burning so many at the not-so-proverbial stake, friend or foe, made them pity the poor sods. They didn't perish on the battlefield, but rather, from a dark scheme. Their cries for help had deeply affected the men.

Fortunately, the instructions to put out the fires near the camp had kept the soldiers busy enough to spare them the worst of it. They were not the same after the dust settled, however. Many woke up in the middle of the night, beds or cots drenched in sweat, shivering at visions of themselves or their comrades burning in that same pyre.

Mazik, Moriad, and Dyavid constantly suffered from insomnia, and they were far from the worst off.

It didn't help that many believed the souls of the burned couldn't go to the wargod's kingdom and would haunt their death grounds for all eternity. And the soot-blackened village ruins made it all the easier to see ghosts at night or on misty mornings.

Claude didn't believe any of it for a single moment, but that did nothing for his men. If anyone was to be haunted by the dead, he should be it. He had masterminded the whole thing, after all. His men were just suffering from post-traumatic stress. The army made every effort to dehumanise the enemy to make it easier to kill them, but it could only do so much, and that was not enough to overcome the intense revulsion at the screams of utter terror and agony thousands burning to death could utter. The human mind was programmed to be disturbed by the sounds of another's agony, after all.

The guilt of being the ones who'd done this to them was even worse for it, as the human mind was doubly programmed to detest the thought of inflicting such suffering on one's own kind, killing even more so.

Luckily, the belief in spirits, while being a partial cause of the problem, could also be a partial solution to the problem. It could not undo their trauma, but it could at least help him trick them into believing they had done something to relieve the dead's suffering. He sent Moriad to find a priest and hire him to perform a cleansing of the village and send the dead on their way. He could not let this further humanise them, however. The men had to remember this as a victory against the enemy, not a travesty against fellow humans.

It took him ten days, but he got rid of the 'spirits of the dead', and propagandised their inhumanity back into his men's minds. It didn't solve the problem entirely, but it would at least let them take up arms again without constant panic attacks. He also paid out-of-pocket to have them swamped in booze and wenches for several days.

Sheila wondered why he didn't show any of the men's symptoms.

"Do you not feel any guilt over what you did? Though I guess you're not a magus for nothing. We don't care about the likes of mundane people."

Claude did indeed not feel anything at the sight of the burnt husks of his enemies. He could, however, not stand the smell of fire since that day. He always vomited when he smelt smoke, whether it be from a fire or a pipe.

It was not because he was a magus, however, though in principle it was the same. It was because he was a transmigrator. None of the people in this world were the same as him, none of them were 'human' in that sense. He was a fundamentally different being, a human from Earth. These people may look and feel, smell and taste, even behave exactly the same, but they were not humans from Earth. They were not his humans.

Not that he could not become attached to them -- his love for his family, affection for his wife-to-be, and lust for his mistress were proof enough that he could -- he just didn't have any instinctual kinship with people he had not grown close to directly. Back on Earth, one felt an immediate closeness with one's countrymen, people from one's hometown, or who'd gone to the same school or university, whilst others had to earn equal positions in ones heart. It was the same in this case. Whereas Claude felt an instinctive kinship with his fellow humans from Earth, he had no such connection with anyone in this world. He had literally nothing in that sense in common with people whom he'd not gotten to know on a personal level.

Deaths in this world were truly just a statistic, unless they included one of the aforementioned people close to him. His survival was all that mattered in this war. He appreciated the fragility of life more than anyone, having lost it once already, and he was determined not to test his luck at reincarnation a second time. As such, he was more than prepared to do the most heinous things to whoever got in the way of his continued survival, man, woman, elder or child, it didn't matter. If they stood in his way, they would die. And if they had to die in the most horrendous of ways, then so be it.

The villagers had returned. They could not afford to miss the planting season. Now that the battle was over, they couldn't continue to stay in Blackstone Village. But Squirrel Village was currently burned down and all that remained were ashes.

Claude was willing to take responsibility and help with the village's rebuilding. He wouldn't be the one breaking his back from the work anyway. Instead, the 130-odd captives would. Claude had wanted to restructure the village completely to make sure it had proper houses. That wouldn't cost too much money since most of the building materials could be sourced from the mountains. The only thing he lacked back then was manpower, which he now had. The crude food he got from the nobles would be just enough to sustain the captives until the construction was complete.

Claude encouraged the villagers to expand their reach to other industries too. Given Squirrel Village's terrain, it might be expanded into a military base down the line. Even if Claude's unit was ordered to leave, the top would definitely send more people to guard the village to take control of the mountain paths. If the villagers started rearing livestock, there would definitely be customers to sell them to. They wouldn't have to worry about transport costs either, and it would be a great side income for the villagers too. The military would also have a steady supply of food.

Mazik on the other hand secretly encouraged the village chief to build a tavern while the captives were still there so that soldiers staying there in the future would have a place to unwind all the while filling the chief's pockets. That was how the chief got goaded into asking Claude to build a tavern, which he eventually yielded and agreed to.

Planning was Claude's expertise, but he wasn't going to build luxurious homes for the villagers. All he did was rearrange the placement of the buildings in the village. The villagers only needed houses better than their old ruined shacks. Adding another yard to each of the houses was more than enough to make them thankful.

Claude was going to build houses out of clay. He had wood baked dry and built into frames for the houses and driven into the ground to serve as foundation. After that, he dug up mud, clay and lime from the mountains and ground them together into concrete bricks which were laid along the frame. After the bricks dried, the clay and lime mixture was plastered all over the walls. It took only ten plus men and half a month to build a house. As for the furnishings and decorations, Claude left it entirely to the villagers.

The tavern was among the first to be completed per the chief's wishes. The chief then took a few villagers through a few other villages in the mountains and returned with four rather young widows to work as barmaids and also purchased all sorts of spirits the mountain folks brewed. Soon, they held the grand opening.

Claude, however, didn't bother to partake in all that. Instead, he visited Sheila in the witch's forest. He returned the next day to find the tavern doors shut tight. Not knowing what was going on, he asked around and found out that business boomed in the tavern. Almost all soldiers who weren't on duty went there. The soldiers that were stationed in the village had nowhere else to spend their salaries, so they wouldn't miss their chance now that a new tavern was built. It didn't take one night for them to clear out the alcohol and snacks in the tavern.

The village chief and his wife, as well as the villagers working there, were so busy that they didn't even get to eat dinner. The four young widows also got endless streams of clients. They busied themselves from four in the afternoon all the way till two in the morning, not getting off their beds even once. A whole line of soldiers was waiting. It was said that each of the women served more than twenty soldiers and didn't recover until they had a good three to four days of rest.

Darn it! Are they that sexually frustrated?! There were only 130-odd soldiers in the village now and two-thirds of them sought out the services of those four widows. It was rather embarrassing.

Dyavid entered with a knock and following him in were the two signallers who were still talking about the wonders of the barmaids and the tavern. As sergeant-majors, Dyavid, Moriad and Mazik were among the first to be served by the barmaids. The signallers were on duty last night and didn't go to the tavern and they were dreamily listening to Dyavid's sexual exploits.

Claude ordered Dyavid to shut up with a grim look and received the letter from the signaller. It was an order from Lederfanc. Dyavid's band was to be transferred back to town to suppress a rebellion. Since a month had passed without word of the nobles gathering another army to retaliate, headquarters no longer thought it necessary to station three bands in Squirrel Village and transferred Dyavid's unit back.

After signing the letter and sending the signallers out, Claude reprimanded Dyavid harshly. Bragging about sexual encounters with women wasn't something to be proud of. It was vulgar and superficial. He also warned him to watch out for the barmaids in town. Who knew if they were also insurgents setting up honey traps for Aueran soldiers?

When Claude finished his rambling, Dyavid talked back, dissatisfied. "Chief, you got a beautiful girlfriend yourself, so it's no wonder you're not desperate. By the way, I heard you laid with a beautiful baroness the last time too. We aren't as capable as you, Chief, so the best we can do is to get our fill at the taverns."

Claude couldn't find any words and merely waved Dyavid off.

The two months after defeating the noble army was a rare moment of respite for him. Even though there were still many matters he had to take charge of, he was the only one in charge within Squirrel Village. He didn't need to consult anyone else and his instructions would be executed without question. He delegated most of the tasks to Mazik, Moriad and Myjack from rebuilding the village to regular patrols and training exercises, so he had ample time to go to the witch's forest for his rendezvous with Sheila.

Apart from Dyavid being summoned to quell a rebellion, Claude showed little interest in other matters. His tribesman, Lederfanc, did send him many letters with all sorts of information. He was informed that the temporary path through Pikleit Mountains had been restored and two irregular corps of reinforcements were sent to the three southern prefectures. They would head to the barely held frontlines immediately.

Some ten days later, Lederfanc brought a clan of men to Squirrel Village and told Claude they were from the staff and military discipline departments from frontline command. They were there to verify Claude and the other troops' achievements.

Chapter 265 - Joint Investigation Committee

The weather that day was good. Blue skies, fluffy clouds and golden rays of sunlight were all in place. The wilderness looked lush and green and the breeze that blew by carried with it the smell of life.

However, the officers in the joint investigation committee formed by frontline command seemed to have their hairs standing. They felt a deep-seated, eerie chill. They had just dug up the body pits per the orders of the top to verify the number of corpses stated in the report.

Lederfanc coldly ordered his men to carry the order out. There was no choice. The fact that Claude fended off the nobles' armies from both duchies with only three bands of men was hard to believe. Most, if not all, doubted he had achieved that much. The numerical disparity was far too large, and even those officers that denied Claude's achievements didn't dare to claim that they could win. It was said that the staff officers at frontline command tried innumerable times to simulate the battle based on the map of the terrain, but the ideal result still ended with the death of all Aueran troops after half a month of deadly resistance.

That was why many people had a lot to say when they heard Prince Hansbach regarded the report seriously instead of ignoring it. Some even objected to his decision and demanded the alleged false-reporting be punished, or it would set a bad example for the rest of the force and the consequences were immeasurable.

But the prince ignored his subordinates' suggestions and waited until the path through Pikleit Mountains was repaired. After reinforcements were sent to the three southern prefectures, the prince held a military council and formed a joint investigation committee to investigate the claims of 1st Ranger Tribe.

It was worth noting that most of the officers in that committee were the ones who doubted the report the most. The prince only sent Captain Skri as his representative to ensure that the other officers didn't pull any tricks. Who could tell what the men had in mind? Perhaps they would try to cover the truth up if it contradicted their beliefs to avoid loss of face.

Back then, the path through Pikleit Mountains was still in disrepair and Lederfanc had no choice but to use a carrier eagle to send that report to frontline command. As the four ranger tribes were formed in a time of war by the first prince, they reported directly to frontline command. Even though the three southern prefectures were held by Bluefeather, they didn't hold any jurisdiction over the ranger tribes.

Carrier eagles were just like carrier pigeons in that any information sent had to be summarised and succinct. That was why Lederfanc had to exclude a lot of details, covering only the most important and basic facts. The documents of proof for the battle were still in tribe headquarters. He knew that the summarised report would surely earn the doubt of others, but he didn't think frontline command would be thrown into such a huge commotion over it and send over an investigation committee to dispel doubt.

The moment the joint investigation committee arrived at 1st Ranger Tribe's headquarters, they flipped through the evidence and detailed battle reports and tried to seek any sign of forgery. However, Major Lederfanc's compilation was thorough and perfect. There was nothing the investigators could nitpick.

They tossed the documents to one side, having been unable to find any proof of deceit, and decided to use another method. First, they interrogated the six captured nobles, then the 100-odd captives, before checking the spoils of battle and finally inspecting the scene of battle: Squirrel Village itself.

When they reached the village, Claude took the staff officers from the committee on a tour throughout the locations where the battles were fought. It took him three whole days for the tour. He repeated his recollection of those battles in as great detail he could. Even though Squirrel Village was being rebuilt, the burn marks were present all over the place. Claude had to rewrite one battle report and draw a diagram of the original map of Squirrel Village, complete with the placement of traps and the method with which he baited the enemy into it.

After three long days, it was finally Mazik, Moriad and the others' turns. All soldiers who had participated in battle couldn't avoid the questioning sessions. They were basically done to record the recollections of the soldiers and cross-check them for lies or fabrications. Even Dyavid, who left for town to suppress local revolts, wasn't exempt from it. He brought his band back to the village to go through the same process.

Next was the turn of the 130-odd captives Claude used as labourers. Claude took the opportunity to ask Lederfanc to send the twelve captives who had recovered from their injury at tribe headquarters to him. Since they had nothing better to do there, it would be better for them to contribute to the work in Squirrel Village.

The reconstruction of Squirrel Village caused some of the villagers' relatives in Blackstone Village and Carmen Village to want to move there. There were 20-odd households in total. But there was a problem: there wasn't sufficient farmland in Squirrel Village. The village chief and Sergeant-Major Mazik came to Claude with the request to borrow the 130-odd captive labourers to cultivate new farmland. Lately, the chief's tavern business had been going well and he saved up quite a bit of money. He was willing to hire people for work.

Claude was all too glad to hear that. More farmland in the village would definitely be a good thing for the officers stationed there in the future, as there would be more variety of food and vegetables. At the very least, they would no longer have to travel one whole day on horseback to the nearest town to purchase fresh vegetables and fruits. Given that the villagers had started rearing livestock, they would require additional food to sustain themselves. Perhaps Squirrel Village might become a town if it was allowed to develop like this further.

The village chief also wanted to start a brewery, mainly to brew wine from wild fruits in the mountain and blackwheat ale. The alcohol served in the tavern were mostly sourced from the other folk living in the mountains and the cost of travelling that far to buy from them made alcohol considerably more expensive. That wasn't a good deal for the village chief, so he felt it best if a few hectares of farmland could be used to plant blackwheat for the ale.

Claude agreed to that request. The gunpowder he got from the noble army wasn't of much use to him anyway, so he decided to use them to blow up a few hills and use the earth and rock to fill up a few gallies to make new farmland. The captives would be doing all the work anyway, and the village chief could hire some soldiers if that wasn't enough. The soldiers would definitely welcome the extra income they could spend at the village chief's tavern.

Lederfanc quite admired Claude's plan to rebuild the village and encourage them to develop their agriculture. On one hand, it could make up for the damage done to the village. On the other, it would earn the kingdom loyalty of the mountain folk in the area. Should another war break out, the folk would definitely side with Aueras instead of being swayed by informants from the two duchies again. Revolts would also slowly begin to die down.

So, Lederfanc decided to have all the captives in tribe headquarters sent to Squirrel Village as labourers. Apart from the recovered captives, he also planned to give Claude custody of the insurgent captives. But he reminded Claude to not only focus on the village itself, but also revamp the mountain path to allow for quicker transportation of resources.

After another three long days of interrogating captives, the verdict was that the report was believable. A few officers of the joint investigation committee who stubbornly refused to admit it used their final move: they requested to see the corpses of the enemies to ensure the number buried was consistent with the reports.

Claude couldn't admire Lederfanc more for his thoroughness. He even felt so touched he almost cried. The first time Lederfanc checked the battle results, he foresaw such a situation and made sure to make a detailed map with grave markers. He even had the corpses transported and lined up properly before burial.

It had been two months since the burial and the weather gradually turned hot. The unearthed corpses let out a rotting stench that caused everyone there to puke. Claude got a few clean linen cloths out of the warehouse and cut them into smaller pieces for the soldiers and captives to wear to mitigate the stench and also instructed Myjack to prepare sanitising products for the men to use during bath after they were done to prevent a plague.

When Lederfanc ordered for the corpses to be buried, he had them stacked up neatly and aligned their head and feet. Each pair of layers was separated by a grass mat. Every grave was marked with the exact number of corpses buried there and each grave pit was separated by a two-metre distance. As such, the number of graves and their sizes could be approximated without accounting for every corpse. But that fact was cited by the joint investigation committee as possible proof of fabrication. Despite that, nobody was willing to unearth every single worm-filled, rotting corpse.

So, they settled on only digging up the top layer of mud to reveal the first corpse beneath the ground and digging out the dirt from the two-metre separation between the mass graves so that the stacks of corpses could be seen from the side. The number of corpses in each mass grave was clearly recorded in the reports and after verifying more than ten mass graves, even Captain Skri couldn't take it any longer and declared Lederfanc's report to be trustworthy. There was no need to continue digging out the mass graves. The members of the investigation committee that went down between the graves to count the corpses lost all appetite and couldn't stomach anything.

Despite that, Major Lederfanc refused to call it off. He insisted each and every mass grave be checked and accounted for so that no further doubt of the victorious battle could be cast in future. This matter was something that had to do with the pride and reputation of 1st Ranger Tribe. Under his insistence, the joint investigation committee could only continue to clench their noses as they worked away, vomiting from time to time. They managed to finish verifying all the mass graves and each and every one of the staff officers signed their names to acknowledge the miraculous victory.

After half a month, the committee that had arrived in such an imposing manner left like sick quails with their heads down the entire time. They were unable to find the slightest bit of proof that the battle was forged and didn't eat well after unearthing those graves. The soldiers who participated in the battle on the other hand absolutely couldn't stand the self-absorbed staff officers who all thought themselves to be military geniuses.

One such soldier told the staff officers during the interrogation that just because their simulations couldn't achieve the same result, that didn't mean others couldn't. He said he didn't believe Claude could hold Squirrel Village when faced with so many foes either, but he witnessed it happen before his very own eyes. Every one of the soldiers respected Claude deeply because he held their safety as paramount instead of using them as cannon fodder to further his career.

It was from that moment onward that the staff officers from the committee noticed the berating look the soldiers cast on them. Their blatantly cursory salutes and silent whispers seemed to suggest the staff officers were being mocked for their envy and jealousy, much to their distress. They quickly left after they wrapped up their investigation.

Captain Skri personally handed the results of the investigation to Prince Hansbach.

"So this victory is undoubtedly true?" the prince asked.

"Yes, Your Highness. It is indeed a miraculous, undoubtable victory. This is the detailed battle report. Second Lieutenant Claude had clearly explained the tactics and plans he used throughout the battle."

Prince Hansbach took the report impatiently. "I see... So he used the terrain to his advantage to stop the Canasian nobles from attacking from the mountain path. The plan to set fire to Squirrel Village was initially only a countermeasure for the Askilinian nobles' forces, but the Canasian forces unexpectedly joined up with the Asklinian forces, so he had to adjust his plans to set up a defence line at the rear mountain of the village to wear down the enemy troops before retreating back to base to lure the enemy into the village. Then, he used heated cannonballs to start the fire...

"Not bad. Not bad at all. Claude really is a talented fellow. His plans really were out of the box. It was a happy coincidence that the nobles went along with it by constructing so many shield carts to lock themselves in. They really did a number on themselves." Hansbach turned around. "By the way, Skri, how does the ministry of the army plan to reward this Claude?"

"Your Highness, according to military regulation, an officer of his rank can earn one first-class merit for every thousand enemies eradicated. Based on this battle, Second Lieutenant Claude would earn five first-class merits. His success of securing his base despite such a huge numerical disparity also affords him two first-class merits. Together, Second Lieutenant Claude might be promoted all the way to major."

Captain Skri paused, before he continued. "But this promotion and reward has incurred the objections of many other officers who think him too young. He's only 21, and they believe him unfit to serve as major. Additionally, the enemies he exterminated were only conscripted peasants and private soldiers of the nobles. They number a lot, but they are relatively weak. So, they request for the merits to be decreased so that Second Lieutenant Claude will only be promoted to First Lieutenant. He still has many opportunities ahead of him, according to them, since he's still young."

Chapter 266 - Knighthood

Bam! Prince Hansbach slammed the table. "This is preposterous, and an obvious sign of jealousy and envy for talent! Didn't the staff officers run multiple tactical simulations and call it an unwinnable battle? They were so certain that the report was faked. But now, it has come to light that someone else could achieve what they couldn't dream of. Didn't the joint investigation committee travel that far to verify the whole thing? They also went through all the corpses to make sure the numbers are correct. Can they be more ridiculous in their demands?"

The first prince was fuming and a little disappointed in his officers on the front. Most officers there were talented youths he decided to cultivate. Some of them had wanted to serve him on their own accord and there were some noble descendants who were recommended to those positions as well. Yet, he didn't think that such a landslide victory would cause so much commotion among the officers in frontline command to the point that it clouded their rational minds.

"I really don't understand how they think. How could we ever underplay military achievements? I believe some of them are becoming too comfortable sitting in their commanding posts. I should send some of them to the frontlines with the troops so that they understand what kind of officers the army needs. They can see for themselves the situation on the frontlines instead of remaining in their offices and doing nothing but mouthing off on others!" The first prince began pacing about in his room.

A knock sounded on the door and Captain Skri went to open it. The one who came in was General Miselk Kor Priest, the first prince's most trusted aid. He was also the new chief strategist of Bluefeather. The plan to build a path through Pikleit Mountains to attack the three southern prefectures and the ambush that wiped out the folk of Alliance troops at Columbo Valley were all devised by him.

When he was given recognition for his contributions last year, Miselk earned another gold star on his shoulder mark and was promoted from major-general to lieutenant-general. At the same time, he earned an honorary Title bequeathed by the king himself, rising from the peasant class straight into nobility as a baron.

Nobody knew how Prince Hansbach managed to get a military historian professor from the royal capital to become his aide. Regardless, Miselk was still the most talented man Prince Hansbach managed to recruit throughout the current war. His plans managed to capitalise on Alliance's weaknesses. In battles fought on land, Aueras' forces always held the initiative and advantage and the Alliance slowly gave ground until they entered a stalemate.

The prince had summoned Miselk to discuss their upcoming strategic objectives. Now that the path through Pikleit Mountains had been restored, reinforcements and supplies poured nonstop into the three prefectures. The two defence lines on the frontlines were stabilised and they would have to consider which locale to attack next to put the kingdom in a more advantageous position.

"What angered His Highness so?" Miselk asked Skri.

Captain Skri quietly summarised the lieutenant-general on the matter. Miselk seemed to take an interest in it. "Let me see the battle report. I heard about this matter, but I had thought it to be a fabricated lie. I didn't think there really could be such a miraculous victory. How did this Second Lieutenant Claude do it?"

Unlike how the prince read the report, Miselk had a map of the area near Squirrel Village with him as he read the report and marked it from time to time. It was as if he was simulating the battle according to what happened. When he finished, he found the prince standing next to him, looking at the markings he made on the map.

"What do you think?" the prince asked ambiguously.

But Miselk understood the question perfectly well. He nodded and said, "He's born to be a soldier and is really talented. Nurturing him will be worth it. I see that he hasn't been educated formally in military doctrine. He's good at defensive battles and put the terrain around Squirrel Village to his utmost advantage all the while making sure his casualties are low. The officers that graduate from our war college, on the other hand, are more aggressive and care less about the loss of subordinates. Maybe that's why they haven't been able to succeed in obtaining victory in their simulations of the battle."

"What about you? How would you fight this battle?" Prince Hansbach asked.

The lieutenant-general smiled resignedly. "I might not be able to compare to Second Lieutenant Claude in terms of defensive tactics. While I would take advantage of the terrain to stop the enemies, I wouldn't be able to dig trap holes to cut off the mountain paths completely to stop the enemy from advancing. However, I would take the initiative and attack the noble forces on Askilin's side. There's only one tribe of enemies there and our side is armed with three light-infantry cannons. It's entirely possible to find advantageous terrain to mount the cannons and decimate our enemies from there. The battered enemy troops would be much easier to deal with, but this tactic would entail serious casualties on our side."

"How do you think we should reward this Claude then? He can be promoted all the way to major with his achievements, but the ministry of the army wants to undermine his contributions with the reason that he's still young, and because the enemies he fought were only private noble soldiers and peasant conscripts with low fighting capability. They say that even if the nobles manage to find their way into the three southern prefectures, they wouldn't have a significant effect on the tide of war, so they plan to only promote Claude by one rank to first lieutenant."

Miselk shook his head.

"Your Highness, military contribution should never be undermined. It's the cornerstone of our military and the guarantee that the spirit of our military will continue to be passed on. If Second Lieutenant Claude's achievements are undermined, we can't spread word of our victory. In fact, we can't mention this battle at all. Otherwise, the officers would start to question whether they're intentionally being suppressed and doubt the fairness of the merit system.

"I even worry this would open doors for those who would use this battle report as proof that frontline troops who risk their lives for our victory aren't rewarded, while the corrupt military officers sitting in the rear gain all the benefits. It's almost certain to happen. The late king, Stellin IX, also stressed that the recording and rewarding of military achievement must be fair and just so that our forces' might will be preserved and the baseline officers would be motivated to work hard and aim for the top."

"You mean we should promote Claude to major based on the merits he earned? He's too young. The kingdom has never had a 21-year-old major. I worry he would be doubted even more. This won't be good for his future growth. My father told me being too talented isn't a good thing, because it invites jealousy and envy. Sometimes, one can't defend against a poisoned arrow fired from the shadows."

"Yes, Your Highness. I personally had quite a lot of unfortunate encounters due to others' envy," Miselk agreed, "He's still 21. I was just a sergeant at his age. He has only been in the army for three years on top of that and hasn't been officially schooled in military doctrine. It wouldn't be appropriate to make him major.

"And given his peasant status and lack of military experience, it's quite probable he would be ostracised by the other officers around his rank. At best we should make him a captain. While we can't skimp on his achievements, we can compensate for it with something else. In fact, I think the sheer odds he overcame to achieve this victory qualifies him for knighthood."

"Knighthood?" The prince was taken aback. He clapped his hands delightedly. "That's right! How could I forget? Well said, Miselk. We can't skimp on rewarding him. We can just make it up with compensation in some other form. Knighting him will be enough! Skri, record my orders down."

"Yes, Your Highness." Skri wore a look of envy.

If possible, he would rather Claude be promoted straight to major. He was fine with it even if it meant Claude would outrank him. But now, while Claude would only be promoted to captain, he was to be knighted. That was more than enough to cause the eyes of those staff officers in the ministry to green with jealousy and regret.

They had intentionally suggested Claude be promoted by only one rank. Prince Hansbach felt it was inappropriate and promoted Claude to captain. That way, Claude wouldn't go straight to major and the bastards would save face. On top of that they weren't the ones to actually hold back his full promotion, the prince was, so they could wash their hands of it. Little did they know the prince would make it up with a knighthood.

Like the members of the House of Dignitarians who used 'sir' as their title, knights in the Aueran military were quasi-nobles. It was rare for a knight to not eventually become a full noble, if only an honorary one in most cases. If Clause was knighted, he would be Sir Claude Ferd, and would officially have the capacity to attend events restricted only to nobility. It would also mean that he was the senior of anyone of the same rank, and had to be handled with respect even by those one rank his superior. If he was to act together with another captain, for example, he would be the de facto commanding officer, even if the other had more experience than him.

"To reward 1st Ranger Tribe for defending... err... what was that area called again?"

"It has no name, Your Highness. Most of the locals call it the mountain-crossing. The Duchy of Askilin considers it part of the three southern prefectures and mark it as the southern mountains on their maps," Captain Skri said.

"Alright, just call it the southern mountain crossing, then. To reward 1st Ranger Tribe for defending the southern mountain crossing despite being severely outnumbered and successfully driving back the nobles of Askilin and Canas, thwarting their plans to raid the three southern prefectures, all the tribe's officers are to be awarded a first-class merit.

"The 170-odd soldiers defending Squirrel Village against the two noble armies that number more than five thousand without fear committed a valorous resistance. Under the instructions of Second Lieutenant Claude, they managed to defeat the enemy and exterminate near five thousand of their numbers in a miraculous feat.

"In my name, all soldiers that participated in the battle are to be promoted one rank. Injured soldiers will be compensated with extra pension. Second Lieutenant Claude with his courage and wit managed to earn outstanding merits from this battle and is promoted straight to captain and conferred the Title of knight to highlight his outstanding contributions on the battlefield."

Skri handed the order he wrote down to the prince to check and had him sign and stamp his seal. That closed the curtain on all matters pertaining to that battle. As the highest commanding officer on the frontlines, the first prince has given his final say to the rewards for the soldiers involved in that battle.

"If possible, Your Highness, I want the whole process of this war to be included in our war college syllabus. It is a perfect case study of a siege which is worthy of rigorous study. And when the war ends, I hope to invite Captain Claude to the Stellin War College in the royal capital for training. I believe he'll be a huge help to Your Highness in the future," Miselk requested.

Prince Hansbach sighed. "With his knighthood, he's more than qualified to be trained in the war college. However, nobody can say when the war will end. Rimodra is being attacked from both fronts by us and is still struggling in its final moments. Askilin already know they won't be able to break our defence lines in the three southern prefectures and are beginning to form their own defence line in Eastern Askilin. They are waiting for a chance to turn the tides of war.

"Canas is still providing the Alliance with light cavalry and conscripting more herders to form new light-cavalry corps. Nasri is still holding on desperately and Reddragon has been powerless to break through their turtle-shell defence line. I called you here to discuss which targets we should attack next to accelerate our path to victory."

Miselk walked to the large map hanging on the wall. "So far, the situation has stabilised. Due to the successful reconstruction of Pikleit Mountains' path, reinforcements have begun entering the three southern prefectures. While the Alliance's forces in Rimodra still number a lot, they have the lower hand in battle. Their attacks lack momentum but their defences are still sufficient. The reason they can still hold on is thanks to their uninterrupted maritime supply routes. They are able to be replenished in men and supplies quickly.

"We can decrease the intensity of our attacks and use an encirclement strategy. Half of Rimodra's territory is in our hands and there are so many Alliance soldiers in the other half. They have nothing to rely on but their shipping routes, and even then, they wouldn't be able to feed that many soldiers if enough time passes.

"We can first focus our efforts on exterminating Askilin and putting pressure on Canas next. If word of this gets out, the Askilin forces and Canas light cavalrymen in Rimodra would be greatly disturbed. I believe an opportunity for us to completely crush Rimodra would show itself soon."

Chapter 267 - Role Reassignment

Lederfanc brought another tent to the camp. He was there to inform Claude of his promotion and grant him his knighthood.

"You really lucked out this time, kid. I didn't think His Highness would actually grant you a knighthood."

Lederfanc wore an envious expression. Perhaps he would be less taken aback if Claude was promoted to major instead of being given a knighthood.

As part of 1st Ranger Tribe, Lederfanc had also received one first-class merit like all the others. He needed only one more to earn a promotion to lieutenant-colonel. With the reinforcements now coming into the three southern prefectures, he left the checkpoints to the keeper tribes and had two clans launch a rebel sweep of the area. The results were rather good and security in the area was strengthening. By the end of the year, he might be able to earn a silver crescent-moon on his shoulder mark.

Claude, however, was ignorant of what being knighted entailed. Was it the same kind of award given through an honours system like on Earth? Or was it worth money? His boss on earth had gone to Russia and spent a huge sum to purchase a military uniform from the Soviet days with over ten decorations. The North Korean soldiers wore so many decorations for their parades they looked like olden days' armor. He didn't think there were orders of merit for knighthoods in this world.

Lederfanc sighed at his subordinate's ignorance, though he wasn't surprised. Claude had only the most superficial of experiences with military hierarchy. He'd gone straight from the drill yards to the battlefield.

Normal grunts would only hear about the value of obtaining an order of merit after climbing the ranks over several years, after which they would strive hard to earn some. The war had broken out for nearly three years and Claude had spent most of the time at the frontlines. He didn't have time to learn up on the basics and nobody bothered to tell him either.

Lederfanc explained the meaning of obtaining a knighthood to Claude. It meant that he was already halfway into the noble circle of the kingdom. In fact, in the Kingdom of Aueras, bearers of the knight order commanded even more respect that nobles who inherited their Titles. Normal nobles inherited their Titles from their fathers, while knights earned their order through unquestionable contributions on the battlefield, often having to risk their lives and show great courage to earn that honour.

The badge was placed within a little, flat box. Upon opening, a black, round badge could be seen on the violet velvet cushion. The badge depicted a gunner on horseback aiming. Three centimetres across, it wasn't very eye-catching. It looked just like a normal memorial coin.

Major Lederfanc couldn't tear his eyes away from it, however. He muttered he would have no more regrets if he got the same order of merit. He would die a proud and happy man.

Claude joked about giving it to him instead, but the major glared at him more furiously than he'd expected and warned him that such jokes might just see him dishonourably discharged. It was a criminal offence to hand one's order to anyone. Only the designated holder of the order was allowed to wield it. The person to whom he gave it would also suffer. Fraudulent possession of an order carried a ten-year penal labour sentence at the lower end, and a death sentence at the higher end.

"This is a badge, so you can keep it or wear it on your chest," Lederfanc said as he unwillingly handed the little box over. "When you have it on, others shall address you as Sir Knight, regardless of whether you're among civilians or military personnel. But if you don't wear it, the others can address you by your name instead of Sir Claude."

"Wait, Sir, what does this order represent?" Claude asked.

Lederfanc sighed a laughed.

"There's the badge, and there's the actual medal. Don't tell me you thought the knighthood was a small thing? The real medal's as big as a child's palm and made entirely of gold with a violet ribbon. You'll have to wait until the end of the year for it. His Highness only confers it during an annual award ceremony at the end of each year. The medal itself isn't worn since it's too cumbersome, especially for a soldier, so you have the badge instead. It isn't flashy, but has all the authority of the order itself."

He didn't think there was so much to military decorations. Since they were on the topic, he asked the major to pin the badge on his uniform so that he would remember its position, lest he wore it wrongly the next time.

After that came the promotion. It was a simple affair. He only had to switch out his shoulder mark for a captain's with three black stars. As for the certifying documents, Lederfanc had prepared all of them and all Claude had to do was to sign them. Lastly came the prize money. Claude received more than sixty crowns for his achievement and promotion. The major joked that Claude could get rich if he could win a few more such battles.

After all that was said and done, it was the others' turn for the promotion. The first prince awarded all soldiers that participated in battle a one-rank promotion and the whole of 1st Ranger Tribe was given first-class merits. As Claude jumped straight to captain from his promotion, he wasn't included in the tribe-wide promotion, but he still earned the first-class merit. He needed only two more to be promoted to major.

Lederfanc brought a clan of men from the headquarters to simplify the promotion and merit-giving. He personally tended to Claude's matters and delegated tasks to his men to handle the awards to the other 130-odd soldiers. It took the better part of the day before it could be completed.

Apart from Claude's subordinates, Mazik, Moriad, and Dyavid, who were promoted to second lieutenant, two tentsmen were promoted to second lieutenant, much to Mazik's annoyance. The two used to be his subordinates, but now they were his peers.

He could do nothing, however, as the two now had the requisite merit count. They received two promotions, one thanks to their merits, and another thanks to their participation in the battle.

Lederfanc held a tribe meeting with Claude to discuss the roles in the tribe. Due to the promotion, the sergeants, sergeants-major and staff-sergeants under Claude were double the number in the other bands. They were all elite troops, so Lederfanc decided to transfer some of them to other clans and bands to take up leadership positions. Claude had too many officers under him, anyway.

After taking Blackmaple Castle and seeking the path to the three southern prefectures, 1st Rangers had had to quell rebellions and drive the nobles from Askilin and Canas away. They haven't been able to replenish the men they lost and had more than two hundred vacancies, around a whole clan. Now that reinforcements from the rear had arrived, the top notified them that they could get fresh recruits. However, some of the officers among them had to be transferred to Bluefeather.

Oddly enough, the officers to be transferred out of 1st Rangers didn't include the people who fought the nobles from the two duchies under Claude. As tribesman, Lederfanc had to redistribute them to fill the empty positions elsewhere.

If Mazik, Moriad, and Dyavid, who were away quelling rebellions, were willing, they could take up posts as bandsman in other clans. But all three refused. They chose instead to remain under Claude's command, mostly because he didn't just throw them away as cannon fodder as was all too common for commanders of his rank to do.

This time, Claude had an official post and took up the position of 1st Clan's clansman. It was the first appointment made after Lederfanc brought in the recruits to bolster the tribe's ranks. Lederfanc was worried he might be moved out of the unit after his promotion, and he wanted to ensure Claude would be his successor should that happen. As 1st Clan's clansman, Claude was his de facto second-in-command and stood first in line to take over should he be moved out.

1st Clan was an attack unit. Apart from the four bands in the clan, there was another band of cannoneers equipped with eight light-infantry cannons. The clan still wasn't properly staffed yet, however. Apart from Mazik, Moriad and Dyavid's incomplete bands and fifteen cannoneers with three cannons, the other men and equipment would only arrive in half a month's time. By then, new low-ranked officers would be required. Claude would have to pick the ones to lead his men.

Lederfanc returned to his post with two newly promoted second lieutenants, five sergeants-major, fourteen sergeants and eighteen staff-sergeants. Claude could only watch them leave in resignation. He wasn't too happy to part with the men he fought so long together with, but there was no choice. The tribe had to be reorganised and he could only try his best to cultivate more officers. 1st Rangers was practically his now and he couldn't let down the trust Lederfanc placed in him.

Dyavid returned to Squirrel Village one week later. He lost more than ten men from his band through suppressing the rebellions, but the injured had been sent to get treatment. Lederfanc agreed to send him more men to fill up the vacancies as soon as possible.

The new troops and equipment would only arrive some ten days later, and Claude's current assignment was to defend the mountain path. The band that had been stationed at the entrance of the path had been recalled to tribe headquarters, so he decided to let Dyavid's band guard it. He stationed a tent of men in Blackstone Village and had the rest of his men train in Squirrel Village. Mazik, on the other hand, commanded a band of men to watch over the 400 plus labourers as they worked whereas Moriad took charge of training the replacement soldiers. The cannoneers were training at the valley nearby.

Soon came the 9th month. The three-month-long training of the recruits had concluded and everything in the camp was going well. The captives managed to cultivate near 20 hectares of farmland and the mountain path had been repaired all the way to Blackstone. Claude decided to have the labourers continue mending the stretches of the path further away. Since they had nothing better to do, they might as well revamp the path all the way from Squirrel Village to the pass at the three southern prefectures. They had to work to earn their food, after all.

As the village got so much additional farmland, the village chief became the richest man in it. He was the one who paid the captives to cultivate the land, so all of it belonged to him. The business with his tavern was also going well, so he hired three more young women to serve as barmaids in his tavern to attract the soldiers in the camp to spend their hard-earned money.

The rest of the villagers also found their respective vocations. Some cultivated farmland in the mountains to plant vegetables to supply to the camp's cafeteria while others herded livestock. Some villagers even planted large orchards in the mountains, but the time required for that investment to pay off was much longer.

Some smarter ones went to other villages in the mountains to buy goods and resold them to Claude or the chief. Claude usually bought some rarer stuff and got Myjack to sell them off in town to larger merchants once he hoarded a good supply. The chief, on the other hand, bought cheaper stuff as ingredients for the food in his tavern.

Claude spent those days in relative peace. He had never thought that he would be able to experience such tranquility even though the war was still raging on. It was heaven on earth. The whole tribe as a whole didn't receive any combat assignments either, as if the top had forgotten about them. Lederfanc requested combat assignments a number of times, but the orders he received in return stressed that 1st Ranger Tribe's mission was to rest, recover and restabilise, nothing more.

Chapter 268 - Grand Gathering

"Our tribe was involved all because of you..." Lederfanc complained, "Do you know why we've been treated as a keeper tribe and have not been given a combat assignment yet?"

Claude shook his head innocently. He didn't know what was going on at all. His strengthened clan had been stationed in Squirrel Village for half a year. It was near the year's end, yet there had been no combat missions for them, as if their existence had been forgotten entirely. According to Lederfanc, the kingdom had begun its counterattack on Eastern Askilin with two of its irregular corps.

Currently, the Duchy of Askilin's newly formed corps couldn't resist Aueras' two irregular corps' beating at all. They were like leaves at the mercy of the winds. They were either defeated or forced to surrender. Currently, Askilin's capital, Bravisosburg, was surrounded by the kingdom's forces. The siege might succeed come spring next year and that would mark the end of the Alliance.

As the tribesman of 1st Rangers, Lederfanc wanted to earn more merits in Askilin. Most of Askilin's elites were in Rimodra, so it was the perfect chance to earn some cheap merits. The kingdom's two irregular corps had no trouble at all breaking through the defence lines those nobles set up and exterminated their enemies in the blink of an eye. In other words, they were completely incompetent.

Even 2nd Ranger Tribe and 3rd Ranger Tribe who came to the three southern prefectures later were included in the attacks on Eastern Askilin. Those two combat units under direct instruction from frontline command swept through the noble dominions in that area. For the past half a year, news of them breaking into noble castles could be heard intermittently.

Lederfanc couldn't stand being in such a situation. 1st Ranger Tribe was fully restaffed and resupplied. The new recruits' training was also completed and their morale was high. The local rebellions had also stopped. 1st Rangers was wasting away. Even though they were perfectly ready for joining the final battle in Eastern Askilin, why would nobody use them?

In fact, they held the path leading from the three southern prefectures straight into Eastern Askilin. They could launch their attack on the path to cut off the connection between Canas and Askilin to prevent the two duchies from communicating. The moment they were given the order, Claude and his 1st Clan could be deployed as the vanguard to breach into the zone between the two duchies.

Of all the repercussions the battle report generated, Lederfanc certainly didn't imagine this to be one of them. He made so many submissions to be deployed that he received a reprimanding letter from frontline command, which once more emphasised that 1st Ranger Tribe only had to prevent the troops of both duchies from passing through the mountain path to cause trouble in the three southern prefectures.

Lederfanc didn't understand at all why a combat unit like them was tasked with something even a keeper tribe could handle. Not to mention, the Canasian nobles were still back home licking their wounds. There was no way they could possibly come back that soon, and the Askilinian nobles fared even worse. According to informants, the nobles that returned to Askilin were either imprisoned by Duke Askilin or forced to sell off their property to pay for their crimes. Additionally, their duchy was being attacked by the rest of Aueras' forces, so how could they spare any more people to target the mountain path?

Regardless, Lederfanc was still a close subordinate to Prince Hansbach. He had earned the prince's favour with his staunch loyalty and was made the logistics officer of the ranger tribe in its experimental days, before he was promoted to tribesman of 1st Rangers. He still had close associates on the frontlines and upon inquiring about their predicament, he received an answer that completely baffled him.

"It's all because of the battle in Squirrel! It caused too huge of an uproar! Not only were you promoted straight to captain, you were even knighted! You're the youngest captain in the kingdom's history, army or navy! The entire army is envious of you! They don't want to give us any combat assignments because they don't want to give you another chance to rise even higher!"

Upon hearing the revelation, Claude looked at him innocently, the question, 'and that's supposed to be my fault?', implied.

It couldn't, in fact, be blamed on him. Lederfanc sighed deeply. He was an officer that served under the prince and understood the others who served the prince as well. They were naturally talented in their own right. Otherwise, he wouldn't be working for the prince in the first place. However, the young and haughty officers all thought themselves better than their peers, had grandiose theoretical plans and never yielded to others.

The prince was served by many young officers, but even they were much older than Claude. Most were between 26 and 30 and the highest-ranked was a lieutenant-colonel. Most were second lieutenants and above, and had served at least five years. There were even three factions. One were the nobles, who wielded the most influence. They had impressive military careers and were clearly informed on the kingdom's military capabilities.

The second was made up of peasants who had graduated from the war college. They joined the army to climb the social ladder and were ambitious and thorough. Lederfanc used to be part of that faction. The other faction was comprised of low-ranked officers selected by the prince himself to serve. While they didn't have proper military education, their talents still shone bright. That was the smallest faction and they got along the worst with the nobles and often got into conflicts.

Influential and appreciative of talent as Prince Hansbach was, he couldn't prevent the friction between his subordinates. Though, one could argue that was exactly what he wanted. Those on the top wanted their subordinates to compete, after all, instead of uniting to become an immovable metal brick. Only through the strife could one truly see who really stood out.

It came as a shock for the young officers when the first prince appointed Lederfanc to be the logistics officer of the ranger tribe. Everyone knew that the ranger tribe was an experimental unit formed by the prince and should it ever succeed, one's career path would be bright, so many of them wanted a post there.

But nobody imagined that Lederfanc would be the one to get it. Among the other officers, Lederfanc didn't really stand out. He was quiet and seldom expressed any fresh opinions. The only characteristic that distinguished him was his attention to detail and responsibility. No accounts under his review had any mistakes. His appointment to the post saw him promoted to major quickly and made a tribesman whereas his fellow officers were still ranked captain and below and had to salute to him when they met.

At the sight of Claude's young face, Lederfanc suddenly remembered the other young first and second lieutenants he used to work with. Now, they had to salute both himself and Claude. They were certain to be quite dissatisfied from that. But what he was certain was that his former colleagues had made a mistake. Talent couldn't be that easily hidden from others. Since the first prince awarded Claude with a knighthood, that meant Claude made an impression on him. Perhaps in a few years, if Claude was lucky enough to survive unharmed, he would even supersede Lederfanc.

However, the major wasn't envious in the slightest. Everyone had their own strengths. What was important was to not compare one's weaknesses to the strengths of others. Even if a hammer was kept in a sack with other rocks, it would eventually be taken out. And after a few hits, the hammer would show its shine. In fact, Lederfanc was only able to become major because of his subordinates. He recalled something the first prince said. An officer's responsibility is not to storm the battlefield with his men. His real duty is to enable his subordinates to fight at their best.

Now that Claude got the attention of the prince, which faction would he belong in if he was transferred to serve him? Lederfanc reasoned that he should be one of the third faction of low-ranked officers, but that didn't quite fit, as he was already a quasi noble after being awarded a knighthood. The noble faction probably wouldn't welcome him either. If they did, they wouldn't have suppressed the 1st Rangers' request to be deployed in combat.

"Sir, it's getting rather late and snow is falling. Are we going to lodge in this village for the night?" Claude asked, derailing Lederfanc's train of thought.

The two were en route to Pacasia, the capital of Pauralto, one of the three southern prefectures. Prince Hansbach held a celebratory banquet there and would award Claude personally with his knighthood order of merit. Lederfanc would also be promoted to lieutenant-colonel as he had wanted, so it was imperative that they arrived on time.

Claude brought only Gum and Myjack with him while Lederfanc brought a tent of guards. All of them travelled with haste on horseback. Due to the snow, they needed at least two days to arrive. But given that the prefectures were stable, they would be safe on their journey. Even so, the ones at the checkpoints along the way were still tense from the war.

Pacasia was heavily guarded as well. Claude and the rest were checked for their identity and registered before they were led into a camp by a keeper.

There were still two days before the celebration. Lederfanc said that he had come earlier after he considered that the prince might want to have an audience with them. But apparently, his worries were unnecessary. Prince Hansbach was probably too busy to meet the two of them.

Nevertheless, Claude wouldn't have it any other way. He had the time he needed to go around the city shopping with Gum and Myjack. The city was a little too orderly, perhaps because of the presence of the prince, and the market area was incredibly merry with all sorts of goods on display. Almost all the shops were open, the lights within spilling onto the road outside.

He bought a large bunch of stuff, most of them for his little lover Sheila. The heaviest of the bunch were books to add to her cave collection. The rest were mostly daily necessities, some beautiful dresses as well as accessories. He believed she would be overjoyed to receive them and the fire of their relationship would burn even brighter.

Claude wanted to go out the next day too, but he was stopped by Lederfanc just as he was about to leave. The banquet would take place that night, after all, so he had to be prepared.

The preparation entailed getting his hair done, washing up, and changing into a brand new set of military uniform. Not a speck of dirt was permitted on the boots and his belt had to be polished to a shine. His hat also had to be prim and firm. He put them all on and checked the mirror to see if anything was out of place, before getting Lederfanc to double-check.

When all of that was done, everyone ate some white bread to fill their stomachs before going to wait in the camp. The carriage would come later to transport the awardees to the banquet.

The wait was rather long. After an hour, a second lieutenant in charge of transporting them came up to them for a salute, before inviting Claude and Lederfanc to leave. Gum, Myjack and the tent of guards were to stay in the camp obediently. That night, the city was under curfew and nobody was allowed to go out as they pleased.

The venue for the banquet was the city hall. According to the second lieutenant, there were more than three hundred participants, all officers who've distinguished themselves in battle. They were there to receive their promotions formally from the first prince and the generals of the corps.

After looking Claude in the eye enviously, the second lieutenant said three others had been knighted. Two were from the royal guard and one from Bluefeather. General Miselk Priest was also to be promoted to a full-fledged noble.

Chapter 269 - Coincidental Reunion

According to the second lieutenant who had transported them, more than three hundred officers who had distinguished themselves would given awards. However, the man didn't mention the number of guests.

Claude only found out after he entered the hall how huge the venue was, not to mention the incredible decorations. The second lieutenant mentioned that this used to be where the city guard trained. The first prince had erected a roof over the venue for the banquet.

Claude couldn't tell that it was a training field at all. He even thought it was a palace. It was as large as one, at least. The ground was laden with smooth and beautiful tiles which probably had heat piping going through them underneath as it wasn't the slightest bit cold, despite the vast space.

However, that large hall was filled with people. Apart from those dressed in Aueran military attire, there were several middle-aged to senior men in black formal wear, chaperoned by many a dolled up beauty.

"These are the big figures and their relatives. His Highness has high hopes on the prosperity and stable development of the three southern prefectures and wishes they will become a military-industrial region. They've aligned themselves to our kingdom and are willing to support our efforts, so His Highness has invited them to the ceremony. Those ladies are their family. If you are unmarried, it would do you well to get to know them. Who knows? You might marry into an affluent family."

The meaning behind the second lieutenant's words was clear to Claude and Lederfanc. He meant to emphasise that those beautiful chaperones were the relatives of the bigwigs, not maidservants. If they were serious, perhaps they could court the ladies. But it would be best not to take them for a casual fling. The second lieutenant had subtly reminded them to not cause any trouble for the first prince, lest they all get in trouble.

The celebration was indirectly a large mixer. The best way to get the three prefectures' bigwigs on Aueras' side was to bond them to loyal nobles and other major figures through marriage. While it would be preposterous for people of their status to even consider marrying into the Stellin royal family, taking a step back and forming unions with promising officers from the kingdom was still a good idea. In some way, it would also be securing insurance for their households.

The second lieutenant left after he took the two to register. They were each handed a piece of paper of their positions, which they had to remember. They would have to get in place immediately when the celebration begins.

Since there was still time, Lederfanc brought Claude to the side of the venue and got them both some fruit wine. From time to time, officers they were acquainted with came to greet Lederfanc, but his eyes had always been trailed on the beauties who had come to observe the ceremony.

Claude asked, "Feeling like it?"

Lederfanc nodded frankly.

"A little. I'll be thirty in another year. I'm not young anymore. After hearing what the second lieutenant said, I suddenly have the urge to start a family. After my promotion to lieutenant-colonel, I'll have established myself and be a worthy husband.

"Well, there's much we can't predict. When I was still in the war college in my twenties, I enlisted in the army as a second lieutenant. I was only promoted to captain at the age of 27 and can be considered the more high-achieving among my peers. As I'm in charge of logistics, I would only be promoted to major soonest by the age of 35. I had been counting on that promotion before I return home to find a woman to marry to answer my family's expectations.

"But later, His Highness noticed me and took me in to be one of his attendant officers. I was placed in charge of matters relating to auditing, and two years later, I was promoted to be the logistics officer of the experimental ranger tribe His Highness formed. The rest went rather smoothly. Thanks to you, Claude, I was promoted to major and made the tribesman of 1st Rangers. And now, I got promoted to lieutenant-colonel again thanks to your efforts. It still feels like a dream to me, to think I would be promoted twice in just two years.

"Thanks to this, I've reached my goal four or five years ahead of schedule, and I can probably get a woman with better status and standing. Now, it doesn't just have to be a town girl. The bigwigs' women are good matches since their families are owners of farms and the like. They probably own some shares in the military factories, or have their own workshops. These women come from rather wealthy and influential families."

Since Lederfanc had decided on looking for a mate, Claude checked out the women with him and offered his comments. However, all Lederfanc wanted was someone virtuous who could look after the house. It was too bad that he wasn't able to see any that sparked his interest right away, however.

Just like that, an hour passed. The celebration was just about to start. Claude and Lederfanc hurriedly got into their positions and stood at attention.

The 300 plus awardees stood in a neat square in the centre of the venue whereas the guests flanked them. The women would shoot dazzling stares at the officers standing at attention, but none of them responded to their flirtatious glances. The young officers all looked like wooden statues with their stern expressions. They only glanced at their sides from time to time without turning their heads.

The proceedings of the ceremony were rather similar to those in Claude's old life. One general went on stage first and introduced himself as the head of frontline command. He was the one who was in charge of recognising the merits earned by the officers present. After a long, drawn-out 20-minute speech to recount the amazing performance of their army during the past year, he announced in a bright, loud voice, "Let us welcome Prince Hansbach Tam Stellin to host the award ceremony!"

The guests applauded the announcement and the flashy women curtsied while the officers saluted.

The first prince stepped onto the wooden podium with ten plus generals following behind him. They stood behind him in a long row and left a space in the middle.

The prince didn't drone on like the head of frontline command. He only gave simple praise to the army for its achievements and announced the start of the ceremony.

Two first lieutenants stepped up to both sides of the podium and began to announce one name after another loudly and stating what they were promoted for. All named officers had to march up the podium to obtain the shoulder mark from the prince and the generals personally. At the same time, more than ten second lieutenants walked onto the platform with a silver platter covered with a red velvet cloth and stopped beside each general. There were stacks upon stacks of shoulder marks on the platter.

Lederfanc was among the fifth batch to be called out. He was promoted for good command and responsibly defending his post. Claude noted that his shoulder mark was given to him by the first prince. After that, the prince even patted him on the shoulder full of smiles and spoke a few words to him. Before he stepped off the stage, he couldn't hold back his tears from being moved and bowed respectfully.

As the award ceremony (read: shoulder mark exchange) went on, Claude suddenly noticed a troubling fact. There were many captains like him in the venue initially. But as it went on, one after another was called out and eventually, he was the only one left. The next ones to be promoted were the majors, lieutenant-colonels and so on. Some officers began to notice Claude waiting around for his name to be called and suspected him for being some ruffian who didn't earn anything and intruded his way into the ceremony.

It occurred to him that those participating in the ceremony were at least of the major rank. They couldn't award every single officer promoted throughout the army, after all, since there would easily be thousands among the hundreds of thousands of Aueran soldiers. The prince wouldn't be finished even if he kept on giving out shoulder marks till tomorrow night. Fortunately, the ceremony with only 300-odd officers passed quickly. There were ten plus more generals other than the prince himself and each person only had to hand out some seventeen shoulder marks in total in an hour.

Claude stood for so long that his legs were beginning to feel sore. He began to envy the guests and beautiful women that were observing the ceremony. Seats were prepared for them and most of them were seated and giving cursory applause to the officers on stage.

Eventually, the two first lieutenants who named the officers stopped. After the last batch of officers exchanged their shoulder marks and got off the stage, a general announced that the next ones to be called out were recipients of the knighthood order of merit.

"Captain Claude Ferd of 1st Ranger Tribe, please come to the stage."

When he heard his name, Claude took large steps forward and ignored the envious officers staring holes in the back of his head.

When he reached the stage, he saluted the first prince first, as Lederfanc had reminded, before saluting the generals. Finally, he turned to the officers he'd left behind beneath the stage, and saluted them as well. Courtesies done, he turned to the first prince once more, his back straighter than a bullet's path.

"Good. You're young, courageous, and thoughtful. That's why you achieved something amazing. I have my eyes on you. You have to strive even harder in the future."

The first prince patted his shoulder warmly.

Claude tapped the heels of his boots together.

"I offer the kingdom my loyalty and Your Highness my service!"

It was just the standard chant. Claude found them distasteful, but protocol was protocol, and he couldn't break it so openly on such an occasion.

A general came to their side and opened a scroll before he read out the achievement which had earned Claude his knighthood. His bravery was highlighted regarding his continued resistance despite his severe outnumberment. He led his 170 men to the complete defeat of 5000 enemies. It was a victory nothing short of a miracle. The general made sure to emphasise how the report about the battle had been independently verified under the strictest of scrutinies.

The first prince smiled as he put on a purple-gold sash over his left shoulder. Then, he pinned a gold knight medal the size of an infant's palm on the sash before patting Claude's shoulder in encouragement. Claude saluted again, but said nothing. He couldn't bear to repeat those embarrassing lines and instead feigned emotional agitation.

The ceremony hadn't ended yet, so he couldn't just get off the stage. There were three other knighthood recipients down the stage and he could only leave after they received their medals too.

But the mention of the second recipient's name almost stupefied him. He thought he was hearing things. It was only until that man of beastly physique stepped on stage and walked to salute the prince that Claude came to understand he wasn't dreaming. The one who stood before him was his playmate in his youth, his best friend, Welikro Fezka.

It really was him...

Claude stared stupidly at Welikro saluting the prince, the generals, the officers down the stage and him.

Before Claude returned the salute, Welikro stepped forward and gave him a bear hug with a bright, sunflower-like smile. He hugged him so hard he almost cried.

When he snapped out of it, he couldn't care that he was on stage. He hugged Welikro back.

"Why are you here, brother?! This is the last place I thought I'd see you!"

"You two know each other?" the first prince asked.

"We grew up together... We had to part ways when his family moved to the capital. I haven't seen him since I enlisted. It's been four years now," Claude answered.

"We went to school, hunted, and fished together. We even shared first place in our final year," Welikro added proudly.

"I see. You two must be excellent brothers, then. I didn't think the middle school from your hometown could produce two students as talented as yourselves--" The first prince didn't imagine the sheer benefits Whitestag Middle School later enjoyed thanks to his words. "--And how coincidental this meeting must be. And for both of you to be knighted on the same day as well! Truly a tale with which to regale the men. Leave the catch-up for after the ceremony though."

The two hurriedly stood at attention once more. The general read out Welikro's achievement. He was being knighted for killing 426 enemies with his musket, most at a distance greater than 150 metres. He'd been nicknamed 'Divine Sniper' by the men in his royal guard unit.

Chapter 270 - News from Welikro

Claude was in no mood to pay attention to who the two other new knights were anymore. He waited impatiently for the end of Miselk Priest's entitlement. When the prince announced the start of the ball, he rushed to Welikro while the other young officers began searching out the women of their liking for a dance.

Welikro said he had written quite a few letters, but he'd gotten only one out before the war made the postal service go to shit. Two had been returned to him with the message that his designated recipient didn't exist, which had done his angst over Claude's life no good.

It was to be expected, since Claude's keeper and stretcher unit belonged to the infirmary and wasn't one of Bluefeather's. They were formed into a keeper band under the Eimis keepers and guarded the Audin pass. When he was again moved to the ranger tribe under the first prince, the military's postal department didn't bother to update their records. Had he not informed his family of his new posting, their letters might have suffered the same fate as Welikro's.

Welikro said after he moved to the royal capital with his family, his father's friend recommended his father to a position in a count's personal guard. Welikro, on the other hand, joined the unit in which his father had served, Line 212, as a recruit. Unlike Claude, who was hazed by the veterans in Bluefeather, Welikro's journey was a smooth one. He didn't run into any obstacles and finished his training with flying colours and became a personal guard of the linesman.

As the guard of the linesman, Welikro managed to avoid being sent to the frontlines as cannon fodder after the royal guard was deployed there. However, that didn't last forever. Later, 212 received an order to attack a heavily defended castle in Rimodra, but their numerous attempts had failed. The sight of a few enemy troops pissing from the castle walls infuriated the linesman and he asked if any one of his men could teach the enemy a lesson about arrogance.

Due to the difficult terrain, the royal guards' siege cannons couldn't be deployed. Light-infantry cannons were also useless against a whole castle, and the walls were fitted with sentry cannons that prevented the royal guard troops from approaching too close. The enemy used four scatter-shot-firing cannons to close off the route of attack. The stretch of 100 metres in front of the castle was the slaughtering grounds.

At that moment, an idea popped into Welikro's head before he marched out with his rifle. He found a spot 200 metres away from the castle where he could hide. Then, he raised his gun to aim and killed three cursing enemy soldiers on the walls with five shots, causing the enemies to no longer show themselves on the walls. His confidence bolstered, he charged 50 metres ahead and put the walls in a deadlock with one gun alone. Any foe that dared peek over it would be killed by him.

Welikro had suddenly become a huge pain in the arse for the enemy. The scattershot couldn't reach him from that range and round shots weren't nearly as easy to aim with, especially considering how relatively close the soldiers were to the walls. The firing angle prevented the cannons from shooting well. As for returning fire at Welikro with muskets, it wouldn't work given the shorter firing range of the enemy guns and Welikro's cover. They were taking the attacks completely passively and the slightest careless exposure of themselves would mean almost certain death.

Thanks to Welikro's suppression sniping and the darkening skies, 212's linesman was able to lead his troops to approach the castle. They used a barrel of gunpowder to blow a hole in the wall and charged into the castle to exterminate the defenders. After occupying the strategic castle, Welikro was promoted two ranks to staff-sergeant immediately.

Ever since then, Welikro's fame soared. When the rest of the royal guard found out about the divine sniper in 212, Welikro would be sent out to participate in siege battles at the frontlines, usually given assignments to snipe enemy cannoneers and commanding officers to make an opportunity for the rest of the troops to break through. One defensive stronghold after another was conquered as planned and Welikro rose through the ranks till he was promoted to captain just like Claude.

Claude was quite curious how Welikro managed to get those shots from a range of 150 metres. The accurate shooting range for the Aubass Mark 3 was within a hundred metres. Beyond that, the bullet would drift. He could only hit half of the time at a target 120 metres away, so it basically depended on luck.

Welikro said he wasn't quite sure, citing only the feeling of knowing how much to adjust for the drift on an intuitive level before he takes a shot. Usually, he would be able to hit an enemy with the second shot. His vision was also better during the night. That would be the best time for him to snipe. As long as the enemy was within his firing range, they wouldn't be able to escape.

Perhaps that was Welikro's talent. Claude recalled when they travelled to Egret back when they were sixteen. Despite the near-complete darkness that was broken only by the faint starlight, Welikro was able to shoot the head of a deer with his outdated Gally Mark 3. He was already gifted as a shooter back then.

Claude also relayed his experiences to his friend. As they were reminiscing, Welikro seemed to recall something and spoke a few names, which Claude found familiar, but to which he couldn't quite place faces.

According to Welikro, they were their fellow physical course mates back in middle school. They were enlisted and deployed on the battlefield as well, but were all part of the irregular corps, which were formed from the local forces of the three southwestern prefectures of Aueras. Those three irregular corps were also sent to attack the defence line in Rimodra.

Unfortunately, their schoolmates perished in battle. Welikro only found out about that when he met Shaykov during a visit to a few injured comrades.

Shaykov? A stout and pudgy figure appeared in Claude's mind. He seemed to be his classmate and was also a physical stream student as well. His results were below average, but the reason Claude even remembered him, to begin with, was because of the bakery his family owned. They made the best honeyed bread. Additionally, the fatty was often made his opponent during the physical classes. Claude often felt like laughing at the sight of the other's grimace as he braced to be beaten.

"How's he doing? Is he hurt anywhere?" Claude asked.

Welikro hesitated, then sighed.

"Perhaps it's a good thing for him. He can finally go home to inherit his bakery. He lost a leg on the battlefield. His lower leg was blasted away by a cannon. Fortunately, the bleeding was quickly stopped and he ended up saved."

"Did he get hurt when they were marching into battle in line?"

Welikro nodded. "That's right. The irregular corps still use old tactics of lining up and marching towards the enemy's defences. As it stands now, the enemy won't meet us in open battle and stay behind their fortifications the whole time. Volley fire is already outdated and every time I see those soldiers march towards the enemy base, I recall the herds of livestock being led to slaughter. The casualties are far too high.

"Had the royal guard not been issued Aubass Mark 3s and switched their tactics to precision shooting to suppress the enemy before going in for an all-out attack, they might suffer as many casualties as the irregular corps. We'd long have lost our ability to fight if a switch had not happened. Thankfully, the top ordered the change and forbade us from using the old line-and-march tactics, or we wouldn't last for so long."

They were experiencing a paradigm shift in warfare, both the kingdom and its enemies. Claude guessed that Prince Hansbach was probably swayed by the battle at Wilf Stronghold to completely overhaul their tactics. Line-and-march would cost too many casualties, even if they were able to successfully take the enemy base. It wouldn't take long for the kingdom to completely run out of troops.

It was said that in antiquity, two nations fought all-out battles to decide victory once and for all. But ever since the war between Aueras and the Alliance broke out, the latter seemed to have no plan on facing Aueras in a grand battle at all. Instead, they formed many defence lines and employed delaying tactics by consuming troops and supplies to achieve their military goals. The five nations of the Alliance were all too aware that Aueras' tactics were matched by none after all.

The war had been going on for three years and both sides still didn't seem intent on an all-out clash. Instead, they both employed harassment and siege tactics, gaining and losing ground to each other over time. Even though the Alliance had shown great resistance, the initiative to attack on the battlefield was still held in Aueras' hands. With the demise of Askilin inching ever so close, the fate of the hundred-plus thousand troops of the Alliance in Rimodra seemed grim.

"I met Boa too," Welikro said, to Claude's surprise.

"Is he doing well?"

"Real good. I think he gained weight. The Banjilia keeperage he serves in was transferred to Sidins alongside the two irregular corps from the three southwestern prefectures. However, his unit was mostly given guard assignments at the rear. They don't have to go to the frontlines. I met him at Efenasburg the 8th month last year. He was going shopping on the streets with a few others and is already a sergeant-major. He's doing really well in the keepers. He's in charge of his tribe's logistics as the former logistics officer, Second Lieutenant Genard, is far too old for the job. The man was bedridden after arriving in Efenasburg and handed matters to Boa's hands. When I met him, he was scouting the shops to see if there are any business opportunities."

"Is he still in Efenasburg?" Claude smiled at Borkal's habit of always looking out for a way to make money. He seemed to be doing really well in his post. How could he have the leisure to shop around otherwise?

"I don't know. He might have been transferred for all I know. We of the royal guard have never rested ever since arriving in Rimodra. We've been at the frontlines the whole time. When I parted with Boa, I asked him to write to me, but he hasn't gotten to it yet."

Claude grimaced and consoled Welikro that Borkal was probably too busy or transferred to another location. However, there wouldn't be a need for either of them to worry for his safety since he was in charge of logistics and probably wouldn't be deployed on the frontlines anyway.

"Hey, good evening." A young officer wearing a purple-gold sash like Claude and Welikro's came to greet them. There was also a medal on the sash.

"Good evening, Captain Mendas. This is my good friend, Captain Claude," Welikro introduced. The two were both in the royal guard. Unlike Welikro, who shot the most enemies dead, Mendas' contribution was his ideas. He designed a simplified catapult and used it to lob explosive gunpowder kegs into the enemy lines and managed to conquer four defence lines in one day, capturing most of the enemies that hadn't yet retreated and earning the knighthood.

Claude shook his hand in a friendly manner. They were both of the same rank and had glasses of wine in their hands, not to mention the ball that was going on, so there was no need for salutes.

"You two really know what's good, to be chatting over here. Most of the officers here are major and above and I have to salute every three steps I take," Mendes explained his intrusion with an apologetic smile.

The other knighthood recipient had been a second lieutenant of Bluefeather. He was said to have defended his station from two folks of enemy troops and was the only officer left. Even the linesman and the logistics officers at the rear had to be deployed on the battlefield. This officer was stubborn in his resistance and he led little more than a hundred other men to stand his ground until reinforcements finally arrived. For that, he was promoted to captain and given a knighthood, but he left the venue early as he still hadn't made a full recovery.

So, Captain Mendas had nothing better to do in the hall. Had it not been for the sash and medal on him, he would've been ordered around like a gofer. Having no other choice, he joined Claude and Welikro's conversation.

Claude looked around and saw Lederfanc chatting animatedly with an elegantly dressed woman, so he turned back to suggest that they return to camp instead. He bought a carton of wine yesterday, so they might as well go back for drinks and snacks until they were drunk.

Welikro and Mendas agreed and the three left the venue together.

Chapter 271 - Explosive Shot

Claude's head still hurt a little when he woke up, a sure sign of a hangover. He, Mendas, and Welikro had drunk a whole carton of wine the previous evening. Mendas collapsed first, but Welikro still looked sober when Claude lost passed out. His alcohol tolerance seemed to have improved.

"What time is it?" he asked.

The tent was still filled with the scent of booze, probably as a result of the lack of ventilation. Gum and Myjack feared he would catch a cold, so they kept the tent flaps closed. The whole tent wreaked.

"It's four in the afternoon," Myjack replied.

He brought over some soup. It had citrus skin and some other herbs. It didn't leave a good taste in the mouth. But it worked miracles on a recovering drunkard.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Lederfanc came over just a few minutes ago. He didn't want to wake you, so he told me to inform you he is leaving in two days. He's visiting friends tomorrow," Myjack added.

Claude recalled Lederfanc and a woman were hitting it off pretty nicely as he left the banquet. It seemed he had found his prospective wife. The next day's visit was probably her parents. Claude decided to leave with the man. He didn't care when he got back so long as he could make it before new year's eve. Since he was free, he decided to go shopping.

"Open the flaps, please. Let some fresh air in," Claude said as he took the towel Myjack offered, "Is there a bathhouse in the city? I need to take one tonight."

"Yes, Sir. It's not too far from the camp. There's a nice one two streets down, but I hear it's a little pricey," Myjack said as he opened the window and entrance flaps.

The cold, fresh air caused Claude to shudder himself awake. As he put on his uniform, he said, "I don't mind if it's pricey, so long as the bath is comfortable. It's better than using cold water to wash up in camp."

There was a bath hall in the camp, but there wasn't a tub, only showerheads. While the bath water wasn't icy cold, it would alternate between lukewarm and cold, so a hot bath was out of the question. He decided to get a proper soak instead. At least it would feel much better.

"By the way, Myjack, get Gum to find Captain Welikro and Captain Mendas in the royal guard's camp. Tell them I want to treat them to a meal tonight. After the meal, we'll go to the bathhouse together. I believe they should be awake," Claude instructed.

There wasn't a curfew in the city, so they could stay out longer before returning to camp. Welikro and Mendas came over about an hour later. Welikro appeared perfectly fine, but Mendas had no colour in his face or eyes. He even swayed about as he walked while hugging his head, saying that it felt heavy after all that drinking last night.

But his consciousness was still sharp. "Apologies for letting you treat me to all that wine. Let me pay for tonight. But let's not drink anymore for dinner tonight."

"Myjack, give Captain Mendas a bowl of hangover soup too," Claude said.

"Yes, Sir. It'll be ready in a jiffy." Myjack left the tent.

Welikro laughed. "It's fine. Let him pay. He's a rich bastard. He has more money than he'll ever need. I haven't met him in so long, so I want to make this count."

Claude wondered how Welikro knew. He recalled he had moved to the royal capital before Claude had started his developments.

"Boa told me. He got a letter from his father about it. He's constantly wailing about leaving before he could swindle some money out of you, or even better, swindling himself into a partnership for the project."

Claude laughed.

"Nothing is ever certain. He might have only gotten his place in the rear because he left Whitestag to join the Banjilia keeperage. If he had stayed in town, he might've been conscripted like everyone else and put in an irregular corps. His future would have been in serious jeopardy if that had happened."

Myjack returned with the soup soon after. Mendas thanked him and blew on it a couple times before taking a sip.

"Your orderman is quick. Mine is so lazy I have to kick him to get him to do anything. And even then he only does a half-arsed job. I frequently have to go searching for my clothes butt-naked after a bath because he couldn't be bothered to put my clothes out for me, or even worse, not have any clean clothes because he would rather hide my dirty clothes than wash them...

"And he eats too much, too. He often nips some of my food when he fetches it for me. He once left me only the bread and then had the balls to say the cafeteria wouldn't give him anything else. How infuriating! Worse, beatings don't do much. He does a little more for a couple days after, but then goes right back to his slovenly ways. I've asked for a different orderman at least a dozen times but they don't want to move him because no one wants him as an orderman, and he can't serve as a normal soldier. Now I'm a knight, however, I bet they won't brown nose me like this next time I ask."

Claude smiled bitterly. This story was all too common. The army wanted the best out in the field, so only the shitty ones were made ordermen or attendants. They were also very stingy with the few that were half decent at their job as ordermen, sending them to the generals and other important figures, like noble officers. As such, many of the lower-ranked or weakly backed officers often just turned down ordermen and did everything themselves.

"I was lucky. Myjack was still a minor when he enlisted so I could make him my orderman. I've trained him properly. In fact, several higher-ups have wanted to poach him, but he's a loyal lad. I'll make him my adjutant if I make major in the future," Claude said humbly. "By the way, do you have an orderman and a guard?"

"No," Welikro said, shaking his head, "I'm used to doing most things myself. I don't like letting others touch my personal stuff. I don't have a guard either, but I do have a sidekick for battles. His vision is good and he shoots well. He didn't come with me this time though."

Myjack was technically a master-sergeant. Lederfanc had asked him if he wanted a command, but he was indeed very loyal. It didn't help that he liked having a cushy, safe posting under Claude's wing. Now that Claude had been made a captain, he might just get his tent post, anyway. Starting with captains, higher-ranked officers had personal guard units, so Claude would have a tent of guards soon and he planned to make Myjack their tentsman.

The three chatted for a while before Myjack returned to report the best inn in Pacasia, Blue Icewater, had sent carriages to pick them up. Claude had Gum reserve a room for them after he received confirmation that the other two would be joining him. They offered quite a good service to ferry their guests to their establishment.

Myjack and Claude entered the cabin whereas Gum sat beside the coachman. When they reached Blue Icewater, Claude, Welikro and Mendas went up to the reserved room on the first floor. Myjack and Gum had their own table downstairs; Claude didn't forget those two. Gum would be having a pleasant feast that night.

The three of them chatted as they ate and eventually, the topic turned to the equipment used by the kingdom's military. Captain Mendas had a lot to say about it. He believed that the kingdom's arms research was going the wrong way. Fortunately, it had been dragged back to the right path. He was referring to the emergence of the Aubass Mark 3. Back then, firearms research focused only on how to improve the firing range of muskets for further and more effective volley coverage and barrel endurance, but they had completely ignored the needs of soldiers on the frontlines.

The cannons were the same. The development focused only on developing cannons that could fire more powerful and heavier rounds with the hopes that they would be able to destroy enemy fortifications with one shot while ignoring all the extra weight it added to the cannons. To endure stronger blasts of gunpowder, the barrels had to be made of thicker and heavier materials, making the cannons less and less mobile. While the current iteration of cannons could fire far and strong, they were incredibly inconvenient to move around, requiring up to sixteen workhorses to pull and only able to be moved some four kilometres every day, not to mention only being able to be moved across flat ground and requiring even more horses to switch out midway.

Mendas wondered why they couldn't approach development from the ammunition angle. Apart from round shot and scattershot, couldn't they make something that exploded? If they could fire explosive shots, the destructive power of cannons would be multiplied a few times over and sieges would be far easier. Not as much blood of soldiers would have to be shed to conquer enemy strongholds.

Claude didn't understand how the firearms research of this world skewed so badly either. They were still stuck using matchlocks and research was focused on increasing the firing range. They completely ignored precision aiming. He also agreed with Mendas' criticism of the development of cannons. Mendas said he had written two letters to the National Firearms Research Institute regarding his thoughts in hopes that an explosive shot could be developed. He had yet to receive a reply, however. He wasn't too hopeful that they hadn't just thrown his letter in trash.

"It's a shame I don't know how to conduct research. Otherwise, I'd definitely try to make an explosive shot," Mendas said with seething hate. He was forced to improvise by using the crude method of lighting gunpowder kegs and sending them flying with simple catapults, and he never expected that to earn him a knighthood. Due to their limited range, his men would be hurt in every attack. The thought made the medal even heavier.

Perhaps the whole situation was caused by the monopoly on information. Claude recalled that his middle school didn't offer physics or chemistry. Even if somebody had a bright idea, they wouldn't be able to realise it without understanding the basic mechanics of the world. Mendas, for instance, wanted to create an explosive cannon shot, but without the relevant knowledge, he wouldn't know how to start.

"I have an idea..." Mendas began, "If the round shot is hollowed out and stuffed with gunpowder and equipped with a rope fuse, we can light it and load the shot before firing. I wonder if it'll explode if it hits the target that way."

It was indeed a good idea and perhaps how Dumdum bullets were created. Claude could recall all sorts of ammunition types from his previous world, but given the state of muzzleloading ballistics in this world, he doubted people would believe him if he said guns could be loaded from the rear breech. If he brought up howitzers and rockets, they might consider him insane.

It was too bad Claude didn't know how those weapons were made either. He hadn't done his 'fair share' of online research about the topic, and nobody who actually knew how to make ammunition would simply reveal the process. He knew that Mendas' guess was right, but without truly understanding the mechanics behind Dumdum bullets, he wouldn't be able to do much with his idea. Regardless, he still encouraged Mendas to do more research on the topic. On earth, most technological innovations were motivated by war and conflict, after all.

When they finished their meal two hours later, Claude invited the two to the expensive bathhouse. He soon came to understand why it cost so much: beautiful maidservants were there to massage and wash them during the bath and serve them fruits, snacks and fine wine. The women could also be invited into nearby rooms if so desired, but that was a separate bill they had to settle with the women.

Claude refused the maidservant's offer to bring him into a room, but Mendas couldn't. He took two with him immediately. Welikro, on the other hand, laid in the tub with his hands spread wide open for the maidservant to massage.

"Won't you go relax?" Claude asked.

"No need," Welikro mumbled, "It's pointless. My mind is always full of women before I bed one. But I always feel soft and worn out afterwards and it affects my aim. I need three days to get back into form after a good shagging. I don't touch women if I know I'm heading to the field shortly."

"You've changed a lot. You're much colder and more serious than before. And you talk even less than before."

"Can't be helped. You don't know how it feels to find it easier to shoot people than game. I've stopped seeing people when I look through my scope. They're just blobs of meat. My kills are just numbers to me."

The maidservant giggled. Perhaps she thought Welikro was only boasting. How could a young man have killed more than four hundred?

"You're too tense. You need to unwind. The year's coming to an end and I doubt we'll hit the field again soon. Have a little fun."

Claude was no expert, but he wondered if Welikro wasn't suffering from some form of post-traumatic stress.

"We're heading back tomorrow. I got the order earlier today. We leave at nine tomorrow morning."

Chapter 272 - Mission

Claude sent Welikro off the next day, but the two didn't talk much. They merely hugged and bade each other farewell. Mendas, on the other hand, shook Claude's hand nonstop. He had come to see Claude as a kindred spirit over the past two days. For instance, the idea he offered to chip the round shots so that they would explode upon impact and damage the enemy soldiers with shrapnel was genius. It solved the issue of the relatively unimpressive round shots.

Claude sighed as he watched the members of the royal guard fade away into the distance. He was a little worried about Welikro. Though he managed to convince him to go to the room with the maidservant for 'relaxation', he left an hour later feeling defeated and worn out. Mendas was completely different; he went in with two women and came out energetic and boasting.

There were no mental health professionals in this world. If Welikro developed a trauma from his time on the battlefield, he could only rely on himself to break out of that state. Claude felt that Welikro seemed too tense the whole time. It was as if he couldn't relax, or hadn't yet found a way to self regulate his mental state. Being tense all the time would make it easy for mental problems to develop. Yet, there wasn't much he could do about it. The best he could do was give a sound reminder. Welikro had to find his own way to unwind.

After that, Claude took Myjack and Gum around the city for shopping and had to buy another carriage because he bought too much. Fortunately, the roads from the three southern prefectures to Squirrel Village had been mended by Claude's captives. Four-wheeled carriages could now drive through. He decided to sell that new carriage to the village chief when he made it back since he happened to need one for transporting goods.

Lederfanc was quite drunk when he returned later that night, but his expression was pleasant. He kept mumbling a woman's name. Aligesia, it sounded like; but Lederfanc's adjutant took him to his tent before Claude could hear her name clearly. Claude couldn't exactly go in with him, so he returned to his tent.

When they were about to go back the next day, Lederfanc was shocked to see two filled carriages Myjack and Gum drove.

"Claude, did you spend all the prize money you got?" Lederfanc estimated the goods to be worth at least forty crowns. If those were luxury products, the price might be double that.

"More or less, I guess." Claude didn't keep count. Myjack was the one who made the payments. He reported that it cost about fifty crowns.

"You're still young, so you ought to save up your money. Don't blow them all in one instant. You obtained a huge victory because you lucked out and no accidents happened. You should've saved the prize money up for future use," advised Lederfanc.

Claude knew he was being thoughtful. Lederfanc was of common birth and he saved up most of his salary, and perhaps did send some back to his family too. Claude nodded. "I won't spend too much the next time. Thanks for the advice. By the way, how's it going with your marriage? Is it set?"

With the subject successfully changed, Lederfanc forgot about the goods Claude bought and rambled on about his sweetheart. According to him, the one he called Ali was a 27-year-old widow who had a four-year-old daughter. Her husband had perished at sea. Back then, they were married for two years and she was expecting. The man spent a huge sum to secure a voyage back home to make it in time for their daughter's delivery, but the ship was wrecked during a voyage in the night and her husband went with it.

She grieved for her husband's death, but stayed strong for the sake of their daughter and inherited the business. But without her husband weathering all the troubles, her huge estate attracted quite a lot of greedy stares. She had spent the past few years rather uneasily and it was the first time a relative of hers asked her to join the ball. She didn't think she would meet Lederfanc and get along well with him.

"You don't mind her status? She has a daughter, you know."

Lederfanc didn't know what Claude was getting at. Claude suddenly realised he had misspoken and slapped his forehead. Unlike back in his world, single men weren't discouraged from marriage by a woman's status as a widow. There were simply too many widows to worry about it. Take Aueras. Every war left thousands of widows, and they were frequent and severe. The lucky or richer and more attractive men bedded and wedded a woman and left her for the war with a child in her belly. The less capable, but probably luckier, men that couldn't get a woman before leaving, came back and bedded and wedded the widows.

"Her daughter's a cute angel. I don't mind being her stepfather," Lederfanc said with a bright smile.

"Then I can only wish you the best," Claude said.

The journey back took a day more than coming -- the extra carriage hadn't done their speed any favours. Nevertheless, Claude did make it back two days before new year's eve.

A third of one carriage's goods was for Claude's magus lover, Sheila. Even though she was a magus, she was still a woman and couldn't help being overjoyed with the new clothes and accessories he bought for her. He got to spend a few exciting nights with her as a result.

Year 579 of the Sacred Light Era passed just like that with the flames of war still burning bright in Eastern Freia. Claude celebrated it with Sheila and his clan in Squirrel Village. During that year, he obtained a massive victory, was promoted to captain, and was awarded a knighthood. After that, he spent the rest of that year guarding Squirrel Village and hoped he could spend another year there in peace.

Lederfanc's predictions were right, however. Less than a week into the new year, tribe headquarters called Claude in. Lieutenant-Colonel Lederfanc had left 1st Rangers for a higher post. Claude, however, wasn't to be his replacement. The higher-ups had shoved someone else in ahead of him. The man had called him in to meet his new underling before sending him off to the front lines.

Claude hadn't wanted Lederfanc to leave. Good superiors were hard to find. He'd had it easy under the man and had become somewhat complacent. He had little say in the affairs of his superiors, however, least of all their promotions. The tribe was the smallest independent combat unit in the army, so it would be doubly inappropriate for someone with Lederfanc's rank to have the command.

At the very least the man to take his place was someone Claude knew: Captain Skri. He'd not met the man many times, but he'd heard about the man from Lederfanc, and he'd always described him as an upright man and the first prince's most trusted aide.

"Where are you heading, Sir?" Claude asked Lederfanc.

"I'm heading to Pacasia. His Highness has created an office to oversee the local military industry and has asked me to become its second-in-command," Lederfanc chuckled giddily.

It was indeed a good posting, but Claude knew the real reason he was happy.

"It seems your wedding will be sooner than we all thought!" he exclaimed congratulatorily.

The bastard couldn't wait to go because that was where his bride-to-be lived. Hoes before bros, huh? Damn bastard!

"Nice to see you, Captain Claude. A pleasure to see you again," Captain Skri said as he saluted before offering his hand.

The two were of the same rank, but Skri would be Claude's senior if not for the latter's knighthood. That said, though Skri saluted first, he did not do it as a junior would a senior.

"Ah, yes!" Claude half-choked as his hand shot to place for a salute before clasping his new commanding officer's hand. "I apologise for my lack of manners. A pleasure to serve under you. Might I ask why you were posted here? I thought you were a trusted aide to High Highness."

Skri smiled awkwardly.

"I am indeed High Highness' trusted aid, but promotion is rare for aides when the one they serve is not promoted himself, and there is little, if any room left in the army's hierarchy for High Highness to be promoted. It is thus necessary to take a step back from the prince's side to take a step up the ladder."

Skri nudged his head at Lederfanc.

"This one's the one who got me thinking about promotions again. We were both captains just two years ago, but now he's twice my superior and I'm still the same captain I was back then. I could not let it go on like that, so I asked His Highness for a break from his side to build up my merits some more and he posted me here."

Claude had to admit to being slightly miffed at being robbed of a chance at promotion, but he appreciated Skri's frankness. At the very least it would seem he had gotten a decent superior.

"His Highness is right," Lederfanc said, putting his arm around Skri, "This is the place for you if promotions are what you want. Just do two things: trust Claude; and let him do what he thinks is best. Other than that, just wait for your next promotion. I suppose you should get in the thick of it once or twice, as well, but that's less important than those two things."

Lederfanc, detached from the tribe as he now was, was still unhappy with the lack of combat the unit had seen in his last months as their commander, so he didn't forget to throw some shade on Skri before leaving. He would have complained outright if not for the man's close relationship with first prince. If he did, the prince might just come down on frontline command, and they would take it out on his now-former subordinates in his absence. He was not a man to make a mess as he left the building.

"I will," Skri nodded, "in fact, I come with our new orders."

"Great. You two talk it out. This no longer concerns me," Lederfanc said casually as he walked out the door.

Captain Skri walked to the maps on the walls and stopped in front of the one of Canas.

"The frontlines has stabilised. Rimodra's hundred-thousand-plus-strong forces are surrounded on two sides. Askilin's capital, Bravisosburg, is encircled. I've been told it'll fall as soon as the rainy season lets up. The only enemies left would then be Canas and Nasri.

"Canas is mostly open plains. They train lots of cavalry there. His Highness believes they've been the Alliance's main supplier of mounted forces for the entire war. The lands are currently guarded by two light-cavalry corps, and almost a hundred thousand in Rimodra. If we add the ones we've killed so far in the war, that's 300 thousand.

"Frontline command believes that's as much as Canas can supply. They're of the opinion that the duchy must be all but stripped bare of people. The kingdom is wholly occupied at the moment, however, so High Highness has sent all four ranger tribes to deal with Canas."

Indeed, most of the war should be wrapping up at the moment, Claude thought.

"From where will we launch our march?" he asked.

"We'll descend on the plains from the mountains, along the path through which the nobles attacked Squirrel. We'll occupy their land and take what supplies we need as we establish a foothold on the plains before marching further.

"As for 2nd Rangers, 3rd Rangers, and 4th Rangers, they'll come in from the east, setting off from Askilin. Once they've surveyed their areas, the kingdom's main army will march in. High Highness has left what we do after we establish our foothold up to us, so we can act at our own discretion."

Claude stared at the map in thought.

"Alright. I need to make some preparations before we depart."

Chapter 273 - Dominion of Death

Claude received good and bad news. The good news was that his superiors hadn't decided on a date for his deployment to the Great Plains of Canas yet. They just wanted him to be there before the rainy season started, five months from then.

The brass seemed aware that deploying the ranger tribes to the plains wasn't too practical. It was still the 1st month and the rainy season was ahead of them. Losing one's way on the endless plains was something that happened often, and there were too few places people could take cover from the elements from. Compared to a mountainous area, the endless plains were much colder.

The 2nd month was the time of melting, so it was ill fitted for deployment either. Mud and puddles were all over the plains and made it difficult for marches. There was not a single spot that would be dry, and they would have to bring their own fuel. During the 3rd month, it was the rainy season, and it was said that the plains practically turned into a swamp for its duration. It wasn't uncommon for horses and people to get stuck in the ground for days and die of hypothermia. It was only during the 4th month when the warmth returned to ground and weeds gave way to flowers. The herders would only be able to let their livestock graze during that time. Incidentally, that happened to be the ideal time to march.

The bad news was 1st Ranger Tribe wasn't able to procure enough war horses. They were the best method by which to travel around on the plains, but Canas very rarely sold war horses to other people. They exported livestock, workhorses and furs, but war horses were highly regulated. Private sale of war horses was forbidden. At most, they would sell neutered war horses to the Alliance.

After the war broke out, it wasn't as if Aueras' army hadn't obtained a single war horse throughout the campaign. However, those were treated as spoils and split among the other corps that had cavalry units that needed new war horses. In Eastern Freia, Canas' war horses were acknowledged to be the very best.

While Askilin neighboured the duchy on the plains, it was still exceedingly hard to buy fitting war horses in the three southern prefectures. The people of Canas rode only horses on a journey whereas those from Askilin preferred carriages. That was why workhorses were all too common in the three southern prefectures, but war horses were far too rare in comparison.

A war horse had to be able to get accustomed to the sound of firearms shooting and the smell of gunpowder so that they wouldn't be startled during a gallop and cause confusion in the ranks. Most fit workhorses didn't possess that capability.

1st Rangers was an infantry combat tribe to begin with, and was thus not assigned any war horses. They did, however, have many workhorses, mainly to transport supplies with. Claude's clan had ten plus war horses which he obtained back when he was defending his ground against the enemy mounted scouts and he was going to use it for reconnaissance and communication. However, if the whole tribe was to be deployed in the Great Plains, they would require a war horse for each soldier, or they wouldn't stand a chance in escaping if it looked bad for them.

The three other ranger tribes were deployed at the part of the plains near the border of Askilin. It was wide and expansive there and large convoys could be formed if they didn't have mounts. That way, even if they were attacked by the mounted Canas troops, they could defend with the carts they had with them.

But the mountain path through which 1st Rangers had to travel was narrow, and, while Claude had the captives fix up the path from the three southern prefectures to Squirrel Village, the path from the village to the plains was still unmended. Putting aside using carriages, he didn't even dare to ride a horse across that path in fear of falling off the ridge down to the valley. The safest way to travel through that path was still using one's own two feet.

Second Lieutenant Mazik didn't agree with using war horses, however. Last year when he snuck deep into the tiger's den to spy on the Canasian nobles, specifically, the dominion of Count Loirkad Bar Krilaus, the subjects in that dominion knew of the mountainous area as the Viridian Mountains instead of the Southern Mountains, as denoted on the Askilinian map. As the count's dominion's rear faced the mountains, his subjects worked both in agriculture and livestock. There were villages, barns, woods and a large castle in the dominion. That was one of the main reasons he ended up the leader of the noble army back then.

As the count's dominion was quite similar to the three southern prefectures in certain respects, Mazik believed that there wouldn't be a need for war horses. They didn't need the whole tribe to have good mobility to conquer the count's dominion. Those villages and barns wouldn't grow legs and run away, after all, and Claude could simply take them one after another without any rush. He could gather war horses after occupying the whole dominion. Mazik believed it would be a far easier task than gathering war horses in the three southern prefectures, not to mention the funds it would save.

Claude decided to adopt Mazik's suggestion, but that didn't mean he would sit there and do nothing during the wait till deployment in the 4th month. There was still much to consider, such as how it would be impossible to transport his eight light-infantry cannons using workhorses through the mountain path. Yet, not bringing the cannons posed yet another set of problems. Without scattershot, his clan would lose its insurance. At least, they would be able to keep the enemies firmly a hundred metres away with the cannons.

If he couldn't ensure mobility for his unit, Claude had to make sure he would be aptly defended against enemy light cavalry. So, when he submitted the list of materials he required through carrier pigeon to Captain Skri in tribe headquarters, Skri abided by Lederfanc's advice and didn't bother asking what they would be for and tried his best to source the items to be shipped to Squirrel Village.

Time passed quickly and after the rainy season, Claude began to send Mazik and the rest to the count's dominion for preliminary scouting. However, the results filled Claude with suspicion. They reported that not a single soul could be seen in that dominion. The scouts didn't dare to travel further in and only conducted observations from afar.

During the middle of the 4th month, tribe headquarters moved to Squirrel Village in preparation to take over once the tribe entered the Great Plains of Canas.

During the 20th of the 4th month, Claude and his clan set out for the plains. They were five days slower than the other three ranger tribes, but it couldn't be helped. The mountain path was far harder to traverse and they needed extra preparation to transport supplies across it.

The only thing Claude was happy about was Sheila's obedience. She didn't come to send him off as he told her. Not too long ago, she even expressed interest in going to the Great Plains with Claude after hearing that he would be leaving Squirrel Village. It took Claude the most effort to persuade her to stay behind. The battlefield was no joke. If she had the gall to toss a fireball on the battlefield, the gunners from both sides of the battle would not hesitate to shoot her down first.

He promised her that he would return safely and see her when he had the time and also reminded her that she had to brush up on her studies while waiting for her mother to return. In the end, he did manage to get her to promise to stay in the witch's forest without fooling about.

Apart from the difficulty of traversing the mountain path, Claude's clan had also brought along too many supplies. They had one horse for every three men. Claude realised, however, when they made it through to the plains proper, that he didn't have to do anything to occupy Count Krilous' county. He literally just had to march in.

It was just as Mazik said. There wasn't a single young lad in the area. Most of the people left in the villages were the weak and elderly, a very few of them at that. No young men or women could be seen. The flowers of spring had just started to bloom in the 4th month, but the county seemed to have absolutely no able-bodied young men. The only activity was old people carrying baskets out into the fields to forage.

When the unit finally arrived at the count's castle, the people within opened the gates and surrendered. There were only a few older servants within. He asked the surrendered butler where everyone else was.

The butler sighed and said they had all left. First, half the young men had been conscripted by the duke's army. The rest were gathered by the nobles for some raids in the three southern prefectures. Men ranging from teenagers to those in their forties were all taken away. But half a month later, the nobles returned with ten-odd men and said that they had lost the battle and those who weren't killed were taken captive.

After the nobles returned, they packed up all their goods and left with their families to Northbay without ever turning back. They left the old servants behind to help them sell off all the unliquidated assets they had here before bringing the sum of money to Northbay. However, word of their defeat had spread throughout the Land of the Free Nobles. They, including the count, had also packed up and fled to Northbay without a care for their domain.

The youths that were enlisted didn't return at all. The rest that remained soon left the derelict place. The old butler had witnessed a prosperous dominion die overnight. The farms were left unattended and nobody bothered to herd the livestock. Everything that could be taken away was. Even the sounds of dogs and other livestock could no longer be heard.

The dominion was on its way to certain death, the butler bemoaned.

"Where did you say the Land of the Free Nobles was?" Claude asked.

"It's here, the area at the foot of Viridian Mountains. There are more than ten fiefs here, with our lord's county being the largest. He's the leader of the nobles in the area and without his permission, even the duke's transport may not enter the area. That's why the nobles know this place as the Land of the Free Nobles," the butler said with pride while reminiscing its glory days.

Why's a slave like you proud of it? Your masters are the free ones, not you. Claude had Myjack bring him a map. "Is there any noble that stayed behind?"

"They're all gone, all gone..." the man said melancholically, "The taint of death has already touched this area. Extermination is a matter of time. There are only those who leave. None of them ever return. Young man, I advise you to leave soon too. Otherwise, you'll perish here as well."

Claude looked at the map once more and ignored the old butler. Calling it a dying dominion seemed like an exaggeration. The most that had happened was their youth being conscripted to join the duchy's forces or joining the army of the nobles on their way to the three prefectures. The nobles that returned feared the Aueran army's attack and hurriedly escaped.

Without lords and a young workforce, the other people who wanted to make a better living all left. It wasn't weird for a desolate dominion to deteriorate into such a state.

It was no wonder no peddlers from the Great Plains came after the victorious battle last year. They had all been frightened away by the rumours. Or, there simply wasn't any more business to be done in such a desolate place to warrant them coming over.

"Mod, Dyid, you two take your bands and search the two sides of the county. Make sure to check through and through and bring anyone you find on the way here, understood?" Claude said as he pointed at the map.

"Understood." The two left after a salute.

"Mazik, take your band to the centre of the plains for scouting. If you notice any herder or nomad settlements, bring the people back here if you can overpower them. If not, mark their location on the map and don't be discovered."

"Yes, Sir." Mazik left with a skip in his step. The orders Claude gave him afforded him lots of freedom of movement. He could capture and raid if he found any settlements as he pleased. It would be a good chance to make an extra buck.

"Sergeant-Major Langst, your band will be in charge of defending this castle. Sergeant-Major Lokid, remove the parts of the eight cannons from the horses' back and have them installed on the castle. I believe we'll have to defend this location in the coming days," instructed Claude.

It was a surprising and unexpected circumstance that the nobles would abandon their dominions in favour of escape, allowing Claude's men to take the area without resistance.

The Great Plains of Canas covered a large area, and the Land of the Free Nobles only took up a seventh of its area. While Claude's mission was to survey the might of the duchy's troops, there was no way he wouldn't take the free land they offered. He believed Captain Skri would be of the same opinion. Secure the area first. It was a strategic location filled with farms and pastures, after all. It would be a great base from which the kingdom's campaign in Canas could be conducted once developed.

Chapter 274 - Castle Landes

It took half a month for Captain Skri to get the entire tribe, logistics staff and supplies included, to Count Krilaus' Castle.

Claude briefed Skri on the dominion's current state when he finally did so.

"This all used to be 14 different nobles' dominions. Count Loirkad Bar Krilaus has the biggest portion. Of the rest, three are viscounties and nine baronies. We only caught three of them, however. The rest bolted to Northbay before we arrived, families in tow."

He poked and jabbed a map on the table as his explanation continued.

"2nd Clan is currently at Viscount Vikdor's castle, and 3rd Clan in Baron Kraft's castle about ten kilometres this way. We've been surveying this area here in detail and have collected about a thousand subjects. Most are elderly though. There are fewer than a hundred youths. We have them settled in the village outside the walls. They've been foraging and fishing, but that's not enough to sustain them, so we've been forced to give them a portion of our supplies.

"I had wanted to get them farming, but all the equipment is gone. Those bastards took everything when they ran off."

Skri nodded.

"I brought the seed and equipment you requested from Squirrel. We can have several farms up and running in no more than a week. How are there so few people in all of the 14 fiefs?"

Claude picked up an old folder and flipped through it ceremoniously.

"These are all the documents we managed to find in the castles. Most are census records from five years ago. A quick count puts the population at 50 thousand, 20 thousand of which should be youths. The war took most of the young men, eight thousand in all.

"The rest joined the nobles on their march south. The old butler who stayed behind had wanted to join, but after the defeat they suffered at Squirrel, the nobles returned and darted for Northbay. The peasants knew they had little future without the nobles to keep the peace, so those that could, packed up and followed them."

"I'm not surprised. Without the men, all that's left is the elderly and the widows. The nobles know better than anyone they can't fight us, and they're not about to die in a battle with a predetermined outcome not in their favour. Oh, that reminds me, I brought the captives we have with me. They should help shore up the labour force."

Claude shrugged.

"I'll leave that to you. I need to move to Castle Landes. It's in the barony by the river cove. Any push this way has to come through there and it's the best place along the way to stop it. Tribe headquarters will be here."

Skri's expression shifted.

"You think they'll attack?"

"It's hard to say--" Claude shook his head. "--The nobles have abandoned their fiefs, but that doesn't mean they've given up on them. The only thing nobles are holier about than their honour is their land. Peasants belong to their lords as much as the land on which they live does. Just as we would abandon old tools for newer ones, they probably used this as a good chance to rid themselves of the elderly. At the same time, this lets them avoid the responsibility for the losses they've incurred and look after the families left behind. They're ducking their responsibilities and pushing them onto us.

"Either we look after them until they're able to come back and take back their land from us, then blame us for the bad condition of their lands while letting the elderly starve, or we are unable or unwilling to feed those left behind and they die on our watch with all the blame on us.

"They can't fight us on their own, but they're almost certain to pressure the duke of Canas to take back their land for them. He's the one that conscripted so many men out of their fiefs and left them underpowered to fight us.

"Some of our scouts reported hearing horsemen not long after we arrived. I checked out the location and tracks were circling in from and back to the north. I sent a detachment out to see if they could catch anyone, but they returned empty handed. I wouldn't be surprised if they bought a mole or two while they were here though.

"I suspect they abandoned their fiefs with the intention to return also because they left servants behind to look after their castles. If they'd really given up on their lands, they'd have taken them with them. I also noticed that all the title deeds are missing. They left in such a hurry after returning from their defeat, but not one noble forgot any of his title deeds."

Skri wore a solemn expression.

"Your conjectures sound reasonable. We have to prepare. But after I submitted your report to frontline command, they ordered us to continue scouting towards the centre of the plains to see whether Canas is gathering an army. Since you're going to defend the fief, I'll leave that assignment to you."

The Landes barony was at the border between the lands they currently occupied and the Great Plains. So it made sense they'd be the ones given the duty of scouting the plains. Even if Skri hadn't given the order, Claude would have scouted the region.

"Another thing," Claude said, "We'll be stationed there alone, so I hope you can support us with more supplies. The nobles and subjects of the area have all left and while the land is big, there isn't much we can appropriate for our use. We have to rely on support from the rear. Additionally, 2nd Clan and 3rd Clan are stationed at the castles of Viscount Vikdor and Baron Kraft respectively. I had them check whether there are any hidden rooms or pathways, which we can find useful for defending the area. Please remind them not to gloss it over. I found two secret paths that connect to the outside and one hidden room in Count Krilaus' castle."

"Got it. I'll make sure they search through the places thoroughly. As for supplies, I'll get the rear to send what we need as quickly as possible, rest assured," Captain Skri promised with a nod.

After staying a night at Count Krilaus' castle, Claude wished the captain goodbye the next day and left with Sergeant-Major Langst's infantry band and Sergeant-Major Lokid's cannoneer band towards Castle Landes. While the distance in a straight line between the two locations was around three kilometres, it took them the good part of a day to travel there as there was a river cove that Claude and his men had to make their way across before they arrived at the simple wooden bridge they used to cross the river with.

Castle Landes was located on a hill near the large cove. It was much smaller than the count's castle, with the walls being made of wood and stone. The lower part of the castle was made out of cobblestone while the upper half was made from logs. Count Krilaus' on the other hand was made entirely out of large stones. The walls of Krilaus' castle was two metres taller than the four-metre wall of Castle Landes.

However, it was constructed upon advantageous terrain. There was a large cove next to the hill it was built on. The baron had dug a seven-metre-wide moat around the hill and connected it to the river, making it seem like the river separated the hill from the rest of the plains. As the herders on the grasslands weren't good at traversing water, the moat proved to be quite a tough obstacle.

Claude and the rest noticed there were white and fluffy sheep herds all over the cove and the hill when they arrived. Dyavid then let down the drawbridge over the moat with his tent of men to welcome Claude's arrival.

"From where are these sheep?" Claude asked.

"Mazik and Mod captured them from the plains with some men. We already captured more than 20 herder households and have more than a thousand sheep," Dyavid replied.

Shocked, Claude asked, "Don't the herders have any youths?"

"Well, not really. There are some older herders above the age of 45 and younger ones under the age of 12. The rest are all women," Dyavid said after some thought.

"Bring the herders and sheep to Krilaus' castle and hand them to Captain Skri. Let him deal with it. We can't leave them here at the frontlines," Claude instructed.

"Sir, are we going to hand over all the sheep?" Dyavid appeared unwilling. The herders were the Canasian subjects and the sheep were spoils of the troops. It was a way they could make a quick buck from.

"Leave a hundred or two here for the men to get a taste. Send the rest away. Are you going to sell sheep here? Who would buy any during a time like this? You can't herd them yourself, can you? Leave it to tribe headquarters and you might get a second or third-class merit instead. They lack fresh meat over there."

"Alright, Chief. I'll do what you say."

Claude continued towards the castle. "Have you searched the castle yet? Found any hidden compartments?"

"No, Chief. There was a hidden room and I believe it was a vault. It's empty now. We didn't find any hidden paths. I doubt there could be any, since the cove is just over there. If they really dug a path outside, they'd risk water spilling into the castle. If they don't want that, they'd have to spend a large sum to fix the place up. Given the derelict state of this castle, I doubt the baron would be willing to construct a hidden waterproof path outside," Dyavid reasoned.

Claude nodded. "Have there been any difficulties defending this place?"

"Yes, Chief. We lack fuel," Dyavid hurriedly replied, "I've already had the men gather all the wood they could find in a two-kilometre radius, but only managed to fill half a small house up with firewood. I think we'll run out if we camp here for less than half a month. We won't be able to boil water and cook then. The herders use cow and horse dung as fuel, but we don't have many war horses nor cows with us..."

It did present itself to be a huge problem. After some consideration, Claude said, "After taking the herders and sheep back, tell Captain Skri to send a group of captives to collect firewood to make charcoal. I need a stockpile that can last us at least half a year. Also, when are Mazik and Mod returning?"

Dyavid scratched his head. "I think they'll be back around tomorrow. They're searching further and further and spending more and more time. During the past ten days, their excursions lasted around three days. Mazik left the day before yesterday after lunch and Mod left yesterday before noon."

"Alright. There's no need to have them go out to scout after they return. We'll use war horses for scouting next time. Leave the infantry here to fortify our defences."

"There's no need to fortify it, is there, Chief? I think it's working fine as it is."

"It won't do. We will all have to hide in this castle if the enemy comes. We'll be trapped in that case. If the enemy brought cannons, this castle won't last. We won't be able to escape even if we want to. Baron Landes built this castle to defend against other nobles. While it works against noble armies, it won't be able to stand for long under siege from a proper army."

"Alright. You call the shots."

Chapter 275 - Remaining a Deadbeat

The Land of the Free Nobles was peaceful for the whole of the 6th month, almost like it had been forgotten. The area next to the Viridian Mountains was more deserted than forgotten, however. The region was littered with desolate shacks. The only motion came from the odd cloth fluttering in the wind and waves dancing across the weed-choked fields. The drains so meticulously maintained before the war were overrun by grass and choked with dirt.

The only place where human footprints still dented the soil was Count Krilaus' county. The farms and orchards were tended and various crop younglings poked out of the soil. Several dozen figures were logging on the edge of the forest in the foothills of the Viridian Mountains and three towers of smoke trailed into the sky from charcoal ovens.

Claude admired Captain Skri's thoroughness. He didn't doubt he could do no less; he hated handling such things personally. He didn't mind accompanying the captain on his survey, however. Good news waited for them at the castle when they returned: all the tribe's officers had once again received a first-class merit. Captain Skri finally had enough merit to be promoted to major.

The two captains emptied a barrel that night. Skri spent the last half of the barrel recounting his life story to Claude, who listened tipsily.

Skri came from a noble family. His father was a viscount. Skri himself was but a bastard born from an affair the viscount had had with a married woman. Her husband had been in Nubissia for four years already at the time. She disappeared from her house for the duration of the pregnancy and left him with his father shortly after his birth.

The viscount acknowledged Skri as his bastard, but did little if anything more. His status was inferior to even the chimsweep and his step-siblings enjoyed bullying him with alarming frequency. Being a bastard, he was gifted neither a middle name nor a sobriquet.

His grandmother was far more positively inclined towards him, however. She gave her legitimate grandchildren thorough beatings whenever she caught them belittling Skri, even well into his teenage years. She even personally funded his further studies at the war college.

He graduated shortly after turning twenty and joined the royal guard. His mother passed away not long after in induction. He had a major falling out with his step-siblings at the funeral when they tried to cut him off from any inheritance, afraid he might try to come after the portions she'd left them. He renounced his surname then and there, and had not spoken or written a single word to or about them since.

He served the royal guard loyally for eight years before finally reaching the rank of captain and gaining the first prince's favour. The prince took him under his wing and made him his personal aide. He still remembered the prince's words: 'What your surname is, even if you have one or not, doesn't matter. The surname doesn't make the man, the man makes the surname. Create a legacy with your deeds that you may leave an honourable surname to your descendants.'

Those words had sealed his fate. He knew in that moment that his loyalty belonged to the first prince for all eternity, whether he wanted it to or not. His career stagnated, however. For all the honour it was to work directly under the first prince, it cut him off from all possibilities of promotion. He'd served the first prince for six years before taking this transfer, and he'd only earned a single first-class merit, which he got only because he earned a second-class merit for each year of loyal service. If he'd stayed by the prince's side, it would have taken him another three years to earn a promotion to major.

The comrads he'd left behind on the battlefield, however, had long since surpassed him. Many had fallen, of course, such was war, but those who hadn't, and hadn't been sent home on stretchers, were ranks above him now. Lederfanc was only the one with the most frequent contact with Skri. He valued his safety very highly, which was one of the reasons he'd not asked for a transfer earlier, but Lederfanc's latest promotion finally overcame his natural aversion to danger and made him finally apply for a field command.

The prince granted his request and gave him 1st Rangers. The prince had told him that, while it was one of the most dangerous positions he could get, it also gave him the greatest shot at a rapid climb up the hierarchy. The prince's words had proven prophetic indeed. He'd had this command for just six months now, and already he'd equalled his merits over the previous six years.

Skri had drunk too much this evening. He had probably done so out of relief at finally getting a promotion. Six and a half years it had taken him, so long it felt almost unreal. He doubted he'd make colonel by fifty if he hadn't taken a field command. He would not have had to worry about his old days if he retired with such a rank. A farm and a comfortable retirement would have been all but guaranteed, but he had greater ambitions.

Claude shifted around awkwardly as Skri apologised to him for butting in front of him for the position of tribesman. He'd felt really bad for it, and it was quite awkward for him, who was, Claude's knighthood considered, his subordinate's junior. It would have been another thing if he'd been a major when he came in, as he'd have been at least Claude's equal, but he'd been but an unknighted captain when he took the command.

That had been the primary reason why he'd unquestioningly accepted all of Claude's suggestions. Near the bottom of the barrel he admitted he felt inferior to Claude even when it came to combat. He did not think he could match Claude in a fight. On top of that, he didn't think he could match him on the field of battle either. He'd scrutinised every comma and period in the report on the Battle of Squirrel Village, and he had come to the conclusion that he would have lost had he been in Claude's shoes. He didn't even think he could have held on for a week either.

Claude could only smile awkwardly. He didn't care for the higher position. He'd only felt miffed because he felt he'd been somewhat cheated out of a command all protocol said he should have been given, not because he had particularly desired it. In fact, he felt as relieved as miffed at not being given the command. His workload increased with every promotion, and he was getting fed up with it. Both his previous and current superiors had extensive experience with large and intricate workloads and commands, Lederfanc because of his background in logistics, and Skri because his background with the first prince. They also had a far more extensive network of connections to lean on in a time of need.

Claude had but three years of history with the military, and no special background preceding that. The only person of consequence he knew was Baroness Maria, and he was loath to get her involved in anything.

He could not deny, however, that he was the core of the 1st Clan. In fact, it was no overstatement to say he was 1st Clan. The offers were unwaveringly loyal to him, and his men had absolute, unquestioning faith in him. If he marched into a forest fire, they would charge in with him without wavering.

The same could not be said for the other three clans. Their commanders were new to the unit and had stood as Claude's equals the entire time. They'd never taken a single order from him, despite most of their movements being his idea, their orders had always come from Skri, and from Lederfanc before him. Claude didn't doubt he could whip them into line eventually, but he felt the time would be better spent tiring out his Sheila.

Speaking of her, he'd gone to town with Myjack and Gum after the battle for Squirrel, and bought everything the girl needed for her new abode. The two finished a bottle of wine in a couple of minutes, then exchanged another bottle's worth of saliva before the girl surrendered her purity.

Claude was quite fond of his otherworldly lover. Whether it was true love or not he didn't know, however. His wife had cheated on him in his past life, and he'd never had any close relations with a woman again before his transmigration. Intercourse had lost all emotional meaning to him. And he'd especially dismissed the thought of ever feeling anything akin to love again.

He'd found familial love soon after transmigrating, however.

He shared a deep brotherly love with Welikro and Borkal. Kefnie was a difficult case, however. She was clearly deeply fond of him, but, while he found her quite likeable, he felt nothing that could begin to be called affection or love. That was not to say he didn't find her quite attractive; she was delicately refined, pleasant on the eyes, and had an innocent, if not naive, heart. His mother certainly considered her the perfect daughter in law -- even though they were not married.

For all his appreciation of her virtues, however, she did not move his heart. He'd betrothed himself to her only out of pity and a vague sense of duty after she'd discovered his being a magus and yet still confessed her love. Had he not met Sheila, he would have wedded her without a second thought and probably eventually grown fond of her, if not ever truly loved her.

He had met Sheila, however, and while he could not say he loved her, he did feel his heart beat faster whenever they were together. And that fact troubled him deeply now. If he were only one thing, he was a man of his word, but he and Sheila shared a bond he and Kefnie never could. They were both magi, they stood on the same mountain and looked out over the same valley. Not to mention that together they could both walk much faster along the path of magic. If he married Kefnie and was eventually found out as a magus, she would be doomed. Sheila, at the very least, stood a much better chance of escaping if it came to that.

That reality chilled any inclination to military ambition he had. The higher he climbed the more he would be under a microscope, and thus the more likely he was to be found out. He had no particular sense of loyalty to the Stellins, either. They were only the devils he knew, which was preferable to the devils he didn't. He was only in the army in the first place because that damned mayor just had to be a busybody.

He would much rather have stood guard in Squirrel for the rest of the war and requested an honourable discharge the day after the peace treaty was signed. He had outdone himself, however, and became too valuable as a frontline commander. He supposed he did have to count his blessings, however; he had at least avoided the heaviest fighting the war had to offer.

Maria's letter and subsequent interference -- of her own damned accord -- had given him a quick promotion, a comfortable command, and then put him with the second prince, which had kept him out of the bloody sieges Bluefeather conducted during the initial offensive.

His abandonment by Bluefeather had been another blessing in disguise. It had given him the chance to catch the first prince's eye, who'd put him in a unit where he could best put his ideas on warfare to use, and develop an approach to combat and battle that kept him and his men as safe as was possible under the circumstances. Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley had definitely not been a blessing, however, but his tactics had kept him alive even when the bastard had sent him into the thickest freys he could find.

The worst situation, by far, which was the direct result of the bastard's machinations, was his marching on the enemy camp in the middle of the front row of the unit's formation. He'd made it through, wounded as he'd been, however, and it had secured him his next promotion.

Things had gone smoothly, minus a couple bumps here and there, since. He'd hoped to keep things as they were for the rest of the war. Life was not known for being obliging, however. At least he'd avoided taking over the entire tribe, miffing as the way it had happened was.

Chapter 276 - Supply Difficulties

The 6th month was quite leisurely for Claude. 1st Ranger Tribe was stationed at that piece of forgotten land and they didn't discover the slightest trace of the enemy. Even the mounted scouts they sent into the great plains for three days and nights weren't able to find a sign of enemy troop movement.

The 2nd, 3rd and 4th tribes, which had entered Askilin from its northern border, didn't discover anything either. They had already made their way across a third of the plains' area and didn't encounter any nomadic tribes, save for some scattered herder settlements.

After word got out, those at frontline command breathed a sigh of relief. Based on the current situation, it was likely that Canas had focused all its forces in Northbay with the intent on guarding the most economically productive area in the duchy.

Northbay was the largest natural bay in Canas, as well as all of Eastern Freia. It was the perfect naval and fishing port. There were four cities in near Northbay and the capital of Canpast was located there. It was the prime area of the duchy. It was incredibly likely that the gathered forces of Canas would be making a defensive stand there.

Ever since Skri's drunken and heartfelt talk with Claude, Claude felt a little awkward being around his superior officer. Skri, on the other hand, seemed completely normal, as if he had forgotten about the matter the night before completely. Nevertheless, he did come to Castle Landes to give Claude and the rest some good news. The duke of Askilin had surrendered. Askilin was the second nation to be wiped out during that war.

Duke Askilin had already ended up being Aueras' prisoner since the beginning of the war. The nation already suffered a huge setback in the very beginning and they were the biggest loser in the Alliance. When the Alliance's newly constructed corps' counterattack couldn't breach Aueran defences. Duke Askilin began to lose all hope and became delusional to some extent. He decided to go to the frontlines to boost the troops' morale and stoke their loyalty to the nation.

However, he realised the soldiers of the newly formed corps didn't have the slightest will to fight at all. Even the noble officers hadn't drilled their men in battle formations in a long time. While they managed to rely on their superior numbers to take two or three of the enemy's lines of defence, they suffered huge casualties. The soldiers weren't able to break through the last one.

After that, the path through Pikleit Mountains was fully repaired and reinforcements poured into the three southern prefectures. Duke Askilin had no choice but to give the order to switch to a defensive stance. They were to fortify their and prepare for a long, protracted battle to hold the enemy back. He, on the other hand, returned to Bravisosburg to oversee the situation.

What the duke didn't think would happen was the Auerans' attack two days after he left the frontlines. The corps over there crumbled in no time and the enemy breached deep into their territory. On the second day the duke returned to the ducal capital, Aueras' mounted scouts had already shown up at Bravisosburg. Just like that, the duke was trapped inside his city and didn't even have the time to pack up and escape.

Following that, the irregular corps arrived and completely encircled Bravisosburg, putting an end to the desire of the duke to break out and escape. It wasn't that he didn't have an opportunity to leave, but his family was there with him as well as the few warehouses of his wealth. It wouldn't be hard for him to escape alone, but that would mean abandoning his family and wealth and he would have to peddle around without his dignity to make a living. So, the duke made up his mind to fortify the walls of Bravisosburg for a stubborn resistance.

Surprisingly, however, the two irregular corps of Aueras didn't launch an attack immediately. Instead, they set up camp and continued their tight encirclement. Duke Askilin thought that the enemy was trying to win by waiting for the city to run out of food, but the duke wasn't panicked in the slightest. He had enough food stored up to last everyone within two whole years. He wasn't afraid of a standstill.

It was only until the end of the 6th month that the duke finally realised the enemy's plan. Two heavy-siege cannons were dragged by countless peasants and beasts of burden to the walls of Bravisosburg. What's more troubling for the duke was the cannons were produced by his duchy. After the war began, the three southern prefectures famed for their industrial prowess worked hard to forge those two cannons to show the might of the duchy and the Alliance.

However, they had to leave those two gigantic siege cannons in the three southern prefectures. They were far too heavy and difficult to move. People began to treat those cannons as statues and left it to the mercy of the elements. They were claimed as spoils of the Aueran army after Bluefeather took over the three southern prefectures.

After Prince Hansbach made his way to the area, he was quickly intrigued in the siege cannons and gathered his technicians to maintain and study them. He was informed that those cannons were still operational and were capable of unseen destructive power.

Just like that, the capital city of Askilin, Bravisosburg, was decided by the first prince to be the test target of the siege cannons. Moving those two cannons did present itself to be a humongous undertaking that consumed much manpower and resources, but the Aueran military simply didn't care. They were in enemy territory and had tons of free labour and beasts of burden to use. They didn't even have to spend much of the prince's extra funds. Not only that, dragging those two cannons across the road to Bravisosburg would only serve to flatten and toughen the road.

When the duke saw those two cannons, he almost had an immediate mental breakdown. He of all people was aware of how powerful they were. It fired a metal round that weighed a few hundred taels that was the size of a face washbasin. No matter how tough his castle walls, it wouldn't be able to withstand the bombardment of those two cannons. Bravisosburg would be no more in a few short days.

So, he hurriedly sent an envoy to reach out. After obtaining the guarantee personally signed by the first prince to ensure that Duke Askilin, his family and his personal wealth wouldn't be touched, Duke Askilin was quick to surrender. That was how the Duchy of Askilin ended.

The Askilin's extermination relieved the forces of the Alliance that were already stretched far too thin. Currently, the scales of war were tipped heavily in Aueras' favour. Two duchies had been exterminated and Rimodra, that was sandwiched on both fronts, seemed to near its end as well. That was especially considering the fact that their largest aid had been the four Askilinian corps. Now that Askilin was defunct, the forces they left in Rimodra became a greatly unstable element.

The Alliance wanted to keep the four corps under the control of the Alliance. They tried offering the high officers and nobles money and women and began talks about rebuilding Askilin after defeating Aueras. While those noble officers were by no means hot-blooded people, they agreed with the notion of rebuilding the duchy.

The problem was the surrendered Duke Askilin was extremely cooperative with the first prince's instructions. Very quickly, he ordered his aide to head to the camp of the four corps and announce the duke's surrender, as well as sentiments such as how the war was over and they could finally return home. They were instructed to discard their weapons and surrender to the Aueran army. That was how most of the men of the four corps left while the nobles were thinking of what to do. What remained numbered less than a corps.

With the soldiers ditching their posts, they handed the defence lines they manned to the Aueran army as well. That was how the strong defences suddenly had a hole opened in it. Enemy troops began to pour in. The top brass of Rimodra as well as the Alliance knew that the decisive moment was over and hurriedly ordered the Alliance's navy to help and keep the three port cities of Rimodra secured. That way, the Alliance's army would be able to escape their predicament through the sea.

Smooth as things were going on the frontlines, 1st Ranger Tribe was still faced with an inconvenient truth. Southern Mountain Crossing posed to be quite an obstacle to their supply route. While the road from the three prefectures to Squirrel Village was already repaired by the labourers Claude sent and a carriage could barely squeeze through, supplies could only be sent through the path stretching from Squirrel Village to the great plains using workhorses.

Frontline command's logistics staff made an estimation and came to a conclusion that they could no longer send any more people into the Land of the Free Nobles as there was no local manpower to make use of or supplies to appropriate. Their supplies wouldn't be able to keep up if so much as one more tribe had to be transferred there. As a result, the area was defended only by 1st Ranger Tribe.

However, the officers at frontline command weren't worried as 2nd Ranger Tribe would be able to meet up with the 1st if they continue onwards into the plains. There was also no need to worry about the remnant forces of Canas. The enemy had probably all gathered at Northbay, which was why none of them were spotted on the plains so far.

Currently, 1st Ranger Tribe relied fully on the slow supply route from the rear. The keepers that took over the tribe's defence assignment back there were also tasked with protecting their supply route. But soon, the keepers began to complain that they had lost seven soldiers and eleven workhorses as well as a large amount of food for the past month due to the horses falling off the ridge into the valley, bringing the food and soldiers down with them.

There were many reasons the accidents happened, but chief among them was how much 1st Ranger Tribe rushed them. Fortunately, the three supply trips each month was able to sustain the tribe's needs. They could reduce the trips to twice or once per month after that.

The resource the tribe lacked most was food. The land had been abandoned for nearly a year and weeds could be seen everywhere with not a single grain of crop in sight. There were 1356 people in 1st Ranger Tribe in total. Coupled with the thousand-odd elderly left behind in the area and the 400-odd youth labourers that would be moved there, there were more than three thousand people. Without being able to get food locally, they had no choice but to rely on the supply route.

Each horse could only transport some two hundred taels of food on the mountain path, while three thousand people required at least five thousand taels of food per day. While a single trip with more than a hundred workhorses could transport up to 50 thousand taels of food, it would only last half a month even if it was rationed tightly.

Skri had the captives cultivate farmland to plant potatoes and other crops with short harvest cycles in hopes that they would be able to relieve their food situation. Claude, on the other hand, got his soldiers to fish in rivers and lakes as well as hunt in the mountains. They were barely able to make up for the other half month's food requirement with that, as well as the herds of livestock they got when they arrived.

They didn't lack any ammunition, however. The tribe had enough with them to last them more than one month, but Claude wasn't too satisfied with that amount. He told Skri that they would at least need more than three months' worth of ammunition, food and other supplies. If the keepers weren't willing to keep the supply line going continuously, he was prepared to form his own transport convoy.

Skri was also greatly troubled by the lack of supplies. The main problem was the thousand plus elderly people who couldn't work for the food they were getting. They were a huge burden on the tribe, yet they couldn't just chase them away. After all, they would become subjects of the kingdom after the war.

"You still think the enemy will come?" Skri looked at Claude with shock. "Didn't frontline command say that the enemy is very possibly turtling up in Northbay?"

"I am not sure. I hope their guesses are right, but I have this feeling that they will come. The current situation is far too odd. I don't know for sure that the enemy is turtled up in Northbay. We need confirmation from our scouts to be sure. But so far, not a single trace of the enemy has been detected on the plains. This is far too suspicious.

"I have a feeling that the enemy is plotting a huge scheme. Otherwise they wouldn't let us enter the plains so easily. This is their territory and they ought to send out their light cavalry to wipe out our mounted scouts to blind us, whether they're preparing themselves to attack or defend. It's common military doctrine, yet that's not what they're doing. So, I suggest that we stock up on supplies while they haven't struck. It can't hurt to be prepared."

"You're right. We have to prepare well lest we come to regret it," Skri said with a nod.

Chapter 277 - Fall of Rimodra

As much as Claude wanted to slack off until the end of the war, that didn't mean he didn't have a sense of danger. While the nobles had given up on their fiefs in Canas on their own accord, given how relatively rural a place it was among the great plains, that didn't mean the peaceful times would continue.

He constantly had the hunch that the Canasian nobles would return with the army of their nation. It would be an all-out battle sooner or later. Because of the constant nagging feeling, Claude had Skri prepare as many supplies as he could in anticipation of a huge battle. He also had his men fortify Castle Landes properly.

Fortunately, Skri supported Claude's stance on the matter and did whatever he could to help. They were, after all, a lone unit in enemy territory, and they occupied such a large area to boot. Coupled with their difficult supply situation due to the less than ideal route, any officer of sound mind would feel a little anxious.

Given the terrain of the area, all the enemy needed was one line of light-cavalry troops to surround 1st Ranger Tribe in their four castles, as well as cut off the supply route linking the castles together. So, nobody was against Claude's suggestion to hurry the transportation of supplies up. They knew that once the castles they defended ran out of food and ammunition, their only options were surrender or death.

During the 7th month, all the attention of the Aueran army was turned to Rimodra. Frontline command decided to exterminate that duchy for good by the 8th month. They had the royal guard lead four to five irregular corps to launch incessant and intense attacks on the army of the Alliance. That way, the royal guard could get the merits for exterminating Rimodra.

As for Bluefeather that had been defending the borders of the three southern prefectures, they were transferred to the capital of Askilin, Bravisosburg, for reorganisation. Once the battles in Rimodra concluded, Bluefeather would head to the Great Plains of Canas on their way to Northbay.

The tides of war were in Aueras' favour. Everyone knew that the Alliance was practically done for after the fall of Sidins, Askilin and Rimodra, that was soon to follow. Canas and Nasri alone wouldn't be able to resist Aueras' might. The war had raged on in Eastern Freia for nearly four years and the participating nations were more or less spent. The only difference between the sides was that Aueras had the upper hand. They could press on more easily and stood a chance for final victory.

"We've already stockpiled enough food for a month and a half, as well as ammunition for three months. The soldiers running the supply line are complaining about being driven like slaves. Now that our crops are ready to harvest, our need for food is greatly relieved. Do you think we should take a break and let our men rest?" Skri asked Claude.

Claude had come to tribe headquarters because he wanted news of the developments on the frontlines. Skri was Prince Hansbach's personal aide, so he had many contacts there. He could easily get the information he needed through carrier eagles, and that was the perfect opportunity for Claude to grasp the outlook of the war as a whole.

After reading half a month's worth of information digests, Claude shook his head. "We still have to stock up however we can. We need at the very least food to last us three months. Don't you find it weird after reading these reports? Even though all we hear is word of victory, the targets our army's been fighting have only been the new Rimodran corps. Not a single soldier of the Alliance showed up on the battlefield."

Skri did indeed fail to notice that detail. He read the reports again and it was clear to him now. "That's true... I recall there was a standing corps of Nasri, three Canasian light-cavalry corps and four Askilinian corps among those that fled to Rimodra. The rest of the forces were the newly formed ones of Rimodra...

"Nasri's standing corps plays the role of home defence in the Alliance's army and doesn't get deployed on the frontlines for no good reason. The three Canasian light-cavalry corps had been quite active on the frontlines, but they only have about two corps' of men left after their casualties. As for the four Askilinian corps, they're the main force on the frontlines and suffered the most casualties. While they do have enough men for four corps, they're only as good as two. Since Duke Askilin's surrender, most of the four corps surrendered to us and I heard they have less than a corps' worth of men remaining.

"While Duke Rimodra managed to cobble together some ten plus corps, they comprise mostly conscripted soldiers who are poor at fighting and treated badly. They're often used as labourers and cannon fodder on the frontlines and have never been a match for our irregulars. Usually, the Rimodran forces only take up defensive posts. Yet most of the reports only focus on defeated Rimodran forces without the slightest mention of the troops of other nations. It looks like the enemy is beginning to shift their focus. I have to write a letter to remind frontline command immediately."

The mere look was enough to gather that the only target the enemy could shift their focus to was the sea route. Their goal was clear: it could be none other than Northbay in Canas. That was the nearest port that belonged to the Alliance. As long as they travelled near the Askilinian coast, they would be able to reach Northbay in three days and nights.

"Let me deal with the logistics," Claude offered. He wanted to use this chance to meet his lover in the witch's forest. The transport unit had to rest a night at Squirrel Village first anyway before leaving during the next day, which was just enough time for a rendezvous. "We can also switch out the soldiers from the transport unit in shifts. That way, the others can let loose in Squirrel's tavern as well."

"Alright, you call the shots," Skri agreed without hesitation.

But when Claude returned with the transport unit from Squirrel Village, he noticed Skri's mood was rather down.

"What's going on?"

He soon found out about the root of his troubles. The staff officers in frontline command also noticed the pattern and came to the same conclusion. However, they had no way of stopping the enemy from doing so. On land, they needed to slowly expand their defence line and occupy more territory to encroach upon the three port cities near Rimodra. The Alliance's commanders were knowingly using the Rimodran corps as cannon fodder to slow Aueras' advance.

Since Rimodra was about to fall anyway, they might as well use up their soldiers and let them die on the battlefield or end up as Aueras' captives. The Alliance didn't hold high hopes for being able to hold their defence lines. All that mattered was the Aueran units would suffer as many casualties as possible with each occupation. The reasoning behind that was simple: the more casualties the Aueran army suffered in their conquests, the more they would have to pay to administer their occupied territory and the more time they needed to advance.

It wasn't so much as a scheme as pure textbook strategy. Even if the enemy figured it out, it would be hard for them to thwart those plans. During the past half month, the Aueran troops used heavy bombardment and aggressive infantry attacks to breach one enemy defence line after another and deal huge casualties to the Rimodrans. While frontline command tried their best to goad the enemy into surrender to minimise casualties, that required time. But every second they dallied, the Alliance's army would be closer to their goal.

It was said that countless ships were sailing near the coast of Askilin in the direction of Northbay. The escort ships of the Alliance's navy defended the merchant and transport vessels that ferried the Alliance's troops from Rimodra to Canas.

The reason Skri was feeling down was he heard from his friends in frontline command that Prince Hansbach had completely exploded with anger, cursing the kingdom's navy for being spineless in front of everyone for allowing the huge opportunity to exterminate the army of the Alliance to slip by. If Fearless had sailed near the coasts of Rimodra, the enemy would definitely not attempt such a daring endeavour! In his fit of rage, the prince smashed his office completely. The new aide didn't tell the prince off from throwing a temper tantrum like Skri usually would.

Skri said that if he were by the prince's side, he would definitely stop him from freaking out. As the first in line to the throne, he shouldn't show that side of him to the rest lest others found a way to exploit it. Additionally, the views the first prince held on the navy might affect his ascension to the throne. While Prince Hansbach did have the support of the army, the navy held a huge influence in the kingdom. They built up a wide network of benefits and contacts through the profits from smuggling goods between the two continents.

That was the first time Claude had heard about any internal conflict among the top brass, though Skri didn't go deep into the details. Having worked six years by the first prince's side, Skri had seen all too clearly the beneficial relationships the upper class had, so he was worried that the first prince's tantrum would bring some ill effects.

"Worrying about the first prince should be his aide's job, not yours. If you're so worried, why not return to his side?" Claude said cursorily.

Rimodra was completely exterminated during the end of the 8th month, but the Alliance left a huge mess for Aueras to clean up before they left. The Rimodran nobles left with their families and wealth as well as their armies. The Alliance's navy also reduced the three port cities to rubble. All Aueras' army got was scorched land as well as three hundred war refugees. Most of them were elderly and the youths that remained were injured or crippled from the war.

Prince Hansbach now felt that it would've been better if they didn't attack Rimodra. Exterminating the duchy did sound good on paper, but it didn't bring Aueras much benefit. Instead, the kingdom was forced to uphold a huge burden. Who knew how much manpower and funds it had to invest in the war-torn lands to restore some semblance of daily life to the citizens there.

Almost all the plans they set up in advance had been delayed by the occupation of Rimodra. As for 1st Ranger Tribe, which was stationed in the Great Plains of Canas, they had been completely forgotten. Frontline command was busy putting out the flames of war and restoring order and civilian life rather than planning for an attack on Canas. Rimodra was now Aueran territory, after all. If they didn't offer aid, countless refugees would die during the winter. It was a responsibility the kingdom was not willing to shrug off.

After the Alliance's army was transferred to Northbay, they quickly resumed their scouting activities on the Great Plains. During the end of the 8th month, he received reports of sightings of enemy mounted scouts from his own. There were even a few small-scale conflicts. Within one short week, 9 of his 24 mounted scouts were lost. There were three that managed to return injured. The casualties numbered up to a tent's men.

"One week ago, our scouts reported sightings of enemy scouts in this area--" Claude pointed at a small red flag on the map. "--One week later, we discovered enemy scouts in this place. It's only a day away on horseback from us. The enemy must be widening their survey scope. Their mounted scout tents are approaching us. I estimate that they'll start scouting in our turf in less than three days. The moment we discover a tribe of enemy forces setting up camp near us, we can almost be sure than an attack is about to ensue."

Major Skri looked worriedly at the locations on the map with the red flags. They represented the approaching enemy scouts. "How do you think we should deal with these scouts?"

Claude smiled. "Did you forget the reason the ranger tribe was formed in the first place? The first prince formed us to ambush and counter enemy mounted scouts. Let's dig up some of our old tricks and show our foes such good hospitality that they'll never be able to leave, shall we?"

Chapter 278 - Mistake

Bang!

A puff of white smoke burst out of the gun barrel. Blood spurted from the last mounted scout, staining his blue uniform on his way to the ground. His mount reared, then crashed to the ground nearby.

Gum couldn't hold back his curiosity and shot up to have a look.

"Sir's shot was amazing! It passed right through him and hit the horse's head! You killed both with one shot!"

It was merely coincidence, however. Claude hadn't tried to do the horse at all. It was hardly surprising he did, however. His angle did make it rather possible, and the Mark 3's power at that range certainly could shove the round right through a man with enough power left over to do a lot of damage to the next hit.

The other soldiers reloaded nervously while Claude handed his musket to Myjack. The three had brought five muskets. Gum usually slung three over his shoulders so Claude could fire thrice without having to wait for a reload.

Claude had the men clean the area once they'd finished reloading. They had just ambushed a tent of Canasian mounted scouts. He'd suffered no casualties. It was a rare achievement by 1st Ranger standards. The tribe had suffered several dozen serious injuries and fatalities in the last couple of months. Most engagements sent back one or more on stretchers.

It wasn't Claude's fault, however. Most of the casualties were in the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th clans. Most got hit because they made stupid mistakes no veteran would have, but that couldn't be helped since they were mostly greenhorns. They had never fought mounted scouts before. The only members of the original tribe left were Claude, Gum, Moriad, Dyavid, and Mazik. They were very much the 'old guard'.

The Battle of Wilf Stronghold had done the worst to thin out their numbers. Rosley had marched the men, men whom Claude had trained for months into the most capable musketeers in the kingdom, maybe even on the continent, to their deaths, shoulder to shoulder. Most of the survivors were then moved out to form the cores of the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Rangers when they were formed shortly after. In fact, Claude seriously doubted any of his original comrades would still be in 1st Rangers had they not been in the infirmary with him at the time.

The men transferred out, while occupying senior positions in the other tribe, were still too few to truly affect their doctrines, so Claude and his clan were the only ones in the army capable of effectively engaging the enemy scouts. Not even Mazik could stand as their equal.

The situation could not be allowed to continue as it was, so Claude had little choice but to send Moriad and Dyavid to the 2nd and 3rd Clan to train them. He didn't have enough experienced men, however, so the 4th Clan would just have to wait. It took more than just doctrine to effectively ambush, however, it took an eye for it, a feel for it, both of which took time and experience to develop, and neither of which any of the other tribes possessed. As a result, all their attempts thus far had still done nothing but add to their death counts.

The prime suspect in 2nd Clan's failings was Captain Hamocklin. The clansman didn't have the head for on-the-spot decisions and adapting to actively developing situations. He simply hid is men in the brush and had them take potshots at the enemy. If it were that easy, the original ranger tribe wouldn't have to recruit new members to make up for the casualties constantly back then. The troops Canas sent out to scout were all veterans who had fought for years in the war. As mounted scouts, they were really sensitive to the fishiness of situations and could easily detect ambushes. The red of the Aueran uniform didn't help either; it made it far too easy for the enemy to detect them amidst bushes or shrubs.

Claude would always come up with a detailed plan before he headed out on an ambush. Factors he considered included where the enemy would be interested in, which terrain would be suitable for an ambush, how they should camouflage themselves to decrease the risk of being detected as well as how to deal with emergency situations on the battlefield. Even the order of the troops to fire first and what to do if they ran into the enemy before arriving at the designated ambush location were things officers should consider.

Unlike what Claude imagined, the locations where the tribe got into conflict with the enemy mounted scouts were the places Canas was most interested in. They sent more and more scouts into the area, starting from small, three-to-four-people groups to a whole tent. After losing up to three bands' worth of mounted scouts, Canas' military decided to send out a whole clan to investigate. They split the clan into four bands to scout the area in four separate directions.

Claude wasn't able to ambush the enemy under such circumstances and could only allow the 300-odd enemies to roam freely in the area. Where the terrain was advantageous, Claude would fight them openly. But such places were far and few between on the Great Plains of Canas, where light cavalry was free to roam. All 1st Ranger Tribe could do was guard their castles.

It took only two days for Canas' light-cavalry clan to find out that only a tribe of enemy troops was defending the area. They sent out a tent of scouts each to observe Castle Landes, Viscount Vikdor's castle, and Baron Kraft's castle from afar and had the rest of their clan to Count Krilaus' castle where the tribe headquarters was situated.

It didn't take long for Claude to spot black smoke wafting into the skies from afar as musket and cannon fire reverberated nonstop. Claude wasn't too worried about Count Krilaus' castle falling, as the whole of 4th Clan was stationed there. The light cavalrymen that numbered less than a clan wouldn't dare attack a castle with fewer numbers than the enemy, unless they were fools. How, then would he explain the signs of a battle taking place?

During the 9th month, Claude obtained more than thirty war horses throughout his many excursions. Coupled with the war horses they already had, he could make more or less a band-sized cavalry unit. However, the enemy had one tent of light cavalrymen observing Castle Landes. If Claude sent men out, there was no escaping detection. Claude wasn't certain he could make it out unharmed if he ran into the rest of the clan that was returning. Not to mention, his troops were mostly infantrymen. They couldn't compare to Canas' trained cavalrymen.

It was then when he realised the mistake of arranging the four clans of the tribe into a rhombus-shaped defence array. The first error was 1st Ranger Tribe was an infantry unit that didn't have much mobility. The other three clans wouldn't be able to adequately provide support to the clan that was being attacked. They simply didn't have enough men and if they didn't gather together, they wouldn't be able to pose much of a threat to their enemy.

The second error was while taking four different castles made it seem like they controlled the area, their forces were also spread thin. In fact, the castles 1st, 2nd and 3rd clans defended didn't have civilians living nearby. There was no need to keep the area defended in the first place. Back then, all Claude had in mind was to keep four castles occupied so that the enemy would have to divide their forces into four to take four different castles. He had made the elementary mistake of treating the enemy as a fool. They could just as easily ignore the three other castles while they focused their forces on one. All they had to do was attack Count Krilaus' castle.

Currently, the enemy had around three hundred cavalry troops and their mobility was enough to render the other three clans' reinforcements useless. Claude wasn't even able to find out what was going on in tribe headquarters. Losing Count Krilaus' castle would mean losing the escape path of the tribe's other three clans. All that would await them was surrender or extermination.

The more Claude thought about it, the more frustrated he got. He really wanted to give himself two square slaps on the face. But now, he could do naught but watch the tent of light cavalrymen as he anxiously awaited the skies to turn dark.

The tent of enemies didn't leave as he expected. They lit a few bonfires in the distance to illuminate the area . Claude knew that the enemy mainly had their eyes on the drawbridge of the castle; if anyone were to leave the castle, they would have to use it, and lowering the drawbridge caused quite a huge commotion that was detectable even from a distance.

What they didn't expect was that the river that was seen as a natural barrier by the enemy would actually be used as a route to attack them. The seven to eight soldiers Claude picked had readied themselves. Each of them carried an inflated leather float and placed them inside the moat-river of the castle before lightly getting on top of it and floating towards the enemy camp in silence.

The best place to set up camp on the plains was beside a water source for ease of watering the mounts or livestock. The tent of enemy cavalry had set up camp near the river some six hundred metres away from Castle Landes. They were veterans and also very disciplined. They would always have half the men on night duty while the other half slept. Every twenty to thirty minutes, they would send two horsemen near the castle to check for any movement. The ones on duty beside the bonfires would also pay attention to the river moat and drawbridge. To the riders of the plains, the moat was a natural barrier they wouldn't even imagine crossing.

Claude and his tent of men reached the shore some 50 metres from the nearest bonfire. If they got nearer, the sounds of their emergence might alert the enemies. Everyone was careful not to make any unnecessary sound. They used the shrubs near the river as cover to carefully check on the oiled cloth that wrapped their muskets. They lit their slow matches and prepared to shoot.

Hoof sounds could be heard approaching from the distance. The two riders had made their rounds and were on their way back. They spoke cheerfully and loudly when they neared the bonfire, reporting that they saw nothing of note. The enemy, they supposed, were obediently hiding within their castles and they spotted not a single person around the drawbridge either.

One of the riders, still mounted, unintentionally turned to where Claude and the others were. "Weird... Why are there fireflies during this season..."

That was indeed how the lit tip of the slow matches appeared to him.

"Fire!" Claude ordered.

Gunshots rang out and six enemies, mounted, standing and sitting, all fell after one volley. The remaining six enemies were stunned awake and hurriedly armed themselves, though they were far too late. The soldiers that had fired leapt into action with their bayonets on towards the bonfires. It took only a few seconds for them to cover the 50-metre distance. Before the enemy even got a grasp of the situation, they had been impaled to the ground.

Bang! Claude fired once more and shot down the one enemy that tried to mount and escape. The tent of enemy light cavalry had been completely wiped out.

"Clear out the battlefield and dry out your clothes. Let's return to the castle and get a good rest. We'll head to reinforce tribe headquarters first thing tomorrow morning." Claude sighed with relief. With the pesky tent of enemy troops out of the way, they could get good results during the battle tomorrow.

And things played out as he expected. Afternoon the next day, Claude appeared near Count Krilaus' castle abruptly with two bands of men and four large carriages and took the Canasian light cavalry by surprise as they were raiding the nearby settlement. The enemy hurriedly sent out two waves of men to respond, intent on capitalising on their mobility to wipe out the reinforcements.

But Claude used the four carriages to defend his flanks. He had his men push two light-infantry cannons out and made some thirty corpses of the riders that came his way with two scattershot blasts.

Seeing that there would be no advantage in holding back, Claude had two more cannons pushed out as the former two were being reloaded. The enemy quickly blew the horn signal to retreat and the whole clan left in a flash.

In the settlement, Claude found the injured Major Skri. One of his hands was hanging from a cast. He said his arm was grazed by a passing bullet and that it was no big deal.

"Why didn't you hole up in the castle?" Claude was fuming.

Skri shook his head and teared up as he croaked, "I... I couldn't bear watching..."

When the clan of light cavalry arrived, Skri had all the members of 4th Clan and the captives retreat into the castle, but left the elderly and women in the settlement. He believed they would be fine, since they were subjects of Canas in the first place. He didn't think the Canasian light cavalry would be so merciless as to start killing them off.

They even publicly violated some of the female refugees at the foot of the castle. Those were the families of the youths they recruited. The youths begged for Skri to send troops out to save their family, and the soldiers who couldn't bear to let the violation continue also angrily demanded to be allowed to fight. In a rush of impulse, Skri decided to fight the light-cavalry troops in the settlement.

Chapter 279 - Withdrawal

"You ended up quite lucky," Claude said.

Skri had taken three bands out of the castle to save the poor folk. They lasted a day and a night of battle thanks to three things. For one, the enemy cavalry hadn’t thought they would sally forth. They lost a tent before they even realised what was happening.

For another, Count Loirkad Bar Krilaus, the previous lord of the land, probably had ambitions of turning the castle town into a full-fledged city, and his abandoned construction works nullified the enemy’s advantage in mobility. The last of the construction works stopped far enough away to still be just within firing range of the castle walls. The Canasian cavalry attempted two charges, lost four men, and gave up.

Finally, Count Krilaus had been the most powerful noble in the region, and had not skimped on his projects. The town was built out of stone, rather than the hastily and shoddily built wooden shacks found in most of the region’s villages and towns.

Skri entered the settlement and immediately moved his men into the buildings, slaughtering the enemy as they went. The fighting in the buildings and the tight and winding streets made using horses impossible, turning the enemy into mere swordsmen and musketeers.

The smoke Claude had seen was from the buildings Skri had set alight as he’d slowly pulled back behind the escaping civilians. A cannon occasionally boomed from the battlements on the castle walls when the enemy tried to flank along the edge of the town and when they tried to storm the open gate as the crowds of peasants stormed through.

"It’s a little late to say this, but this was really too risky. They might not stand a chance at taking the castle, but they could easily have pinned you in the town and eventually wiped you out. At worst for them, they could just set fire to the village and watch you burn, or slip into the castle with your men and the peasants during the panic."

Claude glanced at the corpses littering every street he could see. Friend and foe, soldier and civilian became one and the same in death.

"I know, it’s easy to admit it after the fact, but I was impulsive," Skri admitted with a forced smile, "I couldn’t just let them slaughter the peasants like animals, at least, not the women and children. They were slaughtering their own people! How could they? Given that the youths and our troops begged us to save them, and our numbers aren't too different, how could I just hole up in the castle?"

Claude would have joined the battle as well had he been in Skri's shoes. His men would have mutinied had he not. It might have been a different matter had they been obviously inferior, but their numbers had been about equal. If he didn't fight, he would be labelled a coward for the rest of his life. He might even be court-martialed for cowardice or dereliction of duty.

The enemy didn't think the defenders would sally forth, so they weren’t prepared for it and had to retreat into the settlement. They were nothing but ducks in the open. They circled the settlement to come at the attacked from the sides, but were immediately set upon by the defenders manning the battlements. The only option left was thus duking it out in bloody street fighting. They lined up along chokepoints in the streets and fired at anything that moved in front of them. They attackers-turned-defenders had inferior firearms, however, and thus couldn’t match their enemy in such tight quarters where every shot counted. In the end, they were left only with setting buildings alight as they withdrew.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have suggested we defend all four castles. If we had stuck to just one or two castles, they wouldn’t have dared to try a raid like this right under our noses, " Claude admitted honestly.

He’d stretched their manpower too thin, and it left their headquarters too poorly defended. His saving grace was that he reached the castle in time to turn the tide before they’d suffered irreparable damage. He couldn’t make effective use of the opportunity his little ambush made, however, because he did not have the speed to catch up to the enemy once they got moving. Just one clan had pushed the entire tribe of musketeers to their limit, if they were to fight an entire tribe of cavalry… it could not even be called a fight.

Had this been in the mountains, it would have been the perfect strategy, but on the open plains it was just asking for a massacre. The enemy could just post a tent of cavalry at each castle and send word to the rest the moment one of the castles showed signs of movement. They would always be fighting a well-prepared enemy. Had Claude not taken out the cavalry watching his castle at night, that would have been exactly what he would have found now. Four cannons or not, he’d have been out-manoeuvred and killed.

He couldn't really be faulted for his mistake, however. He’d not received any true military training in either of his lives, not in the intricacies of command and strategy, at least. He’d been just a sergeant when he’d enlisted with Bluefeather, and had such only been privy to basic combat drill training. He’d come up with everything he had thus far through sheer bloody ingenuity. That wasn’t a problem in and of itself, but he lacked the experience necessary to temper his ingenuity with realism.

While Skri had graduated from the war college, he hadn't specialised in tactics. He had focused on administration. When he had served under the first prince, he had done so as a manager of people and information. While he was a qualified military man, his actual combat experience was less than most sergeants a month into the war. He had seen even fewer engagements than Claude. Add onto that his instinctual referentiality towards Claude because of his guilt over stealing the boy’s promotion, and he could not bring himself to raise an objection to any of his plans even if he’d had an objection to raise. He hadn’t had one, however.

He’d believed in the strategy as much as Claude had. He’d only realised its obvious flaws after the recent fight. He thanked his blessed stars they still had a chance to fix it.

"It's not your fault. I didn't realise how bad the strategy was, either," Skri sighed, "We were too arrogant and thought too highly of ourselves..."

Claude smiled apologetically.

"They were all veteran elites. I suspect they’re the ones sent over from Rimodra, but I don't know what they want from this region. I wouldn’t have sent elites out to such a backwater. "

The 4th Clan’s clansman arrived as Claude finished his sentence. Claude recalled he was a transfer from the rear echelons. His name was Kurdwak, if he remembered correctly, and was a noble. His hands clutched a small piece of paper: the casualty report.

Half of the town’s civilians were dead. They had just 460 left. Just over twenty of the women were still missing, probably smuggled out with the enemy as they retreated. Skri’s forces had taken 61 casualties the previous day, 43 were deceased, 2 crippled, and most of the rest were still far from the woods out as well.

They had found 89 enemy corpses so far. The exact number was a guess, however, as at least 27 were supposed corpses, an estimate based on the volume of shredded and scattered body parts left by Claude’s cannons. Excluding the numbers Claude might have killed, Skri had only exchanged his men’s lives for his enemy’s one for one.

That was already an excellent exchange rate, however. Had this been a fight on the open fields, he’d have been lucky to get one cavalryman for every five of his own.

"I still don't get it. Why would these elites be so cruel to their own countrymen?" Skri muttered.

Claude didn't know either. Kurdwak, however, had a thought.

"Sir, I like to read when I'm free. I recently read a book about Canas. Canas has a very different power structure to the other realms. They haven’t fully stepped into modern feudal society. They’re still very much a tribal society, despite how feudal their settlements may look. The duchy itself isn’t that old, either. It was a loose conflagration of tribes mostly to keep any larger neighbouring state from having designs on them. They only became a duchy after Duke Canas beat down all the other tribes and became the recognised high chief.

"The idea of ‘landed nobility’ is also only as old as the duchy itself. An effort by the duke to lessen the oh-too-frequent tribal feuds. Many of the tribes believe it is their divine right to wander wherever they please, however, so he’d only been able to implement the system partially, in the areas where he could easily make an appearance to quell any unrest, which was mostly around the Viridian Mountains.

"The majority of his lands are still lordless and inhabited only by nomads. As for these conflicts themselves, it’s custom for the victor to take all the young girls and women as bedwarmers and relief, and the livestock as plunder. These tribes still don’t see themselves as fellow subjects under their sovereign, but, instead, see him as an unwelcome nuisance and the other tribes as rivals to be wiped out at the first decent opportunity."

Perhaps it was a cultural thing. Claude and Skri gave each other a look; no doubt, it was the most savage practice they had heard about. After a good moment, Skri asked, "Then what do we do next?"

Claude had considered it beforehand. "We have to gather the four clans here and give up on those three other castles. Count Krilaus' castle is huge enough to hold the whole tribe. However, I think it's best to have a band of men defend the mountain pass behind us. That's our escape route and the route through which we gain our supplies. We have to keep it in our hands.

"I've checked the terrain. It’s hard to navigate and the path through the mountains is narrow. One band of men and four light-infantry cannons should be enough to stop any enemy from breaching through. The only troublesome part of it is we have to construct defence infrastructure there. I wonder if the enemy will afford us that time. As long as we can keep that path and this castle secure, we wouldn't have to fear even a whole line of enemy troops.

"Next, we have to send the captives, the recruited youths and the elderly away. They can't stay here. If the enemy wants to surround us, they will only sap our supplies. They also present an unstable element in our midst. Also, it won't be safe for them to keep them here."

"Alright, that's what we'll do," Skri said with a nod, "Let's send out mounted scouts first to check if the enemy has left. If they have, we have to make the best use of our time to gather our forces and ship all the stored up food and ammunition back from the three castles. By the way, Claude, which band do you think is best for defending the mountain path?"

"Let Moriad's band go. He's quite reliable. Back then, he defended Blackstone Village with his own band, so all we have to do is to assign the four cannoneer squads to him." Claude thought it best to leave it to his minion. If Mazik was put in charge, he might flee as soon as the situation turned south. As for 2nd Clan, 3rd Clan and 4th Clan, Claude didn't know their bandsmen that well.

Soon, the mounted scouts returned and confirmed the enemy's departure.

Claude turned to Skri. "Have everyone withdraw into the castle and leave a band with me. I'll also need all the carriages you have. I'll go to 2nd Clan's location and transport the men and supplies back here."

Chapter 280 - Siege

Claude and Skri were in a huge rush. They couldn't tell if Canas' forces would return soon. So far, only a clan of light cavalry had been sent to investigate them. The two believed the enemy already knew only a tribe was defending the area. If they were to send more troops after that, they would no doubt send a whole line.

But even after Claude gathered the tribe, had fortifications constructed by the pass' entrance, and sent the civilians, captives and youths away, the enemy still didn't return. The mounted scouts they sent had to head out on the plains for three whole days before spotting a trace of the enemy.

The 9th month came and went. Claude and Skri didn't know what was going on. It was as if the enemy had completely forgotten about them. The plain had been very busy that month. 2nd Rangers, which had planned to join them on the plains, were being harassed all the way. They had suffered too many casualties and were forced to withdraw.

The 3rd and 4th tribes were suffering the same fate. They couldn't send out scouts because they never returned. Their report said they were conducting a controlled, fighting withdrawal from the region, but the rate at which their position was changing suggested they were just a smidge slow of an outright flight.

Frontline command sent a report at the end of the month that they had deployed Bluefeather and its two accompanying irregular corps. They'd had enough 'r' and 'r' and were busy moving on the Great Plains. Bluefeather's commander, Lieutenant-General Edbak, was confident he could turn the recent tide of defeats and finally shove the enemy out of Canas.

Bluefeather's chief strategist, Miselk Kor Priest, had gotten into a bloody argument with Edbak. Miselk believed it was too risky to deploy Bluefeather on the Great Plains. Edbak dismissed his concerns as mere cowardice. The Alliance was barely hanging on and now was the time to shove them off the cliff.

The two generals differed so violently in their opinion that a mutual hatred had settled in between them. The first prince was forced to intervene. He relieved Miselk of his post and let Edbak do what he pleased.

It had been a week since that particular bit of news had come. Claude and Skri thought it was likely that Canas would give up on their land in the region and turn their focus on this new threat. They might just get some good rest for once.

Bluefeather and company marched on Northbay not long after. 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Rangers had joined them there as well. The increase in numbers finally relieved the three tribes of their constant attacks. The enemy cavalry instead just kept an eye on things from a safe distance.

Claude headed back to Squirrel as soon as things settled down enough. He blabbered a quick excuse of having to sort out a supply chain issue, though his entire clan knew he just wanted to lighten his load with his lover's help. He returned to the castle the next day, and nearly turned around and went back, thinking he'd gone to the wrong one. The place was in an uproar. He found Skri in his office, literally shaking in his chair, a letter's pages strewn across the desk in front of him, half on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Claude asked.

"They lost... Bluefeather and the rest were defeated..."

"What?!" Claude swiped the top page from Skri's desk and scanned it anxiously.

Indeed, Bluefeather and company had marched into battle just half a day after departing for Northbay. The enemy was far better prepared than they'd thought, and had crushed the two irregular corps in less than three hours. The flanks fell and Bluefeather was surrounded and all but entirely wiped out. Barely a twentieth of their original number had escaped.

The survivors were still on the run, trying to make it back to friendly lines while avoiding open terrain, roads, or populated areas. The first prince had mobilised his other irregulars already to head out and find the survivors before they, too, were found and killed, and had brought his guard out of relief early and pushed them to the border to fill the gap left by the irregulars he moved out.

"How?!" Claude half-shouted as he dropped the sheet of paper.

Only four corps could be transferred from Rimodra to Canas. The first was Nasri's standing corps; while most proficient unit in the Alliance's forces, they were only as strong as an irregular corps of Aueras. There were two other Canasian light-cavalry corps and one corps of soldiers the Askilinian nobles gathered. The four corps were relatively inept to begin with, so how was it that they managed to defeat Bluefeather and the two irregular corps?

Two days later, Skri got some more detailed information from his associates at frontline command. In the battle on the plains, the Alliance used nine whole corps. What caught the Aueran forces most off guard was the two Canasian light-cavalry corps fighting on the Nasrian side of the war had actually returned to Northbay without anyone noticing. They brought along with them one more Nasrian irregular corps to boot.

The Nasrian standing corps that was recently transferred to Northbay fought in conjunction with the two irregular corps that just arrived to block Bluefeather and the other two corps. When both sides encountered each other on the plains, the Nasrian corps got into formation and advanced towards the Auerans.

Aueras hadn't expected to suffer any losses at all in the initial clash. However, Bluefeather soon got their feet together and stopped the Canasian forces' two-pronged attack with their two irregular corps by their flanks.

Bluefeather's response was almost perfect. The flanks of the winged formation was attacked by Canas' cavalry as expected. However, Canas put all they had into the battle and mobilised seven light-cavalry corps. Apart from the two they summoned back from Nasrian soil and the other two that came from Rimodra, they formed three more temporary ones.

Fighting in the vanguard were those three newly formed light-cavalry corps. Those three corps comprised the nomads who had come of age. They were sent to charge into their deaths or face the consequences of being executed on the spot. Just like that, those three newly formed corps attacked the Aueran irregulars on both flanks relentlessly and broke their formation. The swarm of countless riders began their frenzied slaughter among the ranks of the irregular corps and soon, their formation was completely dispersed.

After that, the Canasian forces began to close in on Bluefeather from both sides. Bluefeather was faced with enemies on all four fronts and fought the bloody battle till the last officer that offered up resistance perished in the evening. Apart from the logistics and infirmary units of the corps, the rest of Bluefeather was completely slaughtered on the Great Plains. Lieutenant-General Edbak had near 50 thousand men killed and more than six thousand captured.

Bluefeather, when fully staffed, numbered around 60 thousand men. The two irregular corps also numbered up to 110 thousand. In the battle that eventually came to be known as the Triumph in Canas, Aueras suffered up to 150 thousand casualties. While the two irregular corps weren't completely exterminated, the soldiers that managed to survive weren't able to escape pursuit from the Canasian cavalry. In the end, less than five thousand of them managed to make it back.

For the kingdom, that was high on thoughts of victory, that defeat was a harsh strike to the head. The whole kingdom was shaken by it. When Stellin X heard about the news, he vomited blood, collapsed immediately and ended up bedridden since then. The first thing he did when he regained consciousness was send a letter to admonish Prince Hansbach harshly and reminding him to learn from the lesson so as to never repeat it again. The kingdom no longer had enough forces to suffer a few more such defeats.

"Berk's in 2nd Rangers... I wonder if he managed to escape," Dyavid said worriedly. He referred to their mutual friend, Berklin, one of the four noble minions of Claude. After the occupation of Wilf Stronghold, the first prince decided to have three more ranger tribes formed and Berklin was transferred to the 2nd. They were deployed on the Great Plains as well and there was no news on him yet.

"Don't worry. Berk's no idiot. He'll be fine. Don't forget the veteran Sasri. That fellow is top-notch in escaping back in our old tribe. He's been transferred to the 2nd as well and is in the same clan as Berk. With him around, Berk will be fine," Claude console.

At the end of the 10th month, signs of Canasian troops appeared in the area once more. Additionally, they dared to approach the castle in groups of three or four daringly and loudly clamoured that it was over for the Auerans and they had better surrender. Infuriated, Claude led some men out in ambush personally during the night and attacked the cavalrymen when they returned the next day. He managed to kill three to four waves of enemy mounted scouts before they wisened up and stopped approaching the castle casually.

Though they managed to score some kills, Claude and Skri knew that the appearance of scouts meant that they would soon be under siege.

"Now I know why the enemy wanted to scout this place out thoroughly during the 9th month," Claude said as he slapped his forehead in realisation, "The enemy doesn't want to reclaim this area at all. They only want assurance that we have few men posted here so that we won't affect their plans on the plains. That's why they never came even after all the preparation we made."

Skri made a bitter smile. "We didn't receive any orders to retreat, so we must hold our ground in this castle, no matter how many enemies come. We might not be able to make it back..."

Captain Kurdwak of the 4th Clan said, "We have enough supplies to last us three months. I hope the enemy will retreat on their own accord during winter at the end of the year. I doubt they'd be able to last long outside."

"Let's hope so," Skri said, "The scouts are getting more and more numerous. I believe the main force will arrive in another two to three days. Make sure to check your clan's equipment and stoke their morale. We don't want any holes in our defences."

Skri's prediction turned out to be quite accurate. On the 2nd of the 11th month, the main force showed up outside the castle.

"By the gods, there's a line of Canasian cavalry and a line of infantry... Wait, I'm not seeing things, am I? The infantry line is carrying the flag of Askilin... Wasn't Askilin exterminated by us?" Mazik mouthed off with a telescope in hand.

"What's weird about that? After Duke Askilin surrendered, the Askilinian nobles in Rimodra aren't willing to let their nation die just yet, so they got the soldiers that didn't want to surrender together and reformed the Askilinian corps to help the Alliance. It's said that Duke Rimodra who escaped to Northbay did the same and formed his own exiled corps, aiming to retake the nation. However, he only managed to form three corps and wasn't able to sustain even more. Negotiations are going on between him and the Alliance for funding support," Claude said, describing what he read from the reports. He also asked Skri to contact his associates to inquire about Berklin.

After looking around with his own telescope, Claude said, "It seems that the new Askilinian corps is on a very tight budget. They're being used by the nobles like mercenaries... I'm sure it's bleeding the nobles dry to even send one line of troops here. Myjack, help me check if those fourteen noble insignias over here are among the Askilinian troops."

Myjack received the telescope and took out a book from his backpack. He flipped it open and compared them and soon reported, "Sir, the fourteen insignias do indeed correspond to the flags in the Askilinian line. It's as you said. These nobles hired the Askilnian foot soldiers to reclaim their fiefs."

"Sir, look. That's our army-issue light-infantry cannons!" Mazik pointed into the distance.

The Canasian cavalry line was split into four tribes, each dragging along two units of Aueras-made light-infantry cannons as they set up camp in all four directions of the castle. Askilin's footmen, however, had chosen to camp out around a kilometre away.

"They got them as spoils, perhaps. Looks like they won't be attacking today. Our showtime is tomorrow, then. Let our men rest well tonight for the battle to come."

"Yes, Sir," Mazik said.

Chapter 281 - Shootout

Count Krilaus' castle stood on flat land, so its walls were higher than most, at some six metres. They were constructed of stones harvested from nearby quarries. The castle grounds were split into three baileys. The one into which the main entrance opened contained the barracks, armoury, stable, and a central yard for training. The next bailey along contained the warehouses and storehouses. The resident lord's audience hall and office were there as well, which was also where the keep stood. The third bailey was behind the keep, the furthest from the main gate. It could only be accessed through the main keep, by passing through the family quarter, and contained nothing but the family garden and a small pond.

The castle had been under constant construction for the last eighty years. Three generations of the family had been born whilst construction was still ongoing. It had only recently been completed, and the count had been planning another round of construction and expansion which he'd hope to start in several more years.

Neither the count, nor any in his family, had ever dreamt they would eventually have to besiege their own castle, and with hired hands, no less. The count had little choice, however. His entire levy had been wiped out in the village fire in that damned mountain pass. He would have no men if he didn't hire mercenaries. And he'd not had enough time to do so before the enemy started marching on his lands, so he had no choice but to abandon his castle.

He was back now, however, thanks to Duke Canas' promise of support. And he'd been struck by the fortune that his enemy only had a single tribe, and they'd split themselves between four castles as well! The easier the siege the better, as, while the duke had given the count some of his cavalry to help with any fighting, they were forbidden from being used in sieges, that, the count had to handle with his own men. This was also his last chance to save his family. If he failed this time, the duke would strip him of his title. While he could not be cast out of the peerage, a peer without land was no peer at all. He would have the title of count only nominally.

The duke hadn't agreed to the nobles' request to deploy his army wholesale, he agreed to give them each a line of light cavalry, with the caveat of them not being involved in sieges, of course.

He and his peers had immediately gathered up whatever wealth they had managed to bring with them, and hired as many swords as they could, then marched them right back up the road they'd come. It turned out their haste had been a wise choice, as their enemy had yet to receive reinforcements. The first reports they'd received also made them very happy. Their lands appeared to have been completely depopulated.

For each, and for Count Krilaus in particular, this was good news, as it meant all the elderly and sickly they'd left behind had been dealt with and would no longer burden them.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, however. The enemy had realised what was going on after the initial clashes and had pulled back to the family castle with all their men.

He had an intimate knowledge of that castle and its defences. There was no taking it with even four times the defender's numbers. He would have to either starve them out, or pummel the castle down using cannons. Neither option was ideal, but there truly was no other choice. The count's father had besieged a well-defended castle many decades earlier. His force outnumbered the enemy ten to one, but six months into the siege, and despite their best efforts, the castle still stood. They gave up about a year in, and withdrew.

That result had been obtained with superior strength and manpower. Now, however, they were far inferior to Claude's veteran, professional soldiers. Who knew how many men it would take to win?

While three Aueran corps, including the elite Bluefeather, had just been wiped out in the Triumph in Canas, the nobles were more than aware that the seven Canasian cavalry corps and the two Nasrian corps suffered heavy casualties despite their victory. They were effectively incapacitated. While Duke Canas sent his other two light-cavalry corps to the Great Plains and the border of Askilin, it was only for show. He privately gave the order to retreat the moment the enemy showed signs of counterattacking. They were not to engage the enemy at all costs.

That was also the reason the duke only sent one line of troops to aid with the reclamation. He couldn't afford to send out any more. He found that he almost traded four corps of his own for the defeat of the three Aueran corps. He didn't mind the three newly formed cannon fodder corps he lost since they were made to be expendable in the first place. But the corps of elite light-cavalry troops he lost in the final encirclement of Bluefeather pained his heart greatly.

Nasri's two corps didn't fare any better. The standing corps lost a third of their forces. The Alliance had nine corps against three on the open plains where the enemy didn't have anywhere to take cover. While they managed to exterminate the enemy, they found that they suffered far heavier casualties than the enemy in total. The battle could even be considered a joke.

The nobles that were aware of that didn't dare to recruit soldiers themselves to besiege Count Krilaus' castle. They knew that the ragtag bunch like the ones they recruited to attack Squirrel Village was no match for properly trained Aueran soldiers. While the enemy wouldn't have tricks and traps at their disposal, they did have the impregnable castle and a whole tribe of men defending it. It wasn't a war between fellow nobles and their amateur forces. Only a proper army could face off against another.

That was why they brainstormed and came to the conclusion to borrow Askilin's corps and Duke Rimodra's new forces. No matter what, they were still proper armies of the two nations. Not only would it be proper to let them lay siege on the castle, they were also far more reliable in combat.

But Duke Rimodra's asking price was high. The duke that had lost his duchy seemed almost insane and gave an astronomical price. He said that they could take all three lines of his, but he would have to be in charge of their supplies and food.

The nobles paled from that thought. They would be completely bankrupt from that. Feeding three lines was no easy endeavour. If the siege was dragged on, not only would they be unable to reclaim their fiefs, they would also have to go begging for food. Duke Rimodra obviously wanted them to carry that burden.

So, the nobles went to the one in charge of Askilin's forces, who was far more reasonable. Askilin's forces were not faring that well lately anyways; they were treated rather poorly by those higher up. While the Alliance promised to foot half of their military bill, they lost control over their own fates and were at the whims of the Alliance.

While the war had lasted nearly four whole years and the fronts of Nasri and Canas were in desperate of soldiers, Askilin's nobles were no fools and knew that the remaining corps was the only thing left they could rely on. They weren't willing to let them take the role of cannon fodder, causing them to be looked down upon by the high officials of the Alliance, who worsened their treatment over time.

It didn't take long for the nobles of Askilin and Canas to click and align their goals. The nobles of Canas required a force to reclaim their fiefs by besieging Count Krilaus' castle. The Askilin nobles, in contrast, needed allies on their side and a way to make a quick buck to sustain their army. They soon came to an agreement. Askilin would send a line of infantry to aid the Canasian nobles' reclamation of their land.

Askilin's noble officers were really confident in the capabilities of their infantry line. They had been put through the whetstone of true battle against the Aueran forces at the border of Rimodra, after all. Though they were fighting mostly defensively back then, they did manage to deal lots of casualties to the Aueran forces. With there being only one tribe of enemies defending the castle, sending a line of experienced soldiers was arguably a little overkill.

The nobles of Askilin optimistically said that they would be able to conquer the castle after suffering two tribes of casualties at most, and they were being really generous to overestimate the enemy's capabilities.

It was day two since the enemy forces arrived outside the castle. When the two lines of enemy troops arrived, Canas' line of light cavalry split into four tribes. Three of them were posted on all three sides of the castle while the last one was sent to the mountain pass. They were obviously trying to choke the troops in the castle slowly. They didn't need to even attack the location Moriad's band was defending. All they had to do was make sure reinforcements or supplies couldn't be transported to the castle.

The line of Askilinian infantry, on the other hand, went into the settlement to collect wood and fell trees in the forest nearby after they set up camp. They built shield carts and siege ladders all the way to midnight before the horn to rest was blown. Dyavid confidently proposed to be allowed to bring some men with him for a sneak attack outside the castle, but Claude shot it down after some consideration. The enemy had just arrived and there was no way they would be so careless from the get-go. Either they had lookouts during the night or they were trying to bait them into attacking.

As the enemy troops only stopped to rest that late into the night, they didn't launch an attack first thing the next morning. They only launched a probing attack during two in the afternoon with the aim of testing out the firepower of the castle defences. They sent a clan of men out. They used the settlement's buildings as cover before they charged out from the streets with the intent of pushing their shield carts to the foot of the castle. With the cover afforded by the shield carts, they wanted to attempt sniping the enemy on the walls.

While the idea was sound and appropriate, there was one mistake: they didn't take into consideration the fact that 1st Ranger Tribe was among the first units to ever use precision shooting.

"Should we destroy these shield carts with the cannons?" Skri asked.

Claude shook his head. "There's no need. The enemy only sent a clan of men and their shield carts are there to test out our firing range. Let them approach. We'll return fire with some of our finer-shooting men. Have the others hide behind the walls to help with reloading. The enemy's precision-shooting muskets can't compare to our Aubass Mark 3s and have an even shorter firing range. The moment they are close enough to our walls, they'll be target practice."

Only the front walls of the castle faced the entrance of the settlement. While a trench was dug in front of the castle, it wasn't filled with water and wasn't deep either. Only two of the other three walls had a small entrance with a metal door, but the doors were only one-metre wide and sandwiched between two protruding wall sections. So, attacking the front entrance would prove to be the most effective. All they had to do was cross the trench and destroy the large doors to enter the castle.

However, the attackers didn't bring with them wooden boards to lay over the trench, nor did they bring any siege ladders. They were obviously just trying to test out the defenders' firepower.

Claude was also doing his share of shooting. Even though the enemy had shield carts, they would occasionally expose a body part carelessly. The soldiers knew to fire at those parts, causing one enemy after another to fall in pain and killed by a follow-up shot.

There were only eighty short metres between the castle and settlement, yet the enemy left some thirty corpses there. When the shield carts stopped in front of the trench, they raised their muskets to launch a counterattack. An epic shootout took place and the walls were filled with white smoke that made aiming even harder.

Some six metres away from Claude, a soldier with half his body exposed was shot through the head and collapsed on the ground like a ragdoll.

Claude roared, "Watch your cover, don't expose your body! Switch places after every shot! Don't stay in one place the whole time!"

There were too many new recruits. Even those who could shoot well still paled when it came to battlefield experience. They didn't know how to effectively protect themselves and often forgot about their safety. That soldier just now wanted to get a clearer view and exposed himself, only to have his head splattered all across the ground.

Claude noticed where the enemy was hiding: between the wheels of the shield cart. The soldier put down the gun on the ground and reloaded. While slow, he hid himself well and was hard to spot from the walls.

Myjack handed him a loaded gun and Claude went to another battlement before he started aiming. While the enemy could hide himself by squatting down to reload, he had to straighten his body before aiming. As expected, the enemy rested his back on the shield cart's wheel when he was done reloading and searched for a target on the walls in a kneeling position.

Claude pulled the trigger, causing the slow match to press into the flash pan with a fizzle. The stock of the gun shook as a puff of white smoke excited the gun barrel. Blood spurted out of the left eye of the foe as he soundlessly collapsed and slipped off the wheel onto the ground.

Chapter 282 - Grassland Goldeagle

The enemy escaped after leaving some sixty corpses behind. They managed to cause the defenders eleven casualties, three among whom were dead. That was the end of the probing attack. What Claude and the others found weird was how the enemy didn't launch a second wave of attacks.

Claude looked at the enemy camp in the distance and noticed some dust in the air. Soldiers were hauling one felled tree after another, seemingly constructing some kind of siege weapon.

Skri looked at the messy shield carts outside the castle and asked, "Do we leave the carts there like that?"

Dyavid responded, "Sir, I had two soldiers go to the moat from the side entrance to sprinkle them with some oil. We can light them for illumination to prevent a sneak attack."

It was a rather good idea. The night was an opportunity to be exploited. The cover of darkness could hide the attackers. Sneaking up and attacking the enemy was a common siege tactic in this age. However, 1st Ranger Tribe was defending a castle with six-metre-tall walls, not flat strongholds out in the wilderness. The real problem the enemy was faced with was how to scale the walls.

Lighting the shield carts at night would prevent the enemy from sneaking to the foot of the walls to use gunpowder to blow a hole in them. However, apart from the iron double doors and the smaller portcullis two metres away with bars as thick as an infant's arm, there was another iron gate beyond the main doors in the gatehouse. Even if the enemy managed to blast through the doors, they would be inside the gatehouse and be exposed to the defenders' attacks.

The enemy wouldn't be trying to break through the main doors, since Count Krilaus was in the enemy camp. There was no way he would advise the enemy to attack the doors. Even though they seemed weak, it was actually a trap. Breaking through them only meant exposing themselves to attack.

"Well done," Skri praised with a nod, before he turned to the corpses laid on the ground. "Why did they stop attacking? They didn't even come to collect the corpses."

The clansman of 2nd Clan, Captain Hamocklin, replied, "Sir, it seems that the enemy won't be continuing their attack. Their probing attack caused them such heavy casualties and didn't even get us to use our cannons. That should be enough for them to realise we won't be so easily dealt with. If I were in the attacking side, I wouldn't let my troops approach the castle before the siege equipment is constructed to prevent unnecessary casualties."

While Hamocklin didn't perform well in the ambush of the mounted scouts and lost nearly a band of men, causing Claude to think him an unadaptable log, he had joined the army for more than ten years. Climbing to the rank of captain wasn't easy, and he was familiar with siege techniques, and countermeasures against them.

Not long after, a band of enemies approached with white flags and a few supply carts to collect the corpses. They moved the corpses onto the carriages and retreated with one corpse-filled cart after another. The soldiers on the walls watched the whole thing, but fired at the feet of the enemies when they approached to retrieve the shield carts to warn them to not take them back.

Around six in the evening, the defenders lit the four shield carts near the front with fire arrows. The carts illuminated a large area and crackled from time to time. They left the other four for midnight to replace the burnt-out ones.

Claude stayed up late that night and got a blanket before lying down on the ground after he was certain the enemy didn't intend to attack. He was shaken awake some two hours later by a patrolling soldier as he instructed. He had to be up by five in the morning no matter what as that was the time when the soldiers on night duty were the most tired. It was also a favourite time slot to mount sneak attacks.

It was the 11th month and the weather got rather cold. The skies were still quite dark. Even the four burning shield carts only illuminated a radius of six metres. Claude took a deep breath of fresh air and rubbed his face awake. He came to the top of the wooden door and perked his ears to listen for any movement.

There was no sound but the wind's, the crackling carts, and the occasional teeth-grinding of the sleeping troops. The enemy wouldn't be launching a sneak attack that day, since the skies would turn bright not long after and the soldiers could easily see any movement from the walls.

The enemy still didn't show signs of attacking during the morning. Skri decided to send a message to frontline command by carrier eagle to inform them of their predicament. He wondered why they didn't send him a letter during the past two days. Perhaps something had changed.

Carrier eagles were specialties of Aueras. It was said to have a history of a few millennia. In the early days, the magi picked out countless birds to send quick messages. After lots of comparing, they decided on a kind of mountain eagle native to the east of the continent. Fast forward ten generations of breeding and they ended up with the breed known as carrier eagles that sent letters with startling accuracy. When Aueras was founded, it surprisingly obtained one such manual on how to train carrier eagles. Ever since then, the method was one of the highest classified secrets of the kingdom.

Yet, the carrier eagle that was about to set off didn't look right. It didn't puff its chest out with the fervent desire to fly and instead remained in the cage with its head down like a sick bird. It didn't appear to want to go out at all. The signallers didn't discover any abnormalities and thought that perhaps it changed due to the weather getting colder.

Skri handed the silver tube to the signaller, who tied it to the claw of the eagle in a practised manner. After feeding it a strip of fresh beef, he swung the bird into the air. Yet, it didn't fly high up in the skies like it was supposed to and instead flew far into the distance in a hurry.

The ones on the wall watched with a look of confusion. They didn't know what was wrong with that eagle. At that moment, a soldier cried out in surprise, "Look! Grassland goldeagles!"

Everyone turned to look and noticed the two other eagles circling around in the air. They seemed a few times larger than the carrier eagle. The signaller snapped out of it and cried, "Oh, no! My carrier eagle!"

One of the grassland goldeagles seemed to stop in mid-air before spreading its wings and flying down with startling speed towards the carrier eagle.

A few soldiers raised their muskets and fired, but soon stopped. They weren't in range and couldn't hit those two goldeagles at all. Now, everyone on the walls understood why the carrier eagle wasn't willing to go out of its cage. It had detected the presence of its natural predator.

The falling goldeagle rose into the air with startling speed. It didn't manage to capture its prey during the first dive. By then, the other goldeagle made a quick dive as well. The two of them began to hunt the carrier eagle.

Mazik looked at the pursuing goldeagles troubledly. "Where did they come from? Why didn't we notice them before?"

Skri sighed. "I now understand why I didn't receive any communication from Squirrel Village and frontline command. With those two goldeagles here, we can forget about contacting the rest."

The two goldeagles should've killed the carrier eagle already. But oddly, they didn't feast on the carrier eagle right away and one of them carried the dead eagle to the enemy camp along with its partner before slowly descending. Needless to say, they were the pets of some noble in the enemy camp. They used them to stop the Auerans from contacting the rest.

"Sir, what did you write in the letter?" Hamocklin asked in a hurry. Seeing that the captain was still unaware of the implications, he pointed to the direction of the enemy camp.

Skri finally realised it. He had written to inform frontline command of their situation. But now, the letter doubtlessly fell into enemy hands. Hamocklin was worried Skri had included crucial intel about the castle which the enemy could use to attack them.

"It's nothing. I only described the forces of our enemy and expressed confidence that we can hold out for at least three months. I made a request for reinforcements so that we can wipe out the enemy together." There wasn't anything that the enemy could use against them.

It shouldn't be any problem. Perhaps, the enemy would give up if they found out they could last three months. It was already the 11th month and three months later stretched into the 2nd month, the coldest time of winter. It was one thing within the castle, but it would be torture outside in the wilderness. It was doubtful that the pampered nobles would be able to fight during the cold season.

"Let's think about how we can kill those two beasts. Otherwise, we can't relay anything to the top brass," Skri said, eyeing the two goldeagles that set flight once more in the distance. Though they had more than ten other carrier eagles remaining, with those two goldeagles in the air, they wouldn't be able to send any out. The carrier eagles might even refuse to spread their wings and fall straight into the ground.

"We won't be able to deal with those beasts. They've been trained to not approach our castle. The firing range of our muskets isn't enough. There's no way for us to take them out unless we can lure them close," Hamocklin said.

"What do the nobles keep goldeagles for?" Claude asked.

Captain Kurdwak chimed in, "Well, for starters, there's prestige. They also use them for hunting. The nomadic tribes of the grasslands have a custom of rearing goldeagles to help with their hunts. Grassland goldeagles are far more useful than hunting dogs on the wide plains. They can hunt wild hares, otters and other agile and small critters. It's rumored that Duke Canas has a really large goldeagle that can even lift sheep around 100 catties in weight up into the air."

Claude snapped his fingers. "Since the nobles use them for hunting, I have a way to lure them."

"What way?" Skri asked. He held seething hate for the goldeagles that circled in the air.

"When I was young, I often hunted in the mountains and read many novels on hunting as well. One of the novels described a hunter that put a fishing net on the ground and scattered fish and shrimp all over it to hunt large birds. After the birds come down to peck at the food, the hunter would strike a large gong and the startled birds would panic and often entangle their claws into the nets. The hunter was easily able to catch a lot of these birds alive.

"I recall we took two fishing nets with us on our way back from Castle Landes, right? I wanted to use them to fish at the river cove. We could use them to trap those two birds. Naturally, I don't intend to just lay the net on the ground. Those eagles would definitely not come into the castle."

Claude pointed at the balcony of the keep. "I recall that the balcony up there is huge. We can hang the net up in the air. Don't we also have another hundred or so sheep in the garden? We can put a few lambs on the balcony below the net. If the two goldeagles don't see people around, only sheep, they wouldn't be able to suppress their instincts to hunt the lambs. At least, they'll be occupied there for a while, long enough for our troops to shoot at them."

Chapter 283 - Siege Tower

The next two days were uneventful. The enemy kept themselves busy in their camp; felling trees and bringing them to camp. Claude guessed they were building siege engines. Their next attack was likely to be the final push. The next battle definitely won't be nearly as easy.

Claude's suggestion to deal with the two grassland goldeagles in the sky had been implemented. A fine net was hung above the balcony with some tens of lambs, wild chickens, and ducks beneath them. The birds were reared in the garden behind the castle and were also used as bait for the goldeagles.

The lambs and birds were quite uneasy at first, but quickly settled down. The next day, they seemed to be in better condition and occasionally moved about on the balcony. Either it was the goldeagles' indifference or the sense of security afforded by the net, the animals on the balcony soon became more active and ate the feed scattered all over.

The two goldeagles eventually noticed the prey. They circled the whole time, though they were still too high up. They were also really cautious and didn't carelessly dive. Skri picked a tent of marksmen and had them lay in hiding around the walls to wait for an opportunity to shoot the goldeagles.

But the enemy launched their attack before the birds fell for the trap.

"What is that?"

The soldier on duty in the sentry outpost hurriedly struck a metal plate. The loud clanging signalled the urgency of the enemy's imminent arrival.

"Wargod above, they actually built three siege towers..." Hamocklin watched with his mouth agape. Not only him, everyone on the walls was dumbstruck.

Some distance away from the abandoned settlement, three colossal objects were slowly approaching the castle. Claude spied with his telescope and saw the true form of the three siege towers. They looked more like cone-shaped projections made from wood. The lower sections were the largest parts. Using the people and beasts of burden as reference, Claude estimated the base to be about six metres wide and roughly five metres in height. The middle section was some three metres wide and four metres tall, while the topmost part was only two metres in both height and width.

The base had two rows of wooden wheels. Even with the ten plus oxen pulling it, the tower still travelled excruciatingly slowly; it was probably due to how tightly the logs that made up the many sections were bound together tightly.

"Ready the cannons and aim for the frontmost tower. Fire at will!"

Skri stopped worrying about second opinions. And sprung into action.

Claude had to find a place that wasn't covered to continue his observation on the frontmost tower with his telescope. Of the 12 cannons that fired in the first volley, only around eight rounds hit. The tower stopped moving, however, it wasn't destroyed by the cannonballs. Claude could see clearly that all the round shots did was shake the tower, before some 'bark-like' pieces fell off the structure. Only a few white marks were left on the mud-covered walls.

The reason the tower stopped was the rain of cannonballs that startled the oxen and started flailing around wildly. A few soldiers working the oxen pulled the dead oxen away with the ropes they tied on beforehand to prevent them from blocking the way.

The cannons on the walls fired three volleys in total and had to stop due to the accumulated smoke which obscured their vision. They had to wait for the wind to carry the smoke away. But when the smoke subsided, those on the walls saw that only a few more white marks were made on the tower, but it otherwise looked undamaged.

It was useless. While the cannons could fire up to seven hundred metres away, the fist-sized round shots weighed less than five catties. They didn't carry enough momentum to blow away the gigantic siege castles.

"Fire at the oxen in front! Don't let them approach the walls!" Claude shouted. If they couldn't destroy the towers, all they had to do was stop them in their tracks.

The cannons fired once more. More than half of the oxen pulling the frontmost tower collapsed from the volley, leaving the rest running into all directions in fear. One ox-herding soldier was killed and another injured. The rest hurriedly got on the ground and crawled for cover.

The cannons fired two more volleys before stopping. Not a single ox was left pulling the frontmost tower. They either died or snapped the ropes binding them and escaped.

Skri was satisfied with Claude's quick-witted order. If the towers weren't able to approach the walls, they would pose them no threat. "Alright, stop firing and be on standby. Fire at the oxen if the enemy starts moving the towers aga--"

Before he finished, a thunderous boom could be heard from far away. With a high-pitched whoosh, a cannonball shot past the front wall and crashed into the rear wall of the castle, dislodging two bricks in the process.

They turned around and saw some white smoke on the second floor of the siege tower. The enemy had some cannons and men situated in the middle section of the tower and fired through gunports.

"Take cover and watch for enemy cannon fire!" Hamocklin ordered, and crouched.

The soldiers cleared the wall soon after, then hid themselves well.

The enemy began firing from the three castles, but it was just as useless. They used the same light-infantry cannons and the most their shots did was leave a dent in the walls. Each tower had two cannons, and after five or six volleys and noticing no effect, they ceased firing.

Following that, they tried to get fresh oxen to pull the siege towers once more, only for them to be blasted away by the cannons on the walls.

Gum watched enviously with his mouth wide open. "They'll definitely get to eat lots of beef for lunch..."

The enemy experimented two times that morning and failed to get oxen to pull their towers to the walls thanks to the cannon fire. After that, they pushed a few shield carts in front in an attempt for protection, but the cannons higher up on the walls were still able to harm the oxen without much effort. The battle turned into a stalemate just like that and the siege towers were stuck on the entrance street of the settlement.

Afternoon at two, the Askilinian infantry launched a large-scale attack. They mobilised a tribe of men and pushed out more than 40 newly constructed shield carts, lining up into rows about a hundred metres away from the castle. There were around sixteen shield carts lined up right in front of the trench and the area 50 metres away from the main doors were within their firing range. Some of the shield carts they pushed to the front also had roof coverings that effectively shielded them from shots from the walls above.

The moment they launched the attack, the enemies in the settlement hurried some oxen to pull on the frontmost tower. They were clearly trying to spread out the firepower from the walls as far as they possibly could. They also hid behind their shield carts to cast suppression on the walls and wipe out the cannoneers as well.

The men in charge of guarding the front gate that day was 2nd Clan. Hamocklin was really used to defensive fights like this and directed his men calmly and orderly. First, he ordered the four light-infantry cannons in the sentry towers on both sides to continue firing at the oxen within the settlement and made sure the enemies wouldn't be able to move their siege towers. Then, he got six of the eight light-infantry cannons on the walls to fire round shots at the shield carts in an attempt to blow their top covers away.

The last two cannons continued on with steady barrages of scattershot; a nightmare for the soldiers hiding behind the shield carts. They were able to take cover from shots coming from above and the front, but not from those from the sides, and suffered badly from it.

The other soldiers of 2nd Clan didn't have many opportunities to shoot. Most of them hid behind the battlements and awaited orders. It wasn't that they didn't want to shoot; the walls were so smoky that they couldn't see anything. Same went for the enemy, who were firing blindly without regard for accuracy at all. The 12 cannons of the defenders fired nonstop, maintaining the veil of smoke. Even the cannoneers had to guess the rough location of the shield carts based on memory.

After some six volleys of fire, Hamocklin ordered them to stop. First, the cannons had to be allowed to cool down, and he wanted the smoke to subside so he could get a grasp on the enemy's situation. That would also allow the idle soldiers to shower the enemy with suppression sniping.

As the four cannons in the sentry towers fired nonstop on the enemies in the settlement to prevent them from using oxen to pull the towers forward, the enemy eventually gave up on the idea and switched to using the cannons in the towers to attack the castle. The cannons in the sentry towers on the castle didn't need to counterattack either since they couldn't damage the siege towers, so they turned their barrels down to the shield carts near the foot of the walls while keeping an eye out to the settlement. If the enemy tried the oxen trick once more, they would change their target to the settlement.

All in all, the heated exchange during the afternoon was exciting, but the cannons stole all the flair. As the skies turned dark, the enemy retreated after losing more than a hundred men and more than 20 shield carts. The 2nd Clan defending the walls, on the other hand, suffered 20-odd casualties, most of them caused by the shooters hiding under their shield carts. The cannoneers were hit the worst as they often had to get out of cover to aim at their enemies.

The unluckiest cannoneer squad was one of those posted on the walls. The enemy had fired at the six cannons there with more than ten volleys over the course of one hour. Even though most of the shots missed or hit the walls, the last three volleys struck one squad squarely at the last moment on the barrel of the cannon, wounding two cannoneers in the process. That was the largest loss for 1st Ranger Tribe so far; they lost the cannon as well.

If one judged based on numbers, 1st Ranger Tribe did indeed obtain a landslide victory. The 100-odd corpses the enemy left behind were proof; they were killed in action and the injured ones had evacuated to their camp. All in all, 1st Ranger Tribe suffered one casualty for every 20 enemy casualties. However, the officers of the tribe didn't have a promising look on their faces as the skies got dark. The enemy would definitely use the shroud of night to try to move the towers forward some more.

At around 300 metres away, the six cannons on those siege towers already posed quite a substantial threat to the defenders. If they were allowed to close that distance to 80 metres, the enemy could use scattershot to obliterate the defenders on the walls.

The moment the walls were undefended, the enemy would swarm into the walls and take it over. After that, they could use their numerical superiority to swarm the rest of the defenders from the front entrance or take the other walls and trap 1st Ranger Tribe inside the keep.

The largest threat the tribe faced was the three siege towers. The light-infantry cannons couldn't damage them in the slightest and the enemy's cannons were installed in the middle section of the towers, which was at the same height as the cannons on the walls, nullifying the advantage a higher firing position granted. And with the shielding of the siege tower walls, the cannons couldn't be destroyed. The exposed Aueran cannoneers, on the other hand, were at great risk. The destroyed cannon was proof of that.

They had a discussion and some suggested for log houses to be built on the walls to shield the cannoneers. The problem with that, however, was that logs couldn't be sourced from within the castles. So, some of them wanted to head out during the night to collect the destroyed shield carts to use as materials, but Skri was worried the enemy would discover them and launch a night attack. The decision rested on Claude's shoulders.

Claude sighed. "We'll send some men out from the side doors and have them travel along the trench to gather the shield carts right in front of the front wall. Then, we'll pull them up the walls with ropes. That way, we won't have to open the front entrance. Other than that, I'll lead another team to infiltrate the settlement and see whether we have an opportunity to burn the three siege towers down."

Chapter 284 - Clash on the Walls

Skri's expression didn't look good. Not only did Claude's sneak attack on the three siege towers during the night failed, the enemy completely dominated nighttime. They launched sneak attack teams and sent out a tent of men to attempt to sneak over to attack the castle. The two sides engaged each other outside the castle for most of the night and 1st Ranger Tribe incurred more than 30 casualties as a result.

The only good news was they managed to collect quite a lot of wood from the destroyed shield carts and also managed to get a few complete ones up the walls. They had enough to build a wooden shielding on the walls. Fortunately, they heeded Claude's suggestion last night and didn't open the main gates to collect the wood and used rope to get them up instead. Otherwise, the enemy clan sneakily approaching would've entered the castle and it would've ended up far worse.

The bad news was the three siege towers were approaching the castle closer and closer. Though they were stuck at the rear of the settlement during the day, they noticed that the towers were now at the front entrance of the settlement facing the castle. If they were allowed to come some thirty meters closer, the cannons on the towers would be able to use scattershot on the soldiers on the walls. Skri decided that they had to get the wooden shielding up the next day so that the troops would have cover to hide behind.

It was truly surprising that Askilin would still be able to muster a line of elite infantry troops despite the extermination of their duchy. Though they lost some three hundred men throughout the clashes over the past few days, which numbered up to a whole clan, that was only one-sixteenth of their total forces, far from what it would take to bring them down. With the three siege towers inching ever so close to the castle, the soldiers of 1st Ranger Tribe had long and harsh days to look forward to.

Last night, Claude took Dyavid's band of 1st Clan to attack the three siege towers. Had Claude not detected breathing in the village during the night and called for an urgent retreat, they might've fallen straight into a trap. Even so, Dyavid's band was still pestered by the enemy troops and they only found that they lost a tent of men after returning to the trench.

Fortunately, Claude and the rest did turn back and ran into the enemy clan that was sneaking towards the castle. They fired shots to alert their allies on the walls. That was when 4th Clan, that was collecting wood at the foot of the walls, realised that they were almost obliterated by the enemy. So, they quickly got down to the ground and fired. The soldiers on the walls threw some lit torches down for illumination while firing at the enemies. The shootout lasted through the night and the enemy left after leaving behind some fifty corpses.

Claude, Myjack and Dyavid were all fine. Gum, on the other hand, had his left arm grazed by a bullet, losing a chunk of flesh with it. He could already be considered quite lucky. Had the bullet crushed his bone or embedded itself in his joint, Gum might stand to lose a whole arm. That kind of injury would definitely get an amputation recommendation from the healers in the infirmary and it wasn't something that could simply be healed with a cast and a concoction.

When they took a good look in the morning, they came to understand how the enemies moved the three siege towers to the head of the settlement. They had given up on using oxen and instead fastened some wooden support struts to the sides and back of the three towers and had the soldiers slowly pull them forward while others pushed from behind. Little by little, they managed to get the towers to the front of the settlement. With the shield carts protecting the soldiers pushing from the side and the towers themselves shielding those behind them, there was no need to fear being shot at by the cannons.

It might've been because last night's activities worn them out too much, both sides were quite idle during the morning. The enemy only reappeared in the settlement during four in the afternoon. They pushed more than twenty shield carts to the front of the towers and formed a line of defences. The officers then ordered for the men to prepare to push the frontmost tower forward.

The 2nd Clan soldiers defending the walls began their bombardment with all eleven of their cannons. Five of them targeted the shield carts while the other six focused their attacks on the siege tower at the front. The enemy soldiers, in contrast, hid behind whatever buildings they could find while the cannons on the three towers themselves launched their counterattack.

After around 20 minutes, the bombardment ceased. Some eight shield carts had been destroyed, but the three siege towers were unharmed as usual. The spots the cannons struck left only slightly larger white marks than before. The enemy destroyed two wooden shieldings for the cannoneers without causing the defenders much harm.

The enemy was moving the destroyed shield carts away and replacing them with new ones. At the distance of some eighty meters away, they were within the effective firing range of the Aubass Mark 3. The troops of 2nd Clan began to snipe away at the soldiers clearing out the shield carts and soon, a large number of enemy troops got behind cover of their carts and began firing towards the walls.

While the enemy's muskets couldn't fire as far as the Aubass Mark 3, their muskets were still more than sufficient to cover that kind of range. Countless bullets rained down on the wooden shielding. A few soldiers even got wounded by stray shots. However, the shootout soon ended when the broken shield carts were replaced.

Claude and Skri were checking on the wooden shielding destroyed by enemy cannon fire. The construction of the shielding was actually rather simple. They erected a row of logs in front and supported it with two rear beams and constructed two triangular frames to support it from the sides. The ones destroyed by the enemy cannons had a few logs from the center pierced through as a result of the hollow rear, which couldn't endure the momentum of the cannonballs. The cannonballs snapped the logs and left holes in their wake.

The enemy siege towers were still located at the settlement entrance. If they were allowed to close the distance even more, the heavy bombardment from their cannons would no doubt wipe out what little shielding they had for their own cannoneers, exposing them to scattershot. They would no longer be able to mount an effective resistance and the enemy could take the walls and open the front doors to let the rest of them in.

"I think I have a way to prevent the shielding from being destroyed," Claude said. His suggestion was simple: filling the emptied linen sacks used to store food and stacking them behind the logs. That way, even if the logs were destroyed, the sandbags behind could still provide an adequate defence.

"Since this works, let's go make some immediately. Captain Kurdwak, we'll leave this to 4th Clan." Skri took the suggestion without hesitation. But even though they already had some semblance of defence for the walls, Skri's expression was still filled with worry.

"We have to find a way to get rid of those three siege towers for good." Claude knew what he was worried about. 1st Ranger Tribe should've been easily able to keep the castle defended, yet they didn't expect they would be facing elite soldiers that managed to build those three impressive structures. With their weaker numbers and firepower, Skri was worried they wouldn't be able to hold on.

"How?" Skri said with a bitter smile, "Our enemies are no fools. They're well aware that the key to conquering this castle is their three siege towers and definitely have them heavily defended. They might even set traps for us in anticipation of our troops trying to sabotage their towers like last night. I'm sure they would be more than happy if we choose of our own accord to attack the towers, since they can use them to crush us like rats falling for a cheese trap.

"They already understand the extent of forces we have. They have a whole line of troops. Coupled with the other three tribes they sent to watch the other three sides of the castle, they outnumber us absolutely. And we're trapped in the castle and those two goldeagles in the sky are sealing off our communication. The only option we have now is to hold on and wait for the first snow during the 12th month. Maybe the enemy will retreat because of the cold."

Pointing at the three siege towers, Skri's expression worsened. "I'm certain that the enemy commanding officer is someone with rich battle experience. He understands the key to winning this battle. That was why he only launched two attacks over the past week, losing only some 400 men. That little number isn't even significant for them. They managed to find out about our defences and numbers in exchange.

"He knows well what we are looking forward to, yet, he isn't in a rush in with wave after wave of attacks against us. Instead, he patiently spent three days to construct those siege towers. That means he's confident that he'll be able to take the castle in one go. No matter what happens, our defences will be nullified if the towers come close enough.

"I suspect the enemy is trying to see how long we can last. The three siege towers alone can suppress all our defences on the walls. If they let their troops attack at the same time, we would no longer be able to fight without losing men. Even if the enemy suffers a tribe of casualties, it'd still be worth it if they manage to take the front walls."

If the enemy suffered a tribe's casualties to take over the front walls, 1st Ranger Tribe would no doubt fare far worse. They would no longer have enough men to defend the other parts of the castle from the enemies that had taken the front wall. The moment the enemy set foot in the castle would spell their end.

Claude stared at the three siege towers without saying a word.

As Skri had said, the enemy would be moving their towers into position during the night. In the coming four days, apart from applying suppression fire to the walls, the enemy launched a large-scale attack and didn't stop even when it was late into the night. A few times, some enemy troops managed to get on the walls and had to be chased down in close combat, causing the tribe even more casualties.

"How many casualties did the enemy get today?" Skri was injured and wore an armband cast. He was currently leading 3rd Clan in place of its clansman, Captain Heickham, who had been injured when they were still ambushing the mounted scouts and was moved to the rear long ago.

"An estimated seven or eight hundred, perhaps," Kurdwak replied.

The tribe only had one clan of people who could still fight. The struggle over the past four days caused all the clans apart from the 1st to suffer great casualties. 2nd Clan was almost completely obliterated and Hamocklin was sent to the infirmary at the castle's rear sector for his injuries. 3rd and 4th fared slightly better and had a total of two and a half bands of men.

"How many cannons are still operational?"

"Seven," Claude replied without needing to check. They lost quite a number of cannons lately. The cannoneers of the enemy were experienced and great shooters. When they got a hold of the positions of the cannons, they focused all six cannons' attacks on the cannons on the walls. Three cannons were destroyed before the Auerans were able to react.

"We lost one to an enemy that managed to get on the walls yesterday. Apart from the four cannons we have in the two sentry towers, there are only three left on the walls themselves. Our cannoneers have learned from the experience and now switch positions after every shot they make. Last night, some enemies tried to scale the walls in the dark, but those three cannons rendered great merit by dealing severe casualties on them with scattershot. The enemy returned in futility and left some eighty corpses behind," Claude explained.

The enemy used the opportunity when the smoke in the air obscured the defenders' view to climb the walls with siege ladders. With their greater numbers, the enemy could launch attacks clans at a time. A line of troops included more than 16 clans, and each clan only had to work for one day before switching out with another. 1st Ranger Tribe, on the other hand, couldn't afford to switch out like the enemy. That was why they allowed a few enemies to scale the walls.

"Thankfully, you came up with the idea to use the sandbags to strengthen the shielding. Otherwise, we'd be completely unable to defend ourselves. What I'm curious about is why the enemy had stopped their attacks for the day." Skri gazed at the siege towers with a troubled look.

"I think they suffered a little too many casualties. They lost some eight hundred men over the past four days. Including their previous casualties, they've lost more than a thousand, probably a quarter of all their forces. Yet, we still managed to hold onto the walls. They must be trying to console their troops by letting them rest for a bit. I doubt they'd be willing to attack nonstop like this either," he guessed.

Chapter 285 - Siege Towers Destroyed

"Lighten up a little. Don't keep thinking about firing as many shots as you can. I'd rather you slow down and aim. I don't want any accidents. Mazik, watch them while I look at the sentry towers."

Claude watched the red-hot cannonballs being loaded.

The air cracked and green smoke barrelled from the cannon. The cannonball flared out of the muzzle and smashed into the central level of the middle siege tower some 80 metres away. With his telescope, he could see the tower shake.

"There we go! Make every shot count!" Claude shouted above the deafening ringing in his ears.

The enemy ceased their attack for two days, then started anew. The clans on duty were 1st and 4th. The walls' wooden shielding had been more or less blasted away completely by the bombardment in the prior days, but the sandbags still held. Cannon fire couldn't break through the bags, and scattershot just bounced off.

The besiegers didn't have any fighting spirit left, having to face off against the defender's constant sniping. They withdrew soon after another charge, leaving yet another thirty dead behind. The bombardment just wouldn't cease, however. A few soldiers were hurt by stray pellets and were being hurried to the infirmary. Dyavid came to Claude's side, but just as he was about to speak, the sandbag shook and coughed sand over them.

"Ptooey!"

After clearing his mouth, Dyavid looked at the three siege towers through the seams between the sandbags. "Sir, if the three towers are gone, there's no way the enemy can approach the walls."

Claude brushed the dirt off his head. "I know, but I'm still only experimenting. Be more patient. How are our casualties?"

"Our 1st Clan suffered four casualties, and 4th Clan suffered nine, two among whom are dead. They were all hurt by scattershot," Dyavid said with a shake of his head, "I told them to get into cover properly and shoot through the seams between the sandbags, but those idiots actually forgot and complained that shooting through the seams is too troublesome. They much prefer resting their muskets on a stand. It's no wonder they couldn't evade the scattershot."

"But the enemy attack doesn't seem particularly pressing today. They left after thirty minutes..."

"That's how I feel too," Dyavid said with a laugh, "They tried to scale our walls like madmen only to fail and suffer great casualties yesterday. It looks like they've developed some restraint. They don't even charge fervently anymore. Most of them prefer to hide behind their shield carts. It's all thanks to you, Sir. Your bombardments are working far better than that idiot Hamocklin's. All he did was destroy enemy shield carts. What's the point? They can make new ones anyway."

After the three siege towers were moved into position, the enemy pushed even more shield carts from the back and filled the area with them to use them as cover during their attack. Initially, the 2nd and 3rd clans were taking over wall-defence duty with Hamocklin in command. He ordered the seven cannons on the walls to fire on those shield carts, but that only served to expose the cannons' positions and allowed the enemy to destroy three of them. The smoke as a result of all the cannon fire also allowed the enemy soldiers an opportunity to scale the walls. The soldiers of the tribe had to fight in a melee to drive them away and suffer lots of casualties.

Fortunately, the enemy didn't gain a strong foothold during that attack even though they scaled the walls and destroyed another cannon in the meantime. They were still driven off by the frenzied resistance of the two clans. They then took two days of rest to recuperate from the wounds and only resumed their attack yesterday.

What the enemy didn't expect was their opponents had also changed. The defenders that day were the 1st and 4th clans. Claude didn't have the three cannons on the walls fire at the new shield carts at all, nor did he let the four cannons in the two sentry towers do the same. He ordered the cannons in the towers to instead fire cannonballs heated to red-hot levels at the centre sections of those three siege castles. The enemy gunports were on those sections and Claude believed that one of those cannonballs would enter the gunports if he fired enough.

The three cannons on the walls were loaded with scattershot and their targets weren't the enemies hiding behind the shield carts on the ground, but rather the ones trying to get on the walls with the siege ladders. The cannons would only fire the moment the enemies tried climbing up those ladders, and only one cannon was allowed to fire at a time. They were forbidden from firing at the same time. The other soldiers on the walls were also under the same restriction. Only the ten-odd better and more experienced shooters were allowed to fire at will. The rest had to hide behind the sandbags and await orders and were only ordered to shoot when the enemy launched a large-scale attack.

That kind of defence made the enemy wonder what was going on, so they intensified their attack even further. The bombardment of the three siege towers, as well as the soldiers behind their shield carts, covered the walls with a rain of shrapnel and rounds and smoke soon filled the air.

But the counterfire from the walls remained pitifully little. Had it not been from the occasional gunshot and small puff of smoke, the walls would appear completely undefended. Yet, any time the enemy tried to gather together and scale the walls in a swarm, the cannons would fire and cause the soldiers great casualties.

The enemy mounted a frenzied attack yesterday and when they turned back to check, they found that the seemingly weakened and powerless defenders cause even more casualties to their men than they did when they were resisting forcefully. The first attack lasted four days and the casualties numbered below 200. But yesterday afternoon, they suffered over 400 casualties. Most importantly, not a single man managed to get on the walls despite the number of casualties. The reason for that was the occasional blasts of scattershot that would be unleashed the moment the soldiers climbed high up enough on their siege ladders, which covered the whole area of the walls and dealt humongous damage and carnage.

Perhaps they had learned their lesson since then and not a single enemy soldier now dared to approach the ladders. Initially, a few low-ranked officers led the charge and hauled the siege ladder with ten plus other soldiers. But before they could lay the ladder on the walls, one cannon fired and everyone turned into blood paste. Not a single one dared to approach the castle with siege ladders since then.

The rest of the battle during the afternoon was plain; both sides shot at each other from a distance and the casualties were low overall. The soldiers on the walls hid behind their sandbags while the attackers on the ground hid behind their shield carts, trading the occasional shot. The three cannons on the walls didn't fire if no enemy approached, and the four cannons in both sentry towers shot the gunport of the rightmost siege tower every ten minutes with red-hot cannonballs, while those in the siege tower returned fire at the sentry towers, spilling much dust but less blood.

It seemed that the day would continue at this pace. Claude and Kurdwak stood behind the walls as they watched the last of the enemy scurry into the settlement. Just as he was about to speak, he heard a large explosion on the battlefield. They turned to look and saw sparks shooting out of the rightmost siege tower of the enemy as the top section collapsed while the middle section began to burn.

"We hit it! Sir, we hit the gunport!" Mazik clamoured excitedly as he exited the sentry tower and almost tripped.

Claude had guessed that given the size of the gunport, there probably wasn't much room after the two cannons and cannoneers fit in. So, the gunpowder was probably stashed simply on the flooring and there was the solution. The heated cannonball fell through the gunport and lit the gunpowder to cause an explosion. Had Claude not insisted on the cannonballs being heated up beforehand, the cannonballs wouldn't do much even if they shot into the gunport.

Destroying one of the siege towers was almost like an adrenaline shot for the four cannoneers. They no longer complained about Claude's order to heat up the cannonballs. It was a rather troublesome affair and they had to take precautions against fires just in case. The slow heating also meant a low rate of fire. Not only did they have to wait for the cannonball to glow red, they also needed to stuff a small wooden plank into the barrel beforehand to prevent the charge from detonating before the ball was properly loaded and aimed.

Even Skri, who seemed so crestfallen the moment before, rushed up the walls excitedly and admired the sight of the tower burning down. "Well done, people! One bottle of gran wine for each of you tonight! You deserve it!"

Skri was only referring to the cannoneers. As for the rest of the soldiers, they couldn't have a whole bottle to themselves. There weren't that many bottles remaining in their stores. But they could still get a large mug of blackwheat ale each at least.

The cannoneers cheered but still resumed their routine of heating the cannonball, aiming the cannon, firing and cleaning the barrel. Then, they reloaded the gunpowder and stuck the wooden planks back in.

"Which siege tower should we target next?" Skri was at the top of the world. His biggest worry, the three siege towers that managed to nullify the advantage of height the defenders had and forced them to use sandbags as defence, actually stood a chance of being destroyed. There were only two more to go and even those wouldn't have much time left.

"Let's go for the middle one," Claude said.

The enemy still hadn't understood why the siege tower exploded. Not a single soldier or cannoneer inside made it out and none of them were aware the cannonballs fired were red-hot because they didn't stay beneath the tower in fear of being hit by a falling cannonball. Even if some passed by the rounds on the ground, they would've long cooled down. The enemy thought that the soldiers inside accidentally set off their own gunpowder charges to cause the explosion.

But they finally had an inkling of what truly happened when all the cannons from the sentry towers fired at the central siege tower. Though the tower was eighty metres apart from the sentry towers on the walls, they could hear the cheers that came from there; either that, or one of the enemies had tried to touch the fallen cannonballs and felt how hot they were.

Nobody could describe what happened next as a coincidence. The central tower shuddered once more after three more shots, then people started peeling out of it through every hole available to them, even a couple Claude had yet to discover. Smoke and fire followed hot on their heels.

A cheer rose up from the defenders yet again. The four cannons didn't wait for Claude's order this time. They immediately turned their muzzles on the final tower. Evening was beginning to roll in, but the two massive torches lit up the final tower like two flares in the night.

Skri was over the moon.

"This should be rewarded! All the cannoneers will be given a second-class merit!" he bellowed at the tip of his lungs.

"Sir, I think it'd be better to just give them another bottle of gran wine. They had to shoot the whole day to take out the first tower, you know. They got a bottle for that. It took them less than thirty minutes to take down the other one."

He didn't really mean it seriously. Luck played a huge part when aiming for such a small target from such a distance. The skill of the cannoneers wasn't a huge factor. Cannons couldn't aim as precisely as sighted muskets could yet and the shots were mostly approximations. It just so happened that another cannonball hit its target after a short time.

The leftmost siege tower had ceased bombardment as soldiers poured outward from it, some carrying kegs of gunpowder.

Claude ordered the three cannons on the walls to fire scattershot immediately near the base of the siege tower, leaving no room for any to escape. It was a shame that while some were killed, most managed to escape using the shield carts all around as cover. They even managed to evacuate with the two remaining light-infantry cannons in the last tower.

Mazik poked his head out of the sentry tower and asked Claude whether they ought to continue bombarding the last siege tower.

Claude ordered for the bombardment with the red-hot cannonballs to resume. Even though the siege towers had a coating of heat-resistant mud, their internals were still bare log. As long as they could set it alight, they would no longer have to worry about the tower any longer.

Chapter 286 - Escape Route

After the destruction of the three siege towers, the Askilinian infantry corps no longer dared to launch fierce attacks. They were only forced to launch two during the month's end, perhaps under duress from the nobles of Canas. However, they were beaten badly before they even got to touch the walls and retreated after losing near four hundred of their men.

Ever since then, the enemy did naught but occupy the settlement and look at the castle from afar until the first snow came. Unlike the tribe's predictions, they didn't withdraw and instead fell more wood to fortify their base while shipping lots of supplies over. It appeared they were getting ready to spend winter there.

Claude entered Skri's office and saw First Lieutenant Mist from logistics just about to leave with a thick stack of documents. When he was gone, Skri sighed and directly told Claude that their supplies would only last them two and a half months. They had sufficient ammunition, but not enough food to go around. Two and a half months was already a rather generous estimate.

It was only the start of the 12th month and they would last till the middle of the 2nd month at that rate. The rainy season would come during the 3rd month. In other words, 1st Ranger Tribe had to be supplied once more or risk starving to death in the castle. They thought the enemy would leave during winter, but while they didn't attack, they chose to sit and wait, most likely due to the two goldeagles intercepting their letter and getting to know they had only three months of supplies left back then.

Skri knew that the leak came from the letter, but there was naught he could do about it. He saw from the walls with his telescope the complete facilities the enemy built at their camp. They dug trenches outside the wooden fence of the camp and even had lookout towers around. The lookout towers within the settlement itself were also equipped to spy on the castle to prevent the 1st Ranger Tribe from mounting a surprise attack.

"Our enemy has a most cunning commander," Skri said with frustration, "He's really hard to deal with. Though their only hope of attacking us are the towers, they don't have any holes in their defences, either."

Claude nodded in agreement. The defences did look complete to him and didn't seem that it could be picked apart easily. The lookout towers in the settlement, for instance, complemented each other. The shield carts they put all over the abandoned settlement turned it into a huge maze. If the Auerans wanted to attack, they might be exterminated by the enemy inside the settlement easily.

"You're right, Sir. But it's not surprising, if you consider their background. They've been resisting our kingdom's attack for one and a half years back in Rimodra, after all. That's why they're familiar with our tactics. Attacking them is the last thing we want to do. Given our numbers, we can't even send out men from the castle for an attack."

The castle only had two and a half clans. 2nd Clan was completely incapacitated. The injured filled the rear sector of the castle. The tribe was already doing more than it should've been capable of by defending the castle and they had no intention of attacking the enemy at all. Additionally, the snow only made it even harder to mount a sneak attack. They might not even be able to find their way back.

"Our largest problem now is still lack of food, and we're unable to contact the top. I heard some gunshots from the direction of the mountain pass and I'm worried whether the enemy managed to conquer it. Perhaps they intend to trap us here until we starve. I sent a few veterans out to scout, but they haven't returned yet." Skri was under lots of stress. As the tribesman, he had to maintain a confident air in front of the other soldiers so that their morale wouldn't suffer. He could only consult Claude for his real troubles.

Claude didn't have any easy way to deal with the matter either. His idea to use the lambs and smaller birds as bait for the two goldeagles didn't work out well. Perhaps, they would've fallen for the bait, had the gunshots from the enemy's attack on the castle not startled them and caused them to fly further. Even now, the tribe was unable to contact the rear or the top brass.

"Let's kill those workhorses to save food so we can feed the lambs. That might buy us a little more time." That was the best Claude had. There were still about a hundred workhorses in the castle, with which the tribe transported supplies.

Skri nodded, but shook his head again.

"I already ran some estimates with First Lieutenant Mist and we'd only be able to last another half month if we kill all the workhorses. If we're unable to get any more food before the rainy season, we'll have to give up on this castle and retreat to Squirrel Village before the 3rd month."

The door was knocked on and Skri's aide entered to report that the scouts had returned. They brought back one good news and one bad news. The former was Second Lieutenant Moriad and his band still held the mountain pass. The enemy tried numerous times to attack it only to be driven back after suffering around 200 casualties. The pass was narrow and the attackers weren't able to fight to their full potential, so they were forced to retreat after that.

The bad news was the enemy set up a defence line somewhere near the mountain pass and surrounded it. There was an estimate of two clans of men there. The veterans said they could see their tribe's flag still being flown from the distance, but weren't able to get close to contact Second Lieutenant Moriad. They had no choice but to return to make their report.

That news only depressed Skri further. It was indeed good that the enemy didn't manage to take the mountain pass, but the pass was just as useless if the route there was sealed off. Even if the tribe chose to abandon the castle, they'd have to break through the enemy defence line to be able to return to the rear. If they were attacked by enemies from behind during that time, they'd be eliminated completely all the same. Only a handful would be able to survive.

Claude wasn't too surprised, since he would do the same if he was in the enemy's position. He didn't worry that there wouldn't be an escape route, however, if Skri ever decided to abandon the castle. The mountains were far and wide and there definitely would be another way to enter. Crossing the Pikleit Mountains was no big deal for the 1st Ranger Tribe, given their experience surveying the terrain in the first place. Skri had been transferred later and hadn't experienced the survey they conducted during winter, so his worry wasn't unexpected.

The snow soon fell nonstop for a few days and nights. There was no worry that the enemy would attack in that kind of weather. The snow had already formed into a thick later about a foot long and it looked really soft; one's feet would sink through it with the slightest touch, all the way to the knee. The sky could hardly be called bright during the day and one could see at most 30 metres away clearly. At night, it was pitch black. Even with a bonfire, they wouldn't be able to see further than four metres.

If the enemy did attack, they might lose their way the moment they left camp before arriving at the foot of the castle and eventually freeze to death in the white wasteland. That was why the attackers and defenders both wisely chose to hole up in their respective camps.

It suddenly dawned on Claude that he had joined the military for four years already. This was the fourth new year's eve he experienced in the force. Fortunately, it was better this time around, at least much better than the one he spent last year in Pikleit Mountains. Though they were surrounded by enemies on all fronts and lacked supplies, Skri at least got the logistics unit to cook up a more sumptuous feast than usual for the troops to celebrate. For that, they slaughtered all the lambs and poultry they were keeping and each officer on Claude's rank was given the last bottles of fruit wine they had left.

The coming of the 1st month brought with it good weather. Though there was still snow, it didn't last a few days like before. While the snow-covered land was still hard to traverse, it was at least somewhat solid; one wouldn't sink halfway in. The enemy scouts also began to take action. They mainly surveyed around the castle to check whether there was anything off with the defenders.

Claude allowed Dyavid to lead his band for an attack. They camped outside of the castle in waiting for the enemy scouts. From time to time, gunshots reverberated through the snow-covered land. The mountless scouts who were armed with worse muskets suffered great casualties and had no choice but to loosen their scope of search -- giving Claude an opportunity to exploit.

During one night when snow fell rather heavily, Claude took a tent of elite veterans and left from one of the castle's side doors before disappearing into the winter wonderland. The snow was perfect in covering up the footsteps they left behind. Enemy scouts would have no idea of their presence.

The chilling winds clawed at their faces and soon, a thin layer of ice formed on their shawls, before being melted by the breath coming out of their noses before dripping onto their beastskin robes and refreezing into dew-like icelets.

Claude was quite numb to the coldness; he had experienced it last winter in Pikleit Mountains and gotten used to it. He tugged at the linen rope he held and the response he got made him breathe a sigh of relief. All fifteen of them were there. None of them separated from the group.

That route was set by Claude. They were about to travel diagonally to another part of the Viridian Mountains to find a way into the mountains so that 1st Ranger Tribe would have an escape route after they ran out of food.

After reaching the mountains, they found shelter from the winds and snow. The veterans were quite experienced and quickly built a few igloos using the piled up snow and pitched tents within them. It was safe and helped keep warm. They didn't have to worry about the tent being collapsed by the weight of the snow or being too thin and causing those inside to freeze. They only had to make sure they had good ventilation.

After around one hour of busywork, the skies began to brighten, though the snow didn't stop falling. Claude got some sleep after he had every soldier drink a bowl of hot soup and assigned their watch schedules. They would continue surveying for a route during the afternoon.

After finishing lunch, they packed up and made their move. The snow had stopped and the skies were clear. Given there was enough sunlight, it was ideal for them to seek out a route through the mountains. The fifteen split into groups of five before heading into the mountains until they reached a dead end and turned back. Claude took Myjack, Gum and two other soldiers with him as part of the support team as he marked out the routes on the map and left markers along the way they travelled.

While Viridian Mountains' terrain wasn't as hard to traverse as Pikleit Mountains', the place wasn't any much safer. There were many traps under what seemed like flat, snowy land. It was all too easy to step on a patch and fall through the thin layer of snow in the hole and almost impossible for individual travellers to make it back up.

Claude used the time-proven method of felling trees and making a simple bridge to be placed over spots he couldn't be sure was safe. They weren't trying to build a road there; making it suitable for a temporary crossing was enough. So, they saved quite a bit of time and managed to find reach the mountain pass in some five days.

Moriad and the rest couldn't be more excited to see Claude and the rest. They didn't have to worry about supplies since they were camped at the mountain pass. As Moriad ordered his men to attend to Claude and his men, he told Claude a huge development.

"What? The war's going to end?" He thought he'd misheard.

"It's true. Captain Duriaulo from Squirrel Village told me. His family has some connections in the army, you see. His relatives leaked that information to him. He was told to endure a few more months before he can return to the royal capital. He said our kingdom has already started negotiating a ceasefire with Nasri and Canas. Even Prince Hansbach returned to the royal capital."

Claude had heard of Captain Duriaulo. He was assigned to be the tribesman of the local keeper tribe thanks to the connections he had in the army. Serving at Squirrel Village would be recorded as serving on the frontlines and he'd be able to have a brighter career in army staff in the future. Claude was inclined to believe his words.

"I have to rush to Squirrel Village for a bit and confirm this information. This relates to the survival of our whole 1st Ranger Tribe. Get me a horse now. I'll set out immediately," Claude said without hesitation.

Chapter 287 - Withdrawal

Claude entered Skri's office again ten days later and relayed the information he had.

"The corps on the front are exhausted. Nobody is willing to invade Canas. The officers had apparently discussed the matter of a ceasefire. When I was at Squirrel Village, I used Captain Duriaulo's carrier eagle and sent a report to the frontlines about our situation to request for supplies and reinforcements. Three days later, their reply came and requested us to hold on. They'll arrange for tactical support for our tribe. Here's the letter."

Claude put the letter from frontline command on the desk. Skri gave it a read and it was just as Claude said. After he saw the signature, he couldn't help but fume with anger, given what he knew about the internal situation of frontline command. "What's the point of this? Look at the signature. They're from the staff department of frontline command. That means nobody took our report seriously. The report didn't even make it into the hands of any proper departments. This reply just means they've acknowledged your letter, but we'll have to wait until they report to the top brass and await a decision on how to solve the problem.

"It's the most common delay tactic. Who knows how long it will take the top brass to hear our concerns? The staff can claim that they've reported the matter to the top and won't be criticized for not doing their duty. But the first prince isn't at frontline command now, he's back at the royal capital. Frontline command requires the first prince's permission to take our four ranger tribes under their command. Who knows which of their many folders they stuffed our report in... It's not even certain if the report will reach the eyes of the one who will be taking Prince Hansbach's place..."

Frustrated as Skri was, there wasn't much he could do about it. If 1st Ranger Tribe was posted in Squirrel Village, they could afford to wait a little longer. Eventually, their turn to be heard would come. But now, they were encircled and running out of supplies. They wouldn't last two weeks. Wasn't asking the tribe to hold on the same as asking them to kill themselves? If they stayed in the castle, Skri was certain they would've been long dead by the time frontline command got to their report.

Had they still been in battle, they might get a quick reply from frontline command. At least, they'd have clear orders to fight or withdraw. But now, it seemed that both frontline command and the rest of the troops had their minds on the ceasefire negotiation. It was almost certain for 1st Ranger Tribe to be ignored.

The reply also criticized the tribe for not getting in touch at the first moment. Even if their carrier eagles were useless before the goldeagles, they could've sent someone to barge through enemy defences to make the report. Frontline command had sent them five carrier eagles to ask about them and not a single one returned, so frontline command was under the impression their unit had been completely wiped out just like Bluefeather.

Skri could only scratch his head with a bitter smile. He finally understood why the prince didn't take too kindly to the officers of Frontline Command. Though many of them were supposed talents and hailed as geniuses, the first prince didn't like to promote them. Instead, people like Skri who dabbled in their businesses without making big deals out of them caught the first prince's eye.

That was the divide between officers sitting behind their desks talking strategy and soldiers who fought on the frontlines. It was no wonder the first prince loved to mingle among the lower-ranked officers and talk to veterans. Only then could he get a better grasp on the situation of battle. It was easy for the officer who wrote the reply to make that kind of criticism, but it was easier said than done. Being surrounded by overwhelming numbers of enemies and having to fend off intense attacks while sending out some elite soldiers to break through enemy lines was a fool's errand.

"Are they really holding the ceasefire negotiations?" Skri asked.

Claude didn't know whether it was a rhetorical question, but he still replied. "Yes, at least that's what Captain Duriaulo said. According to him, Prince Hansbach rushed back to the royal capital to advise His Majesty to refuse the peace talks and let him lead troops into Canas to avenge Bluefeather and the other two eradicated corps. But His Majesty summoned Prime Minister Duke Cryus to the palace in the middle of the night immediately. After a long discussion, the first prince returned to his quarters and refused to leave, citing illness as an excuse. That was when the kingdom started to negotiate with the ambassadors of Nasri and Canas.

"Now, it's said that the soldiers on the frontlines were made aware of the negotiations and are waiting for the announcement of the end of the war. Their fighting spirit is gone and morale is at an all-time low. Even the royal guard officers who ordered their men to scout the Great Plains were refused. The soldiers said the war is about to end anyway, so scouting around would be a waste of time. Nobody is willing to give their lives away at this point and a mutiny almost broke out."

Skri could only sigh helplessly. First came the great defeat. Though returning the humiliation to the enemy could've been used to stoke the troops' morale, the news of a ceasefire negotiation made it ever so much harder to light their fighting spirit. Not only that, the war had lasted for four whole years and many soldiers were starting to hate it. Every one of them wanted to return home to see their loved ones. The ceasefire came as good news for them.

Now, Skri finally understood why Claude only returned with Myjack and Gum and left the tent of veterans with Moriad. He was worried they would spread word of the ceasefire around and cause the troops to lose their will to fight and endure.

"In other words, we're the only one who's still fighting among all of the frontlines?" Skri asked.

Claude nodded.

"We're down to 13 days of food remaining," Skri said, "No matter how we ration it out, we won't be able to last through the rainy season in the 3rd month. The rear isn't able to supply and reinforce us in this short time either."

Skri waved the letter around and looked solemnly at Claude. "Are you certain this route is safe?"

"I can guarantee it."

Skri nodded and made his decision. "Let's hold on for another week as we make preparations to withdraw. We'll use the food left behind for the journey. We have to spread the enemy scouts out thin so they don't notice any trace of us breaking through."

Claude didn't understand how hard it was for Skri to give the order to withdraw. He only nodded as a subordinate would to a superior officer's command. "Yes, Sir."

Claude was swarmed with work. They had to bring back the hundred plus injured as well as the 200 plus jars with the ashes of the dead. Claude had no choice but to request Skri to allow Mazik's band to depart three days earlier with Myjack and Gum leading them for the temporary camp they set up in the mountains prepared to receive the injured and the remains.

Four days later, Kurdwak left during the night with what remained of 4th Clan and 2nd Clan's troops along with the logistics and infirmary staff. They took some crucial supplies with them. Skri's 3rd Clan and Claude's 1st Clan continued blasting away at the enemy forces at the castle walls. They would defend for one more day and depart during the dark.

Night passed and day came. Claude led Dyavid and his band on a probing attack on the settlement. Using Aubass Mark 3s, they aimed and fired at the enemy troops in the lookout towers and caused quite a bit of panic. The enemy believed that the whole tribe was about to mount an offensive on their base and greatly increased the number of people on night duty.

During that time, 1st Clan's troops used the side doors of the castle and secretly left the castle they had been holding for nearly eight months, leaving behind an empty building as they headed for the mountains under the cover of night.

Skri was the last one to leave the castle. He opened his notebook and wrote a large row of words in it: On the 11th day, 2nd month Year 581 of the Sacred Light Era at one in the morning, we had to withdraw from Count Krilaus' castle due to food shortage.

The enemy only noticed something amiss the next day. A few daredevils approached the castle and spent an hour to confirm 1st Ranger Tribe's withdrawal. They sent out a tent of mounted scouts to seek out trails on the snowy ground to find where the tribe had escaped to, but when they found the mountain pass, they were attacked by Dyavid's band from the rear. Only two of them managed to escape despite their injuries. By the time they returned with a clan of men, it was the evening and all that was left was an empty temporary camp.

The enemy commanding officer looked at the skies and back at the snow-covered mountain wilderness before sighing and ordering his men to retreat. He was certain the enemy already found a route through the mountains to escape. Otherwise, they wouldn't decide to completely withdraw their men.

The 2nd month was snow-melt season. But in the mountains, the snow took a little longer to melt than they did on the plains. The tribe was travelling along the route Claude and the rest surveyed and had to stop to reinforce the roads and bridges from time to time so workhorses could cross with their supplies. It took seven days and nights, but they managed to reach Moriad's camp with not a single one of the injured dying along the way.

"Give us some food first. We're already starving." The first thing Claude asked for when he saw Moriad was food. They had finished the last of their supplies yesterday and they had to cross the last stretches of the mountain path on empty stomachs.

Moriad had sent some men with food to receive them in advance, but the food was all taken by the soldiers in front. Claude and the rest at the back had to destroy the temporary passages they made and advanced much slower, losing out on the food as a result.

Though, Moriad had been prepared for just that situation. After finishing a large bowl of hot meat soup, Claude warmed his body up. Following that, he downed two bowls of meat gruel and one steak before he fell asleep on Moriad's bunk bed. He didn't even bother to wash up before catching up on some good rest.

He slept for nearly ten hours before waking back up, energised. Just as he was looking for some warm water to wipe himself down, Myjack entered to report that Skri had something to discuss with him. Skri had been waiting the whole time as Claude slept too soundly.

He got a handful of snow to wipe his face with instead of a proper wash to refresh himself.

When he reached Skri's tent, he found Captain Kurdwak there too. After the salutes and greetings, Skri said he was about to set out immediately with 2nd Clan, 3rd Clan and 4th Clan to the old tribe headquarters in the town of Rosa. He heard that the location was undefended, so it would be the perfect place to stay put through the rainy season.

Claude's 1st Clan, on the other hand, would be stationed in Squirrel Village and aid Captain Duriaulo in defending the mountain path to prevent the Canasian nobles from invading the village again. The tribe's withdrawal meant Moriad's band would have to withdraw from the mountain pass as well as that place wasn't suited for spending the rainy season at. There was no longer any need to defend the place anymore either.

Claude knew Skri was intentionally allowing Claude to be stationed in Squirrel Village. it was no secret that he had found himself a young huntress as a girlfriend there. Claude was more than happy to accept the gesture.

However, the camp they used back in the village had new occupants. He wasn't in a mood to fight them for it. The village was rather big nowadays anyway, so he simply appropriated some of the houses in the village and built even simpler houses and sheds in the village two weeks before the rainy season came. They only needed to be enough to last through the rainy season.

During the days when rain poured endlessly from the skies, Claude either stayed indoors to read the books he borrowed from Sheila's or went into the forest to meet her when the rain wasn't as heavy. He spent his days in relative luxury. When the 4th month came around, good news of Aueras, Nasri and Canas signing a ceasefire and peace treaty finally came. The war that lasted more than four years and saw the extermination of three duchies finally came to an end.

The soldiers all cheered; the keepers and the rangers of 1st Clan hugged each other in celebration as they tossed their hats into the air. Just as Claude was witnessing the happy sight, Captain Duriaulo rushed to him and told him something he couldn't believe. "Major Skri, the tribesman of 1st Ranger Tribe, was arrested and charged with malfeasance, desertion and for losing the kingdom's territory!"

Chapter 288 - Noble and Peasant Officers

The war was over? Major Skri had been arrested... Wait, something didn't sound right...

It took Claude several seconds to process Captain Duriaulo's words. When he had, he stood up abruptly.

"Why did they arrest him? Why Major Skri?"

It turned out Aueras had done very well in the negotiations. Both sides had agreed to a stale peace, meaning whatever territory was currently occupied would remain in the hands of the occupier. Aueras had thus annexed Sidins, Rimodra, and Askilin, as well as a prefecture of Nasri. Neither Nasri nor Canas could afford to let the war continue, so they agreed to cut their losses while they still had something left to keep.

Major Skri had been arrested for cowardice because he'd abandoned Krilaus Castle without permission, as the land was not occupied at the time of the peace treaty's signing, Aueras did not get to keep it.

"F*cking hell!" Claude cursed, "They make it sound like it would have been an easy job to hold on to that blasted castle! I'll accept their complaints after they hold that f*cking place for months without food, ammunition, or so much as a single bandage! We'd have been dead by the beginning of the fourth month of starvation even if the enemy didn't get us long before then!"

Duriaulo shrugged helpless and continued his report.

Major Skri had been charged on seven counts. There was desertion for retreating without orders, dereliction of duty for abandoning kingdom territory to the enemy without permission, insubordination for failing to carry out his orders to hold the castle, acting outside of the scope of his authority by choosing to withdraw in the absence of such orders, and in contravention of orders to the contrary, cowardice, and fraudulent reporting of achievements.

Claude had to fight to keep the veins in his head from exploding. Everyone who overheard their conversation had similar bulging veins on their heads. They all knew they'd be dead if their commander had not ordered the retreat.

The major had apparently already pled guilty to all the charges and taken sole responsibility for everything. If he received the full penalty his crimes were due, he'd be executed by firing squad.

That wouldn't do. No one in the unit would allow him to die so meaninglessly. Duriaulo had barely finished speaking when the crowd started roaring. A number had already charged out to gather others and organise a riot. Claude charged after them and slapped them over the head one after the other, admonishing them as he went.

He then returned and asked Duriaulo whether there was a way to clear the major of the charges. Duriaulo just stared back at him awkwardly, and in condemning silence. He answered several dead seconds later.

Unless the first prince stepped in personally, nothing could stop the firing squad. The first prince, however, was holed up in his chambers in the capital, 'sick'.

Duriaulo had his contacts, who had told him they'd done it out of jealousy. None of them had been promoted or given merits in the war, so they were not about to see some maggot prince's pet take all the glory. Unlike his peers, the first prince forbade the self-rewarding of merits for those that had the power to do so. As a result, his men had no choice but to perform just like everyone else. Now, naturally, that was unacceptable given the... 'impure' birth of the likes of Skri and Claude.

They thus nearly choked one another when the chance to rid themselves of one of the greatest pests in the kingdom as far as they were concerned. They planned to turn his retreat into a giant scandal, play up their role in 'discovering' his dereliction, cowardice, and the slew of other charges, and profit off his misfortune.

Most damning of their moves, however, was charging Skri with cowardice and dereliction of duty, as he had indeed withdrawn without orders or permission, which had cost the kingdom's ambitions greatly.

Had they somehow held on, the kingdom would have kept all the land and its subsidiaries. They had not, however, choosing instead to withdraw. It ended with Canas suffering only minute losses and being able to brag about their triumphant battle against the Auerans. That was something frontline command couldn't bear to swallow.

That was also why nobody bothered to stand up for Skri and do the right thing. Even though many knew the major was greatly favoured by the first prince, given that he was one of the talented soldiers elevated by the prince, it was precisely that fact which earned him the envy of the nobles. With the first prince shutting himself in, there wouldn't be a better opportunity for the nobles to lash out. They wouldn't have a chance to shine if they didn't quickly squash the puny peasant officer right there and then.

Skri was simply too unfortunate. No matter how well founded his reasoning for retreating was, it couldn't be denied that he had lost a lot of the kingdom's territory. Given that others had their own agendas for making a case against him, this issue gained quite a lot of traction. Even after the war, the army still had lots of internal struggles. The war had allowed many peasant officers to advance in their careers while nobles seldom had anything to show for themselves. The peace treaty's signing mean that they would have a long period of rest and that was when the fight for who would be holding the power would take place.

Claude could no longer stand Duriaulo's roundabout way of putting things, so he dragged him into his room and asked him to speak straightforwardly without having to go in circles. He self-mockingly called himself an uncultured person who didn't understand what was so different between peasant and noble officers.

As far as Claude was concerned, he really couldn't tell. The nobles who enlisted in the force were mostly dignitarians. Even though they came from noble families, they didn't have a Title to their names. Calling them nobles was only doing them lip-service since they were technically only dignitarians.

Duriaulo could only smile bitterly. He knew he wouldn't be able to get it through Claude's thick head, but he had to do so patiently anyway, knowing Claude's background. He wouldn't be patient enough to do so otherwise.

So-called noble officers didn't just refer to members of noble families. There was a great difference there. Otherwise, Claude's minions, namely, Dyavid and Moriad, could call themselves noble officers. Yet, they had to fight for their lives on the frontlines all the same.

Usually, there were three criteria one had to fulfil to be considered a noble officer. First, their families had to have a huge hold in the kingdom's military, with many of their ancestors holding influential positions and their descendants all having military backgrounds. Second, they had to join the youth military school before moving on to the Stellin War College. Third, they had to profit from the military. Most of the manufacturers of military equipment usually belonged to those noble families. While the royal family did own shares in those endeavours, they wouldn't be able to stop the nobles should they unite.

According to the captain's description, Claude couldn't help but recall the Junkers of Prussia. The noble officers had many similarities with their parallels in the other world. Duriaulo said that the noble faction occupied most of the top positions in the military. While Stellin IX and his successor, the current king, had tried to limit the expansion of their influence in the military, two-thirds of the top positions in the military were still held by the nobles.

As for peasant officers, they were elevated and formed together as a faction by Stellin IX during the reforms to act as a check on the nobles' power. Usually, talented peasant officers were either suppressed or recruited by the nobles. They seldom formed their own factions. But after the reformation, the peasant officers managed to expand their influence with the help of the royal family. Currently, most of the mid-level officers in the military were of peasant birth.

Unlike the noble faction, the peasant faction was incredibly complicated. Officers that graduated from the youth military school sponsored by the royal family like Skri made up the faction's majority. There were two such schools and they sourced their students from the descendants of noble families that fell out of favour and the relatives of other peasant officers. Many of them were also war orphans. They were the faction the royal family placed most of their trust in and were provided with the most spots for officer training courses.

The rest were peasants like Claude who joined the military for dignitarian status. They were called the field faction of the peasants as they weren't given orthodox military education, but that didn't stop them from flaunting their talents. In their long military careers, some gems in the rough would be polished from battle to battle and eventually begin to shine brightly. Those peasant officers who managed to climb to the top positions of the military were most often military geniuses. One shining example was none other than General Miselk Kor Priest, who was recently awarded a Title.

Claude finally understood that he was considered to be a peasant officer. He asked which side Duriaulo was on and why he bothered to tell him all that. While they were pleasant acquaintances, they were far from close enough for him to tell him about the more secretive aspects of military politics.

Duriaulo said he was not one of the noble officers and better fit in with the peasant officers. While he was from a noble family, his family was one of the newly entitled ones, elevated into nobility by Stellin IX. They weren't considered the same in the eyes of the old nobility and they didn't enjoy ownership of the military industries. Additionally, most of the new nobility didn't like to develop in the military, preferring to go for trade or mining and often pushing the kingdom to have free trade with other nations on the continent.

As such, while their members joined the military, most of them were relegated to keeper posts as they were relatively safer. Military merit didn't hold much significance for them and they were more interested in the natural resources the new territories of the kingdom held. They would be more aptly called merchant nobles. The reason he bothered to get on Claude's good side was due to the advice of his uncle who served in the army. Claude showed good military talent, so it would be a good friendship investment. There was also the fact of his status as the herbalism disciple of Baroness Maria.

Claude instantly understood that the praise he was given for his talent was merely lip-service. What they were truly paying attention to was his nominal herbalism teacher. Perhaps they were trying to use him to form a relationship with Maria so that she could put a kind word in for them to Stellin X for extra convenience for their businesses.

But now wasn't the time to argue with Duriaulo over the specifics. He was far more concerned with how he could help Skri. Without holding back, he asked whether there was any way to get Skri out of this scot-free.

The captain only responded with a resigned smile and said that while there were some people he knew in the ministry of the army, they weren't that influential. The whole matter stemmed from frontline command, that was mainly controlled by the noble officers. The ministry wasn't able to interfere too directly. Additionally, Skri's case was merely a red herring. They didn't really care that the kingdom's territory was lost. Instead, they had their eyes set on the three southern prefectures. It was a power play by the old nobility against the Stellin royal family.

Claude asked what it had to do with the three southern prefectures, as he couldn't figure out no matter what.

The captain kindly obliged with an explanation. As most of the military industries of Aueras was held by old nobility, the royal family intended to use this opportunity to gain their own by taking over the industrial infrastructure in the three southern prefectures of Askilin. They didn't choose to cooperate with the old nobility to make up for their lack of capital, but turned to the new nobility for help instead. Naturally, the old nobility wasn't too happy on being excluded from the delicious piece of pie and they wanted to use Skri's case to suppress the peasant officers and get back at the royal family for monopolising the three southern prefectures.

While it seemed simple on the surface, there was a complex interweb of relationships behind the scenes. Claude's head was almost going to blow up. He didn't really care whether the royal family or the old nobility controlled the three southern prefectures. The issue he had was why they involved normal soldiers in their scheme.

Duriaulo pointed at Claude and said, "The key to saving Major Skri lies with you. The first prince refuses to leave his quarters and isn't willing to take charge of the aftermath of the war. You can have your teacher, Baroness Maria, pay His Highness a visit and deliver news about the matter. Only with His Highness' personal involvement does Major Skri stand a chance of being spared."

Chapter 289 - The Brash First Prince

The question of why Prince Hansbach cooped up in his quarters was one that lingered in Claude's mind. Logically speaking, someone with important duties and hundreds of thousands of soldiers under him should still be informed about the happenings in the military, even if he didn't leave his quarters. The flow of information was something that he absolutely couldn't do without, and there was no doubt he would leave Skri's matter unattended if he was informed about it. Claude began to find this whole thing quite suspicious after Duraiulo reminded him about his connection with Maria.

Duriaulo smiled bitterly and told Claude that nobody put the first prince in house arrest, or forced him to stay cooped up. The first prince was simply far too angry with Stellin X for the peace negotiations. He wanted to fight till the bitter end, but the kingdom could not fight on. The cost to feed 1.6 million troops on the frontlines was astronomical. and the kingdom couldn't afford to keep the war going, not to mention the fact that it had been doing so for more than four years. The wealth the kingdom amassed during the past two decades of peace had been completely drained away.

The prime minister, Duke Cryus, was summoned to the palace in the middle of the night to reason with Prince Hansbach and explain to him the kingdom's situation. The war could not go on, and it would be wise to stop while they were ahead. Gaining the territory of three duchies was more than worth the cost so far. They had to quickly regrow and restore civilian life after the war, pay pensions, rebuild crucial facilities and those would all drain the kingdom's resources.

Prince Hansbach hoped that the court could endure it a little longer for him to exterminate Canas first before negotiating with Nasri, but he couldn't be sure he would be able to achieve that goal in a short time frame. He estimated he would take at least a year to take Northbay and exterminate the last duchy for good. That kind of time frame was not something the kingdom could afford and Stellin X refused the proposal.

Angered that he wouldn't be able to avenge the three exterminated corps by defeating Canas, the first prince confined himself to his quarters and refused everyone and every piece of news. Word surrounding the frontlines couldn't pass beyond the doors to his quarters and were all dealt with by his personal attendants, giving the noble officers the opportunity to make an example of Skri to suppress the peasant officers that distinguished themselves during the war.

Claude looked at the captain suspiciously. The captain merely made a forced smile. "I know you suspect me for telling you all this. In fact, we merchant nobles believe that the first prince has to come out and deal with this situation. The old nobility holds huge sway in the kingdom. Not only do they monopolise key industries, they also command the trade routes to Nubissia. Those of the new nobility like us can only benefit from the crumbs they left behind.

"The war is one of the best chances the new nobility can affect actual economic change. The three duchies are sources of new wealth. Even though the war ruined much of it, the key areas are filled with business potential if civilian life can be restored. We already struck up a deal with the royal family to leave out the old nobility from these areas to prevent them from stretching their claws here.

"Initially, the plan worked well and the first prince cooperated with us. Progress was satisfactory. But now, His Highness has almost given up on everything and refuses to leave his quarters. It's not that the merchant nobles in the royal capital didn't try to talk His Highness out of it, but we weren't even allowed inside. The servants of the first prince didn't even pay us any heed and refused all our gifts. It's obvious why the first prince is doing this, though. His Highness hates the new nobility for not supporting him to extend the war and siding with His Majesty instead."

Duriaulo stood up, circled about the room and came clean with his intentions. "In the eyes of us merchant nobles, Prince Hansbach isn't a good heir to the throne. His Highness is a great military leader and general, but far from a qualified king."

Claude's interest was piqued. "Why do you think so?"

"It's simple. The first prince's long military career instilled a straight-laced military personality into His Highness. The prince is generous and casual, something which the soldiers love. But at the same time, the first prince looks down on negotiations and compromise, often ignoring the economic and developmental needs of the kingdom. It's true that the prince would be able to bring our kingdom stability. But he forgets Stellin IX's famous saying that statecraft is an art. The first prince hates compromising with the enemy the most, both internal and external ones.

"There's one thing that's commonly said about Stellin X's children. The first prince is reliable, the second prince is capricious, the third princess is unreasonable, the fourth prince is cowardly and the fifth princess is petty. It might appear that the first prince is the most reliable one of the lot, but that's hardly the case. Reliable is one thing, but the first prince is actually the brashest of them all, almost childish, even. But that childishness isn't directed at others. It's directed at his father, Stellin X. If something doesn't go the first prince's way, he would throw a temper tantrum. Something like this instance of His Highness completely ignoring his military duties has happened before, and it was only put to an end after His Majesty yields."

By the time he finished listening, Claude had his eyes and mouth wide agape. That was totally different from the Prince Hansbach in his mind, though he supposed it wasn't surprising since he had only met the prince a handful of times. It was hard to truly understand someone based on superficial impressions.

Duriaulo shook his head and sighed. "The first prince considers everything from a soldier's perspective. His Highness believes war can solve all problems, but doesn't understand that only a strong economy can support such a war. The moment the economy collapses, the victories on the battlefield no longer matter. His Highness believes the kingdom can afford to let the war continue. While it is technically possible if the kingdom directs all financial resources into it, what happens after the war? Economic stagnation will plague the kingdom for the long term. There would no longer be funds left to restore civilian life and societal order.

"It was wise of the royal family to take the initiative in the peace negotiations. Our kingdom has already occupied the territory of all three duchies and we require time to stabilise and strengthen our hold over them to rekindle the economy there so that they can provide our kingdom with sustainable wealth. But it requires investment and time. The deal we of the merchant nobles struck up a deal with the royal family is a win-win one. The royal family needs to curb the expanding influence of the old nobility while the new nobility needs our own market. We can increase our influence here in the three duchies' territory through trade.

"In other words, the new nobility is cooperating with the royal family on the matter. We're not listening to their commands unconditionally. The first prince misunderstood that and thought us his subordinates and wanted to use our funds to extend the war. That's why His Highness sees our refusal to cooperate as a kind of betrayal and refused all attempts from our side to communicate and reason with him and believes that the tantrum will cause His Majesty to change his mind, but doesn't truly understand that the war is unsustainable. It isn't something that can be turned around just because of His Highness' truancy."

Some parts of the gossip sounded a little excessive. Claude asked hesitantly, "There are many ways you can get the message across to the first prince, such as getting His Majesty to talk to His Highness personally. Actually, sending anyone suited to the task would do."

"This is where His Highness' childishness comes in. His Majesty made a visit to His Highness' quarters, but the latter claimed to be sick and wouldn't meet His Majesty so as not to spread the disease. His Majesty had no choice but to leave. As for someone His Highness would see, the moment matters of the frontline are mentioned, His Highness would chase the person away angrily. It's not a secret that His Highness is feuding with His Majesty and nobody dares to interfere.

"His Majesty had thought about switching out someone else to take care of the aftermath on the frontlines, but the problem was nobody was as qualified as the first prince and the officers from old nobility in dealing with this. Currently, among the 16 corps on the frontlines, two-thirds of them belong to the noble faction. Anyone other than the first prince going to the frontlines to take charge would only cause conflict with the nobles and delay the plans of the royal family and new nobility."

Duriaulo revealed the intricate details of the backstage political antics of the kingdom. Anyone would be troubled to have a superior so irresponsible like the first prince.

"So what's the use of seeking me out then?" Claude only wanted to save Skri, but he didn't think there would be so many complications behind that. If he thought about it, the struggles for profit between the royal family, old nobility and new nobility after the war didn't have anything to do with a minor captain like him. He simply didn't want to get involved.

"Not only that, my herbalism teacher, Baroness Maria, told me before that she doesn't have that good a relationship with the first prince. That's why she wasn't able to ask him to treat me favourably in the force. The first prince only calls her his aunt nominally, but they aren't that far apart in age, so His Highness isn't really willing to see her as his senior. My teacher also often avoids him if she's able." Claude was certain the new nobility knew about that.

"We understand your concerns," Duriaulo said with a nod, "but Baroness Maria is still the ideal person for the task based on the current situation."

He waved to dismiss Claude's question. "It's not that our friends in the royal capital didn't attempt to ask Lady Maria to help us out. However, she has refused our request to talk some sense into the first prince, which is typical of her, since she usually avoids sticking her hands in the kingdom's politics and refuses to partake in the turmoil in the royal family.

"But as the royal family's apothecary, she's the one that can actually enter the first prince's quarters given that His Highness had called in sick. According to our sources, there are quite a number of noble officers by the first prince's side, constantly encouraging him to be stubborn 'till the end until His Majesty yields.

"His Highness doesn't cooperate with us due to the influence of the noble officers and isn't aware of their true intentions. His Highness thinks they share his desire to avenge the three corps. But I'm sure you know that the soldiers on the frontlines are starting to hate continuing the fight and find the peace negotiations to be great news.

"What we hope is for the first prince to be made aware of the current situation at the frontlines. But the self-imposed house arrest and fannings of the noble officers completely shut His Highness off from this news. Sending someone else to talk His Highness into it isn't the best idea. It's one thing whether His Highness believes it or not, we aren't even granted an audience in the first place, and we could be seen as trying to push responsibility away or have other ulterior motives. Perhaps His Highness actually enjoys seeing us fail...

"We're reaching out to you because you're the best person for the job. First, you want to save Major Skri and clear him of those unfounded charges. That requires the first prince's involvement to straighten out the noble officers in frontline command. Second, given your status as someone His Highness favours and a knighthood holder, His Highness might just believe you. You're also Major Skri's subordinate and have participated in all of 1st Ranger Tribe's battles. It's completely reasonable for you to want to save Major Skri from his predicament.

"Third, your herbalism teacher is Baroness Maria, and she's the only one who has access to the first prince's quarters. You don't need her to talk to His Highness on our behalf. Just get her to leave a letter you wrote for the first prince to see. I'm sure His Highness will get a grasp of the situation after reading it and will stop insisting on continuing the war."

"I need time to consider this," Claude said with a furrowed brow. The idea of the new nobility was a good one. Having Claude write a letter to the first prince about the real situation at the frontlines was a good idea as it didn't involve national politics or the power struggles of the nobles. It would be far more believable.

Duriaulo nodded. "I hope you don't take too long, as a friend of mine from the top says that frontline command's staff officers want to drag you down alongside Major Skri as well, and use you to get to Lieutenant-Colonel Lederfanc. The lieutenant-colonel has been appointed by the first prince to become the vice supervisor of the military industry supervision office to manage the industries in the three southern prefectures. The old nobility would no doubt want to interfere in those affairs.

"Also, it's best to send someone else to take the letter to the royal capital. Don't rely on military post. If the old nobility gets ahold of your letter, they would check it and maybe even accidentally lose it. It'll never make it to the recipient."

Chapter 290 - No Limit to Imbecility

Duriaulo didn't lie. The third day after Claude finished the letter for Maria and handed it to Myjack to take it to the royal capital with Gum, an inquest arrived to investigate 1st Rangers' time in Count Krilaus' castle. They were really there to cause trouble.

"Good day, Captain Claude. I'm Lieutenant-Colonel Vaoli, I'm in command of this inquest," a fat middle-aged officer with a friendly smile greeted.

"Sir!" Claude returned as he stood to attention, hand shooting to his chest in the standard salute.

"No need for formalities--" Vaoli waved a casual salute as he spoke. "--This is Captain Darik, First Lieutenant Halchik, and First Lieutenant Sids; staff officers under my command. They're here to verify the battles and double-check the traitor's reports of meritorious achievements."

Claude swept his gaze across the three, then nodded in acknowledgement of their existence.

"Why aren't you saluting us properly?" the slender Darik snapped.

Claude felt his eye twitch imperceptibly in annoyance, but he didn't respond. He'd never heard of an officer saluting his juniors first, even if they were of equal rank, the one most recently promoted -- and thus the most junior -- would always salute first.

Claude shot an indicative glance at the captain's rank insignia on his epaulette, then at his own. They may be of the same rank, and the other might even hold the office longer than him, but he was a knight, and thus had seniority. Even the lieutenant-colonel could only count as his barest senior because of the time he'd held his rank.

Darik was either dense enough to miss the hint, or arrogant enough to ignore it.

"Captain Claude, we may hold the same rank, but I am the senior officer. Both in terms of the respective times we've held the rank, and in terms of the authority of my charge. I come under the personal direction of frontline command, placing me several leaps above you in the chain of command."

Darik stepped forward, a stern brow tensed intimidatingly. His two first lieutenant aides moved in lockstep with him, their eyes also trying to set Claude alight.

Claude didn't spare them so much as a second glance. He slapped his chest in their general direction absentmindedly, just below his badge of knighthood.

"Ugh..." Darik and his two lackeys choked down the rebukes they'd been ready to spew at him for his half-arsed salute and quickly slapped their chest as their backs straightened and their necks stiffened. Even Skri, when he was still a captain, had to salute Claude first even though he was his direct superior.

Claude slapped his chest absentmindedly again, this time in salute, though the action was all but identical to the previous one as he'd pointed out his nobility. His lack of proper decorum infuriated the three officers, but they had little choice but to swallow their anger. The lieutenant-colonel, for all his ill intentions, did know when to take a step back and stepped in to ease the tension.

"Let's get down to business. Captain Duriaulo allowed us to use his office, so let's move the discussion there."

The office was set up like an interrogation chamber. Vaoli sat behind a table to the left, Darik and his lieutenants sat behind another to the right. The three wore stern expressions, much like Claude expected a party of inquisitors to have when interrogating a criminal back on earth.

Claude sat on a chair in front of the three, no table to ground himself. An archivist flanked him on either side while Captain Duriaulo sat in one corner of the room as witness to the propriety of the proceedings.

"Let us begin," Lieutenant-Colonel Vaoli said as he knocked his table to gather the room's attention, "Captain Claude, please tell us everything you remember about the time 1st Rangers spent in Count Krilaus' castle. I would recommend not omitting anything or changing your story. We will compare the account you provide us today with your previous reports and the accounts of others."

Claude had no reason to lie, so he recalled their campaign in as much detail as he thought relevant over the next hour and a half. Most of his time was spent on the period of the siege leading up to Major Skri's decision to withdraw. No one interrupted him or asked any questions. The only other sound in the room for the whole hour and a half was the two archivists' pencils scratching in their notebooks.

That sound was incessant; as irritating and distracting as any interruption might be. It was so monotonous, so uninterrupted, that it bored into one's head and drilled little tunnels in one's memory. So much so that any question, any comment, any interruption that would halt those damned wooden torture devices soon became desired, even wished for.

Luckily Claude's account only continued for an hour and a half, and the pencils stopped scratching at his sanity when his words stopped flowing as well, otherwise, he might just have shot several fireballs at them and damned be the consequences.

He sat in blissful silence with everyone else while they then waited for the two devils to go over their scrawlings and make sure they'd not made any mistakes, then cross-check their records with one another. It took about half an hour, but they eventually nodded to one another, then to the 'interrogators', and handed the two transcripts to Claude to sign before pushing them onto Duriaulo to sign, and finally handing them to the three interrogators, and then Vaoli.

His initial testimony complete, the true interrogation finally began.

Vaoli sat with one of the transcripts in his hand as he began his portion of the questioning. His other hand rapped the table rhythmically, the sound soon becoming just as drilling as the archivists' scratching.

"Captain Claude, I admire your tribe's bravery. I can guarantee the kingdom will take most careful note of your efforts and sacrifices. I must ask, however, are you certain your report is wholly and solely the truth? Your account that you had no choice but to withdraw from the castle, for example. Personally, I believe you were more than capable of holding it with a little more effort. You've pulled off more impressive feats under worse circumstances, after all."

And there was the first trap.

Claude saw it coming a kilometre away, so he merely shook his head calmly.

"Impossible. We'd have to have held out until the fourth month -- a deadline we'd not even known existed at the time. We'd have run out of ammunition in another month. Sure we could have kept on fighting with our bayonets, but we'd be dead in another week. Even if we somehow managed to hold on, we'd have starved to death by the end of the third month. Major Skri, myself, and the rest of the command ran every scenario and it all ended with our deaths long before any relief could make it to us. Withdrawal was the only option. Soldiers can't fight on an empty stomach."

"Impossible? On an empty stomach?"

The short first lieutenant, his name was Sids if Claude remembered correctly, chuckled.

"You think otherwise?" Claude snapped, his eyes shooting sparks at the little man.

The little turd was at most Claude's age. People who were lieutenants at his age tended to fall into one of two groups. They were either geniuses with incredible talent, such as Claude, though he would never admit it, not even to himself, or they had extensive, powerful backgrounds. Sids didn't strike Claude someone as an intelligent man.

"No," the high-nosed turd answered, "Your dossier says you graduated middle school as a physical course student. Even if you flunked every subject in school, surely you know the story of the Seventeen Braves, or do you need a reminder about even that?"

Sids paused for half a moment, but continued just as Claude started parting his lips to retort.

"Let me give you one anyway and spare us all some time and embarrassment. The Seventeen Braves were warriors of the kingdom many centuries ago. They were trapped on a peak in Fiendtiger Ridge and ran out of food. They had a workhorse with them, however, so they slaughtered it and used its meat to continue fighting for another twenty days. On the twentieth day, just as they were about to be overrun, reinforcements arrived and cut down their besiegers.

"They had no food, and yet they continued on. They butchered and ate whatever they could. Had they been forced to hold out even longer, they would no doubt have eaten their dead enemies as well. Surrender or withdrawal simply wasn't an option for them, they would not take it even if it was offered to them on a silver platter. They fought to their end, their very nearly real, final end for their kingdom's sake. How can you call yourselves soldiers if you withdraw months before you were even anywhere near running out of food? How can you withdraw at the mere possibility of having to become creative to feed yourselves sometime in the future? The braves held on until they were relieved. You, on the other hand, gave up before you were anywhere near a precarious position and gave up on not just the castle, but vast swathes of territory which was the kingdom's by right of conquest! The braves slaughtered their last workhorse, and then kept fighting for another 20 days. You, on the other hand, ran away with your tail between your legs while you still had thirty workhorses! Starvation my noble arse! It's nothing but a convenient excuse for your cowardice!"

Claude didn't get mad when he and his men were called cowards to his face. It wasn't that he wouldn't be made absolutely livid at the suggestion, he was simply too dumbfounded that someone would dare make that suggestion to his face to get angry. He couldn't believe such a brainless imbecile could become a first lieutenant no matter how strong of a background he had. Was he one of the gods' children? Sure anything less would have seen him kicked out of the army a day after he showed up for training.

He certainly had never seen the battlefield. Hell, he'd probably never even read a single textbook on logistics in all his short years in the army at all. No military commander worth even a single pinch of salt would use a romantic epic more fairytale than even legend as a reference by which to judge the real-world performance of an actual military unit. Not to mention that the seventeen braves were in their predicament in the first place only because they'd obediently followed a beyond-stupid commander. If the Tale of the Seventeen Braves was a tale of anything, it was of the prices rank-and-file soldiers pay for the stupidity of their superiors.

Forget about the food, they'd have been dead in less than a week had there not been a fountain near the tip of the peak. They could have all the workhorses on the continent, but without water they wouldn't last five days just sitting around, nevermind fighting. They'd only held out because the enemy was in as bad a position as they were, and didn't try too hard to take them out, settling instead to wait them out further down the mountain where they had ready access to food and water.

On top of that, the braves were just seventeen people. 1st Rangers were 800 people strong when they marched out of the castle. Thirty workhorses sounded like a lot, but they vanished quickly when they had to feed 800 hungry, fighting mouths. If they took the numbers in the story as gospel -- now there was a term Claude hadn't used in a long time -- the 30 workhorses would extend their supplies by a month at most. If referencing a romantic wasn't proof enough of the lieutenant's stupidity, then him thinking they could hold out for months on just 30 horses definitely was.

Claude stared at the high-nosed turd, properly stared at him, for several, long, imbecilic moments, then sighed.

The hopelessness in his sigh must have been exceedingly obvious, because the little turd slammed the table with as much fury as his tiny little body could muster.

"And that sigh? Do you think I am mistaken? You reveal your cowardice during the most crucial moment in the war, and still have the gall to sigh indignantly at me when I point it out? And that after using such a stupid excuse as lack of food?! Where do you get the face to brag about your kill count? I really want to know. I'm beginning to wonder if you've ever even fired a single shot in combat at all and haven't just made up all your stories of glory to feed your delusions of grandeur!"

"If you've made up your mind already, why waste my time with this farce of an investigation? Go ahead and write your little report and mail it to your little masters," Claude spat coldly and deliberately.

"Ugh..."

Claude had the little turd by the sack. For all his bluster, he was barely a third-rate figure in the room. He had no right to write or submit any reports of his own. He served only as an aide to his superior and was only to write in confirmation of his superior's findings. Everything just now had truly been nothing but him blowing hot air. If this was not him dancing exactly to his masters' tune, he would have been shut up and kicked out the moment he opened his mouth. His short little career would have ended right there and then, if not his life. If there was only one thing the military took seriously, it was the giving of merits, and the reports on which their award was decided.

Even Rosley hadn't dared to misreport Claude's achievements. The best he could do was underplay their significance or importance, or downplay the danger under which they were achieved. The closest he'd come to truly misreporting the young officer's achievements was attributing kills he'd gained to his subordinates to even out the scores.

"Let's get back on topic, shall we?" Darik's other lieutenant, seated on the other side of him, said. "Your report states you abandoned the castle because of your lack of food and other essential supplies. I've run the numbers, and based on what you had with you when you returned to our lines, you still had more than enough to last all the way up to the 4th month. You could have lasted into, and possibly even beyond, the 5th month if you'd rationed properly."

"Huh?"

Claude did not like it when people tried to poke holes in his version of events with malicious intent, but he was open to honest commentary and criticism, so he invited the lieutenant to continue.

"At the end of the 10th month you still had enough food to last three months at full ration, correct?"

"Yes."

"You held out until the 2nd month before withdrawing because you say you didn't have enough food or ammunition left, correct?"

"Correct."

"And there's the problem!" the long-faced lieutenant shouted as he slammed his table, "Why didn't you start rationing the moment you realised you were cut off from your supply lines? Why didn't you, for that matter, start rationing the moment you noticed the enemy was preparing to come for the castle? You continued to feed your men full ration, three meals a day plus snacks. You could easily have extended the life of your supplies by another three, even four, months if you'd cut back to two meals a day! You are either completely incompetent, or you never had any plans to fight a long defence. Your cowardice was to only try to hold out as long as normal rations and operation was possible, and then running away the moment things started getting a little difficult because of your own shortsightedness and incompetence."

Claude had to relocate his jaw a second time. The little turd was bad enough, but at least he didn't try to hide his stupidity behind faux careful thought. Claude had to glance to Duriaulo to make sure he wasn't just being toyed with, that this wasn't some grand joke. The man only lowered his head slightly, while the archivists behind Claude continued to scratch away at new notebooks, their shoulders trembling from the effort to stifle their laughter.

Claude's eyes eventually returned to the first lieutenant, an expression of wonderment and honest admiration on his face.

"What is your name, my good sir?"

The first lieutenant was all too happy to answer him.

"First Lieutenant Halchik Lor Wardony. I have thoroughly exposed your schemes, so come clean quickly."

"You've certainly exposed something, First Lieutenant Lor Wardony, though I doubt it is what you believe it to be."

"What have I exposed, then?" the first lieutenant asked, sniff coming to his nose a moment too late.

"You've exposed this whole thing as a giant jester's performance. How on earth is two bowls of porridge and two pieces of black bread supposed to be enough to keep a fighting man fit for months on end?"

Claude had prepared himself for some extent of intellectual gymnastics during the interrogation, but he'd not expected his interrogators to not have a single bone in their entire body. What the hell did they think a soldier was?

"Why not? Any soldier loyal to their kingdom should be more than satisfied with that much. The refugees in Rimodra eat even less and they're still running to us with open arms--"

"You motherf*cking piece of shit! Are you seriously treating our men the same you do refugees?!" Claude burst, shooting from his chair in an instant.

If this f*cker ever set foot on the battlefield he'd be the first one shot, from behind, by his own men, first through each knee, then through each elbow, then through his scrotum -- not that that would do any damage since he didn't have so much as a single hair down there, nevermind balls -- and finally the back of his head. Claude doubted the final shot would kill him, though, because he didn't believe the fool had a single brain cell.

"Captain Claude, show respect! First Lieutenant Halchik has worked hard for months to take the best care of the Rimodran refugees possible under very limiting circumstances. If anyone can talk about how long rations can last, it is him. It is true that 1st Rangers are not refugees; they are soldiers, well-trained soldiers... Which is exactly why they should be able to last just as well on even less!" Captain Darik said as he stood up in rebuttal.

Chapter 291 - Imposters

"None of you have been on a battlefield before, have you?" Claude asked the fuming Darik.

"That has nothing to do with this. Captain Claude, you can reject First Lieutenant Halchik's estimations, but you can't deny 1st Rangers wasted your food."

"I reject the allegation that our tribe wasted food--" Claude looked at the three officers and turned to Vaoli. "--Lieutenant-Colonel, can you guarantee they're commissioned officers of our kingdom's army? I suspect they're imposters pretending to be soldiers. I am formally requesting an investigation. I also want to see your proof of identification. No true officer of the army would ever make such ludicrous statements, much less as accusations against another officer. I refuse to believe these disgraces are commissioned officers."

"You... you!" Darik panicked.

This damned captain was doubting their authenticity as officers? There was no greater insult an officer could suffer!

"Captain Duriaulo, as witness, may I ask if it is mistaken of me to hold such suspicions?"

He was on keeper territory, so he turned to their representative in the room.

"No, you are right to suspect them. I share similar doubts. I refuse to believe our army has such useless men even among the non-coms. I especially refuse to believe the army would commission officers who don't know the most basic of field operations doctrines. If frontline command is made up of such incompetence, we should thank our lucky stars the war ended when and as it did, and we should start cowering with our wives and children over what should happen to us in the next war." Duriaulo went to the door to summon his men.

"Wait... wait! Captain Claude, Captain Duriaulo, it's just a minor misunderstanding!"

Vaoli lost all of his former calm as he darted from his chair.

Claude and Duriaulo looked at each other and instantly knew something was off. Claude was intentionally trying to cause trouble and Duriaulo was only going along. They had only wanted to cause the bastards a little trouble, but neither had really believed any of them were imposters. Now, however...

"Freeze!" Claude warned, "Lieutenant-Colonel Vaoli, please produce your proof of identity! Otherwise I will treat you as an imposter!"

"You're the imposter! How dare you accuse nobility?!" Darik yelled.

He seemed to be all bark and no bite, however.

"You know the truth. Produce your identification and officer certificates!"

Duriaulo returned with a tent of men following him, filling the room up instantly.

"W-we didn't bring our papers... Our certificates are in frontline command HQ. You can follow us back to retrieve them," said the bespectacled Halchik with an ashen face.

"No identity papers? No officer certificate? What officer goes out on official duty without them? Arrest them!" Duriaulo ordered, before he turned to Claude. "You're amazing, friend. You exposed their fraud right away. I was still wondering why they didn't even know combat protocols and tried to frame you with utterly stupid arguments. That was a close one."

Sids, both his arms bound behind him, didn't yield.

"What's so odd about not knowing combat protocols? I've been busy at frontline command HQ. It's only normal to forget insignificant things! You two, however, dare to go against our authority! Wait for your court-martial! I swear I won't let the two of you off!"

Duriaulo laughed as he approached the man and gave him a slap, sending his hat flying. He grabbed his hair and tugged violently, causing him to grunt in pain.

"You, let me off? Huh. I think that's my line. You must be as unaware of what 'impersonating an officer' means as you are of what military doctrine is. Let me enlighten you a little and spare us all some time and embarrassment. It's a serious offence punishable with the firing squad, not just of you, either, but your entire family. As for what you call 'insignificant' combat protocols, open your eyes and look! They're hung on the wall!

"Look clearly. The second part is about logistics. When facing battle, all participating personnel must be fed well. Each soldier gets three full meals a day! Those working the night shift get extra meals. These regulations are there to ensure our soldiers are fighting fit at all times! No excuse, no situation, can justify breaking from these rules, especially not the one regarding meals. How dare you impersonate an officer and trouble Captain Claude without even knowing something so basic?!"

Duriaulo let go of his hair and waved to the other keepers.

"Lock them up separately. We'll deal with them when we have the time."

Turning back, Duriaulo let out a wry smile. "Mister 'Lieutenant-Colonel', I will need your proof of identification and officer certificate."

Vaoli's face paled as he shuddered nonstop. Sweat gathered on his forehead nonstop, He was already involved in the imposter scandal and there was no way to escape.

"I-I have i-i-dentification... I'm a commissioned officer of t-the kingdom... not an im-imposter..." Vaoli opened his uniform pocket and took out his documents.

Duriaulo took the papers and checked it with Claude. He was indeed a commissioned officer.

"Arrest him too!"

"No, I'm a commissioned officer, a lieutenant-colonel! You can't arrest me!"

Vaoli cried as he slumped to the ground.

"I can't?" Duriaulo waved the papers around. "Lieutenant-Colonel Vaoli, yes? You are a commissioned officer. But you're from logistics! Why are you impersonating someone from the army judiciary? I doubt the judiciary would make such a mistake. You better let the top investigate you thoroughly!"

"No..." Vaoli was dragged out by two keepers like a dead pig.

Duriaulo waved and called the two archivists over. Everything that happened was recorded. The records were handed over for Claude and Duriaulo to sign before the archivists left the two captains in the office.

"Hahahaha..." Duriaulo burst out laughing with a euphoric look on his face. "Friend, this is a great chance for us! The noble officers made a wrong move. I really don't know what goes on in their heads. They actually gave us such a huge weakness to exploit."

"A chance? A weakness?" Claude didn't understand what was going on. He only wanted to trouble the four officers by casting their identities in doubt. He didn't think Duriaulo would actually follow through with the whole thing and even seem so happy.

"You still don't understand?" The captain was aware that Claude was born in a small town and didn't really know about the struggles and schemes of the elite. Since he was in a good mood, he explained the whole thing in detail.

"Friend, I can only say you were incredibly lucky. I don't know which noble officer in frontline command got a seizure and let a logistics lieutenant-colonel impersonate someone from the judiciary and took three other noble officers to cause trouble for your tribe.

"If we didn't see through it, nothing would happen. But they actually exposed themselves. This won't be good for the noble officers. This will be a really serious incident that will send waves through the army and the royal court and involve everyone.

"Impersonating commissioned officers is a huge offence whether it's committed by noble or peasant. Serious offences are punished with death by firing squad while lighter ones get at least ten years of forced labour with no possibility of bail. I suspect the nobles in frontline command are getting ahead of themselves because nobody has been keeping them on a leash lately. They wouldn't commit a mistake like this otherwise.

"What we need to do now is to get this news out there. The more people that know this, the better. That way, if the noble officers want to save these four, they'll have to pay a huge price. Or, we can get them to do our bidding."

Claude wasn't interested in the scheming of the nobles in frontline command. He believed that life had to be simple to be enjoyable. But that didn't mean he didn't understand the intricacies of such matters. He just couldn't be bothered to.

"Can we use these fools to force the nobles to free Major Skri?" That was the only thing Claude cared about now.

"Hmm..." Duriaulo shook his head after some thought. "Impossible. The noble officers are under instruction from old nobility. Using Major Skri, they want to barge into the new territories the kingdom claimed, stop the rise of peasant officers, and take away the new nobility's investment and force the royal family to give them a monopoly over all military industries.

"They would rather give up on these noble descendants than Major Skri, who is crucial for their plans. They can compromise, but they won't go beyond their baseline. We have to question those fools immediately to see how much they're worth and how far their families would go for them."

"Alright. I'll leave this to you and look forward to hearing from you."

Morning the next day, Duriaulo sent for someone to call Claude to him. He looked rather tired and probably missed out on sleep.

"It's clear now." He pointed at a set of documents. "Sids Van Rulmke, 23, is the guard of First Lieutenant Hendlir from the logistics department of frontline command and is a corporal. Darik San Klenzout, 28, is the guard of Second Lieutenant Metz from communications staff and is a staff-sergeant. Halchik Lor Wardony, 26, is a proper officer, but his rank's only honorary. He's not a commissioned officer and was one of those sent to aid refugees in Rimodra.

"Van Rulmke, San Klenzout and Lor Wardony are all old nobility. While they're not the top dog, they're at least second rate. They had no choice but to enlist some of their members in the army because of the war, but they managed to work some ways to get the other established noble officers to make them their guards or buy them honorary Titles to get them to serve other local duties. That way, they can avoid being sent to the battlefield.

"As for Lieutenant-Colonel Vaoli, he's a parasite in logistics without any firm backing. He managed to set up a business arrangement between logistics and one of the old nobility that owns some military factories and benefits of the noble officers. He was the one who suggested taking the three nobles here. He wants to take down you, a knighthood holder, to advance his career."

Claude flipped through the interrogation records. The four fools' testimonies were roughly summarised by Duriaulo.

"It boggles me that the noble officers casually let them commit something so taboo as impersonating commissioned officers."

Duriaulo burst out laughing. "I have to admit that you really lucked out. Claude, my friend. The noble officers aren't actually aware that they came over. They've been busy dealing with other stuff and reclaiming enemy property. They wouldn't let anyone help them with pocketing wealth and couldn't free themselves up.

"The other reason is Major Skri stubbornly insisting that he was the sole person to call for the withdrawal from Count Krilaus' castle. Since he took all the responsibility, the nobles aren't able to escalate the issue and drag you down with him.

"The four fools here are part of the conspiracy and they know you're also on the list of people to take down. They also want to bring Lieutenant-Colonel Lederfanc, who's supervising the industries in the three southern prefectures, into this mess. So, they hid what they were about to do from the other noble officers and came here on their own accord to get you to yield. That way, they'd be able to gain some clout among the noble officers.

"They didn't think they'd be dooming themselves. We caught them red-handed and I already sent a carrier eagle to the ministry of the army to report about this impersonation scandal. I also used carrier pigeons to notify all units stationed nearby to warn them to check the papers of any person that claimed to be an officer from frontline command. I believe the noble officers in frontline command already got wind about this. I wonder how chaotic it is over there as they figure out how to fix this fiasco..."

Chapter 292 - First Lieutenant Perengue

"Greetings, Sir Claude," a handsome first lieutenant said with an elaborate salute.

"Greetings." Claude hurriedly returned the salute and looked at the carefree first lieutenant. He didn't think there would be such a young and heroic-seeming officer in Squirrel Village. "You are..?"

"This is First Lieutenant Perengue from frontline command's combat strategy office," Duriaulo introduced.

Another staff officer from the strategy office? Claude shot Duriaulo a glance, implying the question of whether he checked his papers properly.

Perengue understood what that meant and automatically took out his identification and officer certificate. "Captain Claude, please verify my papers."

Duriaulo cleared his throat. "There's no need. Captain Claude, I know First Lieutenant Perengue and he's hailed as a genius of our kingdom's young talent in frontline command."

Claude hurriedly changed his outstretched hand to receive the documents into a push. "Since Captain Duriaulo vouches for you, there's no need for a check. Forgive my rudeness, First Lieutenant Perengue. The recent incident forces me to be more wary than usual."

Three days after the four fools were arrested, Claude was just about to take a nap after dining in the tavern of the village chief. But Duriaulo sent his orderman to invite him to his office. Claude knew why he was asked to come when he saw the first lieutenant.

"It's understandable," he said with a warm smile, "Anyone would be extra cautious after experiencing something like that. Even though the war's over, the troops are still deployed and near a million men are still at the frontlines. It's only inevitable that misunderstandings occur, and the most worrying thing is how some would take advantage of the situation to cause trouble and interfere in matters that have nothing to do with them and make a whole mess out of it."

Perengue gave Duriaulo a look as he said that. They appeared to be on unfriendly terms.

Claude agreed. "That's right. First Lieutenant, truer words haven't been said. Even though the peace treaty is signed and the war is over, some people still dared to besmirch our tribe while their superior officers were occupied. I heard our tribesman, Major Skri, was arrested by the staff of frontline command and accused for losing the kingdom's territory. It's just that, an unsubstantiated accusation. Our whole tribe is dissatisfied with how this matter is handled and we'll bring this case to the ministry of the army, or even to His Majesty, if we have to."

"Umm... About that..." Perengue was taken aback. He didn't think Claude would change the subject to Skri and imply that the crooks Perengue mentioned were the ones who accused Skri.

But he reacted rather quickly. "I wonder if that could've been a misunderstanding? I heard about this matter in frontline command and Major Skri himself pleaded guilty to the charges and bore all responsibility. This case has already been closed and the decision cannot be overturned."

"Closed? Haha..." Claude gave a few wry laughs. Had Skri not wanted to protect the rest of the tribe, he wouldn't take all responsibility himself. But Claude didn't intend to continue the banter with Perengue. "So, First Lieutenant Perengue, what assignment are you here for?"

"Oh, assignment? I'm not here on an assignment. I'm actually here because I have some personal matters I need Sir Claude and Captain Duriaulo to help me out with."

He made sure to emphasise Duriaulo's name. It sounded like he was gritting his teeth as he said that. Their relationship was definitely more complicated than it appeared.

Claude wasn't interested in prying into their matters. He gave a curt wave and said, "You give me too much credit. First Lieutenant Perengue, we don't know each other well and I'm sure you have far more acquaintances in frontline command that can help you out. I've only been crawling about at the frontlines and was fortunate enough to achieve what I have. There isn't much I am capable of helping you out with. I'm sure seeking me out for help was a mistake."

None of them were fools. They were merely feigning ignorance. However, Perengue didn't think Claude would refuse him so cleanly.

"I still require your assistance with this matter no matter what," Perengue said in a solemn voice and a hateful tone while glaring fiercely at Duriaulo, "Captain Duriaulo mentioned that you have to agree to this matter, or he wouldn't have the authority to give me a response."

"Oh? Is that what he said? He's merely being polite. Don't listen to him. He calls the shots here. It wouldn't be appropriate of me to interfere with the matters of his keepers. The rest of 1st Ranger Tribe is stationed in Squirrel Village and is only helping out with defence. All other matters are handled by the keeper tribe, which Captain Duriaulo commands." Claude still firmly stood his ground. He refused to involve himself in their grudge.

"Let me be direct, Sir Claude. I'm here for the four people you arrested. Sids Van Rulmke is my cousin. He's still young, foolish and impulsive. We weren't aware that he had stolen First Lieutenant Hendlir's uniform to impersonate an officer and cause your tribe trouble. It's only an impulsive act on his part and he definitely didn't mean to infringe on your dignity. Youths are always wilder than most. I'm sure we have done stupid things when we were younger too, so I hope you can forgive their brash actions and let me take them away. I promise to teach them a lesson they'll never forget."

Perengue stated his intentions clearly and took a few steps forward, took eight gold notes out of his pocket and placed them on the desk. Each note was worth a hundred crowns.

"This is but a token of our gratitude for your understanding and tolerance of my cousin and the other three's behaviour. As long as you let them leave with me, I promise you will earn the friendship of our families," Perengue said with his finger pointed at the notes.

Claude looked at the notes and shot Duriaulo a helpless glance. He was wondering whether Duriaulo had a personal agreement with Perengue and pushed Claude out to make the call. Perengue wouldn't dare to bring out those notes so directly before Duriaulo like that. Knowledge of bribes was best kept to as few people as possible. One extra person knowing about it increased the risk of exposure exponentially.

Duriaulo understood the meaning of that glance and shook his head with a bitter smile. "I already told him that this matter isn't up to me. The four had come here to cause trouble for you and your tribe, and we've already reported this to the ministry of the army and are awaiting an investigation from the top brass. Yet, he still hasn't given up on it and insists on meeting you. He said he wants to earn your forgiveness personally and allow the four to leave and wants me to report that the four escaped due to our inadequate security. The notes are the price he's willing to pay us."

Eight hundred crowns would definitely be a huge sum to the common bumpkin. Claude believed that any other officer of the tribe would be willing to risk their lives for such an amount. But that kind of money didn't hold any attraction to Claude. He has more than a thousand crowns in his bank account and couldn't spend it on the frontlines. There's no point in having money if one didn't live to spend it after all.

Claude pointed at the gold notes and knew that he would have to give Perengue a clear answer. "I don't need money. If you can release Major Skri and clear his name, I will release the four, even if it means I have to be held accountable for their 'escape'."

Perengue pondered for a moment and shook his head. "That's not something I can do. Major Skri's case is set in stone. Our families aren't able to change that fact."

"Then there's nothing I can do," Claude firmly said, "I can only do things the official way. Please take your money back, First Lieutenant Perengue."

The man silently stepped forward to collect the notes. After opening the door, he turned back and saluted Claude. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Sir Claude."

After he left, Claude turned to Duriaulo and asked, "Hey, what does he mean by that salute? Is he saying that their families will take it out against me?"

Duriaulo didn't know how to react. "You're overthinking this. Those four fools already said that you are one of the peasant officers on their list to suppress. What difference does their ire make? Don't worry. The families of those four and Perengue don't have that much influence in the army.

"As for what the noble officers can do against you, it'd mostly be slightly tougher hurdles and obstacles, such as more difficulty obtaining merits and promotions. Don't worry. They won't dare to harm you directly in the army. That would be overboard and they'd be in huge trouble if that happened. We peasant officers number far more than them after all.

"As long as you take care not to break military regulation, those noble officers can't do much to you. If they want you punished, they'll need a good reason. Given that you're not under the spotlight, just stay here without a low profile. They won't be able to do much if you're not deployed anyway. It's too bad that the war's over. If you can gain more merits and get promoted to major and above, those noble officers ranked captain and below won't be able to touch you."

That made quite a lot of sense. Claude nodded and his mind wandered back to Perengue. "By the way, does he hold some kind of grudge against you? There's something about the way you look at each other."

Duriaulo sighed and nodded. "That fellow used to be my neighbour and grew up with me. We were even schoolmates. I have a sister four years my junior and one year his. Everyone calls them a match made in heaven and my parents saw him as a son-in-law.

"Back then, we were still young and thought those happy days would go on. But his father, a viscount of the kingdom, betrayed the new nobility to join the old nobility after he caught the eye of some of the old noble families and had an opportunity to enter their monopoly of the military industry.

"That was a huge blow to us merchant nobles. Their whole family was seen as traitors and everyone cut off contact with them. They soon moved away and truly became turncoats. Perengue was fourteen that year and transferred to the noble youth military school. We didn't see him for the next five years to come.

"When I later graduated from the youth military school and joined the royal guard for training, I met him again. There was a group of noble officers there to train in the royal guard just like us. As our factions are natural rivals, we got into lots of conflict. One time, we decided to entrap those noble officers and manage to get them demoted a rank below us peasant officers. That made them the most humiliating batch to train at the royal guard.

"Later, that fellow approached my sister for revenge and managed to rekindle their lost feelings. My sister wouldn't marry anyone but him. Right when our parents were forced to let her go on with the marriage, word came that he was engaged to a girl from an old noble family. My sister fell really sick and almost couldn't be saved.

"So, I got a few friends to beat him up. That fellow didn't resist or beg for mercy and only clutched his head and let us beat him. He said he really did love my sister, but his father forced him to get engaged to the girl from old nobility and said he didn't have a choice."

It occurred to Claude that these nobles' youth stories could be written into epic sagas. It sounded particularly dramatic. "You nobles really can't catch a break, huh? You get involved in drama wherever you go..."

"Well, the noble circle in the kingdom is both large and small at the same time. The relationship between families over a few centuries do play some part at the end of the day. I rather envy you, in fact. At least you live a free life. Unlike us, you don't have to take every step with the prosperity of the family in mind. First Lieutenant Perengue had tried to coax us softly with gifts. But we have to be ready for the harsher ones to come."

Chapter 293 - A Life Lost

Staff-Sergeant Siegfried, Captain Duriaulo's adjutant, hurriedly entered Claude's room. "Captain Claude, frontline command sent someone here to escort the imposters away. Our captain refused their request and they're in a standoff in his office..."

Claude knew that Duriaulo needed his support. He got up and notified a signaller to get Dyavid and his band to rush to the keepers' camp to forbid anyone from taking the four criminals away. Then, he followed Siegfried to the office. On the way, he bumped into Moriad, who tagged along with Claude to witness the commotion.

He didn't expect the noble officers to take action so quickly. It had only been three days since Perengue had left and the army judiciary had already sent someone to take custody of the four. Claude had been to Pacasia, a city in the prefecture of Pauralto, where frontline command was situated before and it took three days and two nights to travel from there to Squirrel. Even if they were traveling on horseback, it would take at least two days and a night.

It seemed the nobles had prepared in advance for Perengue's failure. Perhaps they had men from the judiciary put in a town nearby. Perengue had immediately departed to meet up with the rest. That was the only explanation for how quickly the judiciary's men showed up.

The corridor outside Duriaulo's office was lined with a tent of enforcers dressed in red uniform tops and black pants. There was a tri-coloured sash on each of their sleeves to denote them as enforcers of the judiciary. Claude could hear people yelling as he went up the stairs. "Captain Duriaulo, you have to let us take the criminals away..."

Two enforcers stood at the stairwell, perhaps having been instructed to refuse entry to the office to anyone. But when the two of them saw the shoulder marks of Claude and Moriad, they saluted and hurriedly went to the side. They were only instructed to bar the way of normal soldiers, not officers.

"What's going on?" Claude asked as he stepped into the office. Moriad closed the door behind them.

There were only three people in the office. Duriaulo was seated behind his desk without speaking a word and couldn't help but show a look of joy at the sight of Claude and Moriad. The other two should be officers from the judiciary in frontline command. One of them was a first lieutenant who looked to be in his late twenties and wore a moustache. He sat on a couch in the office and sipped away at his glass of fruit wine.

The other second lieutenant was rather burly and chubby. He was the one yelling just now and he stood before Duriaulo's desk. Most of the pressure Duriaulo was forced to endure came from that fierce second lieutenant.

"Who let you in?! Buzz off!" the second lieutenant spat without looking closely at Claude and Moriad's shoulder marks. He lashed out at them the moment he noticed them enter.

Claude widened his eyes. Before he had a chance to speak, however, Moriad charged up and rebuked the man.

"Are you dumb?! Where did you come from? How dare you ask a superior officer to buzz off? To think you'd have the guts to commit insubordination!"

The savage officer noticed Moriad's second lieutenant shoulder mark; he wasn't afraid of an officer with the same rank as him. But when he saw Claude's shoulder mark, he hurriedly saluted and apologised.

"Apologies, Captain, I didn't pay attention and thought my subordinates had entered. I am willing to accept punishment for my transgressions."

Claude glared at him coldly without returning to salute.

"Give yourself two slaps on the face and make sure not to do this again!"

"Yes, Sir."

The second lieutenant slapped himself without any hesitation and his face swelled red at a speed the naked eye could detect.

In the Aueran military, insubordination was not a light crime, but it wasn't crucial either. Usually, any officer caught doing so would be punished on the spot. It was almost common for the offender to be asked to slap themselves. Some more sadistic officers would intentionally cause trouble for the offender and get them to do handstands, bark like dogs or do a hundred pushups in public. It was bad to the point that top brass had to issue a notice to limit the scope of punishment a superior officer could deal out.

Claude turned to the moustached first lieutenant on the couch. He was quite quick and had put down his wine glass and stood at attention. The moment Claude turned to him, he saluted. "Greetings, Sir Claude."

Claude returned the salute.

"You know me?"

The first lieutenant smiled.

"Of course. I can't imagine any other knight captain standing before me but you, Sir."

Though they were of the same rank, Duriaulo was the junior. It was an unspoken rule that keepers were one rank below their combat counterparts. That was why Duriaulo needed Claude to deal with the matter. He simply didn't have the clout to deal with the two officers from frontline command. The first lieutenant was considered one rank above him because of the latter's status as a keeper as well as the fact that officers from frontline command were regarded a rank higher than the rest.

Claude, however, was different. He was a captain of 1st Rangers and under the command of the first prince. The tribe was an experimental independent combat unit and their ranks were on par with those of the officers in frontline command. He was also a bearer of the knighthood's order of merit. A captain of frontline command had to salute him, to say nothing about first and second lieutenants.

Claude nodded. "The two of you are from the judiciary of frontline command? Please show your identification."

"You..." The swollen-faced second lieutenant seemed to want to blurt something out. He seemed enraged, but he was rendered frozen by the strict glare of the first lieutenant.

"Of course. Please inspect our identification and officer certificates." The moustached officer was happy to comply.

Officer certificates weren't large and they simply contained the rank, name, age and unit of a soldier. The identification was at least double in size and had detailed descriptions of a person's height and appearance as well as the units they trained in as well as the posts they held in frontline command.

"First Lieutenant Jiblik Sha Levinster from frontline command staff..." Claude mumbled.

"It's yours truly, Sir Claude." The man nodded with a smile.

"You give it a look too." Claude handed the documents to Duriaulo and turned back to the first lieutenant. "Sorry, First Lieutenant Jiblik. We have no choice but to be careful. There has been an attempt to impersonate officers a few days back, which I'm sure you're aware of. So, we have to be extra careful with our checks. We don't want to be laughed at for repeating our mistakes, after all."

Jiblik smiled a little awkwardly. "It's only expected. It can't hurt to be more careful."

"What about yours?" Claude turned to the rough-looking second lieutenant and said.

The burly man wasn't of noble birth. He was called Bechmil Nitaya and was from the judiciary. However, he wasn't a staff officer, and was a disciplinary officer instead. He was the commander of the tent of enforcers out in the corridor.

Duriaulo gave the documents of the two a look and nodded to Claude.

"Alright, I believe you're truly from the judiciary. What business do you have here?" Claude took over Duriaulo's role as the person in charge.

Jiblik turned to Duriaulo and saw that he showed no reaction. He had given control to Claude. So, he could only smile helplessly. "Well, Sir Claude, we were conducting a disciplinary survey of the troops in the prefecture of Alfest and heard about this impersonation incident as we were passing through Rosa. So, we hurried here to take custody of the criminals so that they may be judged by the judiciary of frontline command."

Claude smiled. "Oh, is that the case? It's no wonder you lot threw a huge tantrum here in Captain Duriaulo's office. Did he refuse to hand them over? It's not actually his fault, you know. What we do with the criminals is up to me. Even if he agrees to hand them over, it's useless."

Jiblik's expression darkened. "Sir Claude, what do you mean by that? Are you going to get in the way of our official duties? This is a transgression of military regulation and you should be aware of the consequences that entails!"

"Official duties?--" Claude snickered. "--Then please show me the warrant and order to transfer custody of the criminals. Don't think you can take custody of them if you don't have a warrant from the ministry of the army and a personal order from the first prince himself."

"Sir Claude, please be reasonable," Jiblik said sternly, "Taking custody of criminal soldiers and giving judgment is the duty of the judiciary. We don't need a warrant or the order from the commander-in-chief. Please cooperate with us and hand the four criminals to us. Or else, we will charge you for obstruction of justice!"

"Obstruction of justice? That's a huge crime..." Claude didn't show an ounce of fear. "Don't think I don't know that the four criminals report to frontline command. You are just trying to shield your colleagues, not carry out justice. Are you trying to clean up after yourselves?

"If I hand the criminals to you, I doubt I'd hear a follow-up on this case. If we check in at a later date, there'd be no doubt no such record of this incident would exist. So, apologies, gentlemen. You better return to whence you came. This isn't something you can interfere with. It isn't a matter under your jurisdiction."

Jiblik glared hatefully at Claude. "Sir Claude, let me ask again. Are you really going to not cooperate with our assignment?"

"Hah, your assignment?" Claude shook his head. "I'm not obstructing anything. I am just requesting that you follow proper protocols. Please hand me a warrant and the order from the commander-in-chief. I will hand you custody of the criminals immediately."

"Very well, Sir Claude," Jiblik said with emphasis on each word, "You are now charged for obstruction of justice. I shall arrest you with the authority of the judiciary! Please follow me back to frontline command and cooperate with the investigation!"

"Bullshit!" Moriad snapped and sent a punch flying into Jiblik's face, striking him down on the spot. It happened so quickly that nobody could've seen it coming. Claude hurriedly hugged him and stopped him from escalating it further.

"You.... dare.... ack... hit me?" Jiblik clutched his face in pain. The punch seemed to have broken his nose. Blood flowed out of it incessantly. The man struggled to get up and roared with fury. "Arrest them! Second Lieutenant Bechmil, what are you waiting for?!"

"Yes, Sir!" The burly man didn't charge forward. Instead, he reached out with his right hand to his short-barreled musket. With his left hand, he swiped a struck a match against the desk and lit the slow match with it.

"Hands up!" Bechmil said with the gun trailed at Claude and Moriad.

Bang! A gunshot rang out within the office.

Claude looked at his own body in shock before he turned to Moriad. He didn't find any wounds on either of them.

With an audible thump, Second Lieutenant Bechmil was the one that fell to the ground There was a bloody bullet hole in his face. The short-barreled musket in his hand was dropped to the ground and its slow match was still lit, but it hadn't been fired.

Claude turned back only to see Duriaulo with a smoking short-barrel himself. He was looking at the corpse of Bechmil in a daze. Claude looked at him and Duriaulo struggled to explain, "I... I only wanted to shoot his hand... I didn't think it would hit his face..."

"You... you dared... you actually dared to kill Second Lieutenant Bechmil..." Jiblik was shuddering. A life was lost, and this matter was going big. He no longer cared about his hurting nose and shrieked with his finger pointed at Claude, "Men, come!"

The door was pushed open, but surprisingly, the ones who entered weren't the enforcers. Instead, it was the fully-armed Dyavid.

"Where are the enforcers at the entrance?" Claude asked.

"They were disarmed by us and are kneeling in the main hall," Dyavid replied without a care.

"What do we do now?" Claude asked Duriaulo.

The captain finally snapped out of it. He pointed at Jiblik and said, "Let's arrest him first. I'll write a letter to the ministry of the army to report on them for faking a disciplinary survey with the intent on forcing us to hand over the four officer impersonators..."

Chapter 294 - Countermeasures

"Why would you have a short-barrel musket here?" Claude asked the blank-looking Duriaulo after Dyavid and a few other troops took Jiblik away.

"Oh, this musket..." He just realised he was still holding the fired gun and hurriedly put it back in his drawer. "This was given to me by my father before I enlisted. Even though I was made the tribesman of a keeper tribe and stationed here, I don't have to fight on the frontlines with my life on the line. My father still insisted I keep one musket around to protect myself. I usually have it stored in the drawer and I lit the slow match when Second Lieutenant Bechmil aimed his gun at you..."

He still seemed a little dazed. "I swear I was just aiming at his hands. I was trying to shoot his gun away. I... I didn't think it would hit his face."

Claude counted his blessings that he wasn't standing opposite Duriaulo when he made the shot. There was less than five metres, but he still managed to miss the hand and hit the face. That accuracy was appalling to say the least. If Claude and Moriad were a little bit less fortunate, they might've been hit as well.

"Alright, let's put away the matter of your aim. He's already dead, so we should consider how we ought to wrap this up. Are you sure your reasoning just now will work?" Claude asked before he got Moriad to pour the captain a glass of wine to calm him down.

"What did I say just now?"

Claude understood that Duriaulo had said what he did in a panic and forgotten it. "You said to send a carrier eagle to the ministry of the army reporting that Second Lieutenant Bechmil and First Lieutenant Jiblik were using disciplinary patrolling as an excuse to try to extract the four imposters from us and tried to force our hand when he denied their request."

Duriaulo picked the glass up and finished the wine in a few gulps. "Thanks. Get me one more glass, please."

After finishing the wine, his eyes regained some clarity. He gave it some thought and said, "We have to get the story right and make sure there are no loopholes. Let's emphasise that the four imposters were from frontline command, and that Jiblik and Bechmil wanted to force us to hand them over without a warrant and the order of the commander-in-chief. Let's say we refused them because we suspect they have ties to the four imposters.

"We have to make sure to state that we agreed to hand the imposters over if they produced the proper documentation. But they didn't and tried to come up with a ridiculous reason that staff officers from frontline command didn't require such documentation. We, on the other hand, think that since the war is over with the signing of the peace treaty, frontline command no longer holds that kind of authority and all orders must come from the proper chain of command with the ministry of the army at the top, so we refused their request."

Claude slapped his thigh when he understood the idea. Duriaulo was trying to redirect the blame. The death of an officer from frontline command could be spun as the natural consequence of the power struggle between frontline command and the ministry of the army. The bigwigs in the ministry would side with them because if they didn't, it would mean tolerating frontline command still holding authority over near a million troops. Were they going to restart the war? Would it be a civil war this time? That would only stroke the paranoia of the bigwigs, especially with the first prince in his self-imposed house arrest and frontline command having free rein to do whatever they wanted.

Claude truly admired the scheming of these nobles. Be they old or new nobility, mind games like those were in their blood. He was quite nervous about Duriaulo shooting a disciplinary officer dead since that would no doubt cause a huge chain reaction.

But after some gulps of wine, Duriaulo managed to calm down and think up a plan to wrap up the incident. If his explanation were to be believed, not only would be completely innocent, he would be doing the ministry of the army a service. After all, he thwarted the scheme of frontline command to take the four officer imposters back and defended the dignity of the ministry of the army, which was the rightful highest authority of the army.

"Right," Duriaulo said as he picked up the second glass of wine, "So they got enraged after our refusal and aimed a gun at us to force us to hand the prisoners back. We had no choice but to resist to defend ourselves and got into a melee. Second Lieutenant Bechmil's gun misfired during the melee after we managed to grab onto the barrel and pushed it away, so he ended up shooting himself in the face and died on the spot."

Now, he managed to push away responsibility for Bechmil's death to the dead man himself. It wasn't uncommon for short-barrel muskets to misfire in fights. It was all his fault for taking his gun out to threaten others in the first place so nobody could be blamed for it.

Corporal Siegfried went upstairs with a bucket of water and wiped away the blood of the dead man.

Claude looked at the bloodstains as they were wiped away and got the half-emptied bottle and began gulping down its contents. When he put it back down, he said, "That's a good story, but don't forget about First Lieutenant Jiblik. He has hands and a mouth too. How would we deal with that loose end?"

Moriad put himself bravely forward. "Sir, leave this to me and Dyavid. I'll make sure he gives us a satisfying testimony."

Claude was hesitant about it, but Duriaulo nodded with satisfaction. "Alright, we'll leave this to you. You're a witness too, so if Claude and I get into trouble, you won't be able to get away either. You also punched the first lieutenant just now, so if he regains freedom, he'll definitely get you back for it. I don't doubt that in the slightest. Corporal Siegfried, please notify the signallers to come. I want to send a secret message to the ministry of the army immediately."

Moriad and Dyavid had long been interested in 'taking care' of noble officers like those; it was a trait that lingered during their gangster days in the royal capital before their enlistment. Even though they were members of noble families, they were seen as no better than commoners and would often get into conflict with their peers of higher status. They would only be able to endure the humiliation in those cases and wouldn't even dare to tell their family members about it.

Claude got them together and passed on the secret skills of waterboarding, through-book hammering, honeyed-foot goat-licking and so on. He was worried those two would be too rough-handed and leave visible marks of harm on Jiblik that would inspire suspicion. The two of them were once more shocked at how Claude wasn't how he passed himself to be before they excitedly rushed to try out their new tricks on Jiblik.

The carrier eagle Duriaulo used wasn't the one assigned by the ministry of the army. Instead, he used one reared by his own family. Even the carrier eagles of his signallers were from his family. That was so that the new noble families could keep better in touch with each other. Usually, the carrier eagles 1st Ranger Tribe got were from frontline command.

It would take around a day and night for the eagle to reach the royal capital. Usually, carrier eagles from the top brass took only three hours to arrive at frontline command. That was why Duriaulo decided to wait one day to report the matter. It would be best to get Jiblik's testimony first to clear him of any suspicion while not having to wait too long for the ministry to reply.

Claude made some estimations and found that Myjack and Gum would require another two to three days to reach the royal capital to hand his letter to Maria before it would be handed to the first prince, and that was assuming no incident during the journey happened. That was why Duriaulo wasn't counting on the first prince to deal with this matter. It wasn't even certain that Claude's letter would spur the prince into action to take care of the mess that was the frontlines anyway.

Moriad and Dyavid only spent a night to get Jiblik to yield and write up a testimony they were satisfied with. It was more or less the same as Claude's guess. Jiblik and Bechmil had come with a tent of men to try to force them to release the four imposters so that the noble officers wouldn't be at risk. What they expected to be an easy assignment, however, took a huge turn when Bechmil was shot dead and he was arrested.

But when Duriaulo read it, he got Moriad and Dyavid to take the first lieutenant for another spin to rewrite one that implicated him and Bechmil to be the accomplices of the four imposters, and that they had come to save them. There was, however, no need to directly state the names of any officers from frontline command.

Soon, the new testimony was done. Jiblik admitted that he and Bechmil had come to rescue the four imposters. In the testimony, however, when Jiblik was forcefully questioned whether he had accomplices in frontline command, he bit his tongue to kill himself regrettably.

Duriaulo said that he would use a carrier eagle to send the testimony to the ministry of the army as well, hoping that they would be able to receive a direct order from them to refuse the unreasonable requests of frontline command.

By then, a day and night had passed since Bechmil's death and Jiblik had also taken his final breath. Corporal Siegfried used some water to clean up the bare, honey-covered feet of the poor lieutenant that was forced to laugh for the whole night and put his socks and boots back on. Then, he took the goat that licked the feet for the whole night away from the basement room with the corpse.

Duriaulo used Claude's name and his own to make the report about Jiblik's death to be sent to frontline command and copied a few more to send to nearby units using carrier pigeons. He told his new nobility compatriots to spread the matter among the peasant officers so that as many knew about it as possible.

As expected, Jiblik and Bechmil's death caused chaos and turmoil in frontline command. When the noble officers read the report for the first time, they thought it was a drunken prank by someone. Only after they confirmed the news did they react with wrath. After countless discussions, they decided to declare Duriaulo's keepers and Claude's 1st Rangers traitors to be exterminated.

But by the time they came to the decision, the noble officers found they no longer had the authority to mobilise troops. All corps, local keepers and garrisons could no longer be ordered to do anything unless there were orders from the ministry of the army or the commander-in-chief. Frontline command had neither, and even the noble officers among the top brass didn't dare to act out of their line to attack Squirrel Village with the units under their command.

It wasn't something those noble officers could decide on. Anyone that acted carelessly could be declared traitor to the kingdom. Mobilising troops to attack friendly units could easily be construed as an act of rebellion. Additionally, without the first prince's orders and the ministry's permission, the peasant officers subordinate to the noble officers could refuse their superiors' orders to attack Squirrel Village and even strike back at them for having corrupt motivations.

Chapter 295 - Judiciary Investigation Committee

"Sir, the corpsman of Anbris, General Bokarek, sent you a letter by carrier eagle," the signaller reported as he put down a top-secret correspondence on the table.

Duriaulo read it and spat before he put the letter on a small stack of similar ones. He already received enough secret letters to stack them up into two piles. One was smaller, the other was larger.

"What's going on?" Claude was sipping away at a glass of fruit wine by the window as he watched a clan of 1st Rangers soldiers emptying the traps along the mountain path. Moriad was inspecting the trenches at the slope nearby. Back then, Claude fortified the area because he wanted to defend against the forces of the Canasian and Askilinian nobles. Now, he was preparing himself for a possible army coming his way from the three southern prefectures.

"It's nothing." Duriaulo stood up. "A corpsman of an irregular corps who works for those old nobles sent me an eagle message to ask us to submit to frontline command's demands. They want us to go to them to turn ourselves in and hand in the criminals and evidence before accepting punishment to avoid any 'undesirable consequences' such as being made traitors to the kingdom and shaming our families and so on.

"These fellows are all bark and no bite. They think they can take us? Send their forces over then. Let's see if these useless morons dare. Since when did frontline command have the authority to declare someone traitor? Who knew that the staff officers whose job was to collect intelligence and offer strategic suggestions would become the absolute authority on the frontlines? Nobody could've seen this coming."

It was indeed an unforeseen circumstance. Three days had passed and they were still only arguing verbally about the matter. When Duriaulo sent word that Bechmil was accidentally killed in a melee and Jiblik had killed himself to frontline command, apart from the nobles all declaring Claude and Duriaulo traitors of the kingdom and had to be punished, as well as messages being flown all across nonstop, not a single troop was mobilised to attack Squirrel Village.

The reason was simple: frontline command no longer had the authority to mobilise soldiers. Even the noble officers high up in the pecking order wouldn't be able to get their subordinates to attack Claude and Duriaulo with their personally signed orders. By the time the nobles realised that was going on, they knew that they had blundered badly. But they had already made their provocation and proclamation that they would send out troops, so they could only act out the charade to force the so-called traitors to turn themselves in. The top brass from the other corps also sent eagle messages to Squirrel Village to pressure Claude and Duriaulo to not resist that stubbornly.

The main reason Prince Hansbach set up a strategy department in frontline command was to settle the noble officers that joined him down. He knew that the nobles were all high and mighty and were only all talk. Without sufficient time, it would be really hard for him to pick out any actual talent from their midst. So, he intentionally set up that department to make it more convenient for him to make observations and let the nobles have a place to be so they wouldn't disturb the peasant officers in frontline command doing actual work. That would also decrease the amount of conflict that occurred between the two factions.

The first prince's plan was quite well thought out, but he couldn't just make the strategy department seem like a puppet department either, so eventually, many nobles somewhat capable were transferred to various other departments such as the judiciary and the communications department over four years. Eventually, noble officers permeated all departments of frontline command.

During that time, the strategy department's duties were to collate all information on the frontlines and formulate the most effective solution for any problem that surfaced. At the same time, they could provide extra proposals for the top officers in frontline command to pick from. Only with their agreement and signature would the plans be handed to the other departments and delegated.

That allowed the noble officers in the strategy department to feel like they have the illusion of making the decisions as the plans chosen to be executed were products of that department. At the same time, it served to limit the scope of the nobles in the military. Without the signature of the top officers in the various departments of frontline command, the proposals of the strategy department were nothing more than waste paper.

But when Prince Hansbach failed to stop the peace talks in the royal capital and threw a tantrum, the noble officers in the strategy department no longer kept to their place. They united the noble officers in the other departments of frontline command and forced General Miselk Kor Priest, the acting commander-in-chief during the first prince's absence, to retire from frontline command with bad health as the excuse, allowing the noble officers to completely take control of frontline command.

What they didn't expect was the control they thought they held over the million-man army held was nothing more than a vacuous illusion. For matters of less relative importance like logistics in the rear, military regulations and enemy spoils, the heads of the other departments in frontline command were happy to cooperate by providing their signature. But when the nobles wanted to mobilise troops to punish the so-called traitors, the department heads demanded a personally signed order from the acting commander-in-chief, General Miselk Kor Priest, which the nobles were unable to obtain.

Even the department heads who belonged in the old nobility faction refused to sign that order to mobilise. First, they didn't have the authority to do so, and second, they wouldn't dare risk the livelihood of their families to realise the dream of those unhinged nobles. If they gave their agreement to the operation, they would essentially be participating in a mutiny as the kingdom expressedly didn't give frontline command any authority to order the mobilisation of troops on their own accord.

Duriaulo was backed up by the many secret orders he received from the ministry of the army in which his uncle worked. The ministry's reply to the report he sent about the incident praised Claude and him for refusing to go along with such a ridiculous request and also ordered them to not cave in to the pressure of frontline command. They were ordered to wait for the ministry of the army to send their own people to investigate the matter.

As Duriaulo mentioned, the peace treaty was signed and the war was over. Even though the first prince was abstaining from his duties on the frontlines, the acting commander-in-chief should have been working with the ministry in dealing with the near-million troops on the frontlines. Those units that had to be disbanded should've been and the ones that needed to be downsized had to be. As for the conscripted soldiers in the irregular corps, they ought to have been returned home to wait for the next war when they will once more serve as cannon fodder.

But the ministry was unable to carry out those operations currently. Miselk Kor Priest had allegedly resigned due to health reasons and there was no candidate to take his place. And the ones actually in charge of the million troops on the frontlines were the noble officers from the strategy department.

It was starting to develop into a rather pressing issue. It wasn't that the ministry didn't want to do anything about it. The first prince was simply too stubborn to be bothered to do anything about it and any personnel the ministry suggested to take Miselk's place would be shot down by the strategy department. Even with the decree of Stellin X, nothing much could be done. Prince Hansbach was still the official commander-in-chief and without his orders, the soldiers could technically disobey all other instructions, and the king actually made a decree and set a precedent in which they were disobeyed, the consequences would be pressing to say the least.

And right at that time, a keeper tribesman, Captain Duriaulo, and a clansman of the first prince's experimental ranger tribes and knighthood bearer, Captain Claude, got into conflict with officers from frontline command. They first captured the four officer impersonators from frontline command and somehow got the two judiciary officers they refused to hand the prisoners over to be killed.

Not only did it shock the whole kingdom, the noble officers in frontline command were completely shaken. They mistakenly declared Duriaulo and Claude traitors and announced they would be sending troops to admonish them, but it was the wrong move as they didn't have the authority. Now, they went up to the pedestal without planning a closing act.

And for the ministry of the army, this created a perfect opportunity for them to send some people to the frontlines to deal with frontline command by citing investigating the matter as an excuse. They would use that chance to find out what was really happening and find out more about the noble officers in charge. The fact that nobody else in frontline command heeded the call to mobilise by the noble officers gave the ministry hope to regain control over their army at the frontlines.

So, the ministry sent an eagle message with a secret order for Claude and Duriaulo to not cave to the pressure. They also ordered the disciplinary officers in the various corps on the frontlines to form an investigation committee to find out about the matter in Squirrel Village. Lastly, the ministry also sent some high-ranking military officers with Stellin X's decree to frontline command in preparation of disbanding much of the army.

Duriaulo looked at the stack of letters on his desk and said with glee, "Did you see that? Of the 20 irregular corps and two main corps, only around 30 high officers, mostly folksmen and above, advised us to admit our crimes. However, the linesmen and tribesmen subordinate to them sent us secret correspondence to express their support for us, almost a hundred in total. Even if the higher-ups want to deal with us, none of their subordinates would be foolish enough to carry out those moronic orders."

"It can't hurt to be prepared. The troops are also lazing off a bit too much lately, so letting them work is a good way of keeping them in combat shape." Claude finished the rest of his wine. "When will the committee arrive?"

Duriaulo took one letter from his desk and said, "Three days later according to them. The royal section of the judiciary will send out their chief disciplinary officer, General Welster, eight irregular corps will send eight supervisors and sixteen disciplinary officers, and one royal guard enforcer band will accompany them. There are 136 people in total."

"I hope they will come to investigate this properly instead of blaming us all the way."

"Haha, you don't have to worry about that. General Welster is known as Welster the Just. He commands great respect in the royal guard. Some noble officers know him as Welster the Stiff, however, as he judges nobles and peasants equally without argument."

Duriaulo poured another half a glass of wine for Claude. "Also, I realised that five of the eight supervisors from the irregular corps are peasant officers. Half of the sixteen disciplinary officers are also of common birth. They are our natural allies since nobody likes those haughty noble officers."

Claude almost laughed. "You should be a noble officer, you know."

Duriaulo waved the wine glass in his hand. "No, no, no. You're mistaken. Claude, my friend, I'm only noble in status, but I'm not a noble officer. I can't compare to the noble officers whose families have been serving in the military for generations. They are the ones with the wide network of benefits in the military and the grasp over the military industries in the kingdom, so the royal family has no choice but to tolerate them.

"I, on the other hand, joined the war to serve the kingdom, even with my status as a noble. Now that the war is over, I believe it won't take long before my keeper unit will be disbanded. By then, I can take off my uniform and return home to my peaceful life of hunting, going to balls and banquets, and talking to beautiful noblewomen in the gardens instead of drinking my boredom away right here."

Chapter 296 - Investigation Ongoing

"Our most respectful greetings, General Welster." Claude and Duriaulo stood a the beginning of the curling mountain path near Squirrel Village to receive the investigative committee and show their respect.

The slightly white-haired Welster wore a straight face and returned a salute expressionlessly from horseback. Then, he waved and his adjutant yelled, "Dismount!"

The long line of riders stopped on the path and their riders dismounted.

"General, it's possible to scale the mountain on horseback," Duriaulo said as he stepped forward.

"No need. I've been riding for the good part of the morning. I just happened to want to stretch my body out a little." Welster looked at the path and continued without a change in tone, "Take us to your camp first."

"Yes, General Welster. Please follow me." Duriaulo had wanted to help take care of the general's mount, but the man simply tossed the reins to his adjutant, leaving the captain with empty hands. He awkwardly turned around and led the way.

The plot of land east to the village had been flattened by the keeper tribe. Four rows of tents were erected there for the ministry's investigation committee to stay in. Apart from providing the food and other daily necessities, the keepers were also in charge of maintaining security in the camp of the enforcer band. There were standard protocols when it came to the scope of an investigation committee. Everything from accommodation, food, and spending had to be done according to the regulations to the letter to prevent the slightest conflict of interest.

The distance between Squirrel Village and the mountain path was less than two hundred metres. Many of the men had arrived at the area designated for the committee.

"General Welster, this is the accommodation. The stables are further behind. There's a public washroom and a warehouse to the left. We've prepared enough hay for the horses as well as some firewood. To the right are the cafeteria and bathing area, and the main tent located in the middle is your office and meeting room. There's a map of the area around Squirrel Village inside. The greener parts further ahead are the pastures in front of the village where work horses and livestock can graze..."

Duriaulo dutifully introduced the general to the place. He had expended quite a bit of effort with the other keepers over the past three days to get the whole place in order. To make sure there were enough tents, he even took those from Claude's unit. Claude's men were moved to the wooden houses at the back of the village in rather cramped living conditions. That way, the accommodation of the committee would be spacious enough and be to their satisfaction.

Claude had no choice but to comply. He wasn't as good as Duriaulo when it came to hospitality. In fact, he was probably worse than a complete amateur. He didn't know the slightest thing about providing for an investigation committee headed by a general.

It was quite apparent that Duriaulo's efforts hadn't gone to waste. General Welster nodded with satisfaction when he saw the camp. "Captain Duriaulo, we appreciate your efforts."

The adjutant was quite sharp and the moment the general said those words, he instructed his men to move all their horses into the stables and ordered the band of enforcers to set up outpost towers and fortifications. He then took a few other ordermen to the central tent where the general would be spending the night.

Only 30-odd people remained by the general's side, eight among whom were field officers ranked major and above. Their shoulder marks had either two to three silver crescent moons. The rest were all junior officers. Quite a number of them were captains just like Claude.

A first lieutenant walked over and saluted Claude and Duriaulo before introducing himself as First Lieutenant Leonard from the logistics and communications unit of the royal guard. He had been sent to investigate supply matters. During the investigation, he required the two's cooperation with regards to purchases the committee would make.

As expected of someone from logistics and communications, it didn't take him long to act really familiar with Claude and Duriualo as if they were old friends. It was then when the first lieutenant brought the two to the higher-ranking officers and introduced them one by one. "These here are judiciary inquisitors from the various corps. From the Lasdonkrun corps, we have Colonel Balvia, from the Kugria corps, Colonel Colombit, from the Krusig corps, Colonel Majlir, from the Tordesass corps, Colonel Eidbowen..."

Irregular corps of Aueras were basically formed in designated conscription areas. In peacetime, only a folk of soldiers were kept on the payroll. Only after war broke out would they begin forced conscription and train their recruits for a short term before deploying them on the frontlines. That was the reason the corps were named after the prefectures they were from, though, generally, they were simply referred to collectively as irregulars.

Claude only just understood why Leonard introduced himself to them first. He wanted to introduce the two to the judiciary inquisitors of the eight irregular corps so that they could get off on a friendly note. Welster couldn't possibly do the introductions given how high his rank relative to theirs was. Claude was just thinking how he would approach the eight inquisitors ranked major and above. First Lieutenant Leonard's initiative was a great help. With his introductions, everything went on smoothly.

"Greetings, Sirs, I am the clansman of Frontline Command Independent Combat Unit, 1st Ranger Tribe, 1st Clan, Captain Claude."

"Greetings, Sirs, I am the tribesman of Royal Garrison Unit 0378 Mountain Path Keeper Tribe, Captain Duriaulo."

The two saluted the eight inquisitors nonstop and announced their unit, designation, position and rank. They had to do that once for every officer Leonard introduced them to as they saluted. They could only move on to the next one after the inquisitors returned their salute. After finally finishing the greetings with the higher-ranking officers, only the lower-ranking ones were left.

Remembering so many names at once, especially those of the eight inquisitors, was a tough task. There were still more than thirty other officers Claude wasn't introduced to yet and he suspected he'd forget a good half of them by the time he was done.

First Lieutenant Leonard was now introducing Duriaulo to the rest. Military regulations stipulate that when a junior officer meets a superior officer, the junior officer must salute first and report his details. It was too bad that while Duriaulo was a captain, he belonged to the kingdom's garrison and was considered a rank lower, around the rank of a first lieutenant. So, he needed Leonard to make the introductions first before he launched into the routine.

Claude was different. He was a captain and had the knighthood badge. He was automatically considered superior to the other captains and they had to salute first and make their introductions, just like the first and second lieutenants that came after them. Claude only needed to salute back without saying a word and he soon realised that the other officers seemed to be rather pissed at him for that.

Half an hour later, they were acquainted with all the officers. It wasn't surprising that the first lieutenants and captains were from the enforcer units of the royal guard and the irregular corps. The other eight second lieutenants were adjutants to the judiciary inquisitors.

Duriaulo told General Welster that he had reserved a tavern in the village to refresh the members of the committee. The welcoming banquet held during the afternoon would only be attended by officers ranked second lieutenant and above and the band of enforcers would be dining with the rest of the keepers in the cafeteria. As for dinner, the committee would cook their own food with the ingredients they got from the hosts.

While Squirrel Village's tavern was rather old, the traditional dishes served there earned brilliant praise from the members of the committee. The rather humble banquet worked wonders on their appetite and many of them thanked Duriaulo for his work getting it ready. Claude remained mostly silent throughout. He wouldn't go around talking to others and making merry like Duriaulo and only engaged in quick conversations with those who'd approached him.

After the feast, the committee members rested for an hour or so in their camp. Welster's adjutant, Captain Reinkel, notified Claude and Duriaulo to meet at the central tent at three in the afternoon for the first meeting. They would be discussing the investigation relating to the death of First Lieutenant Jiblik and Second Lieutenant Bechmil from frontline command. The corpses of the two and all other evidence had to be brought there for the committee to inspect.

Duriaulo didn't think Welster would move at such a quick pace. They began the investigation before two hours even passed after the banquet. However, he and Claude had made good preparations and didn't have to worry about anything. He gave the order for the corpses and other stuff they requested to be brought to the committee's campsite.

Claude and Duriaulo changed from the hosts to the investigated. Duriaulo first stated his testimony: two officers from frontline command came with a request for the criminals' release, which Duriaulo refused, so the officers forcefully kept him from leaving the office. Duriaulo's adjutant, Corporal Siegfried, thus went looking for Claude, who later rushed to the office with Second Lieutenant Moriad.

With Moriad and Claude there, Duriaulo could properly refuse the two officers' ridiculous request. They reasoned that they had received instructions from the ministry of the army to keep the imposters imprisoned before the investigation committee came over. But the officers began to react with anger at hearing that and Bechmil took out a short-barrel musket from his uniform and lit the slow match to threaten the three to release the criminals.

Moriad charged Bechmil while he wasn't paying attention and pushed the musket away, and Claude also went to his aid. They wanted to disarm the second lieutenant, but he held onto the gun stubbornly and bent down in an attempt to prevent the gun from being taken away. The short-barrel misfired right then, much to the fright of Claude and Moriad, who thought either of them had been hurt. They didn't think Bechmil would fall face-first to the ground instead. When they turned him over, they found a gunshot wound on his face. He had died on the spot.

The evidence presented for that was the short-barrel that had Bechmil's initials engraved on the handle. Any close acquaintance of his would surely recognise that as his personal belonging. There were traces of the misfire left on the gun. The serpentine of the gun was modified to be more sensitive and the slightest shake could easily send the slow match into the flash pan to set off the charge.

There were many witnesses as well, the enforcer tent being among them. They attested that Bechmil always carried around the gun with him and that they also heard a gunshot. But by then, they had been disarmed by Dyavid's band and were kneeling in the hall downstairs.

Claude and Moriad's testimonies were mostly similar and the investigation committee quickly came to a conclusion that Bechmil did, in fact, die from his short-barrel's misfire. There was a hole in his face the size of a bullet from the short-barrel musket, not the size of a bullet fired from a standard-issue musket. As such, Bechmil's death couldn't be blamed on anyone else. Nobody would like being threatened at gunpoint during official duties and the fact that he carried a concealed weapon on him only showed that he didn't hold good intentions in mind.

The only thing that the committee pressed on was why Claude brought Moriad along with his band after hearing about the situation from Corporal Siegfried and even ordering Dyavid to disarm the enforcer tent.

Claude's response was clear and simple. He and his tribe had just returned from being besieged by the enemy and was greeted with the news of Major Skri's arrest by frontline command's judiciary. After that, the incident with the four imposters coming to cause trouble for them occurred.

Then two judiciary officers came over with a tent of enforcers and even kept Duriaulo from leaving his office. It was a huge red flag because there was no good reason for judiciary officers to keep him confined if they were there on official business. Feeling suspicious, Claude ordered Dyavid to get his men to disarm and capture the enforcers.

The officers of the committee met each other's gazes and had to admit that Claude was right to suspect them. Duriaulo wasn't a criminal. He was the one in charge of the keepers there. Nobody on official business should have any reason to keep him confined in his office. Claude's response to disarm the enforcers was a right one as his orders were to defend Squirrel Village, which was considered to be the frontlines. He had to be extra careful.

Thus, the book was closed on Second Lieutenant Bechmil's death.

Chapter 297 - Investigation Concluded

Claude had never imagined that the investigation would be so detailed. They didn't just conclude after taking his and Duriaulo's testimonies. They even got everyone who had seen Bechmil and Jiblik to testify. The enforcers Dyavid disarmed were the closest to the scene when it happened and heard the gunshot. Everyone was questioned three times and their testimonies were relentlessly cross-referenced for contradictions.

Some investigators even had Claude and Moriad and a volunteer act out their melee to reenact how the misfire happened. That was when Claude understood why Duriaulo had him and Moriad relentlessly reenact the brawl two days back. He knew that the committee would use that method.

Claude figured that the investigators that insisted that they reenact the melee were the ones holding ill intentions towards them and should belong to officers allied with frontline command. Perhaps they believed they would be able to expose the lie and reveal how they had intentionally harmed Jiblik and Bechmil.

However, everyone's expression stiffened after the reenactment. At the end of it, Moriad spoke loudly.

"I thought it was weird that the gun went off even though I didn't touch it. So that bastard was trying to hit you, Sir..."

The scene was set up thusly: Bechmil was squatting down with his body facing the ground and right shoulder hanging low while his right hand grasped his lit musket tightly. Claude stood beside him and grabbed onto his left hand and shoulder in an attempt to drag him up. Moriad was half-kneeling to the right and trying to tug Bechmil's right hand outward with his right hand and pushing Bechmil's right shoulder with his left.

Those were all consistent with the testimonies of Claude and Moriad. Bechmil was squatting down and the reason he had his right shoulder hanging low was so that the other two wouldn't touch his musket lest it be grabbed away from him. Normally speaking, the short-barrel musket held in the second lieutenant's hand should've been pointed downwards, yet the man was shot in the face. That meant that Bechmil had turned the barrel up before pulling the trigger.

Bechmil wouldn't shoot himself, so why would he turn the barrel upwards? The answer was simple: he was trying to shoot Claude to his left because Claude had his arms around his left shoulder. Bechmil held his gun in his right hand and couldn't shoot Moriad, who was trying to push his hand away from his right, so he naturally tried to turn the barrel to aim to Claude.

What Bechmil surely didn't expect was that when he pulled the trigger, Moriad would tug his right hand outwards, causing the barrel to shift and aim at his face and cause the tragedy.

"How could this happen?!!" General Welster slammed the table. It was clear to him that Duriaulo, Claude and Moriad weren't lying. Instead, Bechmil allegedly violated a lot of regulations and protocol. Threatening a superior officer with a short-barrel musket and attempting to shoot others in a melee were huge offences that would turn into a scandal for the judiciary if allowed to spread. Fortunately, Bechmil had hurt only himself and there was still some way to salvage this.

"Let's close the case and conclude it as a case of manslaughter as a result of a misfire," Welster decided. Claude and the rest were cleared of suspicion for Bechmil's death, at least.

It was already around nine at night. Even though they had a large meal during the afternoon, they only got some blackwheat bread and red tea to fill their stomachs to prepare for their busy schedule during the night. Duriaulo asked whether they would be postponing the investigation into Jiblik's death to the next day, since it was getting late and they didn't want to impose on their rest.

But Welster refused. The weather was getting hotter by the day and it wouldn't be easy to keep corpses preserved. It would be best for them to inspect the corpse before it started to smell and settle the case for good.

With the case of Bechmil as precedent, most of the investigators were willing to trust Claude and the other two's testimonies. When they were shown Jiblik's corpse, they easily came to the conclusion it was suicide for two reasons: his tongue was indeed missing as a result of him biting it off and there was an eerie smile on his face.

Nobody could've figured out that the smile was actually there due to having his feet licked by a goat. He smiled so hard he stuck out his tongue and all Moriad and Dyavid had to do was hold his tongue and smash his chin close.

The investigators didn't know one could commit suicide using that method. They were more familiar with poisoning or hangings. Tongue-biting would be no issue for Claude and the rest as nobody could force someone to bite their own tongues off and leave such a ghastly smile on the face after death.

However, the officers who got the two to reenact the melee weren't satisfied. They took off Jiblik's uniform and inspected the whole body, only to be disappointed as there was no trace of beatings or other interrogation techniques, save for some light bloodstains on the shoulder.

Moriad explained that the injury came from the three gripping Jiblik a little too tightly after Bechmil threatened to shoot them and killed himself. The tense situation caused them to exert a little too much force.

The investigators didn't really care for the minor wounds. However, they still suspected them of using underhanded methods such as threatening to kill Jiblik's family to get him to commit suicide.

Then Duriaulo took out the testimony Jiblik had left behind. He said he questioned Jiblik immediately after Bechmil died. Perhaps due to shock from Bechmil's death, he answered any question asked of him and admitted that he was in cahoots with the four imposters and had come to rescue them.

The testimony had Jiblik's own signature and didn't seem to be tampered with. One feature of the words was that they were rather hard to read, which could be explained by the panic felt by Jiblik at the time of writing. He had probably still been shaken by his partner's death.

It was only after he finished writing the testimony that Duriauolo realised that he didn't really know who allowed the enforcers to come with the two officers were and they couldn't be sure whether they were also accomplices.

So, Duriaulo decided to once more question Jiblik about it, but now, Jiblik kept completely silent. Instead, he smiled wryly and suddenly bit his own tongue off. That was something even Duriaulo didn't expect. He had watched Jiblik kill himself before him.

The hostile investigators still weren't fully convinced. Perhaps they didn't recall that Jiblik was someone brave enough to commit suicide. Yet, the evidence was laid before them and there was no arguing with it.

"It's getting late. I think it's best we close the case now. It's obvious what has happened here. Sir Claude and Captain Duriaulo weren't in the wrong at all and shouldn't be charged with treason. I think we have to focus on those folks in frontline command. Even with the first prince's absence, the war has ended and the ministry should once more take charge of the forces. They shouldn't be allowed to hold them back at the frontlines. Do you have any other questions? If not, please sign your names here for the record," General Welster said.

The general was the inquisitor of the royal guard's judiciary and he was appointed by the ministry to handle the case. His words meant that Claude and Duriaulo were proven innocent and the death of Jiblik had nothing to do with them. Instead, they ought to look into the matter of the two officers' transgressions.

Welster was the first one to sign his name on the case records and stamp his personal seal. The other eight inquisitors from irregular corps also did the same. Last came the 20-odd lower-ranking officers. They had to sign and stamp as witnesses to ensure that there would be no further argument about the case's verdict.

The belligerent investigators didn't dare to put up a fit lest they anger their inquisitors. Even though they still held suspicions, they signed their names.

Claude breathed a sigh of relief in his mind. They were finally cleared of suspicion.

Duriaulo had them wait before he served up a delicious meal cooked up by the tavern to thank them for their efforts.

In a rare occasion, Welster indulged in the food. He spoke in a more friendly manner to Claude and Duriaulo, maybe because they were now cleared of suspicion. He simply picked some food to fill his stomach and said that he would have to interrogate the four imposters the next day.

Duriaulo said that since they had worked so hard that night, it was about time they got some good rest. There also wouldn't be much trouble with interrogating the imposters since they were alive and well. They had also provided testimonies of their attempt to cause trouble for Claude and it wouldn't be a tough case to crack.

With the aid of wine, the atmosphere within the tent grew livelier. Though, the two corpses in the tent were a little jarring to look at. Duriaulo asked how they should deal with them and the general simply asked him to deal with them as he would soldiers who died on the battlefield. They would be cremated and put into urns labelled with their names and sent back to their families with their personal artefacts.

It had been a week since their deaths and spots were beginning to form on the corpses. Claude left the tent with the reason being dealing with the corpses and he ordered some troops to haul them with stretchers to the slope further away from the village. Firewood was piled around them before a good dose of fuel was sprinkled all over to burn the two corpses up.

Laughter and merry-making could be heard coming from the camp of the investigators. Duriaulo had the barmaids of the taverns serve the investigators in the tent. Even though it was initially called a supper, it played out more like a banquet. Duriaulo had started preparing for the event even as the investigators were busy working.

The corpses were gradually covered in flames and the smell of cooked meat was wafting in the air. Claude was accustomed to the smell; it couldn't have been stronger than the time he set the whole village on fire. The soldiers waiting to collect the ashes, on the other hand, couldn't take it and coughed. Claude tossed two thales to those soldiers for them to get a bottle of wine each to wash their throats down lest they be unable to eat anything for the next few days.

The investigation committee left two days later with the four imposters as well as the urns and documents relating to the case. Claude had wanted to ask General Welster about Major Skri's case, but the general refused to comment on that matter as he was only there to deal with the imposters and the killed judiciary officers from frontline command. Whether Skri was innocent or not wasn't up to him to decide.

Claude wore quite the disappointed look as he watched the committee leave. Duriaulo, now relaxed, tried to console him. "General Welster was speaking the truth. He's the inquisitor of the royal guard's judiciary and doesn't have the authority to interfere with that case. Your only hope of saving Major Skri is the first prince coming back out soon."

Chapter 298 - Train of Thought

In the coming ten-odd days, Claude could only stay crestfallenly in Squirrel. Even though the ministry of the army cleared them of any charges of treason, they weren't able to do anything about saving Major Skri. The noble officers of frontline command had been figuratively slapped in the face by the judiciary of the ministry of the army and no longer dared to accuse Claude and Duriaulo, but they halted the transportation of supplies to 1st Ranger Tribe and demanded that the clansman of 1st Clan to go claim it from frontline command.

That happened to be Claude's position. The 2nd Clan's clansman, Hamocklin, was still recovering from his wounds in the infirmary and the clansman of the 3rd, Heickham, had been sent to an infirmary camp of the frontline command due to injuries too severe. He didn't participate in the siege of Count Krilaus' castle and his clan was instead commanded by Skri. Kurdwak was the clansman of 4th Clan and was currently put in charge of tribe headquarters ever since Skri was arrested.

Skri had a premonition that something like this would happen when he ordered for the tribe to retreat, so he ordered Claude to station his clan in Squirrel Village to help Duriaulo defend the mountain path. Apart from that, he transferred all the veterans from the other three clans to make up for the men 1st Clan lost. In other words, Claude's unit was the strongest and the best equipped. It even had a band of cannoneers.

Initially, Claude's clan was supplied by tribe headquarters in Rosa, but since frontline command no longer sent the tribe supplies, Kurdwak had no choice but to register with frontline command. However, he was stopped by the noble officers who demanded that he write a report to accuse Claude and Skri for conspiring to abandon the castle and give away the kingdom's territory to the enemy.

Kurdwak didn't yield either and claimed that he was newly transferred to the tribe and didn't know anything about those matters. Currently, he was only taking Skri's place as acting tribesman and he wouldn't write any expose no matter what. The officers had no choice and they only put their stamp to supply the tribe's troops in Rosa, excluding Claude and his clan.

In the official notice Claude got from frontline command, they stated that the war had ended and other factors such as the number of men and their arsenal had to be considered. As Claude's clan was posted in Squirrel Village and not tribe headquarters, when no proper tribesman was serving, the clansman had to personally go to the logistics department of frontline command to apply for supplies to prevent corruption.

The documents seemed to be in order, but Kurdwak secretly sent people to warn Claude not to go to frontline command. They were leading him into a trap. Claude had never planned on going in the first place. He was no fool. As for his supply problem, it was fortunate that Duriaulo's keeper tribe stockpiled three months' worth of goods which Claude could use to alleviate the situation.

Claude felt particularly emotional as he laid in the bed of his lover, Sheila. His recent experiences had greatly shaped him. The reason the noble officers no longer dared to send their men to trouble Claude was that it was his turf. He had a full clan of armed, capable men who obeyed his orders without question.

The noble officers, on the other hand, controlled up to a million men, but they had no right to mobilise them. The most they could send was a tent of guards and that would amount to nothing but unnecessary casualties. The guards would definitely not be making it back. That was why they had to rely on such tricks to get him to go to them. If he went there, his life would be in their hands.

If the noble officers actually had any authority to mobilize troops, they would definitely not allow the ministry of the army to close the case on the two incidents. They would hurriedly send a force there to blast Claude and Duriaulo to smithereens and they could charge them with whatever crime they wished. After all, dead men tell no tales.

Claude felt that he was blessed with quite the fortunate circumstance. If he didn't have a clan of men, frontline command could easily arrest him with a few people and once he was on their cutting board, it was game over. Even if he cooperated with them to incriminate Lederfanc, that wouldn't make much of a difference.

By the time he was no longer of use to them, he believed the noble officers wouldn't allow him a good ending either. It was most possible that they would silence him, or fake his suicide, or plan an accident, such as choking on bread. In the eyes of those nobles, a mere captain like him with a knighthood wasn't that much better than an ant at their foot.

He had the epiphany that gaining authority was the best solution to protect himself. Before, he was far too naive and only wanted to learn magic and gain dignitarian status after he served his term. Now, it seemed so jokingly childish. There were many things that could involve him even if he had nothing to do with it. It was just like being hit by a stray bullet.

Take for instance Skri's arrest. Even though he claimed sole responsibility for the allegations and Claude ought to be fine, the noble officers wanted to use him to drag Lederfanc, the former tribesman, down as well. He couldn't avoid it even if he wanted to. The only way to deal with it was to bravely resist and put up a fight.

Duriaulo, on the other hand, might not necessarily stand on his side if the interests of the new nobility weren't being undermined through that plot. Given how adept he was at dealing with the schemes thrown at him, he was obviously far more practised in the matters of subtle plots and Claude was no more than an ignorant bumpkin in comparison.

Bechmil and Jiblik's murder at the hands of Duriaulo and Claude actually managed to be spun into something that had nothing to do with them with Duriaulo's machinations. They even earned the investigation committee's praise for it.

The more Claude thought about it, the more fearful he got. After experiencing something like this, he came to understand how many more unknown truths were behind public announcements. If he didn't want to be the one people tried to sweep under the rug, he would have to grasp even more authority and power. Only then would he be able to ensure that he and his interests wouldn't be harmed.

He had thought he was satisfied with the captain rank and be able to brag about it back in Whitestag. But now, he felt far too insignificant. He could easily be used by those noble officers that he pissed off to mop the floor with. If he didn't have Maria as his herbalism teacher, Duriaulo and the new nobility might not stand on his side either and choose instead to watch the show from the sidelines.

While Duriaulo was just a captain and tribesman of a keeper tribe, having far inferior rank to his commissioned captain rank, he definitely had far more soft power in the form of networks and allies. The allied forces of the new nobility could hold their own in the struggle against the old nobility, after all, and even let the lofty royal family depend on their wealth.

After seeing how Duriaulo managed to convince the committee that a deer was actually a horse, Claude raised his evaluation of the man. Even though he was on his side for the moment and had the old nobility as their common enemy, Claude still reaffirmed his wariness for the new nobility to prevent them from screwing him over in the future.

Back on old Earth, his boss would always tell him that there were no eternal enemies or friends in the market, only eternal profits. That was why everyone put on a mask before discussing business but never signed a contract until they were doubly sure of their profits and costs.

Claude felt the new nobility were just like businessmen in that way. On old Earth, he could rely on his boss and he didn't really like doing business negotiations anyway, so he could live the free life he wanted under his boss' care. He could easily go to pubs and clubs with his boss to let loose and womanise without having to put on a mask and act like a serious gentlemen in a huge charade.

But this world was evidently not like the one before. He didn't have anyone watching his back and had to deal with everything himself. He needed to learn how the interactions of the elite worked and had to strive to climb the ladder. It wasn't even a matter of whether he liked it or not. Only by doing so could he make sure his loved ones and family had a safe environment to live in. He would learn from his boss to gain even more power and prestige.

"Why aren't you asleep yet? Something on your mind?" Sheila asked as she snuggled in.

"Ah, I was just about to sleep--" He hugged his lover tight. "Well, the war's over and I'm starting to miss home. I haven't been back for five whole years so I've been feeling a little disturbed. That's why I've been losing sleep lately."

The next morning after an intimate and exciting 'morning warm-up session' with Sheila, Claude got out of bed energised. He finished breakfast and bade his lover an unwilling farewell before mounting a mountain horse and going his way.

When he arrived in the village, he saw Duriaulo's adjutant, Siegfried, standing at the entrance. He seemed overjoyed to see him. "Sir Claude, you're finally back! The captain had been complaining the whole morning that he wasn't able to find you cause you didn't tell him where your lover lived. He wants me to take you to his office immediately."

Claude dismounted. "What happened?"

"The captain received a carrier eagle message this morning and seemed overjoyed and asked me to seek you out. He recalled that you told him you were spending the night with your huntress girlfriend and would be back this morning and asked me to wait here." Siegfried took the reins from Claude.

"Alright. I'll go to your captain immediately."

When he entered the office, he saw Duriaulo downing one glass of wine after another till his face was flushed red. He stood up excitedly and waved the letter in his hand around. "Friend, we've won! Prince Hansbach returned to frontline command and took back control! The old nobility's goons didn't dare to disobey a single one of his orders at all..."

The joyous news came too suddenly and overwhelmed him with both shock and joy. The return of the first prince meant that everything would be put back in order and Major Skri would be fine. He hurriedly asked, "Why didn't we get any word of this a few days ago? When did His Highness return?"

"The secret letter states that His Highness showed up at frontline command all of a sudden yesterday night. According to His Highness' guards, His Highness had gone to the outskirts of the royal capital to hunt. Nobody knew that the first prince was actually going to the frontlines. When they left the royal capital, they travelled quickly and disguised their identities as messengers heading for the frontlines, so nobody noticed," Duriaulo said with a gleeful smile.

Claude poured himself a glass of wine and downed it in a gulp. "Guess we can truly relax now. The noble officers won't dare to pull any shenanigans with the first prince there. I wonder how long it'll take before Major Skri will be released?"

"It should be fine now. In this letter my friend sent me, His Highness ordered all corpsmen on the frontlines to travel to frontline command within three days by carrier eagles. At the same time, a folk of royal guards were mobilised to Pacasia to take charge of security and defence. I believe His Highness is planning a purge."

Chapter 299 - The Dust Has Settled

Many things happened on the frontlines in the following week. As Duriaulo had predicted, Prince Hansbach carried out a purge. He disbanded frontline's strategy department on account of the war's end. He also discharged nearly a third of its noble officers. Along with them went six irregular corps.

According to Duriaulo, though the first prince was impulsive and unfit to be king, he was a brilliant military leader. He summoned the corpsmen for a meeting and relieved the nobles allied to old nobility of their duties.

At the same time, he also replaced the keepers of frontline command with the royal guard. It gave him the brawn he needed to carry out such a purge. Dozens of noble officers were tried in court martial on charges of corruption and such and tens of noble officers were discharged and would never have another chance to further their careers in the kingdom's army.

The initially suppressed peasant officers were given huge promotions and filled the top positions of frontline command. Duriaulo heard from his friend that Prince Hansbach had handed over authority to General Bodenkampf, whom Stellin X had sent over. What would follow were the disbandment and reorganisation of the forces by the general and it wouldn't take more than a few months before everyone could return home.

The other good news was that Skri had been saved by the first prince. In fact, according to new inside news from Duriaulo's friend, Prince Hansbach used the so-called loss of kingdom territory to deal with a bunch of noble officers.

When the first prince took back power initially, the noble officers united and put their signatures on a request to be granted merit for the case files on Skri. However, the first prince backslapped them hard. Not only did he turn back the whole case, he even managed to push responsibility for the crimes they charged Skri with back to the nobles.

The first prince had asked the nobles whether frontline command orchestrated any rescue operation when 1st Ranger Tribe was encircled by the enemy and trapped in the castle. The nobles proudly defended themselves, saying that they sent five carrier eagles to ask about the situation without a single one of them replying.

"And so you stopped caring after that?!" roared the prince with rage before he railed on the officers in the strategy department and the command department for not doing their jobs. Even though contact with the main tribe in the castle was cut off, the band defending the mountain pass did send them a notice about the tribe's encirclement and that they weren't able to provide them with supplies. They had requested frontline command to send reinforcements to bail the tribe out of the situation.

Yet, frontline command did absolutely nothing other than sending their carrier eagles and deciding on their own that the tribe had been wiped out when not one of them returned. They sat there doing nothing as 1st Rangers held their ground for three whole months before withdrawing after running out of food and ammunition, only to be blamed for losing kingdom territory by frontline command!

The prince was completely livid and the table they used for the meeting kept being banged on. Not a single person on the scene managed to come up with a counterargument. It was true that when 1st Ranger Tribe was surrounded, the battles had subsided at the frontlines and the million troops of the kingdom were on orders to be on standby. Frontline command and the strategy department should've delegated some resources to save the tribe or be gathering troops for a counterpush.

Even though crossing the mountain path was a difficult task, sending a line of troops would've been enough to beat the enemy back and saved the tribe. In fact, they could send even more troops to build even more routes through the mountains so that more reinforcements could be sent through. Yet, the nobles of frontline command and the strategy department didn't put the peril of 1st Ranger Tribe on mind and were busy giving the peasant officers a hard time, such as driving General Miselk Kor Priest, the acting commander-in-chief, away.

The first prince tore the case files on Major Skri into little pieces and left only the list of people requesting merit for closing the case. He looked at the document and said, "I will make sure to investigate every one on this list thoroughly and give them what they deserve."

Nearly all the noble officers paled at those words almost immediately.

Though Skri had been released and restored to his former position, he wasn't in good shape from all the interrogation and beatings. He had been sent to the infirmary tribe of frontline command for recovery. At the same time, Captain Heickham of 3rd Clan was sent back to tribe headquarters after his full recovery and took up administrative duties alongside the clansman of 4th Clan, Kurdwak.

Skri got Heickham to bring Claude a letter and said that he was doing well and there was no need to worry. He would be back at tribe headquarters in another half a month and asked Claude to come up with a list of five names for an unspecified purpose. It was worth noting that he also asked Claude to include his own name in it.

Duriaulo saw the request and congratulated Claude that he would be promoted, but the man in question himself didn't know how Duriaulo arrived at that conclusion.

"It's simple," Duriaulo said, "Major Skri asked for a list of five names including yours. That means you are to be transferred to another position and the other four will be your helpers. Nobody else can order them around by you by the time you're transferred to the new unit."

"But isn't the war over already? The troops on the frontlines are about to be disbanded and sent home. Why would there be a new position for me to fill?" Claude found it rather hard to believe.

"Well, I have inside word that--" Duriaulo looked around to make sure nobody was listening. "--the top brass has decided that apart from the four main corps of the kingdom, the kingdom is going to form four more standing corps. Three of them will be stationed in the territory of the three occupied duchies and one will be stationed in the royal capital to be a rapid reaction force. These four standing corps will have all the benefits of the four main corps and be seen on the same level..."

"You mean to say there's a chance I'll be transferred into one of those four standing corps?"

"It's not just possible, it's almost certain. In fact, it won't be just the five on the list. There will be many from the 1st to 4th clans in your tribe that will be transferred there. The top brass intends on transferring elite units to the four standing corps. And Prince Hansbach decided to exclude the noble officers to prevent the old nobility from exerting influence on those corps."

Claude had an epiphany. Aueras had occupied the territories that belonged to Sidins, Rimodra and Askilin and they needed a strong force to suppress local resistance, so that was where the four corps came in. Additionally, the first prince had excluded the noble officers from the four standing corps as a direct result of their recent shenanigans in frontline command to ensure the royal family could have forces they could trust.

Fortunately, the nobles of frontline command didn't have authority to mobilise troops. The first prince wouldn't have that easy a time grasping power back from their hands otherwise. That was a wake-up call for the royal family as well. Had the nobles been able to mobilise troops, the return of the first prince to frontline command might've turned into a tragedy. Being imprisoned by them would be the best case scenario. The worst was he would be used by the nobles as a puppet to cause chaos in the kingdom.

Without a force they could rely on, the noble officers were helpless to do anything. They weren't able to pose any threat to the first prince who suddenly returned and could do naught but yield to the purge. The tables had turned overnight and the transgressions the nobles committed in the newly occupied territories were proof of their misdeeds. Much of the territory the old nobility got their hands on were confiscated. It was no wonder Duriaulo was in such a good mood.

There wasn't much else to discuss. The people Claude trusted most in his clan were Moriad, Dyavid, Myjack and Gum. As for Mazik, even though he did rather well, he didn't come off as particularly trustworthy to Claude. The other tentsmen and bandsmen only obeyed Claude's orders because of his rank. While some of them might be genuinely loyal to him, they didn't make a show of it so Claude could only mentally apologise to them.

Claude wrote Myjack and Gum's names on the list even though they weren't back yet. If it really was as Duriaulo predicted, Myjack and Gum wouldn't be able to continue serving Claude in the other unit if they weren't picked. They were registered as troops of the 1st Ranger Tribe after all and the new unit would assign new ordermen and guards for Claude.

There was something else troubling him apart from the picks for the list, and that was Sheila. The frontlines had returned to normal and the irregular corps were gradually being reorganised and disbanded. The moment Skri returned to tribe headquarters, Claude was confident he would receive an order to leave Squirrel Village soon, so he wanted to leave with his lover. After that, he would take some leave to return to Whitestag with her and marry her with the blessings of his family.

However, Sheila refused his offer as she wasn't willing to leave the witch's forest. She insisted on waiting for her mother's return and wouldn't budge even though Claude offered to take her hand in marriage. She told him that they were magi, not the mundane folk, and there was no need to rely on a societal convention like marriage to maintain their relationship. If it worked out between them, they would stay together, and if not, they could simply part. That was how her mother left her father back then and brought her along to live secludedly in this place.

It was the first time she talked about her father. "Your father's a magus too?" he wondered.

"Yes. He lives in Siklos."

"Siklos? The nation of magi? Did you and your mother come from there as well?"

"Yup. I lived for six years since my birth. My father's one of those hell-bent on avenging their brethren and has nothing on his mind but attacking Freia to reestablish the dominance of the magic civilisation. My mother, being a nature magus, doesn't wish for war. She was worried that war would turn out to be the worst thing to happen to magi and cause them to lose their last bastion of survival and development on the island. They often argued heatedly about this and my mother took me and a few other nature magi to the mainland and live in isolation."

Sitting by Claude's side, she hugged his arm. "Claude, I know you truly love me, but there's no need for us to marry. We magi follow the conventions of nature. There's no need to bind ourselves to each other with family. We need our time to explore the intricacies of this arcane field. Now that I have my mother's precious library back, I regret having spent so much time back then on fooling around. I don't wish to leave this place and there isn't a better place in the outside world for me to study magic freely anyway.

"That's why I won't be leaving with you. I will stay here and continue my studies. Don't worry about me, I'm used to living alone. Blackwind is here to accompany me anyway. You won't have to worry about my safety either, since I have a number of combat spells already. There are also the four muskets you hung up on my wall. I've practised much with them and can shoot fine. Two days back, I even shot a fat turkey dead from a hundred metres away in one try.

"If you miss me, just take some time to visit me here. I'll be staying here for the foreseeable future. If you want to write to me, send it to the village chief. I'll get Blackwind to bring me the letter whenever they want to trade more things for medicinal paste."

Chapter 300 - Family Visit Break

Myjack and Gum returned to Squirrel four days later.

Myjack reported it had taken them 13 days to get to the capital despite their haste. They had found Normanley Manor and met with the baroness during the night. She read the letters he had written to her and the first prince and immediately sprung into action. She'd not told them what she would do, however. She'd just told her butler to show the two to the guest rooms and told them to wait there for news.

Gum made the most of his stay in such a luxurious place and became the manor's pig. He only ate and slept. He didn't even meet with the baroness. Myjack asked for a few books from the manor library and spent most of his time reading. Okay, Gum didn't just pig out, he did help the servants out a couple times, though it was always related to the kitchen somehow.

The baroness summoned them a fortnight later and told them the first prince had returned from the frontline and taken care of things. They could thus return. She also gave them five crowns for their effort. They set for the village the next day.

The trip back wasn't as smooth sailing as the one to the capital. Security kept getting tighter as they moved, even more so than it had been in the capital while they were there. They were stopped at least half a dozen times and told to present their papers. They were always passing one military convoy or another. Those were mostly troops returning from the frontlines, though.

Claude sent them off to their quarters with orders to rest, barely containing his giddiness at the thought that he would soon finally get to leave this place.

An eagle message from Skri arrived three days later. It ordered 1st Clan to return to tribe headquarters. It was time to leave Sheila.

He rushed to the witch's forest that very night.

"This is my address in Whitestag. Here are the names of my mother, sister, and brother. This is a bank account I made for you. It has 200 crowns. If you need money, Just go to the nearest big town and take some out. I told you how, do you still remember? Also, if you write me anything, just hand them to the village chief, I've told him where to send them. He'll also bring you my letters.

"...Sheila... Are you sure you won't come with me?"

The girl, who'd been sitting quietly while he'd gone over everything for the umpteenth time, leapt into his embrace, two streams of tears flowing down her face, but still shook her head resolutely. Claude could only breathe a silent sigh and hug her soft figure tightly.

When they finally separated, Claude returned to the village, packed up, readied his men, gave Duriaulo a bear hug, and marched out of the village.

"If you ever come to the capital, don't forget to visit my manor! There are barrels of wine waiting for you!" the captain shouted as he watched Claude's horse fade into the distance.

Claude waved back at him over his shoulder.

Tribe headquarters was in Rosa -- not far away from the pass. Claude's tent arrived to the three other clans packing up. Skri dashed to him and yanked him off his feet in a giant hug. The major had heard about him almost being accused of treason. The only reason he could possibly have been accused of such a thing was because he'd stepped up for Skri, so he was very grateful.

"Do you have the list?" Skri asked.

"I do," Claude said, removing the paper from his pocket and handing it to the major.

"Myjack and Gum are going, too? But they're just an orderman and a guard..."

"I'm moving to a new unit and they're my most trusted men; of course they're coming with me. Not to mention I can't abandon them after they've served me so loyally."

"New unit?" Skri started, then laughed, "You think I'm shipping you out?"

"Are you not? Captain Duriaulo said I'm certainly going to be moved to one of the new units."

"No. I want a list of men to send to training with you. Here."

Skri handed Claude a black leather folder.

Inside was a report from frontline command. All the tribes under their command were to nominate meritorious officers for a year-and-a-half-long course. 1st Rangers could nominate ten officers. Nothing about it was particularly strange; such courses were quite common in the army, especially after campaigns as promising new officers would have distinguished themselves and been ear-marked for training and future promotion. Claude had not, however, ever heard of 'Kleibon Royal Army College' before.

"Kleibon Royal Army College is brand new," Skri explained, "The kingdom's training four new standing corps, three specifically to occupy the new territory. The fourth will be a kind of... special forces corps focused on rapid response. It's headquarters will be just outside the capital. It's going to be the Ranger corps, and, as you would guess, it'll be almost entirely made up of rangers. Nasri will be providing us with 80 thousand horses towards their reparations over the next three years, and a big portion of them will be the new Ranger corps'."

Claude had not been surprised to hear about the four new corps from Duriaulo, but to hear that they were going to become an entire corps... that was something incredible. Did it have something to do with the new college? If it did, then he didn't understand why they had to attend a course of any length, nevermind a year and a half. They were the kingdom's greatest experts on ranger combat; Claude had quite literally written the textbook on the unit's unorthodox tactics. What could they possibly teach him in that regard, even more so, what could they teach him that would take a year and a half?`

"All the officers for the new corps have to undergo training at the college; sergeant or colonel, there are no exceptions. I should mention that only peasant officers have been accepted so far. I've not heard of a single noble among the warrant officers nominated being accepted, at least," Skri added.

Ah, so the king was trying to build a force which had no divided loyalties between the royal family and their own. And the new college was as much to offer them a prejudice-free education as to train them without any nobles to steel their loyalty.

"Prince Hansbach is the college's first dean. His Highness' most trusted subordinates will also be the senior lecturers. Miselk Kor Priest, the general, will be the senior chief lecturer. The first prince will only really be the ceremonial dean, as you would expect, so the general will also be the executive head of the college. He retired from Bluefeather after its destruction, so he's completely free. I heard they tried to peg him for the same position with the reformed corps, but he turned them down. He said his time for war is over and he would be of much better use to the kingdom as an instructor, training its future military leaders."

The general was a wise man, Claude thought. The war was over, so his chances of getting another promotion, or any other position again was practically nil. If he wanted to make a change, now was his only chance. Even if another war broke out in the next decade or so before he retired from the army entirely, he was getting on in years. He no longer had the mental fortitude and stamina to lead a corps in field, not for the long timeframes army campaigns usually lasted. And being Bluefeather's corpsman would be especially tiring. It was rare for entire new standing corps to be brought into being -- while Bluefeather was technically an already-existing corps, nearly all of its staff would be new, replacing the dead or infirm, so it might as well be a brand new corps -- so vultures from both the noble and commoner faction would be scrambling to get as much influence in it as possible. Being a lecturer certainly had its own challenges, but they were much more manageable for someone of his age

"Oh, that reminds me. You've nearly served five years right? Just two more months, if I remember correctly?" Skri asked.

Claude nodded. He had enlisted in Bluefeather when he was 18, completing his training and being officially commissioned in the 9th month. It was now the 7th month, and he was 23. In another two months he'd have served a full five years.

"You'd normally be allowed three months of leave every three years, but war tends to royally screw the leave schedule. Actually, I swear HR burns the registers and schedule the moment word of a war arrives... Anyway, the war's over, so leave is back on the table. You'd usually only be able to take your leave every third year, but since your three year cycle is overdue, I can give you five months for your five years. You can take it now and head home from here, or come with us to the capital first and take it from there. You'll only get three months if you come with us to the capital, though."

Something didn't sound right.

"Sorry, you said I can take my leave now?"

Skri nodded with a smile.

"B-but... Why five if I take it now, but only three if I go to the capital first?"

Skri burst out laughing.

"We have two months to get to the capital. We've been moved into Ranger corps and will be reorganised in the capital. If you don't want to go home immediately, you can come with us to the capital, but you'll have to stay until the reorganisation is complete before I can give you leave. I can't change the date the course at the college starts, so you'll only get the three months left at that point."

So it wasn't really a case of his cycle being overdue, it was Skri bamboozling the system to give him a couple extra months. He'd be doing nothing but marching, and then sitting in an office in some barracks outside the capital for the two months, so he might as well leave now and go straight home.

"Thank you, Sir!" Claude said as he saluted energetically.

"Your clan will be the first to cycle into their leave. Go get a hundred names for the first round. They have to file a request for leave, including an itinerary, and get a writ of permission from you. They can collect their salary and passports from the general staff once they've filed their request."

Claude nodded, gave another quick salute, and made for the door. Skri yelped him to a halt just as he reached the door, however.

"Speaking of leave, itineraries, and deadlines, you have to report for duty again by the 15th of the 1st month at Kleibon War College next year."

"Don't I need to report to tribe headquarters first?"

"No. I'll hand in all your and the other four's files, so just go straight to the college. You'll be back in 1st Rangers when your training's over, though I haven't the faintest clue what our name will be by then."

As much as Claude liked to be part of '1st Rangers', he knew the likelihood they would still be the 1st Ranger Tribe in the new corps was very low. They might have been the 1st Rangers, and they'd always be the true 1st Rangers, but the bureaucracy rarely cared much for sentiment.

Claude lifted Skri off his feet and swung him around a few times in a violent bear hug.

"Thank you again, Sir!" he said with yet another salute after he'd put him down like he'd not just broken almost every military rank protocol in almost all the guidebooks of every army on the continent.

It was currently the 25th of the 7th month. His leave was until the 15th of the 1st month, which gave him five months and an additional 20 days.

He returned to his barracks and called for Dyavid, Moriad, Myjack, and Gum. Once all four were lined up in his tent all properly like, he gave them the news.

Myjack and Gum didn't really care for the training. They only cared about sticking to Claude like flies on shit. The break even troubled them. They were orphans, after all, and had nowhere to go. They'd both just been drifting until they were drafted, Myjack hadn't even been sixteen, and Gum was just happy enough to be able to fill his stomach for once.

They'd struck platinum with Claude. He'd practically fashioned careers in the army for them out of nothing. They'd gone from near drop-outs only kept around to fill the ranks and march to their deaths to veterans and elites in the most modern of combat tactics. They'd both gone from grunts to a master-sergeant, in Myjack's case, and a corporal, in Gum's. And the only reason Gum was just a corporal was because he couldn't read. He'd be a master-sergeant as well if he could. Claude and Myjack had taken up teaching him how to read lately for that very reason.

It wasn't right to call the army their home, Claude was their home. If he left on break, they would be anchorless dingeys left to drift at sea, at the mercy of the currents. Their entire lives revolved around their captain; Myjack was his orderman and Gum his personal bodyguard.

"Why don't you take the two home with you? They don't have anywhere to go to, anyway," Moriad suggested.

It was settled there and then, almost without Claude's input. The two would accompany him back home. Moriad and Dyavid did not take leave, they were going back to the capital. They'd been all but disowned by their families, and they relished the chance to go back and rub their successes in the bastards' faces.

The one hundred spots could only accommodate a third of 1st Clan. The men nearly rioted when they heard it. Beside Claude and some of the other ranking officers, the other spots were filled by the drawing of lots. Mazik was amongst the ranking officers.

He had practically begged Claude to give him a spot before he'd heard about senior officers being guaranteed spots in the first round. He wanted to go home and propose to middle school sweetheart. She had been married before, but her husband had died in the early months of the war. He had not heard from her for several years, however, and didn't know if she'd since remarried.

It took Claude two days to calm the men and sort out all the paperwork for those who'd won spots. He left after handing over command to Moriad and Dyavid and thanking Skri again.

Chapter 301 - Efenasburg's Black Market

This time, Claude didn't use the temporary pass through Pikleit Mountains to go to Efenasburg. He, instead, travelled along Rimodra's main road. If he had gone home by sea he could have saved an additional couple days, but the port cities in Askilin and Rimodra lay in ruins.

The war was over, but the two dutchies' navies hadn't accepted the peace and returned home. They'd instead either become pirates or pledged themselves to Canas. While this meant Aueras' navy was the only cohesive force in the region, its ships had been badly battered in the many battles, and its crews were exhausted. It would take months for the crews to be cycled through leave and recuperate, and years for the ships to rotate through drydock for repairs. The pirate bands would thus go unopposed for the foreseeable future, and the ocean, the coast, and any islands in the region were impossibly dangerous.

The little band thus had no choice but to travel on land. No one would come out well at the other end of an engagement with pirates, but three Aueran soldiers, one of whom being a commissioned officer, would fare even worse. Claude was not strapped for funds, however, so he purchased three fit horses and the three set off at a brisk pace.

Claude had hoped to take his Canasian war horse, but while it was his property within the military, it was still ultimately military property. He could not use it when he was on leave. It would have been a different matter if he were a major. Majors and above were entitled to fully private spoils from the war, even items that would normally only nominally be theirs, such as war horses, could be truly theirs, if they were willing to purchase the full rights.

The roads were full for days. Tens of thousands of men were marching away from the front. Men split off at every junction as various units returned to their disparate headquarters. Despite the evident exhaustion and war weariness on their faces, the men were in general high spirits. Dozens of different folk songs in any number of accents and dialects could be heard jostling for dominance among the men. Particularly popular were the songs of various male conquests in the bedroom, and in various other rooms in the house, and on various items of furniture.

One song silenced every other one at one point, however. It wasn't a particularly happy song, nor was it sad per se. The song was about a lone, tired soldier marching home at the end of a nondescript war. He sang about his trials and tribulations, but mostly, the song was about everything he missed from home. About his little brother and sister who used to play in the backyard of his small townhouse. He wondered if they'd grown up well because he'd been away from home for so long. It was about his mother, always cooking, washing, or cleaning. He wondered if she'd turned grey in the years he'd been gone, about what food she would prepare for him once he got home. How he longed for her to hold him as she had when he was a little boy. It was about his father, how he'd always been so hard working, distant from, though not cold to, his children. He reminisced on the warm pride and serious worry in his father's eyes when he'd bid him goodbye on the docks. It was about his sweetheart. He sang a short verse about her beauty, how he'd explored it all that final, sweet evening before his departure. But more he sang about how he wondered if she would still be waiting for him after all this time, and how he longed to hold her in his arms again.

The song reverberated like thunder up and down the column of men. Dozens broke into silent tears as they walked, overs sniffed secretly. A couple openly wiped the tears from their eyes. The men were proud of what they'd accomplished, but more than anything, they were tired. Tired of fighting, and tired of dying. They wanted to go home, to hug their children, kiss their wives, and eat with their parents. There was much glory to be had in war, but there was far more sorry that had to be paid, and these men had paid their share twice over and twice again.

Claude had wanted to buy Rimodran specialties for home, but there were none to be found. The towns were either entirely abandoned, or the people were too busy struggling to find enough food to feed themselves to worry about making trinkets and delicacies for their conquerors.

He couldn't even find a single open tavern. He asked Myjack how they'd fed themselves at one point, and the boy told him they'd had to eat bread and drink water. They only had warm food when they stopped over at military camps, for which they had to pay. The current sorry state only continued back to the old border, however. The entire war had been fought on enemy territory, so the old territories were still wholly intact.

Claude's little band carried themselves with the gate of soldiers, so everyone knew what they were, but they wore civilian clothing, which made what they were doing equally obvious. The men stared envious daggers at them as they passed. When they stopped for a quick lunch on the last Rimodran leg of their trip, a couple officers from the local irregular corps told them they had to stop in Efenasburg. It had developed the kingdom's largest black market. Claude wasn't against the idea, since he had yet to find something valuable to take home.

The most senior of the irregulars, a captain, told him that he'd gone to the market the last time he'd been in the city. He'd seen stuff on the stall shelves he'd never seen before. He'd been unable to figure out what a couple even were. One of the peddlers told him he was selling wares pilfered from the houses of a couple nobles further north. He'd bought most of them from soldiers who'd smuggled them back from the front lines. One of the items was a beautiful vase with intricate gold and silver lacing. He recognised the name engraved on it as the famous gold and silverware craftsman Evanson. He so wished he had the money for it. He was certain he could convince several of his hometown's most beautiful girls to marry him just to be able to say they lived in the house with that vase. He didn't, however, so he could only watch as a fat noblewoman bought it for a seventh of its true worth.

Efensaburg was Sidins' old capital. It was no longer a capital, but it did at least still serve as the headquarters of the portion of the army under Prince Hansbach's command. It was also still serving as the main supply centre for most of the forces in the west. As the duchy's capital, it had been the most prosperous city in the duchy, but now, it had been reduced to a large way station for withdrawing troops.

Many of the soldiers chose to sell their smuggled spoils there. Coins were far more practical, and far less suspicious, than various objects. Men who'd failed to bag something themselves bought them in turn with which to brag at home. Technically the spoils belonged to the royal family, so their sale and purchase was illegal, hence it being a black market. Everyone knew controlling the many thousands of men trying to buy and sell, and the many hundreds of merchants looking to make their fortunes in the back alleys and ruins in the city was impossible, so the army settled for collecting a little side charge to leave the merchants alone.

The setup intrigued Claude quite a bit. He'd not gotten much in the way of spoils during the war. The only real thing he'd gotten was a set of cutlery and crockery. He'd taken it from one of the noble manors around Count Krilaus' castle, but he'd left it behind with Sheila. He had also gotten a beautiful ceremonial sword after one of the battles around Squirrel, but Sheila had claimed it immediately. The only other things were six bottles of rare vintage wine he'd also taken from that manor. They were already spoken for by various people back home.

He had nothing to keep for himself as proof of his exploits, so he supposed now was as good a time as any to buy himself something, hopefully something unusual, or something that would fit well into one of his many war stories.

He thanked the captain and saw him off. Myjack and Gum decided to accompany him. They'd not gone by Efenasburg last time since it was out of the way to the capital, so they were also curious to see what it had become. It would also be a good chance for Claude to visit Borkal.

The three set off again after finishing their lunch, and saw Efenasburg's lights on the horizon just as the last rays of sun were fading into night. They asked around near the gate and settled on a high-class inn near the old commercial quarter. Claude treated them to a grand feast of a dinner, then turned in for the night after a thorough scrubbing in the bath.

Claude was awoken by the clatter of wares and the shouted chants of various merchants leaking in through his room's window which overlooked the large avenue in front of the inn. The street, all but deserted when they'd arrived the previous evening, was beyond crowded. The avenue, one of the largest in the city, could handle six carriages abreast one another, but there was hardly space to sneeze at the moment.

The moon hadn't even climbed a third of the way up into the sky, but some people were already drinking. Myjack and Gum were already up and were having breakfast downstairs. Claude joined them just as the inn's proprietor was explaining that the streets usually looked like that.

The three finished breakfast and Myjack and Claude read a couple newspapers. Gum pretended to read, but he mostly just mouthed the letters he recognised, which weren't many. After they finished the three headed to the logistics headquarters and asked around for Borkal. Claude had met up with Welikro during the award ceremony the year before and he'd mentioned that he'd run into Borkal in Efenasbrug. Two years had passed since then, and there was no telling if he was still there.

The three headed to the office on foot rather than on horseback. The street was too crowded for horses. The proprietor had told them it would be a bad idea. He'd seen a lieutenant-colonel forced to pay almost all his savings for the things his horse broke when it turned and pushed over a stall's shelves.

None of the staff knew where there Banjilia keepers were. They'd been moved long before any of the current staff started their stint in the city.

The local keepers sent to the frontlines were used mainly as garrison forces. Their old names were thus often replaced with just a code. It was done to keep them safe from reprisals from old enemies when they were moved to new locations since they were often used to quell civilian uprisings.

A serial murderer had struck in a particular city several hundred years earlier. He killed off everyone in more than ten households. The investigation revealed that they were all the families of a particular keeper unit's men. The unit had put down an uprising in a newly occupied territory most cruelly a couple years earlier.

One of the children orphaned by their actions took matters into his own hands and started killing their families. He'd made friends with many of the then-retired soldiers while he'd found out everything he could about them. He'd struck started his killing spree on the 25th anniversary of the massacre they'd conducted on his hometown.

The kingdom was so shocked. When he was finally caught and put on trial, he said he didn't feel a single morsel of remorse over his actions. He only regretted that he couldn't kill more, or inflict more pain on the bastards who'd massacred his entire town, and made him watch as they first raped, then tortured, and finally killed his entire family.

The kingdom responded by giving their keepers numbers when they were moved into troubled areas so they could remain anonymous and wouldn't face similar retribution for their cruelty. Duriaulo's tribe, for example, was the Leist Keepery, but when they were moved to the newly occupied territory, they were given the designation KT0378, Keeper Tribe 378.

No one knew what code Banjilia Keepery had been given.

Thus unable to track down his old friend, he could only pray for him as he returned to the central plaza.

That night, Claude met a number of officers from irregular corps there to buy some spoils from the black market just like him. The officers had complained that the goods' prices rose by a third, possibly due to the sudden influx of traffic thanks to the mass retreat of the forces. The merchants wouldn't miss the chance to overcharge the masses of soldiers during this rare event.

What was worse was the increasing number of counterfeit products in the black market. Many items alleged to have come from noble families were actually forgeries. The merchants would try their best to fabricate an interesting and moving story to market their products as genuine and earn their customers' confidence.

One officer said that he saw more than fifty obsidian smoke pipes there. All the hawkers said that theirs was the one used by Duke Sidins himself and the officer could recite seven different accounts of how the pipe made its way into said hawker's hand, each one unique and plausible.

Claude recalled that someone tried to sell him one such pipe, but he wasn't interested in the slightest. If his father was still alive, he might've considered buying one. Now, he could only get gifts for his mother and siblings.

Claude spent two days shopping in the black market and bought quite a lot, all worth more than five hundred crowns in total. Myjack had to remind him to stop, or they would have too much luggage to travel. The goods we all stuffed in the carriage before they resumed their journey.

Chapter 302 - Bandits

The trio spent the night in Eimis before heading for the Audin Mountain Range. It took them a day and another night to cross it, but the journey was uneventful. They arrived in Gourneygada the following evening.

The sight of the city took Claude back five years to the day he'd enlisted in this very city, then to a couple months later, his training complete, when he marched off to war. He'd been a part of Bluefeather then, but now he was part of 1st Rangers, soon to be part of the Ranger corps, and Bluefeather had been all but annihilated. If not for him being abandoned in Eimis as part of the keepery, he would most likely have shared the fate of so many of the people he'd known back then. He had been abandoned, however, and it had done more for him than just save his life. It'd put him in the perfect place to meet the first prince, a meeting which was now so pivotal in his career he almost felt dizzy when he thought about it. Following it he was eventually moved into the 1st Ranger Tribe, where he'd won all his accolades, promotions, and his knighthood. Nobody, not even he himself, had imagined any of those coming his way.

The trio rested in the city for two days. Uneventful as their mountain crossing had been, it was equally tiring. Troublesome was another thing it had been. The general recall of forces from the former frontlines saw every metre of road, from main thoroughfare to tiny mountain path, packed. Everyone was going somewhere and each person was just as eager as the last to get there. Which also made them equally unwilling to stand aside to let the other pass. Claude's trio had to step aside on the pass on several occasions to let larger convoys, mainly the new keepery forces and various other relief forces moving to the front to occupy the territory the standard forces were leaving behind, pass and it had held them up for several hours.

Bluefeather may only have played a minor overall role in his career in the end, but it was still his first step down the military road, so he felt at least some nostalgia for it. Not to mention it would be nice to be surprised by a couple faces that he hoped had survived the corps' decimation. He'd heard that whatever was left of the corps had limped back to Kafreizit and had practically sealed themselves in the headquarters while they worked to rebuild the force to its former glory.

Claude had asked Duriaulo about his old unit -- Bluefeather's 1st Folk, 1st Line, 11th Tribe -- as well as 2nd Rangers. 2nd Rangers had suffered about as much as Bluefeather, but Berklin was among the survivors. The little fox had had an escape route prepared and ready and didn't hesitate to take it the moment the situation became untenable. The tribe overall had few left, but most of them were from his, largely unharmed, band.

As for Claude's old unit in the corps, not one man in the combat section had survived. The combat portion of the tribe had fought to the last man during the rearguard action to hold down the Canasian light cavalry while the rest of what was left of the corps tried to escape. The medical portion of the tribe hadn't been near the frontline, however, and they'd made it out largely unscathed. Doctor Perunt was among the survivors. The apothecary had bumped into Berklin on the way back and the latter had carefully shepherded him to safety.

Claude wanted to visit the apothecary. The man had taken a fair amount of care of him during his stints in his infirmary. He had also travelled halfway across the theatre to treat him after Wilf.

He couldn't find him, however. He did run into Second Lieutenant Most, at least; though he supposed he should call him First Lieutenant now. Neither had expected to run into the other, and it took most several long moments to notice the rank on Claude's epaulette, and another dozen or so after his hasty salute to notice the order of merit pinned on his chest.

The two chatted away most of the afternoon in the corps' favourite tavern.

Most had survived the corps' destruction because he was far behind the frontlines in a field hospital after getting himself shot several weeks earlier. He was discharged from the hospital two weeks after the corps' demise, and was told to head back to headquarters 'somehow'. The corps' severe lack of experienced personnel led to his promotion despite a dearth of merits -- something the brass quickly remedied by awarding him a series of merits for his injury and subsequent survival of the battle -- and he was tasked with training and commanding the new 11th Tribe.

The conversation eventually turned to Perunt, but Most informed Claude that the apothecary was no longer with the corps. He and all the rest of the corps' medical personnel were transferred to whatever units they happened to be at. Medical personnel were always in short supply, and higher command saw no point in letting them sit by idly for however long Bluefeather needed to refill its ranks. The unit would not need them, not as much as the frontline, while it was busy getting itself back in order, so they might as well be put to use elsewhere. The last he'd heard of the apothecary he'd been in the hospital that had handled most of Bluefeather's retreating wounded. He didn't know what happened to him after that, but he suspected he'd been sent to a string of different facilities so he could be just about anywhere in the theatre, and, given the war was now over, he might just be on the other side of the kingdom.

Claude was disappointed, but he didn't let it keep him down. The conversation continued lively for another hour before Claude bid the first lieutenant adieu and returned to his inn. The trio set out again the next morning.

A week later in the prefecture of Ambruiz...

"There's the town of Blackwood. We'll rest there for the night and set out again tomorrow morning. We have just another day of travel left. We should arrive in Whitestag by nightfall. It'll be good to be home," Claude said to Myjack.

"Are the two of us not intruding, Sir?" Myjack asked, "Are you certain you have room for us?"

He and Claude were riding their horses out front while Gum brought up the rear with a wagon filled with the faux war trophies Claude had bought in Efenasburg.

"No worries!" Claude said laughingly, "You've been with me for years now. You're practically my brothers! The family will be only too happy to play host to you two. And don't worry about space. The one thing of which we have a surplus is space. I bought a three-storey building for the family before I left. The rent from that alone is dozens of crowns a year. We have space for you somewhere. If not, we'll just build some!"

Blackwood came up not long after. The guards were surprisingly strict. The trio had not had to go through such a thorough check yet, however. He supposed that was to be expected. The lands closer to the frontlines had been stripped of their keeperies and the security details had been filled with retired veterans, most of whom just wanted calm days, so they just avoided trouble. Blackwood still had some of its original keepery, however. They didn't have any trouble getting into the town, however.

Claude stopped at the inn at which he and Oask had lodged the last time he'd been in town and asked for a guest room and storeroom. Myjack and Gum took turns guarding the carriage; they had to be cautious since the carriage had more than 500 crowns' worth of goods.

A couple of Blackwood's keepers stopped by during dinner. Their leader was a man in his fifties and had a nearly bald head. His apparent second-in-command was a second lieutenant. Despite his age, the old man's salute was crisp and natural. Claude supposed he was probably an army veteran.

"Respectful greetings, Sir Claude," the second lieutenant said after he checked their identification and passports yet again, "Do you mind if we ask if you're heading for Whitestag?"

"Yes. I'm on leave for a couple months, so I'm going back to visit my family. It's been five years since I've seen any of them."

The second lieutenant hesitated for a moment.

"If you would forgive my rudeness, Sir Claude, I would suggest you remain here for a couple of days. It would be safer to travel in a larger group and one is currently amassing to travel to Whitestag."

"Huh? Is the path to Whitestag still unsafe? Have you not dealt with the wolves yet?"

"It's not wolves. We took care of that five years ago, I was part of the hunting party myself. One problem's solution only makes space for another problem, unfortunately. A sizeable gang of bandits took over where the wolves left off not long after we'd dealt with them. Their leader is someone called One-eyed Lambak. I heard he escaped from a labour camp near Whitestag. He's gathered about forty people and they've been terrorising anyone who travels along the path to the city. They don't have any weaponry, not that we've heard of, but they are a large enough band to take on small groups. If you three travel alone, they will go after you."

"So they don't have the guts to go after larger groups, eh?" Myjack asked, "Have you not tried to chase them off?"

The old man shook his head.

"We still have some of our original men, which is why we can keep up reasonable security here -- and the bandits are why we have to -- but we don't have the manpower to do any more than hold down the fort in the down until the rest of the keepery returns.

"Luckily they don't seem to have the metal to come after the town. They've kept their activities to the hills between here and Whitestag. Even if we did have the strength to deal with them, they're not operating within our area. We have no authority where they are since that's Whitestag's territory, so they are the ones that have to deal with them.

"I've not heard of them even trying an attack on a group larger than them, especially not if they're armed. On top of that, since most of them are escaped criminals, they all have bounties on their heads. Even the cheapest one is 5 crowns.

"Because of that, a lot of the merchants want to hunt them down and turn in their belongings for the bounties. They had sixty men when they were at their peak, but a heist a year ago went very south, and now they've been reduced by a third.

"The convoy later sent the corpses to Whitestag and claimed 200 crowns in bounties, which shocked the city. The bandits haven't attacked larger convoys since. They've instead kept to Whitestag's outskirts. The city has sent keepers to hunt them down, but it has been almost entirely futile. They've been unable to track them in the hills, even less so when they pull back to Blackforest."

The bandits sounded a little too pathetic. Usually, a large merchant convoy consisted of around 200 people and 50-odd carriages, with only 40-odd guards. The 60 bandits that weren't able to take on those numbers and even lost 20 of their own didn't sound like much of a threat.

"What weapons are those bandits armed with?" Claude asked.

"I'm not too sure. I did hear some merchants who encountered them say that they're mostly armed with arbalests and bows, mostly self-made ones. They should have a musket or two which they plundered from the farms, so they should be of really old make. As for the rest, they use simple bladed weapons like knives, axes and spears," said the second lieutenant.

"How many others want to head to Whitestag now?" Claude asked.

"It's too bad that you came a tad too late. A group just left for Whitestag this morning. Now, only the three of you are on the list. But if you wait for four to five more days, a group above 50 people can easily be formed."

Claude shook his head. "There's no need. I won't be waiting for people to gather here and will be departing tomorrow. As soldiers of the kingdom, we don't fear these bandits, and we're armed with muskets. I couldn't be happier if they choose to attack us. Maybe we can even earn some extra cash from their bounties."

"Sir Claude, I hope you will reconsider." The old keeper tried to talk him out of it, but soon saluted and left after seeing how steadfast the three of them were.

Morning the next day, Claude and the rest left against the persistent advice of the Blackwood keepers for Blackforest.

Before he left, he told the concerned second lieutenant that in the event they couldn't beat them, they could just ditch their carriage and turn back. Though, he was confident he would make the bandits pay a huge price before it came to that.

The carriage was pulled by two workhorses and Myjack and Gum were in the driver's seat with their own muskets at their side. The two race horses were tied to the rear of the carriage and if there was a need, Myjack and Gum could abandon the carriage to escape on the race horses.

As for Claude, he was riding on his own race horse alone with two muskets sheathed in his saddle. One was an Aubass Mark 3 and the other was a shotgun he bought from the black market in Efenasburg. The shotgun was said to be looted from a noble family and sold into the market. It was custom made and could kill wild boars within a range of 20 metres. Apart from its short firing range, the other weakness it had was its high recoil, though that wasn't a huge issue for Claude.

The reason he bought the shotgun wasn't the intricate golden markings on its stock. Instead, it was the name engraved on it: Liboyd Milowski. This was the famed firearms craftsman and father of Claude's first lover in this world, Baroness Sonia Lou Vaskiri.

The shotgun was personally crafted by Sonia's father and Claude bought it without a second thought. It would serve as a good reminder of the baroness and he didn't think he would be able to put it to good use.

Chapter 303 - Bandit Encounter

The trio stopped at the base of the first hill just before noon -- right on the border between Blackforest and the mountains' foothills. They stood on the banks of a small river, a congregation of tiny streams that had come down from the mountains and been pushed together by the hills.

They'd been on the road for about six hours, quite a bit faster than they'd expected. They'd also, so far, not run into any bandits or other mishaps.

"Alright, let's rest for a little while. The horses need feeding and a drink, and I think we could do with both as well. If we don't run into anything along the rest of the way, we should walk into the city a couple hours before sunset. That said, I expect the bandits are lying in wait somewhere in the hills. I don't think they'll have let us go if we'd passed them already."

Myjack was seated in the carriage's driver's seat. He scanned the hill up ahead with his monocular. Gum was leading the two horses to the river for a drink.

"I see nothing up ahead, Sir," Myjack reported after a couple more passes.

"If your eyes haven't found anything, then there isn't anything. Rest for now as well," Claude said, squatting by the water to wash his hands, "We'll check again before we get going."

"Jack, fetch me the bag from the carriage," Gum said.

"Roger," Myjack said out of habit.

He hopped off and drudged a big bag of feed up out of the carriage. The knot around the mouth came undone with a fair amount of effort, and he removed five small linen bags. The rest of the big bag was full of a mixture of crushed straw, wheat, and black beans. Myjack filled the five sacks, and tied them over the heads of the horses that had already had a drink.

Gum took down one horse's luggage and handed it to Claude before helping Myjack with the rest of the sacks.

Claude looked for a flat rock, opened the bag Gum had handed him, and got to work on their lunch.

The Doghunt Tavern, where they'd stayed the previous night, had a famous delicacy: roasted stuffed rabbits. They were stuffed with fresh mushrooms and various other vegetables. Claude had bought a couple for their travels. They'd been mouthwatering when they'd had them for dinner the previous evening, but, though they weren't bad, they didn't taste as good cold. Even two bites in, Claude had yet to taste anything. He decided to instead make sweet meat sandwiches with the bread they had left

Myjack decided to forego the sandwich, sating his hunger with just a single leg. Gum had the other three rabbits. They had beer but they decided against having any as they expected to run into the bandits at some point that afternoon. They thus settled on water instead.

The break lasted about an hour, then they were on the road again. Claude rode alongside the carriage while Myjack rode in front.

They crossed the foothills without any trouble, and eventually came up to the foot of the mountain. The road narrowed to just barely wide enough for the carriage and started climbing up the slope, winding back and forth in lazy curves which became progressively tighter as it got higher. About halfway up the mountain all animal sounds had died away. Only the crack of pebbles under the carriage's iron-covered wheels and the horse's hooves, and the occasional neigh or fart from one could be heard.

"Ahead, Sir," Myjack said about an hour in.

Gum stopped the carriage and Claude stopped his mount. He turned around and got the monocular from Myjack, following his finger with it as he brought the view piece to his eye.

The path up ahead dropped down into a ravine, then zig-zagged back up the other slope before beginning the long descent to the flatlands which led to Whitestag. The slope was too steep for the carriage to anywhere but the narrow path, and each turn would take minutes to make as the carriage could just barely make them.

On the far slope, about halfway up, next to one of the turns, stood a tree. It looks quite out of place, with its withering leaves. Claude focused on it for several long seconds, until his eyes could make out the ropes tied around it in surreptitious places.

He wandered the slope several more times with the monocular. He could understand why the bandits would give up hunting in the foothills on Whitestag's side of the mountain. This was the perfect place to ambush passers-by. Once the tree fell across the path, there was no way forward, and it would take only a couple people to block the path down which the poor victims had come, trapping them in the ravine. It could also just as easily stop any keepers.

"How many?" Claude asked in a whisper, his gaze still wandering the opposite slope.

"Four. The slope is too densely covered, so I can't make out too much, but there will be at least as many again on this side," Myjack answered in the same whisper.

Claude nodded. Few people in the entire tribe had eyes as good as Myjack, and equally few knew as much about ambushes, or had as much experience. The number that had both, was just about zero. Gum was a beast of a man, a match for his appetite, and Myjack, although quite tiny, was deadly in a fight. Claude would not change these two for anyone else against an ambush. Between the three of them, they had far more experience in ambushes than the bandits, and certainly far better techniques for dealing with them.

They could easily see through the flaws in the bandits' camouflage. They didn't even know about reflection and didn't bother to conceal their metal weapons from the sun. The way the tree was positioned on the far slope was also obviously unnatural. Any sharp-eyed person would see through it in an instant. No merchant convoy would allow there to still be trees on the path they travelled through to pose threats to their convoys. Surely, they had felled all of them long ago.

The only thing bothering Claude was how there were only a few people hiding ahead. But when he thought about the terrain and his position, it became obvious that the bandits either split into two or were planning to attack them from three sides to stop them from escaping. It was too bad splitting up wouldn't do much against Claude and the other two. They didn't know how much difference distance made.

"Let's go down and not let them wait too long. Also, deal with the enemies on the slope first before using our carriage to block the other bandits coming from our rear. Understood?"

"Gya!" Gum whipped the reins and the carriage sped along the mountain path. Claude followed behind the carriage on his mount. They travelled down 300 metres of the slope. The level part of the path was roughly a hundred metres long and many convoys would let their horses rest there before making the climb.

However, Gum was intent on having the two workhorses run past the level ground directly up the slope ahead, much to the surprise of the bandits. They didn't care about exposing themselves anymore and jumped out of their shrubs while calling out loudly for the tree to be lowered.

Eventually, the large tree at the turn up ahead was finally felled. It blocked the path some fifty metres ahead of the carriage. Seeing the carriage stop, the six bandits waved their weapons about excitedly as they charged down the slope as they cried, "Robbery! Surrender and you might be spared!"

But what they got in response was a gunshot. Claude had dismounted and raised his gun to shoot an arbalest-carrying fellow. He handed his gun to Myjack for him to reload and received another gun to aim at a bow-wielding bandit.

Four gunshots rang out and four bandits collapsed on the slope. The last two managed to close the distance between them and the carriage to around ten metres, armed with nothing but short blades and spears, but they also gradually slowed. Claude was calmly receiving a reloaded gun from Myjack. With their four comrades dead on the ground, the two remaining ones didn't know whether they should charge in for a melee.

Without giving them time to think, Gum launched two javelins from his hand and the two remaining bandits seemed to be struck by lightning. They touched the javelin that pierced through their chests as blood came out of their noses while they slumped to the ground.

At that moment, more than ten bandits appeared at the rear where Claude stopped the carriage. Another ten or so came out of the shrubs on the level part of the slope. However, the bandits on the other side of the slope were four hundred metres away from Claude and those at the level part had to run up 200 metres before being able to reach his position.

That was something the bandits hadn't expected would happen. Usually, it was all too easy for them to ambush passing merchants. The two slopes slanted towards each other and most people would just give up when the bandits popped up from both ends. Only by giving up their goods would they be spared.

Yet, a fiasco had occurred. None of them expected the carriage and other horses to charge towards the upwards slope without stopping. While the tree was there to block the way, not a single one of the six at the upward slope survived the onslaught of their three prey.

But that didn't matter much. The bandits still had more than ten times the number of their targets. A one-eyed, eyepatch-wearing bandit waved his obsolete musket about and pointed at Claude and the other two. "Charge! Kill them! Avenge Hemmu and the others!"

By then, all three muskets had been reloaded and leaned against the carriage. Myjack looked at the ten plus bandits charging their way and clicked his tongue. "Why aren't they mounted?"

It didn't take long for him to figure it out and answer his own question, though. "Oh, they can't hide their horses for the ambush. Then again, maybe they ate all the horses they managed to obtain."

It was rather plausible for the near forty men in the wilderness to eat the horses after running out of food. They might even eat the remains of their comrades.

Gum cried, "Jack, bring the two horses behind the carriage here. Let me try to move the tree out of the way."

By the time Myjack did so, the ten-odd bandits were only about 100 metres away.

"They run slow," Myjack said contemptuously, "Are they not properly fed?"

"It's always possible," Claude said, "Look at their footsteps. They seem rather unbalanced and uneven like they lack the energy to support their own weight. I believe they lack salt and weren't able to steal any. You should shoot too later. Get the ones on the left and leave those on the right to me. By the time they reach us, we'll have reloaded three times."

Claude's prediction turned out to be correct. It didn't take three volleys for them to drive the bandits away. After five shots were loosed, the surviving six turned tail and ran back down the slope, only to run into the other group of ten plus rushing up.

But by then, the bandits no longer dared to go up the slope. They had lost eleven of their own and only around twenty of them were left. But as they felt too bad about letting Claude and the rest go, the six that ran back became their scapegoats for them to vent their frustrations.

Gum managed to move the tree aside, but it still bothered him, so he cut the rope and kicked the log down the slope. When he made it back with the two horses, he saw that the enemy hadn't begun their charge anew. "Sir, why don't we leave now? Let's ignore those cowards."

The moment he spoke, Myjack pointed to the bandit down the slope. "Sir, look at that eyepatch-wearing bandit. Isn't he their leader? One-eyed Lambak or something. The second lieutenant back in Blackwood said his bounty was 80 crowns..."

Claude got on his horse and said, "Let's go and lure them over. Begin shooting when they're 100 metres away. If they press on, we'll retreat a little backwards."

The three of them rode down the slope and began firing on horseback when they were a hundred metres away. Three bandits were struck and collapsed and the rest, along with their leader, roared as they charged up the slope.

By the time Claude and the rest retreated to the carriage and reloaded, the enemies down the slope were still more than 100 metres away.

The three guns were all handed to Claude to shoot. After the first two shots struck two more bandits, the others began to run backwards. The one-eyed bandit and another fired their old muskets at Claude, but the bullets were all nowhere to be seen. It didn't take long before they turned to run as well.

"Gum, ride on and don't let the gun-wielding ones go." Claude got on his mount again and rode down the slope with Gum following behind with a few javelins.

When they were some sixty metres away, Claude stopped his mount, calmed down and aimed for the one-eyed bandit. Gum rode past him in a whoosh.

Bang! The bandit with the eyepatch collapsed with his hand clutching the hole in his chest. The other beside him cried.

"The leader was shot dead!"

Gum approached the escaping bandits closer and closer and sent his javelins flying. Some four to five of them were pierced through, including the other bandit armed with the musket.

"No, the second-in-command is dead too!"

The rest of the bandits gathered together, and one cried, "Don't run! They're almost on to us! We have to fight them or not one of us will survive!"

Claude already rode past and turned to face them. He pulled the trigger of his shotgun.

Kablam!

The four bandits were turned into swiss cheese and the world turned quiet.

"Put down your weapons! Those who kneel and surrender will be spared!" Claude yelled as he pointed the empty shotgun at the remaining bandits.

Chapter 304 - Return Home

Claude's group only reached Whitestag the following afternoon and their arrival sent waves through the city.

All the bandits, including their leader, One-eyed Lambak, who had terrorised the area, had been dispatched by the three. Even their lair had been ransacked. Not only did they bring back all the corpses of the dead bandits, they even took the eight captives back, saved three kidnapped women who were used as their toys, as well as two other hostages. They returned with three carriages full of robbed goods.

Claude and the two were quite lucky themselves. They originally didn't have any way of bringing back all the stuff from the lair, but they happened to run into a merchant convoy that just departed from Whitestag for Ambruiz. When the one in charge of the convoy heard of the bandits' extermination and asked the five rescued and eight captured about the goods and 20-odd corpses that were left behind, they decided to turn back to Whitestag and lent Claude four transport carriages.

The three didn't think the bandits would be that useless. When Claude warned them to surrender with his emptied shotgun, the seven remaining bandits didn't even spare a thought and dropped their weapons to kneel on the ground. Perhaps they were aware that they wouldn't be able to escape pursuit on foot with Claude being mounted, so they might as well save some energy. Additionally, the tactics the three used to kill them off one by one had already terrified them to the core.

Claude initially wanted to collect the corpses and take the seven captives back to Whitestag. But when they finished tying the corpses to two trees and were about to head home, Myjack heard some of the bandits whisper away that they shouldn't have come out that day and that Pieck and the others would benefit from the goods left behind in their lair.

When they were interrogated at gunpoint, they instantly revealed everything they knew. Their lair was only half a day's travel from their current location. It was a cavern near the mountains and three bandits were left behind to watch it. There were three women, two hostages and lots of robbed goods there too.

Upon hearing about it, Claude decided to head to their lair to get rid of the bandit plague for good. They travelled on their carriage with the captives in tow and the corpse-covered trees towards the base. It was too bad that the three bandits that remained thought their comrades managed to return with lots of goods at the sight of Claude's troupe and ran towards them happily. Two fell from two gunshots and the last remaining one loosed his bladder from the fear and joined the other captives.

The goods in the lair weren't that valuable in the first place. There was porcelain and some other peddlers' goods and the worthwhile rugs and furs were more or less ruined by the bandits. They used them as normal bed sheets. Food wasn't aplenty either and they had two donkeys left, probably also stolen from unfortunate merchants.

As for money, there was a deerskin pouch containing more than 170 crowns. That was the hard-earned money saved up over the years of robbery by their late leader, Lambak. Lambak distributed most of the copper coins they got with his men generously. Though, there wasn't any way to spend the money in the wilderness, so the bandits merely used them for gambling. Myjack managed to gather half a sack of copper coins by searching the bodies and the cavern.

As it was getting late, the three could only rest for the night in the cavern. They only departed with the five rescued and eight captured initially, but were lucky enough to run into a convoy that just left Whitestag. When the person in charge heard that Lambak's bandits were exterminated, he generously offered four carriages to help transport the goods and corpses back.

All that busywork made it so that they only arrived in the afternoon. The citizens of Whitestag gathered at the main gates when they heard of the commotion. Claude, Myjack and Gum were hailed as heroes and many young and beautiful women tossed them rings of flowers from time to time. Perhaps in their eyes, the three young soldiers fit the image of their ideal lover perfectly.

Claude found that the city was now completely different from the town he remembered. So much had changed and he didn't even recognise the company of the merchant convoy that helped him. He only found on their way back that the company was formed four years prior and had a firm background. The owners behind the scenes were nobles from the royal capital and they dealt with business that spanned both continents.

It was no wonder the convoy supervisor didn't think much when he heard Claude's name. The others in the convoy weren't locals either and hadn't heard of him before. They were just mildly curious someone so young like him managed to become a captain of the kingdom's army. The supervisor did recognise his knighthood badge and shifted into a more respectful tone.

Claude and the rest went to the constabulary of the city guided by the supervisor. Registering and recognising the bodies and captives were their responsibility. There were tons of onlookers all around and when the constables confirmed Lambak's death, the crowd let out excited cheers.

The bandits really did cause a lot of trouble to both merchants and civilians alike in the area. It wasn't that Whitestag hadn't tried to send out a force to wipe them out. The bandits simply didn't dare to face them and would escape deep into Blackforest to play hide and seek. After the expeditionary force returned, they would continue to harass the farming folk living at the fringes of the city like annoying and hateful flies.

Claude still had to give testimony there and discuss the process of the bandit extermination. They also had to hand the goods retrieved to the constabulary. The missing goods mentioned in reports had to be returned to their owners, and those that weren't could be auctioned off and Claude would keep two-thirds of the earnings with the other third going to the constabulary as a processing fee. That was standard procedure and if the owner of the returned goods wanted to thank Claude somehow, that had nothing to do with the constabulary.

The rescued women and hostages were given the same treatment. Those with families to return to were let go and those without homes would be dealt with by City Hall. The bounty earned by Claude and the other two would be paid out at a later date since it was rather large at a total of around four hundred crowns. Lambak's and a few other more well-known bandits' bounties amounted to more than half of that.

Claude found it quite weird that he saw few familiar faces in the constabulary. Back then, he knew almost every single constable in town, but those in the headquarters seemed foreign to him. He asked one constable tending to him about it and heard that most of the old constables were drafted into Whitestag's keepery and sent to the frontlines and had yet to return. The current constables were mostly transferred from the royal capital. After all, the city was under royal capital administration and most of the officials were similarly transferred from the capital.

It was only when Claude finished his dealings and left the constabulary that he was stopped by a familiar face. He wracked his mind for a good moment before finally recalling the person to be the supervisor of Borkal's family business, Rublier's trusted aide.

"Master Claude, our master has been waiting for you in the carriage over there. He's here to invite you for a meal," the supervisor said with a polite bow.

Claude motioned Myjack and Gum to follow behind before he followed the supervisor into the carriage of Borkal's father.

"Uncle Rublier, I didn't think you'd be the first relative I know to see me back." Claude saluted formally before entering the carriage.

Rublier laughed heartily and seemed quite happy to be called a relative. He patted Claude on the shoulder.

"My boy, you're really making quite a name for yourself. Not only are you a commissioned captain, you even exterminated One-eyed Lambak's band of rascals as you returned. I'm sure those you know in town will be proud to know you. Let me treat you to dinner. We have to get drunk."

"Sorry, Uncle Rublier, I've been in the military for five whole years and haven't been home even once. I appreciate your offer, but I'd like to go home first," he earnestly said.

Rublier slapped his own forehead. "That's right, you ought to go back home first. I was just too happy to hear you're back and it totally slipped my mind. I'll send you home then, and treat you to another meal a few days later."

Send me back home? I live in the wood. It wouldn't do for him to send me that far... Claude hurriedly refused, "There's no need, Uncle Rublier. My home is in the wood and you'll have to leave the city to go to the mountains in the outskirts. It's better if I go back myself. I have a mount and carriage too..."

Taken aback, Rublier said, "The wood? Claude, didn't your mother or sister write to you? They no longer live there. They've moved back into the red-bricked mansion your father left behind three years ago."

Back in the mansion? What does that mean? Why didn't they stay in the wood? Completely puzzled, he said, "No, they didn't. I haven't received a single letter from my family for the past year. The letters I received during the first half of last year were sent out three years ago too. Back then, the forces were constantly being transferred around and it was hard to receive letters from our families on the frontlines. The postal system is rather inefficient, after all. Most soldiers loathe it. Yet, the postal department complains that they don't have nearly enough manpower. They say they can't possibly send family letters to the million soldiers on the frontlines."

Not to mention, the letters all had to be checked by the postal department first. In peacetime, that task could be handed to normal disciplinary officers to check, such as the enforcers or judiciary officers. But in wartime, those units didn't have the time to do such bothersome work and the letters piled up in the postal department. Sometimes, they would receive up to ten thousand letters a day. The department would no doubt be overwhelmed if they had to go through every single one of them.

So, many letters were returned with the standard excuse of being unable to locate the recipient. The postal department couldn't be faulted for that as many combat operations were classified and they couldn't find out where the recipients were even if they wanted to. The family members also understood that having their letters returned in that manner didn't mean something happened to the recipients in the military. They were just currently unreachable. It was far better to get letters back than to be informed of their relatives' deaths through an official notice.

Borkal nodded understandingly and opened the hatch in the carriage. The coachman turned back and asked, "Master, any instructions?"

"Go to Madam Ferd's residence," Rublier said.

"Yes, Master." The coachman shook the reins and the carriage started to move.

Claude looked outside and waved for Gum and Myjack to follow.

"By the way, is Boa doing well?"

Rublier smiled. "Not bad, I'd say. He's a second lieutenant now and is currently posted in the port city of Carmentoll in Rimodra. Last year, they repelled an attempted pirate raid on the city, and my son was promoted to second lieutenant because of his contributions. He even wrote to me last month that his tribe might be on their way back at the end of the year."

Claude sounded rather envious. "Boa did really well. He can retire five years earlier to help you with your business with his rank."

Usually, one would have to serve a whole fifteen years in local keeper tribes, but Borkal's promotion shortened his term to ten years. That meant he would be able to return to the family business after serving another five years.

Compared to Claude, however, a second lieutenant in a keeper unit wasn't that impressive. However, he would be free after he received dignitarian status. Even though a commissioned officer like Claude had clout, he wasn't exactly free to resign and had to obey the top brass' arrangements for him.

They soon arrived at the red-bricked mansion. Unlike what he remembered, a three-metre-tall wall was erected outside the building and surrounded all four of its sides, leaving only an entranceway of three metres in width. There was a smaller entrance next to the main gate.

The carriage didn't enter directly and stopped outside the entrance.

Just as Claude was about to bid the man goodbye, Rublier said with a solemn look, "Claude, currently, your sister, Anna, runs the household. The three of them live in the suite on the left. I had wanted to tell you about a lot of things today, but now I think it's better to find out much of it for yourself back home. The changes in Whitestag over the past few years have been massive and your mother and sister had no choice but to make these choices. Given the situation, we old folks of the town aren't able to offer much help. If your father were still here, it might've turned out far better."

There seemed to be more to that, but Rublier didn't continue. He waved and bid Claude farewell, leaving him a little distraught. But that didn't stifle his excitement to go back home. He motioned for Myjack and Gum to follow him to the entrance.

"Hey, who might you be, Mister?" Claude heard a familiar voice call out to him.

He turned back and saw a familiar face. "Huh? Uncle Pegg, why are you here?"

Pegg was the man put in charge of the pier of Eriksson's family years ago. He had helped Eriksson refit a small fishing boat which symbolised the friendship of the four back then. But after Eriksson lost his father through the trading fleet incident, he blamed Claude's family for it and turned against him. Not long after, he heard the pier was bought by someone else. Claude didn't hear what happened to Pegg before he joined the military.

He didn't expect to be able to see the man in this fashion. With the passing of five years, Pegg seemed far older and more than half of his hair turned white. However, he did recognise Claude. "You... you're Claude! That's wonderful! You're finally back..."

Chapter 305 - Mother, Sister, Brother, and Pluto

No words could describe Claude's feelings when he reunited with his family. The moment he stepped into the building, a large, white dog half-a-person tall leapt onto him and pushed him to the ground, licking him incessantly with its large tongue.

Gum, following behind, jumped at the sight and drew his shortsword. Fortunately, Myjack was paying attention and realised Claude wasn't being attacked. The dog was just being friendly. Pegg didn't seem surprised and called the dog.

"Pluto, move away. Don't stick to your master like that."

It took considerable effort on Claude's part to push the dog away. So this was what had become of the little pup after he'd left. He didn't think it would still recognise him after so many years. He wasn't going to complain, however.

His mother emerged from deeper in the house to see what the commotion was about.

"Apologies, Mister, this is our house pet, Pluto. You're not hurt, are you?" she asked apologetically.

Claude shook the dog by his head.

"It's me, mom. I'm back. Pluto's just saying hello."

"Claude?" his mother asked incredulously.

Her eyes inspected him earnestly for a long moment, then at once shone like suns and bled tears like torn arteries.

"You... it's really you... you're back!"

Claude barely had time to come upright again before his mother leapt at him much like Pluto had done a few moments earlier.

"It's me. I'm really back."

His mother's lips moved but nothing, not even a slight whisper escaped her mouth. Her cheeks, now soaked from her tears, were quickly blossoming crimson. Her arms clenched him as though he would die if they let go.

Pluto had said his greetings, so his attention turned to the two new figures. He circled them cautiously, suspiciously, his nose twitching warningly as he sniffed the air about them.

"Who's that?" a clear voice asked.

A large-eyed beauty stepped out of the kitchen, frying pan in hand. Her steps halted when she saw Claude's face, then the pan dropped to the floor.

"B... brother..."

The words were more implied than said, but Claude had been staring right at her as she had.

"Yes, I'm back," Claude finished for her.

He let go of his mother, then led her to the dining hall.

"I didn't think our little crybaby would grow into a beauty so quickly. You're still as clumsy as always, I see. Look at the mess, Anna. You broke the pan!" he said, half teasingly.

A set of stuttering steps echoed down the stairs for several seconds longer than they should before a handsome young man emerged from the stairway. Though the face had nothing of the fat it had when Claude had last seen it, he recognised his little brother. Bloweyk was fourteen now and working on his second year in Whitestag Elementary. He'd only started attending school the previous year because he could no longer take his sister's beatings.

Though he'd heard the man hugging his mother and sister was his brother on his way down, he still stared at him as he would a stranger. He fought to match the memory of the brother he had to the face he now saw. It took him several long moments, to pick out the eyes, chin, lips, nose and ears as familiar and finally accept that the face was indeed that of his brother. When he did, his face blossomed, almost literally as much as figuratively, and he immediately started pestering Claude for his war stories. His eyes wandered to the three green stars on Claude's epaulette every other breath he took.

Myjack and Gum retreated from the house tactfully after they'd been introduced and contented themselves with offloading the carriage. It would have been a tall order to find the correct wooden boxes, but Claude had taken care to mark each appropriately. The most important boxes were sent straight to the study, which had become Angelina's laboratory after the family's return to the mansion.

The boxes filled one entire corner of the office from floor to roof. His mother, now cooking for the three, spoke her questions from the kitchen as she listened to the two marching up and down the stairs again and again. Foremost on her mind was the cost of it all. Claude told her he'd paid five hundred crowns, or there-abouts, offhandedly. Such prices had not been significant in years, but his mother collapsed to her knees when she heard it. The family may have an amount of wealth now, but she'd still spent the vast majority of her life counting every penny, and her perception of 'excessive' had yet to adjust. Claude had to spend the next two hours listening to his mother's more-than-impassioned lecture on his 'frivolous' spending.

Angelina, who'd gone out to do some shopping, returned near the end of the second hour and calmed her mother. Claude was quite disappointed in his mother's inadaptability, and most annoyed at how little freedom she was willing to grant her grown son when it came to his own purse.

The two women of the household busied themselves in the kitchen for another two hours, after which a feast unlike Claude had had in years was served. No amount of food, however, was too much for Claude. He may have largely finished growing, but his appetite had yet to realise it.

Claude's mother had not yet found out that Claude's two companions were his subordinates and treated them as his good friends, and her dear guests.

When it came time for everyone to sit at the table, however, the two simply refused to take their seats. The two's obstinacy forced Claude to introduce them properly as his underlings, including the whole story behind their accompanying him. Instead of convincing his mother to let them be, however, it made her even more determined to treat them to the best she had to offer, and the two eventually caved and took their seats.

Neither Claude nor Gum held back, but Gum was far more capable an eater than his captain. So much so that even Bloweyk, who had always had an appetite, an appetite made even stronger by his current age, couldn't help but pat the man's stomach to try and figure out where all the food he gobbled down went.

With those two stuffing themselves, the feast didn't last long. Claude began recounting some of his tales as Gum polished the last of the serving dishes. He told them much of his life over the last five years, glossing over his promotion and knighting as much as he could. His mother, ever the devoted wife -- and, now, widow -- didn't fail to mention the pride she knew her husband would have felt for his second son had he still been around several times. At least the grief that had ruled her voice whenever Claude's father came up before he'd left had now gone. Instead she spoke of her husband with only nostalgia.

Claude had thought his mother would be the one to eventually bring up he-who-should-not-be-named, but instead it was Angelina. Claude had almost completely forgotten his brother had ever existed. Even after his explicit mention, which soured Claude's mood more than he let show, he could only barely recall the vaguest of images of his brother's appearance. It seemed his mother had been tactfully avoiding mention of him, because the moment he was brought up, she was quick to take up the topic. She mentioned with some pride -- which soured Claude's mood even more -- that her eldest had been doing quite well for himself in recent years.

He'd not returned once, though he'd written two letters in the last three years. He'd taken up service under a count, his busy days the excuse for his lack of a visit. His last letter, which had arrived at the end of the previous year, had contained a ten-crown note. He'd said it was his life's savings thus far, a gift for his mother. He did not say as much, but it was a downpayment on the heartache he'd caused and the money and valuables he'd stolen.

Just mentioning the letter made Claude's mother tear up some. She gushed, as Claude knew every mother had no choice but to, over her eldest. She was overjoyed that he'd righted his life and was walking a good path again. She had kept both his letters. They sat in the drawer in the small cabinet by her bedside.

"Did you write back?" Claude asked.

"Yes," Angelina said before her mother could answer, "She's written back several times. He'd not replied to any of her letters, however. He said in his second letter that he was always travelling with the count so he wouldn't see any letter she may write until the end of the year when they returned to the estate for winter though. I think he'd gotten one or two last winter before leaving again, because he asked her not to send anymore until they would arrive when he was back because the servants read them while he was gone and would always tease him. She's not written to him again yet."

Claude nodded. His mother may be a quick forgiver, as he supposed mothers had no choice but to be, but he was not. He didn't wish misfortune on the man, but he had no interest in his life, nor did he ever want to see him again, reformed man or not. He did not think the man had any reason, nor any business, to return. He had nothing to do with the family. Bloweyk had inherited everything, so there was nothing for him here.

Claude finished his plate and headed for the study to get out the gifts he'd prepared. His father had killed himself over the gifts' value in debt, yet now Claude could casually spend it on gifts. To Claude it was proof of how well the family had recovered and flourished. To his mother, however, it was an act most unfilial. A spitting on his father's grave of a kind, to so frivolously spend the money his father had died over.

"It's all antiques, mom. Look at this silverware. They've over 200 years of history in Duke Rimodra's household. They were made by Grandmaster Fandro himself.

"This tea set belonged to Duke Sidins' wife. They're three centuries old. The painting 'Afternoon Tea' even has the set in the painting."

Claude made sure to start with the most expensive, and valuable, things he'd bought. Much of the rest may not have much value in a couple years or decades, but they had true history. They were an investment more than anything. If the merchant from whom he'd bought the two sets had known they were originals, he'd not have been able to buy a single cup or knife for all his 500 crowns. The man was convinced they were forgeries, however, particularly good ones, perhaps, hence their price, but forgeries nonetheless.

Claude knew better, however. His Eye of Appraisal laid the truth bare. The fine, almost microscopic scratches and signs of wear on their surface despite the most cautious and gentle care they'd been no doubt shown over the centuries, were plain to his eyes. They were such a steal for their listed prices Claude didn't even bother haggling. He bought them upfront and couldn't suppress his grin as he walked off with them.

"I had someone appraise them on the way back. They're the genuine article. They're worth thousands of crowns each."

"B-but... even so, they're too expensive--" Her anger at Claude's frivolous spending had vanished, but in its place was a distraughtness he'd not seen in more years than he could count. "I can't keep this in the house. If anyone finds out about this, they'll come for them! I'll need to hire a guard, no, several!"

"No need. They're not the kind of thing you take out for every afternoon tea, or every evening's dinner. Just stow them safely. If you really don't want to use them, then just keep them as family heirlooms."

Claude didn't care much for the items. He didn't even care much for money anymore either. It only interested him in as far as it could fund his research and study of magic.

Everything else were gifts as well. His mother got a ruby necklace. He was certain it came out of the Sidins jewellery box. Angelina got a diamond crown. One of the dukes, Claude didn't know which, had once given it to his daughter as a coming-of-age present. Bloweyk received a golden ceremonial scimitar one of the Canasian dukes had given one of his vassals as a wedding gift.

Claude had gotten himself a shotgun designed and made by his ex-lover's father, the famous gunsmith. The family as a whole also got another 56-set of silver crockery. The set was less impressive and valuable than the set he'd designated the family heirlooms, but that might just be enough to convince his mother to actually use them, if only on the most prestigious of occasions and for the most esteemed of guests.

Claude had not made a single purchase where he'd paid the equal of the item's worth. He'd spent about 400 crowns on the rest of the stuff, including things not mentioned, but all-in-all they were worth at least 1500 crowns. Far more valuable than everything he'd bought for the family combined, however, were the magical items he found in the black market.

The show and tell finished. His mother and sister packed everything away carefully again and stowed them in various safety-holes around the house. The most valuable were taken to his mother's room, though Claude wondered if she would be able to get any sleep with such valuable things in the same room.

The set of 56 was to be put on display in a cabinet Angelina would order from a local carpenter. Claude realised that Angelina did indeed run the household. Their mother had given up her position as matriarch, and Bloweyk had no strength to complain even if he wanted.

The time had finally come to talk about accommodation.

Bloweyk had taken over Claude's old attic-room. His mother had the old main bedroom, and his sister now had sole occupancy of her and Bloweyk's old room. Myjack and Gum were given Arbeit's old room, and Claude relegated to the study on a mattress. Myjack and Gum had wanted to object to sleeping better than their captain, but they were given no chance to speak.

Claude's mother and sister tidied everything up while the four men left the house to go looking for clothing for Claude's two companions.

Chapter 306 - Sister and Spells

When he first brought the magical goods into the study, Claude saw Angelina had brought over all the magical tools and custom-made furniture from the wooden villa. He didn't know what had happened between Maria and Angelina to make her so insistent on leaving Normanley Wood.

Angelina took the carriage with which Claude had come to the carpenter, had him open his shop, and bought two ready-made wooden bunk beds. She wanted to convert Arbeit's room into a dorm for Myjack and Gum so they would have a more comfortable stay.

Arbeit's bed was moved into a corner in her workshop for Claude. She did everything nearing the middle of the night. Their mother and brother had gone to sleep already, and Myjack and Gum came to bid the two goodnight before they washed up. Claude stopped his sister for a talk to find out about the family's situation.

She had been expecting this, so she didn't squeem. She cast a spell and Claude could feel a bubble-like barrier surrounding the room.

"What spell is this?" Claude asked.

"Silence. Nobody can hear anything we say no matter how noisy it gets."

"How's your magic training going?" he asked concernedly.

"Pretty well. I think I'll make the third ring in another six months. What about you?"

Claude's face paled awkwardly. His sister had begun her journey on magic with his guidance, but now, five years later, she was a two-ring magus well on her way to her third ring. He was still just a one-ring magus. He had done his best to train every moment he had, but commanding men in war left little time for any personal pursuits. At best he'd make two rings in another couple months.

"I'm afraid my progress has been slow. I've not had many opportunities to train. Even fewer because I've had to be careful not to be discovered. I hope to make two rings in a couple more months though," he said, shaking his head dejectedly. "By the way, what basic spells did you engrave in your second ring?"

"I only have four so far. Transmute Rock to Mud, Transmute Mud to Rock, Flame Control, and that combat spell you gave me, Chain Lightning. I haven't found any others in Landes' diary that are really practical. I can strengthen walls with the transmutation spells, and Flame Control lets me control the heat in the array. The rest I've recorded in a grimoire. I don't think they're worthy of being in my hexagram."

Claude had to admit she was far greater a magus than him. At the very least, she had the air of a capable, confident magus, which he sorely lacked. He'd barely had any time to play the wiser senior in her life now that she could almost be teaching him.

He stood up silently, took out a blank notebook, and handed it to her. She took it with a puzzled expression.

"Sprinkle a little potion on it."

His lover had made it. She'd copied all the formation diagrams for the spells her mother had left her with ink potion. The ink vanished once it dried. A certain potion had to be sprinkled on the pages to wet them to reveal the ink.

"Since you have three more spaces, I suggest you engrave these three spells. I won't accept no to Energy Barrier. Lightweight Flight lets you leap over ridges and hills easily. Stealth Sneaking let's you run and hide. They're very useful. You can choose any you find interesting from the rest and copy them into your grimoire."

Angelina sprinkled ink potion over the first blank page and watched a light blue spell formation diagram appear.

"How did you get so many spells?"

"Well..." He hesitated for a moment, but steeled himself and answered. "I met a magus from Siklos. She lives alone in a forest I happened to wander into. I helped her out with a couple things and she gave me these spells in return."

"That can't be... Don't all magi from Siklos want to take over the continent again? Why would they live in seclusion?"

"She and her kind are different. She calls themselves nature magi. Apparently they're very attuned to nature. Most of these spells are have to do with plant cultivation."

Angelina pages through the rest of the notebook, sprinkling the pages and watching the diagrams appear one after the other.

"Whoa, Cultivate and Returning Spring are far too useful. I could plant all the herbs I need with them... Claude, can I make these my basic spells?"

"Don't even think about it."

Why would his sister make an even better nature magus than Sheila? Sheila had never really cared about nature spells despite being a nature magus and one's descendant. She cared only about learning combat spells.

He supposed it had to be because of the different environments in which the two had grown up. Sheila had spent her entire life in the wilderness. For almost all of that time, she'd been driven by only one goal: to drive away the bears that kept her from her mother's inheritance. That goal had driven her to seek combat spells, and had made her abandon her nature magus ancestry.

Angelina, on the other hand, focused on magic in relation to her pursuits as a herbalist. She only cared for combat spells as far as keeping herself safe, which she did only because her brother had drilled it into her before he'd left five years earlier.

She pouted at him upsetly.

"Anna, these are tier-zero spells. It's a waste to engrave them on your second pentagram! And you have so much mana that the difference in consumption isn't worth it either. We're rogue magi, Anna. We always have to keep in mind that we might be forced to go on the run at any time. Being able to keep yourself safe is much more important than anything else. None of those spells will do that. The three spells I picked out for you will, however. Energy Barrier protects you from magic attacks, Lightweight Flight allows you to escape quickly and Stealth Sneaking lets you hide from enemies. I won't budge on this."

His little sister lowered her head in dejected defeat and mumbled.

"I understand."

Claude wanted to stretch out his hand and stroke her hair, something he usually did to show his affections. But the moment he touched her head, he suddenly recalled that she was a grown woman -- 19 years old. She wasn't that crybaby who'd seen him off when he'd departed for Bluefeather. His hand froze just above her head at the realisation.

His little sister, almost instinctively, raised her head again and pushed it into his hand.

"You're going to mess up my hair again! Bad brother!"

Claude laughed dryly and he pulled back his hand. The awkwardness had dissipated but he made a mental note to not do something like that again. It had been fine when Angelina had been a little girl, but it was inappropriate now that she was a woman.

"I bet the magus who gave you these spells was a beautiful young woman," Angelina said, almost speaking to herself as she paged through the notebook again.

"She's called Sheila," Claude said, answering the question with his silence on the matter.

Women were like blood-hounds when it came to other women. They could sniff them out from kilometres away. That said, he wished to say as little about Sheila to his sister as he could get away with. It would have been a different matter had his lover chosen to come back with him and become his wife, but, since she wasn't, there was no point in dredging her up.

"Thank goodness you didn't bring her back. You'd have broken Kefnie's heart," Angelina said, patting her bosom, "She's been waiting for you. Her resolve hasn't wavered in all these five years. She's been courted by a number of handsome naval officers. In the last year since you've stopped sending letters, they kept saying you had to be dead and that she should forget about you and move on with her life. It got even worse when our last letters were returned and they said you'd vanished from the registry. They had nowhere to send our letters. She's been Mother's strength since then, but I know she's missed and feared for you even more. She recently vowed to become a chaste nun if it turned out you'd died."

He was reminded of how horrible a man he was. He'd not cared about Kefnie's feelings, despite leading her on before leaving, when he'd fallen for Sheila. She'd all but vanished from his mind. He'd acted like she didn't exist, and had even had the gall to propose to Sheila. He supposed he should thank the girl for turning him down. If he'd really brought her back, he might have just torn his family apart. His mother had, for years now, accepted Kefnie as his wife, even though there'd never been a ceremony. She would not have let Sheila into the house. It would have dragged the family name through the mud as well. He didn't doubt it would have made the headlines and gossip rags on every street corner in the city. It wouldn't have been fair to Sheila either. He'd never so much as peeped about Kefnie to her. She would have returned with him expecting to meet her new family-in-law as his rightful fiancee, only to be treated as a tramp. She didn't deserve that.

The rage, disappointment, and shame might just kill his mother. She had never truly recovered from his father's death. Her constitution was still in shambles and she became sick at the drop of a feather. Kefnie might not survive it either, mentally, at least. Absence made the heart grow fonder, and she'd have five years of it. She might just kill herself, or decide to come after him. He didn't think she'd actually manage to kill him, but he might be forced to kill her in self-defence, and that would ruin him, not just in the public eye, but to himself as well. He'd never live off the guilt. Even if she just got over it and got on with her life, he had no doubt there would be no shortage of young gentlemen who'd challenge him to duels for her honour.

He was most concerned over what it would do to Sheila, however. She was pure and innocent. She'd never survive the storm her return with him would start. He didn't know how she'd react, on the one hand it might ruin her psyche so badly she killed herself, on the other she might refuse to accept any criticism of him and take to her magic to resolve things. He didn't know which would be worse. If she killed herself he might just be driven off a cliff and kill himself as well, if she used her spells carelessly, however, even if no one was hurt, the entire kingdom would come down on them.

He paled completely as his mind ran through the scenarios, and sweat started running cold down his back. He wanted to bow before Sheila in gratitude for choosing to stay where she was. He'd been dejected and almost angry at the time, but now he felt nothing but gratitude for her unintended wisdom. He was a cheater, he'd cheated on Kefnie with one -- no -- two women. As much as he disliked the way things seemed were seeming to work out, at least this way his family would not be hurt. What more could he ask for than for at least his family to be happy. He might be a transmigrator, but he was nothing special in this world. He could not conquer the world.

He had neither power nor authority. He was but a puny captain.

His experiences in the war had given him a little ambition, but it was not much, and even that would take years, if not decades, of work. Right now he had no way to climb the social ladder, so he just had to wait for an opportunity to come along.

"--the captain held out the most beautiful moon-goddess flower and knelt before Kefnie and swore that, if she accepted his affections, he would take care of her for the rest of her life. She just told him frankly that someone had already taken her heart and was fighting on the frontlines. She even chastised him for being shameless enough to take advantage of his fellow officer's absence from home. The captain left, covering his face..."

He'd missed at least four proposal tales while lost in his thoughts. Angelina droned on and on about Kefnie's stout determination to marry him. She'd not finally accepted Kefnie as her future sister-in-law because she'd waited for Claude until his return, instead, she'd only finally accepted that Claude was worthy of Kefnie because he'd return a captain. The captain of whom she'd just spoken had been furious at the rejection, and had declared that Claude would have to salute him first before he was allowed to do anything with Kefnie, if he ever returned. He later even said he'd bring every captain in the city to Claude's wedding and make him salute them all, one by one, before they'd allow the wedding to take place.

Claude smiled. If they did that, they'd be the ones standing in line to salute him, one by one.

Claude thumped the table and glared at his sister strictly, finally bringing an end to her senseless ramblings.

"Let's not talk about Kefnie for now. I'll see her tomorrow. Tell me about the family's situation and what happened at the wood that made you move back here."

Chapter 307 - Lady Maria's Deliberations

Some things couldn't stay hidden, and Angelina understood that. Now that Claude was back, she had to tell him everything. He was, after all, the one she could trust most. After some hesitation, she began her story from the day he had departed.

Maria had come to Whitestag that 9th month. She first inspected Normanley Real Estate, then attended a meeting with the mayor, and finally came to Normanley Wood to see the family. She agreed to take Angelina as her disciple on account of her relationship with Claude.

It took her only a month to realise she had stumbled on a jackpot. She had mentioned in her following letter to Claude that Angelina was more talented in both magic and herbal medicine than him. It reminded her of herself when she was young, so she invested even more effort into nurturing his little sister.

If Angelina hadn't had to care for her recovering mother and her young brother, Maria would've dragged her to the royal capital with her. Angelina remained in the wood, however, but she didn't disappoint Maria and her studies in herbal medicine progressed at a lightning pace. It shocked even the baroness. The two communicated through letters and Maria would answer every question she had. Sometimes, they wrote a few times a month.

This was all in the first year of Claude's absence. By the end of the year, the four-storey building Claude had had Rublier build was finished. Angelina became the richest landlord the city and had been ever since. The former chief constable, Thomas, was also elected to be one of the three Council of Dignitarian's members. Rodan's real estate company also won the other contracts related to the base. Everything was turning for the better.

Maria visited again the following 9th month. She grew fonder and fonder of her new cute and obedient student and began to hope she would become her daughter-in-law so she could serve the Stellin royal family as a court apothecary.

Maria had a son and a daughter and her husband was one of Stellin X's trusted guards, Viscount Kartoff, who happened to be the current vice corpsman of the royal guard. He never came with her on her retreats.

The parents' brilliance had not passed to their children, however. It was probably at least partly because of how comfortable the two had grown up. They'd never had to work for anything. It had turned them into quite unsavoury individuals and their mother was very worried about them. Her son, Hertinger, was about Claude's age, but had already been expelled from the college due to his abysmal grades. He entered Lausett Academy, only to be expelled from there as well a year later for copious absentia. He had been attending the Royal Art Centre at the time. At best his mother could hope for him to eventually graduate and get a job there, where he would languish in mediocrity for the rest of his life. His future, had he just done his part, would have been much the same as his father's. The old man had exchanged a number of major political favours to get his son a spot on the royal guard. Now he was only ever going to be a mediocre instructor in an arts centre.

Her daughter, Christie, was two years her brother's junior and a classic bratty princess. She was arrogant, aggravating, selfish, and vain to those beneath her in social status. She believed herself to be born noble and loved to throw her weight around, to the point that she earned her uncle, the king himself's rebuke.

"Your grandfather was a mere cobbler. What's so great about you? You actually dared to hit and curse at peasants out in the street just because they blocked your carriage and made you fifteen minutes late for your date?! Ridiculous!"

Maria felt very guilty for neglecting the children's upbringing in favour of her research, but her acquiescence to their every whim did nothing to make up for her absence. It took until the two were young adults for them to learn how destructive the habits they'd developed truly were.

The children weren't stupid, not by a long measure. Hertinger had always under achieved everywhere he'd gone, but he was a true socialite... handsome and charismatic, too. He would never have a family through his own efforts, however, though he could smooch off his mother's relationship.

Christie, for her part,was a true opportunist. Rather dominating, too, especially among the little ones. Her lifelong wish was to be the fourth prince's consort because she believed only one with high blood was fit to be her husband.

Maria had considered marrying her daughter off to Claude after he revealed his economic wit to her, but she knew the two would never get along. And if she tried to force it on Claude, he would just pack up and leave, their enemy from then on.

His little sister was not as stubborn, however, or didn't seem so, at least. She adored the girl. Not to mention it would be perfect if her son could wed the girl. She also hoped that Angelina's firm personality -- firm where it counted most, at least -- would help clobber her son back onto the straight and narrow as well. Not to mention that if the two had offspring she wouldn't have to worry about the family's continued existence.

She'd kept the thought to herself, however, given that Angelina had been just 16 at the time.

The naval base's construction was progressing well two years into the war. Viscount Felidos also finally made public the details of his plan to develop Whitestag into a full-fledged city. He hoped to break down the specialisation of each of the old town neighbourhood and turn the current town-occupied land into the city's new centre. It made for excellent business, though the army's constant recruitment had eaten away at their manpower pool.

The major elements of the military's new base were completed in the second half of the war's third year. The books showed the company had made 100 thousand crowns' profit. Rodan went against the other investors' objections and reinvested it all into the city's development, hoping to repeat their success with the naval base.

Maria returned earlier than usual the following year, arriving in the middle of the 8th month, son and daughter in tow. Hertinger had come as his mother's escort. She hoped to use the extra time to tie Angelina and her son up. She told her son that she'd picked Angelina out as his future wife and instructed him to win her heart.

"This is my son. He's quite handsome, isn't he? The perfect kind of face to fall for at first sight, right?" she'd said as she's introduced the boy.

Angelina, despite her maturity, had been just a 17-year-old girl at the time, and had been somewhat moved by the baroness' son's beauty. He had been the spitting image of the knights in shining armour all the novels she'd read growing up described. The baroness' daughter, however, was quite an unpleasant girl. She was arrogant, childish, and very demeaning -- when her mother wasn't around, of course.

Maria was recalled to the capital in the middle of the 9th month because the king had fallen ill. The moment she left, her two children revealed their true colours. Her son disappeared into the fledgling city's red light district that very evening, and didn't return for several days. Her daughter immediately started bossing everyone around. She even tried to do it to Angelina, but the girl just flatly ignored her.

Hertinger returned from his tour de rapports about a week later. He was pale and gaunt, and asked Angelina to concoct him something to boost his stamina. Angelina naturally said no. The fool then threatened her, however, and said he wouldn't take her as his wife if she wasn't obedient.

The girl lost her shit.

Who the hell had the gall, much less the authority, to arbitrarily decide for her who she was to marry? Not to mention that the man that had been chosen for her was this little lecher. That said, she immediately knew it had been her teacher's decision to pair her and her son, and she didn't quite know how to reject the woman.

That evening, however, while she was studying in the baroness' laboratory, Hertinger tried to bed her. He hoped that once she was spoilt, she'd have no choice but to wed him, and would become his obedient little pet.

He got in a couple gropes while Angelina was in shock at his actions, but then she turned around and beat him to within a few centimetres of his life. His shouts and wails drew the entire estate's attention. Both his hands were broken, his head had been cracked, and he had numerous bruises all over his body.

News of the incident quickly made it to the baroness, who couldn't believe what she'd heard. She couldn't not deal with it. On the one hand, it was her son, on the other, the victim was her retainer's little sister, her student.

While the news was still making it to her, however, Christie chased the family off the estate. Angelina argued that part of the wood belonged to them, and she thus had no right to chase them off. Christie reacted by accusing them of theft, saying Claude had only acted to get her mother's trust so he could take her land, and that Angelina had been trying to seduce her brother so she could marry into the family's riches.

Angelina was shaking by the time she finished her recounting. Her mother had fainted at the accusation and Bloweyk had burst into tears. Angelina had been on the edge of blowing the bitch's head off, but didn't on account of the thing's relation to her teacher.

She realised, however, that Christie had only tagged along to figure out how to get back the land her mother had given to Claude. She felt it was a mistake for her mother to give away the family's land, land that belonged to her as much as her mother, especially since she was set to inherit the land personally -- her brother inheriting their father's estates.

She felt it was only right that she demand her land's return and that the thieves bugger off. Though Angelina could not hand over the land, as it belonged to her brother, not her, her mother, or her younger brother, she couldn't stick around, so she left the estate with the rest of the family, and returned to the red-bricked mansion.

"I wrote Lady Maria a long letter to explain what had happened and thanked her for everything she'd done for me. I told her I would always consider her my teacher, but that I would not leave my family behind to go to the capital, even after I graduate from middle school. I would move on the path of herbal medicine on my own."

Claude understood that, though not said in as many words, Angelina had cut all ties with his mistress. He doubted Maria would take action on the matter, either. She couldn't take either side without irreparably damaging her relations with the other, and she couldn't decide between a disciple as promising as Angelina and her son. Angelina understood this, which was why she took the initiative to cut their ties.

She didn't know, however, how important that land and its giving to Claude was to Maria's honour. She had given it to him as payment for his forbidden spells, after all.

"I have no idea what she was thinking, but Rodan came to me at the end of the year and handed me a 1200-crown note. He didn't have a reply from her, however. He just said it was for the land and the villa. I've deposited the money in a bank account. I haven't touched it."

"It's fine. I'll give the money to you. I taught Lady Maria five runic spells, forbidden ones. She didn't have any money at the time, so she gave me the land and the villa instead," Claude explained.

Chapter 308 - Buying Woodland

So that was why he'd not received any letters from the baroness for the last two years. He kept sending letters, but she never wrote back. He had thought the army postal service had kept losing the letters, but it appeared she'd simply never written to him. She might simply just not know how to reply to him, especially not since she didn't know if he'd been told about what had happened.

She was not responsible for her son's actions, but it would never have happened had she not tried to push the two together. She didn't know how Claude would react to it, and what he'd think of her as a result. Then there was the matter of Christie stealing of Claude's land.

Outsiders, and even Claude's younger siblings might think that the family's recovery after his father's death was due to her benefaction, but she knew better. At best she and Claude were equals.

The relationship difficulties between her and Claude's sister was no doubt behind her silence since the events. She was not thick skinned enough to keep asking for help with the business from the brother of the woman whom her son had so wronged, and from the man whom her daughter had so wronged. She also knew that her children had destroyed any hope she'd had of tying the young man to her household.

Claude felt nothing about his sister's beating up of his mistress' son. He would not have stopped those few breaths early had he been the one doing the beating. With this, his family's ties to the baroness had been cut, and he had every excuse to cut his ties with them as well. Though he was in the military, he was still House Normanley's servant, and would have had to return to their service once he came out of the military. Now, however, he was justified in cutting ties with the family and ending his service to the baroness.

Maria was a good person, even a friend. She'd taken very good care of his family, and he bore no grudges toward her. But he was certain, now more than ever, that he could not be her family's servants. Her children were nothing like her, and he could not stomach the thought of being their lackey.

"Are you listening? Claude..." Angelina asked, Claude's eyes glassed in thought.

"--Ah, yes, I'm listening. Go on."

Whitestag's promotion to a city hadn't affected it much, apart from the higher conscription requirements. What had changed the city, was the trade route to Nubissia, which Storm paved the way for. It had brought untold riches to the town, which was now ever-faster growing into a settlement worthy of the title 'city'.

Investors from across the kingdom had flocked to the city, hoping to get seeds in the ground early so their investments could snap up more of the sunshine and produce greater harvests. The most businesses that had been started in a single month was thirteen. All thirteen were trade companies operating trade vessels along the trade route to the other continent.

Viscount Felidos had, on that basis, made the ambitious declaration that he would triple the city's size in just a couple years.

One of the large companies from the capital set up shop in the city at the end of the year, however. Fenix's arrival sent shockwaves through the city. Within three months they'd bought up sixty businesses and forced the remaining ten large companies to enter partnerships with them.

In just six months they established an effective monopoly on trade through the city, and started manipulating the prices of everything that came through the docks. They even bought most of the officials operating the customs offices by the docks, and made it so that any ship without a permit from them, couldn't do business in the city. Recently, they'd even started having such ships impounded for 'smuggling'.

"Even Uncle Rublier's company had to sell a third of their shares to Fenix," Angelina said.

"Did the mayor not do anything?" Claude asked.

Angelina clicked her tongue.

"Why would he? I heard Fenix was founded by a number of the capital's most influential nobles. I wouldn't be surprised if he owned several shares in the company as well. The company even has the royal family's support. The second prince and third princess showed their support for the company. They personally announced that the company's permit system was perfectly legal and that no one was to ask any questions.

"I don't know how anyone can be so shameless! It's obvious they came with the worst of intentions. They just want to control the market and suck it dry. Everyone knows the companies that originally refused their offers were forced to sell to them, or partner with them by blackmail, threats, and who knows what else. Uncle Rublier wouldn't have sold shares to them if they hadn't started confiscating his ships for 'smuggling'."

Claude snickered. So those were the merchant nobles Duriaulo had mentioned. They weren't much different from the old nobles. Their idea of 'free trade' was that they were free to trade what- and however they liked, and free to make everyone else do what they wanted in that regard as well.

Fenix didn't initially make trouble for Claude's family since they weren't involved in any businesses related to trade. They had, however, recently taken a liking to the apartment building Claude had built for his little sister. They wanted to make it their city headquarters.

They'd approached Angelina and made an offer of three thousand crowns. She'd turned them down, of course. While she didn't have an issue with selling the place in principle, she was not going to sell it for just three thousand crowns when her brother had spent 4600 building it.

Whilst Fenix's price wasn't bad for the building according to the old prices before the town had been made a city, and before the area had become such a hot place for construction and business, that had changed. The company wouldn't leave her be, however. They'd even threatened her, never in as many words, of course, but the meaning behind their words were clear.

The company didn't know just how deep the family's roots ran in the town, however. No matter their machinations, they just couldn't make life hard for the family. They'd attempted to have their thugs rob the family and rough them up, but their men had come scampering back, broken and bruised. They then turned to the local government, trying to turn them against the family and have them cause trouble for them, but Councillor Thomas stood up for the family alongside the mayor and half of the council. Felidos had recommended Claude to Bluefeather, after all, and had kept an eye on his progress since, though he didn't know what had happened to him since their initial deployment beyond the mountain range. That said, he knew the boy must have achieved much, and he was not going to let his family come into hard times on his watch. His honour rested on it.

The viscount's defence of the family prompted Fenix to look into the family thoroughly, which revealed Claude and Angelina's ties to the baroness. They didn't, however, learn of the fight between Angelina and the baroness, and their subsequent breaking of ties.

They finally sucked it up and made Angelina a proper offer. She would have turned them down again out of spite for their dirty dealings, but her mother couldn't handle the stress anymore and was on the brink of falling ill again. She also knew that it would only be a matter of time before they found out about her falling out with the baroness, at which time her leverage over them would vanish and they'd come at her with no reservations, so she relented.

The building was sold for 8000 crowns.

"So the family only owns the mansion?" Claude asked.

It was laughable. He'd worked so hard to set his family up as a well-rooted family before his departure. They were far from property moguls, and would have been ever further from it once the city had grown into its own, but they would have been amongst the richest in the city regardless. Most other entities that would have owned as much land would have been companies or businesses, not private households. They'd yet again, however, been reduced to just the one red-brick building, though they were far wealthier than they'd been before.

Claude wasn't angry at anyone. His family hadn't lost anything per se, they'd been fairly compensated for both the lands in the Normanley estate, and his sister's apartment complex. But they had lost all their properties.

He was somewhat disappointed in himself, however. He'd built his sister the apartment complex so she would have a stable income and wouldn't be forced to marry some dimwit bastard out of desperation, but he'd forgotten that the town was rapidly growing and that, while no one in the old town would dare mess with his family, a bigger town attracted bigger fish, who would have few qualms in messing with his family if they had something they wanted. If not for all the connections he'd built up in the town's upper society before his departure, things would not have turned out as amicably and well for them as it had.

"I bought some woodland," his sister added, stealing a glance at his expression.

"Woodland?" Claude asked.

Angelina explained that she'd figured out that it was much easier to train magic in the woods. She didn't have to worry as much about being discovered, and she needed land to plant her herbs. Having woodland thus benefitted both her interests. Mainly, however, it saved her money since she didn't have to keep buying all the herbs she needed.

"How much?" Claude asked.

His sister's answer stupefied him.

She'd not wanted to just keep putting all her money in the bank. They didn't offer interest in this world, unlike back on Earth, so money sitting in a bank wasn't working. Angelina already had over ten thousand crowns in the bank, so she bought about 60 hectares of woodland just outside the city, around Normanley Wood.

She'd originally planned to buy 130, 60 from three different farmers, and the remaining 70 from the local government, but she'd been denied purchase of the government's woodland because she was a peasant. She had to be a dignitarian to buy public land not specifically put up for sale.

That said, however, she still owned 60 hectares, now the only person besides the baroness to own any woodland near the city at all. She'd decided to name the three patches of wood Ferd Wood, a little spit at the baroness' bitch of a daughter.

She'd gotten the land at a bargain, too. She'd paid just half market price for the woodland since they'd been stripped bare for building materials for the recent projects in the town. It would take decades for the woods to regrow, so the farmers were willing to sell it to her cheap.

Without the local government's pieces of woodland, however, the land she owned was not connected, and so she couldn't merge them.

Claude burst out laughing.

It was a non-issue now that he was back. He was a quasi-noble, so he could just buy the rest of the woodland in his name, buy the woodland his sister owned, merge the two under his name, then pass it all back to her. Or he could just buy the government's woodland, keep it in his name, and just let her manage his land for him with hers.

Chapter 309 - Myriad Changes

Claude was happy about Angelina's growth. The fearful little crybaby had finally grown up. She now weathered the storms of life alone, taking care of her family as she did so. She had matured into an independent woman. She had not just advanced by leaps and bounds in magic, but also handled problems so well she left nearly no flaws.

Even Claude wasn't confident he could deal with Maria's children better than Angelina had. Even though she stumbled a little when it came to the woodland purchases, that could only be attributed to her relative inexperience and ignorance that buying public woodland required dignitarian status. In fact, she had thought through the whole thing rather well. Purchasing the woodland would indeed be a great help to her magic training. At the very least, it was far more convenient than it was in this mansion.

"Also, Anna, have you managed to get certification as a beginner herbalist?" Claude wondered as he saw the rows of apparati lined up on the table by the window.

She nodded. "I did during the test held in Baromiss during the 11th month last year. Only 10 out of 247 test takers managed to pass. Not only was I ranked eighth, I was also the youngest of them all."

Now, he couldn't help but admit that his sister was a genius. As far as herbalism was concerned, she was far superior to him. What he wasn't aware of was the fact that the mansion's gates were almost trampled to the ground by the hordes of suitors asking for her hand in marriage. Even Borkal's father, Rublier, felt like making a move on behalf of his son. It was only after seeing Angelina turn all those offers down that he put that notion to rest.

"Haven't you thought about opening your own apothecary then?"

She shook her head and said, "If I do, I would be tied down there every day. There are enough apothecaries in Whitestag, four in total, so I'm not itching to join the fray. I'm currently making concoctions at home and selling them to those apothecaries at a low price, an arrangement that they're satisfied with. When there's a trade voyage coming up, the merchants would come to me and order a batch of concoctions. I'm able to make lots of money from that alone."

Claude pointed at the small apparati. "Don't tell me you used those to make the concoctions. They're only for use in urgent times. The quality of concoctions made using those aren't that good. If you use alchemy to make potions, on the other hand, you'll be outed as a magus."

Angelina giggled and said, "I'm not stupid enough to sell potions. Actually, I made ten bottles potions and diluted them with three bottles of distilled water and mixed them up with that stirrer to make 13 bottles of good-quality concoctions. That's why my concoctions are greatly received in the city. I also limited the scope of production to make others think I spent lots of care and attention to make concoctions that good."

Claude was speechless and could only shoot her a thumbs-up. She no longer needed him to worry about her and had thought about the matters more deeply than he ever could. His only regret was that he didn't think of the same method in the past. He couldn't sell his perfect-quality concoctions, essentially potions, and had to rely on hunting for materials for his experiments.

"Umm... Claude, there's another bad news which I'm not sure I should tell you about..." she said with some hesitance.

"Tell me. What kind of bad news?"

"Umm... Normanley Real Estate closed down. Your shares in the company only sold for around four hundred crowns in the end."

"Huh?" Claude was flabbergasted. "The company collapsed? Didn't you say there's about 100 thousand crowns in profits after the construction of the base? Didn't Butler Rodan buy up the land east of the city for development? How did he run the whole place down?"

He soon knew why after Angelina explained it to him. Normanley Real Estate's predicament was so bad that its collapse was almost inevitable. Initially, the whole venture worked out because of the advantage offered by Maria's early access to information that the navy would be constructing a base in Whitestag.

So, they went on buying up land in the slums and made them collaterals for even more loans to buy up more land. They then planned out the development of the whole sector and built a few sample buildings to catch the eye of the navy. That caused the navy to book the rest of the land the company was planning to develop and pay them in advance, relieving the financial woes of the company.

They had the luxury of being in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing, and developing just the right product for the right customer, leading to the generation of an unparalleled amount of wealth. Rodan, on the other hand, wanted to replicate that success, but he had forgotten a few key factors.

Back then, Claude convinced Maria to use Normanley Wood's 460 plus hectares of land as collateral for a 20-thousand-crown loan, invest the money in buying up the slums, and use the purchased land as collateral for even more loans. They managed to raise around 50 thousand crowns that way and had more than enough to construct sample buildings.

However, the land Rodan purchased at the east of town belonged to the city administration and was sold at a really high price. After getting the deeds for the land, they also had to be flattened before any construction work could be done, requiring far more work and funds than developing the slums. Back then, Claude managed to save lots of spending on building material by harvesting them for buildings that were torn down, yet Rodan started off on land with nothing on it. All the other things required more and more spending.

So, by the time Rodan had the land flattened and the irrigation set up, the company had practically run out of money. That was when he tried to raise more funds by using the land as collateral, which was his second mistake. Back then, Claude had been targeting the navy as buyers, and Rodan still wasn't aware to whom he would be selling the new area, or whether they'd even buy property in that new area.

If Fenix had not come to monopolise trade there, many other smaller businesses would've continued to flock to the city, leading to more new folk needing places to stay. Had that happened, Rodan might've gotten enough buyers. At the very least, the company wouldn't be making a loss.

Alas, Fenix's meddling in Whitestag kept the smaller businesses out of intercontinental trade and caused Whitestag to lose its allure. By the time the new sector was completed, there was nobody left to buy the high-priced property there, causing that area to become a ghost town.

"During the 5th month last year, Rodan was so disgruntled that he negotiated with Mayor Felidos and sold that area to Whitestag's administration. That would be where the newly transferred bureaucrats would live. It sold for only a third of what it cost to develop the place. After paying out the debt and owed salaries, the company was left with less than five thousand crowns.

"Rodan crestfallenly announced the closing of the company and said he would return to serve his lady as her butler. All the other investors received part of the money that's left, with your share being around 400 crowns. I saved them money i the account you gave me," she explained.

Turning more than 100 thousand crowns into little more than five thousand was no doubt a huge blow for Rodan and Maria. Claude shook his head and thought that this wasn't how real estate should be done in Aueras. Without an opportune moment and a target buyer, trying to replicate Claude's success like Rodan wanted to was only a fool's errand.

"So the builders Uncle Thomas was put in charge of were all disbanded?" That was what Claude was most concerned with. It was fine if the company collapsed, but it would be a real shame if his efficient construction team was disbanded because of that.

"You should address him as Sir Thomas now, you know. Don't forget that he's a member of the lower council." Though she said that, she referred to Thomas as 'uncle' as well. "During the forced conscription two years ago, most of the workers had been enlisted. Only around 300 of them remain, all experienced technicians.

"When the company closed down, the investors formed a new construction company and those technicians became contractors. They formed three engineering teams with the technicians and got quite a lot of jobs through Uncle Thomas. Even though they don't earn that much like before, it's enough to keep the company running.

"Uncle Thomas told me that this was the plan you told him about before you left for the army. As long as he could keep the workforce, he would have a huge influence in town and that would prove useful for his elections. Also, our family also has a stake in this new company. We invested 150 crowns in Bloweyk's name."

Claude nodded. Thomas did well, considering that he remembered what he was told from way back then. Even after the collapse of the company, they could still form a construction firm. If Rodan could've run the company that way, it might not have collapsed and they could've gotten even more job contracts from the administration. It was too bad that he could no longer be satisfied with normal jobs after tasting the sublime feeling of their breakout success, only to fail and leave Whitestag with a heavy heart.

"Oh, and what's with Uncle Pegg watching our door?" Claude only just recalled seeing Uncle Pegg the first thing he returned.

Angelina shook her head and sighed.

"Claude, you don't know how many labour camps there are in Whitestag now... There are more than thirty of them. I suspect almost all labour camps in the kingdom are transferred here. Crime is rampant in the city and it's getting more and more unsafe. Two years ago, two criminals snuck onto the first floor next door and almost scared Madam Wenderson to death. We had no choice but to get Uncle Thomas to help us hire someone to construct that wall around the mansion so that the other tenants feel safe. It's our land anyway.

"As for Uncle Pegg..." Angelina's face grew stern. "Do you still remember your childhood playmate, Eriksson?"

"Of course. He turned against our whole family after his father disappeared, right? I didn't have any contact with him since we graduated. Did something happen to him?"

"It's best you don't tell others you know him." Angelina didn't seem to be joking. "The second year since you joined the army, Eriksson also enlisted, but in the navy instead. During the 4th month last year, he roused others to commit mutiny and commandeered one class-2 warship belonging to Storm and turned to piracy. Currently, his bounty is as high as 850 crowns and there's even a wanted poster of him at the entrance of the naval base."

"How could that happen?!" Claude was stupefied. Eriksson, at his age, had become a pirate! He was no older than Claude! The navy wasn't like the army either. Seniority played a huge role in the navy and with the short time he served, probably scrubbing the decks day in and out, it was hard to imagine he managed to incite a mutiny. It was practically impossible.

"It's true. Everyone in Whitestag knows that. Not only that, he was daring enough to take advantage of the navy's ignorance of his mutiny to return and dock at the base during the night to rob it of its supplies, taking another two long-distance transport ships with him. He also ferried away his mother and the families of the other soldiers who defected with him.

"Even when he left with all three ships, the ones watching the canal leading to the open seas even thought he was on a special mission and allowed him passage. It was only the next day that they found the guards of the warehouses tied up that they found out about the mutiny. Six senior officers of the base were punished for that and it became the greatest mark of shame for Storm fleet."

"What about Uncle Pegg?"

"He refused to join Eriksson and become a pirate. Ever since the pier was sold, he served as their family's servant. During the night Eriksson came back for his mother, he was tied up in his room after he refused to join. After he was detained, investigated, and proven innocent, he was let out and had nowhere to return to. It so happened that our wall just finished construction, so I hired him to guard it."

Claude nodded. "You did well."

"And... and there's one more thing..." she said, seeming really embarrassed and fearful, "Claude... Last year, I... I... killed two people..."

Chapter 310 - Kills and Magic Accessories

"Kill? Who... who did you kill?" he asked, shocked.

"I don't know them. They look like newcomers to Whitestag. I met them in the mountains and they should've been hunting, given the muskets they were carrying."

"Did you silence them because they discovered your magic?"

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I was picking herbs. Lady Maria hadn't yet returned for her vacation. I went to the mountains without much preparation since I was just going to pick the herbs nearby. I ran into the two there. I thought they were just passing by but they pretended to ask me directions, then leapt at me and tried to pull me deeper into the forest. They screamed all things fowl as they did. I was terrified for a moment, then fired two Magic Missiles at them and killed both."

"They deserved it! You did good!"

So the two had seen her alone and had thought she was vulnerable. He almost felt pity for them. It was worse than tragic to have designs on his sister, even in his absence.

"When I realised what I'd done, I started shivering. I was absolutely terrified of being discovered. I didn't go back until nightfall and made sure to dump the corpses off a cliff. The corpses were discovered a fortnight later, but they'd been mauled by wild animals so badly nobody could even recognise them, nevermind the magic holes in their chests. The constables decided they'd been caught and killed by wild animals."

Claude admired his sister's courage. Though her body was frail, it was driven by an iron heart. Not to mention that she'd passed her test despite her anguish. Claude wondered if he was capable of the same. It had been her first kill, after all. The heart didn't care about whether the dead deserved it or not, it knew only that its owner had killed. He couldn't think of another girl her age that would not have lost her sanity had she experienced it.

He stroked her hair. She leaned into him for a hug. Powerful magus or not, she was still a young woman, a girl, really. Her shoulders shuddered as the weight of her murder fell off them. They'd weighed her down for a year, but the person she trusted most in all the world had returned, so they had no more grip on her.

"I'm glad I taught you magic when I did. Things would have turned out differently had I not," Claude said as he let her go, "I can't imagine how sad Mother and Blowk would have been. And how would I have taken it, if at all, had I lost you? The bastards can't blame anyone but themselves. If they'd not run into you, some other girl might've suffered. Don't feel bad about killing them. They were animals in human skin. I don't think my tough little sister will lose sleep or her appetite over killing two animals. And you're in no danger now. The constables have closed the case, so no one is coming for you."

"U-uhm... do your kills haunt you?" she asked, lifting her gaze to his eyes.

"No," he said, shaking his head resolutely, "I can't afford to think about them. Didn't I tell you how I killed a few Blacksnake thugs in the slums after learning magic? Surely you've heard of how beastly these people are. I don't feel no pity for them. I was cleaning up Whitestag's trash.

"It was also kill or be killed in the war. I killed to survive. I bore no hatred for my enemy. It was simply my duty as a soldier. Soldiers are swords. They're made to kill and are failures if they don't. Blame the generals for the war and its deaths, not grunts like me."

Claude patted her shoulder.

"Alright, you can let go now. Aren't you embarrassed about hugging me despite being a grown woman?"

"What do you mean..." his little sister asked as she pushed him away shyly.

"I haven't shown you the goodies I bought from Efenasburg's black market yet, have I?" he asked, changing the subject.

He'd just remembered that he hadn't given her the magic items yet. If he was going to leave them at home, only she could take care of them. He couldn't afford to take them with him to the college.

A couple tightly wrapped boxes stood in the room's corner. Apart from newspaper stuffings and crumpled rags, the first box had a transparent crystal ball about sixteen centimetres across.

Claude removed it gingerly and put it on his bed.

"Don't you think it's funny the merchant treated this appraisal crystal like a child's toy? He put it together with a couple wooden figurines. I got it for a crown. The ball's so big I didn't bother to haggle."

Angelina held the ball up curiously and infused it with some mana. It glowed a kaleidoscope of colours.

"Stop playing. We're magi already, so there's no reason to test our affinity. It's only good for testing children who haven't started training yet. Do you remember how Landes passed his affinity test? They used a crystal ball much like this one.

"I only bought it to test whether Blowk has magic talent. You said he couldn't see the blue text in the cookbook, but he might just have been too young at the time. He's fourteen now, so we'll test him next year. If he has a talent for magic, and he's mature enough, we can let him decide."

Claude opened another box.

Angelina stowed the ball.

"Alright."

Claude retrieved a most oddly shaped staff. A couple emeralds dotted its surface.

"This is a magus' staff. The merchant I bought it from thought it was a noble's sceptre. Those are normally made of gold or silver, however. I've never heard of one made of bone. I think this should be an heirloom from a noble family. Spells cast with it should be a third more powerful and a third less taxing on your mana."

It was a priceless treasure. Staves like that had become rarer and rarer over the years as the continent's magic resources had dried up. The production of magus' staves had ceased with their destruction, and the intervening centuries had whittled their number further.

"You can have it. It would be best to hide it. You could attach the tip of a tool, maybe a hoe, to it. Wrap the rest in cloth. It wouldn't be strange for your to own a hoe; you're growing herbs, after all," he suggested.

His sister toyed lovingly with the staff for a moment, then tried casting a couple spells.

"But, Claude, wouldn't it affect the staff's properties?"

"I don't know about that. Just experiment," he said irresponsibly as he removed five thick beastskin books from another box.

"I suspect these tomes come from the same noble family. They probably have something to do with Siklos."

"Are they knowledge tomes?"

"Shouldn't be. I think they're more like historical records. They detail the recollections of a magus from Siklos of how the mundane folk chased the magi off from Freia 600 years ago. Naturally, his view on the matter is different from ours and he believed the magi were tricked by the mundane nobles into forming their musket troops, which were later used to rebel against the magi.

"It turned out later that some dissidents among the magi were in cahoots with the mundane folk all along. The resistance exploited the magi's carelessness by using transporting magical supplies to the holy land of magic, Symposium, to destroy the transference formation in the sky-piercing tower there. That severed the connection between our world and the Kenpus plane and completely extinguished any hope the magi had to restore the magic civilisation to its former glory with the materials from the higher plane.

"That's why the author curses them as the devil's weaponry. They are the only things mundane folk can use to oppose the lofty magi. In the second book, he writes about the battle in which Symposium was lost. The five-ring battlemagi all flew high up into the skies to prepare for battle, only to be shot down by mundane gunners like they were hunting ducks. Even after they blasted away at the shooters with fireballs and lightning strikes, the surviving shooters continued to return fire.

"The gunners' rapid volleys covered quite a large area and even the five-ring battlemagi weren't able to defend themselves from those barrages. They fell one by one from the skies and were turned into meat paste from the fall. After those five-ring battlemagi fell, the rune magi became helpless sheep and were helpless before the gunners' bayonets. One after another, they were slaughtered in their rooms, their labs, and the tower--"

"I don't like such books."

"Keep them anyway. They provide a first-hand account of magic's history. They can teach us many lessons."

The rest of the items were small accessories which he prepared for her.

"Why did you buy them for? I'm not used to wearing accessories," she said.

"These are magic accessories. There are mini magic formations engraved on them," Claude explained, "Even if you don't like them, you can conduct some research on them. Take this pair of earrings for example. They're called Eavesdroppers. You can listen to conversations from far away with them on and they're absolutely godly items for noblewomen who thrive on gossip and feed off private conversations.

"The ruby on this necklace, on the other hand, is engraved with a calming formation. Put it on when you meditate. I'm sure it'll be much more effective. Then we have these two bracelets engraved with protective spells. One of them has Thorn Wreath. When activated, you can push people pestering you one metre away. The other has Paralyze. Activating it can paralyse a person or animal in contact with you.

"Even though these two spells only last a few short seconds, they might just save your life in times of crisis. I was also thinking of getting you to research whether you can reverse engineer the magic formations on these accessories into normal spell formations we can cast directly."

It now occurred to Angelina that Claude didn't buy the accessories for their value themselves. He was more interested in the spell engravings on them. Those spells were those that he hadn't gotten his hands on yet and this might turn out to be a new method through which he could collect spells.

Instead of trying to construct magic formation for a new spell from scratch, it might be much safer and easier to reverse engineer them off the spell engravings. Making one without any reference required repeated trial and error to get the ideal size and proportion for the diagrams and the slightest imbalance could cause mana backflow and great harm to oneself.

Reversing engineering spell formation diagrams through engravings would be much easier. One only had to copy the engraving onto another object and the underlying principles behind the formation would be more or less clear. Activating a formation like that with one's own mana would most likely result in success.

"Got it. I'll research them well," she said as she kept them away. "What will you be doing tomorrow?"

"Hmm, I'll be out the whole day to visit Mayor Felidos, Uncle Thomas and the others. I have to greet those who still keep in touch or I'll be chewed out for being cold and distant." He was quite annoyed about that and would rather sleep in at home. It was too bad his extermination of the bandits caused the whole town to be made aware of his return. It wouldn't do for him to skip the visits.

"Then take off your uniform. I'll have them washed and dried so you can wear them for your visit tomorrow and look proper," Angelina said.

"It's getting late and you should rest. My uniform doesn't look dirty yet so it can still be worn tomorrow."

"No, it's definitely dirty. You just have to look closer. I'll use spells to wash them clean and it won't take long. Quick," she hurried.

"Alright, fine. Whatever you say." He had no choice but to hand her his uniform. Though he brought along another set with him, it was much older than the one he currently wore.

After Angelina left, he collapsed in his bed like a log. It had been five years since he last set foot in this house and the sensation of lying in bed was a welcome and assuring one. It didn't take long before he drifted off.

Chapter 311 - Visits

Claude felt something touch his face. In his waking haze, he reached out and felt a smooth palm. He wondered who had desturbed his sleep. After much effort, he opened his eyes a slit and saw a beauty sitting by his bed, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

What was going on? Was he not home? Who was the gorgeous woman? She look familiar... A long moment of intense confusion passed, and he suddenly remembered he had gone to sleep in the nude. Baring one's body to a stranger, especially one of the opposite sex, was exceedingly rude. He let go of the wrist and grasped at his sheets.

The beauty leapt into his bed the moment he let go, however, and was under the sheets before he could grab them, hugging him tightly.

"I've missed you, Claude!" she sobbed, "The wargod has blessed you! You returned home unharmed!"

Ah, Kefnie, the thought came as his mind started working again. He relaxed and returned the hug.

"I told you I'd be back. Stop crying. Why are you here so early? I was planning to visit later today."

The girl looked at him, tears still staining her cheeks.

"Jerad told Sis last night that One-eyed Lambak's band's was taken out by three soldiers returning from the war. I just knew it had to be you. If I had heard earlier, I would've been here yesterday."

"What time is it?"

"It's not early. I fed my little niece before I came. The sun's already already halfway up into the sky. Auntie said you were still sleeping and she didn't want to wake you so I came up to wake you u--mmhhf!"

Claude planted a kiss on her still-moving lips and shot his tongue into her. It tangled with hers, bending it to his will as he tasted her, deeply, deeper than he had ever before. He shivered as she sighed a moan into his mouth and slumped against him, surrendering to his lust, letting him have his way with her, his hands beginning their ravenous, arousing exploration of the young body he'd not violated in five years.

The end of the 6th month's weather was stuffy. Claude slept naked, covered only by a sparse selection of sheets. Kefnie wore nothing but a loose dress, slight underwear hiding beneath. Her clothes were a mess before his hands had gotten to work, now they were in shambles. His little friend was on morning parade, brought to even stiffer attention by the two bodies that rubbed against it on both sides. The thought of ravaging the girl beyond recognition right then and there flitted across his mind, which had already relinquished more than half its ration of blood and oxygen to his little friend, but the door knocked.

It sent Kefnie flying off the bed, her hands instinctively patting down her ruined dress. She didn't even notice the mixture of their saliva running down her chin and clinging to the bottom of her jaw. It dried quickly on her hot, flushed skin, however.

Claude sighed in frustration. What damn fool was being so bloody inconsiderate? And he'd just found the edge of her dress and was ready to start pulling it out of the way!

"Come in," he said, not trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

"I hope you two weren't in the middle of something. I would hate to have interrupted you," Angelina's voice came ahead of her as she opened the door and poked her head through the gap, "Mom said it's time you got out of bed. You have to visit the mayor and Uncle Thomas. It won't be polite to go any later. I have your uniform. Hey Kefnie. I hope my brother wasn't doing anything indecent... Why's your face so red?"

Claude sighed unhappily. He'd forgotten he had an appointment with the two men today. Whilst they'd not arranged a specific time, such meetings were always done early in the morning if there was a choice, and he'd appear tardy if he went too late. He desperately wanted to shoo his nosy little sister away and get back to a man's business with his woman, but he owed the mayor a timely visit. The man was responsible for his entry into the army in the timely fashion and to the fortunate unit he had.

"Enough. Give it to me. It's just hot in here, that's all," he rattled off the phrases without looking at his sister, trying to keep his own face from turning tomato as well.

Angelina rolled her eyes, but handed over his uniform without protest.

"Don't think I don't know what you were up to!" she chided.

Claude ignored her, putting on his white shirt carelessly. He straightened it once it was on his body, then stepped into his black pants. It slid up his muscular legs without issue and he fastened it over the shirt with a strip of leather with a simple but immaculately polished silver buckle. He slipped his feet, which had finally begun looking like feet again, rather than the mass of blisters they'd been for years while out on campaign, into grey socks and then into black boots, both polished to a sheen equal to his buckle. He swung a hard, heavy coat over his shoulders, fixed his shirt's collar, slapped at his sleeves to make sure no dust was on them, and finally plopped his cap on his head unceremoniously before tidying it into its proper place.

He stood then, a dashing, handsome -- if somewhat weary-eyed -- soldier, in front of the two girls.

"You don't clean up too badly," Angelina said with equal measures of tease and pride.

Kefnie stared at him, her jaw thoroughly embedded in the floor. She couldn't hide the want rampaging in her eyes, her recovering face crimson again, and her chest -- oh that sumptuous chest -- rising and falling lustily beneath her light, thin dress.

He slipped past the two vultures and splashed his face thoroughly, rinsing his mouth twice, before going downstairs.

"Myjack, bring me two bottles of the finest wine we have."

Myjack knew exactly which two Claude meant. They were a part of his share of spoils from their last battle. They'd been earmarked as gifts for the mayor and Thomas from the moment they'd fallen into his superior's hands.

"Shall we go with you, Sir?" he asked.

"Alright. Prepare the carriage. You're driving."

"What about me?" Gum asked.

"You have study work. You have to know at least three new words when I come back. I won't let you make me a laughingstock at the college because you can't read."

"Sorry, Kefnie," he said, turning to the young woman, "I have to make a few visits. I probably won't be able to see you today."

Kefnie smiled at him.

"It's alright. I've waited five years. I can wait a day more. It's much more important that you came back safely."

"Don't forget to bring up the woodland," Angelina chimed as Claude stepped through the door.

He nodded at her over his shoulder, and walked to the carriage. Myjack was busy fixing the horse. It took him another minute to ready everything, then they were off.

Felidos was waiting in the city halls' reception area for Claude when he arrived. He'd been informed of his return, and of his exploits just outside the city on his way in, the day before. He'd not come to his office this early in months, but today he was here, in meticulously starched and straightened dress, too.

Whitestag was under the capital's direct governance, so it had no designated governor's residence, and no home office. All his official meetings thus had to happen in city hall. He would not have made so much effort had Claude come back a sergeant-major. He'd have invited him for a visit a week or so after his arrival, and the two would have shared only a short time in his office during which time he would have asked after his exploits only in passing, out of required courtesy more than actual interest.

But the boy, no, the young man, had returned a commissioned officer, a captain, and a knight, a petty noble. It was several fold greater than his achievements at the young man's age. On top of that, whilst a minor achievement at best compared to everything else he'd done, but of far more direct interest to Felidos as the city's mayor, he'd casually swatted a band of bandits which had been terrorising the city for months on his way into town.

Felidos knew what the young man's rank and knighthood meant. He'd come up through the military himself and had earned his title on the battlefield as well. He had gone through many of the same experiences as the young man himself in his younger days. He may be a bureaucrat now, but his heart still beat to the marching drums of the company drummers. He would still be in the army if not for his blasted injury. It had robbed him of the many more years he could have had in uniform. He'd redirected that obsession onto promising young ones he met in the course of his duties, however. He flung them at his old corps, hoping a couple would stick. A couple had, but he'd never dreamt any of his recommendations would turn into a shooting star.

Claude had gone from a green recruit, beneath even the lowest rank, to captain in just five years. On top of that he'd snapped a knighthood off the golden tree. His future was beyond bright. The bragging rights this gave him alone were reason enough for the grin that split his face from ear to ear when he saw the young man get off the carriage in front of the city hall.

Every achievement the kid racked up was another feather in Felidos' cap. As the kid's original sponsor, he shared in his ward's glory as much as his ward himself. Then there was the chance to call in his favour when he sent his kids into the army. He could have Claude look after them, or even take them under his wing if he proved capable enough.

Claude saluted the mayor and his entourage of officials as he stepped through the door into the reception area. The mayor returned it, then clapped Claude on the shoulder as he would a comrade. The two had their meeting in his office, the door intentionally left open, and the mayor's laughter echoed down the hallways every now and again.

Claude was unaccustomed to such warm treatment, but he kept a friendly face. He thanked the mayor once he got a chance to speak and presented one of his bottles of wine. It was worth three crowns.

Felidos' smile broadened even further, if such a thing was possible, and he stowed it carefully in his liquor cabinet, locking three different locks up and down the door before returning his attention to Claude. Conversation quickly turned to the war. He delighted in hearing another's war stories, and shared several of his own, the memories jogged loose by one of Claude's accounts or another. He was nearly ecstatic when he heard Claude had been nominated to the new war college.

Claude eventually brought up the matter of woodland, and Felidos nearly fell over himself to get the relevant official working on it immediately. Claude got all the woodland for which he'd asked, and at half the price -- just 30 crowns a hectare.

The land was cheap for the same reason the private woodland had been bought for so few crowns. The trees had been felled, and this time they'd not been replanted yet. Lack of manpower and all that.

Thus only the Ferd family and Baroness Normanley were left as private owners of woodland in the city's immediate vicinity. Normanley Wood was 460 hectares, and the Ferd family's 270 in all.

Claude got up to leave once he had the last of the deeds, but Felidos insisted they share lunch. Claude asked they instead meet up for dinner instead, citing more meetings like that one which still had to be made. Reluctantly, the mayor agreed and the two parted.

Next was Thomas. The man had moved during Claude's absence. He now lived in a building more a big house than a manor, in the city's eastern neighbourhoods. It was just down the road from Sir Fux's old abode.

Thomas welcomed him as warmly as the mayor had, but unlike the mayor, he treated Claude as one did a nephew. He had worked with his father on the trade route, and had known Claude right out of his mother's womb. He'd wished to step in on their behalf during their troubles with Sir Fux, and even more so after Claude's father's death, but he had been too slow. By the time he'd gathered up his resources and prepared himself for the long war against the councillor, the man was dead. Not long after, Claude launched the real estate agency with the baroness and there was no reason to help them anymore.

The townsfolk were almost angry when Felidos had sent their resident genius to the wolves in the army, Thomas especially, since he was being left with the business. The kid had left him some excellent advice, however, and, following it, he'd kept things going smoothly, and had even gotten himself elected to the council.

He trusted Claude implicitly, and was overjoyed to hear of his exploits and accolades.

Their talk didn't linger on Claude's battlefield experiences, however. It turned quickly to the business, and Thomas hammered the boy with questions over lunch.

Chapter 312 - Marriage

Claude had never imagined he would have to make rounds all over the city for meetings with associates. First there was Felidos' invitation, then Thomas' and Rublier's, not to mention his father's ten-odd associates from his efforts on the trade route.

He attended banquet after banquet every night for the next three weeks, four of them at Felidos' invitation, though he didn't host them all. Claude had become his default second. He was the poster child Felidos paraded in front of everyone he knew and might have met at some point.

The bandits' bounty paid out a week after he arrived in the city. Five hundred crowns. Myjack and Gum each got a hundred, but refused intently, insisting Claude take it all. Coupled with the gifts he received as thanks from the merchants whose merchandise he'd returned, he made back all the money he'd spent in Efenasburg.

The home front was far from quiet. Angelina got to work the moment she had the deeds for the woodland. She dragged Claude's minions along on her daily visits as she drew up a detailed map of her new land.

Claude planned to stay home for the rest of his leave. Perhaps even lock himself in the house once all the banquets were finished. Unfortunately he didn't know when that would be, if it ever happened. He needed peace and quiet, and, most of all, alone time to focus on his magic training. He couldn't fall even further behind his little sister. He had an older brother's pride to keep, after all.

Landes wrote in his diary that it took him seven years to become a four-ring rune magus. Angelina had been studying for just five years and was about to become a three-ring one. Claude, on the other hand, had barely firmed his position with his first ring, and he couldn't put all the blame on his military service. At least a third of his lack of progress was due to his own sloth.

Things never went as planned, however. He was having dinner, the last banquet finally had, when his mother decided it was time for the talk.

"It's time you settled things with Kefnie. Neither of you are young anymore. You have enough time before you have to head off again, so I've spoken to the priests, and your wedding will be on the 12th of the 9th month."

Kefnie didn't speak. She sat, ever the obedient daughter-in-law, her head lowered to hide as much of her blush as she could.

Claude desperately wanted to protest. How could she say he wasn't young anymore? He was only 24! He swallowed the words, however. This was not Earth. Living to forty was an achievement in its own right, getting married only then was to risk being called infirm. Most marriages happened when the pair turned 18, and were arranged long before then. Marriage used to happen much earlier, at around the time puberty hit, but the kingdom had decided those under 18 should focus on being trained and educated until they hit that new arbitrary age.

Kefnie was less than a year Claude's junior. Being unmarried at her age, and not a widow, made her desperately old.

His heart was far from resigned, but he had little choice. He did not want to disappoint his mother, who'd long since already decided that Kefnie was his wife. He could do anything he wanted, but once his mother spoke on the matter of marriage, he had no say in the matter. He had a better chance of becoming a god than getting out of this now. He did also feel some obligation to meet the girl's expectations. She had waited five years for him, after all. He also supposed he couldn't just walk away, leaving her empty handed, after he'd deflowered her. He might not see her much for the coming years, so he could at least leave her with a ring on her finger, and his mother would appreciate the extra set of hands around the house.

His heart belonged to Sheila, of course. He could not think of anything Kefnie could do, beautiful as she might be, and submissive and obedient between the sheets as she might be, to change that. Sheila had stolen his heart and he didn't even want to try to take it back. That said, the two could never be together for the same reasons he loved her so. She was utterly dedicated to magic. As much as her heart belonged to him, her soul belonged to the forest and the magic that dwelt within it.

Claude wanted a family of his own at some point, and Kefnie was both able and willing to give him one. A ring was a worthwhile price to pay. He would give her money, a home, security, and ecstasy like she had never known, and she would give him sexual release, children, and a clean house and a decked table to which to return after his campaigns. A good arrangement; a better one than most people had, at least.

He knew at least half of his mother's sudden determination to see him wedded before he left was that he was no longer a bland country boy. He was a quasi-noble, a young, rising star with a bright future. Not to mention a gorgeous uniform. He had options now he could not have dreamt of before he'd left home. If she didn't chain him down now, he might just come home with some other woman, one his mother had not vetted, and would probably find wanting. She liked Kefnie, and had decided she would be Claude's wife. He would thus be a wedded man before he left, whether he wanted to or not, and he would have no chance to play around with the ladies of the social circles in which he now moved.

There was also the angle of his mother's affection for Kefnie. She was doing this as much for her as for Claude. She was 23 -- would soon be 24 -- she was at the tail end of her marriageable years. She still lived with her sister, who had two children, with a third on the way. The house had no room for her anymore, love her as her sister might. While they would never ask her to move out, Kefnie knew they were beginning to feel most uncomfortable with her in their modest little home in addition to all their children.

The matter was thus settled. They had a month and a half to prepare and Claude's mother was anxious to get to work -- though she'd already gotten started.

Newlyweds usually moved into a house close to the husband's family, on the same piece of land if possible, else into a house on the same block, preferably within eyeshot of the parents'. None of the houses nearby were for sale, however, and all three the brick building's suites were bound in contract for at least the rest of the year.

The woodland had been considered as well, but they'd have to build a house, and that wouldn't be done until probably the same time the following year.

She'd wondered if they should move into an apartment and leave the family suite to the newlyweds, but she knew Claude would not have it. He may be the man in the family, but he was only regent. He was no longer part of the main family; he was only looking after them until Bloweyk came of age and stepped into his rightful position as head of the household. Even now, however, he was patriarch of the household in name only. Angelina was the true ruler under this roof and it would not do to chase her out, even with her wholehearted consent, of their childhood home on Claude, a non-household-member's, count.

Not to mention that he would not be there for much longer, and would then be gone for who knew how long, years at the very least. Claude wanted her to live with his mother and siblings. He was marrying her at least partially to be a set of hands around his mother's house, after all, and she would fit that role best while living in with them. She would already be a great help, and his mother was getting no younger, fast.

The biggest reason behind his sister's purchase of the woodland was his mother, after all. She needed land to grow the herbs needed for her mother's ongoing treatments. The old woman was beginning to suffer more and more from more and more old-age illnesses, and the herb bill was growing. They didn't lack money, of course, but some of the herbs were difficult to come by. The fresh air, and freedom from social worries like gossiping neighbours, would do her good as well. Angelina hated the gossip most of all.

The discussion continued while he was lost in his thoughts. His attention returned to it and he suggested they set up his room like a small apartment, which the two would use until his departure.

His mother and sister threw the book at him. He was about to be married, and that came with certain... essential nightly duties, which neither of them wanted to have to hear when they were trying to sleep. Not to mention that the most important gift a husband gave his bride was their first home, the space for their new life together, for them, and them alone.

Kefnie, though she would never say a negative word, could not hide the disappointment in her eyes. It saddened her that Claude was treating the matters related to their marriage so lightly. That he was so casual about such important things did not bode well for his seriousness about the marriage itself.

The three women kept biting his ear no matter what he suggested for several hours. He'd hoped he could at least count on his little brother's moral support, but it seemed five years of being the youngest in the house, and the only man, had castrated him. He vanished as soon as his two female masters became animated. Even Claude's two minions, who'd fought impossible battle at his side, who'd not flinched at the face of death, disappeared.

If they were going to have to build a house one way or another, they might as well build it right here.

The old shop lots had been turned suites into suites. Any city that grew as rapidly as Whitestag had over the last five years would suffer trouble with public order, and Whitestag was no exception. The neighbourhood had become quite unsafe, which had prompted Angelina to build a tall, thick wall around the plot. It had rendered the shop lots on the ground floor useless, so they were turned into suites.

There was just enough space still open between the converted mansion and the wall for a rough duplicate of it. Angelina was not thinking small, however. If she was going to build on the plot, she might as well do it properly. They would tear down the wall and build two duplicates of the mansion, all filled with suites and apartments. The family would move to one of the suites, leaving the old family home to the newlyweds, and move back in after Claude left.

Nobody objects, so that settled the matter of accommodation. Claude's mother insisted they take her room, the master bedroom. It was both the best soundproofed, and the biggest, which meant more room for nightly endeavours. In fact, until she and her two children could move out, the couple could have the entire second floor, the big bedroom for them, and the small one next to it for the babies, which she was adamant would arrive within the year if Claude knew what was good for him.

Once they moved back, she would take Arbeit's old room, and Bloweyk would take over the study, which they'd have converted into a normal room. Angelina decided she would remain in their apartment in the new building. The extra space would do her research well, too. If she felt too lonely, she might help Kefnie keep her bed warm, and keep the apartment as her workspace.

Claude, for all this had a direct impact on how the rest of his life would be lived, had said barely anything at all while the discussions took place. He clearly had no place in decided household matters; that was the women's job. And they were all too happy to keep him around only to hear what they decided. They were quick to rope him back into the conversation when it came to designing the buildings, however. The task was all but plopped onto his shoulders with all the lack of ceremony the world could handle.

He first had to decide whether to build two large buildings, or four smaller ones. He was also tasked with designing a renovation for the old mansion. The main building, the one in which the owners of the land lived, could not be upstaged by the rental buildings, after all.

Once that was done, Angelina tasked him with developing a new housing complex on one of the smaller forest plots, and drawing up the preliminary plans for the entire woodland's development.

He could smile only bitterly as his new mistresses ordered him around even more than his superiors back in the army. It seemed his vacation would actually be going to the college, rather than staying at home.

And thus it came to pass that Claude and Kefnie were wedded in the moon goddess' shrine on the 12th of the 9th month, 581.

Chapter 313 - Peddler Donoby

The skies turned dark and black clouds loomed over the horizon. The chilling winds blew through as feather-sized snowflakes danced their way to the ground, covering the flat plains in a thick white coat.

Myjack propped his horse a few steps ahead and blocked Claude, waving a hand signal at him. Some ice had precipitated around his brows and hair and he was wearing a thick mask to stave off the cold, in addition to the hat and shawl he wore. It wasn't convenient to talk in such weather so simple hand signals carried the day.

Claude knew what his orderman was trying to convey: they could not go ahead and had to find shelter and wait out the snow storm.

Claude nodded, pointed ahead, and signed three-and-a-half, pointing at the ground with his thumb. A town lay three and a half kilometres ahead.

It was the 9th of the 1st month. Claude, Myjack, and Gum were on their way to the royal capital. Before their break, Major Skri had told Claude to report to Kleibon right after his break ended before the 15th of the 1st month as that was the day the semester officially began.

Skri showed quite a lot of concern for him and wrote him two letters after he arrived at the royal capital and set up camp. He had someone deliver the letter personally. The first one arrived during the 8th month and informed Claude of the address of the tribe's camp and asked how his break was while also sending him a map with the address of the war college so that Claude wouldn't lose himself in the royal capital.

Claude replied that he was doing well and his family was fine too. He also wished Skri would be able to come to Whitestag to attend his wedding before the 12th of the 9th month. But he didn't receive a reply for that letter even up to the date of his wedding, much to his disappointment. Naturally, Skri wasn't present.

During the middle of the 11th month, Skri sent another reply and apologised for not being able to attend the wedding. He didn't have a choice as he was asked to go on an excursion by Prince Hansbach and only returned to the royal capital during the 10th month. Alongside wishing Claude a happy newlywed life, he also informed Claude that he would be resigning as tribesman of 1st Ranger Tribe for another post.

Apart from that, he sent Claude and the other two their winter gear as well as allowance with his authority before his resignation. Usually, soldiers on a break to visit their families like Claude would also have allowance and winter gear, but the logistics department wouldn't be able to deliver it to them as they weren't in camp. Skri was aware of the usual proceedings in the force and used his authority as tribesman to have someone explicitly deliver the three their goods.

Additionally, he also sent Claude a wedding gift. It was a pair of gold and silver vases with intricate artwork depicting a legendary tale of a knight killing an evil dragon. Claude knew that they came from the spoils of the count's manor. He didn't think Skri would be giving them to him, though. Madam Ferd was quite shocked to receive it and all too happy that the family had another heirloom to pass down.

It was thanks to the map Skri provided that Claude realised Kleibon Royal Army College wasn't located in the royal capital, but in one of the 56 villages near it, Kleibon Village. The map showed the village to be at the borderlands of Ibnist Plains. Half of the village's farmland crossed over to the mountainous area.

Claude wondered why their college would be situated in a village and even be named after it. Either way, since he had received a notification, the three of them would have to report there before the 15th.

It took around seven to eight days to travel from Whitestag to the royal capital. Given that it was winter, much of the highways were frozen and hard to traverse. With that factored in, the journey was estimated to take more than ten days. Coupled with the fact that Kleibon Village was another 40-odd kilometers from the royal capital, that would take an additional day. So, Claude prepared to leave right after the new year's celebration.

Initially, he considered going there by sea from Whitestag to Port Neru. That would take two days off their journey at least. But his mother didn't agree as maritime travel came with quite substantial risks and there was nowhere to run in the event of danger. Apart from that, not a single ship was willing to sail out from the city during the new year's unless Claude was willing to pay a huge sum, which wouldn't be worth it.

It ended with him settling on traveling by land. They had to set out latest by the 3rd. After bidding his mother, sister and brother farewell and kissing his newly pregnant bride goodbye, Claude left with Myjack and Gum on horse.

The start of the journey was blessed with good weather. The three of them traveled quickly at a leisurely pace and managed to save a day's time since their departure. They thought it would take them seven days at most to rush to the royal capital if the weather conditions stayed the same, but a snowstorm brewed all of a sudden with the passing of a night. The three of them struggled to make any progress for the first half of the day, but they didn't even cover a quarter of what they had planned to.

However, Claude remembered seeing a town on the map not far away from their current position. They traveled for a little more and finally reached the town, got an inn, and slumped on the tables of the dining hall.

The town was called Sulin and it was about the same size as what Whitestag used to be. The inn was called Fang, named after the gigantic beast fang hanging on the walls. It was said to have been dug out of the ground when the inn was first built and the first owner hung it up and named the inn after it.

When the three entered, there was only a few customers inside. Only three tables in the hall were seated and apart from some customers who were there to kill time. The other four at two other tables were dressed like peddlers. It looked like they also had no choice but to lodge thanks to the snowstorm.

The ones attending to the customers was an old fellow and a limp youth. The youth appeared to be the old owner's son and he was instructed to take care of the three's mounts. The old fellow poured the three of them cups of heated blackwheat ale and cracked a bright smile. "Drink some to warm up. It must've been hard, traveling in such weather. Don't worry, they're on the house."

There were four braziers at the four corners of the hall and it was much warmer inside. The cup of blackwheat ale finally warmed the three up from inside out. They stood up and removed their black goatskin robes, beastskin windbreakers and leather gloves to reveal the red-black military uniform beneath. It was only then that the owner knew that the three were soldiers.

"Boss, one cup of blackwheat ale for each of them. My treat," a rough-looking peddler said as he raised a cup at them. "Don't worry, friends, I used to be in the force and had to be discharged for my injury. I'm just looking out for a fellow brave warrior of our kingdom!"

The other customers raised their mugs to join the toast. "To the brave warriors of our kingdom's invincible army!"

The owner poured the three another cup of warmed ale each. Claude didn't think twice before gulping it down. Then, he dropped a thale on the table. "Boss, one cup of ale for everyone here, my treat. Let's toast to the darned snowstorm that allowed us to meet here! I guess fate comes in all forms! No need for any change. Just cook us some warm food to fill us up. I'm famished."

The burley merchant tapped the table in agreement to Claude. "Nicely said. This snowstorm truly is darned. I would've reached home had it not come. My poor wife will surely be letting her mind wander and think I was seduced by some other woman. If I don't go home on time, she would start to overthink things. I wonder how hard it will be for me to calm her down when I get back..."

His other merchant pals broke out in laughter. "What are you? A wuss who's afraid of your wife?"

The atmosphere in the inn livened up immediately.

The owner picked the thale up with a bright smile and served the other patrons their ale, before telling Claude to wait a bit for their food.

After finishing two cups of ale, Myjack and Gum stretched their bodies and unfurled some cloth to remove their muskets before they started maintaining them. It was crucial to keep a musket in good working order in cold conditions. The serpentine, gunstock and flash pan could easily freeze and they had to be constantly checked to ensure they're in working condition.

The burly merchant on the other hand seemed rather curious. He came over to look at the guns and asked, "What mission are you guys on?"

Claude shook his head. "We're going to report for duty after our family visit."

"That doesn't sound right. I thought soldiers weren't allowed to bring their weapons along on family visits."

Claude burst out in laughter at the question he was asked all too often at home. "We're not just average soldiers of the army. We're from 1st Ranger Tribe and we must carry our muskets with us constantly until they become extensions of our bodies. These are precise-shooting guns and we are expected to hit our mark from a set distance. So, all soldiers have to be familiar with the quirks of their own muskets as a minimum requirement."

"I see." The peddler nodded. "I seem to have heard of your unit before. Oh, are you the ones who are stationed near Kristo in the royal capital? I happen to be on a return trip for a delivery there. I heard a ranger corps is currently being formed."

Kristo was one of the four citadels of the royal capital. Skri mentioned in his first letter to Claude that all four ranger tribes were stationed there and the corps would be formed there as well.

Claude nodded. "Oh, you've been there?"

"That's right. I was there for a delivery. At the end of last year, an order was placed for us at the town of Greatwood and we only barely managed to rush there within the deadline. Fortunately, the snowstorm only occurred on our return trip. Otherwise, we would have to pay astronomical sums in reparations," said the burley peddler carefreely.

At that moment, the owner came to serve large plates of food. Claude didn't doubt that the peddler would continue to ramble on about his stories if not for the owner's interruption.

The dishes weren't that great. They were served normal white bread, honeyed wine, potato and beef stew, roasted chicken and grilled steak. It was enough to fill their stomachs. When he finished, Claude went outside to look at the skies. The clouds were still looming over them and the snowstorm might last another two to three days.

That meant that they might not be able to make it to the college in time. Being held back for three days wasn't really the issue. It was travelling on the snow-covered roads that would be the problem. The date was currently the 9th and it would be the 11th if they spent two days there. Had Kleibon been located in the royal capital itself, three days would be enough for them to make it. But it was in the other direction and they still had to continue traveling after reaching the royal capital. That made their schedule really tight.

"You want to go to Kleibon Village?" The burly peddler came over to their table once more when the three were looking at the map troubledly. He seemed to have been listening in to their discussion.

"That's right. We're going to be trained there," Claude replied.

"Oh, Kleibon Royal Army College, right?"

"How do you know about it?" Claude asked with his guard up.

"Haha, nobody but I, Donoby, know the four city sectors, nine towns and 56 villages near the royal capital better! That's where I carry out my trade, you see. You might not know this, but the wooden furniture we produce in Greatwood are highly sought after in the whole of Ibnist Plains. Apart from the rich nobles, everyone in the villages love the furniture our town produces."

The peddler who introduced himself as Donoby continued on a long boast. "During the 11th month last year, I sent a batch of office furniture to Kleibon Village. The college was the one making the purchase. I was wondering why they were building a college in a village. To think that I'd actually meet someone going there... Now, I understand that it's to train military officers like you."

Since the man was in the know, Claude asked him with a sense of hope, "The snowstorm has delayed our journey. We might not be able to reach Kleibon before the 15th. Mister Donoby, do you know any route we may take to reach the village sooner?"

The peddler cracked a smile. "There is one that will only take you two days to reach Kleibon Village."

Chapter 314 - Lieutenant Manrique

Ibnist was one of the largest and most fertile plains in Eastern Freia. In Ancient Hez, Ibnist meant 'land of the light', though an alternate meaning was also 'fertile land under the sun'. In countless works of literature, it was described as a place full of sunlight where one could harvest rivers of honey -- a land blessed by mother nature.

After Aueras' founder, Stellin I, conquered Ibnist, he decided the royal capital would be built there to give the kingdom the foundation it needed to thrive. The capital was completed during Stellin III's reign, nearly eighty years after construction started. Even such a timescale could not do the scale of the project justice.

Whilst the largest work was indeed finished during Stellin III's reign, minor work, such as renovations and reworks of older parts of the project continued without halt well into the seventh monarch's years on the throne. Even so, the city only became recognised as one of the continent's four great capitals two generations later, during Stellin IX's reign. It also stood as the largest human settlement in the eastern half of the continent, with a population over a million.

The capital covered the whole of what had once been known as Ibnist. All of the region's once four separate citadels, nine towns, and 56 villages were now part of one great metropolis. Despite its size, however, the capital suffered few, if any, of the shortages so common in big cities. Careful planning and forethought had ensured that all the people's needs were met by an extensive system of infrastructure stretching across the entire kingdom. In the most recent reigns that network stretched beyond the kingdom's borders, tying up the entire eastern half of the continent in the city's prosperity.

Lake Bryanopest was the continent's second-largest freshwater lake, and the largest in the eastern half of the continent. Its shores marked the inland border of Ibnist Plains, and fed over four fifths of the farmland that supplied the city's most essential crops.

Aueras's line of kings prioritised irrigation works, so they had a complex net of aqueducts and canals that covered the entire area around the lake, and beyond in some areas. Several dozens of the canals were also wide enough and deep enough to carry barges that formed one of the cores of the city's trade transport infrastructure.

"Actually, there's no need to head to the capital before setting off for Kleibon. It would only delay your journey," Donoby said. He drew a straight line on the map. "You cross Lake Bryanopest and head to Kleibon directly, which would shave off two days."

"Go across Lake Bryanopest?" Claude mused.

"Yes. During the 11th month, I hailed three boats to cross the river and deliver my goods to the village. As it's winter now, the lake is covered by a thick layer of ice. You can just cross it directly. Perhaps you could hire a guide at the bank of the lake to lead you across. It would be much safer that way," the peddler said confidently.

"Could we hire your services as a guide?" Claude asked, "If we weren't in such a rush, I wouldn't have asked to trouble you, but in a foreign place in this kind of weather, it'll probably take too long to fumble our way to the village. I would gladly offer a crown for your guidance."

Claude didn't have a choice. Having a guide was much better than travelling aimlessly like flies. It wasn't even certain that they wouldn't lose their way using their original route to the royal capital and then to Kleibon Village. But if they used the route Donoby recommended, it wouldn't be as simple as looking at a map. They weren't even familiar with the place and landmarks and losing their way would be far too easy.

"This..." Donoby seemed rather hesitant.

Some of his other associates overheard the conversation and sounded their agreement. "Let's make a trip then, Donoby. It's only another five to six days. You'll already have missed the deadline you told your wife you'll be home by, so might as well give our three brave warriors a hand and earning some extra cash while you're at it. We'll tell your wife about it when we get back to prove that your return was delayed because of business, not because of a vixen."

"Alright then. I'll take you there," Donoby decided. The crown proved to be rather tempting.

The snowstorm only stopped after two days. The road was covered in half a metre of snow. It was the 11th of the 1st month and they had to report for duty by the 15th. It meant they had to arrive on the 14th no matter what. For convenience, Donoby advised them to not ride on horseback and instead squeeze in the sled Donoby used for his shipments that was pulled by his own three horses.

The peddler didn't lie and did in fact take them to Kleibon Royal Army College after two days and nights of travel. After paying him a crown and bidding him goodbye, Claude and the other two looked at the college a little doubtfully.

The only thing that barely resembled what they were expecting was a sign with the name of the institution marked on it. Myjack even tried to wipe the sign off to make sure he wasn't reading it wrong.

"This place looks like it's been abandoned. There isn't even a security station here," Myjack muttered.

"Let's go in and ask around," Claude said, leading the way.

"Halt! Who goes there?" The three were called to stop the moment they stepped in. It appeared that the lookouts were waiting inside where it was far warmer.

"Are you here to enroll?"

A couple soldiers weaseled out of the station and eyed them suspiciously.

"How did you come here? Did you not receive a notice?"

How had they gotten there? Claude was quite speechless.

"What notice? We rushed here for the enrollment after our family visit and ran into a snowstorm on the way. We worried that we wouldn't make it in time, so we hired a guide and crossed Lake Bryanopest to reach Kleibon Village directly."

The soldiers widened their eyes in realisation.

"Oh, so you didn't come from the capital? No wonder you came here without hearing about the notice. We thought you used another route. The last two days' snowstorms had covered half the capital in snow. It's the same in the road to Kleibon. The deepest parts have up to a metre of snow. Travel is impossible. The college has pushed back the start of the semester to the 1st of the 2nd month. Everyone's been notified."

The trio were stupefied. What would they do now? They had spent so much time and effort to rush to the college to enroll and end their vacation. While the enrollment was no longer an urgent concern, they didn't have anywhere to report the end of their break. Going back to 1st Ranger Tribe would be useless since Skri was resigning as tribesman and the tribe would be reorganised once more.

In other words, the three might not even be able to locate their tribe even if they went to the royal capital. Not to mention, Skri had sent their files to Kleibon Royal Army College, so now they had nothing to do with the tribe any longer.

"Go to the office building over there and look for Lieutenant-Colonel Manrique. He's the highest-ranked officer over here. I think he can help you with ending your vacation," suggested one of the soldiers.

The office was a long, two-storey building made of wood. Half of the first floor was underground, about two metres of it. That way, the roof of the second floor could angle enough to let snow slide off it to avoid snow piling up.

Lieutenant-Colonel Manrique was a well-built, middle-aged officer. He was dressed in thick winter clothes as the underground part of the office was really cold. To save on supplies, he didn't light the fireplace either, only lighting it up personally when Claude and the other two arrived.

They explained their situation and why they came and their problem was soon dealt with. The man didn't push responsibility to someone else and instead looked for the three's files himself before checking the name list of officers to be trained. He stamped their files to register their enrollment and the conclusion of their break and signed his own name.

Claude breathed a sigh of relief. Had they concluded their break on the delayed enrollment day, they would've gotten two weeks of extra break. That would've resulted in punishment and the transgression would be registered and it might affect their future breaks. Fortunately, the lieutenant-colonel took care of it for them.

Even if Claude had something to say about it, it was fact that he took longer to conclude his break. There wasn't much he could do about the black-and-white regulations and he would be punished no matter the reason.

After the procedures were complete, Claude got a really good impression of Manrique. He asked him why he did everything personally instead of getting his adjutant, orderman or guard to do it for him.

Manrique smiled and said that the college didn't assign him any, nor did he request for any for the simple reason that he couldn't afford it. Everyone in his large family counted on his salary to survive. Since they lived in the royal capital, the living costs were quite high. He could only barely keep the family afloat with his salary of two crowns a month.

Two crowns did seem to be quite a lot. Claude was quite curious about the details and he got Myjack to bring him two bottles of fruit wine he bought from Fang to go with the chat he was about to have with Manrique. Since he was now a captain, his salary and bonuses amounted to around a crown. He was already earning three times as much as his late father did.

The lieutenant-colonel got far more talkative with two glasses of wine down. He didn't have anything better to do there anyway and said he hadn't drunk so much since his marriage. His life story was a simple one. Born a peasant, he graduated from a war college at a young age and joined the ministry of the army as a staff officer. After many years of service, he got promoted to lieutenant-colonel. Working in the ministry of the army did come with the benefit of easier promotions, after all. Many of his colleagues who graduated from the war college were only still majors.

Peasant officers like Manrique didn't have much power in the ministry of the army and would at most serve as the adjutants of certain department heads. Manrique wasn't that ambitious a person either and was quite satisfied with his current post. His greatest wish was to finish all the work he was given without making any screw ups.

He had gotten married at the age of 27 with his childhood friend and daughter of his neighbour. When he was promoted to major, his parents had grown quite old. Both he and his wife were only childs of their respective families, so the four parents were up to them to sustain. They had three of their own children so the whole family numbered up to nine people. As their parents grew older, their medical fees soon became the largest part of their family's spending and most of their savings had been spent on that.

Manrique said he couldn't remember the last time he bought a bottle of wine for himself to drink. Living in the royal capital did cost far more than other places, after all. Claude had quite a long conversation with him and found that even normal honeyed bread cost two times what it did at other places. Not only that, blackwheat ale, which usually costs around three to five fennies a cup, cost one sunar in the royal capital, about three times the price.

Manrique, however, did regret coming to Kleibon Royal Army College a little. He didn't know how he caught Prince Hansbach's eye and was transferred to manage the college. Had it not been for the extra crown of benefits that came with this post, he wouldn't have agreed to leave the ministry.

It was only after arriving that he realised the college was still being constructed. He also heard news from his friends in the royal capital that the future of the college seemed bleak at best. It wasn't just the college; there seemed to also be a huge problem when it came to the formation of the Ranger corps.

Had Claude not been a captain and a recipient of a knighthood, Manrique wouldn't have so happily disclosed the goings on behind the scenes, though part of it was just him unloading his worries. Claude was quickly informed on why the lieutenant-colonel didn't see a bright future for the college.

The reason Prince Hansbach wanted to form the Ranger corps was so that the Stellin royal family had a loyal and reliable force that answered only to it. That was why noble officers were forbidden from taking part in it. Consequently, that caused the corps' formation to be put under severe pressure. Noble families, regardless whether they sided with the royal family or not, didn't wish for the royal family to have their own private army.

The war had just ended and the kingdom was short on funds to rebuild. So, a lack of funding became the most common excuse. Of the four standing corps, Griffon and Reddragon would be stationed at the border of Nasri to keep the enemy wary and in check. The newly reformed Bluefeather on the other hand would be stationed at the border between Canas and Askilin to repel enemy invasions.

The royal guard, on the other hand, had to return to the royal capital. The four new standing corps also had to be formed to be stationed in the new territories acquired by the kingdom through the war. So, Ranger became a pain in the neck for many nobles. They suggested for the cancellation of that corps' formation to cut down on military spending. So, the college that was built to train officers for them was also involved and had their budget cut by half. Part of the reason for the delay was the snowstorm, but the other part was due to their efforts to raise more funds for the college.

Chapter 315 - Accommodation Problems

Claude, Myjack, and Gum lingered around the college with the tent of garrison soldiers for around ten days before the rest of the troops arrived. Shipments of supplies came in non-stop from the 23rd of the 1st. They were accompanied by a small band to help with the work. The prospective students and staff started arriving half a week later. There was no sign of Moriad or Dyavid, however.

Lately Manrique had been dealing with many matters for Claude. He was intent on getting in the first prince's good graces, and had decided to do that by making sure the officer who'd caught his eye had everything he needed. He saw with his own eyes how the snow-covered ground was quickly cleared for quarters, classrooms, wooden cafeterias, and the bathhouse.

A notice was soon put up on the main entrance. It said the training would be divided into two grades, a total of sixteen classes. Ten of them were for low-ranked officers, basically, corporals to sergeant-majors. Myjack and Gum were listed in the classes. The other six classes were for lieutenants to captains and aimed to improve the fighting capabilities of each band or clan as well as ensure a basic standard for management and recruit training.

Claude saw Moriad, Dyavid, and Berklin's names on the list. The other names were the captains in 1st Rangers with whom he was familiar. However, he didn't see his name and wondered if someone had blundered.

He decided to pay the busy Manrique a visit. When the lieutenant-colonel saw him, he nodded and said he was just about to look for him and asked him to wait until he finished his current task.

Claude waited for quite a long while for Manrique to finish delegating his tasks and rush his subordinates out of the office. Tranquility returned to the room.

"This is for you," Manrique said as he handed Claude a document from his desk.

Claude opened if and saw the words 'Advanced Strategy Class' written on it and wondered why he was included. There were 26 names and apart from Claude, all the other officers were at least majors or above. There were eight colonels among the other 25 names.

Seeing the doubtful look on his face, Manrique laughed.

"Surprised? I was, too. After asking around, I learnt you were nominated to the class by General Miselk Kor Priest himself. He said even he couldn't defeat five thousand enemies with a whole clan of men. Since you got such an impressive achievement in the battle in Squirrel, there's no need for you to receive training in the other class. You're more than qualified to join the advanced class."

Claude seemed rather troubled. "The general is too kind. I was just lucky. By the way, what do they cover in the class?"

Manrique didn't answer his question. He instead changed the subject to the Ranger corps.

"Did you know that after the training session all officers will be promoted and hold a post in Ranger? It's too bad the corps is gone now..."

"What do you mean? There's no more Ranger corps? Does that mean the royal family compromised on not having their own force?"

"No. The corps may be gone, but we still have a Ranger folk."

Having a folk as its own independent unit? Claude didn't understand. It was unprecedented.

In Aueras, the smallest unit capable of doing battle independently was a tribe of roughly 1100 men. Coupled with two bands of cannoneers, a tribe had about 1200 men. Each line had four tribes and one additional keeper clan and some staff, numbering around 5400 in total. Above the line was a folk, which had four lines, a keeper tribe and cannoneer tribe. All units, including folk staff combined, numbered up to 25 thousand men.

Past the folk was the corps. Each corps had two folks, one cavalry line, one keeper line, and two cannoneer tribes. They totaled up to 60 thousand men.

But after hearing Manrique's explanation, Claude came to know what an independent folk unit looked like. One main force the size of a folk would be paired with a cavalry line, an independent enhanced combat tribe, and a cannoneer tribe. The total number of men in an independent folk was around 32 thousand men.

A folk was only half the size of a corps. The largest difference was that the folk relied on all five lines to carry out their missions, unlike corps that used one folk for attack or defence while the other was kept in reserve.

The formation of the Ranger corps caused quite a lot of dissent among the nobles and officials, and the four standing corps began to eye the 80 thousand war horses allocated to the corps. So, the ministry of the army also made their opinion heard; they didn't want another Ranger corps to siphon their budget.

That made finances and distribution of equipment the biggest hurdle for the royal family to build a force they could rely on. The finance minister stated that the treasuries were quite empty and they couldn't afford to form another corps. The ministry of the army on the other hand requested to change Bluefeather into a cavalry corps so that they could deal with the light cavalry of Canas.

Their desire for the 80 thousand war horses was blatant. While the horses were offered by Canas to the kingdom as a trade on paper, they were actually reparations to the kingdom. Canas had to give the kingdom all those horses while all Aueras had to do was pick out some older ordnances they obtained on the battlefield to trade for them.

The ordnances the kingdom obtained on the battlefield couldn't compare to their own in the first place, so being able to trade them for war horses was a great deal. It also saved them the money it would cost them to maintain the equipment. Adding to the fact that the ministry of the army had proven their infantry couldn't deal with the enemy's cavalry, they said they could avoid suffering the same defeat by making Bluefeather a cavalry corps.

Currently, Bluefeather was stationed at the border of Canas and being remade into a cavalry unit would even the odds against the light-cavalry enemies who harassed and raided them from time to time. Even though the two nations had signed a peace treaty, hostilities between the nomadic tribes and the kingdom's forces at the border of Askilin still hadn't ceased. It was local culture and even the Duke of Canas was unable to do much to stop it. Raids like those existed even during the times when Canas and Askilin were in the same alliance.

As for the Ranger corps, the ministry of the army didn't even include their formation in their considerations, to say no more about whether the kingdom could even afford it. Additionally, the Ranger corps was designed to be a rapid reaction force comprised of mounted infantry, not cavalry. In other words, they used horses to get to their destinations faster but had to dismount to fight. In that sense, there was no need for them to be given war horses. They could just use race horses for that since the horses didn't have to enter combat.

Faced with all the troubles the kingdom's officials were giving him, Prince Hansbach had no choice but to discuss with Stellin X and General Miselk. They settled on decreasing the scope of the force by making them a self-contained folk. That compromise was accepted by the ministry of the army and only after that was the new folk allocated supplies and equipment. Furthermore, since the Ranger folk would be commanded by the royal family, they would be the ones footing the bill for its formation.

Now, the Ranger corps was reduced to a folk. General Miselk argued that this would help them react even more rapidly to different situations. Not only that, the whole folk would be armed with Aubass Mark 3s. With muskets that could fire reliably and accurately, the kingdom's penchant to rely on massed volley fire would soon be changed.

The Ranger folk also didn't have to operate like normal corps, having one folk on standby while the other attacked. Up until the recent end of the war, the kingdom had been employing old tactics. When the enemy fought defensively, marching up to enemy lines in single-file caused them great casualties.

Manrique told Claude that the purpose of the advanced strategy class was to develop new tactics for Ranger to use. They had to simulate many different approaches to find new and effective methods of fighting.

Claude was struck with realisation. Even though he was just a captain, he was the first one that came up with loading in a proning position and crawling to advance towards enemy lines and rely on precise shooting to take out enemy targets. He had managed to take advantage of the Aubass Mark 3's capabilities to its fullest and caught General Miselk's eyes. It wasn't surprising that he was included in that class, considering his achievements in Squirrel Village.

"But I still have one question, and it has to do with you," Manrique said a little awkwardly, "There's been a little problem with your accommodation..."

"Accommodation? What of it? I'm staying here just fine. One tent is more than enough for me."

"Well, it goes like this..." Manrique spent quite a lot of time explaining the situation to him.

Thanks to the influx of new students, a tent-sharing arrangement had to be made. It wasn't a problem for the ten students of the lowest class. They would share a tent like a normal tent of soldiers. The six officers ranked lieutenant and above got better treatment. A simple wooden dorm was built and eight people could live in it.

As for the higher-ranked officers, they were allocated their own villas outside the college. Therein lay the problem: Claude was only a captain and he should be staying with the officers of the medium class. However, he was participating in the top-level class and didn't need to go through training, so it wouldn't be appropriate for him to stay with the medium class.

Claude didn't really care where he lived, but Manrique said that the officers in the medium class had to be trained all the way from the basics. In other words, they would have to gather on the field and march every morning. Claude's class on the other hand would be busy simulating battles on sand tables and it wasn't unforeseeable that some sessions would last into the night.

Since Claude's rest times were different from the other officers of his rank, he couldn't stay in the wooden house. Putting aside whether their different schedules would affect his rest, Manrique worried that the other officers might find it unfair and feel jealousy for the 'special treatment' Claude seemed to be getting. They had to wake up first thing in the morning for training, only to see Claude continue to sleep soundly day after day. To say that it would be demoralising was an understatement.

The tent Claude was currently staying in also had to be reclaimed by the college. The three were only lent the tents by Manrique since they arrived ten days in advance, but with the semester about to start and the accommodation settled, they couldn't let Claude continue to have his tent pitched on the field. There was no room for discussion there.

"Does that mean I'll have to move into my own villa outside the college?" Claude asked.

"No, your rank is insufficient for that." Though troubled Manrique was, regulations were regulations. Officers below the rank of major just didn't get their personal villas, and that wasn't taking into account the fact that one of the villas had to accommodate three officers unlike what had been planned due to not building enough villas as a result of budget difficulties. The other factor was the unexpected number of officers General Miselk invited into the class. Initially, only sixteen slots were planned, but now, there were ten more officers including Claude.

"You aren't considered an instructor of the college either," Manrique added. The other villas in the village sector had long been assigned to the instructors of the college. Some of them brought their families there and others had servants to take care of their daily needs. Nobody would welcome Claude into their homes.

It was no wonder Manrique seemed so troubled. Claude had been isolated without even noticing it.

"Then what can I do? You can't be asking me to pitch a tent elsewhere in the village, can you?"

"No need for that. I've solved the problem for you," Manrique said with glee, "I reached out to a household in the village. You'll be staying in with them during the term of your training and the costs will be covered by the college."

Chapter 316 - Home Stay and Eloping

The home stay Manrique arranged for Claude was in the east part of the village. It was quite far from the college. So much so he would have to make a 15-minute walk every day. Manrique did, however, say he could prepare a horse for him. As for the three race horses with which Claude and the others had come, they had been sold to the college for the standard market rate. Claude wouldn't have to worry about looking after the animals.

Ranger folk would be a mobile strike and rapid-response force. As such, all soldiers and officers had to be competent cavalrymen. Unfortunately, most of the men attending couldn't ride to save their life. They were thus required to attend an additional equestrianship course. The college had yet to receive proper warhorses, so they cobbled together a stable of farm horses and coach horses from the region.

The trio's horses had been bought for that exact purpose. Manrique was struck by another idea as he handed over their horses to the college's stables. All the students were travelling by horse one way or another, so why not buy their mounts instead of going to the markets in the capital once the local supply was exhausted?

"You'll be staying here, Sir," Second Lieutenant Lonkdor, Manrique's adjutant said, pointing at the largest building in the village -- an L-shaped stone building.

Its longer side had four rooms, the shorter, two. The inside square held a well and a small stable.

"Is this the chief's house?" Claude asked.

"It belongs to a powerful figure, yet, but not the chief. The owner's the chief's father. I heard he's... eccentric. His wife's happy to have a renter, finally. The place has been empty for a while."

"Does the chief not live here?"

"The chief's a retired veteran, a dignitarian. His father's a peasant. His status, both as village chief, and dignitarian, means he can't live under his father's roof, where someone who's neither the chief nor a dignitarian, calls the shots over him. He lives on the village's outskirts, on the other side of town. His parents live together with his brothers and sisters. The eldest of the remaining brothers is in the army -- in the royal guard to be precise. The youngest didn't have to serve because his two older brothers filled the family quota. He moved to the capital a couple years ago and is running a business there."

The two dismounted. The yard entrance was closed.

"Anyone home?" Lonkdor called, waving over the fence.

Four people emerged from the rooms a couple moments later; a man and three women. The man was at least sixty, his face as stiff as tanned leather. He didn't seem cheery, though Claude doubted one could tell even if he were. He'd clearly been busy shuffling manure in the stable.

A fat woman in a tired apron, at least fifty, stood beside him. The stench of reused cooking oil clung to her like stink on shite. Her face smiled jovially, however, and she half-stomped half-rolled over to them enthusiastically.

"You're here! And is this the young one to lodge with us?"

Lonkdor nodded reservedly and introduced Claude.

"He is Mister Zasrak, the landlord. And this is his wife, Madam Natalie.

"Nice to meet you, Mister Zasrak, Madam Natalie. I apologise in advance for any trouble I may cause," Claude said politely, bowing gracefully to the old couple.

"Why are you here if you know it's a bother?" he heard the old man mumble under his breath.

What? Wasn't his wife most welcoming? What had bitten his little brother? His wife shot a surreptitiously furious glance at him and he swallowed the rest of his ramblings.

"You're too polite, Sir," she then said, "It's our honour to host someone of your station. Don't call me Madam either. We're just humble village folk. It's too grand for a humble little peasant. Call me Auntie instead. Please come to me if you need anything. And let me introduce you to my second daughter-in-law, Doris... And this is my daughter, Halbena."

Claude had ignored the two girl's presence thus far, but now he had to interact with them. The two were still taking their last steps off the stairwell when Claude's eyes surveyed them. The elder must be the daughter-in-law. She appeared 25. Quite a catch, if Claude said so himself. At best a 7 out of 10, however. She appeared to be of the lively kind, as her eyes flirted with him longingly, while her tongue surreptitiously hinted at what euphoria they might conjure.

He was not surprised. Her husband, the second son, was away in the capital, and had probably been for months, if not a year or more. Women might not in general be as driven as men, but a year was plenty of time to build up a voyeuristic longing. Though Claude doubted she had kept herself all that time. He wondered if that might be why Zasrak was so unenthused at his presence.

The younger had then to be the daughter, her generation's youngest. Claude guessed her at twenty. She was quite fair skinned, probably also the pampered one. She had her mother's figure, however, again, probably the pampered one, though Claude could see a beauty hid beneath the fat.

Claude bowed shortly, but with the appropriate show of respect.

"It's my pleasure to meet you two beautiful misses."

The one which had to be Doris giggled.

"I'm not a miss. Call me Madam."

Claude glanced awkwardly at Lonkdor. Madam what though.

Auntie Natalie stepped in to save him.

"Let's not trouble him. Just let him call you by your name. We are village folk, after all."

Lonkdor coughed dryly.

"Ah, umm... Is Captain Claude's room ready?"

"Been for a while now. We scrubbed it thoroughly. All the furniture, doors and windows have been scrubbed as well. Come with me."

They were brought to the short side's ground floor. Two doors led to two suites. Each had a bedrooms, washroom, and bathroom. The last two could hardly be called that by modern terms, but it was better than shit-laden nothing.

"My eldest used to live here. He moved in after his marriage. Didn't stay for long, though. The other two are on the first floor."

While it was on the ground floor, the room didn't feel moist. It was likely the waterproofing, which was uncommonly thorough. The floor had been covered in wood tiles. The wood from which the tiles were made, had a wonderful smell, and a day or two in closed space really brings out smells.

The only downside was the lack of decoration. Nothing but wooden beams. The room above's floor wasn't even hidden by planking. Sound carriage aside, it made for a very dusty lower room.

When he asked Natalie about it, she said people didn't live on the ground floor frequently, so they never bothered improving things.

"Alright. I'm quite satisfied with the room. I'll be moving my things over at night, so I'm afraid I'll be bothering you all starting today." Claude thanked Natalie for the guide. Lonkdor had told him that while her husband was the owner, she was the one who called the shots, so he only had to know how to handle her.

"No problem. Sir, why don't you have dinner with us?"

"There's no need. Our college requires us to eat at the cafeteria. Also, just call me Claude. Sir sounds a little too formal," he politely refused.

Lonkdor stepped forward and asked about leaving Claude's mount in their stable. They settled on a monthly fee of a thale for the horse's feed.

The two bid the family farewell when all was settled. Claude would be living in with them from then on. Currently, he was on his way back to pack his stuff up. Classes started tomorrow, so his tent on the field would have to be reclaimed.

"That old guy looks like he doesn't like me there," Claude said.

Lonkdor nodded. "Don't mind him. He's a little old fashioned. Perhaps he's worried you'll tempt his daughter and daughter-in-law. Didn't you notice the look on Doris' face? She looks easy to seduce. You'll surely have plenty of chances in the future. His wife also looks like she wants her daughter to marry an officer so their family has someone to rely on."

Claude laughed. "It's too bad, then. I just got married less than half a year ago, so I'm not interested in their younger daughter. My wife's also three-months pregnant, so I worry for her health."

"Congratulations," Lonkdor said enviously, "Not only did you get the rank of captain and a knighthood at such a young age, you're also going to be a father! You really are a winner in life compared to me!"

When they reached the college, Claude was bear-hugged by a few others before he even got a chance to pack up.

"Why did you guys only just arrive now?" Berklin, Dyavid and Moriad were the ones with their arms around him. Claude angrily asked, "What's going on? I thought you didn't want to see me, you know. You didn't even come to my wedding."

"What? You're married too, Chief?" Moriad asked oddly.

"Huh? Yeah, I am... Wait, didn't you guys receive the invitation I sent out? I wrote to you all during the 8th month last year to invite you to my marriage, but not one of you came! I thought I was being avoided or something..."

"No, Chief!" Dyavid cried, "We didn't receive your letter, cause we weren't at home! We didn't even know you were getting married!"

"You weren't home?" Weren't they going to show off after going home to the royal capital? What were they doing during their three-month break? "Where have you guys been then?"

"Chief, it's not their fault. I dragged them with me. They didn't go home because of me," Berklin admitted.

"What were you up to this time?" Claude wondered.

"Chief, Berk got married too," Moriad said, "Actually, he eloped with his wife. We didn't go home because we wanted to help him hide from his wife's family's pursuit..."

Elopement? That came as a bigger shock than Berklin's marriage. "Oh, tell me the details. Is the matter settled?"

"Chief, do you remember Aboyev?" Dyavid asked.

"Of course." Claude nodded. That was his good friend and one of his 'minions'. He was the youngest but the most cheery of them all. The four nobles joined the army together, yet Aboyev fell during the attack on Wilf Stronghold. A bullet penetrated his eye and exited the back of his head. The only fortunate thing about that was he probably died in an instant without suffering any pain.

"Bov was a twin. He has an elder brother and a twin sister," Moriad explained.

Both Aboyev and his twin sister were illegitimate children. Even though their father acknowledged his blood relation with them, they weren't accepted into the family. That was why their names didn't bear the sobriquet of the main family.

When Berklin went home to visit, he found that Aboyev's twin sister was about to be forcefully married to an old fellow about fifty years of age whose wife died recently. That was when Berklin bravely stole her away, earning himself the ire of the old noble and Aboyev's family.

When they had nowhere else to go, Berklin brought the girl to the military camp to seek help. He happened to run into Dyavid and Moriad and was finally safe. The two of them thus helped hide Berklin and Aboyev's sister while trying to threaten and persuade their pursuers.

Aboyev's family was quite pleasant to talk with. A family that had fallen from grace had nothing much behind them anyway. Even though Aboyev was dead, at least his good friends became commissioned officers of the kingdom. It was quite a worthwhile deal to purchase their friendship for the cheap price of a girl borne out of wedlock, especially since the one who stole her away was a first lieutenant of the kingdom. As such, they came up with an ultimatum. Berklin would have to take Aboyev's sister as his wife and they would have to deal with the old noble themselves without the help of the family.

However, the old noble was rather lustful and ignored Moriad and Dyavid's attempt at a conversation. He insisted that since the bride's family had accepted the bride price he paid, they had to hand the bride over. He didn't care about feelings and emotions. He only wanted Aboyev's sister for her body, not her heart. He also attempted to frighten the young second lieutenants with his status, citing that his nephew was a colonel in the army's logistics department.

"What happened then?" Claude was already invested in the story. He had to know its ending.

"We had no choice," Moriad said with a shrug, "Since words didn't work, we resorted to our fists. We kept an eye on the old noble for three whole days and finally waited until he was alone having fun with the tavern girls. The moment he left after his session, we beat him unconscious and put a linen sack over his head before bringing him to the back alley and giving him a heavy beating. We stripped all his valuables and made it look like robbery, something that's all too common in the royal capital. Nobody will ever find out what really happened.

"Then, we took Aboyev's sister and Berklin to the three southern prefectures and had them wedded at a moon goddess shrine, before raising enough money to buy a home next to where Lieutenant-Colonel Lederfanc lived for them. With the Lieutenant-Colonel's wife taking care of the girl, she is safe when Berklin is here training with us."

Chapter 317 - The Sounds Upstairs

Claude was satisfied with their explanation. At the very least, his friends' actions displayed their camaraderie and willingness to take one for the team. He thus chose to forgive them for not attending his wedding. He asked about Berklin's married life and told him he could always ask for help if he needed anything, financial or otherwise. The three were prone to spending their salaries almost entirely in bars and taverns.

Berkling said he didn't need money; he had enough to last him a year or two thanks to Moriad and Dyavid robbing the old noble. Not to mention Madam Lederfanc was looking after them. She'd even hired his wife as her assistant and paid well.

He was also happy with the marriage as Aboyev's sister, Bonnys, was a beauty. He didn't think he would end up with the damsel after playing hero. Moriad and Dyavid envied that he stole away the beauty who'd grown up with them. More than envy, however, they were just regretful at missing their chance.

After packing and taking his things to Zasrak's home, Claude took his friends and minions to look for a nearby tavern to drink and make merry. Unfortunately there wasn't one in the village. There was a rumour that an outsider merchant had recently bought some land on the outskirts of town to build one, but nothing had come of it yet.

The nearest tavern was in another village several kilometres away. Myjack and Gum offered to borrow a couple horses to go buy some alcohol at the tavern. They got along well with the college garrison. They wouldn't get in trouble even if they were late for curfew.

Claude and company had no choice but to get dinner at the cafeteria instead. Classes started the next day, so they couldn't stay up too late. Claude's three friends suffered a stern lecture from Claude about doing their best on their studies. He relayed the information from Manrique that the corps had been downsized to just a folk. Its officers would also not receive their promotion anymore. Only the top ten in the year would get a promotion.

The two minions returned near the end of dinner service with snacks and blackcurrant wine. They didn't make too much merry with the classes the next day. They called it quits an hour and a half in. Claude was one of the few people allowed to leave the campus after curfew because his residence was in town. The college was nothing if not well organised, so he could leave without any trouble, the guards having already been informed of his situation.

Claude found Zasrak waiting for him in the yard when he arrived at the house. He gave the old man a bottle of wine to apologise for his tardiness. Claude wasn't drunk per se, but he was healthily tipsy, and the old man's lips twitched as he took the bottle but he didn't say anything.

The water in his tank was still lukewarm. He felt even more guilty. The family had warmed up water for him to have a warm bath on his return, but he'd made it go to waste by getting back so late. He apologised to the old man again before taking his bath.

His bed was covered in fluffy goat-fur blankets and Claude collapsed under them, falling asleep in a couple of minutes. He slept very light in this unfamiliar room, and was woken three hours into his slumber by soft moaning.

He sat up groggily and looked around. The moaning was far from unfamiliar to his ears, but he saw no naked figures in his room. He even cast Eye of Appraisal, but noticed no traces of mana usage. Despite that, the sounds lingered in his room erotically.

He listened carefully, and finally realised the sounds were seeping in through the floorboards of the room above his, which belonged to Doris. Her husband wasn't home, however, and Zasrak was the only other male on the premises. Was there something between the two?

The word 'cuckold' suddenly appeared in his mind. Perhaps that was why the man had been less than enthusiastic about his residence.

He paid careful attention to her moans for a few long seconds, and realised there was only one voice. What was the girl doing to make such sounds on her own?

Claude cast Magus' Hands and Fine Control, shaping his invisible appendage into a thin tube which he put through a crack in the floorboards. He then cast Eye of Appraisal and gazed up through the tube.

The room was furnished much the same as his, the furniture was even in much the same places. A beautiful figure lay sprawled on the bed, one hand clasping the headboard, the two legs spread wide, and the other hand plunged a shameless object into the sacred flesh between them. Despite the girl's best evident efforts, the sounds of deep pleasure escaped between her wetly parted lips.

Claude's eyes burnt and he cancelled his spells quickly. He never thought Doris could be so shameless. Pleasuring herself was one thing, but to do it when he was right beneath her... He supposed that was inevitable, however. People, man or woman, had natural drives, instinctual urges which had to be calmed. Marriage didn't take them away. While her husband's posting kept him out of danger, it also took half his usual month-a-year leave. It meant the two saw each other for only a fortnight a year. Despite the no-doubt-intense evenings during the three fortnights they'd spent together over the three years since their marriage, Doris was yet not pregnant, so her natural urges were still in the full swing of a woman in her youth.

Claude could empathise with her, he knew how it felt to be without outlet, so he let her go in peace. He, surprisingly, was not very aroused at the sight. Perhaps marriage had done something to him after all. The whole affair made him grateful that Kefnie was already pregnant. She would at least not have to worry about her urges for the next nine months. And after that she'd have the kid to keep her mind off it.

He could not sleep with the woman's shameless grunts and moans, however, so he decided to meditate. It was about time he put some serious effort into his magic training again. He was now a two-ring magus, but he didn't know if he was still a rune magus. His second hexagram would have only one runic spell, Flame Control. It was the only one he knew which he could engrave in his second hexagram. The two others were combat spells; Chain Lightning and Energy Barrier, and the last two were nature spells; Lightweight Flight and Stealth Sneaking. The two remaining slots were still empty as he had yet to find more suitable spells. He no longer walked the path of a rune magus. He was rapidly becoming a jack-of-all-trades.

He couldn't meditate with the ruckus upstairs, either. The woman's animal sounds reminded him of his time with his lovers and now-wife, and those thoughts did arouse him.

A suppressed nasal squeal burst through the boards, and then it was, finally, quiet. Claude closed his eyes again and meditated.

He came back to himself an hour later, well after midnight. He decided to call it for the day and went to sleep. He had just started drifting away, however, when the blasted moaning started up again. She wasn't holding back this time, either. Clearly she thought everyone was asleep by now, so she didn't have to fight against her sounds.

Claude's blood boiled, in more ways than one. Was the damn woman that backed-up? Was once not enough for her? Surely there was no need to keep going at it the whole night. Even he, a man in his prime, at an age when men could not be more driven, was not this ridiculous.

If she'd been going at it with her husband, at least he could have told him to keep it down next time, but he could not talk about such things with a young woman, especially not a married one. He couldn't just let it be, either, however.

He smiled bitterly and lay back on his bed. It occurred to him that Doris could've forgotten he was now staying downstairs. If so, he could make a sound to remind her a military officer had moved into the room beneath hers.

He coughed loudly. The sounds vanished in a surprised yeep. He cracked a smile and pulled the blankets over his head and finally fell asleep.

He woke up early the next morning, washed, and headed out. Zasrak was alone in the yard, busy drawing water from the well. He said nothing, barely nodding to Claude as he passed. Auntie Natalie came out of the kitchen and asked if he had slept well. She also offered breakfast, which he politely refused. Breakfast was provided, so he had no reason to sponge off them for his meals as well. His mount was saddled quickly and he left for the college as soon as he could.

On the 1st of the 2nd month, Year 582 of the Sacred Light Era, Kleibon Royal Army College had its first opening ceremony. Over a thousand students were in attendance, and the first prince even gave a speech, but the ceremony was actually quite simple. The royal and college flags were raised to everyone's salute, followed by several hours of speeches by people of ever-increasing pedigree. Most of it was all just regurgitated and repeated cliches. The congregation was finally disbanded after the prince's speech, and dispersed to their classes.

Claude had nowhere to go, however. His class, the advanced strategies class, had yet to get all the materials it needed. On top of that, three of the students had yet to arrive, delays at work being what they were, so it would be a couple more days before it started.

Free time meant little when he had nothing to do with it. He had initially planned to stay in Manrique's office for the rest of the day, but the lieutenant-colonel chased him out. He was too busy to have someone sitting around in his office distracting him. Not to mention most of his work for the day was entertaining the various pedigreed guests who had come for the ceremony.

The various yards and the field were all occupied, so he couldn't laze around there, either. The normal students were busy training formations and drill. He thus weaseled his way into the guard box near the campus entrance. He was almost immediately and repeatedly mistaken for the guard in charge.

He grit his teeth and headed back home for lunch. He didn't want to sponge on the family, but he was not going to wander around aimlessly on campus the whole damn day. He found his night garments still on the laundry pile, so he decided to wash his stuff.

Chapter 318 - Laundry Chaos

Claude regretted his decision the moment he set foot back in the yard. Doris and Halbena were washing a hill of clothes by the well. The air was unmanageably awkward, especially for Doris. Her face was red the moment she heard his footsteps and she buried it in the washing, staring at the shirt she was scrubbing as if it would devour her if she took her eyes off it for even a moment.

Claude was happy to see she appeared to have at least a hint of shame, unlike how Lonkdor had described her. Modest women, which she was still far from being, were worlds better than shameless whores. Claude wondered now if she'd only been teasing him when she'd licked her lips during their first meeting. She might have hoped for the young officer to let slip a slight blush, or perhaps even a soft, surreptitious swallow of lusting saliva and give her a delightful boost in confidence.

She had clearly, Claude now knew, forgotten about his residence in the room beneath hers. He doubted now that she would have been so brazen had she remembered. She had, however, and the memory of his cough coming muffled through the floorboards, much as her moans had floated down through those same boards to him, drove the blood to her neck, face, and ears.

Despite his complete innocence in the matter, Claude found himself blushing slightly as well. He managed only the curtest of nods and humphs in her direction before marching on.

Halbena was not burdened by the shame that had tamed her sister-in-law, however, and called out to him as he passed.

"Why back so early?" she asked boldly, though not lacking the appropriate politeness.

"The opening ceremony's done and I don't have any classes for the time being."

Claude spoke as he tied the horse to a post by the stable's entrance and started undoing the saddle leathers.

"Are your parents home?"

"Father is checking on the winter wheat. Mother's at the neighbours'. Do you need something from them?"

"Not really. I was just wondering where they were. I'll be in my room."

Claude put the saddle away, untied the horse, gave it a quick walk around the yard to cool it off, then stowed it as well before heading back to his bedroom. He stuffed his undergarments into a wooden bucket, thanking his lucky stars the girls hadn't seen them, and undressed. He wished he could just toss the damn thing off, but he had to wear it again the next day and he would be damned if he had to iron and straighten the thing again. He bore with the discomfort and took everything off carefully, piece by piece, making sure to stow each careful so it would need as little work the next morning as possible before he put it on again.

He'd been spared this chore, amongst countless others, thanks to the perks his rank brought, namely that he had an orderman to do it for him. Myjack had taken to his role so well Claude was convinced he had been a born-and-bred servant in his previous life, a butler perhaps.

He did not, however, have that luxury anymore. He was back in college. His military rank, and all the perks that went with it, were effectively suspended until he completed the course. He was just another cadet until he graduated. His rank was not forgotten where his chores, and his damned uniform, were forgotten, however. He still had to look just as immaculate, which meant he had to do all the gods-forsaken chores Myjack had taken care of before.

He picked up the bucket and headed for the yard again, but froze at the door. Right, damn idiot! The two girls were still washing! If unveiling his undergarments to the two young women, girls really, was not enough, they were no doubt going to think it was all just an excuse to spend more time with them. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was those two thinking he had the hots for one, or both, of them.

He slammed the bucket down on the table by the window and plopped himself down in the adjacent chair, guiding his thoughts out of the town and across the full extent of the kingdom to the capital and his former mistress. There would be no mending the relationship between his sister and the baroness. It wasn't that the event was so severe that it was impossible for them to put it behind them, both sides were just too stubborn to do so, and he, the third wheel in all of it, had little interest in mending things. It provided too much of a convenient excuse to sever ties with his former mistress. They were still on neutral, if no longer good, terms, however. Neither side had hard feelings towards the other. They both recognised the other's difficulty in the situation and had settled on an unspoken neutrality between the two sides. He supposed he should go to see the baroness. They may no longer be mistress and servant, but they were still teacher and student and she had taken good care of his family. He owed her at least a courtesy call.

It would also give him a good opportunity to buy books from the capital's sizeable bookstores. He didn't have so much as a scrap of paper to that effect with him at the moment, and his life felt uncharacteristically empty without it. He'd lived without books for five years during the war, and it had not bothered him then, but this was the first time in his civilian life that he'd been without at least one he was reading. The feeling was compounded further by his ample free time, which he had nothing with which to fill. The rainy season was also about a month away, and he would have to spend most of it indoors, which gave him yet more time to kill.

It was all fine and good, but he didn't think it right to ask for leave on the day the college opened, and his first official day at it. He could at least wait until its second day of operation, not that it really did anything for the shamelessness of the request, but it would, at least, make him feel better about it.

A petite hand pushed the door to his room open while he was caught up in his thoughts and Auntie Natalie's voice came in through the crack.

"You're back..."

He had to catch himself before he said something inappropriate. He was a young man alone in his room, gods damn it! How could she just barge in without so much as a knock? What if he had been in the middle of changing, or some other thing that required his nudity. He pinned a warning to lock his bedroom door at all times in his mind.

A slight smile cracked on his lips, however, hiding his inner monologue.

"You're back, too. I had nothing to do at the college, so I came back early to catch some more shut-eye."

Natalie noticed the bucket and she gazed at it for half a moment before turning her eyes back to him.

"Were you about to go do some washing?"

Claude gave her a shy smile.

"Doris and Halbena are already at it by the well. I'll do mine when they're done."

"Nonsense! Go and get it done now. It's fine--" A scheming smile flashed across her eyes as her lips parted into a toothy grin. "--Why don't you let Bena wash it for you? Young men like you are no good at washing, anyway. My husband, the old man, just rinses his clothes and calls them 'washed'. Honestly, I swear men have the patience of flies!"

"Bena!" she shouted into the yard, "Come here, girl!"

"Please, Auntie, I'm fine doing it myself."

"Nonsense!" she said in a more insistent tone, "You're family as long as you stay here, so let Bena take care of it. Speaking of which, how old are you? Where are you from? How's the family?"

Ugh, she was pushing her daughter on him.

"I'm from Whitestag," he said helplessly, "Turned twenty-four last year, and I married before coming here. My wife's a childhood friend, and pregnant with my first."

Half of the warmth vanished from the woman's face at the mention of his marriage.

"Why so early..."

She said it like he had wronged her by getting married and it stopped his next words on his tongue. Thankfully Halbena arrived before the awkward moment could stretch for too long.

"You called, Mom?"

Natalie forced a smile and pointed at the bucket on the table.

"Help Claude with his laundry," she said somewhat stiffly.

"But I still have so much left to wash..." the girl complained.

"Please," Claude chimed, "don't trouble yourself. I'm fine washing them myself later."

"See? Even he says he doesn't need my help," Halbena said, grateful for the chance to get out of more washing.

Natalie ignored them both and stamped her authority as the house's matriarch down mercilessly.

"Lassie, are you getting bold? Claude's our guest. I said you're going to help him with his laundry, so you're going to help him with his laundry. I'll not hear another word--" she said imperially, clutching her daughter's arm firmly.

"Ouch! Let go, Mom! That hurts!" the girl squealed.

Claude didn't know what to do. Both women were in his room. Natalie might have reason to discipline her daughter, but surely she could do it somewhere else. Didn't she know it was impolite to do such things in front of strangers, a young man and a guest even.

"Please, Auntie, I already said I'm fine doing it myself."

"--From either of you," the woman added imperatively, eyeing Claude, "Please don't concern yourself with this, Claude. This lass here needs to learn to obey her mother when she speaks, so she will wash your clothes today."

"Okay, okay!" Halbena begged, squirming at the emphasising clench of her mother's hand.

Satisfied, Natalie let go.

"Next time, don't argue with me. I shouldn't have to keep disciplining you like a little girl, you're old enough to have a sense of propriety."

Halbena rubbed her arm and inched towards Claude's bucket unwillingly, pouting.

Claude watched the older woman watch over her daughter like a hawk and sighed.

"How much would you charge for doing my laundry every day?" he asked the defeated girl.

Her eyes widened and she yanked her head around almost fast enough to crack a vertebra.

"You're paying?"

"Of course. What kind of man would I be if I took advantage of your hospitality?"

The girl's sullen face blossomed into a bright smile.

"How much laundry do you need washed?"

"I don't know exactly. It'll depend a lot on what my schedule is like. It'll be at least one set of clothes a day in the summer. My bedding will need a wash every couple of days as well."

Claude almost jumped on the chance to pass off the most hated of his chores to someone else, even at the cost of a couple coins.

"Uhm... How about three riyas a month? I'll wash your clothes and clean your room every day," she said, adding the last sentence very quickly, growing anxious to secure his agreement now the thought had taken root.

It was a fair offer, cheap, even. He earned a crown a month, roughly seventeen times what she was asking for a month's washing and cleaning. It sounded like a lot to her, and it was, considering the average peasant household made at most two thales a month, but for him it was barely pocket change."

"Deal. I'll pay at the end of the month."

"Okay!" the girl chirped happily.

She shot her mother a victorious glare as she headed for the door, bucket in hand.

"I'm working for this money myself, so it's mine. I won't give it to you," she said over her shoulder at the door before turning to Claude one last time.

"Please pay me directly. I won't accept it paid if you give the money to someone else."

Claude nodded wordlessly. She smiled, spun on her heels, and was out of the door and down the corridor before her mother could say a word. Natalie stared at her, her jaw halfway to the ground. She rubbed her hands on her skirt, embarrassed.

"She's very money-minded..." she murmured apologetically.

"It's fine. I worked for my allowance when I was staying home, too. She is right to be proud of working for her money. I'm grateful she offered to clean my room as well. It's worth every fenny."

"Very well, I'll not get involved with your arrangement. Please have a good rest."

Natalie left quickly, closing the door behind her, her piece said.

This once again confirmed that money solved all problems, especially where Zasrak's household was concerned. Well, 'especially' wasn't really the right word. They were very much average in that regard.

He lazed about for a couple hours, spending most of the time meditating. He managed two cycles before it was time to head back to campus for dinner.

He noticed his clothes on the washing line as he stepped into the yard, his undergarments included. The household's clothes covered the yard like a forest, soaking the ground beneath and making puddles everywhere. The lines criss-crossed the yard, turning it into a maze. It took Claude quite a while, and a lot of careful manoeuvring to get his horse to the gate without dirtying any of the laundry.

"Where are you headed?" Halbena asked as he passed through the entrance.

She stood facing the road, leaning against the fence, a baked black potato in hand. She looked like a naughty kid with a hand full of stolen candy.

"To the college for dinner," he said, mounting his horse, "I'll be back in about an hour and a half to two. Why are you eating out here?"

"Mom's fault," she answered in a conspiratorial tone, "I'm starving after all that washing. But she won't let me eat. She says I'm too fat and need to eat less. I had to roast this secretly and eat it out here like a street urchin."

Chapter 319 - Trash Novel

Claude received a pleasant surprise as he walked into the cafeteria: though he was only a captain, as a student in the advanced strategy class, he enjoyed the same privileges as majors and above, one of which was to have meals in the officer's mess rather than the cafeteria. He happily let one of the attendants lead him to the mess, which sat adjacent to the cafeteria. They were still nothing compared to the food the likes of generals enjoyed, but they were far better than anything he'd had in the army before.

One of the biggest differences was that the food was freshly prepared, rather than reconstituted, dried ingredients, or some other form of treated preserve. He also received, for the first time, honeyed bread as part of his issued meal. He imagined he even tasted something akin to eggs. Did they use actual eggs in the dough? Gods, he didn't think the army cooks even knew what eggs were! And the wine!

His thoughts wandered over his five years in the army. He remembered how badly Skri had wanted that promotion to major. He'd treated it like a step into a new world, a whole new order. Claude had not understood why he was so obsessed with it, but he could understand it now.

He savoured the his food and drink for about an hour, then headed to Manrique's office. He immediately noticed Manrique's meal as he stepped in through the door. If his meal was a party compared to the meagre meals of the army grunts, then Manrique's meal was a banquet. Three bottles of wine accompanied his meal on the table, two yet unopened. Claude had enjoyed a healthy helping of food, but all the three dishes were served on one plate, Manrique's food was served a plate or bowl a dish, and he had six. The volume was about the same, but the extravagance of the food was evident at a glance. Everything was immaculately presented, carefully stacked in a fashion Claude could not describe as anything less than art, on dishes each of which was worth several months of his salary, at least. The cost of the ingredients and preparation of that meal might easily have fed a tent for a month or two, or have paid for a week or more's worth of the meals Claude had just had.

It didn't seem right. Wasn't Manrique a poor fellow weighed down by his humongous family? How could he afford such a meal? Claude doubted the college, despite the evident abundance of funding it had received, would provide such a meal. If for no other reason that if this was standard for people of Manrique's standing, then at least two dozen more such meals had to be served at each sitting. The cost was absolutely astronomical. Was he splurging to take his mind of some shock? Did he not have a family to raise?

"Ah, you're here. Come, have a drink with me," Manrique said casually, motioning to one of the chairs opposite him.

It was against protocol for Manrique to behave that way to a student, given he was a staff member, but the two were like brothers, so he didn't bother with protocol. Claude didn't play coy, either. He knew being a member of the advanced strategy class alone wasn't enough to get him all the perks he now enjoyed. They were, after all, awarded based on rank, not course attendance. Manrique had no doubt pulled several strings and called in a couple favours to make it happen.

Manrique poured him a glass of wine, then pointed at the dishes he'd yet to touch.

"Try some. They're good."

"Where'd all this come from?" Claude asked, his face a question mark.

Manrique stared at him, his face also a question mark, for several moments, then burst out laughing.

"It's not a trap! Haha! I didn't pay for anything, but it's all above board, well, mostly. It was supposed to be a special meal for some special guests we had here for the day, but they left before meal time. The kitchen was already working on it, so I decided not to let it go to waste. I've had it portioned out to everyone of the appropriate rank."

So that was where the honeyed bread was from. He'd thought it felt a little too extravagant, even for a major's meal. Well, that's not entirely accurate. Honeyed bread was not uncommon on the table of majors and colonels, but honeyed bread made with eggs was.

He shrugged and started helping himself, though he kept off the wine. He had one cup, but wouldn't let the lieutenant-colonel open one of the two other bottles. He couldn't head back to that house of females drunk, especially not with the nightly exploits of his upstairs neighbour.

He let Manrique have several cups of wine before asking for leave.

"No need!" Manrique said, slapping the table happily, "I'm going to the capital tomorrow, I'll bring you along as part of my escort. It's about time you met my children, anyway."

He was surprised to have his little quandary solved so quickly and easily, though not ungrateful. That said, even as part of the lieutenant-colonel's escort, he could not just leave, not even on his authority. He had to fill in the necessary paperwork and present it to his instructor. Most importantly, as he would be on the lieutenant-colonel's escort, he would have to pass a background check. Only once he did so, and his approval was passed up to General Miselk Kor Priest, and signed, could he leave. Given the military nature of the college, and the courses it offered, all leave had to be personally authorised by the principal, who, in Prince Hansbach's absence, was General Miselk.

The soonest the approval would normally be granted was in two days. Despite the background check, the procedure would actually be simpler than if he asked for personal leave. He'd have to provide a compelling reason and an itinerary of where he would go and what he would do, and the checks would be much more thorough. Since he would not be departing on personal leave, but on duty, he would be under less scrutiny.

"Come by tomorrow, I'll pull a few more strings and have your request fast-tracked," he said.

The two chatted for a while more while Claude helped the lieutenant-colonel polish the dishes, then he left. He walked past the officer's mess and the cafeteria, and saw the cafeteria's lights still on. He entered. All the students were gone, only the staff remained, cleaning up the last of the tables and washing dishes in the kitchen. He spoke to the cooks and convinced them to sell him some of the left-over honeyed bread. They gave him a couple loaves, well bandaged so no one would recognise the packages, and he departed for home.

The washing was not on the lines when he arrived. He doubted they had had enough time to dry, so he suspected the next morning would be another maze thread. At the very least, it was not raining. The last two days had been surprisingly rain-free; he had even seen the occasional ray of sunshine break through the ever-present cloud cover. It was the middle of the thaw, and everything was wet. The melting snow soaked everything. Then the water, on its way to the sea in streams and rivers and swelling lakes, evaporated and made thick, pregnant clouds -- the rainy season. Kleibon sat high on a plateau, however, and was spared most of the winter snow, the air too dry for much snowfall. The worst it got was some frost on the roads.

An oil lamp hung on a stick plunged into the ground beside the well. In its auburn light sat Doris, washing a large pan. Natalie sat beside her, just outside the pool of light, drying a stack of bowls and plates.

Claude realised the wells up here, so far from the abundant waters of his hometown, were very important to the people. If the household that hosted him was average, then the well was the centre of homelife here.

The thaw was well under way, but it was still cold. Despite that, the well's water was warm to the touch. It rested well beneath the surface, where the upper couple centimetres of soil froze from the winter cold. Down there, the ground stayed much the same temperature year round, which meant the water was cool in the summer, and warm in the winter. The evenings especially were still cold, and as if to emphasise that fact, a puff of water vapour, just dense enough to be visible, poured over the sides of the well's walls and flattened on the ground before fading away. He knew the family drew water from it every morning to bathe; he would too if he didn't have his own bathroom.

"You're back. What smells so good?" Natalie asked, turning around at the sound of the horse's hooves on the ground.

He half cursed himself. He should have known she'd have a strong nose for food. He reluctantly handed over his wrapped loaves. He'd hoped to stash them in his room for later, but he knew she would not let him go now she'd sniffed something good.

"Honeyed bread. Made with egged flour. They were meant for special guests, but they didn't show, so they were handed out to us. I bought some for you guys."

"Oh, Claude, Deary. You're too nice!"

Natalie wiped her hands on her apron and accepted the bag eagerly despite her polite verbal protest. The wrapped loaves had hardly touched her hands when her nose stole a thorough sniff.

"Amazing! Actual honey and egg flour! Must be expensive! Thank you, Deary. Please do let me know if you need something, okay?"

Claude nodded.

"Not that much. It's not so much the price than that it isn't on the usual menu. It's not that easy to find egg flour made anything where the army is concerned, and I doubt it's too common in such a small village, not honeyed bread made with egg flour, at least, so I thought I'd get you some as well."

Claude had been unsaddling his horse and walking him down while they spoke.

"Let the old man do that, Deary. You must be tired," Natalie said.

Claude was already leading the horse into the stable to settle him in with fresh feed and water, however.

"It's no trouble, Aunt Natalie. I'm pretty much done already."

"Will you bathe tonight? If so, I'll put the water on the fire right away," she continued.

Claude shook his head.

"I washed up yesterday and I haven't done anything to sweat. I'll be fine with a towelling and a brush of my teeth."

"Alright. I'll send Doris up to fill your tank later, then."

"I can do it myself, thank you, Auntie. I prefer it fresh from the well. The tank's water cools down a lot, and quickly, too. I don't mind it generally, but fresh well water is easier on the skin than cold tank water.

"That reminds me, I'm heading to the capital tomorrow. It's for a few days, maybe three."

He thanked the old lady and made for his room. He caught a wiff of the two women's gossip in his ear as he entered the house.

"Just look at him," Natalie said conspiratorially, "Young, handsome, and with a bright future. And he seems quite well off, too--" she shook the wrapped loaves for emphasis, "Oh, why did he have to be married already? He'd have been perfect for Bena."

The last sentence caught in Claude's ear and made him trip over the sill to his room and nearly plant his face in the floor. Luckily, his reflexes hadn't rusted and he caught the door frame on his way down, arresting his descent.

Damn, that woman was desperate to wed her daughter. Thank the gods he was already married, or he might never get her off him. He didn't know if he could have trusted her to not send her daughter into his bed in the middle of the night to entrap him.

He lit the oil lamp on his desk. It was a loan from the family, though he'd bought the oil himself. He retrieved a chivalric novel from his pocket, one he'd nabbed from Manrique's bookshelf, and started reading.

Manrique had quite literally picked it up somewhere -- he couldn't quite remember where -- during their last campaign, and had read it to pieces since during the long days of doing nothing. He said he knew the story so well he could write one just like it in his sleep, if only he weren't so lazy.

Claude wondered if that was not how all these novels were written, just a copy of one the author had read in another novel. All the stories were so much the same he didn't think it was unlikely. This particular novel was somewhat different, however; its magus wasn't evil. He was not a good man, mind you, but not being outright evil was already a massive step up by Freian standards. He cared little for the lives of non-magi, but he did not actively try to ruin their lives. He treated them indifferently, much like a king might the servants that ran his castle. They were part of the furniture as far as he was concerned, not to be admired or aided, but not to be actively harmed, either.

They were not worth mentioning or considering when they became collateral damage to a fight, however, something made abundantly clear when the magus wasn't bothered by the destruction of several villages during a fight with a dragon he encountered during an excursion to find precious magic materials. The fight gravely wounded both parties, ending in a draw with both's withdrawal to lick their wounds, during which time the protagonist, the descendant of a noble, showed up.

He'd heard of the dragon and had come to slay it. Most of the novel dealt with his escapades on that quest, including the many evenings he spent with beauties of every stripe and colour. It reminded Claude a lot of the 'webnovels' of earth, especially all the beauties that tagged along with the protagonist for little reason other than that he was the protagonist. The hero did barely any of the actual fighting, leaving it all to his women, who also won him the people's admiration.

Despite his familiarity with this kind of story, even he was flabbergasted when the novel had the magus' daughter join the hero to avenge her father's defeat. She fell in love with the knight at first sight -- of course -- and stole her father's most precious equipment to gift to him. Naturally their love could not be allowed. She was a magus' daughter, after all, so she just had to conveniently sacrifice herself to save his life during the big final fight.

Heartbroken, the 'dragonslayer' hero abandoned the other beauties in his party and went his own way, vowing his undying love over the girl's grave before walking into the sunset, still wearing the stolen equipment.

Claude's cheeks were burning from several hours of constant cringing when he closed the book. Truly the protagonist could be described with no word other than 'scum'. He relied on his looks to seduce beauties, and then made them do everything for him, and got away with it. That said, his beauties were not much better. They were all after him for the bedding and possible wedding afterwards. Gold diggers in the simplest form. Not to mention that they weren't even worth much as characters. They're brains all stopped functioning the moment combat started and they had to be commanded like zombies by the protagonist.

If only he'd known what trash the story was, he would not have wasted his evening on it. He slapped the book down on his desk irreverently, and started to get out of his seat.

A soft knock on the door stopped him half-way. He heard Natalie's voice come half-whispered from the other side.

"You're not asleep yet, are you, Claude?"

Chapter 320 - Arrival in the Royal Capital

Manrique watched as Claude bumbled over with a large sack slung over his shoulder.

"What's this? You look like a refugee escaping with all your belongings..."

Claude smiled bitterly. He didn't think his old host couple would saddle him with half the house, all destined for their third son in the capital. He supposed it was better than them trying to push their daughter onto him despite knowing he was married, not much better, but better.

Despite its size, the sack wasn't that heavy. It was mostly clothing and blankets. The seasons were changing, and, despite their son being both an adult and a businessman who should be more than capable of looking after himself, his parents were doing what parents did best: acting like their kid couldn't blow his nose without their help. So they'd sent him the next season's clothing, an entire cupboard of it. The change of seasons was why Manrique was heading to the capital as well. He was going to see to the summer uniforms of the staff and student body.

Claude couldn't very well refuse his hosts, despite how unhappy he was to be saddled the errand boy title. Taking the sack to the capital was one thing, but to find their son in that haystack was asking too much. Nearly a million people lived in the city and the surrounding amalgamated and semi-separate towns and villages. Where was he supposed to find their son? Even with his search narrowed to just the royal guard, he still had dozens of outsposts and barracks to search.

Manrique had Lonkdor deliver their breakfast before they set off. Claude was both disappointed and somewhat relieved to see the meal much simpler than the one they'd had the night before. It was still extravagant, but at least it was within the range he could accept without feeling unduly envious of his friend. Their breakfast was made specifically for the road. A honeyed bread bacon sandwich, red tea, a bowl of wheat porridge, and a fried egg. On its own it didn't sound very extravagant, besides the honeyed bread, but both the porridge and the fried egg were spiced expensively, and Claude could taste the red tea was made of high-quality leaves.

They polished breakfast quickly, but unhurriedly, and finished the last of their preparations to depart. Only Lonkdor and Claude accompanied Manrique, the coachman went along as well, of course, but he didn't really count. Manrique had indeed pulled through. A man jogged over five minutes before their scheduled departure time with the signed papers approving Claude's inclusion in the escort.

They thus departed on time. Claude joined Manrique in the coach, while Lonkdor sat up front with the coachman, whom he would be relieving in a couple of hours.

Claude had the coach make a short detour to the staff entrance of the kitchen, into which he vanished for a short minute, and emerged with a large paper bag.

"It smells sweet," Manrique commented as the young captain took a satisfied seat.

Claude opened the bag conspiratorially to reveal half-a-dozen loaves of honeyed egg-flour bread.

"You can take one. Consider it a gift for the kids," Claude said.

"The bread from yesterday? How'd you get it? I asked for some this morning and was told they were finished."

Claude smiled mischievously.

"They were. I paid the cooks to make me these. I bought the ingredients as well."

"How much? I don't think they would have been willing to do it for cheap."

Manrique hesitated when he heard Claude had paid for everything. A treat for his kids or not, it was a little too much to ask.

"Don't be a stranger, man! Don't worry about the money. I wouldn't have thought about this if they hadn't served the bread yesterday. I was wondering what I should get your kids as a hello present when I thought of this."

Manrique smiled at the mention of his children.

"They'll love them, and I'm sure they'll love you. I was thinking of having a bite, but I would feel bad eating some of their gift. Keep it. You can give it to them yourself."

Kleibon was some forty kilometres from the capital, a full day's travel by coach. A full day ending at midnight. They would not get anything done today. They planned to head to Manrique's home to drop off their things, then stay in a room at an inn provided by the college.

Manrique would head to Army HQ the next morning to deal with his business, leaving Claude to do what he pleased. Claude planned to deal with Natalie's business first, then visit Baroness Maria. If he had time left after that, he would go book shopping. He hoped to return with enough to last him the year. If everything went off without a hitch on Manrique's side, they would depart the following day, if not, the day after.

They stopped at an inn for a quick lunch and switched out their horses. The road was unusually quiet, and they made good time, even making it to the capital an hour early. The city still only came into view on the horizon well after sundown, however.

"It'll be another hour or two before we reach the gates," Manrique said, "You used to be able to see the lake before you saw the city, but it's grown so much that you can't see the lake even from well within the city anymore. The king built the first city walls about a decade after the first stones for the castle were laid. They were designed to enclose the entire city, but by the time they were finished, the city had already grown so much, as had the kingdom, that everything inside had become the royal quarter, and the real city once again sat outside the walls.

"The second ring came several years later, but again, by the time it was finished the city had grown well beyond its boundary. Today the second ring marks the outer boundary of the inner city. Stellin I waited another five years after the second wall's completion for the city to finish growing before he had the third ring built. It covered 36 boroughs, and finally enclosed the entire city.

Of course, the city didn't stand still for long. By the time Stellin III came along, the city had double in size yet again. The cost of building another ring of walls would equal four years of the army's budget, however, and given how prone such projects are to going over budget, it was more likely it would have cost as much as a decade of the army's budget. The king decided it would be more prudent to defend the city with a strong army that would keep the enemy out of the kingdom entirely, rather than build a strong wall and let the enemy march all the way through his lands to the capital before facing them properly.

"He had to spend about the same amount of money on construction in the end, anyway. A powerful army was useless if it couldn't get to the enemy, so he commissioned the construction of the kingdom's now-famous road system. It was a prudent move, however, one that has since paid back its construction costs with interest. It allowed the kingdom to do away with powerful noble levies in favour of an army under the king's command.

"In recent years the city's finally passed the one-million-resident mark. It's still technically called 'Blackswan Castle', but no one uses that name anymore. Everyone just calls it the capital, or the royal capital, if need be. Even the government's official documents just use that instead, save the most official of archives.

"Despite the kingdom's massive road redo under Stellin III, the city's roads were still a tangle of swerving, swaying, and curling streets, most of which led nowhere until Stellin IX had much of the inner city torn down and rebuilt in orderly rings. The other city is still mostly a tangle thanks to it being an amalgamation of towns and villages rather than part of the actual city itself, save the large thoroughfares which were included in the road redo of old when they were still country roads connecting the settlements."

Claude had heard much of this in school, of course, but he let his friend finish the lecture he so clearly enjoyed giving. It wasn't all old news, luckily, Manrique was nothing if not an expert on the capital's history, and he seemed to take great pleasure in educating Claude -- the latter being the country bumpkin he was.

"The innermost part of the city, the part within the first ring where Blackswan Castle and the Rose Palace stand, is now known simply as 'the court'. The royals and their servants live there. The old inner city is split in half, one housing the government, including Army HQ. The other half houses the city's emergency stores in case of sieges, and the royal guards' headquarters, training facilities, and living quarters. It's off limits to anyone without express access. They call the area between the first and second curtain of walls the 'first ring'.

"The thirty six boroughs between the second and third curtain of walls has changed a lot since the reconstruction as well. The first and third boroughs house the government's lower officials and servants and their families. The second, fourth, and fifth boroughs are less important storage areas. The sixth borough holds the constabulary's headquarters and other facilities. The seventh to tenth boroughs are split between various keeper facilities, and house the keepers that watch over the outer city.

"The 11th to 22nd boroughs are open to the richest in the city. Not even most of the nobles can even afford a place there. Your baroness lives there. The 24th and 25th boroughs are dedicated to academies. It's known unofficially as 'Scholar's Quarter'. Ask the coachman and he'll take you to whichever academy, college, university, or school you wish.

"The rest of the boroughs are dominated by shops and various other businesses. Most of the city's people call it 'Haggler Haven'. Nobody knows the exact number, but I'm told over four hundred businesses are opened every day. Most of them close again within the year. It's not easy to make enough money to pay the high rent in such a competitive neighbourhood. The 32nd borough is especially tough. The port is there. The city's biggest river runs through there, too. It opens into Lake Bryanopest. The borough right next to it, number 33, is the capital's main distribution hub. If you can't find something in Haggler Haven, you won't find it anywhere in the kingdom, or -- I dare say -- on this side of the continent.

"Together, all 36 boroughs are known as the second ring. Outside of the third curtain of walls stand 72 sectors. Some of them are boroughs, part of the city proper, and some as any number of other things, part of the towns and villages. You wouldn't know the difference though, where one town ends and another starts is literally just a line on a map, the buildings certainly don't stop anywhere. It's all one big, continuous city. Twenty-eight of these sectors hold the city's factories, the biggest production centre on this side of the continent. My house is in the 41st sector, one of the boroughs. 122 Shortear-dog Street. We got the place after everyone was kicked out of the second ring."

Claude knew land seizure was very much a thing on Freia, but he'd not expected anyone to do it on the scale the kings of Aueras had. If anyone was unhappy about it, Manrique was not one of them, however. Claude wondered what compensation, other than the house, he must have been given to not be unhappy over the forced move.

"We're in the fourth ring now. Most of the nobles live here. Everything further out is farms and orchards. It's not really a ring, but everyone in the third ring calls it that so they feel like they're not the outskirts of the city.

"You see all those greenhouses? Most of them are brand new. Greenhouse farming became really popular last year, and many are still building new greenhouses this year. It lets us plant things that need a hotter climate than we have here, or grow our summer crops much earlier in spring, and much later into autumn. Those blackberries you had last night came from one such greenhouse. Naturally the produce is still much more expensive off season since they're still very rare."

Manrique watched the farmsteads and farmland roll by in silence for several minutes, then spoke again as they passed through the city gate.

"We're now entering the third ring. We should arrive in another ten minutes. Come to think of it, I've been away for three weeks. I wonder if the kids will be surprised to see me. Thanks again for the gift, by the way."

Claude smiled noncommittally. They were practically family, what was a loaf of bread between bond-brothers?

The night was pitch black, and had been for several hours, when the coach stopped in front of the lieutenant-colonel's home. His three children came running out of the front door several seconds after their father emerged from the coach. They nearly ripped him to pieces when they saw the bread. He quickly introduced Claude, making sure to mention he was the one that had bought the bread for them so they would rip him to shreds instead.

His wife was cut from the virtuous housewife cloth. She thanked Claude for the gift and the three children did as well, finally calmed by several stern glares from their father. The youngest, a girl in her sixth year, even gave Claude a kiss on the cheek.

Manrique and his wife's parents were already asleep, so Claude's introduction to them would have to happen another time. Their luggage was unloaded, and Manrique took Claude to the inn where he, the coachman, and adjutant would stay.

The inn had a weird name: The Boiling Steak. Manrique said their signature dish was grilled steak with boiled sauce, hence the name.

Though their trip was covered by the college, Manrique didn't order a feast. Everyone got the inn's signature steak, bread, soup, roast sausages, potato mash, and two mugs of blackwheat ale.

Manrique explained that, as much as he wanted to treat them, the college was very strict on any expenses on trips made on its purse. The people were to be fed, not treated. If they'd been staying at an inn outside the third ring, or just in one of the sectors that weren't boroughs, they could get much more for the same price, but this was officially part of the capital, and the capital had its own ideas on what was a fair price for food.

Manrique arranged three rooms, a guest room for Claude and Lonkdor each, and a storeroom for the coachman, then returned home. He had been itchy to get back since he'd greeted his wife with a kiss when they'd arrived. Claude doubted, tired and stiff as he was from the journey, he would get any sleep that night.

Claude, for his part, was just as tired, and would be doing nothing but sleeping. The women from the neighbourhood would not let him have that sleep easily, however. One came knocking every other dozen minutes, asking if he would like them to warm his bed, or some part of his body. He put an end to it with a somewhat aggressive 'Do NOT disturb me!' tag he drew and hung on his door handle.

Lonkdor was far less inclined to do just sleeping, however. And the moans of at least two women soon started leaking through the wall. It took a casting of Silence to finally give Claude the peace and quiet he needed to sleep.

Chapter 321 - Visit

'Natalie's third son, Fedra, worked in a small business: Woft. They dealt mostly with mountain goods from Kleibon and nearby villages. Natalie could get a position for her son there because her eldest son was the village chief.

When Claude bade Manrique farewell, he left with his large bag and hailed a coach to Haggler Haven. Woft was hard to find, however. Fortunately, Natalie had provided an address. It took about an hour to locate it. He waited another half-an-hour before he finally met Fedra.

Fedra was slightly fairer than his sister. He appeared a little slow, however. He didn't think much of his mother asking Claude to bring him his stuff. He didn't even thank him. Had Claude not reminded him, he would've forgotten to write a letter home as well. He scrawled a few words on a piece of paper and stuffed it in Claude's hands, annoyed.

Claude could only shake his head and put the letter away. The coach ride cost two royas, which Fedra didn't even offer to cover. Claude would certainly not do such a favour again. He would not go out of his way for something like this if the man didn't even appreciate it.

Claude took a walk around Haggler Haven, looking for a gift for Maria. Despite all his years in this world, he couldn't shake the custom of bringing gifts on rare visits. It felt wrong to show up on the doorstep of someone's you'd not seen in a long time without a gift.

Manrique's words were quickly proven true. Just three shops in Claude had already seen products from at least a dozen cities spread across the continent. He even ran into the famous Frostsaint fruit wine from the Icefield Peninsula in the continent's northwest. It was one of the three most famous wines in the world. Less than eight thousand bottles were filled a year, and most of them were quickly snapped up by the top royal and noble households. The price equalled its reputation. One bottle cost hundreds of crowns.

Claude seriously considered buying it, but decided he could spend his money on more fruitful things. It would certainly not be an appropriate gift. Maria, at the very least, would not accept it. He bought, instead, two bottles of less pricey, but still quite famous, wines.

He hailed another coach and headed for the eighteenth borough in the second ring. He stopped in front of Maria's residence half an hour later. They were stopped on the borough's boundary for inspection, but the officers were very friendly when they saw Claude, decked in full uniform, knighthood and all, and apologised for the intrusion. A rider was sent with them to escort them to Maria's residence.

The family had two residences in the borough. One was registered in her husband's name, and the other in hers. Her children and mother-in-law lived in Viscount Kartoff's manor, while she spent most of her time in her own. Her husband lived with her most of the time as well.

She preferred living on her turf, where she could call the shots. Deep connection with the king or not, she was always the daughter-in-law, the junior, to her mother-in-law in her husband's manor. In her manor, however, she could give the orders. It belonged to her personally, after all, not the family, and thus to the head of that family, her husband, as whose mother her mother-in-law had more say than her. She owned it personally thanks to the special permission the king had given her to inherit her father's title and properties despite being married into another family.

The baroness was not present, however. He was greeted by Rodan instead. He had run the real estate company into the ground, but Maria still trusted him, and so he now once again served as her butler.

Claude was brought to the guest lounge and Rodan tended to him personally. He informed the young captain that the baroness was currently in the palace and he didn't know when she would return. The king's old disease had flared up again and she was staying by his side. The illness had been getting worse in the last couple of years, flaring up more frequently and more intensely. Maria had, correspondingly, been spending more and more time at the palace to be with the king.

Claude had no intention to linger. He presented his gift to the butler and prepared to leave. The man would not let him, however. He said he wanted Claude to tell him how he'd made a success of the real estate agency. He was still troubled over its failure under his ministration.

Claude sighed, but indulged the old man with an explanation. The discussion was just reaching its peak when a lanky, middle-aged soldier marched into the room. Rodan broke off the conversation right there and saw to the man. Claude dropped everything immediately as well and snapped to attention, throwing a panicked salute. The soldier had two golden suns on his epaulette -- a lieutenant-general.

Viscount Kartoff.

The viscount had a healthy-fifties look to him, six years Maria's senior. His curiosity was piqued by the sight of the butler and the young captain in such an involved discussion. Rodan quickly explained that Claude was his wife's old disciple, Claude.

Claude hoped this interruption would allow him to leave, but instead he was held back yet again. The viscount was most curious about his experiences in the war, and the acts that had won him his knighthood. He appeared very fond of battle, and it seemed his greatest regret was that his rank prevented him from taking part in them. He understood his duty, however. As the king's most trusted military aide, his duty was to protect the capital.

Kartoff, unlike his frontline contemporaries, seemed to understand the importance of Claude's ranger forces. He had a particular interest in their new tactics, especially their non-standard guerilla operations. The Battle of Wilf was another of his particular interests. He had read the reports, but he dearly wished for a first-hand account, which he made Claude give him in excruciating detail.

Towards the end of Claude's recountings, the viscount pushed the conversations evermore towards how to incorporate the Mark 3 into his royal guards' armaments. It gave Claude the courage to discuss his thoughts on the weapon's design, and, more importantly, the tactics he felt best suited to its strengths. He was particularly adamant that the old habit of firing in regular lines of troops had to be discarded.

The last war, for example had cost one million and six hundred thousand lives, one million on the enemy side, and six hundred thousand on the kingdom's side. The kingdom could not fight wars regularly if such would be the losses each time. They had to wait at least a generation for their population to recover, and the economic impact of losing a quarter of a generation's manpower was immeasurable. The kingdom could have won a complete victory, rather than the partial one they had, had they kept the war going another couple of years, but they'd been forced to end it early because they couldn't continue to suffer such losses. If they could fight in a way that reduced their losses, however...

Claude was quite surprised at how the viscount threw away all etiquette and consideration of their ranks once the discussion got underway. As far as he was concerned, they were just two men sharing their thoughts on a topic about which they were both passionate. He even made a passing offer to transfer Claude to the royal guard so he could spearhead the integration of the Mark 3.

Claude politely refused. It was a prestigious thing to serve in the royal guard, but, as his old commander had said, the nature of what they did made it difficult to climb the ranks. The only real way to earn merit was with years of service. Serving in a combat unit was far more dangerous, true, but it also made it easier to climb the ranks quickly and earn merits.

The afternoon aged quickly and Claude prepared to leave. The viscount would not let him leave before they shared a meal, however. He sent Rodan to his manor to fetch his children to join them. He hoped openly the two might hit it off with Claude and become friends. He left it unspoken, but not uninsinuated, that he wished Claude's stories to inspire the two to more ambition.

Claude sighed. Clearly the viscount was unaware of the history between him and his children.

Both were physically attractive, and knew it way too well. Both brother and sister were arrogant and behaved like they were superior to everyone else in the world. The brother, Hertinger, was more upfront and crude about it than his sister, but Christie's superiority complex showed as well. She pretended to be pedantically polite, but her motions carried a kind of quiet arrogance Claude found almost more offensive than her brother's crudity.

Kartoff, however, was their father, and, as all fathers, could only see their strengths.

The two children, at least, knew how to behave in front of their father, much as they did in front of their mother. The confusion was evident on their faces, however. Neither could understand why their father was so impressed by the country-bumpkin captain that shared the table with them. Neither recognised Claude, so they showed him the due courtesy without much protest.

Hertinger's face turned green when Claude was formally introduced, however, then red, then ash-white. Christie started bobbing around in her chair like an agitated cockerel. The viscount, once again, bless his blind heart, missed both their reactions, and encouraged the two to spend some more time with Claude rather than their bumpkin lay-about friends. He even praised Claude as one of the army's most talented officers and beamed about what a bright future he had.

Talk eventually, and surprisingly subtly, turned to Claude's romantic relationships, and the viscount lamented quite openly his marriage, saying he'd hoped something might blossom between him and his daughter. Christie nearly threw up when she heard that, but managed to keep it in, and her brother lost what little colour he'd regained in the half-an-hour that had passed since the formal introduction.

Dinner was finally served and finished, but Claude was dragged to the viscount's study just as he opened his mouth to excuse himself. The viscount wanted to hear about the battle of Squirrel. He was apparently obsessed with it. He wanted to know how a single clan could defeat five thousand men.

An officer came to fetch the viscount for a meeting of the royal guard halfway into their discussion. The viscount asked Claude to stay on for the day so they could resume their talks that evening, but Claude politely refused. He said he had an engagement with Lietuenant-Colonel Manrique's family that evening and they were expected back at the college the next day.

The viscount would not let him leave until he'd written down the rest of the unrelayed account, however, so he stayed on another hour to finish the account. He walked out of the study to inform Rodan of his impending departure, but found Christie waiting for him outside, a scowl on her face.

She burst into a tirade the moment their eyes met, ordering him to stop misleading her parents to get back her land. Claude nearly snapped back at her, but burst into laughter instead. She really was quite the narcissist. He ignored her and left, leaving notice with Rodan at the front entrance where he ran into the butler.

Chapter 322 - Village Chief Chenova

Manrique's work was completed without a hitch. He returned home early that afternoon to prepare the feast for Claude and Lonkdor. His wife was cooking a modest but scrumptious traditional meal.

Claude had been confined to Normanley Manor for the better part of the day, so he didn't have any time to buy books. Manrique decided to stay another day so he could take Claude and Lonkdor around the city. They returned to Haggler Haven that afternoon for the bookstores, had supper, and departed thereafter. They would arrive at the college the next morning, just in time for classes.

Poor Lonkdor had to switch out with the coachman several times over the evening and looked like a frozen quail when the coach finally halted in front of the campus. Manrique let him have the day off and sent Claude home with another carriage.

The coachman helped him unload his trunk of books before heading back to the college. Claude stepped into the yard again just as Natalie was coming out of the house to start her day of chores and handed her her brother's letter before asking to be left alone for the day.

He and Manrique had slept most of the way back, but sleeping on a coach, on the road, was not restful, so he was still tired. He slept right through until mid-afternoon. He woke up fitfully and boiled some water for a bath.

Doris was alone in the kitchen. Awkwardness assailed Claude again as the memory of that evening came flooding back again. He even blushed when she asked him what he wanted like she'd completely forgotten about it. She quickly offered to help him when he said he was there to boil some water for his bath. She got started on the fire right away, so he went to the well to fetch water. Fifteen minutes later the pot was boiling and he thanked her before hurrying to his room with the water.

His room now only had a showerbucket, however. The tub had been removed. He waited for the water to cool to a usable temperature and had his shower. When he finished and searched his cupboard for something to wear, he realised the clothing he'd had washed had not yet been returned.

He poked his head out the window, careful to hide his bare chest, and called down to Doris for help. He cursed himself for not checking his cupboard before soaking his clothes. Doris knocked on his door a couple minutes later with a basket of his clothes, neatly folded, ironed, and starched where necessary.

Claude handed her a small bag of egg rolls as thanks. She fiddled shyly as she took them from him after several rounds of back-and-forth refusal and insistence. Claude stepped into the hallway for a moment to close the door, and found Zasrak standing next to it, staring at him grimmly.

"What are you doing?"

What did the man mean? He'd not done anything in particular.

Zasrak dragged him back to the kitchen whilst he tried to figure out what the man meant, and charged up to Doris, his eyes scanning her for even a single out-of-place fold or new wrinkle.

"What were the two of you doing?" he demanded when he couldn't find anything out of place.

"He thanked me?" Doris half answered, half asked.

"For what?" the old man demanded.

Claude noticed the egg rolls were nowhere to be scene.

"What are you insinuating? I came in here to boil some water for a bath. She helped me and when I noticed I didn't have my clothes yet when I'd finished, she brought them up to me. Am I not allowed to thank her?" he asked, his tone accusatory.

Doris nodded agreement with his explanation. The old man, with no evidence of any wrongdoing, harrumphed, let Claude go, and marched upstairs.

Damn old man! Claude had gone to the capital to take his precious son a freight of clothes, and this was how he thanked him? By accusing him of wrongdoing with his daughter-in-law? What kind of person was he?

Doris hovered around him, asking if he was alright. She apologised for her father-in-law's behaviour. She said he had always been like that; he was very suspicious of any interaction she had with other men.

Claude sighed, thanked her again and told her not to worry, then left for the college.

He had no transport, his horse still being at the college, so he had to walk. It wasn't that far though, so he arrived in about an hour. On horseback the trip would have taken just fifteen minutes, however.

The road was a little wet, but, thanks to the money brought to the village by the college, the roads had been repaved with cobblestone, so it wasn't the muddy mess most villages roads were after rain.

The village was less a settlement than rough collection of houses, still paced quite a far distance apart, with large vegetable and flower gardens and animal pens between them. As a result, despite the small number of inhabitants, it covered quite a bit of ground.

On his way to the college, Claude passed the plot of empty land where the tavern was to be built eventually. From the size of the plot, Claude surmised the tavern would be a fair bit bigger than the village's size merited, so they were probably hoping to rope in the college's students. It made sense, since they were mostly nobles, so they would have far more money to spend than the villagers.

Someone called out to him. He turned and saw a familiar face. He recognised the man when he heard a wooden plonk every second step as the man walked over. He was Aunt Natalie's eldest son, the village chief, Chenova.

The polite man was dressed in his old navy uniform, though it lacked epaulettes. Veterans who were dignitarians at the time of their retirement were allowed to keep their uniform and wear it as they pleased. Non-officers, however, could not keep their epaulettes.

It turned out he was wondering why Claude wasn't going to college on horseback, and, while he was at it, wanted to know how he was finding his stay at the family home. Claude indulged him with a recounting of a few of the major events, and asked why Zasrak was unenthusiastic about his presence.

Chenova smiled bitterly and apologised on behalf of his father. He said the old man didn't appreciate the army college. He believed it was destroying the village's tranquility. He himself was in favour of it, however. He was happy to see the business and new people it brought to the place.

"Kleibon is far from anywhere important. It's part of the land directly under the royal capital's administration, but they've not done anything to help us out. Not even our flowers sell well there. The road isn't very good most of the way to the city. It takes too long to transport our flowers, and they start to wilt soon after arriving in the stores, so they don't sell well."

Chenova had seen the wider world. He'd enlisted in the navy's marine corps, which had seen extensive service on Nubissia during his time in the navy. Eleven years in, he transferred to the local garrison in one of the kingdom's colonies there and was promoted to an officer. He was shot with a poisoned arrow during a skirmish with the natives and sent back home, discharged due to disability thanks to losing his leg to the poison.

He had learned his letters and numbers in the navy, and could thus read and write, unlike his father. He had had many mistresses during his career, but finally took a wife upon his return. Shortly after his father retired as village chief and he was appointed his replacement, being one of the only people in the village who would read and write and was a dignitarian. He lived with his father for a couple years, but the two had an irreconcilable difference of opinion at one point and he moved out.

His father was an isolationist. He wanted nothing to do with anyone outside the village, and wanted no one from outside to come into the village. He didn't interact much even with people from the village unless it was absolutely necessary, like when he had to collect taxes.

Chenova, having seen the world, wanted to open up the village and draw in outsiders to jumpstart the village's economy. His father naturally vehemently opposed it, and the two were forced to part ways as a result.

Their relationship deteriorated even further when he announced he'd won the bid for the college to be built in the village. It brought him great personal wealth, a reward for winning the bid, and shares in the soon-to-be-built tavern. He still had to find a way to spread the prosperity to the rest of the village. It meant little for the village if only he and a couple outsider merchants were enriched.

A thought brewed in Claude's mind as the conversation wound down, and he decided to share it with the friendly man. He had a solution for the man's quandary. It would require a lot of capital, however, and he was doubtful whether the village chief had the guts to take on such a large project. His worries were unfounded, however. Chenova grabbed him by the arm and begged him to tell him what his thought was, no matter how outrageous.

"Tobacco," Claude answered.

Chenova slapped his forehead.

"Of course!"

Why hadn't he thought about it himself? It was one of Nubissia's biggest exports. It had yet to be grown on the continent on a large scale. It wasn't difficult, but the market was so well established in the colonies, and it could be sold for much more as an 'exotic import' rather than a homegrown crop, that none of the big guilds and companies that monopolised the trade with the colonies, bothered with setting up local production.

The thought had come to Claude because he'd ran into some tobacco seeds in Haggler Haven. The price of tobacco, in the capital at least, would fall dramatically if Chenova could get the village to start producing it on a large scale. The big companies were not going to let that happen without a fight, and Chenova knew this. If he was going to do this, he had to be resolved to see it through to the end, come what may.

Claude smiled as the chief forgot about him entirely and started talking to himself, planning his moves, and went on his way.

At the college, Manrique informed him that the advanced strategy class would begin in two days. Everyone had finally arrived and all the equipment had been procured. General Miselk would be the class' instructor.

"Do I need to prepare anything?" Claude asked.

"No. You were picked on extraordinary grounds, so I don't know what is expected of you. Just go with the flow. You should bring at least a quill and notebook with you though. You'll need at least that. I have to warn you, you're the lowest-ranking officer in the class, so everyone will be scrutinising you."

Chapter 323 - Advanced Strategy Class

The advanced strategy class officially began on the 8th of the 2nd month. Claude had always been curious about the large wooden building near the field. He now knew it was a simulation space for his class. A sandtable occupied the centre third of the hall.

The class had 26 high-ranking officers. The most junior, aside from Claude, were majors. They spread around the sandtable as General Miselk stepped onto the elevated platform at the furthest end of the room. He explained that the course would study the recent war and identify the strategies the two sides had employed.

"--The enemy relied heavily on their superior fortifications," the general's speech continued, "hoping we would break ourselves against their walls like waves on the rocks. They only came down from their parapets and onto the field a couple times, at moments they could make a decisive strike against us with as small a risk as possible.

"They hoped to fight with as few troops as possible, since they had not been completely prepared for our offensive, holding us back while they built up their forces. Once we were exhausted, they would charge out with a massive offensive using fresh troops and run us through. While we have come out of this war with some conquests, and have defeated several of the Alliance's members, the wounds inflicted on us in the form of the men we lost, nullify those achievements. In the end, there isn't a clear victor. On top of that, we had to sue for peace, which had been their goal from the beginning. So, while we won territory and destroyed several of our foes, they held their ground and forced us to sue for peace after suffering such severe losses. At least in the short to medium term, we are actually in a worse position than we were before the war."

A soft murmur rose among the students. The students were chosen for their minds, so they also had a certain sense of pride. A sense of pride that did not enjoy the general's words, true as they might be. Their egos demanded they argue, but as the general rattled of statistic after static -- some of dubious accuracy as is unavoidable in war -- the murmur quietened. More convincing than the sheets of losses, were the undeniable facts of their unachieved strategic objectives. It was a deep embarrassment that they had to be the ones to sue for peace, despite being ahead in the conquest game. More than that, they had failed to conquer, or even subdue, their archnemesis: Nasri. At this rate they were still multiple wars away from conquering all of eastern Freia.

They'd even lost an entire corps, Bluefeather, a humiliation they'd not been able to return to any of their enemies. The expertise and skill they'd lost with Bluefeather was an equal blow.

"These losses, these failures, are why you stand here now," Miselk continued, "We will not stand for this happening again in the next war. We must learn from this and do better next time. If we have to reform our entire doctrine, then so be it. The force that showed the most promise during the war was the Ranger tribe. They've been promoted to a full folk; and we will start there. For a start, they will be issued only the new precision muskets. They will also be entirely mounted on the war horses we got from Nasri in the peace agreement. It is our responsibility to develop their doctrine, a doctrine centred around mobility, and skirmish."

Miselk's lecture continued for most of the morning. Among the many things he discussed, was that the students were expected to ruminate on the war and what could be learned from it for the next 20 days before the rainy season arrived, then each had to write a paper on their thoughts and how their side's shortcomings could be addressed.

A two-hour break followed lunch, then class resumed.

Miselk started off by telling Claude to recount his part and experience in the battles of Wilf and Squirrel. Claude nearly fell off his chair at the request. He had just a couple days ago recounted the whole war to Viscount Kartoff.

He understood why the general had made the request, however, so he sighed and got up from his seat. The general didn't want the other officers to look down on him for being so severely their junior. This was clearly not an on-the-spot decision; maps of the two location were pinned on the wall behind the general. The sandtable was quickly rearranged and figures prepared for the battle in the village.

Claude tread his way through the crowd of students and took his place in front of the maps. He took a deep breath, organised his thoughts and started, pointing at the map and sandtable as he went. The table was changed once he finished recounting the battle in Squirrel, and he spoke at length about the battle for Wilf. Once he was finished, Miselk returned to the platform -- he'd settled into a provided seat at the start of Claude's portion -- and provided a couple comments and observations. He praised Claude's tactics during the battle in Squirrel, and labelled it a feat of unprecedented value, a miracle in every sense of the word. It was made even more miraculous by the fact that he'd not faced a foolish enemy. The enemy commanders had conducted themselves and commanded their men by the book. None had made stupid or obvious mistakes.

Claude won thanks to a combination of his wit, and the advantage the terrain offered. Squirrel lay in a valley with only a couple, very narrow paths into and out of it. Claude could easily predict where and how the enemy would come at him, and he made perfect use of the terrain to nullify the enemy's greater numbers.

The battle, while a brilliant event, could not yield too much in the way of doctrine, other than emphasising the careful choice of terrain for smaller forces when facing larger forces. Much of the victory was because of the terrain, which meant it could not easily be replicated. That said, he did not underplay the importance Claude's chosen tactic in the victory. He discussed briefly the ten different tactics he tried out on the table to beat the scenario -- he lost every time. His best achievement was lasting half a month before he was finally overwhelmed.

Luck had also played a role in the victory, though it did in all battles, win or lose. Had it rained that night, or the wind blown too much or not at all, the fire would not have taken as well as it had, and enough of the enemy would have escaped to come at Claude again and defeat him regardless.

The general was much more interested in the Battle of Wilf. The scenario was absolutely generic; at least a thousand battles exactly like it had been fought during the fire years of the war. This battle, however, changed the army's doctrine fundamentally, and could easily be the most important battle in the entire war. Until this point, the Aubass Mark 3 had been seen as an ugly experiment that would soon be abandoned. At best it was a trinket used by those who wished to amuse themselves with the latest toy from the capital. No serious soldier even thought of using it. The Battle of Wilf changed all of that. The musket's widespread adoption in the months following the battle changed the army fundamentally. Even with the old tactics, the army became a deadly force, units could decimate their enemies long before they could fire back, and could lay siege to fortification without fear of return fire from anything but their cannons.

The fort's defenders were just three thousand strong, yet they'd held it against several attacks before, and had repelled Prince Hansbach's previous attack that day without much trouble.

"If we'd continued the fight using the old methods, we'd have lost at least another six thousand on top of the five we'd already lost at that point before we could even hope to take it. And that's if the men didn't break before ten. They were just keepers, after all, not as well trained or determined as regular soldiers.

"Claude here, but a sergeant-major at the time, was part of that final attack -- in the vanguard, in fact -- and he brought us victory. You all know why the first prince formed the ranger tribe. They were intended to be a counter to the enemy's superior cavalry scouts. Nobody expected them to be worth anything against fortified positions. The only reason they were part of this final attack at all was because the prince had no other forces to commit. They were deadly, however. Their accurate shots cast aside the fortifications and plucked the enemy from their hidey-holes like owls mice from their burrows. The rest of the army immediately adopted the tactic, and as the new muskets filled out the ranks our losses dropped like a stone plunged into a stream."

Miselk turned to Claude.

"If not for your victory at Wilf, the king would have recalled the Mark 3 and scrapped the tribe. We'd have kept fighting the enemy using the old doctrine, and we'd have lost more men with every siege. It's not unreasonable to say this war might have gone a very different direction than it did.

"It's almost shameful that our enemy were faster to catch on to the benefits, and to adopt our techniques, than we were in figuring it out ourselves. Then again, being on the receiving end does make for a good argument. It took them just three months to reverse engineer and make their own versions from some captured Mark 3s. Theirs are inferior to ours, of course, but the difference is small enough that we still suffered heavily once theirs came into service.

"It didn't help that, while we'd fully adopted the new musket, we were still using the old tactics on the battlefield. Marching in blocks makes sense when you have to pour out masses of lead in order to hit anything, less so when you can accurately put every ounce of lead where you want it even at ranges where your enemy can't shoot back at all. It's a shame on our officers that it took us so long to change our thinking to account for the new reality our muskets created. The most stubborn ones have been punished, of course, especially those that insisted on using the outdated tactics after the general directive was issued to adopt the new tactics, but their damage is done and it will take us years to recover from it."

Miselk swept his gaze over the 26 officers, all of whom stood ramrod straight, then nodded softly.

"I have fished you for this course because you each have unique insights to give. You have each proven yourself resourceful and creative with the new muskets. I hope you will continue to prove this in the Ranger folk after this course.

"Consider the next year in this course a grindstone against which to polish your mind, your understanding of the musket and how it can be used most effectively, and your tactics and strategies. I trust you won't disappoint."

The officers saluted, bellowing out the cry 'We shall serve our kingdom with loyalty and honour!' in unison.

The cry rang cliched in Claude's mind, but he could see the honest fervour on their faces. Claude echoed the salute and cry, though with much less conviction. His mind was already in the cafeteria.

And so the first day of class came to an end. The final announcement before they were dismissed was that the materials they were going to use during the course all came from the classified archives and that everything they wrote on it would go there as well until the final revised doctrine was published. They were not to peep so much as a word of any of it to anyone not also in the course.

They would also not have class during the rainy season. It was instead allocated as 'thesis time' and they had to use it to write their paper.

Chapter 324 - Rainy Season

Claude checked beneath his pillow. The ten coppers he had left there that morning were untouched. He had left six riyas unattended the whole day, and they had not been touched. This was the third day he had done this, and the third day he had found all ten coppers right where he had left them. The thief apparently only stole food, not money. How very peculiar.

Classes had now been ongoing for a week. He had sifted through heaven only knew how many classified documents from the archive. His hair had stood on end at some of them. One in particular had struck him quite hard. The report detailed the conquest of a small enemy fort on a nondescript hill somewhere near the coast in the east. The fort was defended by just a single band of men. Despite that, the attackers, who outnumbered the enemy several times, lost and entire clan's worth of men taking the hill. The officers had marched their men up the hills in close formation, in line of battle, muskets rested against their shoulders, through musket and cannon fire, without so much as shooting back, until they were just a couple dozen paces from the enemy, then opened fire. This would have been bad enough back when no one knew any better, or had any alternative, but this was months after that particular unit had been issued the new Mark 3s and trained in the new tactics. The officers had absolutely no excuse for what they did. There was absolutely no reason for them to march their men to their deaths. They had both the weaponry and the tactics to take the hill with minimal losses, but they'd chosen to march their men into hell.

Claude was absent for the entire day. He left just after sunrise, and returned well after sunset. It had taken him just two days to notice his food vanishing. He couldn't believe that he stole only food, however, namely, all the snacks he had brought with him from the capital. His egg rolls, his jerky, even his dried fruit, everything had been stolen. He wasn't particularly angry about it; he had bought it only because he had been worried he would be hungry the evening of their return, but it was still his food.

Not everything had disappeared at once, however. They were being consumed in bits and bobs every day. He knew exactly who it was; it couldn't be anyone but Halbena. She was the only one that came into his room. He had decided to test her before confronting her. If she stole food, she might steal money, so he left a couple coppers under his bed, where he knew only she would look when she changed his sheets. She had not taken the bait, however. It appeared she was just an uncontrollable sweet tooth, not that it made the fact that she was stealing any less of an offence. That said, he didn't want to ruin their relationship over some sweets, so he decided to just let it be.

Having put the matter of his little thief to rest, his thoughts returned to the class. He was quite surprised by how much he enjoyed the advanced strategy course. His classmates did not look down on him. Thanks to his little demonstration in the first class, they respected him as their equal and often asked his opinion or turned to him for advice.

He had also come to respect his classmates. He had originally thought they would be somewhat smart, but ultimately merely arrogant, nobles, but they proved to be as intelligent as him, if lacking the advantage of a previous life in a world where the tactics they were trying to develop were already outmoded. Their analyses were well thought out and logical, however, and he very much enjoyed debating the finer points of doctrine with them on those occasions they had differing opinions. The debates had refined his understanding as well and pointed out several shortcomings and blind spots he had missed until then.

The 3rd month was soon upon him, and with it came the rainy season. Class was dismissed for the month, so Claude took a pile of books home with him to read and reference while writing his paper. Most of the material concerned supply and staffing for his old ranger tribe. He had not known the full extent of the damage that blasted lieutenant-colonel's damned counter-scouting operations had done. They lost the equivalent of two whole tribes during the time they were under his command.

The fool recruited complete amateurs and gave them the army's most advanced weapon, then sent them off to die and hand over that same weapon to the enemy. Eventually volunteers ran out as everyone got to know what happened to 'Rosley's Bastards'. That didn't stop the man from getting his meat. He switched to taking on rule breakers. He turned the ranger tribe into a penal tribe. Rosley's Bastards became Rosley's Victims.

Claude was certain he would be long dead if he hadn't taken the bastard out during the attack on Wilf. Hell, not only he, but every other poor bastard in the tribe with him at the time would be dead.

He had, however, and with the bastard's death, the tribe fell to Claude, at least temporarily. He'd taken immediate action, and it had saved the men's lives. It had also been the first step on their long march to glory.

He intended to report everything he remembered of the war, especially the period between Rosley's death and the tribe's expansion to four tribes during which he had overhauled the tribe's operation.

He already had a rough draft in his head before he started poking around the archives. Now he just needed to statistics and references to flesh it out into a full paper. That was the most boring part of it, however. Coming up with the narrative and decided what to say where was interesting, but doing the finger work to actually write it down and add references and the like... that was soul-breaking work.

He woke up the next morning to the soft drone of a gentle grey drizzle, and just stared at the ceiling, unwilling to get up and start writing the paper. He considered going to campus to get breakfast, but he didn't feel like making the trip just for food, especially not in this weather.

He wondered what was cooking for breakfast, then realised he had not told the landlady whether to make food for him during the rainy season or not. He counted pennies in his head quickly, deciding whether he had enough to pay for the food.

He sighed and shoved himself out of bed laboriously. His door clicked, then opened slowly. It came to a creaking halt and a figure jumped in.

Claude stared at the figure for a dazed moment. Had he not locked his door the previous evening?

The figure was Halbena, of course. Her feet had barely touched the floor but she was already making for the table by the window on which his bag of snacks lay. The once bulging bag had been reduced to a mere shadow of its former self. Only a couple of the things were eaten by Claude, the rest had gone down his snack thief's throat.

Now only a small metal box with a couple pear-syrup candies. It was probably the capital's most famous, and expensive, delicacy. Each box cost an entire thale.

The girl's hand flicked out expertly and snatched the box. Her finger snakes inside and extracted a single candy. It slipped into her mouth and she closed her eyes and savoured the sweetness. Her face saddened several long moments later, and she replaced the box in the bag.

Claude had to fight to keep his laughter in. He had bought four boxes, three of which had gone to Manrique's children during his visit. His eldest daughter had given him one of her candies to say thank you, and when she had done that, he saw there were only ten candies in each box. He knew there weren't more than three left in his now. They were very delicious, so he could understand why the girl restrained herself and had only one.

She turned around to get started on the room... and froze as she, finally, noticed him. She screamed as if he were the thief. Her voice was so shrill it made his ears ring, drowning out the voices of concern raised from elsewhere in the building.

The house's three other occupants stormed into his room at almost the same time. Their eyes immediately fixed on him, still in bed, and glared death his way.

"What did you do to Bena?!" Zasrak bellowed, his fists already coming at Claude's face.

"Bena, what happened?" his wife asked as she consoled her daughter.

Doris' eyes darted between the two a couple times, then she clicked her tongue and shook her head, disappointed at Claude's low standards.

Claude blocked Zasrak's fists easily, his own face reddening in fury.

"What did I do?!" he hissed venomously, "Ask your daughter what she did! I was just laying in bed when she barged in and started screaming! My ears are still ringing!"

He very nearly spilt all the eggs, but then decided not to. Girls like sweets, he knew it all too well. Immoral as it was for her to steal from him, the guilt she now felt, and the shame of being caught red handed -- or yellow mouthed, as the case may be -- was enough for him.

Halbena finally calmed down. Everything from her shoulders to her ears and hairline was red, but she could finally think straight again.

"W-why aren't you at the college? You surprised me!"

Claude gave a curt explanation, making his displeasure at her thievery known to her through his tone, though he said nothing. Despite Claude being the victim, Zasrak behaved like he was a criminal who'd escaped justice and barged out of the room coldly.

What was with the damned old bastard? What did he think Claude was? He didn't even apologise for trying to beat him up without giving him a chance to explain himself. The old fool better not have anything to say about Claude not being polite in the future. He'd get more than an earful if he did.

Natalie caught the anger in his eyes and apologised on her husband's behalf for how they'd behaved, and scolded Halbena thoroughly. She also sent Doris downstairs to prepare breakfast for him.

Claude latched onto the chance to change the subject and the two settled on remuneration for the meals. He asked that the food be brought up to his room. He didn't want Zasrak to sour his meals with his sour face.

Natalie left with her daughter after collecting the laundry. Claude offered a generous thale for his food as they left. He did not expect anything more than what the family would eat, a plate of healthy food was enough for him. He'd lived on army rations for five years, so even just fresh vegetables would be an improvement.

He got more than that for breakfast: two eggs, black bread, a portion of salt, butter, and a bowl of porridge. He was about to ask if they had sausages, but noticed Zasrak staring death at him through the window from outside.

His appetite deserted him instantly. Damn that old man! He nodded to Doris and blurted a curt thanks before waving her out. She left without a word. She returned a quarter of an hour later to collect the dishes. Despite his best efforts, Claude had only finished the eggs and porridge. He asked her to leave the black bread. He would have it a little later.

As the girl closed the door and her footsteps and the wooden clonk of the dishes faded down the corridor, he noticed the sound of sawed woodwork from outside. He glanced through the window and saw the old bastard working on something. He had not thought the old man knew carpentry. He was not interested in the old bastard or whatever he was up to, so he focused his attention on his work.

Lunch came, he ate, and the dishes were fetched in much the same way breakfast had transpired. Claude wanted to take a quick nap, but the old bastard was still at it in the yard and the noise kept sleep away. The sound finally stopped, but just as Claude felt sleep finally envelope him, the bastard started hammering at something by the stairs, and the sound reverberated up and down the walls, waking him again.

He slapped the wall and got up to make some red tea. Doris was the only one in the kitchen. She sat in front of a dead candle, her mind elsewhere. Her one hand rubbed a stick about the thickness of a cucumber. What on earth was that for? It didn't look like a rolling pin.

She only responded to his calls with the third one. Her face reddened when she noticed him and she fiddled with the stick, desperate to find a place out of sight to put it. She only calmed down after she stuffed it in a drawer and slammed it shut, taking a deep breath as she did so.

"What do you want?" she asked as calmly as she could.

"I want to make myself some red tea. What's Zasrak up to?"

Her face reddened slightly at his question.

"He made a door for the stairs. He wants to lock it at night."

The f*cking arsehole! Claude nearly shouted it, but caught himself and contented himself with blasting his thoughts at the old geezer and hoping it would give him a heart attack.

Chapter 325 - The Hole Under The Bed

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Chapter 326 - Inadequacies

Claude was quickly beginning to regret his amorous adventures. He had woefully underestimated the succubus' drive. He was certain that were it not for the need for secrecy he would be tied to the bed the entire day. A cow for the milking.

He had done far less than he had in his previous world, but he still had his fair share of conquests. He gave his virginity to Baroness Vaskiri. She had not sought out sexual encounters since her husband's death years earlier, and was very passive in bed. Sheila had been his second woman. They'd shared sweet summer love, which, as all summer romances must, had come to an end, though they still frolicked on the bed, the floor, the couch, the table, and against the walls, well, and nearby trees, in his dreams. Kefnie was his third, though he would of course never tell her that. His first was passive by nature, and the other two had been completely inexperienced and so easy to dominate. His entire life, both lives, in fact, he had been the dominant one, he had been the driver of when and where copulation happened, and in each event he dictated the rhythm.

Now, however, he was the submissive one. Doris had taken complete control. She decided when, where, and how they hopped. The two barely spoke two words when they weren't naked and sweating. In front of others she completely ignored him, even glancing at him coldly. Once the clothes went, however, she was a succubus, a mistress, at times even a dominatrix. For the first time in Claude's two lives, he was the one hesitating when new positions and scenarios were brought up. Worse than her adventurism was her amorosity. She ripped his clothes off every chance she got, and once they were off, they usually didn't come back on until sunrise. Over the last week she had drained him so much he had to support himself as he walked, and couldn't stand for more than a couple of minutes at a time.

Claude had finally drummed up the courage to tell her enough was enough when she appeared to have finally sated her pent-up lust. For the first time since they had started their debauchery, she was done after a single expulsion. A couple days later, she stopped coming all together. Apparently her time had come. Claude praised the heavens for giving him a couple days' reprieve.

He had not let their escapades go to waste, however. He had pushed the succubus to reveal more about her past and why Zasrak was so cautious about her being around males. He learnt that, while she was the old bastard's son's wife, she could not go with him to the capital because she was a fugitive. She had eloped with him from her previous husband, a butcher in the capital, which was a crime. If she returned, she would be imprisoned.

She said it had not been her choice to marry the man. She had been just sixteen when she was given to the butcher in payment of the debt they couldn't pay. Selling people into slavery was illegal, but the informal collateral, which became a marriage upon recall, fell through one of the loopholes. She could not wed him until she was eighteen, but that didn't stop him from bedding her on the first night she lived with him, still just sixteen.

She was his wife in name only even after the marriage. He treated her like a slave. She was often beaten over the smallest of mistakes and sometimes for no reason at all. The only thing the butcher wanted from her was children, which he never got. He blamed her for the infertility, yet another reason to beat her every time he saw her.

The butcher was the primary supplier of the royal guard barracks' meat and Wilkney, Zasrak's son, was usually the one to come pick it up. The connected quickly, though they never loved each other, or were even attracted in any way. Their marriage was a transaction, much like the one that had gotten her with the butcher, though this one she entered voluntarily. She got her freedom, or at least she got rid of the butcher, and Wilkney got a pretty wife.

Their marriage was not legal, of course, since she was already wedded to the butcher, but everyone in town, everyone who mattered, at least, considered it as binding as any other marriage. As such, her frolicking with Claude was fornication, adultery. She cared little for such things, however. She'd already broken one marriage, and her current one, while far from unpleasant, was a business transaction, and agreement between individuals that benefitted both, not a vow between parties in love.

Wilkney saw it exactly the same way. He wanted a pretty wife for the sake of having one. He had absolutely no interest in bedding her. He much preferred to be bedded himself. He was not part of the royal guards logistics department. His running frequent errands for them, such as picking up the meat, was just an excuse to spend more time with his lover, the commander in charge of the department.

Neither of his parents knew of their son's proclivities, hence his need for a wife. They very much hoped the two would give them a grandchild soon. On the few occasions their son returned, however, he never so much as set a toenail in her bed, much less penetrated her. Things had been like this for five years now, and she could hold it no longer. She'd not been penetrated by a male in all that time, not even once, and it was driving her insane..

Batting for the other team was very much a sin on Freia. A world constantly in need of youth to replace the elders killed by illness or war could not tolerate any players not doing their part. They were, in a very pragmatic and practical sense, a plague on the species. Society protected, raised, fed and clothed its members so they could make offspring. Anyone that couldn't, or wouldn't do that was a waste, a parasite draining valuable resources that could be far better spent on someone else. In such an age, few people articulated the situation in such straightforward terms, of course. Instead homosexuals were pathologised as demon-tainted. Few people, however, knew the full extent of homosexuality amongst the uniformed. It was understandable, when all one had to work with was male, one made it work, and learned to like it. Or perhaps it was the other way around; perhaps those already batting in that direction sought out the military for the abundance of candidates it offered.

Regardless, many made arrangements similar to this pair's. A wife at home, perhaps a baby in the belly from an unseen third party, was good cover, enough to satisfy those too curious for their own good that the man was doing his part, leaving him free to give, or take, his homoerotic love as he saw fit.

Claude's guilt vanished when he learnt of their arrangement. He felt nothing for the parents, but he did feel bad for her husband. He would not be happy if he were to return to Kefnie and learn some other f*cker had been plumbing her depths in his absence. Given this husband's proclivities, however, he doubted he would have a complaint. He might even be grateful to Claude for filling in. His last reservation gone, he fully enjoyed his rainy season at home, making lots of his own rain.

The rainy season quickly came to a close and Claude once again had his meals on campus. He was happy to do so, too; the old woman didn't have much of a repertoire in the kitchen, and he had grown tired of the same bowl of soup or porridge after the fifteenth time eating it.

His report found itself on General Miselk's desk on the first day of classes as well. Claude took a few minutes to explain some of his main arguments with the general and a couple other officers also there to hand in their reports before heading to the cafeteria.

Despite classes having started, the first couple of days were quite leisurely, until General Miselk brought five other generals with him on the 7th. They took their place by prepared chairs on the platform and Miselk dove right into the reports without introducing them. Much of the day was spent reviewing their reports and running scenarios on the sandtable.

They started with the worst of the reports, and worked their way to the better ones. Claude was happy to see his report not mentioned in the first couple of hours. He was not in the top three, however, barely making fifth. While Miselk had few criticisms of the content of his report per se, he said its scope was too small, that it failed to consider the war at large. It was an excellent report for junior officers, which Claude, admittedly, still was, but inadequate for those dealing with the larger war effort. He had written a report on tactics, not strategies.

Claude was somewhat dissatisfied with the general's assessment. But he could not argue with him in front of so many other big figures. A full day was dedicated to each of the top three reports, evidence of their scope and depth, and they showed Claude how much he had failed to consider.

Claude's report was complete for the scope within which he'd written it, considering every single variable of every operation, but it lacked breadth, it failed to posit solutions to the grander questions of strategy, questions essential to the formulation of army doctrine. Most crucially, all his suggestions dealt only with a single unit. He had not considered coordination or cooperation with other units at all. War could not be won with one unit, and so he had failed to win the war, settling for the battle instead.

No matter how well a single unit did, if the operation needed two units to succeed, and one failed, then the greater battle was lost even if the first achieved all its objectives flawlessly. If two units had to hit a position at the same time, and one was ten minutes late, the attack would fail no matter how good the tactics of the first unit. At the same time, colonels and generals could not take command of every unit in the battle, not when there were dozens of units spread over as many kilometres. They had to give the grand objectives and trust their subordinates to figure out how to achieve them on their own. And their grand goals had to be robust enough to succeed even if one or two of their units failed to achieve their smaller objectives.

The four who had done better than Claude had all written on grand battles or entire campaigns. They abandoned tactics for strategy, relinquishing that to their subordinates. It was a very humbling experience, though Claude couldn't be blamed for his lack of scope. He had only commanded on that level so far, whilst his contemporaries had had months, sometimes years, of training and experience on the larger scale. What little he knew of such things was all from his previous life, and his obsession with military thought.

Harvest season started with the end of the 4th month. Doris naturally worked in the fields the whole day and was usually too tired to play around, so Claude finally had free evenings again. Well, evenings free from her, at least. He had his own occupations.

The time had come to begin working on preparing the new Ranger folk, and everyone in the advanced strategy class was occupied. The grunts that would form the fighting bulk of the folk were also arriving, streaming in on carts and carriages daily. They were fed onto the training fields as they arrived and began wargaming the various tactics and strategies the class had developed in their many reports over the preceding months.

Major Skri was among them, now the chief of logistics, and brought good news. Most of the officers from the old tribe would be promoted at the end of the year and Claude's name was on the list.

Claude wondered why. Why would they promote so many new officers when they had so many available from the many units that were disbanded after the war. Certainly they could simply take their pick from those battle-hardened veterans.

Skri just slapped his shoulder and told him not to think too much of it. No other unit in the army was going to see such promotions. It was both a compensation for their unique levels of suffering and their substantial contributions, and a way to fill the new folk with officers experienced in the use of the tactics that would be its mainstay. The loyalty such promotions would win from the officers for the royal family was also no minor consideration.

Loyalty was a major concern, and bringing in officers from other units severely risked the integrity of the unit's loyalty. The first prince had raised this concern more than once with his father, the king. Promoting peasants up the ranks stopped the nobility from getting their claws in the unit, clobbering two birds with one stone.

The next four months were spent, aside from sorting out the details for the folk, on running countless scenarios on the class sandtable, or on the field with real troops, and invariably writing more reports on them. Any scenario involving tribe-level forces or below were won by Claude, at one point his opponents simply started surrendering at the start of the match to spare themselves more embarrassment. All his peers had tried their hand at outwitting him, but he would come up with a new outlandish tactic just as they thought they had a counter down for his previous one.

When the troops became larger, however, the situation was reversed. Claude lost almost every match he fought. He just couldn't get a grasp of the complexities of grand command since he lacked the years of training his opponents had. He had no lack of innovative ideas, but he didn't have the ability to control his officers at the level necessary to make them work, and his subordinates lacked the skill to be left to their own devices so he could focus his finite faculties elsewhere. Claude had never fought on large scale field battles, since he'd served in the light infantry his entire career, and as such was unfamiliar with the heavier equipment, such as larger cannons, at play in these scenarios.

Nearing the end of the four months, however, he had picked up enough bits and bobs from his readings and from the class analyses of his losses, that he had started winning about a third of his battles with lines. He was still completely hopeless with folks, however.

Despite his still-poor performance, everyone, even General Miselk, admired his determination and quick progress.

The folk marched out of campus for a long field trip after the harvest festival in the 9th month. They marched from the village to the former border of Askilin and Canas to pick up their ten thousand war horses. The journey took two months round-trip, and they marched back in through the campus gate at the end of the 11th month.

Chapter 327 - Family Correspondence

Claude stepped onto the podium and gave a salute.

General Miselk reciprocated and took two steps forward, removed Claude's three-black-star shoulder mark, and switched with one with a silver moon. As of that moment, Claude was a major.

It usually took between five and seven years to be promoted from captain to major in peacetime, and only with three good-performance awards. Claude was just 25 and hadn't served for even seven years nor did he have the training for his new rank. He had shot up in the ranks by achieving one miraculous feat after another on the battlefield. He was a legend.

The year-end promotion ceremony saw only 7 of the 26 students in the advanced strategy course promoted, and all by just one rank. One was promoted from lieutenant-colonel to colonel, the other five were promoted from majors to lieutenant-colonels. Claude had just stepped into the upper ranks.

The ten officers already above major were not present for Ranger folk's promotion. Major Skri was among them, and now he was lieutenant-colonel. It was more like compensation for the accusation against his honour following the end of the war.

Despite Claude's efforts to have him acquitted, which were successful, his unit's achievements were still stricken from the record because of their loss of the territory won by their achievements. The only accommodation was that their dead's families were not denied their pensions.

Now, the officers, both commissioned and not, of the old ranger were finally fully repaid for the injustice with their promotion. Myjack, a master-sergeant at the war's end, was now a sergeant-major. Gum, a staff-sergeant at the same time, was now a master-sergeant. Moriad and Dyavid were both now first lieutenant. Berklin was less fortunate. He had been part of 2nd Ranger, which was the principle guilty party in the retreat, and was resultingly not promoted.

It was now the 30th of the 11th month, Year 582, Sacred Light Era. The day of Claude's promotion.

It was one of the most significant years of his life; it was the year of his entry into the upper ranks, as well as the year his first son was born to his wife -- a healthy boy, brought into the world on the 25th of the 8th month. For the first time in his life, in both lives, he had offspring. He, of course, was, as of yet, not aware of it.

He had only just returned from his latest trip to Great Plains to receive the third batch of war horses. He'd not had time to read his letters yet. He did so soon after his promotion, which happened the same day of his return. He hopped around his room like a child when he read the letter from his wife. He booked the sole tavern in the village, and held a celebration. He desperately wanted to ask for leave to go see his newborn son, but restrained himself. He could ask for a month's leave at most, and the trip would consume most of it. The logical choice was to hold off for another year and take a longer leave of absence.

He read another letter from home written by his sister, about a month after the one from his wife informing him of the birth. She informed him that his wife and child were doing well. Kefnie had named the boy Tesoray Ferd, as they had agreed before his departure. In Ancient Hez, it meant ray of hope. She also sent news of his mother's recovery, helped along substantially by the new life in the house, on which she doted even more than she did his younger brother when he was of a similar age.

Speaking of his younger brother, when he checked the letter for any secret, magical, writing, as had become habit, he found another message from his sister, regarding the little twerp -- though now not so little anymore. He was fifteen, and had been tested for aptitude in magic, which he had passed, though just barely.

According to Landes, a score of 8 was excellent, indicative of substantial talent. While Bloweyk had scored 7, that was after his fifteenth birthday, the score of 8 was excellent only in individuals tested at the age of 12. By the age of fifteen, it should have been a considerable amount more by now. It was enough to learn magic, but the chances of him amounting to much was, put politely, insignificant -- and that was by the standards of Landes' time, when resources with which to train people were far more significant than they were now.

The best choice would have been to simply not teach the boy magic at all, to not even reveal its existence to him. Unfortunately he'd learnt of it already, and he had shown significant interest in it, which made not teaching him more dangerous than teaching him. Were they to not sate his curiosity, with his rebellious age in full swing, and his unfamiliarity with not getting his way, he would no doubt seek out other ways to learn what he desired, and given the current state of the world where magic and magi were concerned, that would be most dangerous. Teaching him, was not much better an option, however. The boy had a rash and arrogant nature, and he lacked both his siblings' sense of propriety and thoughtfulness. He was a bragster, and there was a serious danger that be would impulsively reveal his knowledge of magic to his friends, which would bring ruin down on the family. Angelina knew not what to do with the boy and hoped her brother might have advice.

Claude put down the letter. His thoughts turned to his parents. Magical talent was genetic, so for all three of the children to have an aptitude for it, and two to be substantially capable, they must both carry impressive genes, if not have a great aptitude for it themselves. If only they could have been aware of it in their youth, if only they had had time to develop it. His father was dead already, however, and his mother too old to start now.

He remembered something he'd read in a book in the cave library of Sheila's mother. The firstborn to two magi almost invariably had enough aptitude to learn magic, though the calibre of their talent varied significantly. Any subsequent heirs might or might not have talent, but there was little pattern to it. Whilst the child did not always have as much talent as their parents, the child almost never had significantly more talent than their parents, and rarely any more at all.

Was the book to be believed, and Claude had no reason not to, then his parents had to have considerable aptitudes, given him and his younger sister, even Bloweyk, the fourth child, though having nothing much, still had something. Did that mean his brother could have been even greater than him and Angelina? He thanked the heavens that his brother, with his personality, never came upon his talent. The damage he could have done to the family... it made Claude shudder. Luckily his years had passed, even if he trained every waking hour of every day for the rest of his life he would never be able to be Claude's equal as the latter was now, despite the latter's lack of training of the five years he'd been at war.

Aptitude and talent were only worth something if cultivated. If left untended, they were worth as much as a fallow field. Less, even; for a fallow field still had the potential to be cultivated, but talent had a shelf life, and if left untended, it would expire. Geniuses were rare not because the world lacked talented people, but because it lacked people that cultivated their talent.

People had one crucial ability that could up-end such things, however: the ability to push themselves beyond their limits, to change their fate. So Claude decided to give his little brother the chance to do just that. It would all depend on him, however. No one could change another's fate, only their own. He wrote a reply to his sister about mundane matters, and a second letter over the first in invisible ink telling her to give not-so-little Bloweyk the cookbook and let him learn Ancient Hez.

What he lacked in talent he would have to mend with hard work and perseverance. It might take him his entire life, and he would have to sacrifice any hopes at a normal life, even more so than either of his elder siblings had to, but if he stayed true, he might just make it to five rings. If he got any further... well, if any of them got any further, was as yet an unknown. All the perseverance and talent in the world could not take them one step beyond five rings without the right materials, and volumes of them.

Sheila's mother had written that nobody had advanced to six rings since the fall of the magi, even on Siklos.

It was in the pursuit of finding a way to do just that that Sheila's mother had departed for Nubissia, that a mother had left behind her young daughter.

A single letter had thus decided Bloweyk's fate, or at least what fates were possible for him. Claude decided to test his little brother's progress when he eventually returned for another visit, and decide then whether he would give him any guidance.

Claude watched as the words slowly faded, leaving behind only the mundane letter. He waited for them to vanish entirely before folding the paper, placing it in an envelope, and sealing it.

The mundane letter informed his family of what had happened since last he had written to them. He expressed his absolute giddy excitement at becoming a father and his wishes to be with them. He wrote a paragraph on his promotion, and about how it meant his three family members were thus dignitarians once again, for a few years until his little brother took over the household, at least. They could not enjoy the benefits of the status of someone not the head of the household, and Claude was only the household custodian whilst his brother was still underaged. Once his brother became an adult, he would take over the household -- as was his right -- and as a peasant, his family would lose their benefits. His wife would maintain hers, as she would be part of his household, of course, but not his family, who belonged to Bloweyk's. For his sister's part, until she married, at least.

Amongst the benefits were a partial exemption from certain taxes, such as those related to business. They would thus pay less taxes on the rent they earned from the apartments and shop lots they leased.

The females in the household would also retain the privilege of invitation to balls and banquets. They could be invited to such by other dignitarians in the city. It did not guarantee they would be, of course, but it did make it so they could. Claude had little doubt they would be invited to all such occasions, however; they were his family, after all. He was about as much of a celebrity in the city as one could be without being a royal.

His mother and sister would certainly attend such events. His mother prized her reputation too much not to, and his sister would go to look after her mother. His wife was never fond of such occasions, but she went out of a sense of duty to his sister and mother. Now, with her child, however, she would not hesitate -- and she would be right to do so -- to decline to stay home and look after the infant.

He hoped his sister would do more than just look after their mother during those events, however. She was already twenty, quickly becoming old for a woman yet unmarried. A couple more years and men would abandon her in favour of younger prospects.

He explained why he could not return immediately to come see his son, but promised he would do his best to come see them in a year. He could not promise he could come -- everyone knew the future was never certain in the military -- but he promised he would try. His time would be very constrained, however, which made his visit much less likely. The folk would be just finished with its formation and he would still have much to do in his new post to get everything in order and running smoothly.

Of all the perks of his new rank, Claude was most grateful for his: any letter written to him, or by him, would be hand delivered by a dedicated courier. None would get lost in the mail, or sent to the wrong place ever again. The only way they would not reach their destination, was if they were stolen off the courier's corpse. A courier could only improve the certainty of the delivery, however, not the time it took to deliver. A reply thus didn't arrive until just before new-years.

It was penned by his sister, but came from the entire family. They were very worried because they hadn't heard from him for two months. They were very happy to finally hear back from him, and both surprised and elated by what he'd written.

Angelina had once again written a secret letter. She promised to do as he said regarding their brother. She wouldn't teach him magic just yet, instead she'd have him focus on learning Ancient Hez until Claude could return and test him himself. If he couldn't learn the language by the time Claude returned, they could tell him to forget about magic together.

She said her mother and brother were most happy to be able to attend high society's social events again, but she was most dissatisfied with Claude's suggestion that she start hunting for a suitor. She said she had no interest in such carnal things, Her only focus was magic. A suitor, much less a husband, would only distract her.

Claude smiled helplessly as he put the letter down. He almost wished she'd written her little tirade in the normal letter so her mother could read it and give her a good lecture. Then again, the old woman would no doubt take it upon herself to find a husband for her daughter, and Claude didn't want someone else to choose his sister's other half, not even their mother. He would never go against his mother if she did, of course, but if he could avoid it, he would.

Despite his desire to just abscond from the town and not go to the event at all, Claude fulfilled his duty and attended the college's new-year's celebration. Skri met up with him during the evening and shared an interesting bit of news. Once their training was complete, General Miselk would resign from the college and take up his post as the new folk's folksman.

Chapter 328 - Special Independent Tribe

"Huh? Why did you come back? Isn't Wilkney here for his break?"

Claude watched as Doris slipped down through the hole using her roll of sheets.

Doris squirmed into his bed and said, "I asked him to come back."

"Huh? What do you mean? You want him to catch us in the act?" Claude asked with shock.

Didn't Doris bemoan Wilkney for being uninterested? Why did she suddenly have him come home? Claude saw the man three times in the 1st month alone.

"Catch you my arse. I had him come back to cover for us."

Doris had already seated herself above him.

"I want a child, but I can't get pregnant while he isn't home, can I?"

Claude was speechless. He had little choice but to do as she wished, however. Doris had been pestering him to make her a mother since she'd learnt of his son's birth. She'd, apparently, even gone so far as to call back her husband so her pregnancy wouldn't be suspect.

Time passed thusly and the 4th month came; and with its arrival came the announcement of Doris' pregnancy. Claude heard about it as he walked into the house after a day at the college. He was met at the door by Natalie, who handed him a plate of white rice cake with black sesame -- a common custom in the capital to announce a woman in the house's pregnancy.

"This is..."

Claude wasn't too familiar with this custom and didn't know what the rice cakes were. He wondered why the calculative woman would gift him food all of a sudden.

"Have some," she generously said, "It truly is a blessed day. I steamed a lot of these and gave every single household in the village some. I'll have to send a basket of these tomorrow to the moon goddess shrine in the town of Mordo tomorrow too."

"How is today blessed?"

"It's Doris. She is with child!" she announced with elation, "I told her long ago to ask Wilkney to come back so that the couple can work at it. To think that she'd get pregnant after his frequent visits in the recent months!"

Claude awkwardly received the plate of rice cakes and thought, the one putting in all the effort was me though. My hips are giving out after all that movement. Even though you two stare at me like a hawk all day long, you were completely oblivious to your own son's tendencies... Even the way he walks looks a little effeminate despite him being in uniform.

"Ah, congratulations. It's confirmed? How many months has she been pregnant?" Claude asked.

"It's confirmed. We invited an apothecary from the college over and his inspection reveals that she's been pregnant for around two months."

"Why it really is an occasion worth celebrating!" Claude took out a thale from his pocket. "Come, Auntie Natalie, I've lived here with you for a year now and according to the customs of my home, we have to give something on occasions like these. Take this and get something nutritious for Doris."

"How could I... You needn't spend so much..." Though she refused politely, her grip on the coin was strong.

"It's really fine. Just take it. Being able to lodge here must be a fortunate turn of fate for me too, so don't worry about it. I'll go to my room now."

Claude entered his room with the plate of rice cakes and sat down on his chair. He listened to the sounds from upstairs. Now Doris was pregnant, she was treated like a protected, endangered animal. Halbena was basically her personal maidservant now, doing errands like bringing her water and food nonstop.

Claude sighed deeply. The woman had gotten her wish, but he didn't know what to do. The baby was his, too. He couldn't say anything, however. While Natalie treated the unborn child as their kin, Claude would no doubt become their archnemesis if they found out.

Claude ascended the hole that evening. Doris was waiting for him. She told him not to worry; Wilkney had promised he would raise the child as his own. Zasrak and Natalie wouldn't have their hearts broken.

Doris said Wilkney was grateful to him for his help. It would sound laughable to others, but Wilkney was sincerely grateful. He now had an even better smoke screen for his homosexual escapades. After all, nobody would suspect a person with a wife and child of batting for the other team. His life at home and in society would be far smoother going.

"...What about when the child grows up?" Claude asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Doris didn't think too far ahead. She only wanted to experience the joys of being a mother. She did say that if the child grows up and some things in the family changed, she would tell it who the real father was and have the child seek him out.

Claude returned to his own room quietly.

General Miselk summoned him at the end of the month. He followed the general's adjutant, a major, to the general's office. After half an hour's wait, he was let in.

Miselk was wearing a set of crystal spectacles with his head looking down at a document. Claude approached the desk and saluted.

"Stand at ease--" Miselk returned a casual salute and pointed to the chair beside Claude. "--Take a seat, Claude. I'm here to discuss your posting."

Claude sat down and minded his posture. "I will head to where I'm ordered, Sir. Anywhere is fine by me."

Miselk laughed. "Anywhere? No, no, no. I want you to take up a post where you can perform to your fullest potential. Otherwise, it'd just be a waste of talent.

"Claude, there's only a month left before the training course ends in the 5th month. You performed well throughout the course and got excellent grades in your tests and rank among the top in class. Naturally, your weaknesses are as apparent as your strengths too, which I'm sure you're well aware of." Miselk stood up and began to pace about in the office.

"After the course, you will be promoted another rank to a lieutenant-colonel. This much is already certain. It's a reward for your splendid performance."

Claude stood up immediately with his fist against his heart. "I will be of service to the kingdom and the throne! Thank you for giving me this chance, General!"

"Enough. Don't need to recite these pleasantries to me. You earned this glory and honour through your own talents and efforts." Miselk waved his hand casually. "Sit down. Don't need to be so formal. I wanted to discuss your posting in the Ranger folk with you. You now have two choices."

He soon got to the meat of the matter. According to the unit hierarchy of Ranger, there would be four mobile infantry lines and an additional light-cavalry line, a special independent tribe, and an enhanced cannoneer tribe, totalling up to around 32 thousand people.

After Claude's promotion to lieutenant-colonel, his rank would allow him to take command of a line. In the Aueran military, tribesmen were usually majors and linesmen were usually colonels. Lieutenant-colonels usually were adjutants of such lines, served as the head of staff, or the head of some other more bureaucratic departments, such as court martial chief inquisitors or logistics department heads.

In peacetime, the adjutants and heads of staff had a really easy time since the linesmen called most of the shots and the various department heads executed what needed to be done. Usually, adjutants and heads of staff wouldn't be involved in much and wouldn't be held accountable for anything. In other words, they didn't hold any power and were basically bystanders ignored by their subordinates and superiors.

So, most noble descendants in the military would strive for adjutant or head of staff positions. They would be able to serve long terms during peacetime and weren't responsible for much, having much free time of their own. In essence, it was the perfect position made for nobles who joined the force through family contributions to the military.

Even though the Ranger folk wouldn't be taking in people from noble families rich and powerful, the positions of adjutant and head of staff still existed and they didn't have to do much during peacetime apart from coordinating some training exercises.

Miselk wasn't about to let Claude be a waste of wages who spent his days doing nothing substantial. He thought it a huge waste to let him serve at the line level of the hierarchy, so he chose instead to give him the tougher job of being tribesman of the special independent tribe of the Ranger folk.

While it seemed like his rank as a lieutenant-colonel was a little too high for tribesmen to have, the independent tribe was different from the other combat tribes in the folk. A tribe in Ranger had 920 men split between four clans, one keeper band, one cannoneer band, one enforcer band, one logistics band, one light-cavalry scout band and tribe staff. They number around 1360 men in total and had about one extra clan's worth of men than a normal army tribe.

The special independent tribe on the other hand was even more impressive. There were four full combat clans of a thousand men in total, one light-cavalry clan numbering 280 men, and one cannoneer clan with 240 men. They had a band of keepers and enforcers like normal tribes, but their logistics unit had a clan of men as opposed to the usual band. Coupled with an additional band of guards, a support band and the staff, there was a total of around 1800 men in the tribe. It was comparable to two tribes from the irregular corps.

Claude was quite curious about the support band. Miselk explained that as the independent tribe would be assigned with two thousand war horses, six hundred race horses and 120 four-wheeled carriages. The light-cavalry scout clan had their own coachmen and the rest of the war horses fell under the care of the tribe staff. Each man would be given a mount. The support band on the other hand weren't considered combat personnel and were made up of artisans, veterinarians, carpenters, blacksmiths, leathersmiths, tailors and so on. They would coordinate with the logistics unit.

Usually, only a unit the size of a folk would have that kind of support unit the size of a band. Often, they would be used as free labour to improve upon quality of life in the force. Some high-ranking officers even hired chefs to join their support units so that they would be able to enjoy good food on the march.

The reason the independent tribe was assigned a support band was due to their solo nature. They were expected to be the wedge or razor of the rest of the folk. Not only did they need to be great at offence, they also had to excel at defence. For instance, if there was a local revolt that was going out of hand, the Ranger folk would first send out the special independent tribe to respond to the matter. They would have to travel as quickly as they could to the target location to secure the strategic foothold and wait for the main force to arrive.

Claude now knew why the tribe had so many war horses, race horses and carriages. They had to be able to react quickly, hence the need for fast travel. As for the support band, they would also be in charge of collecting resources to replenish what the tribe had expended to ensure they would be able to operate over extended periods of time in full combat capacity.

Miselk, hoped that Claude would become tribesman of the special independent tribe as only someone of his rank could serve in that position. There were many sharp-witted ones in the folk who had their eyes on that post and showed interest. The way they saw it, it was the fastest track up the ladder of their military career.

But Miselk refused them one after another. The way he saw it, only Claude was suited to be the tribesman, as in the past year of the course, Claude's command of a tribe of forces was unparalleled. Nobody was his match in the simulations. He was adaptable and swift and often emerged victorious in surprising ways with few casualties thanks to capitalising on guerilla tactics.

"The training course for some eight hundred officers in this college is going to end," Miselk said, "If you're willing to become tribesman of this independent unit, you shall have the privilege of picking out twenty of the most well-performing officers among the eight hundred first to serve in command posts in the tribe. The college shall appoint the remaining posts. On the 6th month, you shall head to Castle Kristo to pick out top soldiers to join the tribe."

Claude stood up and saluted. "I shall comply, General. I am willing to serve as tribesman of the special independent tribe."

Chapter 329 - Personnel and Organisation

On the 20th of the 5th month, Year 583, Claude stood before the whole student body during the closing ceremony. He had been promoted just six months earlier, and now he was once again being promoted. With his latest promotion he would be a lieutenant-colonel. He was also appointed as tribesman of the autonomous tribe.

Claude was only 26 and had been with the army for less than eight years.

Some 200 officers were promoted for good performance during the course, specifically the top achievers. Myjack, Moriad, Berklin, and Dyavid were among them. Myjack would be promoted to second lieutenant and the other three to captain.

The students would be on break for the next ten days. After the first graduation, Kleibon Royal Army College would become a normal youth academy like Stellin War College. All peasant war orphans would be enrolled.

Though Miselk allowed Claude to pick 20 men from the top-ranking officers, it was still just a fifth of what he needed, and Claude's autonomous tribe would need even more. He needed at least 160.

Myjack, Gum, Moriad, Dyavid, and Berklin were going with him, of course. Claude needed familiar faces, and they all knew their best chance at a bright career was with him. Berklin had reminded them of it almost every day after the tribe was first brought up. His career had seemed promising after he moved to 2nd Rangers, but he'd barely made any stride in all the years he'd been with them.

He fought with the new tactics, but he had none of the fortune Claude did. He'd fared considerably worse in every engagement as well. His superior had focused on achieving objectives as quickly as possible, which, despite their superior weaponry and tactics, meant their losses were about the same as normal units'. He'd at least kept himself safe, and, with a bit of luck, had come out of the war largely unscathed.

Myjack had absolutely no interest in a command of his own. He wanted nothing but to be Claude's shadow. Luckily, he'd also had a couple promotions -- he was currently a second lieutenant -- which made it possible for him to do just that. Claude was all too happy to keep him in the shade. The boy had learnt exactly how to keep him happy, so he wouldn't have to worry about training a new adjutant.

Gum had not made any substantial progress in the entire year. He had lazed around, wasting away both his study time and free time. He only got the tribe-guaranteed promotion, which left him as a master-sergeant. He could only be a tentsman. He had loyalty in spades, however, so Claude decided to give him command of his personal guard tent.

Moriad, Dyavid, and Berklin, being captains now, were made clansmen, filling three of the four positions. The final position would be filled by Claude's superiors. He needed four second lieutenants in each clan to fill the bandsman positions. Beneath them, he needed sixteen sergeant-majors as tentsmen. A clan needed 22 or 23 officers at least, and Claude had just 20 picks for his entire tribe.

Claude left the rest of the positions to his direct subordinates. He let his captains pick their subordinates, who could pick theirs in turn. He had Myjack chip in with three recommendations as well. He was thus in no doubt of the abilities of three of his clans. The fourth was still up in the air and he would not know how bad or good it was until they marched.

It took him and his just two days to decide on his twenty picks and hand the list to Miselk. He had no say in the staffing of the cavalry and cannoneer clans, however. They were 'attache' clans, which meant they were staffed by their respective divisions' brass. He did ask to be given a say in the choices for his logistics staff.

Miselk sent Claude two officers, Schnak and Siegfeld. Schnak was 34, a second lieutenant. Claude's tribe aside, he was among the youngest of his rank in the army. Claude was unnerved with that description as, despite it, he was still eight years Claude's senior.

Schnak was to be his second-in-command. His file left Claude with the impression of a thorough individual, a perfectionist who hammered on even the tiniest detail. Most importantly, he was not prone to questioning his superiors. Miselk appeared quite happy with the pick. He was of the opinion that he was a great complement to Claude, who tended to get lost in his grand visions and forget about the technicalities involved in achieving them.

For all his regard for Claude, that one flaw of his had driven General Miselk up the walls. He dearly wished the little rascal would learn to be more thorough with some more experience. He was most acutely troubled in this regard when it came to the boy's after-battle reports. Claude was supposed to report, in exact numbers, how many enemy arms and supplies he'd captured, instead he simply said he had 'a lot'. He had improved a little, however, he'd started giving a range estimate, 'hundreds', or 'thousands'.

Despite how much time the general had spent coaching the rascal, he'd never done any more than that. For his part, Claude didn't care about the numbers, besides the fact that everything was just wargaming at this point, the general could look at the depot's logs to find out how much had been added after the battle. Miselk eventually gave up and just blamed Claude's lack of proper military education.

All the frustrations in the world could not blind him to Claude's unique mind, however. The boy had a perspective, and a fluidity and freedom of thought that dwarved even the greatest of either his own or the general's peers. The general wanted him out in the field, despite his shortcomings, so the best he could do was give him a right-hand man who could help remedy his weaknesses.

Unlike Siegfeld, Schnak was appointed directly by the general, without consultation or a say in the matter. Siegfeld, on the other hand, had chosen his posting. He'd had the choice between taking a position under an old friend of his, a colonel, in his tribe, or take the position as Claude's chief logistician.

He had been chosen for his skills, of course. He was one of the army's foremost logisticians. He would have achieved much more by now than he had, but he had little ambition for anything beyond his station.

He would have loved to take the position his friend had offered him, but he loathed the idea of being saddled with the tag of someone who'd gotten their station thanks to their connections rather than their skills. His sole ambition in the army was to have a comfy career, however, so he loathed equally the idea of being put with someone who'd very quickly built a substantial track record and reputation as a daredevil and 'get-in-trouble'.

He was not one to make rash decisions, however, so he investigated his options carefully, especially the lieutenant-colonel under whom he would serve should he take the latter position. He was quite surprised to learn that the lieutenant-colonel had been his friend, Colonel Skri's, subordinate during the war. He looked up his friend and asked him for his advice.

The colonel gave him one glance and told him he had no choice, he had to take the position under Lieutenant-Colonel Claude. The only place he would have a better career than under Skri, was under Lieutenant-Colonel Claude. The lieutenant-colonel was not only a pleasant man, but he respected capable people more than any other kind of people. If Siegfeld did his job well, he would not have to lift a finger to be in Claude's good graces. And, as long as he continued serving the lieutenant-colonel loyally, he would never abandon him or throw him under the horse cart.

"I'd been in charge of his logistics during the war, and we'd gotten along incredibly well. I would have loved to have the same position if not for me being in charge of the folk's logistics. If I had a choice I would have picked to work with Claude, actually."

Skri wrote Siegfeld a reference. He knew his old friend's personality well. He was decisive when it came to his job, but terribly uncertain when it came to making decisions regarding himself. Siegfeld was not, however, hesitant about trusting and taking his friends advice. He didn't spare the decision a second thought, and simply reported for duty the next day.

Claude was all too happy to have a friend's recommendation as his subordinate, so he accepted Siegfeld without reservation.

"I gladly welcome you two to my family," Claude said, motioning grandiously at an empty room, "I have work for both of you. We have to be at Castle Kristo in a couple days. We need to leave soon, and we still have a lot to do before we can.

"Major Schnak, as my second-in-command, you will take charge of the tribe's administration. I leave the keepery, the judiciary, the archives, and all the other stuff to you. Speaking of which, I have yet to put in a request for a signaller's tent and a healer tent. I'll leave that to you as well."

Schnak's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. He didn't know of a single commander, of any rank, that would hand practically their entire portfolio to their second-in-command. He didn't know of a single officer who had that kind of trust in their subordinates. He made a mental note to never cross his lieutenant-colonel. There was not another posting like this on the entire continent.

The keeper band, under the keepery, was in charge of the tribe headquarters' defence and the ordermen's, guards', civilian train's, and adjutants' safety. They were guards of both people and places, after all. Claude's personal guard fell under their jurisdiction as well.

That was the one thing Claude did not give to Schnak's direct command. He put them under Myjack alongside his personal guard. It meant that Myjack had command of all the personal guards of all the officers in the entire tribe, as they all, three to an officer, besides Claude, of course, were part of the keepery.

The judiciary dealt with discipline and military law. It consisted of a band of enforcers. They enforced military laws and regulations, and handled internal intelligence and security, such as checking and censoring letters and guarding prisoners.

Administration was in charge of things like keeping track of identification documents, keeping the roll of leave, salary, death and injury, and merits.

Comms was responsible for all communication-related tasks, such as passing reports and orders back and forth between the clans and the tribe, and the tribe and other units and Claude's superiors as relevant and necessary. Their primary means of delivery were carrier pigeons and couriers, depending on the size of the letters.

Archives would only become important once they started marching, and so could be handled later.

Siegfeld was next. Needless to say he was more well-versed in logistics than Claude, so the lieutenant-colonel left everything in his hands, including staffing and budget.

Claude left both in joint command of the logistics staff. Both would need access to the labour force that came with it to fulfill their duties, and that arrangement would make it easy for them to get what they needed, when they needed it without going through unnecessary paperwork and bureaucracy.

The logistics staff were equal to about a clan, which Claude thought was just ridiculous. He couldn't see a need for any more than a band, as was standard. Their primary duty was just handling the supply train, after all, but he'd been given an entire clan instead.

He had no say in that, however, so he just let it be.

Chapter 330 - Military Discipline and Healer Transfer

"Auntie Natalie, Mister Zasrak, thank you for putting up with me this year and a half. I've been posted elsewhere, so I will be departing. Thank you again for your hospitality."

Claude bid the whole family goodbye. He had come with Myjack and Gum to pack his books -- he was leaving everything else.

Doris' stomach hung pregnantly beneath her dress. She didn't say anything, preferring to watch from the window of her room. Claude glanced at her and nodded before he left.

"Give this to Lieutenant-Colonel Manrique, we'll leave once its delivered."

The books were worth ten crowns. Claude had had his colleagues buy them as they rotated to the capital on business. He had finished them all and didn't want to lug them around, so he left them to the college library, which Manrique was still in the middle of stocking.

He hugged his old friend one last time and left with forty fellow alumni. All forty were destined for the new folk. Claude's picks were not among them. They'd left for Castle Kristo two days earlier. Only Myjack and Gum were with him.

Castle Kristo was one of the capital's four great citadels. It was built specifically to defend the city from any armies that might march against it from the north. There had once been several duchies there that posed a serious threat to the capital. They'd all long since been swallowed up by the ever-expanding kingdom. The fort was no longer the strategic fortress it had once been. It was still impressive, but it had little strategic and military important now. Instead, being on one of the crucial paths to the north of Ibnist, its trade sector had boomed.

The march lasted a day and a half, but the journey was uneventful and they were soon reporting to Miselk.

Miselk watched the merry streets from his office window halfway up one of the castle's taller towers worriedly. His voice was tired when he acknowledged Claude's presence.

"You're here. At ease. Your designation and number are on the desk, take a look."

Claude finished his salute and picked up the document in question. 'Ranger Tribe 131', it read. They were obviously not the 131st ranger tribe, it was a code signifying their nature and position in the hierarchy. The first digit signified their order, they were a first-order tribe, meaning they were under the folksman's direct command. No officer, no matter his rank, beneath the folksman himself and his designated representative, could give them orders or interfere with their operations.

The second digit signified the internal structure of the unit. A third-strut unit was an 'abnormal' unit, they did not have one of the standard unit models, specifically, they were bigger than was the norm. The third digit was their combat rank in the folk. They were the first rank, meaning of all the combat units in the folk, they were the best.

"I have a request, General," Claude started, remaining at attention.

"Speak."

"May we build barracks elsewhere?"

"Why?"

"I have much training to do with the tribe and -- forgive my candour, sir -- but the castle is too lax on discipline."

Miselk let go a long, tired sigh.

"You noticed, huh? The castle is not fit to be called a military installation. It was a mistake to base the folk here. The king wants us close by, however, and who dares question him? I expected an uphill struggle to get the men in order, but I didn't think it would be this bad.

"Just look at these reports. There are more breaches of regulation and failures of discipline than there are whores and cups of alcohol in the entire city! I've even run into a couple 'entrepreneurial' soldiers! You'd swear they weren't even in the army! The worst of them have pushed the civilians so far I've received formal complaints!"

Miselk stopped and rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the umpteenth headache he'd had since arriving. The royal family spared no effort to keep their officers loyal and in shape, but they had, as all nobles of their peerage tended to do, completely forgotten about the grunts at the bottom of their pyramid. They'd been in the castle as long as Claude had been at the college, and nearly two years without superior officers did worlds of damage to discipline.

Claude suddenly remembered asking himself why neither the city gates nor the castle gates had sentries. No doubt they were off drinking and whoring somewhere.

Miselk didn't expect to be put in charge of this mess, especially with the folk still unformed. There weren't even people in charge of the soldiers stationed there, so there was nobody to be held accountable for the mess. But surely they couldn't get the general, the first folksman of Ranger, to deal with minor disciplinary problems himself, could they?

"General, I believe we must send the officers back to their former units immediately to announce the formation of the folk, collect all weapons and ammunition, and close the camp down to enforce a strict curfew. We will be strict on the camp and all transgressions will be severely punished. We'll pursue ringleaders and encourage whistleblowers by rewarding them. Only then will we be able to stabilise the camp in a short amount of time," Claude said.

Miselk's eyes brightened as if Claude's suggestion was the sole ray of hope that illuminated the only way forward. In his initial plan, he had wanted to get the officers settled in their new posts first before assigning them their men.

But now, he didn't know where to start with the rabble. The passing of two years had completely eroded the experiences those soldiers gained on the battlefield. Miselk thought that it would be better to disband the units outright and recruit new ones, but the top brass would never agree to such a move. That was a huge number of 50 thousand people, after all.

But sending the officers back to their former units to reassert control and collecting the firearms from the soldiers before locking them up to enforce discipline might work. They could then root out the troublemakers and whip the rest back into shape quickly. What remained would be an elite force for the kingdom.

Of the 50 thousand men, they only needed some thirty thousand of them. The remaining soldiers could just be handed to the ministry of the army. Miselk believed Claude's proposal was feasible and the officers could reassume their new posts after the matter was dealt with.

"Your proposal is fitting. Are there any other requests the folk can help you with?" Miselk was feeling rather cheerful and thought Claude deserved some other reward.

"Hmm..." He gave it some thought and said, "Just give me priority to pick the troops for my tribe. Also, we still don't have a healer tent. I need them to run bodily checks for our soldiers and log their health reports."

"Alright, consider it done. As for the healer tent, I can issue an order for the transference immediately. Just go to the infirmary to pick four herbalists and other required healer troops. Your tribe will be the the top force of our folk so letting you staff up first isn't a problem."

Claude received the written order and went to the infirmary. It seemed far more orderly than the other parts of the camp, with soldiers standing guard at the entrance with their muskets ready. Before he even reached the entrance, a second lieutenant waved for Claude and the rest to stop and blocked their way.

"Why is this place so heavily guarded?" Claude asked as he explained the reason he came.

"This is the infirmary centre of the folk's logistics unit and we're responsible for training healers for the various units in the folk. Back then, a bunch of ruffians tried to break in to steal medicinal supplies and even tried to burn down our stores when they were discovered. We shot four of them dead and Lieutenant-Colonel Skri, the head of the logistics unit, increased our patrols and guards. That's why we're that heavily guarded here," the second lieutenant on duty explained.

"So Lieutenant-Colonel Skri's office is here?" Claude didn't think his former superior would be there. Last year during the 11th month, Skri left the college after a little while. Claude had wanted to seek him out when he reached Castle Kristo and he didn't think they'd get to meet so soon.

"Yes, Sir. Just head left once you're past the entrance. There are three three-storey stone-building blocks there. The lieutenant-colonel's office is on the second floor of the second building. You will need his signature to transfer away herbalists and healers," the second lieutenant replied.

"Alright, thank you."

The three buildings were built in Hogg-style architecture like Claude's red mansion at home. However, they looked rather new and seemed to have been built little more than a decade prior.

Skri's office was large and it had a huge desk to match it. Stacks of documents piled up on it. A few young logistics officers were handing Skri one document after another. Skri scanned through the documents and signed each and every one of them before handing them off to his subordinates. He couldn't be busier.

Claude stood behind his desk and looked at the lieutenant-colonel who had his head buried in the documents. Skri felt that someone was in front of him, but he mistook him for his adjutant. "Pike, get me a cup of red tea."

Claude shrugged. "Sir, I don't know where your red tea is."

Startled, Skri looked up at Claude and broke into laughter. He stood up and gave him a deep hug. "You bastard... why didn't you speak up when you came in? I thought you were someone else!"

"I just arrived to report for duty. I'm here with General Miselk's transference order to settle the healer tent of Tribe 131 first. That way, we can run checks on the soldiers in our tribe." Claude handed the order over.

"Alright. Let's settle official matters first. Join my for a drink tonight to celebrate, friend." Skri took out a set of documents from the drawer beside him. "There are 137 herbalists in the infirmary centre, 21 of who are intermediate-rank herbalists. The rest are beginners. Your Tribe 131 can be assigned one intermediate and three beginner herbalists. Take a look at the list. However, the intermediate herbalists have quite a temperament. You'll be on your own whether you can get them to serve you."

Claude opened the folder and asked, "Why are there so many herbalists here?"

Skri grimaced. "All the herbalists in the military have been transferred here in the name of training healers and information exchange. But the top brass actually intends to give Ranger priority for herbalists. Only after the folk is formed can the other herbalists and healers be assigned to other units."

Claude didn't think that was possible. It appeared that Ranger was indeed going to be the main force of the royal family. They received better treatment in most fronts. Then, he saw a familiar name: Doctor Perunt, the former chief healer of Bluefeather's 11th Tribe. There was a note at the back stating that he had become an intermediate herbalist in the 9th month of Year 582.

"I want him," Claude said with his finger on the name.

Chapter 331 - Long Distance Training

Doctor Perunt was both shocked and happy to see Claude. He had not imagined Claude would be promoted all the way to lieutenant-colonel in just a few years. Perunt had been just a beginner apothecary in Bluefeather's 11th Tribe when the two had met while Claude had only just enlisted. How time flew!

Perunt easily agreed to be Tribe 131's apothecary. He even dragged three juniors with him.

Claude was busy dealing with the other positions in the tribe when he finally received Miselk's first order as folksman. Miselk ordered all officers to hand in their old equipment at the logistics depot in the castle. He also mentioned a double-salary month as a 'sign-on bonus'.

Many of the men had waited two years for this order. The handing in of their old equipment was the final severing they would do with their old unit; their equipment was the last thing tying them to their old units. The handing in of their old equipment, while nothing but a simple logistical formality, was a kind of personal officiation of their reassignments, the final severing of ties with their old positions. It was significant for every soldier that had served for any length of time.

There was no time for celebration, however. The moment the last set of equipment was signed in at the depot the barracks were locked down. For the next fortnight no one was allowed to leave their barracks. The barracks were thoroughly combed by inspectors one by one, and anyone guilty of even the tiniest transgression against military law or army regulation was arrested and tried. Those guilty of more severe crimes were summarily executed.

By the end of the 7th month, the roads leading to the castle town were lined with 1027 corpses on poles, fixed there after execution by hanging. Over 3486 men were sentenced to hard labour, and 194 officers were dishonourably discharged for malfeasance. Even more were caned for various minor transgressions.

Nobody had expected the general to have such a merciless side. Prince Hansbach even rushed to Castle Kristo in the middle of the night to negotiate with him. He could not abide the loss of so many elite soldiers, even if some had committed serious crimes.

Miselk would not hear any of the prince's arguments, however. He said it was exactly because they were elites that they could not be treated with mercy. The same crime was a worse transgression for an elite, who was supposed to be an example of excellence, than for a common soldier. The men could not be trusted with the kinds of dangerous missions they would inevitably be given in the future if they were so lax about the army's regulations.

The prince eventually caved and withdrew his protest. They were at peace now, but that would not last forever, and peace actually made it more imperative that this kind of behaviour be corrected. If it wasn't, it would only fester and get worse in the years of idleness between now and the next war.

The locals were quite happy to see the severe punishments, unlike everyone else involved. Sweet revenge sat well with civilians.

The newspapers quickly took to calling the month the 'Bloody 7th'. Even in wartime, the kingdom had never sentenced so many of its soldiers to death at once. Quite a few also called the next month the 'Stinking 8th', as the corpses along the road started to rot and decay under the summer sun.

On the 10th of the 8th month, Tribe 131 finished its final arrangements. Claude returned to folk headquarters and handed in his final report.

"You want to conduct long-distance training?" Miselk asked, reading Claude's accompanying request.

"Yes, General. My men are all veterans. I have no need to do basic training with them. I must instead drive our new doctrine into their heads. I've discussed it with my captains, and they are in agreement with my request," Claude explained.

"Why the three sisters? Why not any of the 29 new prefectures? A couple are still plagued by resistance."

"I considered it, but they already have 3 standing corps. It'll be crowded, and with the resentment between the rest of the army's noble officers and our men, I doubt it'll lead to anything good for us to operate on their turf."

"The first part of my question still stands, why the three sisters? You could just march onto the Ibnist Plains."

"The same problem, but with civilians. You can hardly spit without hitting someone's house or shop on the plains. Everywhere is someone's farm or vegetable garden. We don't have rugged wilderness in which to train field marching and wilderness navigation. The three sisters are very undeveloped and have vast stretches of nothing but untamed wilds. It also has the necessary climates for severe climate combat and survival training."

"Wait, Claude, what is this severe-climate combat and survival training?" Miselk interjected.

"It's one of the things I thought up. The men will be sent into the wilderness for seven days with just three days' supplies. They have to hunt and scavenge for food, water, and other supplies to survive the other four. Besides training them to survive extended periods without supplies, I want to train them in small-unit tactics and independent operations, especially infiltration. I call it 'Unconventional Warfare'. Instead of facing the enemy on the battlefield, we slip behind their lines and cut off their communications, destroy their supplies, and take out any other targets of opportunity. Basically, we wreak havoc in their rear."

"I understand."

Miselk nodded thoughtfully. His mind wandered to Claude's command during the war, how he'd often done what he had just described.

"Alright, I will write up the orders. You may go to the three sisters for three months. I will send a liaison with you to keep an eye on your training."

"Yes, General."

Claude saluted and left the office.

He cheered silently the moment the door closed behind him. He had come up with good arguments for choosing the three southwestern prefectures, but the truth was he just wanted to go back home. His son was almost two now, but he'd not seen him a single day. He'd wanted to return for all of those two years, but he never felt he could. Now he had the perfect excuse for going home, and he didn't even have to ask for leave.

The corpses sat on their poles for the entirety of the 8th month before being cremated. The general, already revered as a scholar, was now also feared as a coldblooded killer. Nobody dared so much as hint at second thoughts about any of his orders. The requests for leave to visit family even stopped. People were afraid he might see them having families as a weakness and kill them so his men would not be distracted.

Lieutenant-Colonel Skri knew the general better, however. He had also been the one to give Claude the idea to use training as an excuse to go see his wife and son. The tribe needed train anyway, so why not have it back home, or close enough that he could pop in to say 'hi'?

Claude submitted his training regime to the general and started packing.

Claude finally understood why command believed he needed a whole clan in logistics when he saw Major Siegfeld's departure report. Siegfeld had requested 125 carts and carriages in their supply train, which meant that the entire logistics clan could only man each with two men.

"No, Major. We can't put so many in the supply train. We'll never travel at a decent pace, not to mention that it would leave us completely vulnerable." Claude refused to permit that arrangement.

"Give five to the healers. They know how to drive, so don't bother with drivers. The support band needs thirteen as well. Give them fifteen. They have heavy equipment to move.

"The cannoneers need 22 for munitions. Twenty will have to do. They can supply their own drivers as well. You can have the light cavalry's carriages. They don't really need them for feed, not while we're moving in friendly territory. Just give them one per band.

"The combat clans will have the usual five carts or carriages per clan. They can provide their own drivers as well. That leaves just 55. Mobilise two bands on guard duty. You should still have enough space."

"Yes, Sir. We should still have enough."

Siegfeld breathed a sigh of relief. Claude's micromanagement could be bothersome at times, but it did mean Siegfeld only needed to mention a problem to have the lieutenant-colonel jump in and solve it for him. Now he had a surplus of personnel, where before he was strapped for enough men to man all the carts.

"We'll keep the extras. It won't hurt to have some room for extra supplies," Claude said as the major turned to leave.

"Yes, Sir."

On the 21st of the 9th month, Tribe 131 arrived at Whitestag and set up camp just outside the city. They'd marched for 18 days. Claude decided to stay for a fortnight while he dealt with some of the problems that had cropped up during the march. They would then head to Egret for a month of survival training.

Shockwaves ran through the city with the 131's arrival. Not only was it a brand-new unit, and an elite one at that, and it marched under the royal colours, but its tribesman was an old Whitestagian. He was the highest-ranked local from anywhere in the three sisters, and he'd climbed halfway up the ladder in just eight years. It was not an understatement to say he was a celebrity.

Felidos met him at the stone outpost to welcome him personally and escort him into the city. Their arrival was met with a banquet, which Felidos hosted himself and to which Claude and all his senior staff were invited. He also gave blanket approval to all Major Siegfeld's request the moment he heard he was the tribe logistician, without hearing any of them.

Claude didn't have a free moment for most of the day, but he slipped away from the banquet as soon as he could and headed home with his two shadows, Myjack and Gum, to see his family.

Chapter 332 - Two New Developments

"Anything newsworthy in the papers today?" Claude asked as he came downstairs and found Angelina seated in the dining room with the Whitestag Daily.

The newspaper had come a long way from the barely-afloat town rag from Claude's childhood. They'd negotiated access to the city's carrier dove network, which let them publish news from the capital just a day or two after it happened, at least a week ahead of any other newspaper in all of the three sisters.

"Nothing good. The Cromwell colony is fighting Shiks' outposts again. This is the seventh skirmish in six months. The kingdom is sending ambassadors to Shiks with a stern objection to their conduct. They're also to call for bilateral talks to end this.

"House of Dignity Deputy Speaker Aubnite has proposed a large-scale requisition of redskin youth labour to solve the immediate labour shortages. Several prominent financists have warned that this will undermine the caste system. Redskins have never been more than serfs, if even that. If they were to be requisitioned, they'd have to be made peasants, and nobody's happy with the thought."

She handed him the newspaper as she spoke.

"I'll bring your breakfast. Are you going back to camp today?"

Claude nodded.

"Hm. I'll be back Saturday."

He had had a most pleasant time at home. He deeply appreciated for once not having to personally oversee the 131's training. He left everything to Vice-Tribesman Schnak. His three friends and captains, Moriad, Dyavid, and Berklin could also handle anything Schnak couldn't. He'd been in the city practically every day since their arrival. He'd taken leave every free day he had, and used the excuse of his required presence at official events such as receptions to stay in well after his leave had expired.

He could not continue his absence anymore, however. They would soon depart to Egret for their survival training, and he had to be present for that. They would rotate the units through the course over the coming weeks. As much as he wished he could send everyone out at once and get it over with so he could return to his wife's bed, Egret was not big enough for so many teams. This first batch would consist of each clan's top tent, whom he would instruct and supervise personally.

"Where are Myjack and Gum?" Claude asked.

"They had breakfast already. They're tending to your horses."

Angelina placed his breakfast -- white bread, red tea, bacon, and fried eggs -- on the table.

Claude nodded to her, then bit into the bacon sandwiched as he skimmed the newspaper. As she had said, the highlights concerned Cromwell's conflict with Shiks. Given the time it took news to travel from Nubissia to the mainland, the news was a week old.

While the alliance had lost badly during the war, they'd thoroughly screwed Aueras on Nubissia. Aueras had seven colonies and their combined area far exceeded the kingdom's territory on Freia. Even with the new territory they'd annexed, the kingdom's mainland territory was only on par with its holdings on Nubissia.

Nasri was their archenemy and they had one colony. It equalled an Aueran colony, but had a far greater port. They had funnelled most of their funds into building Port Vebator before developing the rest of the colony. And the colony adjoined Cromwell to the north, and Shiks' colony to the south.

The army had planned to mobilise the colony garrisons as soon as the war started and march them against the enemy colonies, especially the port.

Their plans were scuppered by a revolt among the natives in Shiks' colony. It prompted the duchy to send a corps to quell the rebellion, meaning the colonies were now far better defended than before.

It wouldn't have been as bad had the corps actually marched to Shiks' colony. They instead camped along the border between Cromwell and Nasri's colony, making a quick capture of Port Vebator all but impossible.

As a result, despite the war raging on the mainland, nothing big happened in Nubissia. Aueras should, perhaps, be happy Shiks didn't get directly involved on the mainland. Had they, things might have gone very differently. They were the other major regional power, after all. Aueras' territory equalled theirs only now that it had annexed three duchies' land and people.

They had not stayed out of the war entirely either, however. While they had not sent troops to fight Aueras, and had not officially taken a side in the war, they had fed the alliance with every supply and resource for which they'd asked.

The war was over, but Port Vebator was still just as much as prize as before it. Aueras had actually tried to include it in the territory to be ceded, but Shiks had come marching in to claim their debts. The debt Nasri owed was significant, and they'd given Shiks their colony as collateral. It was clear the kingdom could not pay its debts in its current state, so they claimed the colony.

There would be no Port Vebator for Aueras. Nasri had no Port Vebator to sign over even if it wanted. The ambassador would have, under normal circumstances, just pressed on with the war and completely eradicated the kingdom and remaining duchies, but the kingdom didn't have the power anymore, it had been too exhausted, so he demanded some hefty reparations and called it quits.

This was a worse blow to Aueras' ambitions on the new continent than Nasri keeping the colony. Shiks was far more of a threat, and now it had a firm foothold on Nubissia. The port gave the kingdom the ability to launch invasions along the entirety of the Nubissian coast, no colony was safe anymore.

There had been near a hundred conflicts between the colonies of both nations during the two years since the war's end. Now, instead of pirates, Aueras was fending off ships from Shiks' Seaking fleet, rebel natives on land, and the Shiksan garrison that had marched 50 kilometres into Cromwell.

Even during summer when the bull herds were migrating on Albator Plains, Shiks' forces often ignored the Aueran garrison's warnings and barged into their colonies to hunt the bulls for leather. Conflicts often broke out.

While the Aueran colonies covered the greatest extent of the new continent, they were chronically undermanned. Most were stationed in the larger cities. But after Shiks took Port Vebator, they stationed two corps in the colony and formed a new fleet.

Shiks was neighboured only by vassals and allies. So they didn't need much of a home army. They poured all the freed resources into their new colony instead. Every neighbour of Aueras, by contrast, was a former enemy, rival, or suspicious neutral. The kingdom had to guard itself, so it had far fewer free hands to send across the sea.

Shiks continued to violate their territory, but all Aueras could do was lodge one strong objection after another.

Claude flipped to the second headline. He couldn't be bothered to read the strong comments the pundits had to say about the situation. No matter how seething their words were, they wouldn't be able to harm Shiks one bit. As long as Aueras was determined not to upset Shiks, similar situations would only resurface nonstop.

The second headline was about Deputy Speaker Aubnite's revised labour proposal. It was merely a superficial change of terminology. Essentially, the same bill was put forward once more to get the kingdom to attract more Nubissian red-skinned native youths to solve the kingdom's manpower crisis.

It was a really polarising topic. It was common knowledge that the reddish color of the Nubissian natives was a taboo skin colour in Freia. In the folk legends passed down since the magic civilisation, dwarven skin was grey and brown in colour like stones, since they were considered to be spawns of the mountains. Elven skin was described to be light green to azure as they were the children of the forests. Human skin on Freia on the other hand was white, thanks to the blessing the Silvermoon Goddess gave them. It symbolised purity and light.

However, the skin of Nubissian natives was red in colour, just like the demonic hellspawns' in folklore. Even in magic tomes passed down since long ago, demons were depicted in red and that colour represented their greed and bloodlust. As such, the Nubissian natives were seen to be descendants of demons. Coupled with the primeval deities and shamanic superstitions the natives held, they were feared by the Freian colonisers, who used that as justification to wipe out one tribe after another to take their lands.

However, those colonisers who thought they were bringing civilisation and light to Nubissia left an awkward historical legacy. In the past three centuries since their arrival in Nubissia, they created millions of mix-blooded descendants. There was up to a million such mix-blooded youths in the seven Aueran colonies alone.

Everyone knew that white wouldn't stay white when mixed with any other colour. Thanks to the taboo red colour of the natives' skin, few nations permitted natives to move over to the continent and live there. Apart from some nations that still permitted slavery and had red-skinned slaves, most other nations forbade such peoples from living in their territories. It was racial discrimination through and through.

In the seven colonies of Aueras, most of the people there were mix-blooded redskins. In fact, pure-blooded natives were among the very small minority. They were considered to be colonial subjects of the kingdom, but not the kingdom's real citizens. Even though they were taxed and ruled over, they weren't allowed to serve in the military or become a peasant of the kingdom.

After the five-year war, the kingdom inherited the territories of the three defunct duchies, but most of the land and their people was left in shambles. Taking into account the casualties the kingdom suffered, the 1.5 million Nubissian youth labourers would be a welcome remedy for their manpower malady.

However, the kingdom's drafting policy was based on regional quotas. That was why the various prefectural governments were really strict on their labourer policies and stopped vagabonds and youths from leaving the prefectures. Given that was the case, the merchant nobles who now controlled the 29 new prefectures turned their sights to the youths in the seven colonies and hoped to use them to make up for their manpower shortage.

Deputy Speaker Aubnite represented the new nobility interest group and he strongly advocated for the integration of Nubissian youths. He wanted to push for a new policy to afford peasant status to Nubissians who serve without pay for ten years as labourers. After serving their term, they could freely choose to live in any of the 29 new prefectures. That way, the manpower shortage would be no more and the kingdom would more easily be able to hold onto the stabilised new prefectures.

Chapter 333 - Training Exercise

"It's essential to know what you can eat and drink when you're out here. Grass roots and tree bark can fill your stomach. Even those disgusting bugs will give you enough energy to keep going. You have to know how to find clean water. If the water isn't flowing or if there are fish and other water creatures in it, don't touch it. You'll die.

"You will learn how to find food and clean water when you run out of supplies. You have to learn to tell which roots and bark you can eat and which bugs won't kill you. How to look for water when you can't light a fire to boil it. In even harsher conditions, I suggest drinking your urine rather than drinking from a questionable source."

Claude suddenly realised that if he had an elite unit of magic soldiers, he wouldn't have to go to so much trouble to train them in survival. At the very least, magic users weren't as reliant on clean water sources. They could just cast a spell to make clean water. And they would be absolutely deadly to enemy scouts.

Aueras gathered children with magic talent and trained them for the Watchers to fight foreign and rogue magi. Claude thought perhaps he could do something similar, but he was far from capable of doing it just yet, to say no less of the time and energy it would take.

131's training finished at the end of the 11th month. Claude bid his family goodbye and returned to Castle Kristo. Miselk summoned him three days later.

"I've seen the records of your training. You did well. The royal guards will do a three-month course in the 4th month. I want 131 to go against them in the war games. Can you win?"

Claude nearly fell off his seat. This was not an assignment to be tossed around so casually.

"Come on, General, Ranger is barely half-a-year old. Why on earth would the guard want to go up against us? That's just bullying."

It was all unreasonable. The royal guard had returned to the capital after the war's end and was the first to be fully manned. The war was three years behind them, and the guard had spent the entire time training. Sure, Ranger was mostly veterans, but two years of doing nothing while they waited for the unit to finish organising itself had softened their muscles and rusted their bayonets.

The guard was picking on the weak to try and win back some esteem as the supposed 'best force in the kingdom'. Claude didn't understand why Miselk agreed to that request that would bring much trouble to the folk. If they really wanted to host war games, they should at least do it a year and a half later when every unit of Ranger recovered to full combat ability.

Miselk shook his head with a pained smile and told Claude the arrow was nocked and it was only a matter of time before it was fired. The royal guard wasn't only the number-one corps in the kingdom, it was also the royal family's primary force. Ranger was the unwanted, over-eager junior.

Ranger was not a cheap force either, and the royal guard was most displeased that the tiny folk had a budget greater than them, an entire corps. The bastards had even taken one of the oldest royal guard strongholds; Castle Kristo.

"Let 131 go against the guard. We won't have a fight greater than a line and the first prince is presiding. I don't really care about win or lose; I do hope you won't be crushed too badly. We're really pressed for time and the first prince knows we're nowhere near combat ready. If you can do as good as you did back in the college, I won't have any complaints."

Claude had no choice but to accept.

The 4th month came after the rainy season.

When 131 confirmed they would be participating, the royal guard announced they weren't willing to oppress them with numbers and would match their numbers. They would only deploy two combat tribes, which equalled 131's bloated roster. Claude had wanted to curse, as it was a blatant lie. Two combat tribes had two and a half more clans than 131; 500 men more.

The schedule was also decided. Tribe 131 would face off against two royal-guard combat tribes in seven matches.

The first was 'capture the flag'. A spot marked 'A' would have a blue flag. 131 had to fight their way to it, while the royal guard would start from C. Whoever got to the flag first had to hold it for 3 days.

It was a most conventional game. They were roughly equally matched, and no side had a unit the other didn't. It would be imperative to have a thorough strategy.

If they charged the cavalry to the flag, they would have nothing with which to defend. Cavalry were the best attackers on the battlefield, but they were useless on the defensive.

That said, if they could catch the flag, they would have the advantage. Upon reaching A first and setting up a defence, they could hold their ground. Even if it ended in a siege, the defending side would suffer fewer casualties. So, this particular exercise focused on the mobility of the cannoneers and their ability to defend them. Victory would be close at hand if they could arrive at the flag point first.

Little did the royal guard know Claude wasn't planning to engage them in a siege at all. After three days of marching, 131 detoured and continued in the night, setting up an ambush on the path the royal guard would take. The royal guard's two tribes advanced and headed straight into the trap... That was the end of it. No one got to the flag, the battle ended long before anyone got even close. The referees decided no one made it out of the ambush in fighting condition.

When the exercise concluded, the guard officers accused Claude of not following the rules. They were supposed to capture the flag and defend, not go for the kill outright.

Claude simply said it would be far easier to take them down. The war was one the moment the start whistle was blown.

Prince Hansbach ruled in the 131's favour.

The second war game was called 'encounter'. As the name of the exercise suggested, the two units would run into each other on the battlefield and fight until either side lost.

This time around the two royal guard tribes had learned their lesson and advanced incredibly cautiously. They also sent out their light-cavalry clan to scout ahead of their path. Soon, they discovered the mounted scouts of Tribe 131. Half a day later, the royal guard's scouts reported that 131 had occupied a small hill and were setting up camp and their defensive fortifications.

It appeared that 131 was intent on going into a siege battle with the two royal guard tribes. The commanding officers were quite confident and said that they would teach 131 a lesson in the siege. So, they set up camp and rested well for a night to prepare for an all-out charge the next day to conquer the enemy base. Additionally, they had the light cavalrymen pay attention to the enemy camp to prevent a surprise attack during the night.

Claude did in fact plan to mount a night attack, but he wasn't going to send out the whole tribe. Instead, he mobilised only three of the most elite tents and the referee group. The scouts the royal guard sent out, on the other hand, mounted a surprise attack on the camp of 131 without paying attention to the smaller troupe of soldiers sneaking past them at the rear.

Claude's three tents of men took a large detour and circled to the rear of the camps of the two tribes and easily infiltrated them. Everything later happened as planned. The commanding officers of the two tribes were all captured, tied up and gagged with a towel. They had to be tied up, as the referees announced them dead from the ambush and dead men made no sounds. So, they obediently allowed themselves to be tied up and kept their dignity as soldiers.

The next morning as the two tribes of royal guards were preparing for battle, they noticed a few referee officers standing amidst them in the camp. They announced that half of them had been killed during the night, all of their officers were eliminated, their warehouses were burned, and even their cafeteria didn't prepare any food as all the supplies had been burned up.

Sentiments such as how it couldn't be possible for them to lose after waking up and the referees were cheating were echoed. However, the soldiers' complaints couldn't change the minds of the referees. The remaining royal guards were eliminated even when the exercise focused on direct confrontation. Even though the normal soldier wasn't convinced with the results, the officers were no fools. Tribe 131 only mobilised three tents of elite troops to infiltrate their camp. If it was a real battle, the two tribes would no doubt suffer complete defeat.

The third and fourth war games were sieges. Each side took turns to defend a castle. Claude was fortunate enough to draw the defending side in the first battle. That way, 131 could set out three days in advance to fortify their stronghold. The royal guard tribes would only begin their attack after that.

The siege lasted for five days and nights and 131 emerged victorious with a slight edge. One point of contention was Claude's use of straw scarecrows to confuse the enemy and bait them into firing while having sharpshooters counterfire at the ones that shot the scarecrows. The referees judged that the royal guard units that tried to sneak up to the stronghold were eliminated. No matter how the officers objected, they weren't able to change the referees' judgment.

For the fourth war game, it was the royal guard's turn to defend against 131's assault. The officers of the royal guard thought that this was where they could turn the tables. After experiencing the experimental tactics 131 used in their defence, the royal guard officers from both tribes confidently said that they would win. After all, they did have five hundred more men than 131 and the advantage of defending the stronghold.

But this time, they lost even faster. They didn't manage to hold on for more than half a day. Claude merely ordered his men to set fire to dried straw mixed with water, leaves, horse and dog stools and so on downwind. The smoke covered the entire stronghold and all the soldiers within coughed as they fled out of the smoke. Most of them even abandoned their muskets.

The officers of the royal guard were completely speechless.

Even though some complained that 131 was messing around, the officers with battlefield experience knew that if they really met an enemy like 131, they would be fortunate to even escape with their lives.

There were supposed to be seven war games in the training exercise, but since 131 had already won four times, the officers of the royal guard lost all their will to fight. They didn't think they'd run into someone like Claude who employed unconventional tactics like those. They lost so badly that they no longer had the face to continue participating in the other games.

And so, Prince Hansbach announced the end of the exercise as all of them wished. Claude only spent a month's time squaring off against the royal guard before returning to the main camp with the tribe.

Chapter 334 - Another War

"Sir, this is the training routine the department of strategy issued. We are instructed to meet these requirements and make sure all the men pass the tests," Major Schnak said as he handed Claude a document the moment he set foot in his office.

Claude flipped through it and shook his head. It was nothing short of overambitious. As Ranger had been assigned 20 thousand war horses, folk command hoped the soldiers could fight both dismounted and mounted. Unfortunately, most of the horses assigned to 131 were war horses, so all the men were required to have some riding ability.

"Let's stick to our plan for now. I'll consult the general for some revisions. Folk command is well intentioned, but they don't understand our capabilities and strategic aims. We can't help much in direct battle. We don't use war horses just for surprise attacks. They have far more uses than that. For one they make us far more mobile on a strategic level."

Claude plopped the plan onto his desk.

"Yes, Sir."

It had been nearly two months since the match against the royal guard. Nobody had expected Claude to lead 131 to four successive victories, making the three remaining war games unnecessary. The royal guard was completely humiliated. Claude, on the other hand, was welcomed back to Ranger a hero. Even Miselk welcomed him personally and praised him like a beautiful flower. He also announced the entire tribe was awarded a first-class merit.

Nobody disliked a commander who led one to victory with minimal casualties. Claude had the unquestioning loyalty of his men. Even Major Schnak, Claude's right-hand, had nothing but praise for his commands.

The newspaper on his desk, Capital Chronicles, had 'Ambassador Returns to Shiks, Intent on Restarting Friendly Relations' as its headline. This was at least the third attempt to patch things up between the two kingdoms, and Claude suspected it would be about as successful as the last two. Shiks had so far refused to so much as fart that they had indeed violated Aueran territory. They were even claiming Aueras was the one doing the violating. They were demanding a public apology from the king and reparations.

Myjack put a steaming hot cup of red tea in front of Claude as the latter paged to the relevant page. The labourer bill was dead. It had not been killed by the House of Dignity, though Claude did not doubt the House would have killed it had it gotten that far, no, it had been killed before it even made it to the house floor. Nearly every kingdom of note on the continent had sent messages via their ambassadors protesting the bill, and the less notable countries sent official letters of protest. There'd even been a protest in the capital, something which had not happened since the civil war. Kings and commoners alike had the same objections. They refused to have Freia's soil and people tainted by the demon spawn.

The deputy speaker's manor was even ransacked by the protestors while the constables supposed to keep them off the estate watched on passively. People in the know said the protest was secretly supported by some of the shrines. The religious lot were even more outraged by the bill than those with more pragmatic concerns. Nubissian beliefs were considered evil demon worship. They would never abide such an unspeakable evil to be brought onto the holy soil of Freia.

Religion had once again become the cause of unrest. If Claude's recollections were accurate, the Freians were in fact the ones guilty of heresy. Freians and Nubissians used to believe in the same gods, but the Freians found new gods and abandoned the old. Nubissians still worshipped the original gods, great spirits which they believed could reside in everything, stones, rocks, boulders, trees, hills, mountains, streams, rivers, the ocean, the wind, the clouds, you name it. They had been driven off their land by the colonists, however, their shrines burnt to the ground, their sacred trees cut down, and their holy rocks shattered. Freian shrines also dispatched missionaries to convert the heathens.

Instead of converting the heathens, however, the missionaries spawned a new religion among the missionees. They worshipped a single god, called Sunidat. It was the all-creator. The other gods were considered nothing but incarnations of it, avatars of particular aspects of Sunidat. It might have been possible to accept Sunidat into the fold among the accepted deities, in time, if not for a particular idea in the religion. The idea that Freians were apostates, unbelievers who'd gone astray and disavowed Sunidat and should be eradicated, at the very least wiped off Nubissia.

It didn't take long for the believers in the new religion to begin taking action. Within a couple years they started killing any missionary across whom they came and burning every shrine they found. The shrines, representatives of the true gods, their vicars in the mortal world, would of course not stand for such blasphemy, and so they launched crusade after crusade against the heathens and devil worshippers. The war had been raging more and less intensely for over three hundred years now.

The hatred between the two sides had grown as deep as the marrow and was as natural as breathing to Freians, an instinct bred into them through the generations. They could not allow some short-sighted, faithless politician to bring the demonic savage to the holy land.

Naturally, such an immense bill was not proposed by a single man, but Deputy Speaker Aubnite was the perfect scapegoat. He was one of the new nobles, so the established forces had no interest in protecting him either, leaving him without a backing. He'd not been removed from his position as deputy speaker and member of the house, but everybody knew it was just a matter of time. His political career was over.

The column section of the newspaper had nothing but gossip. Scandals after scandals of young nobles. The first was about a couple lusty young nobles getting too upsy over a famous actress. Two even duelled illegally. Both were sent to hospital. As was too often the case, while the two hopeful hornies were fighting it out, the object of their affection hooked up with a rich old minor noble.

News flowed much quicker and more frequently in the capital. Gossip concerning nobles was often reported. Several papers had even begun specialising in such stories. They were quite popular amongst the poorer peasantry.

Nothing else of value passed in front of Claude's eyes. He tossed the newspaper aside once he'd finished with it and sipped his tea. He finally greeted Schnak, finished his tea, and went to check on the training with his minions. Of the four combat clans, Moriad, Dyavid, and Berklin commanded three. He was not concerned about their performance even without seeing any of it. He was more inclined to keep an eye on the 4th clan. Captain Cashmille was a greenhorn. He did at least have an affable personality -- eager to learn and very obedient.

The only real worry for Claude was the light cavalry. He'd struggled to retrain them as dragoons; much in the vein of Canas' scouts. Their routine consisted of aiming and firing from horseback at other mounted scouts a hundred metres away before turning to run. If the enemy pursued them, they would lead them into ambushes. Claude believed those who'd rather engage in melees were fools.

It was too bad their clansman was one of those fools, a stubborn old nail who drilled his men in charges every waking moment. He had acquiesced to Claude's authority after considerable argument, but the results of their training had been less than encouraging. Myjack had reported that the clansman personally called Claude's shoot-and-run tactic cowardly and said that real cavalrymen should be able to face their enemies no matter the number and charge towards them with blades drawn.

Claude had made up his mind to have the clansman transferred, but he didn't have someone to replace him. He didn't want folk command to send another old fogey and start the whole fight all over again.

Cavalrymen weren't that much of a threat anymore, nor were they much of a force. A clan of light cavalry was just 280 men, and two tents were coachmen. The actual number of combatants was just 250. A unit of that size stood little chance of making a convincing charge. They would just be throwing their lives away. Their only real function was post-battle mop up and the occasional charge at the artillery. Aside from that, they were still decent scouts between battles.

Claude wanted to pick Moriad, Dyavid, or Berklin as the old fogey's replacement. However, he needed to consider which of his friends was most suited to the role.

A fortnight vanished while he struggled with the choice. Claude headed to folk command to see Miselk with his dilemma. First Lieutenant Michael from communications came with an eagle message just as he was preparing to depart. Miselk was summoning him.

What could it be about? Claude wondered. Surely there wasn't another challenge?

He rode to the castle and found an usher waiting for him. He was lead straight to the general's office. It was not another challenge. They were deploying. 131 was being sent to Whitestag.

Claude was more than happy, but he wondered why they were being sent so far from HQ when not on training. There was little in Whitestag as far as the army was concerned. Their orders were to head to Whitestag, ready a barracks for the rest of the folk, then spread their men around the city in key locations.

"What happened?" Claude asked, an ominous feeling of foreboding clawing at his stomach.

Miselk sighed deeply and leaned into his chair.

"I have some bad news. We're at war again."

Again? With whom? He'd not read anything about it in the papers!

"Not on Freia. It's the colonies. We're fighting on Nubissia," the general said with a pained smile, "Shiks' colony has moved against us. Shiks is demanding three colonies; Cromwell, Balingana, and Robisto. The king naturally refused, so now we're at war."

"Is the folk being deployed to the colonies?"

Ranger was supposed to be the royal family's personal army. They were supposed to stay close to them as their hands. Why would they be involved in a Nubissian conflict?

"The ministry of the army said that, with the last war just three years cold, we have no men otherwise. We're the only unit not already on assignment. We're being sent ahead as the vanguard. We're ideal for this if you think about it. We're designed as a rapid response force. This is exactly what we were made for. We can get there faster than any other unit in the army and, more crucially, faster than any major reinforcements from mainland Shiks. The forces in the colonies are small enough that our presence can make a major difference, enough to be the decider between whether we win or lose. At the very least we can hold out until the kingdom can send more substantial reinforcements." Miselk looked up at the ceiling as if there was nothing he could do.

"How can there be no one else to send in the entire army? We have four standing corps and three more that just finished training!" Claude said exasperatedly.

"I know. But like I said, they are already on deployment. It'll take time for them to be pulled back, if they can be at all. The three new corps are holding the 29 new prefectures, they will certainly not be going anywhere. And Reddragon, Bluefeather, and Griffon are holding on the border with Nasri and Canas in case Shiks makes a play for the mainland kingdom. It'll take months to pull one of them back, if the brass even decide we can risk weakening the border."

"What about the royal guard? Aren't they free?"

"Haha, the royal guard..." Miselk snorted dismissively. "They're adamant they're still recovering from the war and will be of no use. I doubt they'd be worth anything even if they were ready and willing to go, anyway. You saw their performance during the war games... Speaking of which, they had the gall to say that since we could trounce them in war games, we should have no problem taking on Shiks' colonial forces on our own. They were the bastards that suggested we be sent.

"That's... that's shameless..." Claude gasped, his jaw dangling loosely by his side.

He didn't think his great performance during the training exercise would end up being used as the reason to send them to Nubissia.

"Do it, Claude," Miselk said as he tapped on the formal order on his desk. "We have no choice but to make the trip. The enemy has occupied half of Cromwell already and are heading for its capital, Wickhamsburg. The brass have decided to keep this under wraps and limit the war in Nubissia to prevent civil panic.

"Our folk's objective is to give the forces of Shiks a harsh lesson and let them understand that all-out war between us will end badly for both sides. We'll force them to sign a ceasefire and a peace treaty. The ministry of the army has also pledged to elevate us to corps status after the war ends."

Chapter 335 - Arrival on Nubissia

Orders were absolute. No matter how badly he wished to stay, he had no choice. Miselk had called him to give him an order, not negotiate. He understood that, given that the ministry of the army would elevate Ranger to corps after the war, nothing could stop Miselk from mobilising his men.

Miselk's greatest wish was to have a corps, so battle was unavoidable. As the folk's razor and tribesman of 131, Claude had to pave their way. In Miselk's plan, Tribe 131 wasn't just the first unit sent to Nubissia. They were also the folk's eyes, their scouts. They were to sniff out the enemy and the battlefield.

"Orders received and acknowledged, General," Claude replied.

Thanks to transportation difficulties, the folk would be sent to Nubissia's Tyrrsim colony in two batches. The second batch would arrive three months after the first. Miselk put Tribe 131 and two other mobile lines in the first batch. The mobile lines would set up defences and wait for the reinforcements before launching their counterattack.

The 131's mission was to do what they'd been trained to do. They were to target the enemy supply depots and slow down their advance. The enemy would split up to better protect their supply lines which would decrease their threat.

Miselk put a lot of faith on 131. He wanted Claude to break through the enemy's lines and buy time. Hopefully, it would keep them from conquering more of the kingdom's colonies before the folk had completed the move and reorganised.

Nubissia was too far, after all. By the time they were informed of the attack, a few months had already passed. The latest news was that Shiks had conquered half of Cromwell and were besieging its capital, Wickhamsburg.

The trip to Nubissia took a fortnight in ideal weather, closer to three weeks on average; a whole month wasn't uncommon either. Miselk didn't know what the current situation was. He did know that the longer they took, the worse the situation would be when they finally got there.

The kingdom's officials were confident of only that the seven colonies were too big. It took a fortnight of nonstop travel to cross them all by horse. A conquering army was much slower.

If not for their horses, the entire folk could go in one batch, but the animals were crucial to their doctrine. They stood no chance of holding the colonies without them, so no matter how much it complicated things, the horses had to come along.

The other reason Miselk summoned Claude was to tell him about this in person, to keep it secret. The brass didn't want anyone knowing about the conflict, to make sure the people were calm and united. Claude could only tell his men about the true nature of their assignment after they left the coast. On the way to Whitestag, they would be told they were on an overseas transportation drill so none of the local officials would suspect anything.

Claude was only dismissed after he had agreed and repeated their objectives. Miselk told him he had to start preparing once he got back as well, as 131 and the two mobile lines had to depart for Whitestag within a week. They would only embark once Storm finished their preparations.

Claude returned to his camp coldly. He could only be glad about the light-cavalry's clansman's transfer. Berklin replaced him.

Berklin was chosen to take over because he'd escaped from the Great Plains. He and his comrades were practically glued to their mounts for most of the day. They only got off to feed and brush the horses. They spent two days and three nights riding without sleep to escape pursuit from the Canasian light cavalry. He was quite familiar with the mounted scouts on the Great Plains and Claude believed he could use his knowledge to better train the cavalry as scouts.

Tribe 131 set out for Whitestag three days later. All the soldiers thought they were going to train there again. But as they neared the three sisters, things felt odd. When he was asking for supplies from the local officials in the towns, Major Schnak would often be asked whether they were heading to Nubissia. He once joked about it with Claude; luckily he didn't notice Claude's pale face.

When they reached Whitestag, Viscount Felidos came to their camp personally and gripped Claude's hand as he wished Claude the best in teaching the invaders a harsh lesson. Claude knew he couldn't keep the secret any longer so he asked Felidos how he knew they were heading for Nubissia.

Felidos laughed.

"What's so secret? Nothing about the fight in Nubissia can be kept from Whitestag. Don't forget we have Storm over here. They escort the merchants to and from Nubissia. The sailors gossip worse than women. The whole city knew the moment the first ship in the convoy anchored. It's not acknowledged or talked about publicly, of course."

Felidos was well informed. Cromwell had now been completely conquered and Shiks' army had split in two. One was heading for Balingana and the other to Robisto. The garrisons had crumbled quickly. The other bad news was the death of High-Commissioner Machek.

Viceroys were the senior officials in the colonies, and high-commissioners were the most senior military officers. Viceroys were in charge administration and civil government while high-commissioners took care of security. Usually, apart from the standard garrison line the capital cities in each colony had, each town only had a tribe. In total, a high-commissioner controlled two corps. They were irregularly small, however.

The seven colonies had seven viceroys and seven high-commissioners. Since Cromwell had fallen, the whereabouts of the viceroy and high-commissioner were unknown. Additionally, Felidos said High-Commissioner Machek was a senior officer from Anfiston and had led his own garrison to reinforce Cromwell. His forces crumbled almost instantly and he was shot off his horse by a stray bullet. Though his attendants pulled him back, he stopped breathing before they reached safety.

Felidos knew the kingdom would send reinforcements. He knew Claude's men were the reinforcements the moment he heard of their arrival outside the city. As a passionate warmonger, Felidos bemoaned his crippling injury which prevented him from going with them, so he darted to the camp to give Claude some encouragement. The way he saw it, Claude was lucky to be part of another war so quickly.

After much trouble of dealing with the viscount and sending him off, Claude turned to his men and made a pained smile. The cat was out of the bag, so he told them about their mission outright.

Tribe 131's officers didn't think they would really go to Nubissia, but unlike Claude expected, they didn't show any fear. He saw only eagerness in their eyes.

Ever since the war games victories, the soldiers had become arrogant. They believed they were the kingdom, if not the continent's, best. They looked down on the enemy. They saw this as just another training exercise a little excursion to fight off the boredom.

Thankfully, the soldiers were easy to placate. However, his mother and wife were grief-stricken when they heard the news. Madam Ferd had wanted Claude to quickly be discharged to spend the rest of his life peacefully at home instead of waging war far away in Nubissia. Claude didn't know how to respond. His order was finalised and being discharged was no longer an option. He would be branded as a deserter if he chose to drop out at a time like that.

In the end, he consoled his mother and Kefnie and returned to camp two days later. With everything on his side ready, he now only waited for Storm to get their transport ships in order for the voyage.

The other two mobile lines of Ranger soon arrived at Whitestag. The two linesmen were Claude's seniors in Kleibon Royal Army College who had a good relationship with him. The order they received was to form the defence line, stabilise the situation and train and reorganise what remained of the garrison forces in the colonies into reserves to join in the counterattack when the second batch of reinforcements arrived.

The two linesmen and Claude ran a few sandtable simulations of their battles in Nubissia. For everyone involved, Nubissia was a foreign place and Shiks was a mysterious enemy they hadn't fought before. They weren't confident in their odds, so the best they could do was to try to make up for their weaknesses they identified through their simulations.

Another one week passed and Storm's ships were finally ready. It took two days for all the forces to board. Claude was sent off on his journey to Nubissia at the docks by his parents, friends and associates.

They would disembark in the colony of Tyrrsim. According to Captain Leisding of Storm's flagship, the Dragonwhirl, the journey should take 17 to 25 days depending on how smooth it was. He had sailed the same route for six years, around four round trips in each, and could find the way even with his eyes closed.

As the top commanding officers of the first batch of reinforcements, Claude and his two linesmen seniors were invited to board on the flagship. It was the safest place in the entire fleet, as Dragonwhirl was one of the kingdom's seven class-one warships, armed with 78 cannons spread across three floors and both sides. It had great firepower as well as six masts which could hold 23 sails of different sizes, making it one of the forerunners in speed and agility as well.

The only thing Claude and the two linesmen were unhappy about was the attitude of Storm's high-commissioner, Count Saramento. He probably only invited the three to board the flagship out of tradition and didn't bother to see them again after their first meeting, choosing instead to hide inside the bridge the whole time. His distaste for the three peasant officers was quite apparent since he was a noble himself.

Claude, on the other hand, got along well with Captain Leisding and would look for him for a chat on the helm from time to time. On the 11th day, they encountered an unexpected guest in the Tranquil Ocean. A ship with black sails appeared near the right flank of the fleet. It tailed the fleet from three kilometres away for a good amount of time.

"That's the ship of the Blacksail pirates," Leisding explained, "It's just a scout ship, don't worry. They won't dare attack our navy. We have more than 200 ships with us and they'd better not bite off more than they can chew."

"Piracy is still rampant in this area?" Claude wondered.

Leisding looked around and made sure nobody was nearby. "This route has been free of all pirates, save for Blacksail. The leader of the pirates is actually a traitor of Storm. I heard he's really young and his lair is located among the islands deep in Tranquil Ocean. Storm has tried to pursue them a few times to no avail. Instead, we only have lost warships to show for it. The brass now orders us to close one eye and let them pass if they don't mess with us first."

A young traitor... Claude wondered whether it could be Eriksson.

At noon on the 18th day of the voyage, the fleet finally arrived at Port Cobius in Tyrrsim.

Chapter 336 - Port Cobius

"I've only heard Nubissians have red skin. I didn't think even their seas would be red," Claude said at the sight of the approaching coastline.

It was beyond imagination. It was noon, but the clouds streaking through the skies were pink and the beach and coastline was pale red. Claude and all the officers were quite curious about the new sights.

"What's so weird?" Captain Leisding asked, "You're only awed because it's your first time. You won't think it anything if you stay for a while. I recall the kingdom sent a survey group here a few years ago. I heard a professor say the continent is rich with a kind of reddish matter. It makes the seawater red. As for the reddish skies, I heard it's because of the colour that reflects off the waters and the mountains..."

"I see. How much longer will it take to disembark?" Claude asked.

Leisding looked at the busy port and shook his head.

"I think it'll take two to three more hours. They'll have to move the ships that didn't dock properly out of the way for us to dock. We came with more than two hundred ships after all, so it'd definitely keep them busy for a while. This ship we're on is also a class-one warship, so we must defend the cargo and transport ships as they dock and will only get to dock later."

"There are so many people here at Port Cobius. It seems like the capital of Tyrrsim is a rather populous place indeed," Claude commented.

Leisding laughed heartily. "The reason there's so many people here at Port Cobius is all thanks to the new trade route. The kingdom's ships used to sail east to Port Patres in Robisto, but when the new trade route came around, this place started to pick up in popularity. Conversely, Port Patres became much less crowded. The viceroy of Robisto, Count Farwat, had demanded to switch posts with the viceroy of Tyrrsim, Viscount Cruz. The two had been bickering for quite a while."

"Is the Tyrrsim viceroy still Viscount Jerrihausen Van Cruz?" Claude asked.

"Should be. I'm not too certain about his given and middle names. I only know his family name is Cruz. But I heard he's been viceroy of Tyrrsim for 17 whole years. He'll finish his fourth term in three years and retire to the royal capital. Do you know the Lord Viceroy?"

Claude shook his head.

"I haven't met him before, so I don't have any idea about him. However, my late father did tell me he's my godfather. Apparently, he was the one who named me."

"Then you can finally see him now. I'm sure he'll be incredibly glad to see you," Leisding said as he eyed Claude's lieutenant-colonel shoulder mark.

Claude laughed dryly. He had no plans on going to see his so-called godfather. According to Morssen, Viscount Jerrihausen Van Cruz happened to be travelling through Whitestag on the day of Claude's birth and Morssen was invited to a banquet there. Morssen was overjoyed when he heard that Claude was finally born and excitedly asked the viscount to name him and be his godfather.

Seriously speaking, Morssen was just trying to get to the viscount's good side. In the following years, he took the initiative to write to the viscount about Claude's growth, and the man reciprocated by sending some gifts and toys to the cheap godson of his. But when he took up his position as High-Commissioner of Tyrrsim, he cut off contact with Morssen. Later, Morssen found that the viscount was later promoted to viceroy.

Claude had still been sixteen at the time and his father was contemplating sending him to Tyrrsim to seek out his nominal godfather to serve in his personal guard because that could help him avoid the fate of being drafted and sent to the battlefield. Serving as the viscount's personal guard was no doubt far safer than soldiers on the frontlines, and getting merits and promotions was far easier too.

It was too bad what happened next would be completely out of Morssen's plans. He took a wrong step and went on a downward spiral and was forced to commit suicide. Claude, on the other hand, was recommended to enlist and managed to shine in the war. Not only was he a commissioned lieutenant-colonel of the kingdom, he was a legendary figure in Whitestag.

The viceroy would definitely be glad to acknowledge Claude as his godson now. After all, Claude managed to climb to this rank and control a whole tribe. It could be seen how much brighter his future was compared to the viceroy who was going to retire in three years.

But was there a need for it? The trade route had been established for eight long years. If Viscount Cruz truly cared about his godson, he would've sent someone, or at least a letter, to show his concern. However, no such letter came. He saw them no differently than he would passers by on the street. Perhaps he did ask about the Ferds but thought that they no longer merited any attention after Morssen jumped and Claude enlisted, not to mention the five-year war that proceeded to break out.

Colonel Bolonik approached them. He was Claude's senior and was the linesman of Line 033 of Ranger. Like Claude, he was concerned about when they could dock and asked, "Captain, do you know how many garrison troops Port Cobius has, as the capital of Tyrrsim?"

Leisding gave it some thought and said, "The docks and nearby citadel are guarded by a cannoneer tribe to prevent pirate attacks. There's also a garrison line stationed at the camp in the outer city under the jurisdiction of the high-commissioner that takes care of security and quelling civil revolts. Additionally, the Lord Viceroy and Lord High-Commissioner each have a clan of personal guards that defend their manors. That should be the gist of it. I'm not sure about the rest."

Bolonik looked at the busy docks and saw tent after tent of soldiers disembarking from the transport ships and getting into neat formations. They waited for their mounts to be unloaded before mounting them and entering the city. The crowd at the docks and the roads nearby cheered from time to time.

"How many citizens of our kingdom does Port Cobius have?" Bolonik asked.

Leisding shook his head. "I'm not sure about that either. I heard the whole of Tyrrsim has around 300 thousand people. Since Port Cobius is the capital, there's probably about 80 thousand people here. However, many of the residents here are mix-blood natives, around 40 thousand by my estimation. You should know that they aren't considered Aueran citizens and only pay taxes and serve as labour..."

Dragonwhirl was finally able to dock around three in the afternoon. Admiral Saramento finally stepped out of his cabin and nodded his acknowledgement to those on deck before being the first to disembark. He entered a carriage that was waiting for him at the docks and left with his escorts.

Leisding whispered to Claude, "Count Saramento here has a manor in which he keeps his women. Two sisters live there and the count would always go there every time he comes to Port Cobius. He even deals with his official business there. If the viceroy hosts a banquet tonight, Count Saramento will definitely be attending. Perhaps you'll get a chance to see the sister beauties for yourself..."

When Claude and his two seniors disembarked with their respective attendants, the ones expecting them on the docks came forward.

The leader was a middle-aged man who claimed to be the viceroy's personal secretary. He extended his invitation to Claude and the two linesmen just as Leisding had predicted. Viscount Cruz was holding a grand banquet and ball at his manor that night and all high-ranking officers of Ranger were invited to participate. Naturally, only officers ranked captain and above enjoyed that privilege.

The one who came next was the adjutant of the one in charge of the forces in the colony, High-Commissioner Baron Strassen, the linesman of the local garrison line, and the tribesman of the cannoneer tribe. They were there to welcome the reinforcements and settle their camping and logistics arrangements.

The last of them were some people of repute from Port Cobius. The two white-haired old men were so moved they were crying. They said they hadn't seen the almighty forces of the kingdom for so long. They were awed by the domineering forces and wished them the best of luck on the battlefield and asked them to teach the horrid dogs of the Shiksan colonial forces a harsh lesson.

Claude was confident that those folk would once more put on that show when Miselk arrived with the rest of the forces. He looked around and noticed that most of the people watching near the docks were dark-skinned native youths who wore dejected expressions. When he asked Leisding about it, he was told that the fleets that came would hire them to move goods. But the army didn't have any need for their labour, so they were disappointed they wouldn't get a chance to earn money.

When the two seniors finally finished the long-winded pleasantries with the locals, the three of them finally boarded the carriage to their destinations. Even though they would be meeting again that night during the viceroy's banquet, they would have to go back to prepare. Claude had to head to the new campsite too. Leisding bid the rest of them goodbye since he had left some personal artifacts on Dragonwhirl and had to deal with them first.

The adjutant of High-Commissioner Strassen, Captain Sinks, didn't behave the slightest bit like a soldier. Instead, he seemed more like a sharp-witted merchant. He said that the baron had been bedridden from sickness for two plus months. He would've led his troops to the frontlines had his health been better. It was too bad his old sickness resurfaced just as word of the Shiksan invasion came, so he wasn't able to serve the kingdom and repel its enemies.

The captain then asked the two linesmen whether they had additional supplies for sale as the high-commissioner's personal guard was armed with outdated weapons. He even said he wouldn't mind buying the weapons for a higher price.

The linesman of Port Cobius' garrison line, Lieutenant-Colonel Avilad, was a huge, fat man who had no opinions of his own. Bolonik asked him about the situation of Tyrrsim's garrison forces but all he got was vague and unhelpful answers. He wasn't even aware of the number of forces remaining in the other four towns in the colony and said that it wasn't his responsibility since all he was tasked with was the security of Port Cobius.

Port Cobius was separated into the inner and outer city. The docks and the inner city were sectioned off by a wall. Upon entering the gates, the prosperous sights of the inner city were plain to see. From time to time, the kingdom's citizens would pay their respects to the Ranger troops. The men would remove their hats in a greeting while the women waved. Cheers could be heard from time to time.

But the moment they left the inner city, Claude realised that all the short buildings were built from red clay and wood. Even the roads were muddy and made of the same red clay. The residents on both sides of the roads that looked at the forces were mostly dark-skinned mix-blood residents with dull expressions. Few people on the streets looked like the white folk of the kingdom.

The difference between the inner and outer cities was night and day.

"How many mix-blood natives are there here? Has there been a census?" Claude asked Captain Sinks. He couldn't be bothered to ask the fatty lieutenant-colonel since he doubted that he'd be able to answer anyway.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm not aware of that either," Sinks explained, "We serve the Lord High-Commissioner and aren't aware of matters of administration, which fall under the Lord Viceroy's domain. However, I've heard that they number around 200 thousand five to six years ago."

"What do they do to make a living?" Claude asked.

Sinks shook his head. "Who knows? Either they work simple jobs or go to the docks for rough work. The young women would sell their bodies on the streets or in the taverns and some luckier males can get long-term jobs at the farms and orchards in the outskirts. I heard some big shots in the inner city started a factory in the outer city and hired many workers."

"By the way, since your high-commissioner is bedridden, have you carried out the order from the kingdom to form new garrison units?" Bolonik asked out of the blue.

"This... I'm not too sure. It should be Lieutenant-Colonel Avilad's duty. He's the linesman of the garrison line after all." Sinks didn't hesitate to push responsibility.

The fat linesman panicked a little. "The Lord High-Commissioner didn't give me any formal order. How would I be able to recruit more troops without funding and equipment?"

Claude's two seniors could only shake their heads. They hadn't expected to run into this kind of predicament. The troops of the colony were so corrupt that they were beyond saving.

By the time they arrived at the camp in the outer city, even the two patient seniors seemed a little angry. "This is the camp you prepared for us?"

It truly was too run-down. The gates didn't have many planks remaining and the walls surrounding it was half-collapsed. They could simply cross it on foot, not to mention mounted.

"Apologies, Sir," Sinks sincerely apologised, "This camp has always been like that. The moment the garrison line leaves the city, these mix-blood bastards will come to steal bricks and take whatever they see. There's no other empty space in Port Cobius apart from here for you to set up camp..."

Chapter 337 - The High-Commissioner's Problem

Claude didn't take part in the viceroy's banquet. Hies two linesmen seniors had no choice but to participate, however, as they were the highest-ranked officers -- colonels -- of the first batch of reinforcements. They had to get Tyrrsim's cooperation for reserves and logistical support after all, and refusing an invitation from the viceroy was a quick and easy way to complicate things unnecessarily.

The high-commissioner, Baron Strassen, however, had excused himself from the banquet on account of his sickness. The local garrison's current state was also a total mess. Under such circumstances, Ranger had to have a proper talk with the viceroy to deal with the issue.

The two seniors took a third of the officers with them while Claude was to stay in barracks and monitor its setup and that of the defence perimeter. Claude was quite unsettled by the natives sneaking glances at them as he realised they seemed to see the tightly guarded facility as a place worth pillaging. They looked at it with greed.

Baron Strassen's adjutant, Captain Sinks, did come over. Claude mentioned the natives and Sinks said it was normal. They were just looking for chances to make a profit. They didn't even have to be paid in money. A piece or two of black bread was enough to purchase their labour.

There were, however, some precautions to be taken when hiring them. According to Sinks, they were thieves and liars. One careless slip was all it took to lose belongings and money. In the time Port Cobius' garrison had been camped outside the city, almost all the soldiers had received the attention of a nikancha or two.

Nikancha, in ancient Hez, were mix-bloods. The word was not flattering.

Whilst they had a name, they were not considered a race in their own right. The full-blooded natives were eitat. It means 'dark-red'.

The name for the nikancha existed only so they could be discussed with just a single word, and to make it clear they were not natives, as far as the natives were concerned. They were pale compared to their full-blooded counterparts, and extensive exposure to sunlight charred them, which never happened to eitat. Eitat also glowed in the sun, much like rust just before it melted and became iron again -- which the nikancha did not.

Sinks revealed the real reason of his visit after an hour's banter. He hoped Tribe 131 would sell some of their weapons to him so his line could be reformed. When Claude refused, he offered to buy at double the price and hinted Claude could even report a couple lost or damaged beyond repair and pocket the money.

It was strange. High-Commissioner Strassen shouldn't lack equipment. The kingdom didn't have gunneries on Nubissia, but each colony always had a stockpile of 20 thousand firearms. It was also topped up every three years.

Considering that Sinks had come to him after being refused by his seniors, there was definitely a hidden agenda. He tried to figure out the real reason Sinks wanted the firearms so badly.

While the man didn't act like a soldier, he was a perfectly qualified merchant and really tight lipped. He only said he had long heard of the more accurate muskets and wanted to switch out the old armaments he had for the Mark 3. Naturally, Claude wouldn't sell it to him just because he raised the price. Sinks left empty handed.

His seniors and their companions returned from the banquet a few hours later. In stark contrast to the excited officers who drank themselves crimson, the two linesmen were dejected. When Claude asked them about it, their explanations let him understand why Sinks was so desperate.

It was utterly preposterous! The high-commissioner had been illegally selling the 20 thousand muskets. Port Cobius didn't have enough firearms for two tribes. Each of the four towns was supposed to have a tribe, but the high-commissioner reduced them to two bands. On paper, however, they still had the full tribes. The surplus supplies and equipment was sold.

"How?" Claude gasped, "Doesn't the kingdom audit the colonies regularly? This should've been discovered years ago! How did he get away with it? Not to mention there must be a buyer. Who'd he sell it all to?"

Colonel Bolonik answered.

"Baron Strassen is Her Majesty the Queen's nephew."

"Ugh..."

That shut Claude up instantly.

The linesman of Line 034, Colonel Sevict, continued his comrade's explanation.

"Baron Strassen is the queen's most beloved nephew. He only got the post because she pulled strings. He's been high-commissioner for eight years now. The ministry sent people to audit the garrisons regularly before the war, but the auditors didn't do a thorough job in his case because of his connection with the queen. The audits stopped with the war, and haven't resumed yet.

"Baron Strassen's always wanted the viceroicy. He and the viceroy have never gotten along. The viceroy conducted an audit of his own accord and discovered the high-commissioner's corruption. At the very least he's not sold the weapons to other kingdoms. He's sold it out to the locals. Almost every household owns at least one firearm bought from him."

"He dares sell firearms to peasants?!"

Claude had never thought it possible. Firearms were tightly regulated. Peasants couldn't buy them, anywhere. Just being in possession of one without clear proof of a sponsor, even if it was just a very temporary thing, was severely punished. Several years of labour was considered light punishment.

"This is an overseas colony," Bolonik reminded, "Peasants have to forge a new way of life. The kingdom knows how rugged this place is, so they issue special permits for firearm ownership here. They have to be enlisted in the militia to be allowed firearms.

"The high-commissioner's been handing out permits and memberships left, right, and centre. He's been using the 'large militia' as an excuse for his reduction in personnel since he was found out.

"The fat linesman, Lieutenant-Colonel Avilad is the high-commissioner's trusted aide. He's been playing merchant for him. They've even submitted false uprising reports to cover the massive loss of firearms on occasion they felt someone was looking at their paperwork for too long. They've also been pocketing the pensions of the 'dead'."

"Why is the captain trying to buy muskets, then?" Claude asked.

"They have to rearm and reform the garrison. They have to double their current soldier count to get it to the 3500 required. Each town is supposed to have 800 garrisoneers. They barely have ten tents in the entire colony.

"While recruiting new soldiers wouldn't be difficult, they wouldn't be able to arm them sufficiently. Viceroy Cruz secret sent people to check out their arsenal and said that not a single intact musket was left within. In peacetime, Baron Strassen can hire the musket-owning peasants to pose as garrison troops to trick the auditors, and nobody would want to piss him off due to the queen's support anyway.

"But we are now at war and recruiting and hired men at short notice wouldn't be easy. The ministry of the army's auditors are also on their way. They will immediately notice the discrepancies and start asking questions.

"If the high-commissioner can get weapons from us and get his garrison close enough to the regulation amount, he might just be able to convince them to let it slide," Sevict explained.

"And did Viceroy Cruz tell you all that?" Claude asked.

The two seniors nodded with a gloomy look.

"His personal secretary even showed us the proof they found. According to their estimations, Baron Strassen gets around 12 thousand to 15 thousand crowns in profit from his corrupt practices as high-commissioner," Sevict said.

It truly was a big sum.

"Since the viceroy already has proof, why didn't he report this to the court or the ministry of the army?" Claude immediately noticed the catch when he finished the question. After thinking it through, he figured it out.

"Darn it, that bastard wants to use us as his scapegoats!" Claude cursed.

The two seniors smiled bitterly. Even Claude was able to figure out why they returned in a bad mood.

The old bastard Cruz truly was crafty. Since he was the viceroy, military affairs were out of his jurisdiction. With the proof of the high-commissioner's transgressions in hand, he could use it to threaten him and demand that he not cause trouble for him. But when wartime came around and Baron Strassen was going to be in trouble, the viceroy could hand over the proof to appear innocent and free from suspicion.

The viceroy would definitely not report to the court or the ministry of the army. After all, Baron Strassen was supported by the queen, and it wouldn't be hard to guess that the queen definitely had a share in the ill-begotten profits. If the viceroy snitched on the high-commissioner, he would effectively get on the queen's bad side.

Having spent so many years in the colony, the viceroy had many chances to make some extra income, and if the queen really sent people to investigate it, there would definitely be no shortage of people who would testify against him. It would be too easy to cause him trouble. A simple check of the colony's accounts would reveal some flaws in the alterations the viceroy or his subordinates made to them. Should that really come to pass, the personal wealth the viceroy accumulated after so many years might vanish with a puff.

That was why no matter how bad his relationship with High-Commissioner Strassen, he wouldn't provide any evidence of the latter's transgressions. However, Ranger was here to reinforce the colonies against the Shiksan colonial forces and reorganise the local garrisons. Strassen should be playing his part in aiding them, but his feigning sickness to protect himself was only a tactic to buy time.

The reason Cruz chose this point in time to take out proof was simple. He wanted Ranger's officers to cause trouble for Baron Strassen. That way, the queen only had her inept nephew to blame and perhaps be displeased with Ranger for not giving her face instead of blaming it on the viceroy. Since it was wartime, what the baron did couldn't be hidden forever, so it would be in the viceroy's best interests to hand over the proof so that he wouldn't be accused for being incompetent and punished for neglect.

Chapter 338 - Planning

The three were speechless.

After a long moment, Bolonik could not hold it.

"Come on, let's come up with some ideas on what to do next. Whether Baron Strassen is guilty has nothing to do with us. We just need him to hand over the authority of the forces in Tyrrsim. Without doing so, we won't be able to achieve our goal of forming more reserve forces here. The garrison troops here are already a huge mess."

Sevict grimaced.

"Even though we are also given the mission of restructuring the garrisons, we don't have authority to take charge over it ourselves. We'll have to wait until the rest of the folk and the staff from the army to be sent here to take over command. Baron Strassen is also the queen's nephew and the high-commissioner here, so he can just refuse to cooperate with us using his sickness excuse."

"Then we can arrest him for not doing his duty and corruption!" Bolonik said, opting for the harsher option, "We already have the proof the viceroy gave us. It is wartime now and we can't afford to let the baron delay our precious time. It is another story if he knows what's at stake and cooperates. He can deal with his misdemeanours later and still have three to four months of freedom. But if he doesn't cooperate, we'll send him to the jail cells. We can't have him delay us any longer."

Even though going in quick for the act was a good move, it was easy to go too far. Sevict shook his head, silently showing his objections to Bolonik's proposal. It was quite laughable, actually. Ranger was supposed to be the most trusted force of the royal family, yet they were going to start taking out the queen's nephew on the very first day in Tyrrsim. It was truly quite ironic.

"What do you think?" Sevict asked Claude.

Claude had been thinking about the matter for quite some time.

"Perhaps we're oversimplifying this matter. Before arriving here in Nubissia, we thought that the forces of the garrison here should be more or less the same as our kingdom's. But it appears that we've been too optimistic about the forces in the colonies. I think we have to change our original plan completely. We have to leave a line behind to organise get the local garrison force and reserve troops into shape.

"Otherwise, I am quite certain that our three units will have to face the enemy alone on the battlefield if the rear isn't able to support us properly. If our casualties get too high and we stretch ourselves too thin, we won't be able to set up a firm defence line to weather the enemy's assault. I believe it wouldn't take more than three to four months for the enemy to fight their way here.

"First, we must definitely take over control of the local garrison force. If Baron Strassen is willing to cooperate and hand over his authority as high-commissioner, we'll let him stay home and play sick. We can also supply the garrison line and the four garrison tribes of the towns with armaments. If he isn't willing, then I suppose it wouldn't be weird for another high-commissioner to perish on the battlefield. After all, one of the seven high-commissioners in the colonies has already made a precedent for that."

Bolonik and Sevict were completely tongue tied. Bolonik had only been plotting to capture Strassen, but Claude was even harsher and had planned to send him to die a hero's death on the battlefield. But upon closer consideration, they had to admit that Claude's plan was even better. A dead man was easy to take care of. There wouldn't be any traces of scandals or crimes committed, so the royal family would be able to keep their reputation. In fact, Baron Strassen's sacrifice would bring them even more glory.

"I believe Baron Strassen wouldn't have any other option but to obediently work with us. I'm sure he would be satisfied that we would be making up for the hole in their arsenal with our own," Sevict said with a smile.

"We're definitely not letting him off that easily. He has to fund us with a sum of at least 50 thousand crowns to show his undying loyalty to the kingdom," Claude said.

Stunned, Bolonik asked, "Can that be possible? How could he be willing to pay that kind of money?"

"Of course he would. Just count it yourself. The hole of four thousand soldiers each year can amount to thus: each soldier's salary and bonus will be two crowns. That alone shows that he's pocketed more than 8000 crowns. Coupled with the military funding, the armaments he sold and the pension for the faked soldier deaths, that old fox probably earns around 15 thousand crowns minimum. We don't want that much either, only the sum of the profit he gets in three years. If he isn't willing to pay out to make up for his transgressions at death's door, we'll send him to die on the battlefield."

While Claude only made a general estimation, the two linesmen agreed with that sum. With it, they would have a much easier time recruiting soldiers and supplying them instead of having to haggle with the viceroy for more military funding. Time was short and too many delays would be detrimental to the war effort.

"What do we do about the linesman of Port Cobius' garrison, Avilad? I heard he's a trusted aide of Baron Strassen. He was the one who conducted the firearms sales. There's also Captain Sinks. I suspect he has his hands deep into the matter as well. He was the one who approached us for the purchase of firearms, after all," Bolonik said.

"All of Baron Strassen's men who know about the severity of their crimes will be brought to the frontlines in the name of being our guides. Hopefully, Baron Strassen will hand over his authority and cooperate. Otherwise he'll volunteer to scout the enemy lines for us."

Claude believed Baron Strassen would make the wise choice. Even though he would lose his power and a huge sum of money, he would be absolved from all his crimes. With everyone involved in the scandal sent to the frontlines, it'll depend on their own luck whether they could make it back or not. Most importantly, the royal family's reputation would be protected. As the queen's nephew, the baron was a close relative to the royal family and if his transgressions were brought to light, it would become a huge scandal in the kingdom. Should that come to pass, every time a royal was appointed to a public position, they would be seriously regarded by the officials with suspicion.

That was the reason Claude's seniors believed sending Baron Strassen to be sacrificed on the battlefield to be the best move. After all, even if the baron did cooperate, he might get back at the three to settle his grudge. It was extremely likely that he would put in a few bad words about those three to the queen for payback for his lost money.

Claude didn't mind, however. The three had decided to make records of all that had happened and would hand over proof of the baron's misconduct to General Miselk, who would, in turn, pass it on to Prince Hansbach. It probably wouldn't take long for Baron Strassen to be displaced by the Stellin royal family. A baron without power wouldn't be able to do much against Claude and his seniors. In fact, the king would be thankful to them for protecting the royal family's reputation.

"We're pressed for time. I will let Tribe 131 rest for one more day tomorrow. The day after that, we have to start scouting the frontlines to get a grasp on the current state of war. We need to know how far the Shiksan colonial forces have advanced and which places they've conquered. That's why we only have one day to solve the problem of Baron Strassen. If he really doesn't play along, we'll drag him to the frontlines by force."

Claude glanced at the two seniors.

"One of you will have to stay behind with a line to take care of the reorganisation of the garrison. Tyrrsim must have at least two garrison lines ready to send to the frontlines. We don't even have to run a recruitment drive. Didn't the baron sell those firearms to the peasants? We'll conscript some by force into the reserve forces according to that list. Any household that has three men will have to send one to serve, or we shall arrest them as deserters, confiscate their assets and send them to the labour camps."

"This is war. I believe it can fly," Bolonik agreed, "During the banquet, I've asked Viscount Cruz about this. He said that we are free to recruit two lines' worth of garrison troops out of the 370 thousand citizens spread across the port and the four towns."

"Our time is short. We can only stay here for ten days at most before heading to the frontlines to set up the defence line, but we can't be sure whether the two lines of forces will be ready to leave with us by then," Sevict said.

"Let's just form them first. We'll worry about training once we're on the way," Bolonik said, not holding out much hope, "If the enemy hasn't arrived by the time we set up the defence lines, we can spare some time to drill these garrison troops on how to fight defensively."

"Let's unite all the garrison troops from Port Cobius and the four towns to form a proper line first. We'll form one new keeper clan for each of the towns. We also have to leave a keeper tribe here to prevent any native revolts."

Claude went to his desk and opened the map of the Aueran colonies and tapped at a point. "Actually, I'm more worried that Baron Strassen's case wouldn't be isolated. If the high-commissioners of the other colonies are just like him, then I don't hold out much hope for their local garrison forces..."

"Look at the map," Claude continued, "Apart from Balingana, the Aueran colonies are lined up single file along the coast. To the south of Tyrrsim is Aduras, and directly south of it is the endless Ancient Forest. Nobody should be enter or leave that place, so we don't have to worry about the safety of Aduras.

"To the north of Tyrrsim is Mormaly, and further north is Anfiston, which is in turn connected to Balingana and Robisto. Balingana is the only colony of the kingdom located inland and most of it is spread out across the Albator Plains. Additionally, Balingana is the colony with the largest river on the continent, Dorinibla River, which is connected to the waterways in Robisto. Transporting goods through Dorinibla River should be really convenient.

"Balingana and Robisto, on the other hand, are connected with Cromwell, which has fallen into the enemy hands before we departed. Currently, the enemy forces have split up into two, heading for Balingana and Robisto respectively.

"According to news from the ministry of the army, Shiks had wanted to field two open-field battle corps in their colony. Their local garrison forces also amount up to a whole corps. The moment war broke out, they sent another corps there and we are still unaware of whether they sent any more reinforcements. My estimates put their aggregate forces around four corps, that is to say, around 250 thousand men."

Bolonik and Sevict both agreed with the assessment. What Claude brought up was common knowledge. The estimation of the colonial forces of Shiks was also quite accurate.

"Before the war broke out, Shiks demanded to be given Cromwell, Balingana and Robisto. It's apparent from that that those three colonies are their targets in this war. Naturally, if our garrisons prove to be unable to weather their assault, I doubt they'd mind taking all our colonies.

"Our kingdom doesn't wish to go to war with Shiks as they're a superpower in Northern Freia, and for the fact that we've only concluded a five-year war. Even though we emerged victorious, the kingdom is drained from the war effort and is no longer able to mount another offensive on Nubissia with Shiks. So, all the kingdom could do was transport Ranger to teach the colonial forces a lesson in hopes of forcing them into a ceasefire.

"In fact, Shiks has about the same number of colonies with our kingdom on Nubissia, but most of them are located inland. It was only after they obtained the Nasrian colony that they got access to a good port city like Port Vebator, making it convenient and risk free for them to safely transport their forces and supplies on land.

"So, Port Vebator is crucial for the safety of all the Shiksan colonies. Perhaps the reason they want Balingana and Robisto from us because they want a second and third supplementary port at which to dock safely.

"That's why I believe apart from one of the four corps of Shiks which will be left behind to quell native revolts, another corps should be stationed to defend Port Vebator and the part of our colonies they've conquered. In that sense, I believe they only have two corps to attack Balingana and Robisto with.

"Those two colonies' capital cities are on our side of Dorinibla River, so the enemy will have to cross it first before they can attack them. Robisto's capital, Port Patres, used to be the endpoint of Fearless' eastward trade route and has always had tight defensive fortifications. So, it would be really difficult for one Shiksan corps to take it. If they want to use heavy-siege cannons for that, they will require even more time.

"Tribe 131 shall depart the day after and we are estimated to take half a month to arrive in Anfiston. The mission folk command gave us is to set up the first defence line in Anfiston. I will be sending out my scouts to Balingana and Robisto ahead of us to get a grasp on enemy movements and launch attacks on their supply lines and their smaller, scattered units to slow their advance."

Bolonik watched as Claude explained their plan using the map. He now knew Claude's intentions. "I got it. I'll stay back and reorganise these colonial garrison troops. We'll try to have Sevict's Line 034 and the two corps of Tyrrsim's garrison head north in half a month to set up a defence line at Anfiston to complete our mission."

Chapter 339 - Encounter

"Sir, I've got answers. These are the kingdom's citizens in Anfiston. They said the Shiksan scout tents raided the colonies mercilessly the last month. High-Commissioner Machek's forces were defeated in a single battle. Less than a quarter of them made it back.

"The viceroy, Viscount Franz, gathered what remained of their garrison and decided to defend the capital, Grinosburg, to the death. He gave up on everything else. It allowed the enemy scouts to come and go as they pleased. The town administrations are worsening and the nikancha appear about to revolt. The kingdom's subject are perturbed and have packed their bags. They've fled from the front," Myjack reported.

Claude was now on a small hill beside the road on horseback. He could only smile bitterly at the sight of the long, winding road congested with carriages. Tribe 131 marched a force for 13 days only to be blocked by the people fleeing from Anfiston. Given the size of that caravan, who could tell how long it would take for them to pass?

He thought there were so many refugees because Shiks had conquered Robisto and Balingana and were targeting Anfiston. However, Myjack's survey revealed the colony-spanning chaos was caused by just a few enemy scouts.

"Have everyone dismount. We'll continue once the convoy's passed," Claude decided.

He expected to have about an hour to himself, but just a few minutes after they'd stopped, Gum reported the convoy had sent representatives to talk with him.

A few middle-aged, elderly gentlemen in prime attire appeared before Claude. They introduced themselves as the people in charge of Anfiston's mining association. They had initially decided to give up on their businesses and flea to Tyrrsim, from whence they would sail to the mainland. When they saw the kingdom's elites resting on the side of the road, they were certain the war would turn in their favour. They wanted to know how many reinforcements had been sent. If it was substantial, they would wait for the war to turn and return to their homes.

Their numbers were no secret, so he informed them.

The representatives were overjoyed. The colony had clearly not been abandoned. They might not lose Anfiston at all, if the defences Claude had discussed were formidable enough.

Claude was quite curious why they didn't organise their own resistance since their livelihoods were at stake. The Shiksan forces had only sent scouts, after all. Was there a need to abandon their homes?

He was informed that the viceroys and high-commissioners were all... eccentric. Tyrrsim's high-commissioner had sold the army's arms. Anfiston's high-commissioner and the late Machek, were anti musket ownership. They strictly prohibited peasants from owning any firearms.

Anfiston was the largest industrial area in the seven colonies and produced more than 30 different products and resources, primary amongst them were gold and silver. In Aueras, gold and silver ore were considered the kingdom's greatest military resource. Everything was state owned. Most of the businesses and the members of Anfiston's mining association were owners and entrepreneurs of other types of ore and mostly used mix-blood natives in their mining operations.

As Anfiston's peasants were forbidden from owning firearms, so the mine owners were allowed to use only cold weapons like crossbows. The garrisons were usually well armed and supplied, and the natives were well treated, so no one had ever feared rebellion.

That all changed when Shiks invaded Cromwell. First, High-Commissioner Machek led his garrison out of their strongholds to reinforce the colony. Then he was killed along with the majority of his men. Only a couple escaped the massacre. Most of them fled straight to Port Patres, Robisto's capital, where they were pushed onto the walls to hold it.

When news of the loss spread, Viscount Cruz, who wasn't familiar with anything military, lost his cool and gathered all his men in Grinosburg. When Machek left to reinforce Cromwell, he left a clan of garrison troops in each town and was barely able to keep them in order. But the situation quickly worsened after the viceroy recalled all the troops.

The natives were called nikancha because of their horrid habits. Lying and stealing was normal and they didn't think what they were doing was wrong. Instead, they would get frustrated if their lies were seen through or when they were arrested. No matter how badly they apologised, if one felt sympathy for them and released them, they would giggle gleefully at their own smarts.

That was the general view the people who had interacted with the mix-blood natives. Only through whipping would the nikancha do what they were told obediently. All one needed to do was tell them what they could and couldn't do, not listen to their excuses as most of what they said couldn't be differentiated between truth or lies anyway. Who knew whether they were mocking you to be a fool for being so easy to cheat if you let them off? They wouldn't be grateful for the kindness shown to them at all and would instead revel in their perceived intellectual superiority.

While the garrison forces were still stationed in the towns, the nikancha still behaved obediently and did their work. But the moment they were called to Grinosburg, the nikancha began to go haywire. They stole, robbed and committed countless other atrocities in broad daylight. The kingdom's citizens had no choice but to band together to protect their homes and families, but their cold weapons didn't pose much of a threat against the nikancha. Instead, some of them who knew how to hunt and had crossbows were a larger threat to the kingdom's citizens.

In that situation, the members of the mining association decided to see the viceroy in hopes of temporarily removing the ban on firearms and distribute some of them to the town's peasants. That way, they could form their own garrisons and stop the eager nikancha and survive this time of tribulation.

It was a shame that the stubborn viceroy refused the proposal, citing the Shiksan forces would be attacking Anfiston soon as a reason. He said he had decided to fight to the bitter end for the sake of the kingdom and defend Grinosburg.

The firearms in the stores had to be used to resist the invaders and couldn't be distributed to the peasants. The viceroy saw arming the peasants as benefiting the enemy as they hadn't been properly trained to use them and could easily lose the guns to the nikancha, thus making them even more of a threat to the garrison forces.

So, it appeared that the harassment of the Shiksan scouts wasn't the reason for the citizens' frantic escape from their homes. They only raided a few orchards or farms near the towns' outskirts and burned down a few buildings while killing a few nikancha and kingdom citizens. They didn't dare to barge into the towns that brashly.

The real reason was the worsening of security in their towns and the fact that the townsfolk didn't have the firepower necessary to suppress the mix-blood natives. They had to leave the towns for another colony to make sure their families were safe.

Having encountered Claude's Tribe 131 in the midst of their journey, the citizens saw hope in being able to return to their homes. None of them would willingly abandon the livelihoods and homes they tried so hard to build up if they had a choice.

Most of the carriages on the road began to turn around as the beasts of burden groaned. Those who weren't going to return and had set their minds on going to the other colonies were separated out and allowed to continue their way. However, there weren't many of them and they wouldn't affect Tribe 131's advance.

Claude gathered all his clansmen and rolled the map open to delegate tasks.

Apart from Grinosburg, Anfiston had four mining towns, one town and one fishing town. The four mining towns were located in the mountains and mainly produced ores. The single normal town was the only one located on flat land in the whole of Anfiston. Orchards and farmland surrounded the town, making it the colony's breadbasket. There was another fishing town located near Grinosburg.

"Captain Berklin, have your light-cavalry clan head to the town of Lanu. Maintain order there and send a few scouts into Robisto. Remember, don't let the Shiksan scouts enter Anfiston ever again."

"Understood!" Berklin saluted.

"Captain Moriad, your mission is to lead your clan to Rosas. It's the nearest mining town to Balingana. Make sure to send scouts into Balingana as you suppress and revolters and maintain order. Get a good grasp on the situation there, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Moriad replied.

"Captain Dyavid, lead your clan to Fenkayka. You know what you need to do, right?"

"Don't worry, Sir. I do." Dyavid smiled.

"Captain Cashmille, bring your clan to Avikra."

"Yes, Sir," Cashmille said with a salute.

"Captain Andruk, I'll leave Bodeman to you."

Captain Andruk was a staff officer who had been promoted by Claude to take the post as clansman of Berklin's clan. He didn't talk much and did his work without any fuss, much to Claude's appreciation. Now that Berklin was made clansman of the light-cavalry clan, his empty post was filled in by Andruk.

Claude looked at the clansman of the cannoneer clan, Captain Abovik, and instructed him to send out five tents of cannoneers each to accompany each of the five clans. That way, each clan would have the support of two light-infantry cannons, making it easier for them to defend the towns.

"Gentlemen, your main objective after arriving at each of these towns is to stop the nikancha revolt and restore order and safety. Help the kingdom's citizens settle back into their homes. Additionally, you are to scout and patrol the borders to prevent the Shiksan scouts from entering Anfiston once more. Send out an elite tent to Balingana and Robisto to observe the situation.

"Furthermore, form a tribe of garrison troops in each of those towns. This is our top priority. I will send you the armaments to arm the men with after entering Grinosburg. Please note that only after forming those garrison tribes will our rear be kept safe. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to continue our advance into Balingana and Robisto to fulfil our mission.

"Alright, I believe the guides are ready. Let's depart." Claude clapped his hands to encourage his men.

"Sir, how should we deal with the revolting mix-blood natives?" Cashmille asked.

Claude shook his head with a smile and a cold gaze. "Shoot those who resist dead. Hang the leaders by the roads. Capture the followers and use them as labourers. We have to be strict and forceful in wartime."

When the officers left, Major Schnak looked at the map and reminded Claude, "Sir, you forgot about the fishing town in Anfiston..."

"I know. This fishing town is only some 15 kilometres away from Grinosburg, so half a day's travel away. It's quite far back and is still safe for now. I've asked the mine owners and members of the mining association about it and there were no refugees from the fishing town. We'll send a clan over there to check it out after we enter Grinosburg."

On the 11th of the 9th month in Year 584 of the Sacred Light Era, Claude and Tribe 131 entered the capital of Anfiston, Grinosburg.

Chapter 340 - Claude Defence Line

Three days earlier, on the 20th of the 10th month, Claude made it to Colonel Sevict's fort in the Mosraka mountains in Anfiston.

"Balingana is in far more dire straits than Robisto. Its capital's been encircled by Shiks for three months. The colony's four towns have fallen. According to our prisoners' testimonies, the enemy believes they can take Brikaman in no more than a month. Balingana will be fully conquered when it falls.

"Robisto is faring much better. The capital's defences are tight. Shiks has launched several attacks but have been driven back with high casualties each time. Apart from the three towns now conquered. The two towns still on our side of the port haven't fallen yet.

"Robisto isn't threatened from the land. The threat is at sea. Shiks' navy has sent a flotilla to work with the Pancry corps in an amphibious assault. They're bombarding the port with their shipboard cannons. The prisoners said the flotilla lost two ships. Three are damaged and have had to limp back to Port Vebator for repairs. We won that particular engagement, but Port Patres didn't come out unscathed. The docks are in ruins, and most of the wall-top cannons are rubble.

"It seems Robisto will be safe for the time being, but if Balingana falls and Krado regroups with Pancry and the flotilla... Port Patres might yet smoulder."

And so 20 days of scouting had been laid bare. Berklin had at one point led a tent behind enemy lines into the port capital to meet the viceroy, Count Farwat, and the high-commissioner, Colonel Tristed. He brought a request back with him. They desperately needed cannons if they were going to hold out.

Claude had no idea where he was going to get those cannons, however. Since the variety mounted on the walls weren't meant for field operation, they were supposed to just sit in one spot all the time, they were several times heavier than anything he had. Other things aside, only Grinosburg had any, and only four.

Even if he got his hands on some, however, he had no means of transport. He was not going to break through enemy lines and lug it overland. He would have no men left by the time he reached the city walls, nevermind cannons. The only option was by sea. That was how all the port cities in the colonies had been supplied. Port Patres had had 19 just a year ago, now it had only 7 still in operation.

If there was one navy superior to Aueras', however, it was Shiks'. They had only sent a flotilla of 20-odd ships against Port Patres, but they'd flattened the docks and half the dockside districts of the city. A quarter of the flotilla had been sunk or sent limping home, but they still had 15 ships, several of which were still anchored outside the harbor.

Claude didn't understand what the kingdom's two navies were doing. Storm excused themselves by saying they couldn't go north to engage the enemy as they had to make sure the new trade route was kept secure. Fearless on the other hand was completely invisible. Not even a shadow of a trace could be seen near the waters of the kingdom's colonies, allowing the tens of Shiksan ships to sail about unabated there.

He shook his head to refocus his train of thought.

Sevict looked around the map and said, "Lieutenant-Colonel Claude, you mean to say we should set our defence line here?"

Claude snapped back to reality and nodded.

"This is the border between the two colonies. Balingana sits on the Albator Plains and Anfiston is mostly mountainous, investing most of their development in mining. So, we can set up our defence line along Mosraka Mountains and use the terrain advantage to defend against our enemy's attacks. As long as our fortifications are proper, we wouldn't have to worry about enemies coming from Albator Plains.

"As for the area between Robisto and Anfiston, which is a good place for our enemy's corps to travel through, we have to dig trenches and erect defensive walls and strongholds to link it to our defence line. That way, we can properly defend the southern side of Anfiston. Even if both Balingana and Robisto fall to enemy hands, we can still use this defence line to hold them back."

Sevict looked at the map and looked around at the terrain from time to time and nodded. "You did choose a good place to set up the defence line. However, the workload might be a little too large and take too much time as a result."

Claude laughed. "Why would more time be a problem? We have more than enough men. The nikancha youth locked up in the towns will be what we're using to construct this defence line. Additionally, Tribe 131 also received more than a clan of captive Shiksan soldiers, right? Use them as labourers too. Trust me, their numbers will only grow."

He wasn't joking at all; it was completely true. For young officers like Moriad, war was a time to rake in merit. They suppressed the nikancha revolts per Claude's orders and reformed the garrisons in those towns, before sending out their scouts into the warzone.

Initially, it was thought that Shiks would definitely have a strong army because the nation was the hegemon of Northern Freia. However, when the scouts from Ranger had a small skirmish with enemy scouts, an unbelievable truth was revealed. Nobody would've expected the Shiksan colonial forces to be easy pushovers. They didn't have anything else apart from foolish bravery. In fact, they were even inferior to the local keepers of Aueras.

Take for example the time Berklin told Claude about his first encounter with the enemy scouts. Back then, he split his tent of 12 men into three groups of four in an arrow formation some hundred metres away from each other as they headed for Robisto. They ran into some enemy scouts when they passed through a swamp. The moment they spotted Berklin's group of four, the twelve Shiksan scouts galloped their way with blades drawn and courage mustered.

Berklin said that they were utterly panicked when they saw their enemy charging at them with such fervour and almost wanted to turn tail to run. However, they calmed down when they noticed their enemies drew their blades instead of using their muskets. They raised their own muskets, took aim, and fired when the enemy was some 70 metres away before turning tail and running without checking whether they'd hit.

However, they no longer heard any sound of chase from behind after running for a few hundred metres. They turned back and noticed that the enemy had stopped. A simple count showed that three of the four scouts charging at them were shot by Berklin's group of four, resulting in two deaths and one injury. The remaining nine enemies stopped their chase and raised their muskets to randomly fire at Berklin and the others. Obviously, their bullets flew to who-knows-where. The enemy then collected the corpses and helped their injured comrade before escaping, much to Berklin and the rest's stupor.

Since the enemy tried to run, Berklin and gang gave chase. He also instructed the other two groups following behind them to flank them from the sides. They reloaded on firm ground and mounted to begin their pursuit. The enemy, upon noticing the four giving chase, angrily sent out six riders towards them. Berklin and his men raised their muskets again and fired, hitting three of the men, before going in for a melee.

No fight broke out, they didn't even clash in close combat. The three of the six that survived immediately turned tail and ran, leaving even their injured comrade and the corpses behind. However, not one of them managed to escape. The two groups caught up with them and flanked them with their muskets raised, cutting off their escape route.

In the end, the six surviving scouts stopped their mounts, dismounted and raised both hands to surrender. Berklin was so shocked at the sight that he almost hurt his jaw when it dropped.

"Sir, I think the enemy can't even take a hit," Berklin reported, "They fight using old tactics and muskets. You can't imagine our surprise when we found that the enemy convoy escorts were armed with trumpet-muzzle muskets, the kind that can't even use a bayonet attachment. And when they discovered us and tried to attack us, the first thing they did was blow the whistle for the line formation. They wanted to use volley fire to stop us. I was completely dazed."

Berklin said they instantly got on the ground and shot the still, neatly lined-up human targets. In fact, the unit participating in that attack was a band of light cavalry that numbered less than sixty. Their target was a Shiksan logistics convoy defended by an escort numbering more than 200 men that was heading to an enemy camp outside Port Patres, but they so happened to bump into Berklin's light-cavalry band when they were on patrol.

Berklin hadn't wanted to exterminate them, only harass them some and sending them running. Yet, he didn't expect the enemy to conveniently arrange themselves into still targets for them to practice shooting. More crucial was the fact that the convoy wasn't equipped with any light-infantry cannons for defence. The enemy only managed to get two volleys out before the commanding officer giving orders from the side, probably a clansman, was shot dead by Berklin. Their troops collapsed in an instant, but they weren't able to escape the mounted scouts. In the end, more than 130 men dropped their weapons and were taken captive.

Currently, the Shiksan scouts, patrolmen, and convoy escorts Tribe 131 numbered close to 300. The light-cavalry clan wasn't the only unit that contributed to that number. The scouts the four other clans sent out also brought some captives back. Their combined assessment of the Shiksan colonial forces' combat ability was that it wasn't worth bringing up at all. Moriad said that Krado, that was besieging Brikaman, and Pancry, that was stationed outside Port Patres, were no different.

Claude decided to take Tribe 131 into Balingana first to deal with the forces threatening to take Brikaman. Though the enemy was besieging the city, their situation was far better than Brikaman's. Shiks wouldn't take the well-defended city by only relying on the weak forces of Pancry without waiting for more reinforcements.

Colonel Sevict had made it to Anfiston with Line 034 and was just in time to take over defence duties in the whole colony. Claude's tribe had set up firm foundations for that over the past month. Not only did he manage to get a grasp of the situation in Balingana and Robisto, he also managed to reform Anfiston's local garrison force and captured up to ten thousand nikancha, securing the first batch of the labour force they needed for their defence line's construction.

Apart from that, Claude also personally led units to scout out the borders of Anfiston, Balingana and Robisto and set up initial plans for the structure and location of the defence line. Colonel Sevict only had to follow the plans to be able to complete the objectives folk command gave them.

"When are you departing?" Sevict asked attentively. Compared to his task of building the defence line and training reserve forces, Tribe 131's next mission was far riskier. They had to infiltrate enemy territory to sabotage their supply points and cut off their supply and command routes, like a blade being driven deep into the heart of the enemy. They would pose a huge threat to them and buy enough time for the rest of Ranger folk to arrive.

Even though the Shiksan forces didn't seem as strong as they imagined, being so weak it wasn't worth bringing up, Claude's men still numbered too few -- less than two thousand. They were dancing on blades and could easily end up hurting themselves, given that they were up against two corps of more than 100 thousand troops.

"Two days later," Claude said, "I've ordered the various clans to gather at the mining town of Rosas. We'll set out from there."

Two days later, Claude entered the Balingana colony with Tribe 131.

At the same time, Colonel Sevict began construction of the defence line at the border with the nikancha labourers.

"Sir, what do we call this defence line?" Sevict's adjutant asked with the plans in hand. Defence lines like those had to be named for convenience of documentation, such as the approval of maintenance funds.

Sevict gave it some thought and said, "Since Lieutenant-Colonel Claude was the one who planned out and designed it, let it be called Claude Defence Line."

Chapter 341 - Night Attack! Night Attack!

"Sir, there's only one line stationed in Ferro. Their discipline is really bad and their officers don't even live in the camp. They're lodged in the residential area near the town hall, same goes for their colonel linesman. He lives in his mistress' home. Even though his troops stay in camp, they are getting wilder and wilder. Their security is non-existent," Moriad reported.

Ferro was the southmost town in Balingana and about a hundred kilometres from Anfiston. It used to have 17 thousand people, but barely 12 thousand stayed after the war broke out.

The people that remained were unwilling to give up on their businesses and livelihoods. Fortunately, Shiks' army followed the rule for all colonisers on Nubissia. Though they were at war, they didn't harm the peasants from Freia. Pillaging was unavoidable, however, so the people had nothing but bankruptcy in their future.

The reason Claude picked Ferro as his first target was simple: he needed a suitable temporary location for his tribe to set up camp and Ferro was the ideal place. If they took back the town, Tribe 131 could begin harassing the enemy forces' rear. The moment the enemy's main force came for them, Claude could use his tribe's mobility to pull back to Anfiston. Unless the enemy's main force set up camp in Ferro for good, Tribe 131 could just come back later and have another go.

"Let's move according to plan. Capture the officers first and force the soldiers to drop their weapons. Captain Berklin, your mission is most crucial. The light-cavalry clan must seal off all exits and prevent anyone from escaping," Claude instructed.

"Yes, Sir!"

Claude's officers all saluted.

Taking a town with only a tribe, even an enhanced tribe, was no easy task. Even more so against a larger force. However, the officers of Tribe 131 had a different perspective. They believed it would be a relaxing battle as they were an elite force faced with a ragtag group of fools.

Berklin put on a Shiksan uniform. They had quite a few of them from the prisoners they captured. They pretended to be a band of scouts and tried to gain entry to the town with the cover of resting mid-journey. The enemy sentries didn't even suspect them. It took them just a couple minutes to secure one of the entrances.

After that, one tent after another set out. It took just an hour for the entire perimeter of the town to fall. The cannoneer clan was deployed. They set up four light-infantry cannons at each exit.

It was about ten in the evening. Apart from the camp, the tavern, and few houses still lit, most of the townsfolk were asleep. The quiet was most convenient. Claude received one report of success after another. Most of the enemy officers had already been captured and his men were about to move on the camp.

Things never went according to plan, however, as Claude knew all too well. Crisp cracks rang out several minutes after the final report of initial success. Claude immediately knew they came from the tavern. He ordered his two reserve cannoneer bands to move on the camp immediately.

A couple minutes later shots were ringing out everywhere. Ferro bubbled like boiling oil in an instant. The worst of it came from the camp. Claude rushed there just in time to stop a retreat. He had the cannons fire scattershot into the camp the moment he arrived. Two volleys were fired into the entrance and it turned into a river. The enemy stopped firing back. Just moans sounded from the camp.

"Apologies, Sir, when we tried to apprehend the officers at the tavern, a couple of the more drunk ones tried to resist. We had no choice but to shoot all of them," Dyavid explained.

Claude didn't know what to make of the report. He knew drunk men didn't fear death. Earth had called it... Dutch courage. Yes, that was the phrase. The initial plan was for them to be threatened into surrender at gunpoint, but the drunk officers didn't care for the muskets pointed at their chests. They went for their own and started fighting back. They had been threatening to beat Dyavid's men back, so he ordered a volley. The fight ended there.

Claude waved his hand dismissively. He'd known it was a possible outcome. Fortunately, most of the enemy were trapped in the camp, and the capture of most of their officers meant they were nothing more than a disorganised rabble.

"Bring the captured linesman and officers to me. Have them order their men to surrender. If they refuse to comply, shoot them. If the soldiers don't surrender, bombard them with the cannons. Have the men guard the fence strictly. Shoot the moment a head pops out."

The enemy troops were trapped for about two hours before they surrendered. They didn't know how many enemies surrounded them and their merciless methods shocked them to the core. One officer who refused to call for his men's surrender and instead tried to encourage them to resist was shot in the head two words into his defiance. The bullet blasted a good half of his head away. The other officers cried for their men's surrender before the corpse had even hit the ground.

The soldiers in the camp tried to peek over the fence to get a grip on the situation, but were immediately shot. Given how dark everything outside the camp was, they couldn't see their enemies clearly either. Adding to the tension was the cannons at the camp entrance that fired from time to time; it sounded like there were eight of them at least. The occasional fist-sized cannonball would strike a few unfortunate fools that were standing away, causing their cries for help to reverberate throughout the entire camp.

The soldiers within lasted for around two hours before they broke down, dropped their weapons and walked out of the camp with their hands raised. Tribe 131 attacked Ferro and captured around 3300 enemies in one fell swoop. The enemy suffered around 500 casualties while Claude's tribe suffered a small seventeen.

The kingdom's citizens in Ferro had never imagined that reinforcements from the kingdom would come and even wipe out a whole line of enemies. They cheered for Tribe 131's success and gifted them with all sorts of supplies. Some of the youths eagerly came and volunteered for service. Claude ordered Schnak to form a garrison tribe to ensure his back was guarded and ordered Moriad's clan to transport all the captives back to Anfiston.

As not a single enemy had escaped, Claude's next target was the town of Jinkle. It was around 140 kilometres from Ferro, but only some 50 kilometres from the capital. Krado corps had encircled Brikaman for three months and their supply depot was in Jinkle.

Claude impersonated a Shiksan officer and entered Jinkle, only to discover that security there was really tight. The town was occupied by lines. They had chased all the townsfolk to the south of town. The north of the town was used as the depot. Many supply carriages left the depot, most headed for the capital. Dozens also poured into the town, bringing supplies from further north.

Claude tried to scout the depot before he left. This time around, he led a tent of light cavalrymen disguised as enemy patrol soldiers and rode northward along the convoy. He discovered that, some 15 kilometres north of Jinkle, Nubissia's largest river, Dorinibla, snaked through the landscape. The enemy had built two pontoon bridges in two calm spots. Each end of the bridges was protected by a small wooden fort and a small permanent garrison. Luckily, each garrison was only about a tribe.

Unfortunately, it was still too much for Claude to take with the men he had. If he had had another tribe, he could bait the enemy out and cut them down in the field. They could first attack the small wooden forts and draw them towards Jinkle. They might even be able to draw Jinkle's garrison into the fight. After all, the enemy couldn't afford to leave the floating bridges unattended. As there were two lines of troops in town, they would send one out to reinforce their forces at the floating bridges, and Claude would be able to defeat them with Tribe 131.

If he had another tribe, he could occupy Jinkle even if he had to sustain some casualties. The town was the linchpin of the siege. If he took it, the siege would have to be broken, and quickly.

Claude didn't really mind Krado. They were an infantry corps so they stood no chance of catching him as long as he knew they were coming. They had two lines of cavalry, but he could deal with them easily. He'd already taken out two thousand cavalry, killed and captured, so they had at most one of the lines left.

Naturally, Krado was aware of his presence in the colony by now. Claude couldn't see a way they had not realised something was up after losing half their cavalry. They didn't, however, know the exact number of his men as almost none of the scouts that had encountered his men had returned. The few that had, could only report vague details of being beaten back by enemy scouts.

As such, Krado could only increase the garrisons along their supply lines and warn the rest of their forces in the colony to keep careful watch. The rest was up to fate, as they were presented with the harsh reality that the enemy's light cavalry was far superior to their own. Sending out scouts now was akin to sending them to their deaths. Nobody knew whether they'd make it back.

Claude began turning his sights on the two floating bridges. The officers of Tribe 131 also believe that it would be better to cut off the floating bridges and disrupt Krado's supply line. After much consideration, Claude decided to adopt their viewpoint to burn the bridges first before attacking any reinforcements coming from Jinkle. They would watch for any opportunity to break into the town following that to burn the supplies stored there as well.

Four days later during the night, Tribe 131 mounted a surprise attack on the security camps near the floating bridges. Even though the enemy fiercely resisted, their campsite was soon breached and they suffered heavy casualties. In the end, around three hundred of their men surrendered.

Claude had his men set fire to the floating bridges. He believed that the forces in Jinkle would definitely send reinforcements immediately. Claude also needed some time to build his defence with what he had in the security camps so that he could heavily cripple the enemy reinforcements before setting off with their horses once again.

The first enemy unit to arrive was a tribe of cavalrymen. Their horses, however, were normal workhorses and they came with tens of carriages filled with soldiers. As the bridges were burning, the enemy charged headfirst into the security camps carelessly and ended up surrounded by Tribe 131.

The ambushed enemies reacted rather quickly and the results of their training were apparent. In fact, they almost seemed elite. They quickly got off the carriages and dismounted. The officers had their men line up to start volley firing. It was too bad their ranks crumbled after only two volleys, as they couldn't see where their enemies were and could only hear gunshots ring around them before their comrades fell in tandem with the shots. Their commanding officers also were shot.

With the commanding officers' whistle signals absent, the enemy troops actually fared a little better. Some of them automatically hid behind the carriages and lay flat behind the carcasses of their mounts and fired blindly at wherever they saw muzzle flashes, dealing slightly heavier casualties to the careless Tribe 131.

However, that was soon put to an end by the cannoneer clan's scattershot. Only four shots were required to get the enemy to surrender. The ambush lasted for around half an hour and Tribe 131 suffered around 60 casualties, whereas the enemy had more than three hundred casualties and six hundred captured. The tribe also obtained the carriages and the surviving workhorses as spoils.

Claude heard from the mouths of the captives that another line of reinforcements was on the way from Jinkle. They would require a little more time to arrive as they were travelling on foot. When he was told the enemy reinforcements were coming without bringing cannons, he decided to lay another ambush for them. He was confident he could keep the security camps defended with his cannons.

Much to his surprise, however, the rest of the troops didn't arrive even after an hour of waiting. After sending out some scouts, he found that the enemy had holed up in Jinkle. Claude was quite disappointed and reasoned that the enemy were probably clued in by the sound of cannon fire. They probably knew that even if they could make it to the floating bridges, they wouldn't be able to save them and might even end up giving their lives, so they chose to retreat back into Jinkle.

Chapter 342 - Operation Burn

Meanwhile in Balingana on Nubissia...

On the 7th of the 11th, Year 584, Claude reclaimed Ferro by massacring the entire garrison.

On the 15th, he led his tribe in a night attack on the Shiksan forts on the banks of Dorinibla and burned two pontoon bridges, cutting the corps' main supply route. He took out the tribe guarding the forts, then ambushed and massacred another tribe sent to reinforce them.

Claude let his morale-filled soldiers attack Krado's supply base in the town of Jinkle on the night of the 19th and attempted to burn their supply stores. This assault was not as successful. The enemy had been preparing. The battle raged for eight hours. When Krado's main force marched on the town to reinforce it, Claude had to withdraw.

While the operation wasn't a complete success, they still dealt a heavy blow to the defenders. The defenders lost a whole line and most of their fortifications had been reduced to rubble. Five of their warehouses were now ash as well. The attack tied down two more lines which had to be moved in to help with reconstructing the defences.

Claude felt no joy for what they had achieved. He did not consider the loss of 352 men for a temporary gain a success. Not to mention the severe injury his dear friend and subordinate, Dyavid, had suffered. He'd only just barely survived this far, and he might yet turn for the grave.

War was the greatest teacher, and Claude had to admit he had been a slow learner. He'd underestimated his enemy because he'd gotten two easy victories. The enemy was no fool, however. They'd taken a while to figure out what was going on, but had reacted with frightening speed and precision once they had.

Claude had reflected on the battle and discovered several stupid mistakes. He'd given his men too much leeway after they broke through the first line of defence. Their enthusiasm had taken over as a result, and they'd over-extended.

They had not expected the enemy to concentrate most of their firepower in their final line. There were only a few cannons in the first three lines. The rest were hidden in houses along chokepoints.

The troops that managed to breach the third line all thought it was all the enemy had to throw at them. After they shot at the more obvious platforms in the fourth line, they charged. They were completely caught off guard by the hidden cannons. They'd been turned into paste and crimson mist just as Claude had done to so many enemies. Dyavid had gone down in the first volley.

They mounted several similar attacks elsewhere, with similar ends. There were no weak points to exploit, no shortcuts to take. They could only grind at the enemy until something gave way.

Fortunately, the men were well trained and understood they shouldn't bunch up. Most of the men were caught by the edge of the cone of death, and survived. But as their casualties grew, almost all the troops went into a frenzy. Even when Claude gave the order to retreat when he heard enemy reinforcements were almost there, many soldiers hoped to hold on for a little longer to make one last-ditch effort.

The sacrificed soldiers were all cremated while the injured were sent to Anfiston. After Claude reflected on his errors, he put himself back together. His takeaway was to never attack a heavily defended area unless he had either absolutely no alternative, or had a way to cut through with minimal casualties.

Nubissia's weather was some degrees warmer than Freia's. It hadn't begun to snow even though the 12th month was just around the corner. The weather did cool down a bit, however; the breeze often brought chills. Scouts had to be careful not to return with frozen extremities.

"Krado has lightened the siege on Brikaman, most likely because of the supply problems we caused. They don't lack ammunition or food, but I don't think their winter uniforms made it through before our attacks. I also have several reports that they have started slaughtering every animal they can find, especially sheep.

"They've stationed a line by the ruined pontoon bridges and surrounded the wooden forts with more trenches and an additional layer of walls. We also spotted between four and six barges patrolling the river. I suspect they'll start work on the bridges soon."

Their dreams of repairing the bridges would stay just that as long as Claude had a say.

Claude would never allow Krado to restore their supply lines. Winter was almost on hand and the weather was cooling. The enemy wouldn't starve and they wouldn't run out of ammunition, but without clothing he could whittle their numbers down significantly without firing a single shot. At the very least he'd trap them in their camps and forts until spring.

The need to build shelter for the winter would also force them to send parties out to cut down trees -- soft, sweet targets for a raiding force such as Tribe 131. Claude had had Moriad take three bands and harassed the parties already. It had been very successful in tying down even more men, as the enemy quickly dispatched a line to guard the parties. The guards were then baited into traps with mock assaults and ambushes that had whittled them down significantly.

Corpses streamed into their camps by the dozen every day. In less than a month they'd be short a thousand men. Save for the pontoon bridges, Claude had the entire winter to do his work. His only job was to keep Belingana's capital in friendly hands until his reinforcements arrived, every kill he got doing so was just a bonus.

Myjack stepped into the room.

"Sir, there are more than a hundred townsfolk refusing to leave with us. We also noticed some have close relations to the Shiksan officers. They probably have many young women in their households who are the officers' mistresses. I believe the enemy has noticed our attempts to encourage the townsfolk to move away and have begun to strengthen their defences."

Claude nodded.

"Forget it, then. There's no need to care of their livelihoods if they won't listen. Since there's proof of their treasonous behaviour to the kingdom, there's no need to worry about their safety."

Claude had Myjack encourage the townsfolk who hadn't left to leave for Ferro or the colonies to the rear. Since their attack was supposed to be tougher and more savage than before, it would be best for the civies to leave town.

There were still around three thousand in Jinkle after the latest round of encouragement, around five hundred households. Since war broke out, half of them escaped to Brikaman, the colony's capital, and the other half left for the other colonies where their friends and relatives were. Some left after Krado occupied the town. So far, the ones who stayed behind were those with fixed assets that would be rendered to nothing if they left.

It wasn't that Claude was really going to mount an attack. He was just worried that Krado would target the townsfolk when winter fell due to their lack of winter clothing, thereby causing them harm.

Unlike the tightly defended north part of town, the residential area the townsfolk resided in was far easier to infiltrate. The past two times Myjack went there was to advise them to leave, but after that, he got those of repute in town to be his spokesperson. The reason for that was some moles in town discovered his presence and notified the garrison forces in town about it. The enemy sent a tent of men to camp at the house of the whistleblower in anticipation of Myjack only to waste two whole days waiting.

Before getting the townsfolk to leave, Claude instructed his men to not get into a firefight with the enemy in that part of town to prevent accidentally harming them and drawing their ire to himself. Even though war on Nubissia was fought based on the unwritten rule of not harming the free citizens, there was nothing one could do about angered enemy soldiers taking out their frustrations on civilians aside from revenge.

Snow usually fell on Nubissia from the end of the 12th month to the end of the 1st month. Those days were said to be the coldest. The rainy season during the 3rd month didn't last as long as Freia's, being around ten-odd days only, and the rainfall wasn't as heavy either. But there was another half a month of rainy season from the middle of the 6th month all the way to the beginning of the 7th. That was when the rainfall was the highest.

Since the townsfolk that wanted to leave had done so, Claude no longer cared about those that remained and sided with the Shiksans. He thought for a moment and told Myjack, "Then, let's roast them alive."

Roasting required fire, and Claude wanted to burn down the south part of town where the residential area was located. That way, the enemy wouldn't be able to use the houses of the civilians for wood to stave off the cold.

Claude also wanted to try his chance at burning down their supply warehouses as well. If it worked and burned down the north part of town, then Krado, without their ammunition and supplies and winter clothing, would be fish on the cutting board. Claude could cut them open however he liked.

At ten during the night of the 27th of the 11th month, Myjack took Gum and a band of guards with him to sneak into the southern part of town. They scattered fuel all over the houses of the residents who left and set fire to the place.

Claude had the rest of Tribe 131 waiting in ambush near the north. He hoped that the fire would spread there and cause chaos among the defenders while also burning down the supply warehouses to force them to leave town. That way, Tribe 131 would be able to launch a fatal blow on them.

It was too bad that Claude's plan fell flat. Jinkle was located in the area between Albator Plains and Dorinibla River. The townsfolk used mostly rock and sand for their houses due to their better defensive properties. It was said that when the first-generation immigrants built their town there, there were many wild beasts and wolf packs in the vicinity. So, that was a factor they had to take into account.

As a result, the houses didn't burn that bright. The embers only licked at the windows and roofs instead of burning down whole buildings as if they were made entirely of wood. The stone walls were annoyingly fireproof. Had he not sprinkled them with oil, the fire might not even pick up.

As the fire grew, the residents who refused to heed their advice fared far worse than those who did. They were startled awake from their dreams and rushed to escape their burning houses and the residential area. Even though every building in the residential area was lit, the enemy forces situated at the north of town reacted quite quickly. Soldiers swarmed on the streets and tore down nearby houses to prevent the fire from spreading by making a wide and empty zone separating the residential sector. They also passed buckets of water nonstop to douse the remaining buildings that burned.

Claude's tribe could only lie flat on the ground and watch as the fires in the south of town were gradually put out. What Claude found even more agonising was the fact that the northward wind only came after the fires were mostly extinguished. If it had come two hours earlier, they could've brought the fire to the north part of town. The enemy wouldn't have been able to fireproof the place in time. All it would take was for a few warehouses to start burning and all would go according to plan.

"Let's return to camp. There's nothing else to see here." Claude shook his head and turned to Berklin. "Go to the riverbank tomorrow and see if there's a good crossing point elsewhere."

"Sir, you intend to cross the river?" Berklin asked.

"Yes. Didn't you report there being a line of garrison soldiers at the security camp on the other bank? Since it's heavily defended, we won't be able to surprise attack them like last time. Since the defences here in town are tight too, we might as well cross the river and see. At the very least, the enemy believes we won't be able to cross Dorinibla River, so the bank would only be lightly patrolled. If we can't take this place out, we can try going for their other security camp there and burn the building material they piled up. Regardless of what happens, the results will be the same. They wouldn't be able to repair their floating bridges."

Chapter 343 - Push and Pull

The river water was bone-chillingly cold. It would be impossible to cross the river during such a season.

Being the largest river in Nubissia, Dorinibla River was incredibly wide.

After spending two days' time, Berklin only managed to find a spot some ten kilometres upstream the enemy's security camp where the river water was slower and seemed easy to cross. However, the other side of the river seemed to be around a kilometre apart. Nobody knew how long it would take for one to be able to make it to the other side. Additionally, there was no boat or fishing folk nearby. They would have to prepare their own vessels with which to cross the river.

Claude asked the civilians in Ferro about it and some residents who came from Jinkle told him that the enemy's security camp and two floating bridges weren't constructed by them. They had been there all along and used to be the only place from which the river could be crossed in Balingana. The reason the floating bridge was constructed there in the first place was that the river was most narrow at that part, being about 600 metres wide, and the flow of the water was gentle and wouldn't affect the floating bridge much.

That place used to be where the ferry docked. However, each ferry trip took at least an hour. Eventually, some wild-bull merchants decided to gather a sum of a thousand gold crowns to build a floating bridge to make it more convenient for the bull carcasses to be transported to the other side. Not long after the bridge was fully constructed, the Shiksan troops came and crossed the bridge to attack Jinkle before heading on to Brikaman.

It was no wonder the floating bridge across Dorinibla River wasn't marked in any of the kingdom's maps. They only specified a ferry station there and Claude had thought that the enemies were the ones who built the bridge. While knowing how it came about well and good, the problem of how Tribe 131 could cross the river still remained.

An old man from Jinkle suggested that they use wooden goatskin rafts. The goatskin didn't mean that the rafts were wrapped entirely with them. Instead, they were goatskin floats the size of basketballs suspended at the bottom of rafts to provide buoyancy. Each raft was about six square metres wide and required around 25 of those goatskin floats and could allow ten adult men to cross the river at once.

The old man said that when the first settlers arrived, they used such goatskin rafts to go hunting wild bulls on Albator Plains and started the bull industry Balingana was famous for. As the industry developed, the kingdom decided to colonise Balingana properly.

But when the ferries came, goatskin rafts were relegated to history. Now that the ferry dock was in the hands of the enemy, Claude had to try to use goatskin rafts to make his crossing. Making them was rather simple as the materials were available and didn't need to be processed, but the old man did mention on flaw they had: they were slow and not really balanced.

The support band of Tribe 131 finally had a place to shine. The carpenters and leathersmiths soon made prototypes of the rafts according to the old man's descriptions and made incremental improvements to them. Claude also personally participated in the testing of the rafts at Dorinibla River. He found that they could work and ordered even more of them to be made. They would cross the river in one go to accomplish their surprise attack.

On the 9th of the 12th month of Year 584, Claude took two clans of men across Dorinibla River using goatskin rafts.

The reason he only took two clans of men with him to attack the enemy camp was the reports he received from Berklin, who was sent across in advance to scout the area out. The enemy's security near the floating bridges was really lax; there was less than a tribe of men there. The camp was also packed full of supplies and materials for the repair of the bridges waiting to be shipped across. While Claude wasn't completely confident he could take the entire camp, he was certain he could burn the whole place down, so two clans of men were enough.

Additionally, the two clans of Tribe 131 that remained had to set up a defence line on the other side of the bank to prevent the enemy from conquering the crossing point Claude and the others used after seeing the fire break out. Should that come to pass, it would be over for them and they wouldn't be able to make it back. Additionally, they couldn't bring their mounts across the river, so without their mobility and logistics support, they would be waiting for their demise.

The crossing point of the river was upstream some 17 kilometres away from the floating bridges and security camp. Claude and the rest spent a whole morning to cross the river. They would march on after a short rest. At six in the evening, they finally reached the spot a kilometre away from the enemy camp, found a spot, and began their rest. They would start their operation at ten at night so as to approach the enemy camp without making a sound.

As Berklin had described, the enemy's security truly was lax. The lookouts at the entrance of the camp were snoring away while hugging their muskets and no soldier could be seen on duty atop the lookout towers nearby. The bonfires some 20 metres away from the camp weren't even lit, making it extremely easy for Claude and his men to make their way to the camp.

He pointed at the lookouts at the camp entrance and made a cutthroat gesture. Myjack nodded and took Gum with him, speeding towards the lookouts. Soon, the sleeping guards could be seen slowly being laid down to the ground from the illumination of the moonlight and the fires from within the camp. Myjack pushed the entrance gate and poked his head in for a look before waving for Claude to come.

They would first begin their slaughter silently. There were many sleeping enemy soldiers within the camp who would never again wake up to the light of day. But soon, some of them realised their camp was under attack. Gunshots, cries and shrieks rang throughout as a commotion brewed within.

"Let there be fire," Claude ordered.

One burning torch after another was thrown into the tents, warehouses, stables, and straw piles. Light and smoke rose towards the sky. The commanding officers of the enemy rushed out of their tents and blew their whistles.

"Don't panic! Regroup around us!"

Right after that, a gunshot from the darkness rang out. Soon, the brave and responsible officers were felled one after another and the soldiers that gathered scattered in all directions like aimless flies as they cried out in panic, further adding to the atmosphere of terror.

Claude ordered his men to ignore the soldiers that escaped the camp. Their orders were to eliminate all enemies that resisted in the camp and burn anything that could be burnt. The attack progressed much faster than Claude expected and the enemy didn't seem intent in the slightest to regroup and resist. The only more dangerous moment was when an officer led ten-odd of his men to bring out a light-infantry cannon out of nowhere to establish a simple defence line.

It was too bad that before the cannon could be loaded, the attackers found out about their intentions. Needless to say, the officers and the soldiers around him fell off their horses following each bang. They lost their chance to turn the situation around.

Claude came to the riverbank near the camp. Two long floating bridges that stretched to the other side were before him. There were also four ships docked at the bank filled with wood and rope. The gunshots at the rear of the camp had stopped and the enemies that remained had probably fled the burning camp. As the fire grew, one thing was for certain. Claude and his men would no longer be able to return to the other side using the route from which they had come.

"Gather your units and make a headcount. Myjack, scatter oil over the wood piled up near the floating bridge and burn them. Captain Moriad, Captain Andruk, bring your men aboard the ferries and unload all the wood onto the floating bridges or the shore. We'll leave here by ferry," Claude ordered immediately.

Those on the other side of the river had noticed the fire and many people gathered at the riverbank. With the light the fire gave off, they were able to see the sight of Claude and the other attackers throwing torches all over the place clearly. The floating bridges and the woodpiles started to burn. The fire quickly spread to the surrounding areas.

As the camp burnt down, the four ferries could be seen sailing upstream. The embers that rose from the fire occasionally fell into the river water around the ferries and let out sizzles. From time to time, explosions could be heard from the camp, probably due to exploding gunpowder.

"Push harder!" Gum yelled, instructing the soldiers with the punt poles to push the ferries away from the burning shores. It was a bad time to raise the sails as they could be easily set alight. "Those at the side, quick, start rowing using the wooden boards! Those without boards, get buckets and douse water on the deck and cabin! Move faster!"

The wind from the other bank brought with it the curses of the enemy.

Myjack quietly approached Claude and said, "Sir, I think the enemy will easily discover our crossing point if we go straight there like this..."

"No worries. We've already destroyed their camp and ruined their plans to repair the floating bridges. It's no big deal even if they know where we crossed from. Don't forget that the enemy soldiers on the other bank are infantry troops. They would take at least four hours to make it to our crossing point 17 kilometres away. Additionally, we had Major Schnak and two clans of men set up a defence line there. The enemy wouldn't be able to breach that easily."

Claude pointed upstream and continued, "Now, we're heading to where we crossed to burn down the goatskin rafts. We'll cross the river with these ferries. We'll get there far quicker than the enemy infantry can and by the time we get on shore, the enemy wouldn't be able to do much against us. We shall see how they plan to survive the winter after this..."

The enemy soldiers on the opposite bank actually sent out two tribes of soldiers to tail the ferries and find where Tribe 131's crossing point was. However, they were really slow and only arrived when it was nearly dawn, only to be ambushed by Scnhak's two clans of men. The enemy left behind a whole clan's worth of corpses and injured thanks to the bombardment of 18 light-infantry cannons and left without being able to fire a single shot.

When Claude got on shore with the men he took, Schnak gladly reported the results of the ambush to him. However, Claude was a little dissatisfied. "You should've ordered them to pursue on horse the moment the enemy began their retreat. Think about it. There's a stretch of 17 kilometres from here to their base. The troops they've sent out are infantry and they've been marching for the whole month only to be ambushed by you. Even if they managed to escape, they'd be filled with terror and incredibly fatigued. If you send out our men to pursue them on horseback, I doubt a single one of them would be able to return to camp."

Major Schnak was filled with regret, but Claude didn't think what he said would help much. He understood the major well. He was someone capable enough to handle most of the tasks delegated to him, but he lacked the ability to make adaptations on the fly. He was quite a stickler for the rules and it was already commendable enough for him to defend the crossing point properly.

On the 15th of the 12th month, Claude set up an ambush and sent Berklin's cavalry clan to attack the supply convoy of Krado that was still at Brikaman. They baited the only cavalry line Krado had remaining to chase them.

An hour or so later, the enemy cavalry was successfully led into a trap. The battle lasted for about two hours and only a small number of enemies managed to break out of the encirclement. Since then, the enemy had completely lost the ability to resist the highly mobile Tribe 131 and could do nought but stay cooped up behind their defences in Jinkle, watching as Claude's men roamed freely outside.

As the 40-plus-kilometre supply route had been cut off by Tribe 131, the soldiers at Brikaman had run out of ammunition and food and were no longer able to continue their siege. They were forced to retreat back into Jinkle. Brikaman, Balingana's capital, had been rescued!

The resolution of the crisis at Brikaman was like a shot of motivation for Tribe 131. They had managed to enter Balingana and take on a whole enemy corps with only a tribe's worth of men. Using rapid tactics, Claude managed to lead them and forced Krado, who had been besieging Brikaman for the past five months, to retreat. It was a wartime miracle.

Even the viceroy and high-commissioner of Balingana couldn't bring themselves to believe that Tribe 131 was really a tribe. However, Claude didn't bother to waste his time explaining it to them and only said that he hoped that they could let the Aueran civilians and the injured soldiers inside the city to retreat first. In the meantime, they should also restock on the city's supplies while they still could.

By that time, snow had already begun to fall and the temperature tanked. It was just as the Aueran settlers mentioned. While the period of snow on Nubissia was shorter than it was on Freia, it was far colder.

Claude hoped to chip away at Krado's will to fight by depriving them of winter clothing. By the time winter was over, the rest of Ranger would arrive and they could wipe out Krado once and for all.

What Claude and the rest of the soldiers in his tribe didn't expect was that on the 26th of the 12th month, some enemy ships would actually dock at the ferry dock by the river. There were three class-one triple-sail warships and six long-distance transport ships. After they docked, they began unloading loads of supplies.

Claude could only watch it bitterly. Even though the enemy lost their floating bridges, they could still rely on their ships to resupply. Claude's plan to eliminate Krado had once more been thwarted.

The enemy ships didn't only bring with them supplies. They also came with a line of escort soldiers that prevented Claude's tribe from taking them out. He could only watch as the enemy marched in broad daylight with large amounts of supplies into Jinkle.

After being resupplied, the three warships sailed along the river to the part of the bank near Brikaman and bombarded the city with their cannons for a whole day, breaking apart much of the walls facing the river, before sailing back to sea.

Chapter 344 - Burning Mordo

Claude moved into Robisto after new years. He had no choice. Krado was turtled in Balingana and their ships would soon bring them the winter gear they needed. He'd tried everything he could, but they just would not budge from Jinkle.

He could not move against them directly, however. He just didn't have either the manpower or the firepower. He thus moved into Robisto to do as much damage as he could while he didn't have to worry about an entire corps barrelling down on him. He did leave a clan to keep an eye on them, however.

Robisto had suffered less than Balingana, thanks to Port Patres having among the best fortifications in all of the colonies. Fearless also had a permanent presence in the waters off the coast as their regional HQ was in the city. The kingdom had spared no expense in fortifying its strategic settlements during the war because of the pirate and naval threats.

It had worked as well. Not one pirate had dared test their mettle against the city thus far. The only fight the city had ever had was with a Shiksan corps shortly after they'd burst into open hostilities. Pancry, the unfortunate corps in question, had been forced to withdraw from the city's immediate vicinity after several failed assaults which had left the attackers all but crippled and combat ineffective.

Despite their crippling losses, they still stood equal in size to Patres' garrison, so though they could not attack anything beyond their own fortifications, Patres' forces could not push them off theirs either. They could at least still make a substantial nuisance of themselves, however.  Their scout units, still largely intact -- which was a rare thing to be able to say at the moment -- regularly raided villages within a day or two's ride from their encampment. They even occasionally dared a soiree into Balingana; that had stopped once Claude had shown up.

Since Claude's departure from the colony, however, Anfiston's miraculous ability to kill everything that moved, went with him, and the scouts had slowly started testing the waters again. They could still not cross into Balingana, however, as Sevict had Ranger Line 034 close off the border.

Their little excursions suffered again with Claude's return. Some even left wills before each of their outings. It took them a clan of men, but after several weeks of suicide missions, they finally discovered Tribe 131's base: Mordo.

Mordo was a modest town on the banks of its namesake stream, a tributary of Dorinibla. It started in the Mosraka Mountain Range that separated Anfiston and Balingana. Most of its inhabitants were either farmers or lumberjacks. Between the town and the surrounding hovels, ten thousand people called the place home, a full 1300 households. In the broader region, some 70 thousand mix-bloods worked as labourers. The town was 150 kilometres from Patres as the carriage waddled.

The town's garrison was a full tribe. They should have been in Patres, but they were cut off from the capital before they could depart. They had set out, of course, unaware of that fact, and had suffered several significant defeats before giving up on making it to the city and pulling back to the town. Their separation turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as it forced Pancry to split its attention and forces, which had thus far contributed no small bit to keeping both unoccupied.

Pancry had heard there was only one light-cavalry tribe in the enemy's reinforcements. Tribe 131 was assumed to be a light-cavalry tribe due to their mounts. Added to the tribe of garrisoneers in Mordo, they would be only two tribes. Hence, Pancry decided to get rid of the troublesome town since there wasn't much they could do against Port Patres currently. It would be better to wipe Tribe 131 out first so that they would no longer cause so much trouble to their scouts.

In that sense, Pancry was far braver than Krado. They at least took the initiative to make a move.

Pancry sent out a light-cavalry and an infantry line to Mordo. Perhaps they thought having four times the enemy's numbers was more than enough to wipe out Tribe 131 and the town's garrison tribe.

After five days of travelling through the snow to Mordo, the two lines from Pancry noticed that they were a step late. Apart from the rampant nikancha people causing chaos happily, not a single trace of an Aueran civilian or soldier could be seen. After capturing a few of the natives and asking them about it, they found that the enemy had found out about the two lines being sent there. They retreated to the town of Rockbear some 80 kilometres away.

Rockbear was another town that had yet to fall to Pancry. It was located between Anfiston and Robisto somewhere along the foot of Mosraka Mountains. The town was famous for a gigantic rock in the rough shape of a bear and was named after it. Rockbear produced a few kinds of valuable ore and rock that were used to decorate high-class statues.

After finding out that the Auerans had left Mordo, the wooden houses and wood-processing plants in town became the party grounds for the nikancha. They lived into them without permission and the two lines of Pancry had to chase them out of town and back into their ghettos before settling down in the town themselves.

There were tons of firewood stacked up in each of the buildings, mostly used by the former residents as fuel through winter. Even the streets were full of broken furniture and sawdust. The soldiers of Pancry thought that the mess was caused by the unruly nikancha people. They couldn't be bothered to clean the place up after their long and tiring march and decided to rest well in the middle of the residential sector first.

The two lines of troops were so tired that they casually scheduled their patrols before going to sleep. They were quite disappointed their enemy left so early. Rockbear was around 80 kilometres away and it would take the lines of Pancry around three days of non-stop travel on snow-covered roads to reach it. So, it was decided they rest well before continuing their journey. They didn't make the slightest preparation and believed no enemy would dare to attack them, given their superior numbers.

Around ten during the night, the lookouts and patrol soldiers were assailed. The broken furniture and chunks of wood and sawdust on the streets began to burn. Soon, the buildings and wood processing plants around the outer areas of the town began burning. The fires spread inward the town gradually and by the time the soldiers in the residential sector woke up, they were completely surrounded by fire and unable to escape.

The gunshots were the loudest and most frequent around the stable south of town. Pancry's light-cavalry line's mounts and their infantry line's cannons and supply carriages were all situated there, and that was where Tribe 131 made their strike. Claude wanted to take the war horses and workhorses as his spoils.

It didn't take long before the cavalrymen noticed Claude's intentions. They gathered a large number of troops outside the stable and got into a heated battle with Tribe 131, but they had little time to respond to the sudden attack and were ill-prepared. They sent out however many men they had to dash inside the stables to retrieve their mounts.

However, their efforts and sacrifice were all rendered void by Tribe 131's four light-infantry cannons. No soldier was able to make it there as the scattershot covered both entrances of the stable. The ones that tried only perished. They could only watch as Tribe 131 broke through the walls of the stables to take the surviving horses away before setting them on fire too.

The fires around the outer areas of town burned even fiercer. More and more houses in the residential area lit up. Pancry's officers and soldiers only just realised that the buildings were doused with fuel beforehand. The chunks of wood and broken furniture on the streets were no exception. The slightest ember was enough to set a large pile of wood alight, trapping them in the middle of town without any avenue of escape. Their shrieks and cries for help reverberated throughout.

Fortunately, it soon began to snow and the fire was held back a little as a result. Some sharp-witted men began trying to save themselves. They used all manners of tools to move the fallen snow onto the fires burning away at the buildings and after much effort, they made a route that led to the outside of town. Just as they were cheering about being able to leave the burning town, the rangers were waiting outside for them with their tens of cannons and muskets.

Half the men there raised both hands and surrendered. Even the reckless officers had to calm down and give in, as most of their supplies and ammunition had become sacrificed to the god of the pyre. Less than a third of the soldiers were armed and most of them weren't even donned in thick clothing, seeing as they had run out the moment there was a fire.

Mordo burned for another night and day and the last embers were only put out after heavy snowfall during the afternoon. The whole town had been turned into rubble. Only the western end of town where the nikancha ghetto was, was still intact. The ghetto had been a few hundred metres from town in the first place outside its walls. That was to prevent a possible uprising by them but that ironically spared their homes from the fire.

The actual Pancry soldiers injured or killed by the fire numbered far fewer than the casualties suffered at the stables south of town, but the fire did destroy most of the cannons, weapons and supplies the two lines of men brought with them. Even their mounts had been acquired by Tribe 131. The soldiers and officers of Pancry that managed to escape the fire had no choice but to surrender to survive. There was no way they could survive the five-day march back to their main camp.

The burning of Mordo concluded with Tribe 131 exterminating two lines of Pancry and capturing more than eight thousand prisoners. It was a harsh blow to the Shiksan corps and something they couldn't imagine even in their wildest dreams. Two lines of troops left and didn't return, not even sending any word back. It was not only after a few fortunate scouts that managed to circumvent the perimeter set up by Tribe 131 and saw the burnt remains of the town and getting confirmation from the nikancha people that they were made aware of the two lines' demise.

As a result, Pancry wisened up and learned from Krado, withdrawing into their camps and insisting on not leaving. They would only decide what they should do after winter passed and their reinforcements and supplies came.

Claude could do naught but lead Tribe 131 back to Anfiston to rest for winter. From the 10th month of the previous year to the 1st month of the new year, Tribe 131 stormed through colonies and suffered quite a number of casualties through their subsequent battles. There were only around 1100 men of the original 1800 who were still in fighting condition.

The 2nd month was a slow month in Robisto and Balingana. The enemies remained turtled up in their respective campsites and Claude didn't do much other than send Berklin's clan to monitor Pancry and Krado. The reports he got were always the same. The enemy kept to themselves without leaving camp.

After the rainy season during the 3rd month, a large naval fleet arrived from Shiks. Pancry got a folk of reinforcements and Krado got two lines of infantry. Additionally, the warships that came along with the fleet began to bombard Port Patres once more. But this time around, their luck didn't fare well and one of their warships was sunk. They could only leave with the fleet with their tails between their legs.

The reinforced Pancry and Krado began their attacks anew on Brikaman and Port Patres respectively. Robisto and Balingana were once more bathed in the flames of war. Claude led his tribe back to those two colonies but the enemy was prepared for them. They guarded their supply convoys heavily with one line of forces at all times. Apart from being able to eliminate some enemy scouts, Tribe 131 wasn't able to achieve much.

But at the start of the 4th month, Claude finally received good news. The rest of Ranger folk had safely arrived in Anfiston. General Miselk summoned him back to folk headquarters.

Chapter 345 - Siblings' Arrival

You performed amazingly well, far beyond our expectations," General Miselk, the folksman of Ranger, said.

He and a few other high-ranked officers welcomed Claude's arrival at folk headquarters.

"On account of your contributions to the kingdom, I hereby promote you to colonel as the highest-ranking officer in the folk. Congratulations, Colonel Claude. You are the youngest soldier to be made colonel in the kingdom's history."

Everyone broke into thunderous applause. Nobody objected. The results Tribe 131 achieved in Balingana and Robisto were breathtaking. Other things aside, the 15 thousand Shiksan captives working as labourers on the Claude Defence Line was incredible. Tribe 131 consisted of just 1800 men and they captured almost ten times their number.

Miselk personally switched Claude's shoulder mark for one with three silver moons and told him more good news. First, all of his men would be promoted one rank. Second, the tribe would be expanded to a full line, specifically, a special independent line. Their new name was Line 131.

The final piece of good news was personal. Due to the tribe's amazing achievements, General Miselk had personally guaranteed Claude's character in a request for his promotion to full noble. If things went well, Claude would be made a baron. Naturally, it wouldn't be a hereditary Title. Only Claude could bear it.

The kingdom gave out three kinds of Titles, the first was hereditary, the hardest to obtain. The royal family would give a manor to the recipient. It and all revenue it generated was exempt from taxes.

The second was a trigenerational Title. It could be passed down for three generations as is. There after it weakened one rank every generation until it dissolved. A third and final generation count's heir would be a viscount, their heir would be a baron, and thereafter the title would dissolve. The next heir would be a mere dignitarian, and their offspring mere peasants again.

Usually, recipients of trigenerational Titles would also be given manors which were tax exempt for the three guaranteed generations of the Title. Thereafter it and all revenue from it would be taxed. One could always sell the title back to the royal family, of course, a path many took.

The last was a mere honorary Title. A solitary title granted to the holder only. It could not be passed to anyone and died with the recipient. Miselk's viscountcy was such a title. His children were dignitarians from birth and would be for the rest of their lives barring any serious crimes on their part, but that was the extent of their benefits.

Honorary Titles did not come with manors, though the recipient did get an annual stipend. If Claude was made an honorary baron, he would receive an annual stipend of 100 crowns until his death. His wife would be 'baroness' by association, and any businesses under Claude's household would enjoy tax cuts and exemptions.

Hereditary and trigenerational Titles had only been granted during the kingdom's founding and its restoration during Stellin IX's reign. It had happened only most rarely otherwise. During the kingdom's founding, all nobles were also given fiefs, and that proved quite problematic several centuries later.

The nobles' power was stripped almost completely during the Restoration War. It was all given to the king. The changes included a complete reformation of the Title system. Stellin IX handed out hereditary and trigenerational Titles to his subjects with high achievements to set the new standard. Nobles would no longer be given domains over which they were sovereign. They were instead granted small plots of land no greater than manor, hence their name, and they would be exceedingly rare.

Claude's late father and his associates wanted to discover a new trade route to be given one of those rare titles. Morssen wanted to elevate the Ferd family to nobility, to put them in the small noble circles in the three sister prefectures. It was a shame he had taken the wrong step so near the finish line. Claude had now fulfilled his dream in his stead, however. Given his knighthood, which made him a quasi-noble, it was almost certain he would be given a baron Title.

Miselk started the war council immediately after finishing Claude's promotion. Ranger had safely landed in Anfiston and the first batch of reinforcements had done a great job achieving their objectives. Claude's tribe's performance aside, Sevict's Line 034 had completed most of the construction work for the Claude Defence Line and also reorganised the garrisons in the colony.

As for Bolonik's Line 033, they had formed nine garrison lines in the colonies of Tyrrsim, Mormaly, and Aduras and gathered them in Anfiston. Coupled with the two garrison lines already there, there were now enough men to form a full-fledged garrison corps with some leftovers.

Miselk decided to forge them into the kingdom's first battle corps on the new continent. Officers from Ranger were to be transferred in bulk and the corps would be subordinate to Ranger. They would be put mainly to use in mounting a counteroffensive against Shiks' colonial forces.

The first two targets were Pancry in Robisto and Krado in Balingana. The strategists in folk command had a heated debate regarding corps to attack first. In the end, Miselk made the decision to take on Pancry.

Claude didn't understand why. Pancry was easily a step mightier than Krado. Pancry had benefited the most from the naval resupply in the rainy season and they still had a line of light cavalry. Krado only had been reinforced by only 2 lines of infantry. They had not a single mounted man with which to scout.

Claude believed they should go for the easier target before launching an attack on the stronger. Miselk disagreed. He explained that obliterating Pancry first would buy them time to reinforce Patres' fortifications. Ranger had come to Anfiston with 12 heavy-field cannons with which they intended to strengthen the city's walls.

With the 12 heavy cannons, Patres would seal off Dorinibla River's ocean exit so Shiksan ships could no longer resupply Krado using the river. Even if Krado got word of Pancry's extermination, they wouldn't be able to use Dorinibla River to escape.

Alternatively, if they wiped Krado out first, Pancry would be prepared for Ranger's arrival and might get the supply ships to help them retreat. That way, Pancry couldn't be eliminated and it would affect General Miselk's strategy to cross Dorinibla to retake the fallen colonies.

Before attacking Pancry, Tribe 131 had to enter Robisto and keep them distracted while the rest went about their work in the city. They had to take out every single Pancrian scout that left the enemy base.

It was an easy mission. Pancry had gotten a new light-cavalry line, but Tribe 131's light-cavalry clan had a field day against them. The scouts the enemy sent out in smaller groups never returned, and the larger clans were whittled to the bare single digits in a couple days.

They could operate within just 15 kilometres of their base with a reasonable chance of getting back alive. Any further and their lives were forfeit. If Claude could reduce that to just 5 kilometres, his mission would be accomplished.

However, there were three days before Ranger's departure. Claude still had to return to his tribe's camp to inform the men of their promotions. The camp was at Lanu. Claude found his siblings waiting for him when he arrived.

"Why are you here? Did something happen back home?" Claude asked with surprise and doubt. He hugged his grown-up brother and stroked his little sister's hair.

Angelina pouted. "Claude, did you forget Blowk's age again? He's 20 now and has to serve in the force. Mom and Kefnie said that since he's going to serve, he might as well serve with you. That way, you can look after him."

Claude slapped his forehead; he had really forgotten. He was eight years older than Bloweyk. He had turned 28 with the new year and his brother had matured into a 20-year-old adult. His brother had graduated from middle school at the age of 18 and had met the requirements to serve. As the five-year war had ended, the kingdom wasn't in dire need of new recruits, however, so service could be delayed a year or two. Now he had hit 20, he was about to be conscripted. The two siblings had come looking for their older brother in that regard.

"Myjack, take Blowk and settle the paperwork," Claude said.

It just so happened he had several hundred positions to fill, so Bloweyk had the honour of being his first new recruit. Claude made him his orderman.

Making one's relative serve as personal orderman was one of the unspoken privileges afforded high-ranking officers. Claude didn't have to ask anyone for permission. He didn't mind doing it, either; he had spent too much time away and wanted to keep him close to observe how he had developed.

He instructed Myjack to prepare Angelina's accommodation in Lanu. Women weren't allowed to stay in army lodgings. He later announced the general promotion to cheery bursts. Apart from Bloweyk, who had just enlisted and wasn't aware of anything, all the soldiers cheered excitedly.

Even though expansion and promotions were good, Tribe 131 wouldn't expand before exterminating Pancry and Krado. They still had two huge battles ahead. The soldiers promoted kept their original posts temporarily and would only be given higher positions when the time came to rest and reorganise.

That night, Claude had a good talk with Bloweyk. His brother was quite a worrisome fellow. Like Claude, he graduated first of his class, but didn't tie like Claude had with Welikro. Bloweyk was the undisputed champion.

He had little else of which to be proud, however. His grades were a mess. Instructor Weckham had tried, to no avail, to teach him. He had brought Claude's achievements up time and again, but the little rascal stayed stubbornly in last or second last in every subject.

He had been very arrogant in school as well. Unlike Claude, who had his friends to keep him relatively grounded, Bloweyk had no one. He'd become the school bully, and no one liked him.  Even his minions followed him only to stay out of his sights.

Not only that, Claude had often went on excursions with his friends, whereas Bloweyk went into the mountains and ancient forests alone to hunt. His guts and misadventures often made their mother worry day in and out. Angelina, however, was aware that Bloweyk had begun learning magic at the age of 16 like Claude and became a one-ring rune magus at 18.

For his first three tier-zero basic spells, Bloweyk chose Magus' Hands, Fine Control and Eye of Appraisal. He didn't learn Decomposition and Reconstruction as he didn't like doing alchemical experiments. He engraved Magic Missile, Mental Shock, Sheila's Vine Wrap, and Thorn Wreath, which Angelina managed to reconstruct from the magic accessory Claude had brought back.

Bloweyk had picked mostly combat spells as his basic spells, which was why he dared challenge the forests and mountains alone. He said that he was quite famous in Whitestag and was known as the hunter king, as he had once entered Swamp Kemda alone and killed three niros crocodiles, one of which was even larger than the one Claude got back then. He had heard about their skin being materials for magic scrolls and tomes from Angelina, so he wanted to have a tome of his own and went crocodile hunting.

Chapter 346 - Angelina's Marriage Matters

Claude was rather surprised his much younger brother was fiercer than him!

Bloweyk said he hated Viscount Felidos as he kept wanting to recommend him to Bluefeather despite how often he had refused him. The old man didn't even pay a visit after the new year and personally got Bloweyk a conscription order in an attempt to make it fait accompli -- the same way he'd gone about it with Claude.

The old guy didn't expect that when he strolled up to the Ferd house with the order from Bluefeather, Bloweyk took out a document proving his enlistment with Ranger. The viscount's order was void since Bloweyk already belonged to another military unit, even if only as a reservist.

The old guy gave up and left, shoulders slumped. Felidos had tried so hard to draft a member of Ranger into Bluefeather and now he had to deal with the consequences. Bloweyk said the old man must be sick in the head. Why else would he have the ghastly hobby of forcefully recruiting people for Bluefeather? He also kept harping on about how Claude couldn't achieve what he did had he not gotten his recommendation initially.

Claude shook his head as he listened. He only made it as far as he had thanks to luck. He would've died several times over had he stayed in Bluefeather. The corps had suffered the most in the last war. First, they were surrounded on Amilia Plains. They only broke out of that by sacrificing thousands of men. Then they were all but eradicated on the Canasian plains. Claude could count on one hand the people he knew from his time in the corps still alive in its ranks.

Claude wondered where his little brother had gotten his proof. He apologised for forgetting to get him one himself and allowing Felidos to cause so much trouble.

Bloweyk said someone called Colonel Skri had visited them when Ranger's main force arrived in Whitestag. He said he was a friend of Claude's and apologised for not coming to his and Kefnie's wedding. He decided to visit Claude's son and check on his family.

Skri brought many expensive gifts. Though their mother had refused to accept them, Skri said he had a very deep relationship with Claude. The two had fought and covered each other's backs on the battlefield, so he asked them to not mind the gifts. Kefnie and Angelina were cooking for Skri while Bloweyk and his mother accompanied him. Bloweyk hadn't decided where he wanted to serve, so Skri recommended Ranger since his brother was in it as well.

Skri sent his adjutant with a proof of enlistment and a reservist uniform. When Felidos came with Bluefeather's conscription and wanted to send him off, he had the proof at hand.

Claude breathed a sigh of relief at his brother's luck and was thankful for Skri's goodwill. Bloweyk had lucked out. The proof was dated for the 10th month of the previous year, just in time for it to grant him access to Tribe 131's general promotion, making him a corporal.

He'd not held an army-issue musket, not even once, but he was already a corporal. He'd not undergone an hour's training, either, nor had he marched in uniform for even a single kilometre. He just had the luck of the draw. He became a serving soldier the day he became a reservist, and it qualified him for the promotions once he became an active member of a combat unit.

The timing of his service could have been better, however. Claude wasn't happy to have him in a combat unit during a war. He could have waited another six months before he would have been called up. His family could use him much more right now than Ranger.

Bloweyk said, "It's all because Anns couldn't stand staying home. She just dragged me along."

"Huh? What's up with Anna? Why can't she stay home?"

Bloweyk complained about his sister for the next half an hour, using colourful adjectives like she-tyrant, dictator, and demon-witch. All of which made Claude's stomach hurt from his laughter. Angelina clearly had a massive influence on Bloweyk. Claude did not doubt for a second that she was the sole reason the little spoilt brat had turned into a half-decent young man rather than a failure like his grandfather.

It took half an hour, but the truth finally came out. Their mother had turned up the heat on Angelina to marry so much in the last couple of months that even the stubborn young magus couldn't bear it anymore. She decided to visit her older brother, and dragged her little brother, kicking and screaming, along. Taking the little rascal to report for duty was a convenient excuse, after all, and not one she was about to pass up just because he did not want to. Her mother did get the final word in, however. She told the girl to not return until she had a husband.

Claude didn't know what to think of the situation. He should have handled these things before he'd departed. He couldn't exactly blame his mother for her angst. He was 28 and his sister, four years his junior, was 24; she was already getting very old to be still unmarried. Being single at her age would have been absolutely normal back on Earth, but on Freia she was already becoming old goods.

He had to have a good talk with his little sister the next day. He knew a couple people that might make a decent husband for her. He just needed to know what she wanted in a partner to narrow the list. He did not expect it to go easily, however. His sister was nothing if not stubborn. It had been balanced, even hidden, by her timidity, but since she'd learned magic that had vanished. Even Claude had found her difficult to handle since his return from the war.

The conversation turned to Bloweyk's training in magic. His talent was much worse than his elder siblings. Claude had broken into the world of magi in a year, but Bloweyk had taken two. It was his excuse for his lack of friends. He said he spent all his time meditating or otherwise engaged in training. He didn't consider it a worthwhile endeavour to find friends, either, since he didn't think of anyone he could beat into submission as worthy of being his friend.

He'd explored the old tower on Egret several times, hoping to make a similar find to his brother, to no avail. He got a couple good hunts in, at least. He had taken down a cloud leopard, a python, three wolves, and seven wild boars during his trips.

He was about a third of the way to his second ring. He had expected to get there in three or four more years back home. In the army however, his time for training would be much less and it could easily take him a decade to do it.

Bloweyk was certainly no rune magus. He'd specialised entirely on combat spells. Even the few alchemical-focused spells he knew, such as Magus' Hands and Fine Control, he used for combat. He particularly liked to dissect hibernating bears.

He was quite happy to be under his elder brother's wing again. Particularly because it would allow him to continue training in magic, even better now that he had ready access to his guidance. Claude didn't know how much help he could be to his little brother. He was a rune magus, and knew only about them and their training. His little brother, much like Sheila, walked a different path of which Claude knew next to nothing.

The talk continued late into the night. Sleep finally overtook the two as the black of the night was coloured with the icy blue of morning.

The two couldn't get any good sleep, however. Claude was too busy, and Bloweyk had to start on-the-job training. Claude was up the moment the morning horn sounded and started instructing his new subordinate. The two had breakfast, and called for Myjack. He was quickly informed, however, that the man had departed the previous evening and had yet to return. He didn't think too much of it, however, and called Gum. He had the man give his new subordinate a run-down on some basic combat training. He could not have his little brother and orderman embarrassing him.

Myjack returned to the camp that afternoon shortly after lunchtime with Angelina.

Claude nearly fell off his chair at what his sister reported when she noticed her brother eyeing her inquisitively.

"I'm marrying Myjack."

Angelina pushed Myjack to Claude with her last word. The poor guy stared at his superior like he was a wolf, and Myjack a rabbit.

"W-w-wait... When did the two of you decide this?"

To be honest, Myjack had been on Claude's list of possible candidates. He was just one year Angelina's senior. He had no loyalties other than to Claude. He didn't have a family to compete for his loyalty since he was an orphan, and he didn't have divided loyalties in the army or upper echelons of society since Claude had been his first, and hitherto only, superior, and was the one who'd made him what he was today. He didn't have any exceptional talents, but he was good enough to not be a burden, and Claude valued his loyalty more than he did any talent he might or might not have, since Angelina was more than capable of filling that part of the bargain.

The man was a second lieutenant, a decent rank for one of his age, if somewhat average by Claude's standard. He didn't have any extraordinary skills when it came to warfare or combat, but he didn't need any. His proximity to Claude was all that mattered in that regard. Claude would drag him up the ranks with him kicking and screaming if need be, not that he would do either of those things, of course.

"As much as I hate Mother's nagging, she is right. I'm getting too old to be single. It's about time I found a husband. Myjack fits the bill just fine. He's a good subordinate of yours, and doesn't have any deal-breaking flaws or bad habits. He's single of course, which is most important. We've come to fetch your blessing," Angelina declared.

Her tone and word choice made it clear she had not come for something that was Claude's to give, but for something that was hers to take.

Claude almost felt bad for Myjack. He'd watched his sister order him around like a servant during their stay several years earlier. Myjack was too used to being ordered around, and too adept and willing to go along, to complain, or even think twice about it. The two got along well enough in that sense, but Claude had never seen anything that could hint at a possible romance, even a hypothetical future romance. Myjack right now also didn't appear like a man who'd just been granted a wish. He instead looked like a caged animal.

"What happened?" Claude asked his subordinate.

"Sir, I was force--ouch..."

Angelina's hand bounced off the back of the poor boy's head.

"Don't go back on your word. Don't forget what happened last night. You have to take responsibility."

"Quiet, Anna. Let Myjack finish," Claude said, a headache threatening.

Bloweyk was right. Angelina had changed a lot. She'd become violent, something Claude had never seen in her before. What had happened between the two of them that merited Myjack 'taking responsibility'?

Myjack stared out the window, quiet as the grave. Angelina closed the door and raised her hand to cast Silence. Claude's gaze cooled. Myjack wasn't a magus, but Angelina had used a spell in front of him.

"He already knows I'm a magus," Angelina said.

It was all to blame on their carelessness. When Claude had instructed Myjack to prepare a place to stay for his sister, he rented a cottage since he knew she would be staying for a while. It was outside of town, and perfect for her.

He had been worried about her safety, however, especially since she didn't know local customs and wouldn't know to be suspicious of nikancha. He returned to camp to fetch two muskets for her.

Angelina, ever the alchemical researcher, had immediately gotten to experimenting. She'd been unable to do so for the month-and-a-half-long journey.

Myjack noticed something was off when he returned. The windows were shut and even the curtains were pulled. He suspected someone had broken in. It was Angelina's first day there and she should've left the windows open to air out the place and clean up instead of making the place airtight.

Afraid something had happened, he loaded one of the muskets and barged into the house. Inside he found a pearl of light floating in mid-air in front of Angelina. His eyes wandered to the ground in front of here, where he saw herbs and powders moving around on their own.

His sudden entry shocked Angelina half to death and the ingredients disintegrated as the array collapsed. When Myjack saw Angelina was fine, he put down his musket and his eyes darted to the floating light. The enraged Angelina immediately bound him with Magus' Hands and gave him a good beating, before she considered how she would deal with him.

He had barged into the room with good intentions and was closely associated with the family, not to mention being her brother's trusted adjutant. She was also not someone to just kill someone for being inconvenient. She thought about their time together a couple years earlier, and decided he would do as a husband and told him they were going to get married right then and there.

The poor boy was scared shitless of his superior's sister. He'd been cautious of her before, given her bossy attitude, but after what had just happened, he was absolutely terrified of her. It took her nearly an hour to calm him down and convince him she was not going to turn him into a frog or some other hapless animal for her experiments.

Chapter 347 - Victory and Expansion

Claude glanced at Myjack perplexedly. The kid had become his brother-in-law so easily, and his pretty and obedient sister had become the brat's wife out of nowhere. Despite his almost-feeling-sorry for the kid, he also felt the brat had lucked out big time. He was just in the right -- or wrong, as Myjack might see it -- place at the right -- or wrong -- time. Perhaps it was just good karma. Myjack had tried to save her life and Angelina happened to leave home because her mother was pressuring her to marry, and somehow, he was now a Ferd.

Bloweyk was elated. He was greatly amused when he saw Angelina ordering Myjack around like a dog instead of him. So, he wasn't most in favour of the marriage. He thought that if Myjack married her, his life would be doomed and he would definitely be worked to suffering bronchitis at the very least.

Had Angelina not been a magus, Myjack would have thanked his lucky stars for the marriage. He had never imagined becoming Claude's brother-in-law and hadn't even had the thought of getting together with the haughty Angelina. He had quite the inferiority complex. He had never considered himself the equal of people like Claude and didn't think he would eventually become a proper, commissioned second lieutenant.

Myjack saw Claude as his master. Claude took him, all helpless, in during his cadet training and taught him how to survive and develop. He had taught him how to read and write, all sorts of skills a soldier would need, made him a distinguished officer and his trusted assistant. He had decided long ago to devote himself to his superior for the rest of his life.

When he was young, he had begged in the town with a crippled old vagabond. When he heard him chat with some tavern-goers about magi, they intentionally tried to frighten him. They told him magi loved turning people into frogs or sheep or other monsters. The ordeal had left him traumatised. When he found Angelina was a magus, his mind half shut down and he just cowered in the corner.

He'd thanked his lucky stars when he had kept his form, and had wished to never meet the woman again, but now he was to share the rest of his life with her, as her husband no less! That said, in spite of his fear of magi, he was quite happy, though he was somewhat terrified of how Claude would react. Once he'd calmed down and thought about it some more, he'd also decided to hell with it. If he could take such a beautiful maiden as his wife, he didn't care whether she was an evil magus or not.

Decisions were made quickly in wartime and Angelina was not one to let Claude stop her from doing what she wanted, so he had no choice but to consent to the marriage. It would be somewhat inappropriate to get married this quickly, however, so they decided to hold the marriage in a week in the colony's capital, Grinosburg. Claude invited a few of his closest comrades and the couple had a simple ceremony at the city's moon shrine.

Normally the groom would be given leave for a couple weeks to consummate the marriage but they were in the heat of war, so he had no such luck. The earliest chance of that was after they'd defeated Pancry and Krado. Luckily for him, Angelina decided to stay in Lanu until she could drag him home and show him off to her mother to get the old woman to stop nagging her.

On the 11th of the 5th month, Ranger approached Pancry's base. As the corps' scouts had been suppressed, Ranger got to within five kilometres of the base undiscovered. Miselk ordered his men to mount up and play light cavalry.

Luck was truly on Ranger's side. Pancry had been split in two. Only half was currently in the base. The other half was off attacking Patres. The men left behind to hold down the fort at the base stood no chance against Ranger and were soon overwhelmed.

Without their supplies and support, the rest of the trapped corps raised the flag in just three days. Ranger suffered only light casualties and Miselk quickly led it and one of the colony folks against Krado.

They had heard about Pancry's fall and quickly withdrew from Brikaman to set up three lines of defence around Jinkle. They were far weaker than the enemy currently marching against them, however, so they fell as well after another three days of fighting.

Claude had led the previous failed attack against the town and had taken the lessons for which he'd paid in blood and comrades to heart. He levelled the buildings along the corridors of attack before sending in his men, and they marched over the enemy corpses to the main fortifications. There they pummelled the enemy rather than leading frontal charges until they surrendered.

The assault took a week and by the end, nearly none of Krado's men still stood. The few who could still move enough to raise the flag, did so, and the town fell to Ranger. Claude wished dearly to give the man who'd caused the death of so many of his men a beating, but they quickly learnt he'd been buried on the second day of fighting.

The victory was staggering. They'd wiped out two corps in just over a month. Their reputation all over the kingdom, and even beyond it, soared. They set about repairing the bridges Claude had burnt down, almost daring the enemy to try and cross. Naturally they weren't as daft as to do it without preparing for exactly that happening. They set up three cannon positions on the banks near the bridges.

As Miselk had predicted, the Shiksan navy's Nubissian flotilla made their move and sent seven warships and eleven merchantmen down Dorinibla River to the crossing in Balingana with the intent of destroying the floating bridge and bombard Ranger's campsite, only to fall for Miselk's trap. The three hidden cannon formations opened fire on the ships when they were at their closest. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Had the fight happened on the shore with the ships in the open ocean, the cannons would have been obliterated, but in the narrows of the river the enemy ships couldn't turn to bring their cannons to bear without running ashore. They'd have had to drop anchor and pull themselves about to bombard Ranger, but they couldn't do that while under heavy cannon fire, not while confused and panicked as they were by the ambush. The battle lasted an hour and a half and ended when the enemy abandoned four warships and eight merchantmen and fled with what they had left.

With the oceanborn threat out of the way, Dorinibla River could no longer be used by the enemy. Ranger crossed in the middle of the 6th month and reclaimed the lost towns. By the end of the 7th they had entered the last lost Aueran colony, Cromwell. They were outside Wickhamsburg's gates by the 8th and took it in that month. One corps had successfully fought to the capital, Wickhamsburg during the middle of the 8th month, and reconquered it. Ranger had successfully reclaimed all lost territory on Nubissia.

"General, why haven't we pushed into the enemy colony? We could kick them off the continent entirely."

Shiks relied on Port Vebator to link their colonies to the kingdom. Without it, the rest of the colonies would be cut off and would certainly fall. They'd not set one foot across the border, however. They'd contented themselves with reclaiming all the lost land. Instead they'd just set up camp along the border and kept a vigil.

This was not the first time the question had been brought up, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. The men were itching to take the fight into enemy territory, especially since they had such a juicy target that could in one fell swoop kick their enemy off the continent entirely.

General Miselk smiled bitterly at his men's enthusiasm.

"Gentlemen, Ranger has reclaimed all our lost territory and exterminated the offending vermin. We hold 250 thousand captives.

"Personally, I wish we could march on Port Vebator as well, but that's not going to happen. High Command has forbidden us from crossing into enemy territory. They don't want this to get out of hand and spill back onto Freia. We can win a war far away from Shiks, but it's an entirely different matter if the fighting starts closer to home.

"Shiks might still be persuaded to accept the loss of two corps and half their flotilla without making a further fuss, but they will not accept losing their newfound colonies. We can't afford a war back home right now. As much as we want to kick them off Nubissia, we have to swallow our anger and settle for bloodying their noses.

"We already have an ambassador on his way to Shiks to sue for peace. If we take Vebator, they'll march on the kingdom back home. If we keep the door open to Nubissia, however, they're more likely to try and come through it rather than fight at home.

"We already have the advantage and the better footing. They can't defeat us with the dripfeed of forces they can maintain through one port. We can just sit here and wipe the flies until the mountain of corpses is tall enough for them to give up from the stench alone. Are you confident you can do at least that, gentlemen?"

"Yes!" the officers bellowed.

Miselk smiled happily. He next handed out the missions, most concerned the training of more colonial corps and the maintenance and repairs of various fortifications. A couple units were ordered to recruit more men for their own units. They were settling in for a possibly long minor war.

Claude's mission was simple. He was to go to Anfiston and fill up Tribe 131's holes and make it a proper line. He could pick the recruits from commoners of fitting age. Line 131 was to report for duty again in six months.

131 had only acted as scout once they'd rejoined the corps and, as such, had suffered few casualties. Sevict said that since the tribe had the chance to shine before the main force arrived and had gained many merits, it was time for the rest to get a share.

Tribe 131 returned to camp near Lanu nearing the end of the 10th month. Suitable youths were recruited and training started. It was quite an endeavour. Several new tribes had to be made from scratch and their entirely greenhorn contingents trained into combat-ready formations. Despite the bustle, however, Claude was focused solely on the business of sending his sister and now-brother-in-law home.

Myjack was given the whole six months off to go home, consummate his marriage, and play good son-in-law to his new mother-in-law. He actually only had 4 months of leave available, but Claude gave him one for travel and another to make up for having to wait after the marriage to get his leave. The night before they set off, Claude brought Bloweyk to Angelina's cottage and showed them two designs.

They were weapons he'd designed since coming to Nubissia. He hoped his sister would research them. Myjack was to help answer any questions she had about the weapon side of things. Claude would have preferred to work on the project himself, but he had a war to fight.

The first design was of a long-handled grenade, a stielhandgranate. A rather simple design as far as hand grenades went, but nothing easy to make with Freia's technology. The second design was of a revolver. The gun itself was easy, just a casting of metal. The real issue was the rounds.

Claude had given up on developing flintlocks and decided to skip straight to revolvers. He had seen several wild-west films, and had learnt from them what basic components made up a cartridge: a casing, gunpowder, and a blast cap.

Revolvers didn't have range, but Claude didn't want a replacement for the musket. He wanted a supplement that could fire faster to improve his firepower at close range. He believed that if his sister could develop actual cartridges, the days of the matchlock would be limited. Regardless of whether she could actually research it, one thing was certain: they had to keep it an absolute secret.

Chapter 348 - Theatre of War

On the 28th of the 1st month of Year 586, Prince Hansbach arrived in Tyrrsim. He was going to preside over military matters on Nubissia as the royal family's representative and provide the long-awaited supply and equipment support to Ranger. Among them were near 100 thousand Aubass Mark 3s which were intended to replace the old muskets the garrison troops in the colonies were using.

He surveyed the land as he travelled to Anfiston and it was the end of the 3rd month when he arrived. The rainy season just passed and Claude's newly expanded Line 131 took over security for the first prince. After accompanying the prince to meet the viceroy and high-commissioner in the capital of the colony, Claude still had to go to Port Patres with the first prince as the headquarters of Ranger was situated there.

On the 18th of the 4th month, Prince Hansbach arrived in Port Patres and General Miselk held a grand banquet to welcome him.

The first prince gave an impassioned speech after the army welcome and won the applause of the tens of thousands of soldiers of Ranger and the colonial corps. The whole atmosphere was incredibly heated.

After the speech, the first prince conducted an award ceremony for soldiers who gained merit. The spotlight event was Miselk's promotion from Lieutenant-General to General. His honorary viscount Title was also elevated to that of an honorary count. Claude, on the other hand, was given the Title of honorary baron. Those two were the only ones to receive noble Titles.

Incidentally, Claude had to go through some paperwork during his registration as a baron. He had to decide what his sobriquet, or middle name, would be. He could choose 'An' from Anfiston, 'Ro' from Robisto or 'Ba' from Balingana to signify that his entitling achievement was obtained in those places. He could even choose 'Cro' from his recovery of the lost colony of Cromwell.

However, Claude chose 'Han' for it instead, much to Prince Hansbach's puzzlement. He didn't know what he chose that as his sobriquet. Claude explained that it was due to Prince Hansbach's recognition of his talent that his military career kicked off. He was also the one who gave him his knighthood, so he wanted to express his everlasting gratitude to the first prince by using part of his name as his sobriquet.

Despite thinking of it as nothing more than flattery, Prince Hansbach was still quite glad. Nobody would hate someone who knew how to express gratitude. So, Prince Hansbach gave Claude the middle name of Han. Claude was to be known as Baron Claude Han Ferd from then on. Even his family members could use the middle name.

While that was the explanation he gave the first prince, the word 'Han' was the only word that he could connect to his previous life. On old Earth, he was Han Chinese. It was a word that symbolised the two-millennia-long history of his people and he wore it with pride. Despite the difficulties they've faced, especially the hardships in recent times, his people had risen up once more after three decades of reformation when he first transmigrated and was a player on the world stage once more.

After the promotion and entitlement ceremony came the grand banquet. Claude noticed, however, that Prince Hansbach didn't seem too keen on participating in it. Not long after the banquet began, the prince and Miselk were nowhere to be seen. When he returned to his quarters during the night, he got notified about a meeting that would take place morning at nine the next day.

"Shiks has once more ignored the olive branch our kingdom extended them. They refuse to acknowledge their loss on Nubissia and even proudly proclaimed to our ambassador that the fall of Pancry and Krado didn't necessarily mean that the Shiksan forces are inferior to ours, since those two corps are formed in the colonies and weren't their standing corps."

Prince Hansbach brought the high-ranking officers of Ranger bad news. Fortunately, Shiks didn't turn their attention to the Aueran mainland and insisted on stubbornly standing back up where it fell. Shiks immediately declared that it would be transporting five standing corps to their Nubissian colonies to fight the Aueran forces to the death until all invaders of Shiksan territory were exterminated.

"Wait, since when did we become the invaders? We're stationed at the borders of their colonies and we didn't even trespass an inch onto their land!" Quite a number of officers brought up similar concerns of being labelled invaders.

Prince Hansbach scoffed, "Shiks arrogantly thinks that the land they took became theirs by default. How else did you think they conquered most of Northern Freia? Cromwell had fallen to their colonial forces for up to half a year and according to their regulations, it has become their de-facto territory. Our reclamation of lost land is nothing short of invasion in their eyes."

"Ridiculous!"

"That's hogwash!"

The officers were visibly enraged. Before the war ended, Shiks dared to declare occupied territory to be their own. It was nothing short of a slight to Aueras and its army. The officers were already rubbing their hands together in anticipation to give the Shiksan army a harsh lesson in the upcoming battles.

One of the prince's strategists approached the map on the wall and briefed the officers on the state of the Shiksan forces. Back on Freia, Shiks controlled the whole northern area and their territory was split into 13 provinces, covering 57 prefectures. There were 15 standing corps in their army, one for each province, and each standing corps numbered around 63 thousand men. They were more or less the size of an Aueran combat corps. The total number of troops in their army numbered around a million men.

Their navy consisted of the Seaking fleet and their main prerogative was to defend against Skilosian magi and pirates from harassing the northern coastal islands. However, the evil magi invasion was no more than folklore at that point and nobody treated that seriously anymore. Back when they first got Port Vebator, Seaking impatiently formed a flotilla there, but it ended up being completely destroyed in Dorinibla River due to the traps the Auerans laid.

In fact, Pancry and Krado were both standing corps of Shiks. They had been transported to Nubissia to suppress civilian revolts. Shiks had formed three more combat corps in the colonies to attack Aueras with after the native revolts were all quelled.

Initially, they managed to take a few colonies with Pancry and Krado alone, but they didn't think two of their corps, as well as a flotilla of Seaking, would be eliminated. The territory they conquered was reclaimed and they suffered up to 250 thousand casualties on Nubissia.

That greatly enraged Shiks. Not able to stand the utter humiliation, they resolved themselves to fight it out with Aueras on Nubissia once and for all. Like what they declared to the ambassador, their two lost corps weren't much. They still had more than enough elite units. They would send five corps there first, and if that wasn't enough, they'd send ten more. Surely the Auerans would surrender sooner or later.

In actuality, the troops of Ranger had expected the war to continue even before the first prince gave them the news. Two months prior, some spies in Port Vebator sent word that Shiks sent three more corps to Nubissia. Two of them were stationed at the border in a face-off against Ranger and the Aueran colonial corps, but they kept to defence only without engaging in any conflict.

On one hand, they didn't want to engage Ranger too soon as there were more forces on the way from Shiks. On Ranger's side, top brass had given the order to not cross the border or provoke the enemy lest the peace negotiations be negatively impacted. Now that continued war was almost an inevitable fact, some officers proposed for them to make the first move to wipe out the two Shiksan corps at the border before the other two corps arrive in Port Vebator.

However, both Hansbach and Miselk shot that suggestion down. While attacking first was a legitimate strategy, it didn't suit the kingdom's strategic goals. What Aueras needed now wasn't to completely crush the invading forces. Instead, they aimed to cause Shiks to hemorrhage as much military might they could in Nubissia so there would be no threat to the kingdom back on Freia.

"The enemy didn't mind losing 250 thousand of their forces. But what if they lose 2.5 million? I trust they won't be able to claim to be the hegemon of the north after this," Miselk said. The others were dumbstruck. Was it even possible? Exterminating 2.5 million enemy troops seemed almost impossible.

Putting that aside, even causing them a million casualties was enough to severely weaken Shiks. They wouldn't be able to toss their weight around Northern Freia any longer and the neighbouring countries there might band together to kick their former tyrant that was bleeding itself dry for a piece of pie.

"I'm not joking," Miselk said with utmost seriousness, "We've fought Pancry and Krado, and we haven't really considered them our match. Their soldiers are indeed hardy and their officers are talented. But against our folk, they use old tactics, firearms and cannons. They are one generation behind us.

"Don't forget that Shiks hasn't fought a war for the past four decades. Even though they have a huge standing army, their soldiers and officers haven't experienced true war. The most they got to do is suppressing native rebellions here or cleaning up bandit groups in the mountains, unlike us, who have gone through five years of bloody war on Freia. With the newest tactics, weapons, and our rich experience, it is our chance to overwhelm Shiks, who are still stubbornly stuck to old ways.

"If we make the first move, we are almost certain that the enemy wouldn't be able to withstand our assault. In the end, we will force them to shrivel back into Port Vebator to fortify it. If we can't conquer Port Vebator, we wouldn't be able to achieve our objectives and we risk Shiks turning their attention to our mainland. But if we aren't able to take Port Vebator, we will have to fight a long war with our enemy and give them a chance to learn our newest tactics.

"So, the best move we can make is not to attack them, but bait them to attack our colonies instead. We'll use the advantage of space and time to lengthen and spread the enemy supply lines thin so they can only blaze one trail into our territory. Then, we can spread out our forces into smaller units to cut their men off from the main force and exterminate each one of them separately. We have the advantage of higher mobility and better firepower, after all. I trust that no enemy will be Ranger's match."

After Miselk finished his strategy briefing, Prince Hansbach gave a few more orders, or rather, strategic guidelines of the war on Nubissia.

First, Ranger was to be expanded into a full corps and the new recruits were to be sourced from the kingdom and transported to Nubissia. Additionally, a second colonial corps was to be formed in the seven colonies to support Ranger as irregulars to resist the Shiksan colonial forces.

The formation of the second corps was no small burden for the seven colonies to bear, as the total population of kingdom citizens there numbered only 2.3 million. Having two colonial corps and various local garrison units brought that number to around 200 thousand, which was a tenth of the population of the kingdom's citizens. Most of the fit youths from the colonies would be drafted.

The third order was for the compartmentalisation of war theatres on the battlefield. The territory of Robisto and Balingana on the other side of Dorinibla river facing the coast would be absorbed into Balingana. Cromwell and Balingana would be where the enemy would be lured in to fight. Most of the civilians in those two colonies were to be moved to the colonies in the rear to make use of the scorched-earth tactic.

At the same time, the parts of Robisto and Balingana on the other bank of Dorinibla River would be united into the new Robisto. After the reassignment, Robisto and Balingana would be parted by Dorinibla River instead of them both being separated by it formerly. The new area of Balingana was now about two times that of the new Robisto.

The two territories were reassigned for convenience's sake. Aueras could afford to give up on Balingana and Cromwell and still keep Robisto defended using Dorinibla River as a natural barrier. Even if they wouldn't be able to hold the enemy back at the river, they could still fall back to Claude Defence Line to keep them out of Anfiston.

The last order was for Anfiston, Robisto, Balingana and Cromwell to be united into a single war theatre with General Miselk as the field marshal. From that day onwards, the four colonial corps of Aueras, the viceroys and high-commissioners, and the administration of those four colonies would be under Ranger corps' jurisdiction. In other words, the four colonies were under martial rule.

Chapter 349 - Great Battle's Eve

Combining four colonies into one theatre and giving military power entirely to one person had no precedent in the kingdom. It had little choice, however. The kingdom had already given up on Cromwell and Balingana. Robisto and Anfiston would be the most contested. Even if Robisto was lost, Ranger could still fall back to the Claude Defence Line to protect Anfiston.

The two sides had been unevenly matched from the start. Shiks could mobilise their entire military might, whilst Aueras was tied down almost entirely with their new territories on the mainland. Despite the latter's best efforts, they'd only managed to field one corps in addition to Ranger.

As Miselk had said, however, Shiks had not fought a day in forty years and they were behind in the technology game. Ranger had to make the best use of its experience and weaponry if it was to stand any chance. Shiks could send oceans of reinforcements while Ranger couldn't rely on the kingdom for any further support. It wasn't that Aueras didn't want to, it just couldn't.

The last war had drained its coffers almost completely, and it would not have anything with which to fill them again for years to come as it rebuilt its new territories. It could not be put on hold, either, since Nasri and Canas still stood and were building up their military strength with everything they had. They might have signed a treaty, but that didn't mean they were content with the situation.

There were also the issues in the kingdom's old territories as well. Extant internal schisms and longstanding grievances still plagued the kingdom. Stellin X had been bedridden for a while now and had been forced to hand over his governance to his subordinates. The new and old nobility were fighting within the chambers of government over their conflicting interests as well. The new war on Nubissia had only made things worse.

Everyone was fighting over how to handle the situation and who should foot the bill. Even worse was that the colonies had been a key lifeline for the kingdom since the end of the last war. They'd been supplying desperately needed food and other raw materials. That said, the kingdom desperately needed peace and Shiks had offered to end the fighting if they ceded three colonies.

The nobles and other powerful private subjects weren't interested in peace however. They saw this as the perfect opportunity to wipe out the royal family's growing power by sending their forces to Nubissia and letting them rot and die before considering peace.

They'd started with Ranger. It was a convenient excuse, and unfortunately a true one, that the rest of the army was tied down. Reddragon and Griffon were stuck on the border with Nasri. Bluefeather had was still settling in after reforming and was still being kept busy with Canas. The royal guard would never be moved from the capital, that was one thing the royal family would never allow and the nobles and company, for all their scheming, did not want to ruin the kingdom. They understood that if the royal guard was to be wiped out on Nubissia, Shiks would not be content with three colonies, they'd want them all. So they were okay with letting the royal guard stay put. Ranger, however, had to go.

The three new corps had to defend a conquered duchy each and couldn't be mobilised either. And, while Ranger hadn't been a corps in its own right, it was an elite force and known to be equal to a full corps. So they'd been sent to Nubissia.

It had taken them half a year to make the journey, and they'd not disappointed, or they had, depending on one's perspective. They'd eliminated two corps, a flotilla, and retaken all the lost land. The kingdom had taken the opportunity to send an envoy, hoping to successfully sue for peace without any territorial losses.

Shiks did not share their intentions for peace.

Shiks' losses were a national humiliation, especially because they were inflicted by a single mere folk. They clamoured for another round and had five corps already sailing for Port Vebator.

No Aueran foresaw this. No matter how powerful Ranger was, they were only 30 thousand strong. They stood little chance against ten times their number. The two new colonial corps didn't mean anything in the fight either.

The move to create a theatre with just four colonies, meant the kingdom had truly written off the other three.

Hansbach had told Miselk the kingdom's position. While they would give up on the three other colonies, they were not going to leave a single subject or intact square metre of land to Shiks. Ranger was to move everyone out of the colonies to be abandoned, and burn every tree, bush, and blade of grass, and every building.

Robisto was the same. Most of the natural barriers near Dorinibla River had to be used for defense to maximise enemy casualties. They could only fall back to Anfiston after their jobs were done in those colonies.

It was already tough enough to support the only unit to reinforce the colonies, this far away. The long transport routes were a serious obstacle. Shiks would definitely pay a much higher cost by maintaining five corps, however. Aueras hoped the war could be dragged on until Shiks couldn't foot the bill any longer.

Before the first prince left, he announced an arms factory would be built in Anfiston to ease the burden on the supply lines by producing arms and munitions locally. It was a sign of how desperate the situation was. No arms factory had ever been built in the colonies before, it had been too much of a risk. It still was just as much of a risk, but the situation was desperate enough that the kingdom just had to ignore it.

It would be the first factory built in the colonies period, actually. The kingdom had thus far forbidden any manufacturing industry being established in the colonies. The raw materials were to be shipped to the mainland, where it would be processed and goods shipped back. The colonies had to remain dependant on the mainland kingdom. If they became too self-sufficient, they might start having thoughts of becoming less obedient.

The war was forcing the kingdom's hand, however. If they wanted to keep the colonies, they had to allow limited local production of the most necessary military equipment. It simply took too long to ship things from the mainland. The 100 thousand Aubass Mark 3s Hansbach brought with him was only enough to arm Ranger. Few remained for the colonial forces. Another estimated 100 thousand muskets were required for the new corps, local garrison forces, and replacements for weapons damaged in the previous battles.

The kingdom couldn't do it in the short term, and they certainly couldn't get them to the colonies in time. Despite days of non-stop bickering, the opposition finally caved and it was decided to allow arms and munitions production in the colonies while the war raged.

According to the informants in Port Vebator, Shiks would need at least three or four months to ship their reinforcements to Nubissia. It was doubly slowed by the logistics of moving that many men and then supplying them with equipment and supplies. The new Shiksan colonies were larger than their Aueran counterparts, but they were far less developed. They'd thus far only really hunted and established limited farming.

The colonists were actually dependent on the produce from their Aueran neighbours. That was why Shiks wanted Cromwell, Balingana and Robisto. They did not like the thought of being reliant on a rival.

Their corps were confronted with a serious problem when they disembarked in Vebator, however. Their supplies had not made it. They had neither food, nor arms and munitions. Seaking could only transport so much. They had just barely enough food to last until the next shipment came, but definitely not enough to mount any offensives, and their munitions were in an even worse state.

This problem had been foreseen by Aueras, but they had recent experience at war. Shiks did not. They'd been at peace for so long they'd forgotten the difficulties of war. They'd not fought a war on Nubissia ever before, either, so they knew nothing of the difficulties of supplying large formations on another continent. It didn't help that it was a dangerous journey, either.

So, Shiks' logistics forces had been wracking their minds the last half a year. In the end, they had no choice but to hire Nasri and Canas' navies and expropriated most sea-worthy ships in their own kingdom to secure a stable maritime supply line to Nubissia.

According to an Aueran informant in Port Vebator, the military base there was stocked full of resources. There was an estimate of two more shipments before a large enough stockpile for war could be achieved. Coupled with the two standing corps that had yet to arrive, it might take another four months for preparations to be complete and the attack on Cromwell to start.

The informant asked whether they should send men to sabotage the base in Port Vebator by burning supply warehouses to delay the start of the war.

However, Miselk refused the suggestion. Four months was more than enough for the Ranger corps to finish their prewar preparations. There was no need to delay the war. Ranger had to lure the enemy deep into the theatre, surround them, cut them off and exterminate the corps one by one. Only then could they make Shiks feel true pain. Perhaps the loss of five corps would make Shiks understand that the Aueran colonies weren't targets they could lust after.

The evacuation of citizens from Cromwell and Balingana had been going on without a hitch. All seven colonies had been tasked with recruiting youths of fitting age for the formation of the second colonial corps in Anfiston. Miselk wasn't planning to use them as cannon fodder. All they had to do was take over manning Claude Defence Line after their short-term training.

"Colonel Claude, how goes the expansion of Line 131?" Miselk asked after an urgent summons.

"Sir, the expansion has been completed. All new recruits were picked from garrison units across the colonies, so we saved a lot of training time. Currently, they are familiarising themselves with the use of the Aubass Mark 3 and carrying out shooting practice. They are also being drilled in new Ranger tactics," Claude replied.

"Have there been any difficulties?"

"Sir, we have insufficient war horses. Our line requires another two thousand, but logistics said that the next batch of war horses aren't coming until half a year later. They recommend using racehorses as replacements."

Miselk made his decision after a moment of silent contemplation. "I will have the other lines of the folk transfer enough war horses to you. Colonel, you only have three months to complete your training. The enemy is highly likely to attack beyond that. After the enemy enters Balingana, we need Line 131 to transfer to Cromwell to cut off the enemy supply lines to create the conditions necessary for us to exterminate the five enemy corps."

Claude stood ramrod straight. "Yes, General. We shall complete our mission."

Chapter 350 - Bait and Massacre

On the 7th of the 10th month of Year 586, Claude finally received orders from Miselk. There was only one word in the eagle message, 'act', as well as Miselk's signature and official stamp.

"Myjack, send out orders to have the four tribes start the plan. As for the others in the line, have them follow me," Claude instructed.

"Yes, Sir." Myjack saluted.

He was now a captain following a promotion upon his return from his leave. He was still Claude's adjutant, however.

"And have Gum keep the box of treasures well. Don't leak news of it. It's our secret weapon, understood?" Claude told Myjack.

The man nodded and left the office.

He was referring to the fruits of the research project between Angelina and Myjack during his break. It was a box with grenades with a long wooden handle. It was one of the two things he had tasked his sister with designing. Their development had gone well and they could make it according to the design after figuring out the fuse and the delay element.

The boxes were all made using Angelina's array, all 24 of them. The only downside was that it didn't pack that much of a punch. It was not due to a manufacturing flaw, but the limited strength of the explosives at hand, which was merely gunpowder. However, it was enough to send over 20 pieces of shrapnel flying and cause sufficient damage in a three-metre radius according to the experiments Angelina had Myjack carry out.

There was also a production diagram inside the box that detailed the steps to mass produce the needed parts and quality checking procedures. Angelina had translated the steps from the array into normal processes. With the diagram, Claude only needed to buy the materials to produce grenades on a large scale.

He instructed Myjack to keep it secret as he wasn't intent on making grenades any time soon. It wasn't too difficult to make, so he didn't want to add more trouble for himself before he had enough power to ensure he had control over their production. The samples he had his sister make were only for his personal use, such as saving him from a dangerous situation or helping him land a huge achievement.

Angelina was still working on the revolver. According to Myjack, she believed most of the parts could be made using an array, save the bullet primer. The lead core and jacket wasn't a problem, but what to use for the primer was still a giant question. The newly wedded couple had tried many methods but the rate of misfire was still too great.

Claude wasn't much surprised. His sister was an apothecary, not a chemist, after all. There were no 'physics' and 'chemistry' in this world and all tangential topics were usually attributed to mysterious alchemy not taught to the masses. Only the magi and the royal family controlled such information and that was one of the many reasons matchlocks were still used six centuries after their invention.

He decided to take it slowly. He wasn't that well informed on the subject either. He had majored in applied computer science back on Earth and worked mostly in the technical sector after graduation. After deciding to work for his 'boss', he worked in technical support. He'd only started regretting his decisions after coming to Freia.

When news came from the frontlines, Claude got a hold of the latest combat situation. Two days earlier the two standing corps Shiks had stationed at the border, Tanya and Wicklan, had crossed the border and begun their assault on Cromwell. The three other corps were following them some 50 kilometres behind. They were Cybok, Kujoa, and Faybort.

It seemed Shiks had learned their lesson. This time they fought at a steady pace and made sure their units were kept close together so they could come to one another's aid. The five corps were sent out together and any Aueran resistance would be surrounded and attacked from all sides.

They were disappointed, however, to realise the enemy had no intention of meeting them on the field in Cromwell. They retreated the moment they came into contact with them, even around Cromwell's capital, Wickhamsburg, and the four towns. They marched into the capital and found deserted streets and empty houses. Only a couple nikancha could be found wandering about.

The soldiers tried to chase the nikancha back into their ghettos, only to be met with fierce resistance.

Annoyed, the officers ordered for a few killed. That untethered the frustration in the soldiers, and they started massacring every nikancha in sight. Only the young females were spared, but only because they could be used in other ways, which they were, until they broke.

Those that escaped spread news of the massacre wherever they went, and soon the whole colony and beyond knew. Not that many had been killed, actually. Only some one thousand had been shot before the rest had bolted. The army camp also had only some 200 females. The aggressors weren't aware that the massacre would cut off another source of information. Their scouts had always used the nikancha as a source of information, paying them a couple coppers, or something else of value for information on their enemy. Now, however, no nikancha even glanced in their direction other than to spit.

The officers had wanted to chase the nikancha from the city to make the capital the main supply base for the five corps. The four towns could be turned into important supply points as well. The nikancha, however, wanted to take whatever they could carry with them when they left. They didn't expect to be shot for their greed.

The nikancha had always been seen as mix-blood abominations greedy to the core. They'd thought themselves smart, however. They were pathological liars and lazy, stingy fools to everyone else. They stuck together like flies on shit, however.

In some sense, the Auerans had treated the nikancha rather fairly relative to the other nations. Even though they didn't consider them as Aueran citizens, so long as they lived within the colonies and made an honest living, they would be able to earn enough to feed their families well. So long as they paid a set tax, they could move about freely within the colonies and receive protection.

Many of the Aueran settlers, though commoners, would start their own mining ventures, farms, orchards, inns or taverns and they would hire the nikancha as workers with their own family members to supervise them. In most cases, they got along well with the nikancha and made a good living. That was one of the reasons the Aueran colonies became rather well developed.

The Shiksan colonies, on the other hand, were mostly inland. The nikancha who liked to live in coastal areas seldom went to the landlocked areas. Additionally, most of the Shiksan settlers came to the continent for mining related businesses and seldom started smaller businesses like farms or orchards. They were called gold diggers and only targeted the mines for big profits.

Unlike the development in Aueran colonies, the development in Shiksan colonies was mostly spearheaded by nobles and people in power. They scoured their colonies for mines to make huge profits. The nobles would only begin development after locating mining deposits to ensure a constant revenue stream.

Since the development efforts required large numbers of labourers, the nobles turned to the native tribes. They formed mercenary bands to attack the tribes and capture labourers to throw into the dark mining caves. It was practically slave labour and they didn't have to pay the labourers anything. That was also the reason revolts occurred nonstop in the Shiksan colonies. In the eyes of the gold diggers, the native tribes and mineable resources were goods to them all the same.

Had Nasri not given over Port Vebator, Shiks might not have had that much interaction with the nikancha. Unlike the pure-blooded eitat, nikancha were more civilised and willing to exchange their labour and time for food and let the young women service men.

The first batch of Shiksan soldiers to arrive in Nubissia, those from Pancry and Krado, had learned how to interact with the nikancha people and would offer food or money to them in exchange for information of the enemy when their scouts weren't able to find anything out. That was how they were informed of the fire at Mordo and the extermination of the two lines stationed there.

However, none of the officers from the latter five standing corps of Shiks knew how to interact with the nikancha and didn't really mind the massacre. The noble officers even believed that they could let the slave-owning miners turn their sights on them, since they were relatively more docile than the other natives.

Shiks' five corps spent a whole month's time to occupy Cromwell and split up into four towards Balingana. They had no choice but to do so as Balingana was far too large. If they continued with their stable pace, they might have to take double the amount of time to conquer the whole colony.

Since the enemy had abandoned their towns, there wasn't a point in carefully marching to conquer them since they would be undefended. The strategists suggested that the five corps split up in four directions as they headed to Balingana with the intent of shortening the time to conquer the whole colony. They would leave one corps behind to prevent their supply lines from being sabotaged by the enemy.

Unlike Cromwell, Balingana wasn't completely undefended. In certain strategic points with difficult terrains, there would be an Aueran tribe or line stationed there. They upheld a stubborn resistance against the enemy and only retreated at the most crucial moments when the enemy was about to break through. While the four Shiksan forces suffered substantial casualties, their victories were still undebatable.

A high-ranking Shiksan officer who had just conquered another enemy stronghold gleefully ordered his men to report to their corps command that his force was unstoppable and the enemy didn't even last one attack.

The four decades of peace made it easy for the Shiksan officers to be clouded by their victories. They had forgotten to check the disparity between the casualties they suffered and those of their enemy. The enemy corpses at the strongholds they captured were far and few in between whereas the attackers suffered casualty counts amounting to tribes at a time.

While they won and took over the enemy strongholds, causing their enemy to flee haggardly, they lost one tribe after another as they progressed. The high-ranking Shiksan officers mistakenly took that as normal losses and didn't really mind it. Each corps had a total of twenty combat tribes and so long as they were able to continuously win and take over the enemy bases, it didn't matter if they lost a tribe or so of troops.

Little did the Shiksans know that they had fallen for Ranger's plans. The small defensive strongholds Ranger erected were mistakenly identified by the Shiksan corps as fully fortified bases defended by the enemy's main force. So, they bravely charged forward and neglected to look after one another. Gradually, the corps eventually split up towards their complete separate paths.

Chapter 351 - Battle of Balingana (1)

Rodeman Hills was named after a settler-adventurer. A small range of hills in the far east of Balingana some tens of hills long, the tallest three hundred metres above sea level.

Shiks' Tanya corps encountered Aueran resistance there. The Auerans had set up strongholds on the hills to stop Tanya's advance but the corps steamrolled them out of the way. Their brave soldiers drove the Auerans off seven of the hills in a single day.

Tanya's 1st Combat Folk was now deep in the range. Another was protecting their supplies in the rear outside the range. Their casualties had thus far been heavy. They'd lost seven tribes. Even after consolidating, they were still three whole tribes short.

The ranking officers weren't phased, however. As long as they could break through here, they would arrive at Dorinibla. They'd be the first Shiksans to have fought their way there. Quite an achievement indeed.

The officers, all in the rear, of course, celebrated their imminent victory with a grand feast that evening. They would break through the next morning and be on the banks of the river by that evening. They would have driven a wedge right through the range, rather than clearing it entirely, but who cared about the few uncleared hills on the fringes? Any men hiding there could be cut down leisurely later.

The drinks continued to pour and the food vanish. It took them quite a while to notice their cutlery starting to rattle on the tables.

"Attack!" one of the officers eventually shouted through slurred lips.

......

It happened in the cool hours of dawn. Ranger's forces launched a surprise attack on Tanya's main rear camp. More than 20 thousand men on horseback galloped across the red Nubissian dirt amongst the woddle of tents, blades glinting in the moonlight against a slowly greying eastern sky. The soldiers, just startled awake, couldn't put up any effective resistance. They cast their gear away and scattered into the wilderness, many darting for the hills. Those who managed to get out knew their only chance was to run to their comrades encamped amongst the hills.

Ranger didn't hunt the escapees down. They cleared out any surviving resistors in the camp and captured near five thousand prisoners before fortifying the defences and keeping the enemy trapped in the hills.

The hills had one unique feature of which Tanya was oblivious; it had no water. The only source was the small stream by the now-captured camp. Not a single drop of water ran between the stones and grains of sand in the hills.

Some officers mustered their courage and led their men against the remaining forts in the hills, hoping to break through to the river, but they were easily rebuffed. They didn't even make it to within 50 metres of the walls.

This was the first time in forty years they'd tasted war. All the doctrines they'd learned from their libraries and libraries of textbooks were useless. The neat formations, the orderly marches, the drills, the impeccably maintained uniforms and polished weapons did them no good.

They knew nothing else, however, and so they executed their textbooks page by page, and their men died hundred by hundred. They marched in close order against the fortifications. From several hundred metres they were pounded by the cannons, at 200 metres they came under fire from the enemy muskets, at a hundred metres they were sprayed with scattershot. Not one Shiksan drop of sweat or spray of blood made it to the fortifications.

The attacks continued until the men refused to march and turned their muskets on their officers. Daring them to try fighting iron pellets with orders.

The 26 thousand remaining men were broken. The eagles were released and flew off in search of the other corps to deliver the shakily scrawled pleas for help. A couple returned that evening. They were told to hold on for four or five days before the first help could arrive.

They might have made it were food their problem, but lasting even three days without water was asking too much. It was over.

The men surrendered the next day.

They were sent off to the labour camps for ten years where they met their Pancry compatriots and started building the enemy's infrastructure.

Only Tanya's logistics line, left in a town even further back than their main camp, made it out of that battle intact. Twenty thousand had died or been wounded, and 40 thousand captured. The loss tore at Shiks' morale once news got back home, and it did even worse things to the other four corps on Nubissia.

Wicklan, Cybok, and Faybort arrived at the hills three days after the surrender. They were only in time to find the bloated, rotting corpses of their countrymen and the abandoned forts. They sent out their scouts to find out where the rest of the corps had gone, but found only enemy ships anchored in Dorinibla. They knew immediately the enemy was hiding in wait somewhere.

According to Tanya's reports, the officers decided the enemy had probably suffered severe casualties. They had to be licking their wounds and counting their dead. Certainly they could not be ready for a fight at the moment.

The corps thus set up their camps on their side of the river and waited for their supply trains to catch up. They had their soldiers fell trees to make barges and floating bridges in preparation for moving on Robisto.

After receiving the eagle messages from the three other corps, Kujoa's top brass, all the way in the eastern corner of Balingana, breathed a sigh of relief. While Tanya had been obliterated, the enemy had retreated. In other words, no more enemy troops stood in their way. Kujoa could march to Dorinibla without worry of harassment or ambushes. They could take their time finding a place to cross the river and move on into Robisto on their own time.

They were attacked a couple days later while on the march.

Everyone knew cavalry ruled the plains. Despite their numbers, Kujoa's infantry could do little against Ranger. They held for just fifteen minutes before breaking.

A few officers rallied their men and formed spiked islands, but the enemy didn't have to get in close to kill. When they noticed the enemy islands forming, they pulled back to range, dismounted, unshouldered their muskets, and pelted the enemy from a safe distance. Shiksan infantrymen and cannoneers alike, despite their best efforts and valiant pledges to drag the enemy down with them, bled and died with little success.

The men held out as best they could and sent out their own pleas for rescue. Those pleas arrived at their comrades on the riverbank in the middle of that afternoon, too late for them to do anything. The endeavour had been doomed before the battle had even started. It would take six days to send reinforcement to them, and they would be dead by nightfall.

Another corps fell thusly. Another 40 thousand were captured and sent off to labour. Ranger came off worse for wear this time. They lost a line's worth of men. Luckily only a thousand were permanent. Most were just temporarily out of action.

While Ranger had been given the green light to expand, they kept their folk structure throughout their battles against the two Shiksan corps as the recruits from the Aueran mainland hadn't arrived on Nubissia. Miselk had been fighting with a severe disadvantage. First, he used the defensive strongholds to bait the enemy into his trap before attacking the rear camp of the enemy with light cavalry and trapped the rest of the enemy forces in a place without a water source. He made the rest of Tanya despair with the last few heavily defended strongholds and forced them into surrender.

After eliminating Tanya, the other three standing corps were attracted and drawn away, leaving Kujoa alone at the westernmost part of Balingana. Ranger then took advantage of Dorinibla River's waterways to transport themselves to the west of Balingana and relied on their mobility to silently encircle Kujoa before going in for a sudden attack, instantly crushing enemy resistance and eliminating them whole.

The two standing corps' downfall gave the three remaining corps a false impression that they had fallen into an Aueran trap. The reason they were unobstructed through Cromwell and Balingana was so that they could be baited in. So, Wicklan, Cybok and Faybort decided to stay united and not split off like they had before so as to not let the enemy have any more chances to break them apart.

It was at that time when they received word from the rear that almost all their supply lines and convoys had been attacked. Not a single shipment was being made to the three standing corps at the frontlines. After some discussion, the three corps sent out a combat folk to secure their supply line at the rear, but it was then attacked by Ranger on the march.

The combat folk had two light-cavalry lines, but they weren't a match for the cavalrymen of Ranger. After much difficulty, the Shiksan cavalrymen managed to break out of encirclement and ran back to the main camp of the three corps to report their encounter. The rest of the folk ended up swallowed by Ranger.

The encounter of the folk further convinced the high-ranking officers of the three Shiksan corps that they were in fact heavily encircled. Furthermore, none of the scouts they sent out ever returned. Some of their men also noticed enemy light cavalrymen spying on their main camp not far away. Traces of the cavalrymen could be seen from time to time.

Fortunately, the three corps brought with them a month's worth of supplies. They could make them last longer if they rationed them properly. They weren't willing to leave Dorinibla River in hopes that Seaking could break into the river and deliver the supplies they needed and also take them across it into the heartland of the Aueran colonies.

As long as they could cross the river and establish defences there, the Aueran defenders in Balingana would be cut off from the rest of the colonies. They would have no other option but to surrender. All strategists of the three corps agreed that their only choice to turn things around was to cross the river, given that the enemy had surrounded the three sides of their camp.

Chapter 352 - Battle of Balingana (2)

War in this era was like playing chess. The biggest mistake Shiks made was to pick a fight with the champion of the previous competition whilst having not contested a match in decades. They were naturally defeated. They refused to surrender, however -- the spoil sports -- and pushed back. They went in nearly triple or nothing, and got nothing.

Confidence is not the same as ability.

Shiks may have believed they could use five corps to take all seven Aueran colonies. But they had no way of dealing with Ranger and got a wake-up slap instead. Two more corps were wiped out even faster than the first two. Faced with such a loss again, they became deeply doubtful of their ability and that of their enemy.

Their scouts rarely made it back alive and those that did didn't ever have new information. Their informants in the enemy capital were luckier, however. They brought information regarding the force that had dealt them two serious defeats. They were apparently a new mobility-focused force under the direct command of the king. They were called Ranger. They had been just a folk when they'd arrived on Nubissia, but had since been expanded to a full corps. They'd also overseen the formation of two new colonial corps.

The Shiksan corps hadn't bothered to learn anything about their enemy before marching across the border. It had cost them dearly. Their wargames had assumed Ranger could be worth no more than a corps, at best. They'd instead worried more about the two new colonial corps. They'd believed that even with the three corps, they'd still be woefully short of a fair fight. Their initial breeze through Cromwell had seemed to confirm their suspicions. They'd paid with Tanya and Kujoa for their arrogance.

Wicklan, Cybok, and Faybort looked into the reports they had received on Ranger before the campaign and finally realised how badly they'd underestimated the corps. They'd beaten even the royal guard, which had centuries of history behind them, even before they'd gained any actual combat experience themselves.

If they were the royal guard's equals at least, then they were more than a match for the two now-extinct corps. Shiks had not considered them a serious threat, however, and they had realised their mistake too late for Tanya and Kujoa.

Although the realisation brought several new problems to light, the remaining corps' commanders breathed sighs of relief. It was better to know your enemy was a worse threat than you'd thought than to remain blissfully ignorant of their true strength. One good thing their realisation told them, however, was that the enemy had won thanks to their numbers and battle strength, both of which were now severely reduced thanks to their losses. Not enough to make them an easy fight, but enough that, if the three corps stuck together, they would be no more than an equal.

Wicklan, Cybok, and Faybort had no choice but to nestle together on the bank of Dorinibla. They could not push through the river while the enemy remained on the opposite bank, however, and so they sat in a stalemate.

When their supply convoys from the rear were attacked and unable to deliver information to the main camp, they sent out a combat folk to counter Ranger, but only a few hundred light cavalrymen returned. When the enemy light cavalry showed up near their camp, they finally realised they'd been led into yet another trap.

The wisest choice was to retreat. If they watched each other's back, they could pull back to Wickhamsburg. If they could make it safely behind the port city's walls, they could plan their next move carefully.

No one dared suggest a retreat, however. Whosoever proposed such a humiliating move after they'd already had to do that once at the hands of the same force, would be committing career suicide. No ambitious man valued anything higher than his career, and so no man was willing to sacrifice his career for this. And this was if all they were to suffer was the death of their career. If the grand strategists back in Shiks decided they'd misjudged the situation and ordered an unnecessary retreat, they'd lose far more than their career, and they'd not be the only ones to suffer for it. Their entire family might be kicked out of the nobility, and they might even end up in a labour camp or in the gallows.

They'd rather wait for the enemy to attack and hope to fight their way out, even if it meant they had to lose half or more of their men. A glorious fight out of a desperate situation would vindicate their courage and turn a cowardly retreat into the miracle work of a brave warrior and keen leader of men.

Their enemy refused to oblige them, however. They appeared content to stare at them over the river. That couldn't be allowed. Command decided they would send out smaller units to bait Ranger into attacking and slowly increase their numbers to escalate the engagement into a full battle. Ranger didn't fall for it, however. Command convened once more to discuss the matter. They couldn't send their troops too far from camp. There was little point in throwing away their manpower if it wouldn't get them a grand battle.

They decided to send out a light-cavalry line to clear out the annoying scouts. Unfortunately, the moment their cavalry chased the scouts a little further away than they had planned, more scouts popped out of nowhere and cut off their retreat.

Had the main Shiksan force not immediately sent out another unit to rescue the half of their men still alive at that point, they would have lost all four thousand. The moment the enemy light cavalry noticed more enemies coming, they let the surrounded cavalry go.

Command could do nothing but count the seconds to their doom. They knew better than anyone that even though their supplies could last a month, or more if they started rationing them immediately, they could do nothing once they ran out.

They had tried sending out forces to re-establish their supply line but the minor force was attacked and ambushed by the enemy. The three corps could conduct a united retreat, but none of the officers was willing to take responsibility for that. In their dilemma, one strategist came up with a complete and ingenious plan. According to his analysis, Ranger and the other colonial corps had men hidden all around the three Shiksan corps to monitor their camp. Given the camp's tight defences, the enemy didn't have an opportunity to attack, so the two sides ended up in a stalemate.

Since Ranger and the colonial corps were in Balingana, that meant that the other side of Dorinibla River, Robisto, wouldn't be that strongly defended. In fact, it might just be hollow. It was entirely possible that the other Aueran colonial corps that had suffered quite a few casualties were stationed there to defend it.

In other words, if the three Shiksan corps could cross the river, they would regain the initiative on the battlefield. They could block the Aueran forces on the other, more desolate side of the river and the three corps would be free to roam the other Aueran colonies and occupy them completely.

As for Ranger and the colonial corps, they wouldn't be able to gain logistical support from the rear within Balingana due to their own scorched-earth tactics. As long as the three Shiksan corps could cross the river and cut off their enemy's supply line from Robisto, the enemy would be left with no choice but to surrender.

It was a plan that could turn the whole situation around and give the Shiksan corps a chance to play an active role on the battlefield instead of passively watching the enemy scouts from their camp without being able to attack. There was only one problem: how would they take three corps across the river?

Dorinibla River was the largest river on Nubissia. The widest parts could be as far as two kilometres and the narrowest parts were 600 metres apart. On average, the width of the river was one kilometre. Unfortunately, the opposite bank of the point at which the three corps set up camp was 1.6 kilometres away and the current was strong. If the Shiksans wanted to make floating bridges to cross, they would have to look for a better crossing point.

The downside to doing that was it was entirely possible for Ranger to notice their intentions and make preparations for them on the other side of the river. They could even cross first to set up an ambush and attack them mid-crossing. Doing so would completely derail the three corps' plans and they would fail horribly instead of managing to make the crossing.

The ideal method was to keep the three corps untouched to mislead Ranger. They would leave Seaking in charge of bringing them across. If Seaking was deployed in full force, it would be able to breach the defences of Port Patres at the point Dorinibla River connected to the ocean. That way, Seaking could sail against the river's flow to where the three corps were camped and easily transport them across.

Not only would that be beyond the enemy's expectations, Seaking could also seal up the river and prevent Ranger and the colonial corps from crossing it to reinforce the rest of the Aueran forces on the other side.

That was the best plan they could come up with thus far. The deciding factor of their success or failure in this colonial war was whether Seaking could breach the lockdown enacted by Port Patres. The officers also knew that if they went with the plan, Seaking would bear full responsibility.

If this battle failed, Seaking would be held accountable for it. If they couldn't breach Port Patres to clear the river mouth, what would be the point of all the investments in the fleet?

The three brave corps of the kingdom, Wicklan, Cybok and Faybort, hadn't yielded against the terrifying enemy that wiped out Kujoa and Tanya and kept on fighting regardless of their casualties and ended up in a stalemate. However, they saw a ray of hope for victory in their new plan. If Seaking refused to take part in it, they wouldn't be able to turn things around. In that case, it was clear who bore the most responsibility for the loss of the battle. The Shiksan officers from the three corps wouldn't be blamed for it at all.

And so, in the eagle message they sent to Seaking at Port Vebator containing their plan, the high-ranking officers stressed the importance and urgency of the operation. Then, they sealed the doors of their campsite and no longer launched any attacks as they waited for Seaking's arrival.

During the 1st month of Year 587 of the Sacred Light Era, Balingana got a rare and brief respite from war, as if it was celebrating the coming of the new year. Even though it was the frontlines of the war, little to no gunshots could be heard.

Chapter 353 - Battle of Balingana (3)

Claude made a long sigh and looked at the majestic Wickhamsburg from afar.

It was the 8th of the 2nd month of Year 587. After a long march that lasted more than ten days, Line 131's light cavalry tribe arrived at Cromwell's capital, Wickhamsburg, and hid themselves in the snowy wilderness not far away.

"Sir, according to our scouts, Wickhamsburg is defended by two enemy lines. One of them is the logistics line left here by Cybok in charge of supply transportation. The other is a garrison line from the Shiksan colonial forces who are put in charge of guard duty." Berklin, who had arrived earlier than the rest, made his report.

"Due to the massacre that took place during the 11th month, there are no more nikancha in the slums, so we're unable to infiltrate them.

"As the supply line has constantly been attacked, Wickhamsburg has stopped all shipments to the town of Bullhunt in Balingana. The current supply frequency to Port Vebator is twice a month. Once, I disguised myself as a lost traveller to infiltrate one of the convoys and heard from the coachman that Port Vebator's supplies are running out. Most of them have been transported to Wickhamsburg."

Claude pulled the robes on him tighter. The winter of Nubissia was far too cold. Even during the 2nd month, when the snow had begun to melt, he could still feel the chill burrowing itself through his clothes. Even with long fur pants, gloves, boots and a thick robe, standing outside for the slightest amount of time made his body jitter. Though, it didn't help that he had braved the cold winds on his way there for quite a number of hours. Riding a horse in that weather was nothing but suffering.

He stomped his feet and cursed. It simply wasn't the time to attack Wickhamsburg and sabotage its supplies in weather like this. However, orders were absolute. Miselk had personally written him an order and requested for the destruction of all enemy supplies at the end of the 2nd month so that they would lose their last bastion to end the four-month-long war.

Since the war started at the end of the 10th month last year, Claude's Line 131 had cut off enemy supply routes completely according to plan, making it so that supplies at the rear couldn't be sent to the frontlines. Even when the enemy sent out a whole line of troops as escort for the supply convoy, they were still wiped out. Either they were completely exterminated or they turned tail to run. As for the supplies, they were either appropriated for Ranger's use or burned up and destroyed. At the very least, Claude's line had gotten more than 200 new carriages picked from the finest among their spoils.

Miselk led the folk and the 1st Colonial Corps to wipe out Tanya and Kujoa, but Claude didn't participate in those battles. At that time, he was busy attacking the Shiksan supply convoys all over and accumulated a huge amount of supplies and food. Those that he had transported to the rear could supply Ranger folk and the colonial corps for up to half a year, which greatly decreased the pressure of having to procure supplies from Robisto on the other side of the river. It was a huge military achievement.

During the 12th month, the enemy learned their lesson and no longer sent only one tribe to defend their supply convoys, choosing to send a keeper line instead. Regardless, Claude gathered four tribes and landed one attack after another before completely crushing them. He took control of the foremost supply base in Balingana, the town of Lokid, and burned the town formerly famous for leather production down to the ground.

Ever since then, the Shiksans knew that they wouldn't be able to count on themselves to protect their supply convoys. All they could do was to fortify their supply towns and hope that the standing corps would send forces to them for escorts. Regrettably, the three remaining standing corps couldn't even protect themselves. They sent out a whole folk as a supply escort but even then they were consumed by Ranger whole.

A huge snowstorm raged on during the 1st month of the new year. Wicklan, Faybort and Cybok huddled by Dorinibla River to keep warm and refused to move. The supply bases in the towns no longer bothered trying to send them any resources and did nothing but defend themselves. All Line 131 could do was endure the cold winds in the wilderness of Balingana. Claude was so pissed that he wanted to conquer a town to stay out of the cold.

However, during the middle of the 1st month, Claude received an order from Miselk to burn up the supply stores within Wickhamsburg by the end of the 2nd month.

It wasn't something impossible to do. In fact, last year when the evacuation of Wickhamsburg was carried out, Claude was ordered to have a secret underground tunnel dug to connect the city to the outside just in case.

When the five Shiksan corps first set foot in Wickhamsburg, they decided to use that place as a supply hub to store the goods they received in Port Vebator. Even though Line 131 had successfully managed to cut off the enemy supply lines to the frontlines, Miselk had to prevent the war from dragging on if the three corps suddenly decided to retreat to Wickhamsburg. That would further delay the end of the war.

"Sir, we can mobilise the whole line to conquer Wickhamsburg. Why are we only burning up their supply warehouses? Their stocked-up supplies are worth a lot. We'll make it big if we are able to take them," Berklin said.

Claude shook his head. "Burning the supplies up serves to eliminate all hope the enemy has. If we conquer Wickhamsburg and take the supplies, we'll have lost the initiative on the battlefield and put ourselves in the light. We can do naught but await enemy attack under those circumstances. In other words, we'd be trading our mobility for the supplies and would have no choice but to engage the enemy to protect them too.

"While the supplies are indeed worth a lot, they aren't something we urgently need. The enemy captives have told us that they have nothing but food, winter clothing, ammunition, daily necessities and some luxuries for high-ranking officers to enjoy. Only the wine and high-class ingredients are of use to us and I believe it isn't worth trading the lives of our men for them.

"We have enough food and winter clothing, and their ammunition doesn't work with our weapons. If we conquer Wickhamsburg and keep the supplies, we can indeed sell them for a good sum after the war, but that will keep the enemy's hope burning. Before they run out of supplies, they'll definitely mount a desperate attack on Wickhamsburg to take it back.

"It isn't hard to figure out once you think about it. Our folk isn't able to stop the three corps if they want to retreat. It would take a month or so to march from Dorinibla River to this place. I'm sure the enemy supplies at the frontlines will have run out by then. Even if we have Wickhamsburg in our control, that doesn't change the fact that it's the enemy's only ticket to survival. Do you think our line will be able to resist the attack of up to 200 thousand enemies?

"Alternatively, if we burn down the supplies in Wickhamsburg, even if the three corps of the enemy choose to retreat, they'll despair when they find their goods turned to ash. That way, they'd have no more drive to fight. Hungry and without food, they will obediently surrender to us. General Miselk thinks the supplies are a small price to pay for the downfall of three enemy corps, understood?"

There were times Claude had no choice but to break down the strategic aims of their unit to his aides. He hoped that they would mature and grow quickly from that. Sometimes, being promoted too quickly wasn't a good thing. Berklin, for instance, was now a major and tribesman of the ligh-cavalry tribe. While he was rather good at tactics, his grasp of the bigger picture was poor. He would be easily misguided by what appeared to be on the surface. Otherwise, he wouldn't have suggested an attack on Wickhamsburg. While it sounded like he lusted after its wealth, it wasn't the case. Rather, his recent successful attacks on the enemy supply convoys bolstered his pride and caused him to look down on his enemies.

"I understand, Sir," Berklin said with embarrassment. Myjack, Bloweyk and a few other adjutants of Claude's aides nodded alongside.

"Alright, now we have to think of a way to approach the city," Claude said with a smile, before furrowing his brow. "I knew we shouldn't have dug the exit of the path at the moat. We should've endured it a bit longer and tunneled through further..."

The secret passageway they dug ended at the outer moat of Wickhamsburg, which was quite hard for the enemy to detect. The issue was snow piled up as tall as a foot there and it was the melting period. While it looked white on the surface, it was actually a muddy sludge. It wouldn't be difficult for any enemy from the walls to detect signs of infiltration left behind in the mud.

Just as Claude and the rest were racking their brains over how to infiltrate the city to bring them pandemonium, Seaking, on which Wicklan, Cybok and Faybort were counting, finally arrived in the waters near Port Patres. They began their assault without delay.

The bombardment lasted for three days and nights. They fired from a distance during the day and closed in during the nights, managing to level nearly the whole of Port Patres. It was the largest naval attack the port city had ever faced. The near hundred ships of Seaking reduced most of Port Patres to rubble, but the emphasis was on the word 'most'. There were still some eight sentry cannons launching counterattacks against Seaking.

47 ships of Seaking had to return to Port Vebator to repairs and 21 were sunk in the nearby waters. However, the destruction of the cannon formations in the port city was a huge victory for Shiks. Now, Dorinibla River was free to enter. Seaking sent their remaining 32 warships and the 50-odd transport ships they took along upstream towards the campsite of the three corps.

What Seaking didn't expect were the metal chains Miselk prepared to block the river off. The heavy cannons along the riverbank fired back at the enemy and sunk three transport ships and one warship in the first barrage.

Seaking, taken aback, was only able to start their counterattack after suffering heavy losses. But by then, Ranger had gathered most of their field-infantry cannons to the point of conflict to add to the barrage. While the fist-sized rounds of the infantry cannons weren't able to damage the ships much, the heated cannonballs were successfully able to set the deck and sails of the ships alight. They still posed a huge threat to the marines and crew.

As more and more of the ships returned fire, the numbers of Seaking started dwindling. One warship after another was struck and started their slow sink into the depths. The river was littered with marines who abandoned ship, but the cold weather of the 2nd month and chilly river waters caused many of them to sink and never resurface again.

The river bombardment on the 12th of the 2nd month was among the worst defeats Seaking ever had to suffer. They weren't defeated on open seas by an enemy naval force. Instead, they were ambushed by ground forces of the enemy within a river inland using heavy and light field cannons. Only eight warships and eleven transport ships were able to escape and return to Port Vebator.

The counterattack from Port Patres and the battle on Dorinibla River was hugely damaging for Seaking. While they had some fifty ships remaining, most were damaged and couldn't even return to Shiks without proper repairs. In the next year and a half, no ships flying the flag of Shiks could be seen.

After hearing about the terrible state of their navy, the three Shiksan corps no longer hesitated and began their retreat towards Wickhamsburg in Cromwell. Ranger didn't stop their retreat and merely conquered the three supply points and emptied them of resources so that the enemy wouldn't get any respite.

On the 25th of the 2nd month, Claude personally led a tent of elite soldiers dressed in Shiksan military wear to enter Wickhamsburg when the enemy guard was low. During midnight, they set fire to the warehouses in the city. As the fire burned bright and the enemy fell into chaos, Claude took his men with him to open the city gates. Line 131, already prepared, stormed the city and crushed the fallen enemy and managed to conquer it.

The next day, even more warehouses were burned up. Line 131 escorted the captives and left Wickhamsburg with hundreds of supply-filled carriages. The fire burned for two more days and reduced Wickhamsburg into rubble.

On the 10th of the 3rd month, the rainy season came. Amidst the heavy rains, the three Shiksan corps continued their march and finally reached Wickhamsburg on the 28th day of their long journey. They saw only ruins of ash and cinders.

The hungry and desperate Shiksan soldiers finally despaired. They weren't able to last the half month they needed to continue their march to Port Vebator. The officers' mounts and the leather equipment they had were already consumed.

When Ranger's banner appeared before their eyes, all Shiksans dropped their weapons and surrendered.

Chapter 354 - The General's Mistake

A drizzle fell gently outside.

How had he come up with that plan? Stealing the supplies and setting their warehouses on fire? It was hardly an orthodox strategy. Miselk asked himself, sitting in his tent.

His smile was broad and his gait jovial.

The near 180 thousand troops of the three Shiksan corps had surrendered peacefully, their spirits broken by the loss of their supplies, and with it any chance of holding out more than a couple of days.

It was a giant relief for the general. It would no doubt be the crowning achievement of his career. He did not see how he could outdo taking a regional capital defended by 3 corps without losing a single drop of blood whilst capturing those same corps completely intact. This was worse than a humiliating defeat for Shiks, it was a debilitating one. They'd lost a second flotilla and another 5 corps after their first defeat. Even for them, this had to quickly be becoming too much to bear.

Miselk didn't care much about what their reaction would be, however. For now he just wanted to bask in the glorious afterglow of victory. The feeling only lasted a couple moments, however. He had not become a general on the backs of others. His mind was sharp and it immediately informed him of something he'd neglected to consider so far and the reminder gave him an immediate headache. They'd captured 180 thousand men, all hungry and thirsty.

Whilst the men could not win a fight, they could do more than a little damage if they struck out in desperation, even unarmed. Even if they just sat there and died, it would still be a serious problem. His glory would be wiped out by the shame of his inability to care for his captives.

Killing an enemy actively fighting against you was fine, but letting captives die was a disgrace. It would be less of a disgrace to kill them if they rose up, but the shame of being unable to keep them from rising up in the first place would be just as bad. The consequences of their deaths would be greater than just shame as well. Their deaths would disgrace the kingdom, and the king and the two councils would come down on him like so many cannonballs.

He suddenly regretted ordering the city burnt. They'd destroyed the only shelter large enough to house their captives within reach. With the city's destruction they also didn't have the facilities to cook and otherwise prepare food for the men even if they had the rations. The best he could do was dole out severely rationed dried food. Otherwise their only option was hope and prayer.

Myjack brought Claude's report shortly after.

Claude had set up a large camp five kilometres outside the city. It was just large enough to handle the 180 thousand captives and Ranger, under less than ideal conditions, but far better than any other option, for the rainy season. He'd also taken the liberty of preparing some food for them. It was just simple sailor's porridge -- cooked hard tacs with salt and an afterthought of scrounged roots and wild vegetables -- but it was better than nothing, and the heat would be welcome reprieve from the cold and wet.

Miselk's face nearly split in half and he had his men marching before he'd even gotten out of the tent. He had a hot bath as soon as he set foot in the camp before calling for Claude.

"How on earth did you know to set up a camp?"

The words were out of the general's mouth as Claude's foot hit the ground inside the tent, half his body still outside. He had many other questions, but this one burnt the hottest in his throat.

Claude came to attention.

"Actually, I was forced to..."

They'd been forced to find an alternative way out of the city after realising that the secret entrance they'd used to get into the city couldn't be used to get out without being discovered. They couldn't get out once they set the warehouses on fire. They'd be discovered and caught.

Even if they made it to the passage, they would not make it out before the blaze alerted the city's defenders. They'd be on the lookout for any sign of someone trying to leave the city, and they would no doubt be discovered and shot as they pulled away from the city walls.

So, he recalled Berklin's words about burning the supplies being a waste. The city was defended by just two lines. They could take it. If they could hold on to the city, they could keep the supplies.

Claude was against the suggestion at first, but it made more sense the more he thought about it. They didn't have to leave the same way they'd come, so couldn't they just sneak in, open the gates, and let the rest of the line in? It would certainly make burning the warehouses easier.

He decided to give it a go and send off his contingent of eagles to call on the rest of the line's combat contingent. That was why he'd delayed the operation.

Since they weren't going to escape right after setting the fire, Claude and his men dressed in Shiksan uniforms, set the fires, and threw all the enemies into turmoil by rushing them to put out the fires. At the same time, they ordered the patrolmen by the gates to help out, drawing them away.

Claude climbed to the battlements on top of the walls and cleared out the lookouts. They opened the gate and gave the signal for the rest of the line to storm through. The line rushed the enemy headquarters and main barracks, killing anyone who resisted and forcing the majority to surrender. They had the city by sunrise along with 7 thousand captives.

They'd spared the supplies. They could always burn them later if they were forced to abandon the city for some reason. As Line 131 had cut off the supply routes of the enemy, there was no way for any of the supplies to be delivered to the three Shiksan corps, so the supplies piled up in Wickhamsburg alongside the six hundred carriages they left in the main square as well as the two thousand horses in the stables.

There was no need for any other consideration. They took anything they could. Lien 131's men supervised the seven thousand captives as they loaded the carriages with supplies. After that, each captive was given carrying poles or large sacks filled with supplies and marched away. Only after all that was done were the warehouses burned down.

Claude had prioritised moving away food, clothes, medicines and other supplies they might need without taking the ammunition and weapons that were incompatible with Aueran ones. Not long after the fires were set, explosions rang out and Wickhamsburg was reduced to rubble.

After travelling a few kilometres away from the city, the captive laborers were worn out and begged to be allowed to rest. Line 131's men thought the captives were intentionally trying to delay their march and prepared to give them harsh punishment.

When Claude took note of that, he stopped them and asked why they were going to punish the captives. The soldiers replied that the captives were probably intentionally delaying their progress so that enemy reinforcements could come to save them.

It finally clicked in Claude's mind and he broke out laughing. Why would he need to leave in such a hurry with Line 131 in the first place? It was no wonder he felt something was off when he left Wickhamsburg. In fact, he was actually afraid of pursuing enemy soldiers. Having near 800 carriages loaded with supplies made him feel like a thief who was afraid of losing those supplies to the enemy again.

However, it didn't occur that the enemy no longer had any men to chase them down. Shiks sent five standing corps to Nubissia. With Kujoa and Tanya eliminated, Wicklan, Cybok and Faybort began to rush back after receiving word of Seaking's defeat and were already halfway to Wickhamsburg.

Ranger had already captured thousands of Shiksan soldiers. According to the captives, the three corps were really tight on supplies. Apart from officers, who were given more food, the grunts were only fed a bowl of gruel a day. They even had to kill their work horses to make meat soup.

There was no need for Line 131 to leave in such a hurry. They had just wiped out two enemy lines. There was no other large force close enough to do anything to them. Instead, the faster they returned to join Ranger's main force, the faster they would encounter the three enemy corps.

The corps were heading for Wickhamsburg and Ranger's main force was tailing them from behind. For Line 131 to join up with the rest of the corps they had to head straight through the enemy. Claude was marching his men to their deaths for nothing.

Upon realising his mistake, he immediately ordered his men to stop and rest before sending out light-cavalry scouts to survey the area. When they returned, the whole group immediately turned away from the projected route the Shiksan corps would use and headed for the highlands behind Wickhamsburg. They set up camp after finding a good water source and were prepared to wait out the rest of the war.

As Claude waited, he made more accurate projections of the enemy's journey and found that by the time they reached Wickhamsburg, they would completely run out of resources. The city was now in ruins and the enemy would definitely despair. They had no other option but to surrender.

Checking the dates, he found that it would be around the rainy season then. There was no need to speculate any further. The results of the war had been set. Ranger would soon have near 200 thousand men captive. The thought of the captives reminded him about the fact that Ranger was travelling lightly to tail the enemy corps and await their surrender.

Therein lay the problem: what would they feed all 200 thousand captives with? Claude knew that Ranger only carried around a week's worth of food. With the captives eating away at their supplies, they might not last longer than four days.

The Ranger folk only numbered some 30 thousand men. With an additional 200 thousand captives, the most they could do was provide them with one full meal each day, or once every two days if they want to stretch it out. Even after more food was delivered through their supply lines, Ranger wouldn't be able to sustain that kind of consumption as the shipments were calculated based on the amount needed by Ranger. They had never expected to take 200 thousand men captive, so they couldn't have prepared that food in advance.

The moment Claude set his gaze on the 800 carriages of supplies, he burst out laughing. he ordered his men to get the seven thousand captives to begin work on a campsite immediately to accommodate more than 200 thousand men. It was finally completed right before the rainy season in the 3rd month. They also prepared enough firewood to last them.

As their carrier eagle had yet to return after Claude used it to send a report about the spoils he reaped from the burning of Wickhamsburg, he wasn't able to notify Miselk about their campsite. He had no choice but to send a scout tent to the area near the city. After some wait, they finally met up with the rest of Ranger and the 180 thousand captives from the three corps to solve their food and medicine crisis.

After hearing Claude's explanation, Miselk burst out laughing. He happily patted Claude on the shoulder. "Your growth has truly surprised me. I mean it. Claude, you're a born soldier and the battlefield is the only place you can live to your fullest potential. Back then, you were a great commander, but now, you've finally embarked on your journey to becoming an outstanding military leader.

"Being able to anticipate and consider the big picture in the long term and the changes that might ensue is a fundamental skill every military leader has to grasp. You have truly helped me out greatly this time around and made up for the mistake I committed out of insufficient consideration. You have once more contributed greatly to Ranger, and by extension, the kingdom! Thank you, Claude. I had been so occupied with making the three Shiksan corps surrender that I had completely missed out on the burden it would put on us to take them captive. It truly was a grave mistake I made."

Claude hurriedly spewed a few polite lines and took his leave when he saw how worn out the general was.

'Triumph of Balingana! All Five Shiksan Standing Corps -- Eliminated! Seaking Fleet Crippled!'

When news of the victory was sent back to the kingdom's mainland, all of Aueras was shaken. It was a complete and utterly unexpected victory. General Miselk was hailed as the war god of the kingdom. Even though he admitted in his report that he had almost let the captives starve to death due to his mistake, that didn't dull the glory of defeating 300 thousand enemy soldiers with a mere folk of troops!

It was a miraculous battle forever to be chronicled in the history of the world of Faslan. General Miselk's reputation spread far and wide and was acknowledged unanimously by military historians in future generations.

Chapter 355 - State of Turmoil

Aueras celebrated after receiving the news from Nubissia for up to a month. It was a victory they hadn't expected. During the 10th month last year when news first broke about Shiks sending five standing corps to attack Cromwell, the Auerans felt rather down and hopeless about the whole situation. They believed that they would be losing a few of the kingdom's colonies at least.

Yet, Ranger achieved an unexpected victory. Even though they had been raised from folk to corps status, there wasn't enough time to transport new recruits or equipment from the mainland to the colonies. Ranger was fighting enemies ten times their number. Even with the help of two colonial corps, people knew how much help the new corps ultimately amounted to. While they could serve defensive duties, they would be no better than cannon fodder for offensive operations.

When word of the triumph first arrived, most thought it was but a wild rumour. It sounded like a miracle for Ranger to have defeated five corps of 300 thousand men and even take out Seaking. It was simply too hard to fathom, let alone believe. However, the ministry of the army and the House of Dignitarians corroborated the news and immediately put the kingdom in a celebratory mood.

Perhaps the victory had come as too much of a surprise, or it could be because the prime minister, Duke Cryus Man Duncan was too worried for the bedridden Stellin X's health, the proceedings went on slowly. They only sent a response a month later. The kingdom once more sent an ambassador to Shiks to seek a resolution on the matter of Nubissian colonies and sign a peace treaty.

However, now that Aueras was the victor, they no longer had the intention to give Cromwell away. Instead, not asking Shiks to pay reparations for war damages was already gracious enough on their part. After all, Shiks had lost seven out of their fifteen standing corps. The kingdom's ambassador believed that following this painful lesson, Shiks should agree to their peace terms.

If Shiks were to attack Aueras on Freia, it would have to send its armies through three different kingdoms, namely, Nasri, Bleyotte and Mambamark. But after word of Aueras' triumph spread, the ambassador was warmly welcomed. Even their archnemesis, Nasri, expressed heartfelt respect and congratulatory sentiments.

The ambassador hadn't expected he would be forbidden from entering the kingdom by a soldier during his glorious arrival. Even though he repeatedly highlighted his status and mission, the tentsman dared refuse him entry.

He initially thought a mere officer was intentionally trying to mess with him and said he would complain to his superiors about it, but the officer merely stared at him for a moment before conversing with a nearby subordinate, who quickly retrieved a notice from the wooden building behind them.

It was a missive from the capital. It instructed the officer to deny the ambassador entry to the kingdom.

The ambassador almost collapsed from a heart attack. It was pure insult to both the kingdom and him. He had never imagined Shiks would actually throw diplomatic protocols out of the window and forbid an ambassador from entering the kingdom. It was unprecedented on Freia, but that also meant that Shiks had closed all doors of negotiation with Aueras and would remain their nemesis.

Having nobody to complain to, the ambassador feigned illness on the return trip. He was so humiliated he couldn't face anybody else. It took around half a month for him to return. When he reported what happened, the high officials of Aueras were livid. It was so ludicrous that the ministry of the army issued the order for Ranger to conquer Port Vebator, the only working Shiksan port on Nubissia, immediately to cut off Shiks from their colonies once and for all.

By the time the order reached Ranger, two months had passed. Miselk and Ranger set off for Port Vebator. Just as they were about to enter the colony when they were at the border of Cromwell, they were shocked to find Canasian light cavalrymen patrolling the borders.

What in the world was happening? Miselk ordered his men to set up camp and not make any harsh moves. He then sent a representative to ask the cavalrymen why they were in Port Vebator and whether Canas had any intention of declaring war against Aueras.

The Canasian cavalrymen denied being part of the duchy's army and called themselves mercenaries. They said they had been hired by Shiks to protect the border. They also proclaimed that their honour and sense of duties as mercenaries compelled them to resist Ranger's invasion to no end despite knowing they wouldn't be their match.

Only a fool would believe their claims, however. They were armed with Canas standard-issue gear and even wore Canasian uniforms! They even had a properly set up defence line! It definitely wasn't something normal mercenaries could achieve. It was the obvious work of elite soldiers who had experienced the five-year war.

Miselk realised that he had made a huge mistake. He had been busy settling the 300 thousand captives of Shiks down and integrating the recruits into Ranger during their expansion as well as handling the reconstruction of Port Patres' cannons in Robisto in the past half year.

As a result, he had neglected to pay attention to changes in Port Vebator. The Shiksan colony was low-hanging fruit for Ranger which they could pick with ease. However, they were ordered not to attack it to not further anger Shiks in hopes of reaching a peace settlement. Little did they know that an elite Canasian unit would show up on Nubissia all of a sudden.

In Miselk's predictions, Shiks wouldn't be able to recover within a year and a half after all they have lost. Even if they wanted to send more troops to Nubissia, they wouldn't have enough ships for that effort.

Initially, word of the kingdom's ambassador travelling to Shiks had been sent. Due to their victory in Balingana, they were confident the two nations could end the colonial conflict and achieve peace.

However, Shiks turned their embarrassment into anger and ignored all diplomatic convention by refusing the Aueran ambassador entry. Not only did that close doors for the negotiations, that also meant they would continue fighting it out with Aueras on Nubissia.

So, Miselk immediately gathered the corps and set out for Port Vebator after receiving orders to conquer it. He had thought they'd have no trouble taking the place which was defended only by a line of troops. If they were lucky, they'd even be able to pocket a few ships of Seaking that were being repaired. Nobody expected an elite Canasian unit would be deployed at the borders of Port Vebator, however, one that set up a proper defence line no less.

Since the situation was off, Miselk didn't give the order to attack and chose to set up camp and wait until the military intelligence officers found out what changes transpired in the Shiksan colony.

The intelligence officers found two secret reports sent from Port Vebator dated two months ago that stated that the allied navy of Nasri and Canas sent over one standing Canasian light-cavalry corps and one Nasrian standing corps to defend Port Vebator. The forces of Canas then rushed to the border.

The report was made two months ago, yet everyone missed out on it. It was a huge blunder. Miselk was greatly enraged, but the window of opportunity had closed. They would no longer be able to accomplish their task of conquering Port Vebator.

If the ones blocking their way were two Shiksan standing corps, Miselk wouldn't hesitate to attack them with Ranger. No matter how trained or brave their soldiers, Miselk was confident he could use their precision-firing muskets and advanced tactics to suppress them. He could obtain victory by paying only a small price even when they had to face twice their number.

However, these were Nasrian and Canasian standing corps, and they were way different. They were sworn enemies of Aueras who also participated in the five-year war that raged on in Eastern Freia. While they were the losers of that war, they gained lots of experience facing off against Aueran troops. They were the hardest foes to deal with, especially when they fought defensively. Even if Aueras could win, their victory would be pyrrhic at best.

Miselk had no choice but to report to the kingdom that the best Ranger could do was be ready for an enemy attack to prevent being the one to instigate war in Eastern Freia once more three short years after the peace treaty was signed. The kingdom wouldn't benefit the slightest from another war.

The royal capital received Miselk's report a month later. After being informed about the Nasrian and Canasian troops and the defence line in Port Vebator that prevented Ranger from carrying out their mission, the officials were dumbfounded. Nobody understood what was going on. A few days of discussion later, they decided to send an ambassador to question those two nations about whether they were trying to restart the war.

Miselk only received a response from the royal capital after three long months of waiting. The authorities of those two nations all swore that they had never sent any reinforcements to the Shiksan colonies on Nubissia. Allegedly, they didn't even have colonies there themselves and weren't interested in the conflict going on there. They couldn't afford to send their men to interfere with the conflict either.

They proclaimed that their peace was hard won and they wouldn't dare do anything that might provoke Aueras' ire. Not to mention, their economies hadn't recovered from the five-year war and they had undergone demilitarisation on a large scale to decrease their military budget.

Some high-ranking officers in the military of those nations believe that it was likely that Shiksan agents had recruited the laid-off soldiers from the two nations to form mercenary corps to be sent to Nubissia. Since it was a civilian matter, it had nothing to do with either nation.

After listening to the excuses of the two nations, the angered ambassador of Aueras pointed out that Aueras had proof the allied navy of those two nations helped transport the troops to Nubissia. Additionally, the troops were using standard gear. How could those be explained?

However, the two nations excused themselves by saying that they weren't able to keep their navy running due to the bad economy, so they opted to let Shiks hire their fleet for three years in exchange for a huge sum to help their economies recover. There were even receipts for the agreement to prove it. Since the beginning of last year, the fleets of the allied navy were no longer under control of the governments of those two nations.

As for the gear, they explained Shiks had imported a large amount of military gear from them, which was probably used to arm the mercenary corps. On the other hand, the kingdoms laid off the soldiers due to financial constraints and let them keep their uniforms as a form of consolation.

While it was nothing short of humiliating, they had no choice but to let the Aueran ambassador know about it to ensure that there was no misunderstanding. It wasn't weird at all for laid-off veterans to willingly join private mercenary units.

The ambassador almost vomited blood from the sheer anger at those responses. The officials of Canas and Nasri were so shameless that they could even come up with renting the navy out as an excuse! The allied navy was greatly cherished by Canas and Nasri. It was the only thing that kept the waters of those two nations safe! Who would believe those two nations would actually rent it away for three years?

However, the receipts and agreements were there as proof. Now, the allied navy had nothing to do with the two nations and were under Shiksan management. The officials even feigned sympathy and said that they fully supported Aueras' effort to wipe those mercenaries out since they had nothing to do with the nations.

Apart from the official response from those nations, the ambassador also brought word from Shiks. A month or so ago, Shiks would form ten more standing corps and send them to Nubissia to continue the colonial conflict to the very end!

Chapter 356 - Military Budget Debacle

The news that Shiks wanted to form ten new corps and send them to Nubissia didn't bother Miselk that much. He knew ten corps couldn't be conjured up by words alone. Even if Shiks was a superpower in Northern Freia, it would take at least two or three years to do it.

Miselk had his strategists collect as much information as they could from Port Vebator and wrote to the ministry of defence to request their close attention on the progress made on the corps. He also personally surveyed Cromwell and Balingana in preparation for his own project; a never-before-seen fortification network specially designed to handle a Shiksan invasion.

The rest of the year was taken up by the project. Their reward finally arrived, stingy as it was thanks to the kingdom's economic struggles.

Miselk was one of the rare soldiers to not be disappointed with his reward. He'd defeated five corps despite his crippling disadvantages, and even crippled an entire flotilla. In recognition of his achievements, he was promoted to Lord Militant. He was only the 17th person in the kingdom's history to be granted the title. His Title was also upgraded from honorary to trigenerational, with a bundled manor in the capital.

Compared to the grand rewards the general received, the rest of the men were given mere pittances. The grunts were given a single crown, sergeants two, junior commissioned officers five, and field officers ten. Merits enough for promotion were also only doled out to those with confirmed kills.

High Command simply said the victory was thanks to the general's strategy, not any special effort on the soldier's part. Of the soldiers, only a couple select units in Ranger saw any real combat. Ranger's scouts and cavalry, and their cannoneers were the only ones to engage in fights worth rewarding.

The only unit outside Ranger to be given merits were the 1st Colonial Corps' cannoneers, who'd held on to Port Patres under extreme and concentrated fire, losing over 80% of their men in the process.

High Command, while recognising that some of Ranger did engage in decent fighting, didn't recognise it as an extraordinary contribution. Clearly they didn't fight that hard since they'd barely lost any men. They'd merely tailed the enemy as the general had ordered.

They also downplayed Line 131's contributions. Whilst they had captured Wickhamsburg and had driven the final nail into the corps' coffin, they had not done much actual fighting. They were thus not awarded any merits.

Miselk had pushed for Claude's efforts to be recognised, especially his incentives in preserving the supplies in the city rather than burning them, which had allowed them to keep their captives fed and alive. High Command dismissed his requests, saying it was at best cancelled out by the trouble his acquisition of the 800 carriages had caused.

That said, they weren't so shameless as to not give him anything. He was given a single first-class merit, which left him still two short of his next promotion -- one which would see him become the youngest major-general in the kingdom's history. He was but 29 after all. He still had another 6 years to make major-general and still be a legend.

Claude's brother was about as lucky as the general. He'd shone during their assault on Wickhamsburg and been promoted three ranks to master-sergeant and was currently undergoing training. Myjack also made a decent showing. He now only needed one more first-class merit to make it to major.

Claude was too preoccupied to consider whether to be unhappy with his reward or not. Five hundred thousand crowns had vanished from the storehouses in Wikchamsburg. They'd captured it with the city. It was the funds supposed to settle the five Shiksan corps' backpay and bonuses. It had all been in Shiksan currency, in gold keptons, silver kylars, and bronze fernis.

The explosions had devastated the city. A giant crater was all that was left of the munitions warehouses, and that had been where the funds had been stored. Ranger's chief of logistics, General Fansnik refused to accept the loss, however, and still had hundred of officers scouring the crater, literally digging in the scorched soil with their bare hands for anything that might look like it had once been coinage.

They found nothing, and Fansnik had accused Claude of embezzling the money. He'd already interrogated Claude thrice.

Claude naturally pleaded his innocence. He'd never even known they'd captured that much money. They'd taken quick control of the city and had immediately moved on to other concerning matters. The only supplies they'd investigated were the food and other necessities. Money had not once crossed his or any of his officers' minds. They'd not even glanced at the munitions warehouses.

Claude told the general to ask around among the sentries. They confirmed his story. He'd not been near the warehouses since they were posted there. He'd not even spoken to the staff responsible for administering those warehouses. The first he or any of his men heard of the money was when Fansnik showed up with his accusations.

Fansnik was not convinced. Claude's personal guards were the last to leave the city, and they did so with five fully-loaded wagons. Fansnik was convinced those wagons had carried the money away. Claude's wagon of honour blades didn't do him any favours with Fansnik either.

Honour blades were awarded only to the most valiant of Shiksan officers. They were ceremonial blades, with all the bells and whistles that entailed. There was nothing wrong with taking spoils of such a nature and handing them out to one's subordinates, but those blades were supposedly stored in one of the munitions warehouses, which meant Claude had checked them out.

Claude would not admit to anything, however. It was only right that he was the last to leave. He was of the ilk that believed an officer led from the front. He should be the first to charge into battle and the last to withdraw.

As for the five wagons, they'd been laden with luxury goods his guard had pilfered from the rest of the city. They were of the likes of silverware, rugs, and wines, all fair plunder. He could have kept all five wagons for himself, or for his unit, at least, but he'd sent four to corps command to let the rest of the corps share in the spoils of war, if only a little.

In those four wagons Claude had given away 60 thousand crowns of plunder. He did not think that a man greedy enough to stool the 500 thousand crowns Fansnik was alledging would give away a quarter of it so easily.

As for the honour blades, he told Fansnik to talk to the enemy chief of logistics and see what they had to say. He'd found the blades in the first storehouse in the complex, the one most eye-catchingly decorated.

The rest of the line had clean and clear records of their spoils, where they'd come from, and what they'd done with them, so Fansnik had little on which to prosecute them. That didn't mean he'd let Claude off the hook. He dragged the entire command structure of the line through his office in single file to answer his questions. It lasted so long and its interference became so severe that Claude had little choice but to throw a fit in General Miselk's office.

Chapter 357 - Changes in the Corps

Claude returned to Line 131's command centre with a gloomy expression. He threw a giant tantrum, only calming down after his vice-linesman, Lieutenant-Colonel Schnak, and chief logistician, Siegfeld, ministered him carefully.

He immediately ordered all his men to deny any cooperation with the investigation. Any soldier asked would have to get Claude's permission before being allowed to submit to interviews.

Claude intended to go against General Fansnik. Fansnik's interference was not wise and went against protocol. If the army's funds belonged to the kingdom, then he, as the corps' chief logistician, had full right to investigate the matter since it fell under his jurisdiction.

However, the missing funds belonged to the enemy, Shiks, and weren't given to Ranger by Aueras. As the new corps chief logistician, Fansnik had no right to stir up trouble and even suspect Line 131 of pocketing the money.

According to standard procedure, looted armaments, gear, and supplies were turned over. Non-military items of value, such as jewellery, belonged to the looter. Take for instance when 1st Ranger Tribe was in the three southwestern prefectures of Askilin, they took a noble's vineyard and distributed the fine wines to the men, as well as some gold and silverware. It was a reward for the soldiers.

Naturally, that didn't mean that every single thing the soldiers took would go straight into their pockets. The spoils had first to be handed over to their superiors, who would redistribute the unit's loot equally. That was the difference between organised and disorganised looting. Organised looters' acquisition rate (read: efficiency at robbing) was the highest and they wouldn't miss even the smallest valuable.

If Line 131 had discovered the 500 thousand crowns, they could distribute it according to normal protocol. Seven-tenths of it had to be given to the corps while the other three-tenths could be distributed among the troops. Even thirty percent was quite a hefty sum for the men. When they heard about the missing sum, even the soldiers of Line 131 found it quite regrettable that they missed it.

The issue was that Line 131 didn't even discover such a huge money stash in the ammunition storage area of Wickhamsburg. They had left in a hurry after setting fire to the warehouses in fear of the explosions that might ensue. The money, if it was ever there, had probably been reduced to ash in the crater from the explosions.

As the one in charge, Claude handed in all evidence to prove that Line 131 did in fact neglect to do a detailed check of the ammunition storage area and missed out on the money. Occurrences like this weren't uncommon and mostly due to bad luck. People would only joke about it for a bit and leave the matter alone.

Even though the sum was huge, it did belong to the enemy. If they got it, it was a good bonus. If they didn't, tough luck. Nobody would really consider that sum the property of Aueras like General Fansnik would and keep on pestering his men until he found out what happened to it.

What he didn't expect was for Claude to completely ignore the chief logistics officer, who had been appointed the position instead of being promoted to it. When Claude got into a huge argument with him at the logistics department, he demanded to know on what basis Fansnik considered the sum of money to belong to Aueras and demand him of all people to hand it over. It wasn't as if Aueras funded Shiks to attack the colonies.

Fansnik, on the other hand, highlighted that, since Ranger reported directly to the Stellin royal family, all honour and glory the corps received belonged to them, and the same went for spoils looted on the battlefield. According to his argument, all spoils had to first be handed over to the Stellin royal family before being distributed to everyone in Ranger. Only then could the loyalty of the unit be maintained. The royal family would also continue to look after the soldiers of Ranger.

It was all pointless rhetoric. Claude immediately accused him of wanting to monopolise the right to distribute spoils. He brought up the wagons filled with luxury goods Claude handed to the corps' logistics department. Claude had wanted all officers of Ranger to get a piece of them, but Fansnik came over and confiscated those goods and handed them all to the Stellin royal family as a measure of his performance. He only cared about his own benefit and ignored that of the other soldiers in Ranger.

The accusation embarrassed Fansnik deeply. His face looked like it would melt. He claimed Claude shouldn't have just given four of the wagons to the corps and keep one for his own line. The fact that he did so was a huge insult to the royal family.

Fansnik even proudly took out Line 131's spoils inventory book as proof. He said that Claude's actions showed that he was disloyal to the royal family and shouldn't have been included in their exclusive unit. Fansnik would request the brass to revoke Claude's honorary Title and charge him with the crime of corruption until the 500 thousand crowns were answered for.

The argument between those two got ever more heated. Had the vice logistics officer of the corps, Colonel Skri, not heard it and came over to grab and restrain Claude, Claude would've gone over to beat General Fansnik up. The matter went big and the two were sent to General Miselk for a huge chastisement. However, Claude knew that his days in Ranger would no longer be as easy going as it used to be. General Fansnik, who had recently been promoted straight to the post of chief logistics officer, had his eyes on him.

Seeing Lieutenant-Colonels Schnak and Siegeld leaving his office, Claude had a pensive look on his face. The tantrum he threw in the office was for show as a sign of his innocence. However, he still wasn't able to tell which of the two had betrayed him. Perhaps they didn't see it as such and thought they were serving the greater good of Line 131.

Myjack, Berklin, Moriad and Dyavid, his most trusted, hurriedly entered his office. Gum stood outside it automatically to keep any uninvited guests out. Myjack closed the door and asked concernedly, "Sir, what did the corpsman say?"

Claude sighed. "Do you know the saying, 'a subordinate too outstanding terrifies even his superior'?"

The four shook their heads.

"General Miselk's days will get tougher from now on. General Fansnik is actually someone the brass sent there to keep an eye on General Miselk. Ranger is the royal family's private forces and the brass wants to prevent it from being completely in the general's control as a result of how much his reputation has shot up during the war. That would put the royal family in an awkward position if Ranger listened to no one but General Miselk, given how much they have invested in the corps. That's why the royal family will be transferring even more officers here to fill up the high posts of the corps.

"I've not only been targeted by General Fansnik because of the matter of the missing money. Instead, they now consider me a loyal subordinate of General Miselk. To deal with a strong tree like him, they have to cut off the branches first. Unfortunately, I've now been considered to be the strongest branch on the tree. Without me, they believe that General Miselk would lose the most crucial faction that supports him. After all, the combat ability of our line is known for being the best in all of the corps."

"It can't be... Shiks just announced they would be forming ten standing corps lately to fight this war to the end. How could the royal family cut their own feathers at a time like this? Who would Ranger count on to drive the enemies away with General Miselk out of the picture?" Berklin said.

"You're right.--" Claude nodded. "--The problem isn't the royal family trying to get rid of the general. Instead, they're putting him on a pedestal. not only did they make him Lord Militant and give him command over all of the kingdom's ground forces, he was also given a trigenerational Title and a manor. On one hand, the royal family is trying to spoil General Miselk. On the other, they're sending their own officers to take up high-ranking positions in our corps to firm their hold on Ranger without a hitch with the general's cooperation.

"From the distribution of rewards this time around, you can see that the brass has intentionally embellished the general's contribution and suppressed those of the other soldiers. That can effectively cause a rift between the general and the rest of the soldiers. They want them to think that General Miselk claimed all the credit for himself to undermine the position he holds in their hearts and incite their dissatisfaction. They don't want Ranger to only answer to General Miselk's beck and call.

"As for fighting the ten new standing corps of Shiks, it's still a little too early for that. You should all know that it takes a long time to form a new corps and give the soldiers basic training. It would take at least a year and a half. Based on the report from the ministry of the army, Shiks has indeed starting forming new corps, but they've only managed to complete one and a half so far. Progress is incredibly slow.

"Forming a corps is not only a matter of recruiting soldiers. There's a lot of sourcing of gear, training, and officers to take up vacant commanding positions. To form ten full standing corps, Shiks need about two to three years. Not to mention, transporting all those corps to Nubissia means that they would have to prepare enough supplies to sustain all those corps for a long enough period to wage effective war. The brass estimates that Shiks wouldn't be able to continue the war here in another three to four years.

"That is a relatively long time. It's not certain what could happen in that period. Perhaps the kingdom's economy will recover and they can transport other corps here to take over the war. That's why the brass has the luxury of worrying that General Miselk is turning Ranger into his own private army. Sending high-ranking officers here is one way to prevent that from happening. The Stellin royal family did invest a huge amount in us, after all, since we are supposed to report to them directly. They can't afford to predicate the corps' loyalty on General Miselk's own loyalty to the royal family.

"The main reason General Fansnik has his eyes on me is because of my position. Though, we can't discount the possibility that he's also trying to curry favour with the royal family. It's said that our king, Stellin X, has been bedridden for up to three years and doesn't have much time remaining. By then, no matter which prince takes the throne, General Fansnik can use the contribution of 500 thousand crowns to secure an important position in the new administration. The prince he chooses to support will have a much better fighting chance in the struggle for the throne."

"That's our wealth! How dare this darned Fansnik hand it over like he was the one who found it?!" Moriad complained, "Chief, why don't I take two others with me to off this General Fansnik. We can make it look like it's done by Shiksan spies and blame it on them instead. I doubt anyone will be able to tell."

Claude shook his head. "Don't be crazy. Don't you know that General Fansnik bears the Tam Stellin name? He's from a branch family of the royal family. If he's really assassinated like that, the whole corps will see no end of it. I'll only become main suspect, given how public my fallout with him was. Then again, we can't let him harp over us nonstop like that. We have to find a good way to funnel out that huge sum so that he stops suspecting us.

"Mod, go with Dyid to the place where we buried the money and unearth some golds, silvers and coppers. Hand half of them to Myjack. Myjack, I want you to hand them to Anna. Get her to make it look like those coins were melted and crushed like they were wrapped up in a huge explosion and fire. We'll order Line 131 to go to Wickhamsburg tomorrow to excavate the rubble. General Fansnik wants an explanation, does he? We'll just hand over the devastated remains of the coins we found and make it seem like the sum was indeed caught up in the explosion."

"But Chief, what about the other half of the coins we unearth?" Dyavid asked.

"Hehehe... I need you all to secretly scatter them around the rubble. Have the soldiers 'accidentally' discover some of them. That way, some will report that they've found them, but even more will pocket them for themselves. Even if the amount of coins we found don't match up, the soldiers who excavated the area would be suspected instead. That way, the true sum which we have hidden away will be safe..."

Chapter 358 - Truth and Excavation

Sometimes, the truth was far simpler than people imagined. General Fansnik had simply come after the wrong person in his attempt to locate the missing Shiksan funds. Claude had provided proof that on the day they spent taking Wickhamsburg, he was so busy that he had to run if he wanted to relieve himself. His every move was being monitored and he didn't have much private time at all.

It wasn't just Claude. His tribesmen, adjutant, and personal guards were all busy supervising the captives as they loaded the supplies onto the carriages and had regulated the order and rate in which the carriages were being sent out. That day, everyone was far too busy to the point that almost every soldier of Line 131 could testify that Claude and his subordinates hadn't set foot into the ammunition storage area.

In fact, Claude really didn't know about the stash of gold the Shiksans hid there on that day. By the time he found out, they had all left Wickhamsburg and gathered at the campsite near the hills. Had it not been for Bloweyk, Claude wouldn't have the fortune of stumbling upon that cash. But by then, it was already inappropriate to add that sum of money into their list of spoils. He wanted to continue hiding its existence.

In some sense, Fansnik and his men had neglected to consider Bloweyk's existence. After all, he was currently participating in the officer training course held by Ranger. Only a few knew about the huge sum of Shiksan money in Wickhamsburg. Apart from Moriad, Dyavid and Gum, who had helped Bloweyk move the money away, the rest were all oblivious to that fact, even Claude himself, Myjack and Berklin. They didn't know about the existence of the money.

Among the near-five-thousand men of Line 131, Bloweyk alone had managed to make his way through the whole ammunition storage area to inspect the types of supplies stored in the warehouses. Naturally, he located the sum of money. He then used Magus' Hands to move those coin-filled chests to the fringe warehouse of the ammunition storage area before leaving and greeting the soldiers guarding the area and left the sealed perimeter empty-handed.

Bloweyk then sought out Moriad, prepared a four-wheeled carriage and drove it to the fringes where he left the money-filled chests. He used Magus' Hands to move some of the chests onto the carriage, stuffed other supplies over them to cover them up, before heading to the city exit. He talked to Dyavid and told him to not record him leaving and drove the carriage to a place where he could hide the money. He did five such runs to move the chests.

In Line 131, Bloweyk was quite the special existence. Even though he was just a corporal in rank and orderman in post, he was Claude's younger brother and had a good relationship with the three bigshot tribesmen, Berklin, Moriad and Dyavid. Even Claude's most trusted, Myjack, was his brother-in-law. While he was technically under the command of the keeper band, the bandsman, Gum, listened to him and discussed any matter with him. So, Bloweyk had quite the easy time in the line and even the vice linesman, Schnak, and the logistics supervisor, Siegfeld, didn't trouble him much and agreed to most things he asked for.

But as Claude was really strict on him, and Bloweyk wanted to keep a low profile, not many soldiers in the line had a deep impression of him. Those who knew who he was would take a step back for him. Those who didn't wouldn't need to go out of their way for him either since Bloweyk didn't get mad at that and use his status to bully others. He also didn't have to get Claude to settle any of his issues. Simply asking Berklin or Moriad to stand out for him was enough.

Like Claude, Bloweyk's soldiering skills grew really fast. In fact, he was much better at that than his older brother. Back then, Claude had ended up rather badly beaten in a fight with the veterans when he first joined as a recruit. Bloweyk, on the other hand, challenged the veterans and fought all of them to draws, whether it be in brawls or bayonet fights. Even in aiming could he rank in the top twenty of the whole line. He was even more of a natural-born soldier than Claude.

After Wickhamsburg was conquered, Bloweyk heard that there was a warehouse that stored Shiksan honour blades near the ammunition storage area, so he decided to go take a look. As he was just a corporal, he didn't get a share of those blades and could only play around with the one assigned to Claude. Bloweyk did remember Berklin say that he could get some custom-made ornate weapons of enemy high-ranking officers on the battlefield if he was lucky, such as golden-laced blades or short-barrels. While those were worth quite a bit, they were art pieces and not really practical to use.

So, it occurred to Bloweyk that there could be a warehouse which stored such ornate weapons in the ammunition storage area, which prompted him to take a walk there. Soon, he noticed a warehouse larger than the rest which had additional locks. Those locks weren't an obstacle to him, however, as he was easily able to get them off with Magus' Hands and Fine Control. What awaited him inside were chests filled with gold, silver and copper coins.

Claude had asked Bloweyk why he hid the money. He honestly replied that it was too much of a shame to report it to the top. The corps would take seventy percent of it and only three-tenths of it would be distributed in Line 131. Each soldier would only receive a hundred plus crowns. While it was a huge amount for the soldiers, it couldn't help Claude and Bloweyk's family much.

Claude was now quite the miser and counted on his salary and wartime bonuses to survive. He ate and lived in the camp and didn't have to spend much of his own money. Bloweyk, on the other hand, was different since he was the current head of the Ferd family. He understood the family's situation well. The household still owed Whitestag National Bank a sum of a few thousand crowns which were borrowed in his name.

It all started with Angelina's woodland endeavour. Purchasing more than three hundred hectares of woodland had mostly emptied the family's coffers. Even Claude's personal thousand crowns were taken out for it. However, that was only the first step. According to the plans Claude set up, they would need even more funding to develop the woodland proper. There were roads to pave, houses to build, not to mention the herb farm Angelina wanted to cultivate. So, Bloweyk was forced by Angelina to borrow a sum of 6500 crowns to develop the woodland as the family head.

Thanks to Claude, the loan was given at a really low interest. However, the rent collected from the red-bricked mansion was only enough to cover the interest of the loan. The woodland investment also wouldn't begin to pay off that quickly. It wouldn't start producing any returns in the coming six years at least.

In some sense, Bloweyk was even more brash and reckless than Claude. So when he saw all that money in the warehouse, he instantly set his mind on taking it.

He told Claude that even with his honorary baron Title, his yearly income didn't exceed 300 crowns. While it was sufficient for living a wealthy life after his retirement, he would still have to count on his savings in case of any emergencies. Other things aside, mingling with nobles alone would only constantly remind him of how he lacked money so badly. Additionally, he also had a son. His wife, mother and sister were going to live in Nubissia for the time being too and Claude would need to spend a lot on their accommodation.

Claude was soon convinced by his younger brother. He didn't have a choice. His few close aides already knew about the matter and were in agreement that they should swallow that sum for themselves. While Claude wasn't that greedy for the money, he didn't want to go against the others' wishes to hide it. Not to mention, half a month had passed since leaving Wickhamsburg. Reporting the money at a time like this would draw even more attention. He might even be demanded to hand in the person who hid the money in the first place. Claude wasn't that loyal as to sacrifice his own flesh and blood for that.

What they didn't expect was the corps would let the rabid dog General Fansnik come in as chief logistics officer. After he was informed about the huge sum by the captives, he came barking at Claude without relenting. The reasoning behind that was simple. He maintained that since Line 131 was the one that conquered Wickhamsburg, Claude should be the one to provide an answer to the missing money. Even after he had proven that he didn't even know about the existence of the money, Fansnik still wouldn't give up.

So, when Claude declared that he would lead Line 131 to head back to Wickhamsburg to dig through the rubble for the missing Shiksan gold, many others in Ranger thought it was a huge joke. Fansnik had sent a heavy logistics tribe to dig through the rubble for more than a week and only found no more than a few Shiksan copper fernis.

Little did they know that no more than half a month since they began, Line 131 soon struck gold literally. They uncovered malformed Shiksan gold keptons, silver kylars and copper fernis, all three kinds. There were even many fine grains of metal, probably obliterated coins. In sheer worth, they amounted to nearly ten thousand crowns. The bystanders were shocked. Claude and Line 131 hadn't been lying at all. They had indeed missed out on the huge sum of Shiksan money.

The other units of Ranger soon couldn't hold back and all flocked to Wickhamsburg in the name of helping out with the excavation effort. They each found a spot and began digging, making sure to wash through every inch of dirt as if they were sifting for precious metals by the stream as a placer miner would, to not miss a single coin. Everyone made substantial gains and they could locate hundreds of crowns' worth of coins on good days and tens of crowns' worth on bad days.

General Fansnik soon received word on the matter. He personally went to the ruins of Wickhamsburg and Claude didn't say much and ordered his men to show all the malformed coins and metal shards they gathered to the general. They had a live counting and had an estimated total of ten thousand crowns. The officers of the other units excavating in Wickhamsburg also had their own collection of metal grains and broken coins which amounted to about the same.

It became quite clear that the Shiksan money hadn't vanished at all. They were just sent blasting away in all directions from the explosions and mixed in rubble and trash. One only had to look harder to find them. When Fansnik first had his men look, they only searched the chests where the money could be stored instead of paying attention to the rubble around the ruins.

However, the sharp general soon realised a loophole in the story. Why were there no complete coins among the pile? Claude and the other officers tried to suppress their laughter or feigned ignorance. They said that they were only showing Fansnik the money and didn't intend to hand them over at all. Those were the fruits of the efforts of the soldiers. They were going to exchange them for some money for a little more bonus for their men.

Claude and the rest were indeed right. The malformed coins didn't have to be handed over. Firstly, they didn't belong to the kingdom and were Shiksan funds. After the explosion, they had become ownerless and whoever found them were the keepers. Additionally, the war had ended for close to half a year, so anything excavated from the ruins could no longer be considered spoils. General Fansnik had no reason to demand that they hand over anything valuable they found.

Pissed and fuming, Fansnik looked at the busy sight of people moving about and busy digging. His sharp eye spied a soldier digging out a shiny gold kepton from the rubble, rubbing it clean on his clothes and putting it in his own pocket with a satisfied smile. Into his own pocket!

The general immediately understood why there wasn't a single complete coin among what they had shown. As Claude had said, finders keepers. Unable to hold it in any longer, Fansnik rushed back to corps command. Somehow, he managed to get Miselk to agree to hold some kind of disciplinary reorganisation plan and summoned all soldiers busy digging away in Wickhamsburg back to the camp to participate in it. Then, he rallied his own heavy logistics tribe to the ruins of the city and set up a perimetre before they did their own excavation.

Unfortunately, his luck was rather bad. After a whole month of busywork, he only unearthed around ten thousand crowns' worth of coins. The ones who had come before had left with the lion's share and he missed out. Having no choice, he returned to camp and demanded the officers involved in the excavation to hand over part of their earnings. After all, there were supposedly up to 500 thousand crowns' worth of coins there. He only had a meagre 0.02 percent of that sum...

Naturally, the officers banded together with Claude as their leader didn't comply. They were having such a good time excavating the ruins before they were called back to participate in the nonsense disciplinary reorganisation plan to let Fansnik monopolise Wickhamsburg for a whole month. Then, the general came back to demand that they hand over part of their share because he didn't get enough. How shameless could he be to have come up with that demand? Claude and the rest even suspected that Fansnik was merely underreporting his earnings to squeeze more money out of them.

And so Ranger fell into disarray over the money squabbles. Oddly enough, General Miselk couldn't be bothered to get involved and Claude was successfully able to escape all suspicion. He could sit back, relax and watch the officers of the corps squabble on with General Fansnik.

Chapter 359 - General Fansnik

The 4th month of Year 588 was upon them in the blink of an eye. More than a year had passed since the triumph in Balingana. The winners and losers had changed. The battle on Nubissia had profound implications for the future.

The losers, Shiks, not only refused a peace treaty, they also announced the formation of ten new corps and their intent to finish the war. Additionally, they hired Nasri and Canas' allied navy and mercenary corps made up mostly of the kingdoms' discharged soldiers and successfully kept their colony.

The victors, Aueras, fell into chaos because of Stellin X's illness. To effectively exert control over Ranger and stop it from becoming General Miselk's private army, the royal family transferred many of their most loyal officers into the corps.

General Fansnik was one of them, a member of one of the royal family's branches. His grandfather was a first-degree cousin of Stellin VIII and had a hereditary count Title. He had fought against Stellin IX during his reformation, however, and his fief was seized. His bloodline spared him the gallows, but he was made a mere honorary noble. With their annual stipend of 200 crowns and the 100 crowns for being a branch family, they could only barely sustain their old lifestyle.

Shortly after Stellin X's ascension, Fansnik's grandfather passed away and the honorary Title went with him. While his father had been an honorary baron, their stipend was halved. It changed Fansnik's life completely. The noble lifestyle cost money, chests and chests of it, and they no longer had it. His father had made many risky investments to try and make a quick fortune and maintain their lifestyle, but they all failed, and they were pushed to the edge of bankruptcy.

Fansnik knew from his early days that his father would be in the grave before the next king came along. He was not counting on getting any more Titles. He still carried royal blood, but he was a full four generations removed from the last Stellin member of the family and was only still just barely considered royalty. He could not rely on his bloodline, so, he applied to join the royal family's war college during his formative years and worked himself to the bone to build a decent career after his graduation.

He wasn't a brave man. He was absolutely petrified of death, so he found the safest job possible in the military, a desk job pushing papers and doing sums about food, water, ammunition, and salaries. It helped that, while far from a genius, he was quite decent at his job. His surname helped make up for whatever shortcomings he had. While his distance from the main bloodline meant his surname did little for him with the royals, it did still hold considerable sway with everyone else. It only took him 21 years to make it to colonel despite not setting foot on a single battlefield or firing as much as a single round, in battle or on the practice range.

Being transferred to Ranger was a significant first for him. The posting came with a promotion to major-general. He was now 48 and had finally crossed the hardest barrier for every logistics officer: crossing the final hurdle to becoming a general officer. It meant he had once more been included in the list of people to which the royal family paid attention. Perhaps he would eventually be recognised as one of them and be given a Title.

When he received the order, the battles of Balingana were only just beginning. The five Shiksan corps were marching for Cromwell fervorously and Ranger easily gave up on its capital, turning their attention to Balingana instead. The situation looked rather pressing.

As expected, Fansnik feigned serious illness and diarrhoea. He appeared so ill he couldn't even stand properly and no apothecary could adequately treat him. He faced his comrades and friends with a pale visage as he lay in beg and cursed his luck for not letting him participate in the war. He had hoped he would go to Nubissia to fight the enemy with Ranger through thick and thin, but thanks to his illness, his plans were ruined.

He miraculously recovered the moment he heard of Ranger's victory and darted off to the harbour that very same day. He told his associates he had missed the fruits of battle for the last time. Now the war was over and over 300 thousand enemies were captured, logistics would definitely be a huge problem. He couldn't just sit by while his unit needed him most.

Fansnik took just a month and a half to make it to his unit's camp and took over as chief logistician. On the first day on duty, he had the four carriages of luxury goods Claude handed over be confiscated so he could send it to the royal family.

Even General Miselk had never expected the new chief logistics officer to do something so odd. Quite troubled, he gently reminded him that the four carriages had been in his charge so Fansnik could use this change to foster a good relationship with the officers by distributing the goods personally. He persisted, however, and sent it all to the royal family. He didn't care about antagonising the common nobles that were his colleagues. Their ire was nothing compared to the royals' favour.

He even accused Miselk of not considering the royal family's face because his pride had grown too much.

He did little else himself, however. All the actual work was delegated to his subordinates. He only concerned himself with tracking down every coin, sword, and fork looted during the campaign. It didn't take him long to discover mentions of the 500 thousand crowns in the reports. It was a godsend. If he could send that money to the royal family, it would practically be buying his re-entry into the royal family. Unfortunately it had all gone missing, and he went after Line 131 and its commander like a rabid dog for letting something happen to his golden cow.

He didn't think the little colonel would be so much trouble. He experienced first hand what true, proud soldiers were like. They didn't even regard him, a general, as a soldier. He was barely more than a filthy civilian to them. He had expected them to bend over backwards to curry his favour, but instead they were treating him like a tick on their back. They'd even called him a 'greedy bastard' and a 'cancer to the corps'.

And then the damned colonel actually ordered his men to not cooperate with Fansnik's investigation! Their burning ire aside, Fansnik was most upset by the damage his failure to nail them had done to his reputation, as he'd accused, without evidence, a decorated and beloved officer. Barely anyone interacted with him at all anymore. Even his subordinates avoided him. He refused to let the matter go, however. The money was all coinage, so while an explosion might have damages and scattered the coins all over the place, but it could not have erased all trace of them.

He personally despised the colonel as well. He'd disliked him from the start because he was an old guard loyal to Miselk, but the way he had stood up to Fansnik turned dislike into open despisal.

He hoped that his continued efforts would see the colonel discharged, or at the very least mothballed and his post freed up for the royal family to fill with one of their loyalists. Instead, rather than face him, Claude simply got as far away from him as he could by taking Line 131 to Wickhamsburg for 'excavation work'. It was all a farce just to get away from him, or course.

Or so Fansnik thought.

A fortnight after arriving in the abandoned city, Claude had made considerable finds. Rather than searching around the crater, he started in the outskirts of the city, reasoning that the coins would have been shot far away by the shockwave of the explosion. He had been right.

News of his success made the rest of Ranger's mouths water. Nearly the entire corps was suddenly back in Wickhamsburg looking for coins. Fansnik rushed over as well. He needed to be there to continue to cast aspersions on Line 131 if he was to get them cleared of command. Unfortunately, he was too late. Claude was won back his reputation by the time he arrived.

Having failed to clean a command spot for the royal family, Fansnik decided to at least send the money to his masters. He could not do that either, however. Too much time had passed since the battle, so the coins found were no longer considered battle loot, and belonged to whoever found them.

He stormed back to camp to find a way to have all the units disciplined. At the same time he ordered the city sealed and had his entire staff digging as well.

A month later he only had 10 thousand crowns' coins to show for all his effort, despite having done everything possible to make sure not a single coin was pocketed.

He was driven to the brink of breakdown by his string of failures. He nearly vomited blood when he had to distribute most of his meagre earnings to his staff as well. If he didn't they might accuse him of using military resources for personal benefit. It was the worst accusation a logistician could suffer. Even he, a Stellin, would not escape severe punishment. If anything, the fact that he was a Stellin would only make his punishment that much more severe.

It all drove him to ask all the officers whose units were involved in the excavation to give him a share of their earnings. He believed he got so little because of how late he was. Most of it had already been excavated by the time he got there.

It only cemented his reputation as a greedy bastard, however. Few had done much better than he had. Sure, some coins were pocketed, but the officers and their men had cried and bled together, and they trusted the men to have not done so excessively. The most it could be was one or two thousand crowns. If each unit only had so much, all the units' yields combined would amount to 100 thousand at most, with Line 131 probably having more of it as they were the first to start.

Of the 500 thousand crowns, the most they got was 200 thousand. The rest was definitely hidden by Fansnik, or so the rumour went. It was one thing to abuse his position to force the men to stop. But he had enough come demanding a share of what they got because he felt he didn't get enough. Claude suspected he was merely pretending to be poor so he could squeeze them dry. Most of the men agreed.

Just as Fansnik was scratching his head to come up with an explanation to dispel the rumours, General Miselk summoned Claude.

"Claude, You're being transferred out of Ranger..." the general said when Claude stepped into his office.

Chapter 360 - Field Marshal of the Theatre

"Did I mishear? You're relieving me?"

Claude wondered if it was due to his overblown argument with General Fansnik. He had been constantly fanning the flames to worsen the general's reputation. Perhaps Miselk could no longer just sit by and watch.

After becoming Lord Militant, most soldiers had to change their address of him accordingly, save for a few of his closest confidants who still called him 'General'.

Miselk mulled in silence for a moment, then sighed.

"No, Claude, you're being relieved because I want to make you field marshal."

Claude shook his head.

"G-g-g-general... W-w-why? That's your..."

Miselk didn't answer. He tapped the blue document on his desk. He removed his glasses and took out a small black velvet cloth and began cleaning the lenses.

"The top have made a decision to fight the war in the colonies defensively. When it's necessary, we can abandon Cromwell, Balingana, and Robisto. At the very least, we have to keep Anfiston."

That was old news. They had planned to do the same before the victory at Balingana, but who would've known Miselk would actually come to defeat all five enemy corps despite the ten-to-one odds? Claude didn't interrupt him, however. He sat down and listened quietly.

As expected, he seemed filled with regret.

"However, this time, Ranger will most likely not participate in the fighting..."

"If Ranger doesn't take part, we can't hold Anfiston! Or do you mean they're sending another corps?"

Miselk shook his head and tried to smile.

"The kingdom isn't sending more forces over. It's very likely Ranger will be sent back home, actually. What? Do you think we can't continue this war without Ranger?"

Claude nodded.

"As you surely know, we only won because we had superior mobility and tactics, and Ranger is the only force trained in this doctrine. Without, we don't stand a snowball's chance in hell."

"Things are never absolute. The defenders in Port Patres fought bravely against Seaking and didn't give up even though they lost eighty percent of their men. They fought as well as, if not better than the four corps," Miselk argued, "By the way, did you hear about the royal family sending high-ranking officers related by blood to take up posts in Ranger?"

"I did... But this news is three months old. They still haven't come, so I thought it was just a rumour. I only know of Fansnik. He doesn't do anything but make trouble though. If the officers to come are all like him, I weep for Ranger..."

Miselk laughed derisively.

"It's true. They're all related to the royal family one way or another. The royals are afraid they'll lose control of Ranger if they don't have their people in the command structure. The only reason they haven't been flooding in is because the people they're sending also know how important this is for the royals, and are insisting on much better terms.

"Amongst other things, they all want Ranger sent back home. They don't want to actually fight. Whilst they're willing to serve in Ranger, they don't want to be so far from the capital. They're capital nobles more than anything else, after all. Lastly, they want to wield real power in the corps instead of holding a vapid position as strategists. They want proper positions like those of linesmen."

Claude was flabbergasted. He thought he was listening to a fairy tale.

"How can that happen? Doesn't the first prince care?"

It was obvious what kind of buffoon would make such demands. Compared to them, Fansnik even seemed a little endearing. At least he was brave enough to come to Nubissia. Initially, the thought of Miselk wanting him to leave the corps made him suspect his position was going to be given away to one of those buffoons. However, making him field marshal didn't seem to align with that outcome.

Miselk laughed bitterly and shook his head.

"His Highness can't be bothered to deal with this. The ones in charge of Ranger now are the royals who all bear the name Stellin and have higher seniority than him; until he ascends, of course. As His Majesty is still bedridden and sick, their whims will decide the next heir. Under such circumstances, His Highness has no choice but to cooperate and gain their support."

"B-but hasn't Prince Hansbach always been the heir apparent?"

"His Majesty still hasn't named his heir."

The general put his glasses on the desk. In the private letter the first prince had sent him, he said he wasn't against transferring Ranger back. However, he needed his good friend and comrade to plan out their next move to deal with this complicated situation.

"Currently, the army is the only faction that supports the first prince," Miselk explained, "The navy and the new nobility stand behind Prince Wedrick. The old nobility have yet to pick a side.

"Among the old nobility only the royals are more active. They throw their weight around and demand multiple concessions from Prince Hansbach, who has no choice but to oblige so they won't side with the second prince and cause the kingdom to fall into further chaos. You must understand, Claude, some people just can't succeed at anything. However, they're experts when it comes to ruining things for everyone else..."

No truer words had ever been spoken. Fansnik was one such person. Claude nodded his agreement fervently.

"General, even if Ranger is the private force of the royal family, it's still a standing corps of the kingdom, a rapid response force at that. Would the ministry of the army really let the royal relatives mess around with Ranger without interfering? They should be more than aware that Ranger's might will only deteriorate if this is allowed to go on..."

"Haha, the ministry, you say?" Miselk said mockingly, "They'd rather have Ranger become a ceremonial unit for the royal family than allow such a strong corps that takes orders only from the royal family to remain outside of their jurisdiction. In fact, the ministry of the navy is the true pro-royal faction. The ministry of the army, on the other hand, is a gathering for all the other factions of the kingdom."

Claude felt a little light headed from hearing all that. "Wait, General, didn't you say the first prince has always clashed with the navy and don't get along? Why is the navy pro-royal then? Isn't that a contradiction?"

Miselk laughed out loud. "What's contradictory about that? The navy is indeed constantly at odds with the first prince. Prince Hansbach has always had a problem with Fearless being so fearful of our enemies and how they go to such lengths to avoid confrontation. He and the Lord of the Admiralty, Count Andreak Feng Carlos hold personal grudges with one another. However, the navy is a staunch supporter of the royal family. To them, it doesn't matter which Stellin takes the throne. That's why they have chosen to support the second prince as a candidate for king.

"In contrast, the ministry of the army is where the old nobility congregate. While the royal family has a few of their own in it, their influence has always been curbed by the united old nobles. Furthermore, there are also a few factions within the old nobility. Some of them are noble families from the founding days of the kingdom, and there are others who have been made hereditary nobles after following Stellin IX through the Reformation War. There are also noble families who happen to be major arms dealers for the kingdom.

"If you want to be thorough, there are at least a dozen factions in the ministry of the army. Even the new nobility have some of their own in it, though their faction is still rather weak and don't have much of a say. However, they are shrewd and make use of conflict between the other factions. They aren't easy to deal with either.

"Let's just put it this way. The ministry of the army is far more complicated than you imagined it to be. The four main standing corps, the three new standing corps formed over the recent years, and the various irregular corps and local garrison and keeper forces all have differing allegiances to the factions within it. The reason the royal family spent so much money to form Ranger in the first place was to form a force that doesn't have influence from any other faction. However, they have started to actively sabotage the corps themselves..."

Miselk turned to look at him. "Let's get back to the main topic, Claude. What I want to tell you is that Ranger is definitely returning to the mainland after the 3rd month. I also have to follow the corps back to serve in the ministry of the army. After all, I'm one of the three Lord Militants and I'm still in my prime. It won't stand for the brass to not give me a good position..."

He joked around self-mockingly and tapped on the blue document on the desk. "Lately, I've been busy negotiating with the brass. They made some concessions to get me to agree to the transfer of Ranger. In other words, they'll let me draft up the strategies and plans to deal with the colonial war and appoint you as field marshal of this war theatre."

Claude stood up immediately to say something, but he was stopped before he could speak. "Claude, this position is not an honour. It's a burden. The final result of the war here in the colonies depends on it. If you obtain victory, you'll be hailed as a legendary hero respected by thousands. If you lose, you'll forever be known as the sinner who lost all the kingdom's colonies..."

Miselk motioned for Claude to sit back down. "This document is the plan I proposed to the brass for the war effort here. You may take it back for your own reference. You know our baselines well and no matter how this war develops, as long as you can hold Anfiston and the three colonies behind it, namely, Mormaly, Aduras and Tyrrsim, you'll have completed your assignment and made a monumental contribution to the kingdom.

"I'll give you a short brief so that you won't have to worry about not having the men for the task to hold the defence line. The Ranger being transferred back to Freia is but its husk. Most of its soldiers and officers will join the local defence units and be formed into the three new enhanced folks. The enhanced folks will be as powerful as what Ranger folk started off as. The other two colonial corps here will be shrunk into folks and used as reserve troops. All five of these folks are under the jurisdiction of this war theatre and no other faction or department in the kingdom can interfere with the command here.

"Additionally, Ranger will leave behind all gear, war horses and weapons. You may use them to form the five new folks and reorganise them as fast as possible. According to the ministry of the army, Shiks has already formed two standing corps. They also hired Nasrian and Canasian officers to train their new forces to adapt to modern tactics. It looks like they've learned where to obtain more combat experience from.

"There's also word that Shiks obtained new precision-firing muskets from Nasri and are greatly revamping their forces to replace the old muskets. According to our predictions, it will take them two to three more years to restart the war here. So, Claude, after taking over as field marshal, your most important task is to get these five folks in order and prepare to defend.

"It might be a little too young for you to take up post as field marshal at the age of 30. Regrettably, not a single high-ranking officer of the kingdom wishes to take my place, so I had no choice but to suggest you. I didn't think the brass would actually agree to it. Perhaps in their eyes, this place is a goner and nobody wants to jump into it. Alright, ask away if you have any questions."

Claude was full of questions and he was finally allowed to speak. "General, why me? There are more qualified men in the corps to take up this position. Also, wouldn't the brass fault you for essentially returning to the kingdom with merely Ranger's husk without all the gear and men?

"I also want to know where we can recruit enough men to form five folks. The rangers transferred to the colonial keeper forces don't number that much and the two colonial corps aren't even fully manned. Their troops are not up to standard and have poor discipline. We're barely capable of forming two folks. Not to mention, all the youths in the seven colonies are either serving in their local force or drafted into the two colonial corps. Where can we source more men?

"I'd also like to know where we can get funding for these five folks and the war effort. Will the ministry of the army be paying it? Will the officers that transferred here enjoy the same benefits they got in Ranger? Also, do we get replacements for weapons and gear from the ministry of the army as well? What about supplies and logistics support? Are they provided by the three colonies at the rear?"

Chapter 361 - Problem Solved

Miselk grimaced. He pointed and Claude and began, "Looks like I have to make it completely clear if I'm to ask you to take up your post as the field marshal, right?"

Claude shrugged. "General, how are we supposed to react when you're just going to bumble back to the royal capital and leave us behind? Back then, we were able to fight fearlessly with you there cause we knew for sure we'd obtain victory if we follow your plans. You were always there to back us up. There wasn't much need for us to think at all. We just had to follow your instructions.

"Now, you're leaving and placing that burden on me! I'm not someone who can carry that burden! The reason those royal officers didn't want to take your place is cause they know it isn't an easy one to serve. You'll always be sitting under a dangling blade which will punish you the moment you stop paying attention. General, please spare me from that and look for a better candidate in the force..."

"You're not the only one bearing the burden. I also gave you two helpers to shoulder it with you. Colonel Bolonik and Colonel Sevict are your seniors during the strategy class and with them aiding you, you'll get used to your new post soon enough," he said with a consoling smile.

Overjoyed, Claude said, "General, you can just pick one of them to be field marshal! They're far more qualified than me in terms of rank and strategy..."

Miselk shook his head. "I don't think so, Claude. I chose you over them because you have an honorary Title that they don't. You are the kingdom's baron, a noble. As field marshal, you'll no doubt have to interact with the locals here. And for them, an honorary baron is far more deserving of respect than someone with just a military rank.

"Most importantly, your two seniors excel at defence, unlike you, who champions offence. A good defence can make the enemy more desperate and offensive to increase their death toll and chip away at their morale. The war will drag on as a result and their casualties will pile up. It's akin to making a cut on the enemy that won't stop bleeding. They will eventually cave and pay a huge price at the negotiation table.

"Consequently, only defending will also cost us a lot too, since we will be completely passive and the enemy decides when the battles are fought. We can only respond reactively. To win a war, we must learn how to mount offences as well. Since the enemy is far more numerous with us, we must rely on attacking to keep the initiative on our side.

"Before the Triumph of Balingana, nobody paid much attention to Ranger. We only numbered around 30 thousand and had no help other than a weak, newly formed colonial corps. Our enemies, on the other hand, numbered 300 thousand. It was due to our firm grasp on the initiative of battle that we were able to cut off their supply route and seal off the entire battlefield to blind our enemy to the most current information on the battlefield. That caused them to overthink matters and end up defeated when they ran out of supplies.

"By striking defensively, holding onto the initiative and blinding their scouts, we were able to draw them along the path we want by the nose. The enemy was nothing more than a slow, dumb giant that is all size and no threat. Regrettably, your two seniors have been too heavily influenced by formal military doctrine, so they aren't able to learn how to strike defensively. The moment they enter battle, they revert to the traditional methods. They are careful to a fault and won't take any risks.

"You are different from them. Your talent lies in mounting attacks. It's in your blood. Your ability to grasp opportunities and sensitivity towards the tide of battle are things that struck awe in me. You had always been able to deal the fatal blow during the moment the enemy least expects it and swiftly with utmost efficiency and speed. For instance, in the battle you fought to take Wickhamsburg, I had thought that you wouldn't have been able to set fires to all the warehouses easily even with the secret passage. That was the crux to our victory in Balingana.

"The enemy's forces were double yours. Two garrison lines defended Wickhamsburg and had the advantage of fighting from within a fortified city. Who knew you'd use the secret path to instead take control of the gate and lead Line 131 immediately to their command post to force the two lines of enemy soldiers to surrender. With the smallest casualties, you occupied the whole city and burned all the warehouses, which was the final blow the 180 thousand enemies heading towards Wickhamburg needed to fall into despair and surrender.

"Needless to say, the brilliance of your decision to move the supplies out of Wickhamsburg away and build a camp nearby can't be overstated. While the brass refused to give you proper credit and recognition for it, I remember how much help you were to me well. Given all that, I believe that you are the most qualified person to take after me. Only through attacking can we win!"

Claude felt more and more elated at the sound of it. Heck, anyone would when the war god of the kingdom, Miselk, praised them with such fervour. After hearing the detailed rundown by the general, Claude was convinced that he was the man for the job.

"This time around, the officers and soldiers from Ranger who will transfer out will be the backbone of the three enhanced corps," Miselk said, "I will have your two seniors serve as your aides. Leave the important defence assignments to them. Colonel Bolonik is the folksman of 1st Monolith Folk. Colonel Sevict is the folksman of 2nd Monolith Folk. These two folks by the name of Monolith will take over the defence line at Dorinibla River in Robisto and Claude Defence Line in Anfiston respectively.

"With the two of them having your back, you can attack without any reservations, knowing that they'll keep it safe. Roam free in the areas of Cromwell and Balingana to search for opportunities and use your unique approach to attack the enemy and deal them as much damage as possible. That's why the folk you're leading will be called Thundercrash. Just like Ranger, it shall be a mobile attack force. Do you see why I named it thus now?"

Claude nodded and sat straight up. "General, I promise that no enemy shall stand firm before the clap of our thunder. We'll come swift as lightning, overwhelming and booming. When we attack, no foe shall be able to weather our crashing barrage. We will strike fear in their hearts and cause them to devolve into incoherent fools..."

"Swift as lightning, overwhelming and booming... Well said. Claude, I hope you can live up to what you said," Miselk said as he relished in the beautiful description. "I will have most of the soldiers transfer to the local keeper forces for now and leave their gear and war horses with you, so don't worry about that. In fact, the royal nobles will even be happy with that.

"After all, they'll get a chance to install their own members in the vacant positions of Ranger, have enough space in the corps to openly draw in their subordinates for a piece of the pie and use the lack of gear as an excuse to demand huge funding, no doubt pocketing a good amount of it for themselves.

"The ministry of the army will also be glad to let that happen. After all, it's the money of the royal family that's being spent. Not a single copper will have to come out of the ministry of the army's coffers and they could stand to earn a cut off the royal nobles by cooperating..."

Claude felt that his eyes were once more opened after hearing so much about the secret backstage of the kingdom's politics. He had thought that the kingdom's army had been a place where the battle-crazy, ridiculously strong warmongers gathered. He had learned that from experience in the recent war, and he was part of them as well. He didn't think the brass would also plot against one another for the sake of their own personal profit.

"Don't think so gloriously of the brass' plans. Most times, the orders and plans they come up with are riddled with compromises that take care of all parties' interests," Miselk said like he had seen through all of it, "For instance, promoting you to take over my position as field marshal of this war theatre might seem like they're putting huge trust in you and letting you take care of these four war theatres and putting you in command of five enhanced folks with some 160 thousand men.

"However, if it weren't for Shiks' threat to send over ten corps to take the colonies, you would never have a chance. Even my recommendation won't do. There will be more than enough people who will try fighting for this position. It's precisely because it isn't boding well for this position that you are able to take it. It's like how you put it. Who would want to sit on a throne with a sword dangling just above?

"However, I firmly believe that as long as you can defeat the standing corps of Shiks, nobody will be able to chase you away from that position. Naturally, I doubt Shiks would be able to keep this going after a loss of that degree. When peace ensues, the kingdom will close this war theatre and you'll have successfully cemented your position in the military as a legendary hero of our kingdom."

After his encouragement speech, Miselk returned to the main topic. "I've already solved the problem of recruiting replacements you brought up. I struck a deal with those new merchant nobles of the kingdom and the elites of the kingdom are in agreement of our arrangement too. The deal's simple. We'll hand over the 500 thousand Shiksan captives to the new nobles while they send us 100 thousand households of kingdom settlers to the war theatre.

"The most crucial part of this deal is that each of those households has at least a youth who had fought in the five-year war in Eastern Freia and was discharged. The merchant nobles will be paying the cost for their move and stay and our job is to give them a stable vocation. To support us in the next colonial war, the ministry of the army agreed to send over 20 local keeper tribes who were part of the five-year war even though they couldn't send a whole corps here.

"So, you won't have to worry about not having enough reserves. The 100 thousand households represent 100 thousand soldiers. Coupled with the 20 tribes, you'll have more than 120 thousand experienced veterans to pick from. Add the soon-to-be ex-members of Ranger and the men from the two colonial corps and you'll have enough for five enhanced folks with more than enough reserves to fill in later."

Claude widened his eyes in shock. "General, are the new nobles insane? They're going to trade 100 thousand households for 500 thousand captives? We're in a war zone! Don't they care about the safety of those people moving here at all?"

Miselk laughed derisively. "Claude, you don't understand. The brass doesn't care about the safety of those households at all! They're more concerned with the 500 thousand captives they won't have to pay to order around. After all, they are really short on manpower in their newly conquered territory -- the 29 prefectures of the three defunct duchies.

"You might have heard of the troubles they've faced over the years. They had hoped to draw in mix-blood natives from our colonies, around a million of them, to make up for the manpower deficit. However, the shrines caused a fuss over the House of Dignitarians' vice chairman's proposal and tore it apart. That's why nothing more came of it, so they have to turn to us for the captives.

"While 100 thousand households sound like a lot, each of the 32 old prefectures of the kingdom have three thousand households. Sending them to us will save them lots of trouble. In fact, they'll have to thank us for this. Do you know why? It's simple. These peasant households all had someone who participated in the five-year war. They were discharged and sent home when it finally ended.

"As they didn't have enough merit and didn't serve enough time, they weren't able to gain dignitarian status. But as they had participated in the war, they've grown more aware than the average peasant. Leaving them in their territory is akin to keeping unstable belligerents in their backyard. Most of them are rather poor peasant households who can't afford to move away to the newly conquered lands.

"However, the new nobility managed to find a loophole in the immigration regulations: while they're there to ensure that each prefecture could fulfill its drafting quota, the kingdom actively encourages any of those households that wants to be settlers to move to the colonies by not restricting them that much. The settlers also get to enjoy dignitarian benefits as peasants and are more easily able to make a good living.

"That's what made the near-million settlers we have come in the first place. Every time a war ends the number of settlers increases. If the war hadn't happened on Nubissia, we'd definitely have even more coming. When the discharged soldiers get moved from the prefectures to the colonies, the situation there will stabilise. That also aligns with the kingdom's emigration policy, so there's another benefit there.

"The burden for the moving settlers is considerably lightened thanks to the new nobility footing their costs. We also provide them with career opportunities here in the war theatre. The discharged soldiers have a chance to rejoin service to get their dignitarian status, so it's something everyone can be satisfied with. The risk of losing one's family, is, after all, unavoidable no matter what. It's something they have to accept if they agree to move to the colonies.

"As for the 20 local keeper tribes, they mostly come from the new nobility's territories. The former officers will get everything ready for us before we take them in. What comes next is up to you. Reorganise the five folks and perfect the defence lines. Remember, you only have three years at most..."

Chapter 362 - Spending and Promotion

"General, I have a question," Claude said after considerable thought, "It's about the 100 thousand settler households. What's the career you mentioned they'll be given?"

"It's quite straightforward," the Lord Militant answered, "If they want to farm, we'll give them a piece of land. Up to eight acres should be enough. We just need to state clearly that they own the land and leave everything else be. You should know peasants have a really hard time becoming landowners back on Freia. Their only real chance is going to the frontier here on Nubissia. What happens afterward is all on them, of course.

"You don't have to worry about these things as field marshal. You just have to make sure the department that manages the settlers, which is under your jurisdiction, is ready to settle them when they arrive. Our colonies are still almost entirely unpopulated. Just choose a couple spots and build a couple towns and villages. Don't neglect the mines. Those who don't want to farm will be sent to the mines."

Claude nodded. Such arrangements being in place, it should be a relatively easy task for the settlers to make a survivable living here. For most it would not be much, but it would be much better than what they could get back home.

All the households were headed by a retired veteran. Amongst them, enough were still young enough to form 20 keeper tribes. With all the vets, the old Ranger men in the local garrisons, and the colonial corps, Claude believed, hoped, it would be enough.

Each of the five enhanced folks had 32 thousand men -- 160 thousand in all. Shiks was sending ten corps, six hundred thousand men. By comparison the 160 thousand Claude had would be just barely enough to hold his namesake line of defence, and only because Dorinibla was such a formidable obstacle.

"I understand manpower is no longer a problem, but what of funds? How do we deal with logistics and upkeep?"

"Ahem..." Miselk cleared his throat and looked at Claude, frustration obvious on his face, "So I have to draw pictures for you? Fine. The daily necessities will be supplied by Mormaly, Aduras, and Tyrrsim. They've always produced substantial surpluses, we might as well make use of it.

"The Ministry of the Army has agreed to provide us with the initial gear. It should arrive by the 3rd month. They won't do anything after that, however. The funds have run dry, so this is all they can do. We'll have to look after ourselves with the factories they've permitted to be opened here. As for funds, that's our baby as well.

"Speaking of funds, the ministry can only give us 100 thousand crowns for the next two years. They know this isn't enough, so they've granted you special permission to levy a tax on the colonists.

"Mormaly, Aduras, and Tyrrsim's taxes thus far have equalled 300 thousand crowns annually. It should be enough to maintain our force. If not, we'll just have to cut until it is."

Claude frowned. A force of 32 thousand men, just one of his folks, would suck 60 thousand crowns in salary alone, and that did not include any bonuses and other benefits. The lowest-ranking grunt made 2 crowns a year. The average sergeant-major made double that, and the pay just got more the higher the rank. At the very least, the bare damn minimum, his folks would cost him 300 thousand crowns a year. Again, that was salaries only. He didn't even want to think about all the rest. This alone was already enough to bankrupt Aduras, Tyrrsim, and Mormaly, and that was without considering the funds that were needed to govern those colonies. They also had maintenance costs. They had staff that needed salaries, roads that needed upkeep, and any infinite number of other miscellaneous expenses.

Even if he didn't think about the monetary costs of the folks' other supplies, there were some things that couldn't be bought. Fresh fruit and vegetables could not be preserved and transported in large enough quantities from those three rear colonies even if they could supply them, to begin with. He had to figure out a way to source them locally.

Then there was also the little matter of such costs being purely upkeep. His five folks would be green as spring grass. Brand spanking new! He had to train them, and that would easily triple the associated costs. He needed at least 400 thousand crowns if he was to accomplish anything, even after cutting almost everything down to the bone.

It was one thing to say the money could be gotten from the colonies, but another entirely to actually do it. The theatre over which he had command contained four colonies, but two were completely deserted; there were literally no people to tax. Robisto was basically a giant military base; barely any civilians remained.

Amongst the four, Anfiston was the only one approaching a true colony. It was both the oldest and most developed of the seven Aueran colonies on Nubissia. It had four full-fledged cities, a fishing town, and another town, along with a slew of villages. The four cities focused on industry, mostly mining. Whilst the colony did produce some food locally, most of it was imported from the other colonies.

Now it was going to get an additional 100 thousand households, most to solve that very food problem. They could not be taxed for the first three years of their stay, however, so on that front they were completely useless. Anfiston could just barely make 100 thousand on particularly good years, and with three of its prime customers now all but dead, that was unlikely to be the case for some time.

"What do we do? We're still 200 thousand short. I can't see a way to get anything done without that. Are the colonies going to be abandoned wholesale? I don't see what else could be done with the funds we're being given."

"How did you come up with that number?" Miselk asked, "I thought you'd leave those worries to logistics? You're the field marshal, worry about the war and leave these things to the appropriate people."

"Right now, logistics is our war, General," Claude countered, "We have the numbers, and we can turn them into men capable of defeating the enemy. There is no question of our victory on that front. Our fight is in getting the money and supplies to make that possible."

Logistics is our war.

Miselk mulled thought over for several moments, then drowned in budgets and calculations. When Claude was done, Miselk laughed.

"You're still calculating the men's pay based on full combat pay. Ranger's men are now keepers. Keepers don't make as much. A Ranger grunt made eight riyas before. With averaged bonuses, that's one thale a month. He'd make 12 thales a year, or two crowns and two thales. Ranger was a regular contingent, however. The five folks you have are irregulars, with just half pay.

"They make just four riyas a month, six if you include generous bonuses. 72 riyas a year is just seven thales. About a crown and two thales a year. The whole lot will cost you just 250 thousand crowns. You should have 50 thousand surplus."

Claude stared at the General, shock colouring his face.

"If you lower the salary when the men transfer, how many would stay?"

Miselk smiled and shook his head.

"Claude, the ones transferred to the keepers were members of the original Ranger, not the new recruits. There's only 20 thousand. While their benefits are less, they were all promoted a rank to compensate. With the increased pay of their new ranks and the other benefits, they should be no worse off than they were before.

"You should know men value promotions over income. They're after the benefits, not the salary. Especially the fast track to dignity. Even in irregular corps, the benefits of their higher rank will be better than what they got before in Ranger, especially the reduction to their required service time for dignity.

"They are now the cores of the new folks, so each will only get four thousand of them. Most of the rest will be drafts from the reservists amongst the settlers and new recruits from the other colonies' keeperies. As for the two colonial corps, they were irregulars to begin with, so while their benefits didn't decrease, their salaries aren't as high as you thought. You shouldn't have made your estimates based on Ranger's benefits. You'll save 100 thousand crowns."

Claude finally understood where he had gone wrong. As Miselk had said, calculating the salaries according to irregulars' standards reduced his budgetary requirements by a third. The 100 thousand crowns they were to be given for the next two years might just be enough. If things went well, they could perhaps even have a little surplus.

"And don't forget what we rangers do best. We can save a lot by attacking enemy supply lines and scavenging their ammunition and food. We ordered the colonial corps to send men to Port Patres and Dorinibla too.

"So far, we've gotten a few hundred cannons from the ships and we can use them as suppression fire for the two defence lines. That saved us even more money. I'm sure you know that the cannons are built to the same standard as our own, so the compatible ammunition saved us lots of trouble.

"One more thing: while the ammunition and gear of the Shiksan soldiers are not compatible with our own, we can modify them to work with us. That'll further decrease costs. We just have to pay a small fee for the modification."

Miselk smiled and shot Claude a gentle gaze. "I'm sure you can relax now, right? The supplies we have stocked up is worth around 200 thousand gold crowns. After Ranger leaves for Freia, the supplies will be left behind. So, you won't have to worry about logistics for the five folks.

"Oh, I also have another piece of good news. When the gear of the kingdom's army arrives, there's also another order for promotion. All seven colonels from Ranger transferring to the five folks will be promoted to major-generals. Don't be surprised. It's the kingdom's reward for your efforts at the frontlines here."

It was indeed delightful news. He didn't think the promotion of soldiers transferring away from ranger would include a colonel like him. Unlike promotions from private to corporal or second lieutenant to first lieutenant, a jump from colonel to major-general was huge. In peacetime, it would take a colonel serving ten years for that. During wartime, they would need three first-class merits.

But Claude knew that whether it was him taking over as field marshal or being promoted to major-general, the fact that those promotions were permitted by the ministry of the army meant that their outlook on the upcoming conflict was bad. In other words, they wanted him to be the scapegoat for the loss in the war theatre if he couldn't emerge victorious.

"I'll be here for about three more months, so we're short on time," Miselk said, "I hope that I will be able to help you solve the core issues of the five folks before I go. In the following days, I will summon the other officers and we'll have to finalise who serves in HQ of this war theatre.

"Give the plan I drafted for this war theatre a good look to see if there's something you need to correct or make up for. Write me a report about it. Then, wait for the start of the meeting. You'll have to attend it and have a good chat with your future colleagues."

Claude stood up with the blue document in hand and straightened for a salute before turning to leave.

Just as he stepped out of the door, Miselk remembered something and stopped him. "By the way, Claude, that vice linesman, Lieutenant-Colonel Schnack, will be transferred back to corps command. He'll serve as the vice supervisor of corps administration."

Claude looked shocked. What did Schnack do wrong? The change of post from vice linesman to vice supervisor was a subtle demotion. One had actual power in the corps while the other was a goon doing chores. Apart from having to run others' errands, he'd have to smile out of courtesy no matter how badly he didn't want to.

"Don't blame Lieutenant-Colonel Schnak. He's actually a fairly straightforward and honest person, but he doesn't understand that not everyone bearing the Stellin name represents the royal family, so not every one of them deserves our loyalty. He was tricked by General Fansnik to hand your line's spoil-distribution accounts to the general."

Claude's eyes turned into saucers.

Chapter 363 - Mister Weyblon

Myjack welcomed him.

"Where are we going now?"

Claude weaselled into his coach with a heavy heart.

"Back home. I don't want to return to line HQ."

"Yes."

Myjack closed the door and informed the coachman of their destination. The coach jerked into motion and rolled down the street. Gum and the guard circled it protectively.

Ranger's HQ was in Grinosburg, the largest mountain city in the colony as well as a major centre of the mining industry. Claude had always suspected the reason Grinosburg was made the colony's capital was the two gold mines just outside its boundary. The former viceroy and high-commissioner must've listened to the mine's operators and owners carefully.

He recalled when Prince Hansbach came to survey Ranger. When the independent colony governments were being dissolved to form the new central theatre-wide government, the viceroy and high-commissioner were quite unwilling to part with their positions. The grapevine, or mine-cart as the case may be, had it that they had their fingers on a tenth of the mine's profits in return for their 'careful consideration' of their needs and interests.

Grinosburg was deep in the mountains. It was a tough destination, not to mention a long one. It was quite uncommon for colonial capitals to be anywhere but on the coast, even less common for them to be in such remote locations. Line 131's base had once been in Ferro, in the former Balingana some 150 kilometres from Grinosburg. With the theatre's restructure, however, the town had been merged into Robisto. One of Claude's first victories on Nubissia was the night attack on the town. They destroyed a whole line and took some three thousand captives.

Claude's home stood in Lanu, however. The family preferred the weather and view. Angelina had taken to frequent visits, well, as frequent as the trek allowed, and had dragged the family along on her latest one. Claude could not let them stay in inns during their visit, so he rented a quaint mansion in Lanu.

"Send someone to HQ with my orders. They're to pull back to Lanu and pitch camp outside the town," Claude said.

He had decided he would pitch his HQ in Lanu and make it the colony's new capital. It was a much more sensible choice to Grinosburg, both from a military, and from an economic and general governance perspective. He would never have made Grinosburg the colony's capital in the first place if it had been up to him.

The manor stood on the shores of a local lake, and he could see it perched on a small outcropping of land, overwatching the lake long before he reached it. Weyblon Manor was the summer home of a local mining guild chief. The chief had rented it to Claude for one crown a month. He already had a pleasant, if not friendly, relationship with Claude and hoped to improve his standing with the new overlord some.

The manor closed slowly, like a ship drifting to anchor in one of Nubissia's many harbours and the coach finally shuddered to a halt. Another stood nearby, resplendent in black with a stylised 'Wey' embossed on the door. Someone from the mansion's owning family was present.

It seemed the rich chased after the nobility as much in this world as on old Earth. The rich, being of common stock as they were, did not have family crests to place on their coach doors as the nobility did, but that didn't mean they wouldn't put something there to emulate them. The aristocracy were the cream of the crop, and the rich did everything in their power to emulate them. They bought equally extravagant, if not moreso, country mansions and extensive estates. They chased after the same fashion, styled their names and surnames after trends among the aristocracy; and emulated their family crests with emblems of their own which they pasted everywhere a noble would -- one of which was the doors of their coaches, hence the 'Wey' on the coach Claude noticed as he stepped out of his own.

Claude grimaced. He was technically renting the place, but Weyblon had made several visits in the couple of weeks since he'd moved in and had brought gifts well in excess of the rent he'd paid. He didn't know exactly what the man saw in him, but he clearly considered Claude someone worthy of his substantial investments. He supposed he could not fault the man's judgement. He was to become a major-general in just three months, and then there was also the matter of becoming field marshal -- the most powerful man on the continent.

Alek, the butler, was suddenly bowing to him. He didn't know how the man did it, but he moved so quietly that he appeared to appear and vanish out of and into thin air.

"Welcome home, Sir."

Again, he could not fault Weyblon's judgement. He'd been the one to recommend Alek to him. He was a former butler to royalty, though not the crown household itself, but to a closely related count's family. He was the third of three generations to have served the count. He would have been content to spend the rest of his life in the position, but the latest count was a spoilt brat. He made several ill-advised investments, despite his servants and advisor's desperate warnings, including Alek's, and bankrupted the family. The count naturally turned to the bottle as he drowned in depression despite Alek's best efforts to cheer him up. He found Alek's sincere efforts annoying instead, and chased him out of the castle not long after.

Despite being in the absolute right, Alek was blacklisted among the kingdom's aristocracy. He knew he would never find decent work again within the kingdom's borders, and no noble would hire a foreign servant, especially not one with relatively close ties to foreign royalty, so other kingdoms were not an option either. He thus turned to the colonies and came to Nubissia. Weyblon was quick witted enough to recognise the value in a former butler to royalty -- again, after a fashion -- and tried to hire him. Being a former butler to royalty, however, Alek had standards. He would only serve proper nobility. Weyblon eventually gave up on him, though he kept tabs on his location, should he have use, or need, of his services in the future -- which it turned out he did.

Normally, Alek would not have accepted serving a mere baron, and a new one at that, but Claude had gained a reputation during the previous war, and he was a new baron and a rapidly promoted military officer at a very young age. He still had a lifetime of potential, and a demonstrated ability to turn that potential into reality, so Alek was willing to bend a little and bet on him.

"Did Mister Weyblon come for a visit?"

"Yes. He came to visit Madame Ferd and Lady Kefnie. Mister Weyblon said you would be back today and hopes to meet with you. He is resting in one of the guestrooms," Alek answered, his posture elegant, yet subservient. A superb balance of dignity and self-confidence from his background, and humility in front of his lord.

"I will have something to eat, then a bath. I have much work to do thereafter so I will retire to my study for the rest of the afternoon. If Mister Weyblon is yet awake he can join me there in an hour."

The pair had made it to the mansion's front door while they chatted and Claude took off his outer layer and handed it to Alek. Normally, that would have been Alek's job, but Claude was not willing to have the man do literally everything for him. He was a grown man for goodness' sake. He could at least put on and take off his clothes on his own.

Alek had the kitchen staff warm up the plate they'd kept for Claude and Myjack from lunch and served it to them in short order. Kefnie joined them shortly after. She was pregnant yet again.

"You're back quickly!" she said as she stepped into the dining hall.

Claude usually returned for just one weekend a month and his last visit had been just the previous weekend.

He smiled and gave his wife a short but passionate kiss.

"I am, and for good this time. I've moved the line to Lanu."

"Really?"

Kefnie was overjoyed. She'd spoken less to her husband since their marriage than she had to him as just another boy in school back in Whitestag. While she was naturally proud of her man's success in his career, every promotion stole more of his time. She'd hoped he would be discharged after the war and spend the rest of his life calmly at home, perhaps running a small local business or taking a position in the local government. Life had not worked out that way, however. Instead of the rural, country housewife who managed a small vegetable garden, had a couple of chickens, maybe a cow, and mostly cooked and looked after the house and children, with a live-in husband, she was a baroness. She'd not touched a cow, chicken, or vegetable since moving to Nubissia, though she insisted on making her snacks and the kid's warm milk late at night herself, despite the servant's protests that a lady does not touch food with anything but a knife and fork, or spoon.

Claude returned to the table after fondling his wife thoroughly.

"Really. Where's Tesoray?"

Tesoray, their son, was born in Year 582. Six years had since passed and the boy was now at his naughtiest. Claude was seldom home, so his mother had spoilt him rotten. He barely even recognised his father, which brought Kefnie no end of unhappiness.

"He was stung by a hornet in the garden this morning. He's been crying most of the day. Mother had Anna come home and soothe the sting. He's asleep now."

Claude was actually happy the boy got stung. Naughty children learnt best when their antics backfired on them. And rather a sting or two now than a pregnant girl's furious father or the local authorities later. Kefnie was not as worry free as him, however. With his almost eternal absence she clung to their son with all her might, and any hurt he suffered was an injury to her; and she demanded -- in as much as Kefnie was capable of demands -- he have his guards sweep the grounds for a hornet's nest.

He almost wanted to tell her that they should instead protect the hornets from their son, since the brute already had a streak of vengefulness in him which did worry Claude somewhat, but he decided against it. He did not want to face a furious wife, sister, and mother the moment he no longer had a faraway HQ to which to escape.

Claude took a quick bath after the meal, then met Weyblon in his study in casual clothes. Nobility would have been deeply offended at not being greeted in proper attire, but Weyblon understood it was to be taken as a compliment. If he'd been greeted in formal attire, it would have signified that their relationship was distant and purely business. Being greeted in casual clothing meant Claude considered him a personal friend.

When Claude asked how he know of his return, he happily explained that he'd heard of Claude's summoning to the field marshal's headquarters and assumed it meant he would be returning home, probably because he'd been granted extended leave since combat was unlikely for the next year or more.

"Alright. That doesn't explain why, knowing of my return, you came to my manor. While I welcome any visit of yours, I know you better than to think this is just a casual visit."

Weyblon held off on answering until Alek had served them tea and left, closing the door behind him.

During their initial interactions, Weyblon had been very taken aback by Claude's distinct lack of the airs other nobles were so fond of putting up, but he had since grown accustomed to it and considered it a mark of the young man's good, sensible character.

"Lord. One reason, of course, is to congratulate you on your impending promotion to major-general and appointment to field marshal by the Lord Militant. I came unannounced because I wish to discuss a matter of a rather... personal nature."

Claude's heart sunk. He'd expected as much, but the man's tone told him it was something rather more substantial than he expected. He supposed the fact that the man wished to keep his visit as quiet as possible should have hinted at this possibility, but he had not given it much thought.

"Please, my Lord. You need not be so cautious. I doubt more than a handful of people on the continent know of this. I sourced this information from the capital."

Claude breathed a sigh of relief. He did not like the idea of their internal moves being so easy to discover that a mere local businessman could learn of it even faster than the man which it concerned. It turned out that Weyblon merely happened to have a well-placed source in the capital.

"You have a source in the capital too?" Claude asked.

Weyblond nodded.

"The guilds have an office in the capital. Every year, we send all the gold and silver we mine to the kingdom's bank.

"So when we heard of Ranger returning to the kingdom and the Lord Militant stepping down as field marshal, we were shocked and very worried. This does concern out safety most intensely, after all.

"Luckily my source had also heard that you had been pegged to replace the Lord Militant as field marshal, with the related staffing changes.

"I've spoken with the rest of the board, and we've also had discussions with the other guilds, and we feel you are more than capable of holding the colonies and governing effectively as field marshal."

"Just where does your glowing confidence come from?"

Weyblon laughed.

"The Lord Militant does speak quite highly of you every opportunity he gets. Your exploits have not failed to impress, either. Your earning of the order of knighthood during the last war was most impressive."

"You certainly do your homework," Claude resigned, "That still leaves the question as to the personal matter behind your visit."

"Indeed. Well... we also know of the settlers being sent over. The Mining and Commerce Board's chairman, Henderman, would like to discuss their placement in the colony."

"He has a proposal?"

"Yes. We know the idea is to have most of them start up farms. We hope to convince you of the benefits of having a portion of them settled around the mines instead. We've been making due with nikancha for some years now, but they can only do so much. If we are to expand our operations we will need properly educated subjects of the kingdom.

"It would also help to have a larger population of subjects from the kingdom in the cities. The nikancha have too many numbers in the cities and it's been detrimental to their continued growth. We're willing to help with financing for anyone who wants to start a business in the cities. We'll even provide free accommodation."

Population was wealth. The merchants needed customers, and the mines needed workers.

"I'll speak with the chairman and hear what he has to say. I don't promise anything, and at best I'll only allow willing settlers to move to the cities. I will not force anyone and I will not tolerate any coercion or false advertising."

Weyblon nodded gratefully. He knew this was the most he could do. It would be unreasonable of him to assume he could sell the idea to Claude. The best he could do was convince him to hear the chairman out.

"There is another matter. I'd like to discuss the possibility of the board and the organisations its members represent donating 100 thousand crowns to the war chest. We are most dissatisfied with the amount of support the kingdom is giving. Since we have benefitted from your, the Lord Militant's, and the rest of the army in the colonies' efforts, and have a vested interested in your continued success, we would like to do what we can to aid you in that regard."

Donating 100 thousand crowns for the military effort?! This was no small matter. Claude's mood warmed up immediately and he launched into a flurry of thanks, failing to notice Weyblon had emphasised new war theatre. It meant the money would not show up until Claude had taken over officially. Besides their vested interest in ensuring the kingdom maintained control over the colonies, they also preferred Claude over Lord Militant Miselk. The Lord Militant had lived an entire life back on Freia and had roots -- a family, business, estates, and an extensive social network -- back in the kingdom. Claude, on the other hand, had little tying him to the kingdom. He was young, he had earned his current rank and his future position as field marshal on Nubissia, and, most importantly, his entire family had relocated to the new continent. He was more a Nubissian than a mainland Aueran, and it meant he was far more amenable to their gentle ministrations, and, since his power base was on Nubissia, not in Aueras, it also meant he was more reliant on their support.

Chapter 364 - Drivick

While Claude was a mere logistics manager in his past life, he had seen many different markets and industries operate. It was just like the saying, 'one can eat a lot of pork without even knowing how a pig's feet look like'. That was the reason for the disparity between his obedient behavior in front of Miselk and his absolutely casual attitude towards Mister Weyblon.

Even though the mining tycoon had invested an astronomical sum in Claude for the sake of his business, Claude didn't show any surprise or veneration at all. Instead, he remained rather ambiguous. It didn't seem like he would continue to let the mining companies reap the benefits after taking over from Miselk. However, he knew that merchants were after profit. He was well aware that they wanted to invest in him because they wanted even more profit.

Claude initially thought that Weyblon was just going to talk about the first two matters. He didn't think that after some guessing about the kingdom's war situation, the man would just toss a new bank account in front of Claude.

"What do you mean by this?" Claude asked, as he wondered whether Weyblon was trying to bribe a public official. Doing so was a little too blatant, to be honest.

Weybron, however, merely laughed. "Lord Baron, this is an unmarked bank account. The password is back there. No matter who puts their name on it, they'll be able to withdraw the money within using the password. However, there's only one riyas in it for now.

"I'm sure you've heard that the viceroy and high-commissioner of Anfiston obtain ten percent of the dividends of profits from the mines. This book is for the account that receives that dividend. The money will only be transferred at the end of the year. Currently, Anfiston is considered part of the war theatre, so there's no longer a viceroy and high-commissioner occupying those positions. That's why the field marshal of the war theatre shall enjoy these benefits."

Claude laughed and looked at the account book. It was indeed without a name. However, he immediately tossed it back to the table. "Why are you giving this to me so soon? I believe Lord Militant Miselk is still the field marshal for now. You should give it to him. I should wait until next year before I get that bonus."

Weyblon nodded in admission. "The Lord Militant naturally has one such book as well. The dividends of the past two years were claimed by him. However, he wouldn't be getting any this year, as he will be returning to the royal capital on the 11th month. We will send him off with another grand gift on a separate occasion. Either way, the dividends from the mines are only issued during the end of the 12th month, so he no longer qualifies to receive it. Since you're going to take over, this should belong to you."

"Wow, you guys are really superficial. Lord Militant Miselk missed out on such a huge chunk of income because he worked one month short... Maybe I should convince him to return to the royal capital on the 1st month of next year instead. At least, he'd be able to get this year's."

Weyblon's face reddened a bit. "Lord Baron, it's not that we don't value our past relationships, but such is the regulation of the association. The dividends are only given to the highest authority in Anfiston, whether it be viceroy, high-commissioner or field marshal. No matter new or old, the one serving during the day the dividends are distributed shall receive it."

A local lawyer was always more reliable than a faraway judge. Odd as that saying sounded, it was a rather reasonable one. There was nothing anybody could say about it save complain about their luck. Miselk was just short of a month to receive those dividends. However, Claude simply smiled. Miselk naturally wouldn't care about that kind of money. He suspected that he only received the money before to work with how things were done in Anfiston instead of causing them trouble.

"Alright, my friend, I'll accept the goodwill of your association. Is there anything else?" Claude asked. Seeing him shake his head, he pressed, "Didn't you say there was a personal matter you needed my help with?"

"Oh, well..." Weyblon began his explanation.

He had two sons and a daughter. His daughter, the eldest, had long been married and his younger son was still a child and would only mature in two years. Currently, he was studying in the middle school of Grinosburg as an academic stream student. What made Weyblon worry was his elder son, Drivick, aged 29.

What surprised Claude was that Drivick was actually a retired soldier that had taken part in the five-year war. Claude recalled that there was no draft in the seven colonies of Nubissia at that time, so how did he end up serving?

He didn't think that Drivick would actually sneak to the mainland of Aueras on Freia to join the force as a voluntary conscript. Weyblon had initially wanted his son to serve military service in Anfiston's local garrison. The unexpected actions of his son almost caused him to have a heart attack. His wife went to the war god shrine to pray day in and out for their son to come back safely.

And maybe, her devout prayers really managed to move the war god. Their son managed to survive the five-year war without a single injury and was even promoted to first lieutenant. However, he was now part of an irregular corps. During the post-war layoffs, Drivick was one of the low-ranking officers to be let go. He couldn't even continue serving if he wanted to, so he eventually returned to Anfiston.

Having returned home, Drivick settled down some more and became a manager of Weyblon's mining company before marrying a year later. He was now the father of three. In a few more years, Weyblon could hand over the family business to him. Little did he know that his son's penchant for misadventures would still exist despite being in his late twenties. He had been thinking of enlisting to become a soldier once more to fulfil his dreams and eventually, the family fell into chaos and arguments. That didn't, however, change his determination to join the army.

"Why does he want to enlist no matter what?" Claude wondered. Discharged soldiers, especially junior officers, wouldn't be forced to enlist in the force even if they didn't have dignitarian status unless it was the most urgent of times when nearly all men would have to head to the frontlines -- weapon in hand. Either that or they could enlist willingly and gain a post fitting to their previous rank.

For instance, most of the discharged soldiers of the 100 thousand households were peasants and lived in poverty. That was why they fell for the new nobility's bait to move to Nubissia. For the sake of their families' livelihoods, they were willing to pick up their weapons once more to serve and fight on the battlefield.

Drivick, however, was different. He didn't have to worry about his family's livelihood at all. In fact, his family could be considered to be among the top ten richest on the continent. He was nothing short of a rich tycoon. Not to mention, there was no difference between a peasant and a dignitarian in the Nubissian colonies. Apart from some slight difficulty in getting public servant jobs, the peasants shared most of their rights with the dignitarians.

"He's never let go of his childhood dream of becoming a general..." Weyblon helplessly explained. Apparently, it was Drivick's childhood dream to join the force and fight in a war and eventually gain enough merits till he ended up becoming a famous general of the kingdom by the end of it all. However, as he happily went to the royal capital on horseback and suddenly fell off it, his dream ended just like that.

"Back then, he told us about his dreams and I remembered encouraging him by saying that he might one day become a famous general. Perhaps he took what I said to heart and immediately believed that the start of the war in Eastern Freia was the call of fate for him. That's why he bought a ferry ticket behind my back to the mainland and volunteered for service..."

Given his voluntary enlistment and brave feats that earned him a promotion, he would've been retained as an officer after the war ended. However, he was born in the colonies and had should've served there instead.

Not to mention, his unit was an irregular corps which had to be decreased in scope after the war. So, he was forcefully discharged and left with nothing but a recommendation letter he could use to continue his career in the military in the colonial forces.

Though, Drivick was completely uninterested in joining the forces in those seven colonies, having participated in the five-year war. He knew what kind of people made up those forces. Being an officer there was nothing but trouble, not to mention most of the officer positions were taken by those close to the high-commissioner. Someone like Drivick wouldn't be taken to kindly in any of those colonial units.

As a result, he had nothing better to do than to help out at home. He didn't think Shiks would turn their attention to the colonies, however. Ever since the war broke out on Nubissia, Drivick had wanted to serve, but his wife happened to be near her next delivery. Fearing that she would suffer from shock, not to mention the lack of a proper enlistment order for him and the pleading of his parents, he gave up on the notion.

Yet, he didn't think Shiks wouldn't let up after losing two series of battles on the colonies and even declare they would form ten more standing corps to send them to Nubissia and wipe away their humiliation. Drivick couldn't hold his desire to join the army again back. His youngest child was now two and a half, so he no longer hesitated and steeled his resolve to enlist.

Unable to convince his son otherwise, Weyblon could only look for a good unit for his son to enlist in. After much thought, he came to the conclusion that Claude's unit would be the best for it. First, Line 131 was an aggressive unit that often earned huge merit in battle, so it was most likely for his son to get promoted there. Additionally, Weyblon also noticed that Claude won with surprisingly few casualties.

So, he personally came to ask Claude to let his son join his unit. Perhaps, in his eyes, letting his son join Claude might give him an actual chance of eventually becoming a general. If he could get a noble Title by doing so, then Weyblon could die with no regrets.

"My friend, is this really your decision?" Claude said with a worried look, "Joining the force is a dangerous affair. Anything can happen on the battlefield and even I sometimes have to fight for my life. If you really decide to make him my subordinate, you and your wife might have to brace for losing him. I am not joking."

Claude tried to be honest, but Weyblon simply nodded. "Lord Baron, I am aware that our request is already rather troubling for you. But since our son Drivick is so set on becoming a soldier of the kingdom, we decided to let him pursue his dreams.

"After making this tough decision, we understand that this won't be an easy path. It is one filled with both glory and danger and we might lose him at any moment. All we hope is for him to manage to become a proud soldier of the kingdom, even if he falls while doing so. It is a path he chose to take, so we won't feel too pained over it."

Claude mulled in deep thought for a good moment before nodding. "My friend, since you've gone so far to request it, I shall give your son a chance. Line 131 will be moving from Ferro to Lanu soon. Just bring Drivick to our command post by then. I will make him our strategist.

"As for his rank, he'll resume service as a first lieutenant, the same one he had when he was discharged. Let him familiarise himself with the military first. He has, after all, left the force for so long. He'll also have to relearn our new tactics. Naturally, I am not able to make him a ranger directly. I'm just giving him a chance to become a proper soldier once more.

"Lord Militant Miselk has decided that within three months of his resignation, we will have to form the framework of the five enhanced folks. Later, more settlers will arrive and we'll have enough men for the folks. We'll only need to recruit enough from the towns to staff the folks fully. If your son truly has talent in leading, I'll make sure to put him to good use and give him a good position in the folk I'm in direct command of."

"Thank you, thank you, Lord Baron." Weyblon was overjoyed.

After sending off the couple, Claude could finally get a few good days of rest. However, it wasn't as rejuvenating as he'd thought it would be. His mischievous and disobedient son gave him quite a bit of a headache and he felt the urge multiple times to give him a good beating to teach him a lesson, only to be stopped by his mother from doing so. The stinking brat already knew that he could escape all consequence for any mischief as long as he went to his grandmother. No matter how mad Claude got, there was nothing much he could do about it.

Apart from his son, his mother's constant nagging really got to his head. He wasn't the target for all of it, however; Angelina was. Sometimes, Claude wondered if his sister mixed up chemistry and physics. She was no longer doing herbal experiments and preferred to mix around the explosives Claude taught her to make in her alchemy array. She had no choice but to move her laboratory to a decrepit corner of the lake to make sure the explosions from her experiments didn't startle the other townsfolk.

A week later, Line 131 arrived in Lanu. On the same day, Claude received an eagle message from Miselk that summoned him post-haste for the preparation meeting for the new war council.

Chapter 365 - Explosives and Ignition Powder

After Lieutenant-Colonel Schank was transferred to war theatre HQ, he brought quite a bit of trouble to Claude. Within the span of the week, a mountain of paperwork had built up, most of them being the various things Schnak had been in charge of. Claude stayed in his office for the whole afternoon impatiently to finish them up. He had to depart during the night for Grinosburg to be able to make it to the meeting on time.

But the moment he entered the carriage, Claude found Myjack with a beat-up face. He didn't need to ask to know that it was the work of his sister.

"What? Anna got into a fight with you again and even struck you?" Claude asked with concern.

"Ah, no... it isn't that..." Myjack hurriedly explained, "I went to send Anna her dinner during the evening and helped her out with an experiment. An explosion went off there and a basin that was sent flying struck me on the forehead..."

Claude sighed. He didn't believe his aide and brother-in-law at all. Myjack had always been chewed at by Angelina and he didn't dare to go against her at all. When she was feeling down from a failed experiment, she would even go all out and vent on him. Regardless, there was not much Claude could say about it. It was a matter between husband and wife and he could only watch and sympathise.

It could all be blamed on Claude telling the story of explosion freak Alfred Nobel to Angelina, but with him being a magus of their world as the twist. Claude said that Nobel discovered a black powder even more powerful than their current gunpowder. He had read that the magus Nobel mixed lime and sulphuric acid to make a kind of liquid, nitroglycerin, which was toxic and volatile and could be used to treat heart diseases.

Then, Magus Nobel tried to experiment with making nitroglycerin safer. In the end, he decided that mixing it with dirt allowed for easier storage. It was said that this kind of explosive was more than ten times more effective than conventional black powder. It was too bad nobody showed much interest in Nobel's innovation during the magic civilisation.

Later, Nobel managed to create sulphuric acid with some coal tar to get a kind of bitter-tasting, solid powder called picric acid. Initially, it was used as a yellow dye, but it was also a kind of explosive which was far safer to handle than nitroglycerin. Nobel, according to Claude's tale, also went on to invent something called mercury fulminate. But the book he allegedly read didn't detail how that came about and only stated that it was highly unstable and would easily explode from contact with a spark.

In fact, nitroglycerin and picric acid were two types of explosives Claude had in mind. Nobel from old Earth was famous for developing nitroglycerin that allowed for the making of much safer explosives.

As for picric acid, it was something he had read about in web novels. The westerners made picric acid and merely used it as a kind of fuel for a hundred years until the French discovered its applications in war and went on to conquer the battlefield for a time. Later, the Japanese developed Shimose powder based on picric acid and went on to deal a huge blow to the Chinese's Beiyang fleet in the Battle of the Yalu River, kick-starting the half-century-long occupation.

As for mercury fulminate, Claude only knew it was a kind of explosive but didn't know how it came about. He was merely an IT manager by profession and was horrible at chemistry. He only learned it for the test and returned all of it to his teachers after the tests were done with. So, he couldn't recall how it came about at all. But if he could solve it, making proper jacketed bullets for guns would no longer be an issue.

Sulphuric acid and nitric acid both existed in this world according to what he heard, but their uses had yet to be discovered. Sulphuric acid, for instance, was a waste product from refining iron ore and was considered to be a strong corrosive. Nitric acid was the same. The alchemists managed to discover it during their experiments on saltpetre and treated it like a toxic substance.

Claude told Angelina that he got the biography on Magus Noble during the five-year war and tossed it aside after he finished reading it. When he moved, the book was lost, probably sitting somewhere at one of their previous campsites, much to Angelina's disappointment. She had wanted to read it for herself.

Claude knew that beneath his sister's refined and gentle exterior was a huge, trouble-making demon. Ever since he had her help out with designing the revolver and grenade, she put her herbalism studies on hold and fell in love with explosive experiments. What disappointed her was how weak black powder actually was. As a result, the grenades she made were a little too large and required lots of force to throw some 30 metres away.

Claude and Bloweyk could use Magus' Hands to throw them past a hundred metres. But normal soldiers on the battlefield couldn't. So, Claude told her to minimise the design by increasing the explosive's force. Only when a weapon could be used by the common soldier could it be called a well-designed one.

That was when he came up with the idea to rework Nobel into a magus of their world. Having heard the story, Angelina instantly popped into her herbalism lab and said she would make the explosives Nobel developed. Since she knew the names of the original ingredients, all she needed to do was find out the ratio they were needed through trial and error to find the proper one. Claude was quite worried and didn't know whether he should stop her or pray for her success.

Claude could no longer take the annoying nagging that started ever since the small wooden shed Angelina carried out her experiments in burned down due to her carelessness. If she didn't use Silence before her experiments, the explosion would have long shocked her mother unconscious. It wouldn't end with just a simple wooden shed burning down.

Having no other choice, he had Myjkack find Angelina an empty, two-room property near the lake for her experiments. Little did he know that his mother wouldn't be satisfied with that either. Angelina would often forget the time throughout her experiments and would neglect to groom herself. Even if she did make it home for dinner, she would always look rushed and covered in soot. Their mother had reminded her all too often to mind her attire and stay with Myjack longer to get pregnant with a child as Kefnie had.

While Angelina would always agree with a face full of smiles, she didn't take the slightest action the moment she turned around and left. So, their mother turned to Claude and hoped that he could do something about his disobedient sister. That was when his troubles began. He now regretted taking his men to Lanu where his mother's nags could easily reach him.

"Fine, I'll believe what you say about the basin. How's Anna's experiments going?" Claude seated himself in a comfortable position and closed his eyes to prepare for some rest. He had traveled a few hours during the night. It would be nearing three when he reached Grinosburg.

"I really was struck by the basin! I even got scolded by Anna for it..." Myjack stressed again, "Anna helped me with the medicine. The swelling should be gone tomorrow. She was also making a kind of transparent liquid with sulphuric acid and nitric acid. She called it nitrorin-something. Just like you said, it is unstable and dangerous. The slightest shock can cause it to explode. Anna said that she's experimenting with mixing it with different kinds of dirt to find the most suitable one."

"You should lie down and take some rest too," Claude said, "Tell Anna to try using clay. I recall the biography of Magus Nobel stated that he used a mixture of clay and nitroglycerin to make a safe explosive. It didn't describe how effective it was, but I did read that it was really easy to stick on walls and blast a hole through them with the smallest ignition."

"Alright, I'll make sure to tell her that when I get back."

"Get some sleep. We still have lots of ground to cover during the night." Claude said. The inside of the coach fell silent and the two gradually fell asleep to the rocking rhythm of the horse's trot. Only the two carriage-driving soldiers and the tent of guards outside the carriage were awake.

Just as Claude was rushing to Grinosburg, the first batch of settlers had arrived in Tyrrsim under escort by Storm. On Storm's flagship, Dragonwhirl, a white-haired old man seemed to be taking a casual walk, accompanied by an attractive woman. Behind the two was another young boy around the age of nine, looking around curiously.

"Father, I didn't think that the ones researching firearms in Aueras' National Firearms Institutes would be a bunch of stubborn fools. They refused to admit that the guns we developed that uses firing pins are far more convenient than their matchlocks. There's still so much we can do to develop it as well. However, the old fools insisted on keeping their muzzle-loading system for no good reason and believe that it is the most reliable and ideal method since it's been used for the past few centuries and stubbornly refused to adopt our breech-loading mechanics.

"I admit that loading from the breach is still a little testy, it can definitely be improved after a few more iterations, but they just shot it down without another word and even sent you to Nubissia to be some supervisor of their armouries... We could've refused that order and stayed at home doing our research before going to the old fools with the finished product to show them..." she complained.

The old man merely smiled. "Sonia, don't forget that Askilin is no more. We are Auerans now, and were even given noble Titles. There's a good reason those at the institute denied our breech-loading design. The reduction of the firing range by a third is huge enough.

"Additionally, loading from the back is rather troublesome at the moment. We'll need to clean out the burnt paper in the barrel each time before we can reload the next round. We also have to make sure the firing pins can accurately hit where they're supposed to. In this context, the traditional muzzle-loading guns are much faster, considering that the soldiers are already quite used to them.

"On the battlefield, soldiers are always on edge and straddling the fine line of line and death. They'll have to rely on movements drilled into them through long-term training. Using a breechloader requires attention to the distance between the firing pin and the bullet, which is something nervous soldiers can easily forget to do and will result in a misfire.

"I accepted the post because I want to use this chance to perfect our design. Is there a better place than an arms factory for us to do that? Even though that place is in the war theatre, war won't break out there for at least another three years as Shiks gets ready.

"If we use that time to develop our breechloader which gives the soldiers an edge in combat, wouldn't it be more valuable to the troops? You have to understand that firearms are fundamentally weapons. Their true value can only be shown through actual fighting, not the comments of a select few. The true experts are the soldiers on the battlefield. Only they are fit to judge what a good firearm should be like."

The beauty holding the old man's arm started in realisation. "Oh, so that's how it is, Father. I've faulted you wrongly. I thought you had compromised with the old fools who treat you like an outsider and even sent you to Nubissia. Yet, you took it without comment and let them mock my design without standing up for me. I was really angry back then and wanted to shoot their stone heads off..."

"Hahaha... Sonia, that doesn't make their opinions any less valid. Actually, I've been considering for quite a while why the breechloaders' shots are less powerful. I suspect two main reasons. First, the barrel's diametre relative to the bullet isn't tight enough, so a portion of the exploding gas that propels the bullet leaks out, hence the decrease in firing range.

"The other possibility is the ineffectiveness of the gunpowder we use. The paper-jacket bullets you made were far too thick. Not only did the amount of gunpowder kept within get decreased, they also leave a lot of residue in the barrel, rendering it useless for a second shot before further cleaning. That's why those at the institute would mock your breechloader for not being able to reload as quickly as a good old matchlock."

"But Father, the paper-jacket bullets are filled with the best gunpowder I can find! And if the paper jacket isn't thick enough, the firing pin can too easily push the paper jacket ahead and cause the ignition to extinguish. The bullet wouldn't be able to fire that way. I needed it to be thick enough to make sure it stays stuck in the barrel," she argued.

"That's something we can work on in the future. However, the problem with the gunpowder's power won't be easily solved--" The old man sighed. "--in the past few centuries, apart from magic crystals, we haven't been able to find a replacement for the ignition elements of gunpowder. Triggering an explosion with magic crystals also requires a magic array and the cost would be too high."

"But Father, didn't I invent ignition powder? I trust that with some time, we will soon develop a more powerful variety of gunpowder," she said with some slight dissatisfaction.

"Hah, you invented it?" The old man chuckled and waved for the child behind him to come to him before stroking his little head. "Without lil' Mark here, I doubt you would've discovered it before a year had passed. It's thanks to his naughty antics mixing those chemicals together that the discovery was made, hehe..."

The captain of Dragonwhirl, Leisding, came over. "Lord Count, Madam Baroness, the ship will soon enter the Sea of Storms. The weather here is really unpredictable. It's quite possible we'll run into huge storms. I would suggest that you return to rest in your quarters."

The old man nodded. "Thank you for the reminder, Colonel. We will return to our cabins so as to not cause you any trouble."

Chapter 366 - New Theatre Preparation Meeting

It was already a quarter to nine by the time Claude entered the meeting room, still 15 minutes before the meeting. By the time he reached Grinosburg, it was already midnight at three. He simply found an inn to settle his men down and rest for three hours. However, his rest wasn't a pleasant one given what was awaiting him the next day. Claude would be Miselk's successor. He would formally show up in front of others as the field marshal.

He didn't think that the others had long been waiting for the meeting to start. They quieted down a little eerily when he entered. It seemed that Miselk had already primed them for the revelation, so they knew Claude would soon be a field marshal.

The atmosphere was a little odd. Nobody spoke and a hint of awkwardness was in the air. At that moment, one person stood up and came to him with a face full of smiles and his arms wide open for a hug. Claude suddenly understood and hurriedly went to hug the man and patted his shoulders for a greeting. The awkwardness disappeared just like that. The meeting room's tension defused and people soon began chatting with one another again.

Two more people stood up and headed for Claude.

One of them was the vice logistics officer of the corps, Colonel Skri. He had quite an extensive relationship with Claude and used to be his superior back during their days in 1st Rangers. Claude was quite happy to see him. By the time Skri found a seat, Claude asked him with a surprised look, "So you're staying back too?"

Skri nodded. "Congratulations, my future superior. When Lord Militant Miselk came to see me and told me that you're being made field marshal, he asked whether I had any thoughts about it. I was truly happy for you back then and said I would be glad to work with you. After all, we're old partners."

Claude recalled the conversation he had with Miselk. The man did say there would be six other colonels that would stay back on Nubissia to be promoted to major-general together. Apart from Colonel Bolonik of 1st Monolith Folk and Colonel Sevict of 2nd Monolith Folk, there were four others. Since Ranger had around seventeen colonels in total, he couldn't guess who the others would be.

To his delight and relief, Skri was staying back. This meant that he wouldn't be on his own in the war theatre. At least Skri would side with him. Claude was well aware that he wouldn't be able to dominate the hierarchy that soon after assuming his position. As Miselk had mentioned, Claude only had direct command of Thundercrash and the four other enhanced folks had their respective commanding officers.

While Claude had the right to command the four enhanced folks around as field marshal, he could only inspect them without moving them directly. Anything he wanted to do with the folks had to go through their folksmen. Claude was worried there would be some who wouldn't be convinced of his credentials and go against him after Miselk left the place. Claude would then fall into a power struggle and duke it out with his own allies before he could focus on preparing for war.

However, Skri revealed something that made him feel relieved. It was obvious that when Miselk was picking people to join the new folks, he had asked each of the candidates what they thought of Claude being the field marshal. The officers who participated in this meeting were no doubt the ones who expressed support for Claude being Miselk's successor.

As for the officers who expressed their objection to that idea, Miselk would keep them in Ranger and take them back to the kingdom. He knew that preparing for war was a perilous task and there could be no tolerance for anyone who would object to Claude. They simply couldn't afford the time for infighting. To obtain victory in the war theatre, there could be opposing opinions, but they definitely couldn't be rooted in personal bias. Opinions should be made out of genuine concern instead of vindictive motives.

Colonels Sevict and Bolonik came over and greeted him. While they knew that Claude was going to become field marshal and their superior, their attitude towards him didn't change. They acted as they usually did as seniors to their junior as they talked about the matters in the corps. That helped Claude relax considerably.

Bolonik seemed to have recalled something as he waved for two other familiar-faced colonels to come over.

"Do you remember these two?" Bolonik asked.

Claude gave it some thought and nodded. "I know that they are my seniors from the high-level strategy class. If I remember correctly, you should be Eilon and he is Bick. I remember the two of you deeply for beating me so many times in the sand table simulations. I don't know if I remember this correctly, but I haven't heard anything about you ever since coming to Nubissia, nor did I see you two in corps command. Where have the lot of you been the last couple of years?"

"Hahahaha..." Sevict broke into a laughing fit. "Claude, you remember how many times they win but can't recall the time you defeated them? Those who have remembered you well. You've become their nightmare ever since and they kept wracking their brains to think of a way to defeat you..."

The rest broke into a hearty laugh. Claude scratched his head in embarrassment. "I really don't remember... I only know who defeated me and I had been fussing over how to win it back..."

Bolonik patted on Claude's shoulder and smiled. "Alright, let's not linger on our school memories. Claude, these two had been transferred to the colonial corps. That's why we didn't see them in Ranger. Eilon was in command of a local keeper line in the corps and he defended Port Patres from Seaking. Bick, on the other hand, reorganised the garrison forces in the three rear colonies and set up a coastal guard. The two of them have made some great contributions and are now going to be in the new war theatre with us."

Claude now knew that the two colonels would be the folksmen of the two reserve folks. However, Miselk did say that there would be seven people who would be promoted to major-general. There were only six people now present, so where was the last one? Claude swept his eyes around the room and saw only majors and lieutenant-colonels. There wasn't anyone else.

"Why are you lot gathering here?" a familiar and annoying voice sounded. He looked back and saw General Fansnik of the corps' logistics department. He marched into the room and looked stunned. "There's a meeting today? Why wasn't I notified?"

All of them ignored him and didn't answer his question, much to his rage. "Oh, you're not obeying your superior's orders, eh? Gathering privately and planning something sneaky, I see. Don't tell me this is a meeting called for by the corps. If so, why haven't I, the chief logistics supervisor, been given notice?"

"This is a meeting for the preparation of the new war theatre, General Fansnik. Please leave." Miselk entered the room, followed by a middle-aged man in formal wear. a colonel dressed in dark-blue keeper uniform and his aide, Lieutenant-Colonel Niwis.

"For the new war theatre?" Fansnik looked around and at the high-ranking officers and his eyes rolled. "Lord Militant, as a general of the kingdom, I request the right to listen in to the meeting."

"Apologies, you don't have that right." Miselk didn't hide his disdain for Fansnik at all. "General Fansnik, please leave immediately. Don't waste precious time."

"I object, Lord Militant, you are insulting a general of the kingdom," Fansnik said stubbornly, "If you don't let me listen in, that means you guys are going to discuss something nefarious. I have reason to suspect that this is a conspiracy against the royal family and I shall report this to the royal family and the ministry of the army so that those who participate in the meeting will be investigated."

"Are you sure you want to listen in?" Miselk said with a sudden smirk, "The preparation of the new war theatre is top secret. Anyone who participates will have to stay to fight the next war against Shiks. If you want to listen in, all you have to do is to sign a letter of oath. That way, you'll get to join and also have to stay for the incoming war. You won't be able to return to the mainland with Ranger."

"Ugh..." Fansnik hesitated for a moment, but he snapped out of it soon. "Apologies, Lord Militant, I just remembered there are many things I have to deal with in the logistics department. I won't take up any more of your time."

Seeing Fansnik leave haggardly, the officers present chuckled softly. Miselk nodded to his aide, Niwis, and he also left the room and shut the double door.

The middle-aged man in formal wear and the colonel of a local keeper force got to their seats. Only Miselk remained at the podium of the room. He cleared his throat and began, "The irrelevant and useless general is now gone, so let's start. As of today, the new war theatre is formed. I'm sure you all here know that Claude is going to take over my position as field marshal. Colonel Claude, please come to me."

Claude stood up and walked to the podium before saluting the others in the room.

"First, the war theatre's command post shall be established to manage all happenings within it. Colonel Skri shall be appointed chief logistics supervisor of the war theatre and be in charge of supply and shipments," Miselk said before he got Skri to stand up.

Skri saluted the rest just like Claude. Fortunately, he didn't have to go to the podium.

"The war theatre's civil affairs shall be managed by Sir Bernard." Miselk pointed to the middle-aged man. Claude had a feeling that guy was the only council member of the House of Dignitarians in Anfiston.

Bernard stood up and bowed to the rest in the room.

"Colonel Saljorak, please stand up." Miselk pointed to the colonel dressed in local keeper attire. Colonel Saljorak will be in charge of local defence, security and espionage."

Saljorak saluted the rest of them.

"Additionally, five new enhanced folks will be formed in the war theatre. Thundercrash will have Claude as folksman. 1st Monolith's folksman is Colonel Bolonik. 2nd Monolith's folksman is Colonel Sevict. Colonel Eiblont will be the folksman of 3rd Monolith. As for 4th Monolith, the folksman shall be Colonel Birkin.

"The heads of command in the war theatre shall be an eight-person council made up of Colonels Claude, Bolonik, Sevict, Birkin, Skri, Eiblont, Saljorak and finally, Sir Bernard. Claude shall be appointed as field marshal and his orders are of the highest priority in matters of war. As for other crucial matters, decisions should be made after joint council if Claude's opinions are not unanimously supported."

Miselk clearly stated each of their roles. In a sense, Claude didn't have too much power like Miselk did. But he could understand why that ought to be the case. He was still young and relatively inexperienced and Miselk worried that he wouldn't be up to the task.

Not to mention, Miselk himself was someone from a purely military background. During his term as field marshal, he had left civil affairs entirely to local officials and had never thought of having a full grasp of the local authorities. As a result, he distributed the roles according to his personal principles. Perhaps he believed that this would help Claude focus more on military matters alone and excel on that front.

"That will be the end of the delegations," Miselk continued, "From now on, this war theatre's formation is no longer a secret. We will iron out the details of the five folks after the men from Ranger are transferred. We'll leave the number of men transferring from Ranger to another time. Let's just assume 20 thousand of them will be transferring for now. Each folk will have up to four thousand former rangers. If there's extra, feel free to assign them in any folk deemed suitable.

"1st Monolith shall be stationed in Robisto's Brikaman and take care of the Dorinibla River Defence Line. 2nd Monolith shall be stationed in the mining town of Rosas and take care of Claude Defence Line in Mosraka Mountains. 3rd Monolith shall be stationed in Port Patres to defend us from enemies coming from the sea. 4th Monolith shall be stationed in Grinosburg in charge of the coastal area east of Mosraka Mountains.

"As for Thundercrash, where do you think it should be stationed, Claude?" Miselk asked out of the blue. He had settled on where to station the other folks and left Thundercrash to Claude.

"I'll station them in Lanu. I intend to move the command post of the war theatre there as well since it's easy to reach and we'll be able to attack quicker," Claude said without holding back.

Miselk nodded. "You're free to decide how to go with this. However, what I'm going to tell you all right now is a little urgent. The kingdom has sent the first batch of settlers here and they'll arrive in another half a month in Tyrrsim. I hope the five folks can have a basic framework within a month. Take the discharged veterans to fill your ranks immediately after their arrival instead of letting them loiter pointlessly in camp."

Chapter 367 - Sudden Incident

Claude found himself to be quite busy. Even though Miselk had mostly settled the staffing choices for the new theatre, Claude had decided to move the command post to Lanu, which was a rather troublesome affair.

But Miselk didn't object to his decision as he felt that Grinosburg was a little too far to the borders of Anfiston. Lanu was right at the centre of the colony and transport there was convenient. However, Grinosburg was still the most developed mining city where two of the mines were situated. Given that Anfiston had developed based on its mining industry, there was good reason to make that the centre of command to safeguard the mines.

During wartime, however, making that the command centre would delay too much time. It took the good part of a day to travel from Grinosburg to Lanu and any emergencies would only be reported soonest a day later. That would greatly hamper their ability to respond. Yet, moving the command centre to Lanu wasn't that simple a matter either.

Other things aside, transferring Ranger's supply to Lanu alone proved to be challenging, not to mention the fact that Miselk had ordered for all carriages of Ranger to be taken for the transportation of the newly arrived settlers.

Like Miselk mentioned, they were short on time. Storm had set out with the other transport ships and they would arrive in Tyrrsim in another half a month. It would take around 20 days to travel from Tyrrsim to Anfiston by carriage transportation.

In other words, the command post had to be moved within the span of 40 days at most. Lanu would also be the main area where they allowed the settlers to rest at the moment while their jobs were being arranged. Food and other necessities like medicine for the settlers also had to be provided in the meantime.

It was so busy that Claude couldn't even catch half a breath, let alone return to his house in Lanu for a good night's rest. Fortunately, with Myjack, Berklin, Dyavid and his other loyal aides' help, more than 4000 of the 5000 members of Line 131 were willing to transfer to Thundercrash. Claude had established the folk's basic hierarchy without expending too much effort.

Miselk's estimations were correct. Most of the troops in Ranger were willing to transfer to an irregular corps for a one-rank promotion. Rather than benefits and salary raises, they'd much rather forge a career on the battlefield. As long as they continued to win battles, their salaries would always continue to rise far above others'. They were confident that Claude would lead them to even more glory and prosperity if they served under him.

Of the 30 plus thousand of the original Ranger folk, more than 25600 people were willing to join the five enhanced folks. Of the 30 thousand new recruits, more than 2000 were willing to follow the veterans into the new folks. Miselk settled on giving each folk five thousand rangers and left the other three thousand remaining ones to Claude's Thundercrash.

As for the 30 thousand-odd soldiers Miselk was going to bring back to Freia, he used them as labourers before their return to build the camps near Lanu for the settlers and expand the roads and towns, much to their peril. Miselk didn't care about their complaints, however, and said that since they weren't brave enough to go on the battlefield, they might as well make it up for it through work.

Weyblon's son also joined Thundercrash as a formerly discharged veteran and was once more made a first lieutenant. Currently, he was still learning and adapting to his new unit under probation. Claude picked a time to have a short meeting with President Henderman to discuss how the settlers should be distributed.

To his surprise, the mining and trade association didn't need the settlers to go toil away in the mines; that job could be done by the nikancha youth. What he needed was talented folk. Usually, each household had an average of six people while larger ones can go up to ten. Apart from the couple, there were still the parents and siblings. The association wanted to source their talent from that pool of people.

High-skilled people were rare in the colonies in comparison to the kingdom. Given how immense the area the association conducted business over was, they were really short on manpower on the managerial level. Having no choice, they let the nikancha fill those positions, but their bad performance greatly affected their profits. But now that more than a hundred thousand households would be immigrating to Nubissia, the association finally had more people to pick from.

As Henderman had said, it was fine if they weren't literate. They could still perform the task of supervising the ǹikancha. There wasn't a need to encourage or help them either. All they needed to do was to hold a gun in one hand and a whip in the other and the nikancha would comply. What the association lacked the most were these folk. If there were settlers who could read and do arithmetic, that would be even better. The association had no lack of such posts.

Claude also had Henderman promise him a few things. In principle, he wasn't against the association recruiting workers from the settlers, so long as they weren't coerced into working. The recruitment also had to wait until the households were settled into their camp first. There was to be no trickery or coercion. The association could only help settle down the immigrants who were willing to go with them in their mining towns and cities.

Thirty days soon passed in a flash. The first batch of settlers had arrived and Claude received a report from the command centre that something went down in the logistics department.

General Fansnik was up to again. He didn't know that Miselk had attributed all remaining supplies to the new theatre under Colonel Skri's authority. Instead, he referred to the old corps' accounts and believed that they had too much Shiksan gear and supplies, so he was prepared to auction them off to merchants.

Perhaps the day of returning to the kingdom was coming close, Fansnik, who had nothing much to show so far, was probably trying to sell off whatever he thought wasn't necessary. In his mind, supplies left here were wasted supplies anyway, so he decided on his own that selling them off would be a good idea.

After much trouble of finally locating an interested merchant, Fansnik rushed excitedly to the warehouses to check the stock, only to be shocked after he opened the door. Quite a number of the stores were emptied out and the rest were covered with sealing tape, marked for use by the theatre exclusively.

He panicked then. Even though it was Ranger's supplies, why did it suddenly belong to logistics of the new theatre? He rushed to find Colonel Skri and demanded the supplies be returned, but Skri merely said that Miselk had ordered all supplies and gear of Ranger to be handed over to theatre command. It wasn't like they could ship it back to the kingdom anyway.

Angered beyond reason, he said that Miselk had no right to order that, especially when Fansnik, the chief logistics officer, wasn't informed about it. So, the supplies couldn't be transferred to anyone else without his permission. He ordered Colonel Skri to hand everything back.

Skri refused to comply immediately and demanded to see a hand-written order from Miselk himself if a return was to be conducted.

But how would Fansnik dare to see Miselk for one? He had planned to sell the supplies away and pocket part of the profits before putting the rest into the corps' account as his contribution. With his plans completely wasted, he reacted with anger and emphasised Miselk didn't have that authority and that the logistics department was in charge of all that.

So, he accused Skri of embezzling the supplies for himself and ordered the enforcers from the court martial to arrest Skri before hurriedly packing up the goods to sell to the big-time merchant.

Skri was in charge of the new theatre, so his arrest caused a lot of chaos. Without anyone making the calls, problems began to pile up. Fortunately, some level-headed logistics officers used carrier eagles to inform Claude about this immediately as well as Colonel Birkin who was busy forming 4th Monolith folk in Grinosburg.

While the command post had been moved to Lanu, Skri's logistics department was still in Grinosburg dealing with the transfer of supplies from Ranger to the theatre. Little did they know that something like this would happen during Miselk's excursion to Brikaman in Robisto to supervise the formation of 1st Monolith and check on Dorinibla River Defence Line. Since Fansnik held the highest post in Ranger's headquarters, nobody could stop him.

Claude couldn't possibly ride to Grinosburg on such short notice, so he wrote Colonel Birkin a letter and requested him to close Grinosburg down and forbid the merchant who bought the supplies from leaving and arrest him first. Claude would then go to Ranger's headquarters to save Skri.

However, one hour plus later, Claude received a letter from Birkin that stated that Fansnik had used the logistics department's heavy support tribe to escort the merchant's convoy out of the city. Currently, he was in a standoff against them and Fansnik was going to accuse the colonel of mutiny.

Claude really felt like cursing out loud. While most of the units from Ranger were in Lanu working on the construction, there was still a keeper tribe and logistics tribe in headquarters. Claude couldn't afford to let Birkin's unit open fire against the support tribe lest the matter escalated beyond recovery.

The signallers from the theatre said that it would take at least three hours for a carrier eagle to fly to Brikaman. By the time Miselk received it, it would already be six in the evening. Miselk had left before noon yesterday and was probably still on the way there and would only arrive tomorrow afternoon. While Miselk also had his own carrier eagle, they had to wait for him to send it their way first before being able to send a message to him. The carrier eagles couldn't reach someone who was still travelling, after all.

Claude wracked his brain over what to do. This sudden development would cause a domino effect in the new theatre. Nobody could've expected that useless general to cause such waves. It wouldn't be that much of a problem if the sale itself went through, since those were Shiksan spoils. When Miselk returned, he'd naturally deal with it.

However, Claude didn't want to let Fansnik off this time. If he didn't teach him a good lesson, the man might continue to cause even more problems down the line. Not to mention, letting him get away with it would make a bad precedent for the new theatre. Even if the brass knew how troublesome it was for him and how difficult his position was, the soldiers wouldn't see it the same way. It would greatly diminish his reputation among the men.

"Write an eagle message and get Colonel Birkin to let them through. Also, have Thundercrash Folk Strike Tribe set out with me," Claude ordered.

Strike was the only fully manned tribe at the moment. It was an enhanced tribe similar in scale to Tribe 131 and Myjack was the tribesman. There were around 1600 men, all veterans, and they would be Thundercrash's sharpest knife.

After some two hours, Claude and Strike reached the entrance of the mountain pass. He gave the order to rest. Then, he sent scouts along the path to see whether Fansnik, the support tribe and the merchant convoy had arrived. Fortunately, there was only one pass to leave Grinosburg from.

After half an hour, Claude received reports that the convoy would be arriving soon.

The rest was a simple matter. Strike, laying in ambush, popped up all of a sudden and accused Fansnik of treason and ordered for his immediate arrest. They proclaimed that anyone who resisted would be shot without exception.

The heavy support tribe's men were completely captured off guard and soon subdued. Fansnik kept bellowing that he had royal blood and couldn't possibly commit treason. Some officers near him wanted to come over to ask about the situation only to be immediately subdued and tied up by the experienced veterans.

Claude came to Fansnik and took out an eagle message from his pocket. He addressed all the troops publicly. "This is the letter Lord Militant Miselk just sent us. General Fansnik has committed treason. He's leaked information on the theatre to Shiks. His arrest is to be immediately carried out."

Nobody actually saw what the letter contained, but Claude's authoritative tone made sure that nobody doubted him.

However, Fansnik was still stubbornly struggling. "Bullshit! I didn't betray the kingdom! You're accusing a member of the royal family! I won't forgive you for this!"

Claude gave him a firm punch to the chin and he collapsed on the ground immediately.

"Tie him up and throw him in the carriage. Make sure to stuff some old socks into his mouth too. The carriage is shaky and we wouldn't want him to bite on his own tongue." Claude wiped his fist with a white handkerchief.

"Sir, what about the merchant and the convoy?" Myjack asked.

"Take them all away. We'll have Colonel Saljorak question them. They're spies, after all... I want the merchant to admit he's an informant for Shiks."

Chapter 368 - Reuniting with an Old Friend

Fansnik was thrown in the detention room of Thundercrash. His cries were unheard and pleads were ignored. In the five-odd days before Miselk returned, he wouldn't be getting out. No matter how harshly he cursed in his detention cell and accused Claude of defying his superior and plotting a mutiny and insulting a kingdom's general, nobody gave him any heed. Claude merely gave a single order. Since Fansnik was so filled with energy, he was to be starved for a day and a night, nor was he to be given a single drop of water.

Saljorak came to the theatre headquarters and Claude didn't waste any words with him. He handed the merchant and the ones that accompanied him to the colonel and told him that he needed testimony from the merchant, admitting that he was an informant for Shiks. Only then could Claude avoid being charged with imprisoning a kingdom's general. While Claude believed Miselk would own up to the order Claude made up, it wouldn't hurt to have a stronger case for himself.

Saljorak, someone who managed to catch Miselk's attention, didn't say a word and merely heard Claude brief him on what happened and nodded. He took the merchant and his men away. Claude breathed a sigh of relief and wrote a carrier eagle to Ranger headquarters to have Skri released by his authority as field marshal. Otherwise, the officers would be charged for neglecting orders.

In Aueras, soldiers in the army and navy alike could have any kind of disciplinary infraction without it affecting their career prospects. However, neglecting orders was a whole different story. Being marked for such an infraction meant that one's future career was completely over. As expected, a little more than an hour since he sent the letter, he got Skri's letter by carrier eagle. He had been released and got back to conducting the logistics operations.

Claude then wrote a notice and ordered communications to send it to 1st Monolith's Colonel Bolonik in Brikaman for him to relay the things that happened to the Lord Militant. He included his arrest of General Fansnik. While Claude felt that he went about it really brashly, they were short on time and nobody could afford to be hampered by this matter. He believed Miselk would understand why he had to do it this way, especially since he made sure to clean up everything pristinely.

The next day, the first batch of settlers came to Lanu. There were around 10.7 thousand households in this batch and the total number of people was above 80 thousand. Accompanying the settlers were more than four thousand local keepers.

Claude spent the good part of the day in camp to receive the immigrants. All of them had been registered and shown to their respective tents. What came next was assigning them a livelihood. Those wanting to farm can receive up to 1.6 acres of land which they had to cultivate themselves. Naturally, if they were willing to move to the mining settlements to find a job there, the association would provide them with accommodation and a month's salary in advance.

By the time Claude returned to headquarters, it was already evening. Major Anders, an aide serving in theatre headquarters, reported that the new chief machinist, who happened to be a count, and her daughter, a baroness, as well as a young child, were here to see the field marshal. But since Claude wasn't present, they bid farewell and headed for Grinosburg.

Claude nodded and acknowledged it. He didn't mind not being able to meet the new chief machinist, since Skri would be the one dealing with him. Their meeting didn't really matter anyway and the count was probably paying him a visit out of courtesy.

"Sir, the four keeper tribes' tribesmen have been waiting the whole afternoon. Are you going to see them?" Anders asked.

That meeting he couldn't miss. The four tribes had been moved there to be disbanded and absorbed into the five folks. The tribesmen were here to talk about their future posts.

"Alright, have them come to my office one by one."

"Sir, the Jeroman City Keeper Tribe from Ambruiz is reporting in. I am the tribesman, Major Alika Rosder," said the tribesman in his thirties with a salute.

Claude stood up and returned the salute before getting the tribesman to sit back down. Ambruiz was right next to the three southwestern prefectures. While Claude knew that Jeroman wasn't the prefectural capital, he felt relieved to hear that it was close to Black Forest, which was near Whitestag.

They took only ten or so minutes. Claude wanted to know the kinds of battles and suppression of local revolts Alika had experienced. He also explained the five enhanced folks' makeup to the man and assured him that as long as he was capable, he would have many chances to put his abilities on display.

So, the three keepers were sent off cursorily just like that. When the fourth one came in, Claude was wondering how he could cut the process short to save some more time so he could go back to rest.

But the moment he saw that person, he jumped with shock. "How... How could it be you?"

He had never dreamed he'd be able to see his good friend during his teenage years, Borkal. The years had rounded Borkal's figure. The keeper uniform seemed like it was straddling his body, rather than covering it. Perhaps he was aware that he didn't look the part of a soldier at all and intentionally chose to be the last one to enter.

Borkal himself also seemed utterly shocked as he pointed at Claude without being able to say a word. Claude laughed out loud and went forward to hug his friend who had grown big and round.

What he didn't think would happen was Borkal grabbing his throat and cursing, "It's you... you screwed with me! Why, of all nine keeper tribes in the three southwestern prefectures, was mine picked and sent to this hellhole to join an irregular corps?!"

Claude easily pulled the hands away and pushed Borkal to the couch. "Fatty, what are you talking about? Who screwed you? I didn't even know you were going to show up. Tell me what this is about."

Looking at his own body, he was well aware he wasn't Claude's match. He could only give him a suspicious look. "So it really wasn't your fault? You didn't transfer us away from Banjilia to this war theatre, right?"

Claude noted that something was off. "Wait, what's going on? It should be a good thing that your tribe was transferred here. Being transferred from a local defence force to an irregular force is akin to a rank promotion. Otherwise, a major like you would be equal to our captain and you'd have to salute them first. Furthermore, I don't have the clout to get you transferred over here. The ministry of the army simply said they were going to send over 20 tribes with combat experience to bolster our might. We don't even know where they're going to be sourced from..."

Borkal grimaced. "Whatever. It's not your fault. They're coming back to get me and intentionally transferring me here so they can have an easier time going about things..."

Claude nudged him and asked, "Fatty, what are you talking about? Why don't I understand a single word of it? Did you piss someone off to the point they want to get you? Don't worry, this is my turf. Nobody will be able to do anything against you."

Borkal didn't seem the slightest bit happier. "F*ck... f*ck... I said it has nothing to do with you. You wouldn't know anyway. Being transferred here means my family business will crash once again..."

Some people didn't even bother to give any face, and Borkal was one such person. He had completely forgotten his station. Claude was now his superior and no longer his carefree playmate.

Claude smiled and went back to his desk. Pointing at the desk's surface, he said, "Colonel Borkal, stand straight and answer my question."

Borkal waved his hand nonchalantly. "Don't mess around, Claude. I'm busy thinking..."

Claude then pulled the bell-rope behind him. The office door was opened and First Lieutenant Gum came in with a fierce look with two other guards.

He pointed at Borkal sitting on the sofa and said, "Have you seen such a fat soldier? He's an embarrassment to our army! Go and weigh him and tell me how heavy he is before tossing him in Thundercrash's new recruit department. Tell Lieutenant-Colonel Moriad to make him lose 100 catties before bringing him back to see me."

"Yes, Sir." Gum motioned his head and the two guards came for Borkal domineeringly.

It was only now that he truly understood the predicament he was in. Surprisingly, he managed to agilely jump from the couch towards Claude. Claude had wanted to kick him away, but he didn't think Borkal would hug his leg tight.

"No, Chief... Spare me! It's my fault... I shouldn't have ignored you... I'll tell you anything you want, promise..." His embarrassing cries reverberated throughout the office.

Claude struggled and couldn't draw his leg back. Borkal was simply hugging it too tightly. He waved for Gum to stand outside with the other guards.

"Now tell me what's going on. Who did you anger? Why did you think you were intentionally sent here?" Claude reached out and tried to get him to stand up.

But Borkal kept his arms tight around Claude's lower leg as he continued to melt into a sobbing mess. Claude didn't even know whether he should feel angry for the poor sod. "Get up, do you hear me? How can someone like you be a tribesman and make it to major?

"Let's see... A few years back when I went home for a family visit, your father told me about your promotion to first lieutenant proudly. I thought you would soon be discharged to take over the family business. I didn't think you'd still be in the keeper tribe and even became tribesman. Your promotion was rather fast."

Borkal finally let go of his leg and climbed upright. "I knew I shouldn't have gotten those merits... I didn't think the achievement I got so far back would actually get me sent here to this war theatre. As for my promotion, it's quite simple in the local forces. When your superior is about to retire from old age, just make sure money goes to the right person and the position will be yours."

So it seemed Borkal had bought his position with money. The same probably applied to his rank as major too. But now, Claude's curiosity was piqued. "Boa, what made you decide to stay in the keepers? Shouldn't you be home running the family business already?"

Borkal rolled his eyes. "My father's still strong and healthy. There's no business for me to take over just yet. And ever since I've taken control over the Banjilia keeper tribe, our family's gained a monopoly over the prefecture of Simlock. Even Whitestag's Fenix company won't be able to build a market there and would often be troubled by my tribe. I only let them start up a business in the prefectural capital after they returned the 30 percent share they forcefully bought from us..."

It was now clear who the one behind Borkal's transfer was. It was too bad Borkal wasn't aware that Fenix was a company formed by the new nobility. He was but a worm trying to crush a dragon, only to end up exiled to another continent altogether.

It looked like Borkal hadn't changed at all. He was smart and had good business acumen, but failed to grasp the bigger picture. Perhaps he didn't know about how amazing Fenix was and that they weren't to be trifled with lightly. Claude did, however, hear that Borkal's family held quite some sway in Banjilia and wield lots of authority. Otherwise, Borkal wouldn't be promoted to major that quickly.

He only began his vendetta against Fenix in the first place because they coerced his family to sell thirty percent of their shares away. But since he was operating in home turf, Borkal had the advantage. Eventually, Fenix gave up and returned the shares. Just as it was looking like Borkal won, his whole tribe was uprooted and sent to Nubissia's new war theatre and tossed into the colonial war with Shiks.

Borkal most probably didn't even know what caused his loss. However, he wouldn't be getting back anytime soon. Fortunately, he ran into Claude, his old friend, so at least he won't have it bad there. But Claude really couldn't get used to Borkal looking that chubby and recommended that he lose weight.

"Claude, you promised! Let me go, please? On account of my father?" Borkal's cries echoed as he was dragged out by the guards.

"Tell Moriad to train him harshly and beat him if he refuses to comply until he does. But don't cripple or kill him, got it?" Claude asked.

"Yes, Sir. I will relay that to Lieutenant-Colonel Moriad," Gum said.

Chapter 369 - Matters Settled

"This is the opposite bank of Lake Lanu. It's where Torma River flows into the lake's triangular area and the land here is really rich and fit for farming. Back then, manpower was really lacking. But now that we have these settlers, we only need two years for Anfiston to be self-sustainable with food. Naturally, it wouldn't be enough to sustain the demand of the war theatre, but it's more than enough for the four mining settlements.

"We're going to set up a town here and call it Torma. In fact, we'll be building up to seven towns along the river. This triangular area should be able to settle down around 70 thousand farmer households so that the plains of Anfiston on the other side can be developed as well.

"However, we doubt there'd be that many people willing to work the fields among the 100 thousand households. For instance, of the 17 thousand plus settlers from this batch, apart from one thousand households recruited by the mining association, some two thousand other households have mastered a skill or trade and are willing to borrow a loan from us to start up their little workshop or storefront. These settlers will be settling down in Lanu and the four mining settlements."

Claude was currently riding on the opposite bank of Lake Lanu away from town and listening to Sir Bernard, the one in charge of civil affairs, explain how the settlers will be dealt with. Claude was glad that Bernard wasn't merely a person who only talked and put up a show of competence, but rather an actual competent bureaucrat rich with experience. The settlers were adapting just fine with him guiding them. That saved Claude quite a lot of trouble.

"Sir Bernard, has there been any difficulties on your end?" Claude asked.

"Yes. The biggest one right now is our lack of manpower," Bernard said with a nod, "We have to assign these folk uncultivated land for them to start and they can build their own houses. However, we still have to plan the town layout and how sewage is going to run through it. The main roads of the town also have to be designed by us.

"However, we lack the labour for all these projects and can't afford to hire any. While Lord Militant Miselk had ordered the 30 thousand men remaining in Ranger to work on that, they are only in charge of the work in Lanu. The most time they can give us to work on the sewage construction is a month before they will be sent back to the mainland. Without the 30 thousand soldiers, the construction of the following six to seven towns won't be able to finish."

It was a rather troublesome matter. Dealing with the settlers wasn't a simple matter as giving them a piece of land and leaving them alone. Towns, roads and other infrastructure had to be constructed. Their daily necessity needs also had to be met. But so far, all the war theatre could afford to do was to keep the settlers supplied, but they lacked any funds to hire labourers.

"Do you have any proposals to solve this, Sir Bernard?"

"I do, but I need your help with it."

"Tell me then. What do you propose?"

"Isn't every single household of the settlers going to have a member who's going to rejoin the force? Just have those people help us with the construction like what Ranger is doing now. That way, we can finish all the work in half a year and settling down all 100 thousand households would no longer be a problem."

Sir Bernard had turned his sights on the discharged men. That was a free labourer force of 100 thousand. However, Claude refused the suggestion after some consideration.

"This won't do, Sir Bernard. The soldiers will have to be retrained and get used to life in the military once again. You should know that they've only joined during the five-year war with minimal training before being discharged again and left inactive for five to six years.

"Even someone who has received military training before would need some time to get used to army life again. Since these soldiers don't have much experience in the first place, they would need even more time to be trained into proper soldiers. This is one of the reasons the kingdom agreed to send them to us -- they're a little too unstable and unpredictable.

"What's most important in the war theatre right now is the formation of the five enhanced folks and resisting the assaults of Shiks. But now, the 20 thousand veterans from Ranger and those from the two colonial corps only make up less than a third of what we need. The five enhanced folks need a total of 160 thousand soldiers but we only have less than 100 thousand qualified soldiers.

"The Lord Militant kept rushing us to complete the folks as soon as possible, but there's nothing much when the pool of men we can recruit from isn't ideal. Right now, all hope is placed on those 100 thousand retired soldiers that they get back into shape as fast as they can. That's why I can't approve of your proposal. These 100 thousand troops must not be delayed from joining our forces and training."

While he was refused by Claude, it was hardly a surprising outcome. He knew that Claude was merely stating the truth. What the war theatre needed most now wasn't settlers, but rather, the formation of the five enhanced folks to ensure that they would be able to keep at least Anfiston in the upcoming war with Shiks.

He furrowed his brow in thought and said, "Marshal, since we won't get them to work as labourers, can you have logistics send more food and necessities? That way, we can pay the nikancha youth to build the infrastructure. However, we'd have to hire even more supervisors that way."

This was the far less ideal option. They didn't have enough money, after all, no budget to fund their project. As Sir Bernard had mentioned, using the food they pilfered from Shiks to hire nikancha labourers was indeed a good idea, but they were usually hit or miss. The working efficiency alone could make someone despair. Without large numbers of supervisors watching them tightly, they might take three to four years to fix a road a hundred metres in length.

"Alright. Food will be provided by the three colonies in the rear. We can simply report some of them as spoiled. Initially, the food was supposed to be sold to the settlers anyway, so it wouldn't be a bad idea to hire the nikancha people with it. But I have another idea for you. Why don't you use this food to hire the settlers to supervise the nikancha? It's an easy job that won't involve direct labour on their parts."

Bernard gave it some thought and agreed. "It's a great idea. I think the family members of the settlers will be more than willing to help. They've just moved here and lack these crucial necessities, after all. Paying them with food will save us quite a lot of money. We might be able to pay them with jerky, furs and food. Since winter is coming, I'm sure they'll need a good amount of those."

Having settled the issue, Claude immediately returned to Lanue. The moment he entered headquarters, he saw Colonel Saljorak waiting for his return. Claude apologised for making him wait that long. Saljorak respectfully greeted Claude as a subordinate and told him that he got results for what he was asked to do.

After entering Claude's office, Saljorak took three documents out from his leather bag. The first was the testimony which Claude wanted. In it, the merchant stated that he was a Shiksan spy who had been sent to the frontlines to gather intelligence. He admitted to using money and women to buy General Fansnik to his side and got to know many military secrets from him. That way, Shiks could plan better for the next war and save on logistics cost and supplies.

Claude was rather satisfied with it. With the testimony, General Fansnik's crime was practically set in stone. Claude himself wouldn't have to be charged for disobeying a superior officer.

The most surprising part was how the testimony didn't appear forged. The witnesses and proof were all that they needed. Even the merchant's three maidservants chipped in and said that they had heard that Fansnik would sell weapons to just everyone no matter the price.

The second document was the real testimony. Unlike the first one, the second sounded even faker. In fact, the merchant was indeed a Shiksan. However, he was actually a smuggler. He had come to this colony because he hoped he would be able to buy some food and resell them at Port Vebastor. As Shiks mainly prioritised mining, they didn't pay much attention to agriculture. As a result, they had to import lots of food from other factions.

Ever since war broke out in the colonies, food trade between the Shiksan colonies and the Aueran colonies had stopped. The price of food in Shiksan colonies shot up rapidly. While agricultural efforts had been undertaken, it was far from being able to fill the gap. It came to a point where merchants often smuggled food from other colonies to Vebator. It had become a rather profitable trade route.

This Shiksan smuggler used two maritime routes across shallow waters. He sailed along the coast really slowly due to the weight and eventually docked at the town of Fishport and went to Grinosburg with his subordinates when he heard there was a lot of food for sale there. He eventually came to know General Fansnik, who was trying to sell their gear away.

The smuggling merchant was overjoyed. Compared to food, military gear and supplies turned a much larger profit. If he could sell them off, he would be able to form a relationship with the Shiksan troops at Port Vebator, which would make his travels much more convenient. So, he decided to make Fansnik a huge offer to purchase all of the supplies in the stores.

The third document was a list of items sold. Claude gave it a look and was shocked at the page filled to the brim with red words. Those red words denoted not the Shiksan gear, but rather Aueran gear. There were some four hundred Aubass Mark 3s, more than three thousand Aubass Mark 2s, standard-issue rounds and even four light-infantry cannons as well as accompanying round and scattershot.

"What... What the hell is going on with this?" Claude asked with a pale look.

Saljorak replied without being fazed in the slightest. "We found these in the convoy. After questioning the soldiers from the logistics tribe about it, they said General Fansnik sold them off. The general said since we aren't able to bring these back to the mainland, we might as well sell them and take the money back. The general even marked all this gear as defective in the inventory."

"He's raving mad! Ridiculous! How could he sell our kingdom's specialised arms to an unknown buyer? Does he think he can do as he like just because he's related to the royals?!" Claude cried.

Three days later, Miselk came back from his Robisto survey to Lanu. Almost immediately, Claude and Saljorak submitted the sale list to him. Miselk read it, tore the testimony they got from the merchant apart and had the guards bring Fansnik, who had been imprisoned for a week, to him.

Fansnik looked completely haggard. The moment he saw Miselk, he angrily proclaimed that Claude and the rest had gone against a superior officer and illegally arrested him. He demanded Claude and the other colonels be punished at the royal court...

Miselk then asked him whether he sold the military supplies.

Fansnik easily admitted to it and said that it was within his authority to do so as chief logistician. According to him, it was a legal sale and the funds would be deposited into Ranger's accounts without him taking any of it.

Miselk had his aide, Niwis, read the first testimony out loud and Fansnik collapsed immediately. He knew how damaging that testimony was and immediately called foul. He asserted that he wasn't a spy and the testimony was forged.

However, Miselk considered it true even if it was forged. He had a few guards come over and immediately pulled off the gold-sun shoulder mark on Fansnik uniform, properly relieving him of his duties as general. Then, he got the guards to escort Fansnik back to his cell. Miselk said he had no way to punish Fansnik then and there and could only relieve him of his post for now. He could only be dealt with back in the mainland by Prince Hansbach.

The reason Miselk rushed back from Robisto was the impending arrival of the kingdom's ambassador. Unlike the other settlers, the ambassador was there to inspect the three colonies in the rear. His trip was a little slower than the settlers as he had to meet with the high-commissioners and viceroys first.

Two days later, the ambassador finally reached Lanu. He brought over a formal notice that announced Ranger's return to the kingdom on the 11th month after their reorganisation. He also brought a formal letter of appointment to make Claude the folksman of Thundercrash and field marshal of the theatre. He was also promoted to major-general.

Chapter 370 - Work Horses, Donkeys, Mine, and Factory

Time flowed rather quickly. In a flash, half a year had passed since Miselk's return to the mainland. It was currently the 5th month of Year 589, fifteen years since Claude's transmigration. He was now 31 and the youngest peasant officer ever to be made major-general in the history of the kingdom. He was also the field marshal of the Nubissian War Theatre and folksman of Thundercrash.

Claude was really thankful for Miselk for giving him a chance to climb to this level. Miselk had also set up the command structure of the war theatre and picked cooperative subordinates for him, allowing Claude to smoothly take over operations of the war theatre and continue operations without delays.

Currently, nearly 80 thousand settler households had arrived. There was only one batch left. The first and second batches that arrived had already scattered the seeds over their fields and were awaiting harvest in the 9th month. Similarly, nobody expected that settling them down would cause so many problems to pop up. While Sir Bernard and the rest of the civil administration solved most of the problems, many others popped out and sapped most of Claude's attention.

Thundercrash was the first among the five folks to be fully staffed, followed by 1st Monolith, 2nd and 3rd. Only the last, 4th Monolith, wasn't fully staffed. It had to wait until the last batch of settlers arrived.

Claude had asked Major-Generals Eiblont and Birkin why their units, 1st Reserves 2nd Reserves, had been renamed to 3rd and 4th Monoliths. His seniors replied that they think Reserves was a bad name that made one sound inferior to the rest, so they brought their objections to Miselk and pestered him for a good part of the day to get it changed.

Thankfully, Claude's minions worked really hard and dealt with most other matters that didn't require his personal attention. They managed to complete their training in the half-year deadline. Currently, Moriad and Berklin led most of the men in Thundercrash on an excursion in Balingana and Cromwell to familiarise themselves with the terrain. Only Myjack's fully veteran Strike Tribe remained in Lanu.

"General, what worries me most now is the workhorses and racehorses. Most of the settlers want to buy workhorses for carts or farm work and need racehorses as mounts. But there's no way the three rear colonies can provide them. The price of work and racehorses has risen nearly three times in the past three months. They now cost almost as much as war horses..." Sir Bernard was so plagued with worries that his hair had whitened considerably.

But this wasn't a problem Claude could solve. The five enhanced folks themselves didn't have enough horses at their disposal. They only had around 30 thousand war horses and some ten thousand work and racehorses, yet Thundercrash alone was assigned all the war horses and a few thousand war and racehorses. They were a mobile assault force, after all, that tried to mimic the Ranger folk. They had to have at least that many horses to ensure their efficacy.

The other horses were split among the other four corps. Logistics had also been making a huge fuss about not having enough horses to make their shipments and demand for more to be bought, but the problem now was there was nobody to buy it from! Transporting horses from Freia would easily triple the price, and that wasn't taking into account the possible problems that could kill off the horses mid shipment. Transporting horses was a risky business indeed.

When the lack of horses first surfaced in Sir Bernard's first few settler towns, Claude had taken out a few thousand horses from the five folks and assigned them to the civil administration to distribute to the rest of the populace to use. Fortunately, Claude instructed for those horses not to be sold, but only rented as he thought the settlers wouldn't be able to afford them anyway.

Time came to prove that Claude had thought too much. After the horses were distributed, they realised that the demand for them had far overshot the supply. People of this world used horses instead of bulls to farm, after all, and most of the settlers wouldn't use cows for farming or pulling their carts either.

Anfiston was a rather large colony with a sparse population, so it didn't have complete traffic facilities. What the new settlers needed most at the moment were racehorses to mount and workhorses to pull their carts and help with farming. As most of them had received a sum of money from the new nobility when they chose to emigrate, buying a workhorse or two wasn't that big a deal. But the problem now was the supply of horses in the war theatre simply wasn't enough. All the colonies in Nubissia weren't able to do even that.

"Perhaps we can purchase some donkeys from the nikancha to replace workhorses for pulling carts," Skri suggested.

The people of Nubissia preferred to breed donkeys as mounts and beasts of burden. Most nikancha also had a few donkeys in their households. Perhaps buying them would indeed be a good idea, but Claude worried the settlers would simply slaughter them for meat to eat. Donkey meat was considered to be a delicacy in Aueras, after all.

"I heard some breeders in the three rear colonies have started a large horse-breeding initiative. Looks like the demand for horses made them aspire for wealth," Major-General Bolonik said, "I know a few friends who have requested to be granted seed war horses to breed with the workhorses and improve their stock."

This was a fine solution in itself, save for the time required for it to work. It would take at least two to three years for any adult horses to enter the market. However, the war theatre was in urgent need of more horses overall. Even if only a third of those 100 thousand households bought only one workhorse each, they still needed some 30 thousand of them. It wasn't a small number that could easily be met.

When Claude returned home, he noticed Weyblon had come to visit with his wife again. The two cited Claude's new child as the reason for their visit and brought with them lots of baby products. Around a month ago, Kefnie delivered Claude a new child which they named Beuergarcy, which means 'blue lake' in Ancient Hez after the beautiful Lake Lanu. Claude was now the father of two sons.

After breakfast, Claude took Weyblon to his study. Weyblon took a few documents out of his bag and handed it to Claude. "General, the association has agreed to let you have possession of the iron vein in Mosraka Mountains. You may construct your refinery there. We will also take you in as a member of the association and this comes with assorted benefits. This is your permit for owning a mine and the deed for the land nearby."

Claude was elated. "Thank you, my friend, you really did me a huge favour."

However, Weyblon still seemed a little perplexed. "General, can I be direct and ask what this is for? Iron mining is an investment that doesn't pay off. The kingdom produces iron the most and the resource least tapped into in the colonies is iron. Our association only has one iron mine, but we only produce enough to fulfil the needs of the colony. It's the lowest-yielding part of the industry.

"Just last year when the first and second batches of settlers arrived, the demand for iron rose slightly to make the tools they needed. But now that most of the settlers had submitted their orders for our ore to our association, how are you going to turn a profit with your own mine and forge? The settlers can't possibly need that many tools, after all."

Claude laughed heartily. "Don't worry, my friend. Tell your association's other mine owners that I'm not trying to compete with them with my mine. I'm going to produce military equipment, not daily necessities or farming tools. In fact, it's going to be a weapon. That's why I refused your offer to provide me with supplies for free. The reason I want to own my own mine is to maintain a level of secrecy over our project."

Weyblon breathed a sigh of relief, but his curiosity was renewed. "General, as far as I know, the kingdom has had a tight restriction on the production of military gear, right? Equipment used here on Nubissia have to all be shipped here from the mainland. Why would they let you form your own forge in the war theatre to produce weapons?"

Claude shook his head. "They didn't allow us to start our own forge. All the gun workshops and gunpowder labs here are built with the kingdom's approval and are strictly regulated. However, I don't need the kingdom's permission as I'm going to invent my own weapons. I'm not going to produce the kingdom's weapons. That's why I need an iron mine and my own forge. I'll make some for my own men to test out. If they are effective, we'll mass produce them in the war theatre."

Weyblon's understanding finally snapped into place. He looked at Claude admirably. Claude had managed to forge a certain path to wealth for himself. Even if Claude's mine didn't reap much in raw profit, every enemy killed on the frontlines would justify the efforts. As the field marshal, Claude had no problems with ordering logistics to produce anything he wanted and making a huge profit using the battles as justification.

In truth, Claude wasn't nearly as sneaky as Weyblon imagined. He only wanted an unexcavated iron vein to get a secret place where he could test out his grenades and maybe mines in the future. This was the trump card he wanted to develop for the upcoming war.

However, the explosive experiments he had his sister carry out had mostly failed, well, not all of it did. Angelina was able to synthesise a safe explosive by using Nubissian red clay as a solvent to stabilise nitroglycerin.

The problem was there was no way to produce it on a large scale as the right temperature had to be achieved to produce nitroglycerin itself. Angelina could control the temperature easily with her array through the use of Freeze, but she had no idea how to scale up production, and neither did Claude.

The amount of nitroglycerin that could be produced in a single array was meagre, only enough for three grenades each time, but it took a really long time. The first production run alone took up to five hours. Claude couldn't have her working day in and out doing nothing but making gunpowder for him, could he?

Since that was the case, they had no choice but to make the grenades heavier to contain more gunpowder and change the way they had to be thrown. What mattered was their explosive range. This would definitely give the enemy a huge surprise. Claude decided that if he managed to invent mines, he would try to research canister shot next.

It wasn't too hard to change how he used grenades. Normal soldiers could only throw them as far as thirty metres away, so all Claude had to do was to design a mechanism to fire the payload further away. He used shock-absorbing spring carriages and an iron plate to make a simple firing mechanism. When in use, the iron plate would be flattened on the ground with the spring underneath it. The grenade would then be slotted into the delivery chamber and would be launched some 60 metres away when the spring was loosed.

After a few tests, Claude believed it fit for the battlefield. That was why he requested the mining association for the iron mine that had been abandoned for nearly half a century and decided he would start his own forge to produce his grenades, mines and other contraptions. Weyblon was the one who brought his request to the association and got the paperwork done.

"Friend, I still require your help. If possible, I hope you can be one of our shareholders and manage my weapons forge. I lack a reliable supervisor," he said honestly.

Weyblon thought that Claude was trying to give him that position as thanks for his help. After all, there was no need to strictly manage a simple iron refinery and forge. He humbly said that he was just helping a friend out and had no need for thanks, but under Claude's insistence, he ended up taking out two thousand crowns to buy a share of 20 percent and signed the shareholder's agreement and non-disclosure agreement.

Weyblon didn't think much of the 20 percent share. He thought that since Claude was willing to offer him an opportunity, he might as well be more generous with it. The way he saw it, two thousand crowns was more than enough to hire the workers required to develop the mine and build a refinery and forge. Claude didn't need to use much of his own money and could start making a profit by managing the logistics in the war theatre right.

Chapter 371 - Monster and Power

In the following month, apart from dealing with matters of the command post, most of Claude's time was spent on the mining in Mosraka Mountains. While Weyblon still wasn't too sure what part of the iron mines caused Claude to pay it so much attention, the fact that it did meant that his investment of two thousand crowns wouldn't go to waste. With Weyblon's help, Claude soon managed to hire the necessary supervisors and nikancha labourers. They started the mining operations within a month and a half.

What came later was the construction of the forge. Liquefying iron for casting wasn't that difficult a matter to accomplish. All they needed was a kiln and time to make the moulds, which Weyblon was already really familiar with. He managed those tasks without much effort. However, Claude also requested for carpentry, gunpowder and equipment workshops to be built. Weyblon began to worry about exactly what Claude was planning to do.

One thing to note was that Weyblon noticed that Angelina was also present during the visit he paid Claude. After greeting them, he asked the questions that had been clouding his mind with doubt. Claude smiled and said that since Weyblon had signed the non-disclosure agreement, he would let him see what kind of weapon he was developing.

Weyblon watched as the huge first lieutenant beside Claude lifted two large boxes, one with a cylindrical object roughly ten centimetres in diametre. The top part was made of metal while the handle seemed wooden. The first lieutenant then took out two metal plates from the other box. He placed the thicker plate on the ground as a base and the thinner one into a wedge in the thicker one to make an L-shaped contraption.

After that, the huge man applied force on the upright metal plate and it curved. It seemed rather elastic. Weyblon just realised that it was a spring plate normally used for shock absorption in carriages. However, he had no idea what Claude was trying to do with them.

The first lieutenant pushed the spring plate down and took one of the metallic cylindrical objects out of the other box and slot it down into the hole on the spring plate with the wooden handle facing downwards. Then, the man pulled away a small string on the wooden handle and let go of the spring plate.

A strong twang could be heard as the spring plate reassumed its former shape. The cylindrical object's wooden handle dislodged itself from the hole in the spring plate as it was launched far away in the sky.

Weyblon thought it was a rather decent idea. It was similar to catapults used in ancient times. Given how much research there seemed to be behind such a little prototype, Weyblon thought that the finished product could definitely sell for even more in the war theatre, which meant more profits and...

Before he could finish that thought, he heard a thunderous boom from afar. Snapping his head back, he realised that the cylindrical object exploded upon contact with the ground. There was a small crater where the object fell and smoke was still rising off it.

"This... this thing explodes?" Weyblon asked with shock.

"Of course. Did you think I started a forge just to make something to throw iron cans at our enemies?" Claude turned to his sister and said, "Sigh, this black powder still isn't powerful enough... The safe gunpowder we have is far better and will make an even larger sound that'll shock anyone dumb..."

Weyblon didn't know what black or safe powder was. The fact that the thing could explode was already beyond his expectations. Despite his lack of military or battle experience, he knew that the lobbing weapon Claude developed would definitely have extensive applications on the battlefield. One explosion alone might not do much, but when tens of them exploded at the same time... The defenders would be in for a hell of a beating.

The closest thing to a fight Weyblon had witnessed was the colony's garrison forces suppressing native revolts. They basically got into neat lines and fired and the fierce enemies just fell like that before the rest ran all over the place. If a couple explosions that propelled round bullets into a crowd could create such a result, Weyblon believed that with that new weapon, nikancha gatherings and revolts would no longer be nearly as frequent.

"Can I take a look at it?" Weyblon asked the huge first lieutenant, who nodded and stepped aside.

Weyblon picked up one of those cylinder-like objects and immediately knew why Claude developed the lobbing mechanism. The cylinder itself was too heavy. Even though the wooden handle was easy to grasp, Weyblon himself could only throw it no more than ten metres away.

"Can I open it up?" Weyblon asked.

Claude nodded. The huge first lieutenant went over and took the cylinder from Weyblon. With a counter-clockwise twist, he separated the metal part from the wooden part and poured out the gunpowder contained within.

The design of the hand grenade was rather simple. The gunpowder was stored in the metal shell. The real complexity lay in the wooden handle. Once the line embedded inside it was pulled, the friction caused by the line's removal would spark the flint inside and light up a powder trail, which led to the main powder stores in the metal component. As long as the powder trail was ignited, the flame would reach the main powder stores and cause an even larger explosion.

That was the most basic of hand grenade designs, only slightly more complicated than bombs which had their fuses out in the open. Yet, it was the most Claude could do at the moment. He was more of a software guy before his transmigration, after all, not a master artificer.

Yet, that was enough to greatly awe Weyblon. He praised, "General, you're a true genius! What is this mighty weapon you invented called?"

"A hand grenade," he said with a sigh, "It isn't that powerful and the range of the explosion is smaller than I expected. As you can see, if we add more gunpowder, it'll turn too heavy."

Weyblon had felt the weight before and agreed. "But still, General, you made this launching mechanism already so there's no need for the wooden handle, right? Since you're not going to use your hand to throw it, can't you just make the metal casing the whole thing and stuff it full of gunpowder? Wouldn't that make it even more powerful?"

Sometimes, even the simplest of laymen could instantly solve a problem that plagued experts for years with their outside perspective. Claude and Angelia's eyes brightened immediately. Since the soldiers couldn't throw the hand grenades far anyway, they might as well remove the wooden handle and make the whole thing with iron and stuff even more gunpowder into them. They only had to modify the lobbing mechanism to fit it. That way, the explosions would be far more effective!

"I'll go back immediately to test it out," Angelina said as she sped home. Claude made sure Myjack followed to ensure she was safe.

Three days later, Claude once more invited Weyblon over to observe the testing of the improved weapon.

Weyblon noticed that the hand grenade had completely changed in design. The metal part was lengthened and there was no longer a wooden component. It looked no different from an iron canister now. The simple lobbing tool was also changed into a more stable design with the spring plate thickened. Mere hands could no longer push it down. Instead, there was a lever that could be pulled down to different angles and distances of fire. First, the lever had to be pulled down to the desired setting before the hand grenade was set onto the spring plate.

The line-fuse mechanism didn't change. After pulling the line out, green smoke wafted out from the back of the hand grenade to signify that it had been activated. The lever was then released. The hand grenade was sent flying through the sky, eventually landing and exploding with a thunderous boom.

This explosion was far brighter than the one Weyblon had seenthe first time, which meant the power of the blast was considerably improved. Claude nodded, satisfied with the strength of the explosion. The only drawback with the new mechanism was that it took a little longer to load up, but it was an acceptable compromise for the increased accuracy the fixed angles offered.

"Now, this hand grenade can't be thrown by hand. You'll need to change the name, Claude," Angelina said.

Without the wooden handle, it truly was much harder to throw it by hand. Claude gave it some thought and thought of calling it a mortar.

However, Weyblon was holding the iron canister with a furrowed brow.

"What's wrong? Is there a problem?" Claude asked.

Weyblon looked at the creases along the iron cylinder and asked, "General, why do these marks have to be here?"

Claude laughed and said, "It's simple. With them, the iron canister will fragment into more than 30 pieces during the explosion. The fragmentation can cause great damage within a five-metre radius. Without these lines, the container will only fragment into three to four pieces, so the changes are far lower."

Weyblon grimaced. "General, I understand. So you mean we'll have to modify the manufacturing process for the outer shell to have these lines, right?"

Claude nodded. "That's correct. It should be a simple modification. Would that be possible?"

"There's no issue at all with making these iron canisters as they are. But to add the lines, we'll need cutting, engraving and smoothening machines. While these are easily obtainable, we don't have enough power..."

Power? Claude had once looked into it and found that basic manufacturing tools were already invented in this world. He recalled seeing designs for some of them in Landes' notebook and diaries. In the initial days when he designed the firearm, he created a few manufacturing machines to work with the forge for the creation of gun barrels. There were machines in Aueras' four great industrial complexes as well as the new military workshops in the three southern prefectures of their newly conquered territory.

So, what was with Weyblon's deal?

After hearing Weyblon's explanation, it occurred to Claude that he had thought of the world in far too simple terms. While this world had machines, they were in their most basic form and their largest problem was a source of power for usual operation. In this world, only three forms of power existed: hydropower, beasts of burden, and the mythical magic power.

Aueras had four main industrial complexes within the mountains and valleys. They weren't set up there because of secrecy, but rather the waterfalls there. They fell from a really tall location and had enough water to power the machines to create accurately fashioned metal and alloy parts through combinations of various processes like cutting, sanding, hammering, screwing and so on.

Beasts of burden were simple and direct. A contraption had to be attached to an animal so that the movement could be translated into another form to power machines and replace human work. However, this was more suitable for rougher kinds of work like woodworking. It would be hard to fashion materials that were too hard that way. More importantly, the animals were too unstable and the slightest mistake could cause the parts to be inaccurately made.

The last one was magic power, which hadn't been heard of beyond the rumours. Basically, magic resources and stones were used to power magical formations to facilitate the movement of large machines. It was said that only one place in the whole kingdom used this method of power: the cannon factories. Without magic-powered machines, accurate and identical cannon barrels couldn't be made.

There were also other forms of power like human and wind, but they weren't considered the main ones. Humans couldn't work for long and wind was too unreliable. The inconsistent strength and direction was hugely inconvenient.

Weyblon told Claude outright that they didn't have any waterfalls to use ner the iron mines, so it would be hard to make fine adjustments to the finished product. They could, however, try to find another location with one and have the materials shipped there for processing.

Claude asked, "Have you heard of steam power?"

Weyblon wracked his brains for a good moment and shook his head.

Angelina, on the other hand, had her interest stoked at the mention of magic power. But Weyblon said he had only heard about it from someone else. He wasn't a magus and thus couldn't explain how magic could be converted into kinetic energy. He did, however, know what magic stones were. They were rocky substances found in magic crystal mines during the ancient magic civilisation. As they likely formed in tandem with magic crystals, they also contained trace amounts of mana.

However, during the end days, magic crystals were growing ever scarcer and their prices were rising. So, when magi realised that magic stones also had some amount of magic power, they began to appreciate the material more. Aueras only had one magic stone mine in the mainland and all yield from it belonged to the royal family only.

Claude was feeling quite troubled. He didn't think making simple grenades entailed so many problems. Even though he asked Weyblon about steam power, it didn't mean he knew how to get it working either. Knowing the principles and putting them into practice were wholly different matters. Crestfallen and out of options, he asked Weyblon to look around to see what nearby place had waterfalls by which he could set up his water-powered processing plant.

Chapter 372 - Hot-air Engine

Claude returned to headquarters in Lanu in stellar mood. However, he felt that things just didn't seem to be going well for him. He didn't think he'd miss such an elementary thing when it came to designing the grenade. Even though it was solved in the end, the time constraints made it so that the cost of production rose. Claude felt an impending sense of danger.

The latest Shiksan update he got from the ministry of the army was Shiks just ferried their two fresh standing corps to Port Vebator. It was said that three more standing corps were being trained in the Shiksan mainland. Currently, there were four corps in their Nubissian colonies. Apart from the two new corps, there was also the corps formed from retired Nasrian soldiers and a light-cavalry corps of retired Canasian soldiers.

What unnerved Claude was how he suddenly lost contact with his informant in Port Vebator. He just went silent like that. Intelligence told him that the informant was either captured or suffered some kind of accident in such cases. They've sent a few more informants there but didn't hear anything back from them either.

It was worth noting that the informants they used in Port Vebator were nikancha, as they usually travelled all over the place and wouldn't stand out. Not to mention, they could communicate with the nikancha labourers at Port Vebator and gain lots of information from them.

While the nikancha were usually discriminated against for their shortcomings, they did have certain qualities that were hard to deny. They were united, for one, and felt really responsible for their families. The families of the nikancha sent to be informants lived in Aueran colonies and were given a fixed monthly stipend and also enjoyed many other benefits. There was no chance for the nikancha to switch sides in that case. They also hated Shiks with a passion.

After shooting down intelligence's request to send even more nikancha informants there, Claude decided to look through reports on Shiks over the past half a year in detail again. The reports had a delay of 20 days before they reached Claude. There was little they could do about it, given the distance.

The reports state that the Shiksan corps arrived in Port Vebator two months prior. Adding the delay it took for the report to be received, the Shiksan forces had arrived since three months ago. Claude wasn't too worried about the two additional corps the enemy got. What he was worried about was he couldn't grasp what the enemy was going with this.

It was only until he read the latest report that his eyes lit up. It stated that the Alliance's navy, now controlled by Shiks, had hurriedly set off for Nubissia during the past two months and were delivering large amounts of food. It caused the price of food in Shiks to rise by ten percent on average.

When he recalled the smuggler that came from Port Vebator to buy food only to be doomed by General Fansnik, Claude breathed a sigh of relief. He suspected that the food shortage in the Shiksan colonies still hadn't been solved. The arrival of the two standing corps only exacerbated the problem. Otherwise, there would be no need to use the navy to deliver the food. Usually, there would be a month's break for every voyage. They wouldn't start loading up immediately and setting sail right after completing one voyage.

Claude summoned Major Anders and asked about Thundercrash's status. The major reported that Thundercrash should return in two days according to the eagle message they sent.

During this excursion, Moriad, Berklin and the others didn't just storm the border between Cromwell and Port Vebator. They even exterminated the Canasian light-cavalry tents sent to scout Balingana, killing around thirty of them and capturing more than twenty captives. Thundercrash only suffered three heavy injuries and some ten light injuries. Not a single soldier died.

It was a great result. This could possibly be the best news Claude had heard in a while. While he had some time before their return, he decided to figure out how he could solve the problem of power.

Claude had thought about the necessity of modifying the iron canisters. He could just modify the moulds used to cast the canisters for the grenades instead of having to use so many machines to engrave the lines on the canisters. However, Weyblon said that he didn't have men skilled enough to make moulds that detailed. While making smooth moulds for the canisters was easy, making one with a lined outer shell wasn't something their mould makers could do at the moment.

Furthermore, even if said lined moulds were created, the machines had to be calibrated to ensure that the canisters produced would be standardised and uniform. Not to mention, screw threads had to be made for the production of the mortar rounds for the fuse mechanism on the bottom, which necessitated more machining.

Claude's only outlet for his frustrations was drawing a few more designs. He didn't draw up a steam-powered engine, as he hadn't personally seen one in action Instead, he drew a hot-air engine. He recalled that the other villagers in the countryside where he grew up calling them fire-head machines. That was the only engine he could recall from the top of his head.

Since it wasn't powered with steam, there wasn't a need for a boiler. Instead, it relied on the expansion of hot air to move the pistons and power something. He recalled some documentaries he had watched stating that the earliest car engines were powered by hot air. Those cars crawled on the roads as slowly as turtles. It was said that China had just opened itself up back then and couldn't purchase gas or petrol, so the cars they used were fitted to use hot-air engines that were complemented by the burning of coal, which took up half those cars' loads.

He knew hot-air engines so well because he had had one in his old home. His grandfather had treated it like his treasure. He once told Claude that back then when the village still didn't have electricity, he would always bring that machine to the spot where the rice harvest was dried and connect it to the threshing machine to remove the seeds from the stalks of the paddy instead of having to bring it to the ones in the city. That saved him quite a bit of trouble.

He had even played around with it a couple times with his grandfather. The hot-air engine was rather simple in construction and didn't fail easily. His grandfather said that it was made during the early years of the opening of the country. It was still in pristine condition after some three to four decades of use. However, Claude later on found that the hot-air engine had many quirks that made it rather troublesome to use. It was also quite inefficient and wasted quite a lot of fuel, not to mention the noise and pollution produced, which resulted in it being eventually phased out.

When his grandfather passed away, Claude's uncle sold the engine for the high price of five yuan to a scrap collector. Claude had never seen it since during his visits to his hometown.

He rubbed the tears on the corner of his eye and began sketching out the diagram of the machine he remembered so well. He started with the combustion chamber, the gas pipes and then moved on to the pistons and other contraptions.

The combustion chamber was where the fire burned and heated up the air which would propel the piston. As the air expands, it would create a pressure high enough to push through a valve and move the piston before the valve closed up again for pressure to build up once more. The movement of the piston would push open another valve to let the air escape so that it could fall back down. That was the standard cycle of a hot-air engine.

The design he drew up wasn't that much different from the engine he remembered. Claude wondered if that meant he had skipped over steam-power technology entirely, not that it mattered to him. All he needed was for it to work. As long as he could solve the problem of powering machines and create his mortars, he would have a trump card in hand and wouldn't have to fear the enemy no matter their numbers.

War is the main driving force behind human innovation. Had it not been for the impending war, Claude would never been able to remember the machinery he had seen so long ago during childhood in his previous life. He wouldn't even think about introducing it to this world.

With his designs in hand, he left headquarters and got on a carriage. He told the coachman, "I want to go to my sister's."

Two days later, Thundercrash returned to Lanu. Berklin, Moriad, Dyavid and the other high-ranking officers came to report themselves to Claude. They informed him about what happened during their survey as well as their attacks on the enemy scouting tents.

Claude wondered why the enemy would send scouting tents into Balingana. Logically speaking, they should be monitoring Cromwell instead since that colony was connected to Shiks'. Why would those Canasian scouts bother going to Balingana?

Moriad reported that the scouts weren't there to scout out their troops, but rather, to seek out a place to hunt wild bulls.

Claude put the puzzle pieces together immediately. Soon, the 7th month would be upon them. The summer wild-bull migration across Albator Plains was about to start. Near a million wild bulls would travel from the northern highlands to the southern plains. They would only return to the highlands during the 11th month. One trip of theirs took up to half a year.

Some researchers said that when the bull herds got too big, they would have to cull the weak and old for the sake of sustainability. During the migration, near ten thousand old and weak wild bulls would be hunted by the predators of the areas they travel through. With the people from the colonies joining the fray, the yearly death toll of bulls number up to 60 thousand.

The towns in Balingana mainly relied on the bull-hunting industry before the war started. Leather, bull-horn ornaments and even bull meat were the specialities of those towns. They were also incredibly popular among merchants from the kingdom.

After the war began, apart from a few brave hunters, no large-scale bull hunting could be organised, especially when most of the youth had been drafted into the colonial corps. Miselk's scorched-earth strategy had also put a halt to the hunting for years.

Everyone was too busy during last year as Ranger had to be reorganised before being sent back to the kingdom alongside the formation of the five enhanced folks. After the unfit recruits were thinned out from the colonial corps, some people tried to organise the bull hunts once more, only to be attacked by the Canasian light cavalrymen. Many of them were hurt or injured as they escaped in a panic.

Moriad reported that they discovered that the Canasian voluntary cavalry corps sent a folk of troops to Albator Plains for bull hunting last year according to a captive testimony. They managed to kill around 30 thousand bulls and earned a profit of around 80 thousand crowns. As such, they wanted to do the same this year too and sent scouts into Balingana to find a good spot to wait for the passing bulls.

"General, I think we can wipe them out directly," Berklin suggested, "Ever since they came to Vebator, they've been hiding behind their defence lines. Yet, they're willing to come out of their shell to hunt the bulls. We can't let this chance up."

Claude laughed. "Thundercrash has only just been formed. Training only began half a year ago. Are you confident you'll be able to swallow the Canasian light-cavalry corps whole?"

All the officers stood up in unison. "General, we are certain we can do it!"

Claude nodded. "Alright, I got it. Go back and wait for further instruction. Since you've just returned from this excursion, take a few days' rest. Let the soldiers recover their energy."

"Yes, Sir!" They saluted before they prepared to leave.

"Moriad, you stay back," Claude said.

"What's up, Chief?" Moriad defaulted to his usual form of address with the others gone.

Claude stroke his chin and asked, "My old classmate... The one you helped with the weight loss, how's he doing now?"

"Well..." Moriad hesitated for a moment. "Sorry, Chief. I didn't follow your instructions properly. He hasn't even lost a hundred catties..."

"Huh?" Half a year had passed, yet Borkal hadn't even lost a hundred catties of fat yet? How could it be? Claude knew well how the unit's training routine was. "What's going on?"

"Well, Chief, he's only lost 80 catties so far. It isn't that we aren't trying to get him to slim down. The problem is he's too big of an eater. While we can force a normal soldier to eat less, he's actually a major and enjoys the benefits of being one. We aren't able to make him stop. He can eat enough for three to four people alone! Sometimes, we force him to go through high-intensity training, but he would eat enough to cover up for the sweat he lost during the night."

Moriad seemed rather troubled. "Initially, I actually managed to make him lose 90 catties. I thought I would be able to complete your order to make him lose a hundred soon, yet he got acclimated with the corps far too soon and realised he has major privileges and began binging again. During our recent excursion, we thought the long marches would make him lose a bit more, yet he didn't slim down the slightest bit. Instead, the two war horses he rode on lost some 50 catties..."

Claude didn't know what to make of that. Borkal's transfer to Thundercrash seemed to have been quite pointless. He waved his hand helplessly and said, "Well, since he can't slim down any further, forget it. Send him over. I have something important I want him to do."

Moriad breathed a sigh of relief at no longer having to get the fatty to slim down, only to turn tense once more when he heard there was an important task for him. "Chief, that fatty only knows about eating. Can he really handle something that important? You better let me do it."

Claude shook his head. "You won't do. Instead, it'd be life threatening for you. Only someone with his bulk and appetite can possibly complete the task."

Chapter 373 - Borkal's Mission

"Looks like you've been having a rather good time. You seem far more toned, unlike the flab you were when I first saw you back then." Claude nudged Borkal's stomach with satisfaction. After losing 80 catties, Borkal looked markedly different. The uniform no longer made him look like an overstuffed meat bun. While he still looked a little fat, he didn't seem like he would start hyperventilating after the slightest bit of movement.

Borkal didn't bother with Claude's jokes. He locked his gaze on the ceiling as if there was something really interesting for him to analyse. It was quite apparent he wasn't too happy about being forced to lose weight. He thought that he had suffered quite a lot in Thundercrash, so he now felt a little proud. He probably heard Moriad mention that Claude had an important task for him, so he was trying to act uncooperatively to protest the treatment he had been given.

Claude had never doubted the abilities of his teenage playmate. Borkal had a natural charisma that allowed him to easily get into others' good graces and cause them to offer him help subconsciously That was the reason his business was so smooth sailing. He knew how to split his profits and let others have some pieces of the pie. His harmless face also made others naturally put their guards down around him. Coupled with his sharp business acumen, how could he not make money?

That was why when Claude heard Moriad complaining about how Borkal managed to get along with the others in the corps to the point he was receiving meals enough for three to four people, he knew that his fat-loss plan was ruined. No matter how strict he policed Borkal, it would be pointless. He had made Thundercrash's kitchen his home turf.

It wasn't that complicated a reason. Even with major privileges, Borkal should've only been able to get an additional meal serving. Yet, Moriad said Borkal ate enough for four at a time. That showed he earned the trust and goodwill of the canteen. He could eat as he pleased with nobody able to stop him.

Claude wasn't mad either at being ignored. He returned to his desk and sat down in his chair, staring at Borkal without a word. The office fell completely silent with nobody speaking minute after minute.

Eventually, Borkal seemed unable to take it any longer. He started stealing glances at Claude from the corner of his eyes and noticed him looking back at him while leaning back into his chair lazily. He then began to feel something was off: he was standing up and Claude was looking at him seated. No matter what pose he stood in, it felt really weird.

"W-what did you c-call me in for?" he asked in the end, dropping much of his stubborn act immediately. He decided he would take this up with him after he dealt with this matter first.

"Major, you have to greet me." Claude put both his hands behind his head.

Borkal was flaring mad, but there was nothing he could do. Claude was now his superior and he was in the right. Though Claude was the one who summoned him, he was just a major and had to salute and greet.

"General, I, Major Borkal Bodeman, tribesman of the Banjilia keeper tribe, am reporting for duty. I await your orders." He stood up straight and saluted after his loud greeting.

"To attention." Claude returned with a casual salute and spoke in a professional tone. "Major Borkal, I regret to tell you that your Banjilia keepers are no more. They have been absorbed into Thundercrash and the other Monolith folks, so your post has also been cancelled. You're merely a major on colonial grounds awaiting your next post.

"Additionally, theatre command has many thoughts about your usefulness. Many believe that you're unfit to be major based on your body shape alone. They easily come to the conclusion that you're not even fit to be a soldier. Some even suggested you be discharged as a captain. What do you think we should do, Major Borkal?"

"Nothing!" Borkal glared at him angrily with his veins popping. If he was discharged dishonourably and returned home, he would be the humiliation of the family. Everyone knew he had become a major, but if he lost a rank in Nubissia and was given a dishonourable discharge as a captain, his family's business would no longer benefit off him any longer and his rank would be a joke. He would never be able to raise his head high again.

"Claude, is this how you want to treat your old friend?" Borkal said, his face flushed with rage. "Don't beat around the bush. I know you have something important you need me to do, so that's why you're threatening me with your subtleties, right? Just tell me. What will you have me do?"

Yet, Borkal didn't expect Claude's reaction would be even more overblown than his. Claude slammed the table with a loud wham and stood up angrily. "So you still dare to claim to be my old friend?! I had you go lose weight, but it seems to me now that you're eating to your heart's content in Thundercrash! Three to four servings, I see. Are you a pig who knows nothing but eating and fattening up? Just look at your figure! You call yourself a soldier?

"You're roughly 1.76 metres tall and after losing 80 plus catties, you still weigh still around 194 catties. There's nothing but fatty meat on you! You think I'm trying to humiliate you by suggesting a discharge? I'm trying to keep you alive! Fool! This is the war theatre, not your stupid peaceful city where you can eat and drink all you want! Every soldier here is prepared to stake their lives in battle! Do you think anything good will come from your figure on the battlefield?

"You think discharging you as a captain is shameful? Fool! Don't forget that this is the war theatre! You can only be discharged after losing a rank! You're not a normal soldier who can just go home if you don't pass the tests! You're a major! The former tribesman of a local force! The moment you were transferred to my war theatre, our fates were bound! If you don't get demoted, we won't be able to pass the kingdom's audits, understood?!"

Borkal jerked his neck back.

"I never wanted to be discharged."

"Huh..."

Claude was so angry he was laughing.

"Then what can you do? Continue to eat like you have always done? Drain the enemy food stores after you are taken captive? I'm doing this for your own good, fatty. I want to keep you alive. Don't forget you're the only son your parents have. Not to mention you have three sons of your own. If you don't want your children to lose their father, you better listen to what I tell you and go back home after your discharge. While you'll lose a rank, at least you'll get to stay home and enjoy life with your family."

"It's not like I haven't tasted battle, Claude. Don't give me that 'take care of me' bullshit. You know well I can't face anyone if I return discharged. I can't join the veteran support groups. They'll see me as an insult."

He gazed deep into Claude's eyes.

"I know you have other plans. Just tell me what you need me to do."

Claude shrugged helplessly.

"Fine, at least your head is still sharp. You know I won't force your discharge. Seriously, Boa, you know you can't go into battle with that figure. The enemy will instantly recognise you as a high-ranking officer and take you out.

"You can't get a good post here either. Your skills are mercantile. You're barely even a greenhorn in troop command. I wanted to put you in logistics, but Major-General Skri is nothing if not strict. He'll instantly suspect you of embezzling supplies the moment he sets his eyes on that tub of lard you call a stomach. How else could you get so fat?

"I want you to take off your uniform. I want you to join my secret intelligence. Given your figure, no one will suspect you of being a spy. These are some documents you can look over. You can either go home thereafter, or follow the plan. The choice is yours."

Borkal shot him a hateful glare. The bastard was trying to entrap him again. He knew Claude too well by now. But he had no choice. Who could've imagined Claude's rank would shoot up so much? Claude was now a major-general, a field marshal, and folksman of Thundercrash, whereas Borkal was just the tribesman of a local force. He was free for Claude to mould as he pleased. It was an absolutely disgusting feeling.

He opened the folder and gave it a brief scan. His eyes lit up. The mission was simple. He was to become a smuggler investing in the bull business and head to Port Vebator. Once there he was to collect any scrap of information he could find.

Bull business used to be very popular in Balingana. Miselk's scorched earth did away with that just as it did away with many other things. Claude had ordered Myjack to buy up every company he could to clear the field. And they'd all been put under Borkal's name.

He was to head to Port Vebator with four ships full of food on a search for business in the dwindling bull industry. Claude was being quite generous. He had signed over 20 percent actual shares in the business to Borkal. He would thus make a profit of any sale he could make.

"Aren't you afraid you'll be accused of aiding the enemy?" Borkal asked.

The documents were clear that Shiks' food crisis had not let up. They were incurring huge losses because they had to rely on food shipments from the mainland. So selling them food would be very profitable, but would also seriously undermine the advantage this gave their own side.

Claude spat out a couple laughs.

"Don't worry. No matter how much you sell, we'll rob them clean!"

Borkal cursed quietly. His time in Thundercrash had taught him much of Claude's exploits. He was a hero in the eyes of the men. Their god of victory. Borkal's ears had nearly fallen off after about a dozen stories.

"So I'll be free to make decisions on all things trade?"

"Yes. As a major investor in a failing company, you are free to make any decisions you deem necessary. However, I recommend you buy as many workhorses as you can. They're in incredibly short supply right now, especially with the 100 thousand new families. They now sell for three times what they fetch back home. I trust Shiksan informants, if they exist, have long since let their masters know. Trading your food for workhorses will be the sensible business move. You'll only look suspicious if you don't try to take advantage of this lucrative opportunity..."

"I had heard the head chefs of Thundercrash bring this up before. They said they would often be stopped on their carriage during their shopping trips and asked whether they would be willing to sell their workhorses for a high price. They even have guards on duty watch their carriages in fear that the horses would be stolen," Borkal said.

Claude grimaced helplessly. "It's a problem we have no way of solving for now. There are already many cases of conflict among the settlers because of work horses. That's why I hope you can buy some more from Port Vebator to relieve us a little. But don't forget, trading is not your main assignment. What you absolutely have to do is to find out what happened to our other informants and send us updates on the situation starting three months back."

"I'll need the account book of the past year for this company as well as their former members. As an investor, I must know the company well as well as their usual pipelines and connections," Borkal said.

"Of course. I already have them prepared--" Claude pulled on the bell-rope behind him and Anders came in. "--General, your orders?"

Claude pointed at Borkal. "Bring Major Borkal to Colonel Kefist from logistics. Tell him Operation Bull Trade can begin."

"Yes, General."

Even though he didn't know what the operation entailed, he politely asked Borkal to leave with him.

Borkal shot Claude one final glance, saluted, and left with the man.

Claude returned home for lunch to good news from Angelina. She had had a hot-air engine built. She complained about the thing's weight and unwieldiness, however. It was nowhere near as powerful or refined as the things Claude had had her make before. She believed using an array to make such an inelegant thing was an insult. She refused to make any more.

Claude laughed and told her the thing she would be worth as much as an array. He went to her laboratory impatiently after the meal and inspected her work intently. After making sure it wasn't that much different from the one he knew since childhood, he ordered Gum to load it on the carriage for shipment to the forge. He also sent someone to notify Weyblon to make a trip there.

Hot-air engines had many weaknesses. For instance, they took a long time to start up. It would take up to ten minutes for enough wood to burn to make the piston move. Only after the black gas escaped from the side pipe would the piston fall and rise again. The rumbling sound was also rather ear piercing.

Claude looked at Weyblon's dumbfounded look and laughed. "Friend, how do you think this compares to water power?"

"It's unbelievable!" he gasped, "General, how did you design this gas-powered machine?!"

"It's simple, my friend. If you've noticed, when you boil water in a kettle, the steam can rattle even the heavy lid. So, think about what happens when hot air expands."

"General, you're a true genius!"

Chapter 374 - Bull Hunting

'I'm really not suited to working in the office... Being on the battlefield is much more comfortable for me.' Claude, who echoed such a sentiment, was currently blazing through the wide plains on his mount. The view of the endless Albator Plains brought his mood to cloud nine.

A few smoke signals could be seen rising up in the distance. Myjack, who was at the forefront, raised his palm, and the rest riding behind him slowed their pace. They were one of the groups of the scout tent Thundercrash sent out. They should've come back to report something.

As expected, the four horsemen in the distance pulled on their reins and dismounted. They came to Myjack while escorting their horses. Myjack asked them a couple questions before he took the bearded leader to Claude.

"General, this is Staff-Sergeant Linkmart from Line 1301 Scout Clan of Thundercrash Folk. I have news from Lieutenant-Colonel Berklin. We have discovered the bulls' migratory routes and are currently scouting near the bull herd. We have yet to discover any traces of the enemy," the soldier reported loudly after a salute.

The migration of a million bulls was by no means a covert event, but Albator Plains stretched almost endlessly and the bulls didn't necessarily use the same routes each year. Oftentimes, their route would shift for fresher sources of water and grazing grounds. As such, the herd had to first be located on the plains before any hunting could begin.

Those who've never seen a herd of a million bulls before couldn't possibly imagine the true scale of the migration. Looking from on far, it only seemed like a dark, cloudy mass moving across the plains. Whatever green they crossed were turned into a rust-red, muddy mess.

"General, we can't get any closer," Linkmart said as he led the way. He was born in the colonies and had been picked to transfer into Thundercrash from one of the colonial corps and also had years of bull-hunting experience.

"It's safe 500 metres away from the herd. Beyond that is where the other predators hunt. Entering without preparation would only prompt attack from them. Not to mention, a hundred metres away from the bulls are where they are most alert. The moment the bulls take you for an enemy, a few of them would charge at you until they drive you to a safe distance. General, our horses can't take the charges of these bulls. Sometimes, their short-distance sprints can be much faster than a war horse's gallop," he explained.

Claude reasoned it should be mostly true. He had seen a few famous carnivorous beasts on Nubissia, among them included pack-like long-tooth lions, agile and combat-adept Nubissian manticores, floral-patterned hunting leopards, savage red-hair wolves and the like. Almost all of the carnivores so far discovered to be on Nubissia appeared in range of the bull herd, ready to strike at any moment. But most often, they would get into a fight with a minor herd of bulls and their cries and shrieks reverberated nonstop.

"Staff-Sergeant Linkmart, can you tell us how you hunted those bulls?" Claude asked.

"Of course, General." Linkmart pointed excitedly at the herd not far ahead. "If we hunt bulls, we can't do it at the front of the herd as the bulls there are the most fearsome and aggressive. They are akin to the vanguard of our troops who are in charge of paving the way. Anyone that blocks them will easily be mowed down by the frenzied bulls. They don't care how strong the enemy is and will only charge at them single mindedly until they're crushed to bits.

"Similarly, the front flanks are also a bad choice. Attacking them there will cause the bulls to break into a frenzied pursuit. They won't stop no matter what. I heard some old bull hunters say that a troupe of nobles had come to Nubissia on a trip and wanted to join the hunt when they heard about it. They avoided the frontmost part and instead tried to flank the bulls.

"Initially, they managed to hunt ten plus bulls without a hitch, but they got too close to the bulls without realising it. The bulls from the rear were closing in on them and eventually surrounded them from all sides. Now that they had the bulls' attention, they were pursued nonstop. Eventually, they were trapped amidst tens of thousands of bulls and when their mounts were finally unable to run any more, the noble's troupe with some 30 attendants were all trampled into mud by the bulls.

"Usually, the better spot to hunt the bulls would be the rear flanks. But we must first chase the carnivores away from that area. Make them know that those parts are human territory and we'd have a much easier time getting kills. However, most of the bulls located near the rear are sickly or old. They aren't worth too much to bull hunters and their meat doesn't taste that good either. Usually, they're turned into jerky and sold that way.

"Even if we're hunting near the rear, we still have to pay attention to the carnivores. There have been instances when the hunters weren't able to maintain dominance over their hunting territory and got attacked by the other predators. The slightest mistake could cause harm to the rest of the crew. So, basically, hunters would give up on hunting during the evenings and retreat to a camp a kilometre away with their catch and prepare to defend against predator attacks there. Only on the next day would they consider retaking some of the hunting territory from the predators.

"If we can form a hunting unit of a hundred plus people, the ideal part to hunt would be near the tail end of the bull herd. Most of the bulls there are older and weak ones who can't keep up with the front, but you'll also find some fit ones from time to time such as young adults that just started living alone. Those are the best prey for bull hunters.

"One good thing about hunting near the rear is we wouldn't have to fear retaliation. However, we do have to pay attention to the barely mature bulls that might attack from time to time. They're usually really aggressive and don't care about how many you have or whether you're a hunter or beast. Once triggered, those bulls will give you hell until they die.

"And the one thing to pay the most attention to at the tail end are the wolf packs. Whether they be red-hair wolves or grassland wolves, they are the most troublesome things hunters have to face. The wolves are large in number and also remember grudges. Every time a bull migration occurs, those wolves would form into large packs and tail the bull herd from the rear. On one hand, they would be hunting bulls like normal. On the other, they'll rob other carnivores of their prey. Sometimes, even the fiercest manticores have to give up on their game and leave.

"There have been bull hunters that managed to kill off tens of wolves fighting them for their prey. They ended up surrounded by thousands of wolves during the night and fought for three days and nights. They only managed to hold their camp after suffering heavy losses and killing hundreds of red-hair wolves. In the end, the bull herd left and the wolves retreated, so they had no choice but to head home to recover. The trip ended up making them a loss.

"Now, experienced hunters would give the weaker bulls they hunted to the wolf packs and take the fresher ones for themselves. Only then can the boundaries be drawn properly. In our experience, we have to leave at least one bull for every three we get for the wolves. If we take them all, the wolves will leap for the next bull we hunt."

Everyone surrounding Linkmart listened with keen interest. Myjack asked, "Staff-Sergeant Linkmart, what do you think is most crucial for bull hunting?"

Linkmart gave it some thought before he answered, "A well-defended encampment and enough support staff, I suppose. Hunting the bulls themselves is what hunters do, but after that, we'll need support to transport the bulls for treatment at camp. They'll have to be skinned, drained of blood, have their meat smoked and their horns and leather preserved. All that requires manpower and the profits of the hunt will depend on it.

"Additionally, the sheer number of predators will pose quite a huge threat to us hunters. So, a protected camp can afford us much-needed sleep to recover our energy. Only a third of the hunting unit are actual hunters. The rest are all support staff. We have to find a location a kilometre away from the bulls to set up camp. As for supplies, we source them mostly from the rear and dig trenches for added defence."

Gum suddenly asked, "Are the abandoned campsites we passed by just now camps used for old hunts?"

Linkmart nodded. "That's right. I think the earliest of them had been built ten years ago. But lately, the bulls' migratory routes have been closing in to the east. So these camps become useless after one or two years. Straying too far from the herd can be quite dangerous as well and the corpses would harden to change the texture of the meat."

Claude looked at the skies and asked his men to set up camp. Then, he told Linkmart to bring someone to hunt a few bulls for some fresh food. He wanted to see whether the former bull hunter had gone rusty.

Linkmart called a few other ex-hunters up without hesitation and took three carriages with them to the herd. Claude and Myjack waited atop a hill and looked at them from a telescope from a distance to see how they hunted.

First, Linkmart and his men cried out loudly and caused quite a commotion as they cracked their loud whips, scaring away three floral-patterned leopards. They then stopped their carriages there before LInkmart led the rest even closer to the herd.

They didn't charge into it directly. Instead, Linkmart and the others lined side by side to surround and cut some five bulls away from their herd. They then chased the bulls away with their whips and took them from their herd's zone of attention.

One of the bulls seemed to have a flaring temper and suddenly turned around before ramming into one of the mounts without a care in the world. Thankfully, Linkmart had warned that soldier beforehand. The soldier swerved his horse to the left and avoided collision with that bull.

The bull, having missed its target, stopped abruptly, but it noticed that it was too far away from the pack. It turned to look around in confusion and back at its herd, before stopping to graze.

By then, Linkmart and the rest were already around a hundred metres from the bull herd. They now rode in a different motion with two men sandwiching the bull from both sides to prevent it from turning. Linkmart had his lit musket held out and shot the back of the bull's head.

A loud bang could be heard, followed by a puff of smoke.

Claude could wholly see blood dripping out of the back of the bull's head. The running bull continued forwards for a few more steps before it tumbled and crashed into the ground, its legs still twitching.

Three other bulls suffered the same fate, one of which was shot at the back of the head by Linkmart and collapsed not long after. However, the other two bulls didn't play along that nicely. One jumped wildly after being shot like it had rabies. Fortunately, the other soldier on the side reacted quickly enough and put another bullet into it quick to put it down for good.

The last bull was shot on the right flank and swerved left, forcing the other soldier who hadn't fired yet to turn his horse around and avoid the strike. Then, this bull broke out of their formation and raged on as if it hadn't been injured at all and ran faster and further away.

Linkmart and the rest couldn't deal with that bull. They had fired all the muskets they had once and could only stop to rest. They called the carriages to load the three bulls they got, reloaded and reset their slow matches to defend against the wild beasts staring nearby.

When the carriages arrived, four to five soldiers served as lookouts while the rest moved the heavy bull corpses onto the carriages. Only after that did they head towards the rear.

Having seen the show, Claude now understood how bulls were meant to be hunted. Unlike what he imagined, only by shooting the rear of the bull's head could they be killed in one shot. He initially thought the bulls could be shot from a hundred metres away. It was apparent that if they couldn't target the vitals to put the bulls down quickly enough, they would anger the bulls and risk their retaliation instead.

The three bulls hunted according to Linkmart's methods were probably weaker ones, being around a thousand catties in weight. Stronger bulls usually weighed around 1500 catties. A few years back, a group of hunters lost two to three of their men by hunting a king bull, which was said to weigh more than 2700 catties. It was said to have stood up to two metres in height and was incredibly terrifying.

The bulls they hunted became their dinner. Claude ordered Thundercrash to not hunt any for the next two days as their main goal was to find traces of the enemy. He wondered whether anyone from the voluntary Canasian light-cavalry corps was sent out to continue hunting the migration bull in Albator Plains of Balingana.

Chapter 375 - Dawn Attack

"General, we received Line 1302's eagle message. Their scouts discovered traces of the enemy and are currently monitoring them from cover and awaiting further orders," Anders reported.

"Oh, so we finally found them..." Claude snapped awake. It had been a week since they found the bull herd and they only just located the enemies now. It seemed that the Canasian voluntary light-cavalry corps really treasured money more than their own lives. Even though they knew well that their scouts had been disappearing, most likely taken captive, they still came, despite the possibility that their bull-hunting excursion had been leaked. They were so keen on making money that they were ready to ignore five Aueran enhanced folks...

"Where are they and how are their numbers?" Claude had just been gearing up for a nap, only to be informed of the enemy right after he laid down in bed. He sat straight up and adjusted his uniform as he asked more about it.

Anders helped Claude with his armaments and continued, "Not much was stated in the letter, but I believe the numbers aren't small. Lieutenant-Colonel Moriad's letter states that the scouts they sent out were slaughtering the wolf pack behind the bull herd and caused quite a huge commotion. That was how they were discovered in the first place."

Slaughtering? It was apparent to Claude that the enemy had at least a line of troops. Otherwise, they wouldn't choose to take on the thousands of wolves following behind the bulls. They were prepared to deal with the annoying wolves first before going in to hunt the bulls. This way, they wouldn't have to worry about being harassed by the wolves constantly. Only with a large enough force would they not have to worry about retaliation by the wolves. Perhaps they even came to see the wolves as their prey.

"Blow the horn and prepare to set out. Let's head for Line 1302's camp in half an hour," Claude ordered.

By traveling slightly far off from the bulls' migratory route, it took two days of marching for them to reach Line 1302's encampment. It was located on a small hill near four kilometres away from the bull herd. The encampment was impossible to discover from far away. Claude was quite satisfied at Moriad's growth. He had chosen a rather decent place to set up camp.

Upon learning of Claude and the main force's arrival, Moriad had ordered his men to expand the encampment to accommodate the main folk and the two accompanying lines. He also came to receive Claude and gave him a report immediately.

The million migrating cows took up roughly five kilometres of land in width alone. Moriad's Line 1302 noticed the enemy around the west side of the herd. They amounted to around two lines of men and after killing off near a thousand red-back wolves and grassland wolves, they began their hunt on the bulls. From his covert observations, Moriad reasoned that the enemy probably split up into two halves, each with two lines of men, one in the east and the other in the west. That way, they would greatly increase their hunting efficiency for the most gains.

Claude also sent out two Thundercrash lines as the vanguard to seek out traces of the enemy. Now that Moriad's line found them, Claude immediately used a carrier eagle to send an order to Berklin's Line 1301 for them to attack the enemy directly from the rear. They would first seal off their escape route before giving them a sound beating.

This time around, the Canasian corps only sent a folk of their forces for the bull hunt. Claude was confident he would be able to exterminate that folk on Albator Plains in totality so that not a single one could return to report their loss.

But before he launched the attack, he still needed to make more observations.

From the telescope, he could tell that the Canasians were all really skilled riders. They could easily part tens of bulls away from the main herd in a matter of minutes and easily dealt the killing blows. Each hunting bout took no more than half an hour. The transport carriages that followed behind would then bring the bull carcasses to a camp not far away for processing. The whole cycle repeated itself endlessly and they almost looked like a bull-slaughtering factory.

It was no wonder the captives said that they managed to kill some 30 thousand bulls the previous year with only a folk of troops and earned up to 80 thousand crowns. No wonder the Canasians were willing to hunt the bulls despite knowing that their captive scouts might leak their plans and still send only one folk of troops there. The potential benefit was far too alluring; 80 thousand crowns was a side hustle nobody could realistically refuse.

Perhaps the enemy merely thought that the five enhanced folks weren't threatening enough, given that they had just been formed recently. Or, they were probably just too confident in their own combat capabilities. They might think that hunting bulls this year was still safe since the five new Aueran corps wouldn't attack them this year.

While the enemy did seem to hold that opinion, they were still experienced soldiers. Their encampment was set up at a spot rather easy to defend. They also dug a moat around two metres wide and three metres deep and used the mud they unearthed to build a simple mud wall three metres in height before reinforcing them at the rear with logs. They built another defensive wall behind the mud one and fortified themselves quite well.

If it were Ranger from back then, they would have to pay a huge price to take a wall like that. But now, Claude had his mortar and he was confident he could turn the walls into a prison to lock the enemies in to prevent them from escaping. Before the attack began, however, the troops of Thundercrash still had much prep work to do, for instance, building moat-crossing boards and the like.

"General, Lieutenant-Colonel Berklin sends word of his discovery of the enemy's rear folk. They are still two days away from us," Anders announced.

"What? The enemy has an additional folk?" Claude grabbed the letter and looked closely. Berklin said that he sent a tent of scouts to the border between Balingana and Cromwell. It wasn't meant to be any kind of initiative. He just wanted to see whether he could capture a few enemy scouts or signallers. He didn't think his scouts would actually discover a folk of enemies marching at the border.

But why have the Canasian cavalrymen began moving? Claude read the time of discovery noted in the letter. It was marked as ten in the morning. Currently, it was already four in the afternoon and close to a day had passed. In other words, the enemy would be upon them in a day or a day and a half's time. Thundercrash didn't have much time left.

"Send word to Lieutenant-Colonel Berklin to find a suitable place and await my orders. Have him stop the reinforcements of the enemy no matter what to buy us some time to eliminate the folk that's hunting the bulls. Also, pass this order on to the troops. We'll have dinner an hour earlier today. After that, all troops are to immediately rest. Thundercrash is to storm the enemy camp first thing at dawn," Claude decided.

"Yes, General." Anders saluted energetically before he left to pass the orders on.

"Wait. Have all the tribesmen come here. Let's have a pre-battle council for task delegation," Claude instructed.

It was already rather deep into the night and the bonfires burned bright outside the enemy camp. Their bonfire placement was quite apt to prevent surprise nighttime attacks, as expected of an experienced force that had fought during the five-year war. They were the ones who prepared the best defence back in Rimodra. The bonfires were placed at both banks of the moat, separated by some 30 metres and illuminating 50 metres ahead from camp.

No enemy soldier would be able to avoid detection from the lookouts on the walls. The moment they entered the light, they would be shot at.

Claude and the others saw from on far one floral-patterned leopard approach the camp, having been attracted by the fire. The instant it approached the moat, some seven shots fired at it. The leopard stumbled and tumbled into the ground. After ten minutes, a carriage was sent out from the camp to collect the carcass before it returned beyond the camp's walls.

The high-ranking officers that witnessed that scene began to shudder. The enemy wasn't new at this. They should be considered among the toughest troops to deal with. They were the top elite, completely unlike the pathetic Shiksan standing corps they had faced.

"Alright, let's go back--" Claude put his telescope away. "--I'm sure you're all aware of our enemy's might. They aren't much weaker than our folk. But you all just have to remember the tasks you're given. Strike Tribe will immediately conquer their walls and gates, so all you have to do is to fight and take care of your respective areas, got it?"

"General, are you certain Strike can breach the enemy's walls and take the gates?" Moriad asked worriedly.

"Of course. We have a secret weapon, after all."

Around four at dawn, the darkest point of night had passed. A sliver of white appeared in the sky, before it was stained red. Red was a common colour in the sights of Nubissia. The sky, earth and even sea were red.

The lookouts on the walls that had had nothing better to do for the good part of the night relaxed their guard. Daytime would come sooner or later. That day was a rather tense day. They were all rather worn out from the hunting, but as long as they could tough through these two months, everyone would earn up to three gold lunis, the standard Canasian gold coin. Three of them were worth approximately two Aueran crowns. Was there an easier, more profitable job than that? It was said that the corps had decided to spend even more effort hunting bulls, so their profits could be double those of last year. That meant that each soldier might get double the bonus from last year.

Most of the bonfires near the camp were being put out. While the fires fueled by dried cow dung burned rather well, they didn't smell that good. It smelled just like one would imagine: charred shit. But on the plains, there was no other way to start a fire, especially with little to no trees in sight. Now that the sky was brightening up, the fires were put out and they let out thick wafts of smoke that obscured vision around the camp.

The lookouts were already used to the smoke. Not long after, the dawn breeze would come and clear out the area. Even if they heard any sound nearby, they would assume it was nothing more than a hungry carnivore that came due to the smell of cooking meat. No matter. When the sky turned bright, the troops from within camp would set out and the beasts outside wouldn't be able to escape even if it wanted to.

So, even when countless iron canisters fell into the camp, none of the lookouts reacted to it. They merely looked at the iron canisters curiously. One of them even wanted to pick it up and see what it was.

Then the explosions rang. The inside of the camp had turned into instant hell on earth. Chunks of meat and fountains of blood splattered all over the place. Even a good part of the defensive walls had broken down.

"Enemy attack!" some survivors cried.

Not like anyone needed any reminding. The explosions were already a painful testament to that fact. The discharged Canasian soldiers were indeed true veterans. They immediately reacted and charged to the walls with their muskets in hand. That was the strongest, most fortified part of their camp and they would never yield it to the enemy no matter how harsh the attack. As long as one person remained there, the enemy wouldn't be able to take that wall that easily.

Not a single soldier was shocked at the scene. They didn't even stop to help their comrades who were in agonising pain and crying for help. If their walls were taken by the enemy, even more of their comrades would die. Their whole unit could end up exterminated, including themselves...

But the moment the fearless soldiers reached their point and began searching for their enemies, a couple iron canisters letting out green smoke fell next to them and exploded. Fire, smoke and chunks of human meat flew all over the place as countless cries and screams rang out.

The canisters were launched in four to five volleys. After that, not a single Canasian soldier dared head to the walls. The walls were already mostly crumbled anyway and most of the logs that supported it from behind had collapsed. That, however, wasn't as glaring as the sight of the bloody, meaty mush that covered around two metres of that wall. It was as if multiple gigantic blood splatters surfaced on many parts of the ground.

When the first Thundercrash soldier peeked over the wall and aimed with his musket, he immediately went back down the ladder and puked at the gory sight.

The battle proceeded as expected. Claude secured an easy win with his mortars. Two enemy lines were completely wiped out and their painstaking efforts hunting bulls all ended up benefiting Claude.

The only thing he wasn't satisfied about was using up near a thousand of those mortar rounds to allow his men to have no trouble scaling and taking the walls, only for them to suffer around 370 casualties fighting the stubborn remnants of the enemies that remained. Claude was so angry at the casualties he harshly rebuked Moriad and Dyavid for making their advance so hastily.

Chapter 376 - The Second Encampment

Moriad and Dyavid stood before Claude crestfallenly. The two of them had been far too greedy for achievements and led their men in a charge towards the final tent area where the enemy was still stubbornly resisting. Little did they know that their foes would take out two light-infantry cannons and unload scatter shot on their men. In an instant, near a hundred men were injured, causing nearly a third of the total casualties suffered in this battle.

The cries for help and the curses of the enemy could be heard from the distance, but that wouldn't do much to change the fate of the dying soldiers. The last troops to surrender were the discharged Canasian soldiers. Humiliatingly faced with the gun barrels and bayonets of the victors, they could only watch as their comrades were massacred. Apart from their objections, begging and cursing, there was nothing else they could do to delay their deaths.

Claude had ordered for everyone among the last batch of surrendered soldiers to be put to death. He wasn't trying to avenge the injured and dead members of Thundercrash. Instead, he was going to make an example out of them to shock the other Canasian captives so that they would have a much easier time controlling them.

As Claude was about to leave with most of his troops to the east of the bull herd to attack the campsite of the other two Canasian lines, he wouldn't be able to leave too many people behind to watch the captives anyway. So, he killed off the most outspoken resistors to ensure that nothing huge would change once his unit left.

If Shiks was Aueras' number-one enemy, then Canas would definitely take a close second place. In any other battle when the gates were conquered, the Shiksans would've quickly surrendered.

Yet, the so-called Canasian volunteers, even after being completely caught off guard by the mortars and startled by the huge damage done to their walls, were still able to resist the soldiers of Thundercrash who were pouring in to their camp, managing to cause them some two hundred casualties.

And that was what they had done without instruction from any superior officer. They either fought themselves or formed into their own tents before mounting a resistance. Claude had ordered that all those who resisted to be put to death even if they eventually surrendered. As for the veterans that ambushed Moriad and Dyavid's men with cannons, Claude gave the order for them to be massacred the moment they dropped their weapons and surrendered!

Two lines, numbering 12 thousand men in total, had around 5400 of them taken captive. It could be seen how serious their resistance was. Apart from the 700 plus stubborn enemies, Claude also ordered for around two thousand injured veterans to be sent on their journey to the afterlife earlier regardless of their state of injury. Thundercrash had neither the need nor energy to bother with treating them. As for the five thousand plus captives who were terrified by the massacre, Claude got some men to escort them to Lanu to work as free labour.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Anders," Claude called.

"Awaiting your orders, General!" Anders, the linesman of Line 1304, stepped forward from behind Moriad and Dyavid and saluted. Claude's massacre order didn't only frighten the five thousand Canasian captives. Even most of the officers in Thundercrash were appalled by his fierce methods.

Shots were still being fired and the final cries of the dead always lingered in the corner of his ears. However, he heard Claude's order nice and clear. "Pick two tribes from your line to escort the heavy support tribe and the captives back to Robisto. Hand the captives and our injured to 1st Monolith's Major-General Bolonik. After that, hand my order to Mister Weyblon and get the mortars produced from the workshop to the frontlines, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Anders replied loud and clear.

He took out some pencil and paper for Claude to scrawl up an order on the spot. Claude stamped it and signed the document before putting his fingerprint and personal seal on it. He then handed it to Anders.

"Alright, I'll leave the rest here to you. If the captives behave unruly mid transit, I grant you the authority to deal with them on the spot," Claude said, before he turned to Moriad and Dyavid. He gave them each a kick. "Buzz off and get your units back into order. I'll give you thirty minutes! We'll head out immediately and go to the east camp the captives told us about! This time, be careful!"

"Yes, General, we won't disappoint you this time." The two of them seemed revitalised after that kick; it meant Claude had forgiven them. They saluted and ran back to their troops.

The Canasian light-cavalry corps had two lines stationed near the east. They weren't aware that the two lines in the west had already been exterminated and were still busy hunting the bulls. When the vanguard, Myjack's Strike Tribe, appeared in the Canasians' line of vision, they thought it was a small Aueran scout unit that happened to stumble to where they were.

They wondered how the enemy scout tent managed to break through the defence perimeter set up by their western comrades. Even so, they didn't recall those that were hunting the bulls and instead chose to send out a clan of men to drive Myjack and the rest away.

Myjack reacted really swiftly and immediately turned tail with the other ten-odd riders, baiting the clan of enemies to where they wanted them to be.

By the time the tens of Canasian troops near the front crossed over a slope, they were shocked by the sight that greeted them. They could see a thousand soldiers in neat formation aiming at them with guns. They were no more than 40 metres apart.

Further in the distance, another even larger force was coming their way. They roughly estimated there to be some 30 thousand troops.

"E-enemy attack!..." The leader croaked out a growl. He thought he had yelled pretty loudly, but only a few soldiers near him could pick up what he said.

The rest of the riders had swarmed up on them from the rear, only to be stunned the moment they saw what their comrades had.

"Fire!" Myjack waved his hand down.

Gunshots rang out nonstop as the landscape was decorated by the intermingling of muzzle flare and rising smoke. The Canasians gathered at the top of the slope were wiped out almost entirely in an instant. Corpses and carcasses of horses piled up on the mountains as those fortunate enough to not be killed in the first exchange cried out in pain. Only a few who were lucky enough not to be shot immediately turned tail to run.

"Pursue!" Myjack ordered.

The first three rows of soldiers who had fired slung their muskets on their backs, drew their riding blades and gave chase immediately. The soldiers in the fourth and fifth row rode up the slope gradually with Myjack and gave any injured but living enemies the coup de grace.

A Canasian light-cavalry clan usually only numbered some two hundred men. Yet, more than a hundred were crushed at the slope alone. The remaining sixty plus were running back to their camp for their lives as they loudly cried 'enemy attack!'.

The commotion caused was rather huge. Even those near the bull herd stopped their hunting. They turned to look back at the running soldiers and seemed to understand what was going on based on their incessant flailing. They left the bulls they hunted and darted for their camp immediately.

By the time Claude arrived with the main force, the two enemy lines had cooped up in their camp and made defensive preparations. Fortunately, the enemy troops were there to hunt bulls, so they didn't bring many cannons with them. According to the captives from the west side, the two lines only had 24 light-infantry cannons, half their usual loadout.

"Let's attack according to plan. We'll take at most half a day to conquer their camp," Claude said.

It was daytime and the enemy would definitely send a note to the reinforcements that were on the way of Thundercrash's attack. If they couldn't take the enemy camp within half a day, they would have to count on Berklin's unit to delay the advance of the reinforcements.

The whole enemy camp had been surrounded. The cannons were in place and the preparations to attack were complete an hour later. Claude waved to mark the beginning of the strike.

First, Thundercrash's light-infantry cannons all fired from 800 metres away at the encampment's walls with fist-sized rounds. Aueran cannons were slightly more powerful than those of their enemy and it was the kind that could shoot the furthest. The enemy cannons could only fire 700 metres away at most, but these Aueran ones could attack from 800 metres away, meaning that the enemy could do nothing to retaliate.

But four volleys of cannon fire weren't able to pose much of a threat to the enemy. In the end, they waited for the dust near the walls to settle. The cannon fire was only there to cover the approach of Thundercrash's soldiers. The first batch of soldiers spread out and approached camp by crawling to avoid volley and cannon fire from within enemy camps. They stopped when they were about a hundred metres from the walls and each drew out a shovel to quickly dig a hole to hide themselves in. They soon began firing at the enemies on the walls, causing them significant casualties to stop them from poking their heads out from cover carelessly.

The Canasians were also armed with precise-aiming muskets that were inferior to their Aueran counterparts in terms of firing range and accuracy. Aubass Mark 3s could shoot a hundred metres away whereas the enemy's muskets could only do 80.

The mission of the first batch of soldiers was to mount suppression fire on the defending Canasians and avoid enemy scatter shot. By the time the enemy was suppressed enough, the second batch of soldiers from Thundercrash made their move. They crawled and entered the manholes the first batch of soldiers dug out and continued digging their way forwards with their shovels.

Soon, they managed to dig out a trench 70 metres away from the enemy camp. They stopped digging forwards and inside focused on digging downwards and then sideways, piling up the unearthed dirt on the side of the enemy camp.

The defenders in camp appeared to notice what they were doing, but didn't seem to mind. While they found the digging to be a little bizarre, they didn't think the Auerans were trying to do anything more than suppressing their fire from a closer distance.

The second batch of soldiers were already within the enemy's effective firing range and began to take fire. However, most of the shots were mitigated by the piles of dirt that stacked up.

The third batch of troops now made their attack. They were all members of Strike Tribe. They set out in groups of three, with one person carrying the mortar and two others slinging large sacks on their backs with four mortar canisters each. They were headed for the large trench the second batch of soldiers had finished digging.

A hundred separate groups from the third batch successfully made it into the trench. There were some ten soldiers who were felled by enemy fire on the way there. The soldiers who entered the trench continued digging until it was wide enough for them to kneel so that the enemy wouldn't be able to aim at them.

The enemies in the camp soon seemed to realise that the Auerans in the trenches only 70 metres away posed a huge threat to them. They decided to use their light-infantry cannons for two volleys of scatter shot, but the earthen walls mitigated most of the damage. Only few casualties were sustained on the Aueran side. Instead, the tens of Canasian cannoneers were the first to be felled by the Auerans' counterattack.

By the time the second batch of soldiers began to shoot back at the enemy on the walls, the artillery had been readied. The sharp tone of a brass whistle could be heard from the rear before the mortar rounds shot out from the trenches and rained down in the enemy camps.

This time around, it played out completely differently from the attack on the western encampment. The mortars exploded and some of them set off gunpowder explosions. After a series of ground-shaking booms, most of the walls collapsed. One of many enemy cannons mangled from the explosion was sent flying into the air before landing on the ground some 40 metres away.

Another sharp whistle could be heard. Tents of soldiers charged forwards with their ladders and laid them over the moat in front of the walls and easily crossed it to climb up to the top to begin shooting at any enemy that still moved.

When the walls were swarmed with Thundercrash troops, the enemy's loss was set in stone.

Claude checked the time; it took three and a half hours in total. They saved quite a lot of time, but used even more mortar rounds than the previous attack. Almost every single group used up all eight of their rounds. When they made their second approach, they were supplied with another five to six rounds from the rear. When Thundercrash set out, they had some three thousand mortar rounds, but now, they had less than 800 remaining.

What he needed to consider now was whether he should take on the enemy reinforcements that were en route.

Chapter 377 - Battle Back and Forth

"Have Line 1301 make way for the enemy reinforcements. Let them pass, then seal their escape route. Set up trip ropes so they'll have no choice but to find another way out. I want the tribesmen to gather for a war council before the battle."

Claude decided to take on the reinforcements. He wanted to take care of the Canasian cavalry in one fell swoop.

It was a rare opportunity. The enemy had left Vebator's fortifications and gone deep into Balingana. While he wasn't certain why they had done so, it was not a chance to be allowed to pass by. He was confident he could wipe them off the map with Thundercrash. His only concern was what casualties he might sustain in the process.

The so-called discharged Canasian volunteers were actually members of standing corps. It was an open secret. Claude would happily admit they were a much tougher challenge than the Shiksan corps had been. Albator Plains was also the ideal terrain for light cavalry. Claude was not willing to suffer huge losses.

However, the enemy had come as reinforcements. Thundercrash could simply hold its camp and fight from there. It had the advantage in terrain, after all. They'd already wiped out four lines, no less than a folk of men. The enemy only had some 60 thousand. Take 24 thousand out and they were left with little more than 30 thousand. Their numbers weren't much more than the other four enhanced folks.

Thundercrash had won two victories by now. They had defeated four lines and conquered two camps. They had also only suffered a thousand casualties thus far. The troops' morale was at an all-time high. They also had superior arms. Put together, it made a substantial advantage.

The Canasian reinforcements arrived around nine that evening. When their vanguard discovered Thundercrash had occupied their camp, they stopped and withdrew some two kilometres. So they weren't greenhorns. They'd quickly figured there was a real risk of the camp being a trap.

The enemy formed lines on the horizon, thirty thousand men stretched along the border between earth and heaven like a picket fence. They were dead quiet, a resting beast straddling heaven and earth.

A clan advanced to just a kilometre, then held, observing the Aueran camp. They noticed the additional trenches separated by one-metre-tall walls. Fires dotted the space between them, burning cow dung which belched an odious acidic stench into the air.

The clan stayed put for some time, until their eyes watered and their ears burnt from the horrid smoke, then withdrew.

Claude shook his head in disappointment. He'd counted on his opponent not having a good, cautious head on his shoulders. But he had, and the wished night attack would not come.

"Let the men rest. They're not coming tonight," Claude ordered before heading back to his tent.

Claude hated traditional battles, traditional sieges even moreso. Muskets and scattershot were no longer enough of an advantage to ensure victory on their own, especially not against experienced Canasians. They'd learnt how to fight against superior Aueran arms, and had become quite adept at it, forcing melee after advantage-neutralising melee.

In a field battle Claude would have mitigated their charges by simply skirmishing and keeping clear of them. He was fighting a siege, however. He had to stand and fight, he couldn't just pack his bags and scarper off when the Canasians got too close. This was the worst position for him to be in. His range and accuracy advantage meant the least when the enemy could close and force him to fight blade-to-blade.

That said, Thundercrush was not your average unit. One of their specialties was siege warfare. They would kill far more enemies before they got close. Unfortunately, not enough to make the Cansians turn tail and run, and once they got in close, all their skill at arms meant next to nothing, it turned into nothing but numbers crunching.

Claude hated sieges. He could still win, but it would be a bitter one with all the men he'd have to sacrifice. He much preferred quick, decisive fights, preferably started at his leisure, when the enemy was off their guard.

He did not hold the initiative this time, however, and so he could only sit and wait to see what the enemy did. There were some seven thousand captives and lots of spoils in the base and he couldn't afford to give them up. He could only leave after slaughtering all the captives and torching the spoils, but it would be a huge waste. He also knew nobody would agree since the men's bonuses depended on the spoils. Running before a weak enemy was also damningly humiliating.

Everyone believed they would always be the final victors rather than the losers in battle. Claude had no choice but to go along with the flow and decided he would tough it out against the Canasians. He also knew that without going through a proper, tense battle, his men wouldn't be able to grow stronger on the battlefield. Even if it would cost him significant casualties, it would be worth it, as this battle could be the fire he needed to forge a spirited force!

Around eight in the morning the next day, the horn signals of an attack were blown in the Aueran and enemy camps. The Canasians' horn signal signalled mobilisation. One unit after another charged out of their encampment and formed neat, square formations around 1.5 kilometres away from the Aueran camp. Thundercrash's horn signal was blown to remind their soldiers to stay vigilant and prepare to defend against an attack.

Claude believed that the enemy had collected information about Thundercrash and believed they could estimate their strength. That was an obvious sign of a mistake on their part. They believed they actually stood a good chance because of their superior numbers. The enemy officer obviously believed that Thundercrash suffered huge casualties after taking two of their camps. Given his understanding of the four lines he commanded, he was almost certain that eliminating all of them would cost Thundercrash quite a lot as well.

When Thundercrash took the two Canasian camps, they had attacked from all four directions to make sure not a single enemy escaped. But the Canasian reinforcements chose to focus their attack on only one side, intending to crush the enemy's will to fight with their superior numbers. So, all their forces were neatly lined up in front of the camp.

That, however, only made it easier for the defending side. If the defences were really pierced from any side, the morale of the defenders would tank. Even if they could escape in the other three directions, they would have a hard time outrunning the enemy on the flat Albator Plains. The enemy corpsman was quite confident he could win this battle.

Each of the four cavalry lines spread out in a line formation. The centre of the line seemed much denser. Not long later, another horn signal was blown and each Canasian line sent out a clan of light cavalrymen from their flanks towards the campsite. This was a probing attack. They would use a smaller force to test the strength of enemy defences so that they could choose their approach for the latter part of the attack.

From a distance, there were a few trenches outside the camps Thundercrash occupied that stretched out as far as 200 metres. Last night, the enemy was worried the decreased visibility would make them fall prey for any potential traps the Auerans laid, so the corpsman refused his subordinates' suggestion to attack during the night and chose to attack the next day instead.

The enemy corpsman wanted to test how powerful Thundercrash's defences were with the four clans of men from each line, all the while testing out whether the trenches would pose to be an obstacle to his troops. From his vantage point, the trenches were crudely dug and any of the riders could easily let their mounts jump over the trenches.

But something that utterly shocked the corpsman occurred. In a few short minutes, the thousand cavalrymen on the probing attack reached the first trench, but they forcefully stopped their mounts the moment they were there. There were tens of men that didn't stop their war horses and let them make the jump. When they landed, they crashed into the ground before countless heads and guns poked out of the third trench. They fired their shots and the soldiers that stopped in the first trench were obliterated.

"Blow the horn! Have them retreat immediately!" the corpsman ordered with a stern look.

Of the near thousand men he had sent out, less than a clan returned. Those who managed to were the lucky ones. The officers soon came to understand why they stopped their horses. The enemy was far too sneaky. The first trench was only two metres wide and deep, making it quite easy for horses to jump over.

However, there was a trench only a foot deep directly ahead of the first trench which was only discovered once they were right on top of it. From far, it looked just like normal flat land. Any horse that landed there and tried to gallop would immediately stumble and fall.

The enemy troops who were lying in ambush in the third trench then popped out and shot at the troops that stopped before the first trench, causing them heavy losses. What agonised the corpsman even further was how he didn't manage to adequately test out the enemy's defences with his probing attack. It was all for nought.

What seemed at first to be simple trenches turned out to be carefully laid out, effective fortifications. According to the cavalrymen that managed to escape, it was specially created to counter them. The enemy wanted to render light cavalry useless.

"We can use grass-weave sacks filled with earth to fill the trenches up," a high-ranking officer suggested. It was a tactic mostly reserved for dealing with trench fortifications. As long as they could fill the parts of the trenches where their attack would be going through, they would be able to reach the enemy camps and engage them with their riding blades close up.

But the possibility for a high casualty count using that method was rather high. The enemy was no fool. They still hadn't revealed where they had hidden the cannons. In fact, they could use their cannons to deal with the parts of the trenches filled out by the bags. One could imagine the kind of sacrifice they would have to make to even reach the enemies at the camp.

The corpsman shook his head. "Let's return to camp first. We'll have a proper discussion on how we can deal with the enemy trenches."

This was inevitable. There was no way they could continue the battle that day. The soldiers that returned from the probe were rather crestfallen. The insidious trench arrangement in front of the camp had rendered cavalry useless. They couldn't continue charging blindly into the enemy to be target practice, could they?

But before they even began the discussion upon their return to camp, the lookouts reported that the enemy had their captives digging trenches once more at the rear of the camp The corpsman went to the frontlines with his subordinates and observed with his telescope. He found that the captives were indeed men on his side. The soldiers of Thundercrash were forcing them to maintain the moat. A rough estimation put the soldiers taken captive at around a thousand men. There was still an endless stream of captives coming out of the camp.

The soldiers of Thundercrash were really harsh. The slightest odd movement by the captives were grounds enough for the crack of the whip or a bump from the stock. The corpsman and his subordinates saw a number of their own men taken captive and being beaten to the ground, writhing about with blood all over them.

"General, we have to save them..." one officer angrily pleaded.

Save? That sounded easy. But how could it be done? The moment any large force was sent out, the enemy would've returned into the camp. Now, they weren't able to reach the enemy camp in the first place!

"I believe we can dig our own trenches and connect them to the enemy's. We can then have my men dismount and attack as infantry!" one of them suggested.

The corpsman's eyes shone. It was true that the enemy's defences were geared specifically against their cavalrymen. Light cavalry was only advantageous when evading enemy firing ranges and charging into enemy defence camps were necessary, which was an advantage they held over infantrymen. While infantry would suffer huge casualties given their limited mobility. they could use trenches to avoid enemy fire. It was indeed a rather good idea coming from the strategist.

Chapter 378 - Trade

The Canasian reinforcements' camp was set up some 2.5 kilometres away. However, the Cansian captives had been forced to dig some seven or eight trenches outside the Aueran camp, effectively expanding the defences far beyond the walls themselves. The first probing attack by the Canasian reinforcements had completely failed, ending with them losing some even to eight hundred men.

Even so, the Canasian officers weren't incompetent. After realising that their probing attack didn't work, they didn't push for another attack and wisely chose to retreat back to camp, managing to end the first bout prematurely. It appeared that the officers were rich with experience and talent. They wouldn't be as easily dealt with.

That was why when Claude saw trenches spreading out from the enemy camp towards his side, his lips curved into a smile. They had taken the bait and everything was going according to plan. Did they think he had his captives dig trenches for no reason? Getting the enemies to dig their own trenches was exactly what he was trying to achieve.

Digging trenches on the plains was quite an easy task. Within a short five days, four long trenches stretching a kilometre away were dug out. The enemy's trenches were encroaching upon his own. In the eyes of the Canasian officers, the enemy definitely hadn't seen that move coming. They had used cannons and muskets to fire back and dealt quite a number of casualties to the Canasian cavalrymen, but that wasn't a big deal for the reinforcements. They didn't really consider the death of the 180-odd people as a big deal.

However, the further their trenches were, the more Aueran fire they came under. Those were only trenches, after all. The tops weren't covered and the enemy had built higher firing platforms that allowed them to aim into the soldiers in the trenches.

Faced with such a situation, the officers of the Canasian corps came up with four out-of-the-box solutions. They decided to go far beyond just four trenches. Instead, they would dig 40, or maybe even a hundred trenches to spread the enemy's defences thin. As long as one trench could connect to the enemy's trenches, they could let their soldiers through to swarm the enemy camp and render their fortifications useless.

So, in the following ten days, the 700-metre stretch outside the enemy camp became a complicated maze. The Canasian reinforcements put in four lines of manpower, around 25 thousand soldiers in total, to dig the trenches, suffering two thousand casualties as a result. They eventually managed to engage the Auerans in the trench maze.

But when the two trench networks connected with each other, the Canasians suddenly noticed that they were at a disadvantage. Thundercrash had already constructed a platform some three metres in height with cannons and multi-coloured flags to help direct their forces around during the defence. One such platform or tower could be used to monitor the 100-metre vicinity around it. The accurate manoeuvres made the Canasians feel like they were engaging a far larger force than they actually were. They constantly felt like their numbers were constantly decreasing whereas their enemies' was always increasing.

Within three days of the trenches connecting, the four Canasian combat lines found that their casualties had piled up quite significantly. They were losing men at a rate of a tribe a day. While the enemy did have casualties too, they suffered only a third or quarter of what the Canasians did. In other words, if the four Canasian lines were to be wiped out on the battlefield, the Auerans would only lose a line of men.

The realisation of that caused the Canasian officers to put a stop to the attacks to restrategise. According to the soldiers who managed to return from the critical zones of conflict, the enemy was exceedingly cunning. They would often use a small force to bait the Cansians into chasing them only to bring them to an area covered by cannon fire. They would fire scatter shot from a raised wooden platform to completely eliminate the pursuing cavalrymen before launching their counterattack to retake lost territory.

Not only that, Thundercrash's troops would always have a light-infantry cannon positioned at the end of each trench. The moment the Canasians entered the trench, the sudden round that was fired couldn't be avoided in time and the whole trench of men would be killed at once.

The Canasians always felt like they were duped by the enemy and gave up on attacking on horseback, something they were adept in. All their men seemed utterly clumsy when fighting the troops of Thundercrash. The enemy also led the now-turned Canasian infantrymen through their well-defended maze trenches and caused them to lose some six thousand men over the next four to five days.

By then, regret was far too late. There was already a labyrinth between the two camps and surprise attacks on horses would no longer be possible. The only edge they had was their riding scimitars, which had far better reach and were far more devastating by the Auerans' shortswords. According to ten-odd captured soldiers of Thundercrash, they had near seven thousand Canasians taken captive. They also found out that Thundercrash only had two not-fully-staffed combat lines and three battle-ready lines, with them having fewer than 16 thousand men in total.

The testimonies of the captured Auerans were the only things that stopped the Canasian officers from calling a retreat. Even after losing some six thousand men, they still have around 30 thousand troops. The commanders believed that as long as they continued fighting, victory would be theirs. They might even be able to destroy Thundercrash entirely.

After some more discussion, the Canasian officers decided to throw in even more men. Corps command would send a cannoneer line and two enhanced tribes into the attack. They were going to use their cannons to destroy the earthen platform towers Thundercrash built near their trenches while also counter firing on other cannons.

The plan seemed like the exact panacea they needed for their ailment. In three days, they managed to destroy most of the tower platforms and swiftly conquered the two outermost trenches of the Aueran camp. They were now only some hundred metres away from the actual camp site. While they suffered heavy casualties, Thundercrash didn't fare all that better. The ratio of Canasians lost to Auerans was closing in from two-to-one to one-to-one.

No matter how fierce Thundercrash's resistance, the Canasian officers thought them to be nothing more than their final death struggle. With the extermination of Thundercrash within sight, they decided to throw in two more keeper tribes into the attack in hopes of conquering the enemy camp and stamping out Thundercrash once and for all.

"The enemy only put four combat lines into it initially. They later added one cannoneer line and two enhanced tribes, before they threw in two more keeper tribes. I suspect the enemy invested nearly all their men into the attack. Our plan has taken shape. We will only need to hold on for two more days before retreating from this camp and handing it to the enemy. I'm sure they'd be really surprised."

Claude tapped on the enemy camp on the map. "According to our hidden scouts, they only have some three thousand men in the camp now. Apart from a heavy logistics tribe, the rest are mostly attendants and stable boys. The enemy had used their two keeper tribes to let their horses onto the plains to graze, but now that the tribes are thrown into the fray as well, nobody is taking the horses to graze. They are severely lacking in manpower.

"Berklin's Line 1301 managed to keep low and sneak to the side of the enemy camp. They are only waiting for our signal to attack. Major Myjack, you will be taking the lead for this operation. Remember, the first thing we have to do will be taking the enemy's war horses. Next comes their food and only after that will we conquer their camp. If the enemy's counterattack is too strong, you can give up on taking the camp and burn all their food. Regardless, you must bring those 40 thousand war horses back, understood?"

"Yes. Please be assured, General. Strike Tribe 131 will definitely complete the mission and return with the horses," Myjack replied with a stiff salute.

Claude nodded. "Set out at ten tonight and bring the remaining mortars there. It will be a great help for occupying the tent.

Stunned, Myjack asked, "General, what about your side?"

"We'll be fine here. We can defend against enemy attack even without using mortars, so don't worry.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Dyavid, after Strike Tribe 131 leaves, escort the seven thousand captives with your Line 1303 and our folk logistics unit away from this camp. Head to our rendezvous point before we settle on our next destination. If the captives don't cooperate, deal with them on the spot," Claude ordered.

"Yes, Sir. Thundercrash Line 1301 will move per your orders."

"Colonel Siegfeld, how are preparations going for logistics' departure?"

"General, the preparations are ready. All supplies to be taken away have been loaded onto the carriages. We've triple checked to ensure we missed nothing out."

Claude nodded with satisfaction. "Then, I wish you a smooth trip. Lieutenant-Colonel Moriad, I will leave the trench defences to you in the next two days. I will provide supporting fire with cannons from the camp walls. Are you confident you can hold on for two days?"

Moriad laughed out loud. "General, two days? We can last a whole week! While the Canasians are famed for their horses, they become crabs once they're dismounted. Apart from digging holes and their scimitar bladework, they didn't achieve much other than throw their lives at our cannons, even though it seems like they're closing in to us from 100 metres away."

It was quite the accurate depiction. The Canasians who launched the attack within the trench did seem like crabs. They often bared their upper bodies and rolled up their sleeves as they charged in suicidally with blades in both hands, only to be shot down by the accurate soldiers of Thundercrash or be turned into meat paste by their light-infantry cannons.

"Alright, I'm glad you're confident. Go prepare then." Claude smiled and let his officers leave his tent. When they were gone, he asked Anders to bring him Bloweyk.

Bloweyk was now a sergeant-major and served in Myjack's Strike Tribe 131 as a tentsman of a scout tent. His promotion had been quite fast thanks to his military talent and Claude and Myjack's care.

Bloweyk soon came to him.

He looked at his younger brother and felt a little nostalgic. The puffball so spoiled by his parents that they carried him up and down the stairs had now grown into a magnificent soldier.

He patted Bloweyk on the shoulder lightly. "What you need to do now is to sneak into the enemy camp beforehand and let the rest of our troops into it. It will be really dangerous, so you need to be extra careful."

Bloweyk humphed audibly and replied with an annoyed tone, "Alright, Claude, I know my limits. Don't worry. I'm not your normal soldier either. I'm also a magus, so I have my methods to deal with those soldiers. I'll be leaving now. My comrades are still waiting for me."

The attack on the enemy camp this time was set during the day rather than the night. So, they needed a tent of scouts that could disguise themselves as enemy scouts to infiltrate the enemy's rear and disable any alerts and lookouts they have there to allow Strike Tribe 131 and Line 1301 to enter the camp for a surprise attack. Bloweyk had scrambled to get the infiltration mission.

Two days later around three in the afternoon, the Canasian officers watched as their flag was plunged into the walls of the enemy camp, only for it to be struck down. One flag quickly took the former's place, only to be removed by the enemy. Even so, the Auerans' fates were sealed. The next flag to be plunged into the walls didn't fall. Soon, the other Canasians climbed up the walls and swung their war banners as they cheered.

They've won! The high-ranking officers cheered beside the corpsman, who was smiling with relief and congratulating his subordinates. He raised his leather whip and pointed it at the encampment a kilometre away. "Let's go take a look."

Nobody was against it. The guards led the few hundred mounted men across the flat land next to the trench network. They heard the cheers of soldiers along the way.

But when they were some four hundred metres away from the encampment, the corpsman heard some chatter coming from behind. It sounded like soldiers' cheers, so he didn't really find it weird. It was only after he noticed some officers of his pull in their horses' reins with a look of utter shock that he noticed something was wrong. Turning back, his face paled in an instant. On their camp was the flag of Aueras' Thundercrash folk. Their flag was being flown above their very own camp, the one they've spent a sickening month in.

Apart from a few of their flags, there were a bunch of soldiers rapidly dashing away some six hundred metres from the camp as they cast their weapons and armor off. It was obvious they were running away from the camp.

The corpsman felt faint and began to fall off his horse. Fortunately, his aide reacted quickly enough and helped him avoid the fate of cracking and bloodying his head on the hard ground.

It was a laughable victory. The moment the Canasians conquered the Aueran camp, the Auerans took the Canasian camp. Currently, most of the Canasian troops were busy flocking to the camp they just conquered for the celebration, so the high-ranking officers weren't able to form their ranks together to mount a counterattack on their own camp.

Chapter 379 - Third Victory

"We failed..."

The corpsman looked incredibly pale as if he had aged two decades in a single night. He was a geezer in his late seventies now.

"We've been had from the beginning. The enemy commander is a magnificent schemer. His defences robbed our cavalry of their strength. Then he had the captives dig trenches and draw our attention. We were baited into digging our own trenches. We dismounted to fight and fell into the trap.

"I understand only now that they were willing to invest so much manpower, even take so many casualties, to dig the trenches to give us the false impression that we could take their camp if we pushed hard enough. It made us pour our forces into the trenches and neglect our defence, which created a chance for them to launch a surprise attack. Their setup was perfect. We didn't even see it coming at all and instead thought they had all their forces defending the camp.

"Even though we took their camp, isn't it laughable that we lost most of our forces with it? Our troops were brave and our command was decent. Yet, the enemy had anticipated all of it. They gave up on their camp, not before sweeping it clean and left nothing but the tents. Yet just as our troops were cheering our victory, they struck our main camp and took all our supplies.

"Let's surrender! Our supplies have run dry. The brave soldiers that are unwilling to be taken captive have already died in the trenches. Yet, they didn't manage to achieve their goal. The children that remain have starved for a day and a night after our supplies were taken and we've run out of ammunition for our muskets and cannons. Send someone to negotiate for our surrender. As long as we can survive, we'll still have hope of making it back home after years of labour. Surviving is better than any other fate. It was my incompetence that led us to this point... It was all my fault..."

The corpsman gave his dejected officers one last look before turning around and getting down the walls. The whole camp was immersed in an atmosphere of defeat and despair. The injured were bandaged up temporarily in the corner, but cries of hurt and pain could still be heard throughout the whole camp. They could do naught but pray for the war god's protection for they had no medicine with which to treat their wounds.

Some ten minutes later, a soft gunshot resounded across the camp. The corpsman's orderman dashed up to the walls in terror and told the officers there the bad news. After returning to his tent, the corpsman had stuck his favourite ivory short-barrelled musket in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

The officers breathed a sigh of relief. They already had an idea back then on what was going to happen, but nobody bothered to convince the corpsman to stop. His suicide made him the perfect scapegoat on which to blame the loss of the entire corps. That way, they could surrender with the reason being their commander's suicide instead of cowardly surrendering for fear of their lives.

On the 23rd of the 8th month of Year 589, the field marshal of the Aueran colonies, Major-General and Baron Claude Han Ferd led Thundercrash folk through three successive and victorious battles, wiping out all 62 thousand discharged Canasian soldiers under the employ of Shiks. The three thousand plus servants weren't included in the troop count.

This series of battles came to be chronicled thusly: Claude revealed his military genius in the Wild Bull Conflict and proved Lord Militant Miselk's decision to make him field marshal right.

During the initial stages of the conflict, Claude used forceful shock tactics and managed to conquer the two Canasian bull-hunting camp outposts while incurring few casualties with Thundercrash. The total enemy soldiers killed or captured was 24 thousand.

The Canasian reinforcements arrived right after and trapped Thundercrush in the eastern base with their spoils and seven thousand captives. The reinforcements had more men -- some 37 thousand against just 22 thousand.

General Claude then commanded his folk to set up a trench-defence network around the camp to counter the Canasian cavalry, forcing them to dismount and fight. He then sent even more captives to continue digging trenches and baited the Canasians into doing the same.

In the next two weeks, he continued to send a large number of men to fight in the trenches and intentionally took relatively heavy casualties by fighting desperately to make the enemy commander think that Thundercrash was on the brink of collapse. To win and exterminate Thundercrash entirely, the Canasian corps poured nearly all their forces into the fight at the trenches. They slowly gained ground towards the Aueran camp and believed their victory was close.

Yet, when the commander decided to commit all the Canasian troops into the battle, he let his guard down and neglected his own camp's defence. Claude had long prepared for that moment and ordered Line 1301, which had been hidden elsewhere, to join their elite force, Strike Tribe 131, on an attack on the enemy camp. He himself remained in the camp and continued to fight the defensive battle to buy time for the evacuation of the folk's injured, supplies and captives.

Two days later, he immediately retreated with the injured and the corpses of the sacrificed, leaving the campsite he defended for most of the month. As the Canasian troops who finally successfully got over the camp's walls cheered for their bloody victory, Thundercrash sent out a small tent of men disguised as Canasian scouts to infiltrate the enemy camp and easily took care of those who were left behind to guard it. They opened the camp gates and let in the rest of their own.

The remaining Canasian troops in the camp further away were unaware that one of their own camps had been taken. When Thundercrash attacked them, they were caught completely off guard and couldn't mount any effective resistance at all. Their main camp was easily taken. All their food, ammunition and war horses had fallen into Thundercrash's hands.

Losing the main camp instantly turned the Canasian victory into a huge joke. The camp they conquered had nothing but empty tents. There wasn't a single thing that could be useful for their situation. Thundercrash had made sure to clean the place up before leaving. Not even a broken bottle could be spotted.

When the Canasians prepared to retake their tent the next day, they didn't even get to eat a meal of horse meat and soup. All they could make for themselves was horse meat roasted over burning cow dung and a few mouthfuls of groundwater, only to collapse outside the camp.

The most eye-catching part of the battle was the time during Claude's retreat and the conquest of the enemy camp during three in the afternoon. To the attackers who fought for a good part of the day, the enemy had fled and let them conquer their camp. They had finally won and wanted to drop everything and celebrate on the spot, so they swarmed in the camp to make merry.

But after all that cheering, they were greatly worn out and the news of the enemy taking their main camp came as a heavy mental blow. Their morale tanked immediately. Even if the commanders had wanted to order a counterattack immediately, not many soldiers would be able to withstand it. What they needed was good rest to recover from fatigue.

However, the food and ammunition in Thundercrash's camp were all gone. While the well of the camp wasn't polluted and the wooden bucket they used was still there, there wasn't a single wok or bottle in the area. All they could do was drink some cold water before going to sleep.

Having avoided the enemy's immediate attack, Thundercrash was able to fortify the camp through the night. They sorted the base out and removed all hazards. Following the arrival of the rest of the folk, the defences of the camp were further strengthened. The scales tipped completely in Thundercrash's favour.

The next morning, the Canasian officers who hoped that they would be able to retake their camp with a small number of forces slaughtered more than a hundred of their war horses and gathered three thousand of their most elite soldiers and officers. They divided the horse meat among them before they heated them up for a bit and put them into their stomachs. That was all they did before marching back for their camp, but not a single man was able to attack the camp when they were near as all of them collapsed in front of it.

The horrible loss marked the end of the Wild Bull Conflict. The Canasians' complete elimination was now set in stone. Apart from lacking food, most of their ammunition had been kept in the camp they lost. Most soldiers' muskets could only fire a round or two at most. While they had water, they lacked food. All the bull they hunted had been sent away half a month ago. On the barren, muddy plains, not a single blade of grass could be seen.

The worst part of it all was they had to walk on foot as they lost all the horses they kept in the camp. Thundercrash, on the other hand, changed from their infantry loadout to the cavalry loadout. They could watch the Canasians from afar and wait until they starved to death.

Due to the suicide of the Canasian corpsman, the remaining officers and 26 thousand soldiers surrendered to Thundercrash. The battles saw 17 thousand casualties, six thousand among whom died in battle and more than ten thousand injured to varying degrees. Thundercrash suffered eight thousand casualties, with three thousand dead and the rest injured. Thundercrash lost one man for every two they took.

For Claude, Thundercrash had suffered a considerable blow. While they were the strongest enhanced folk with 32 thousand men at full force, the combat personnel only included the six tribes of 30 thousand men. The other two thousand plus were support units with no combat ability. Thundercrash lost nearly ten thousand men at the point they forced the enemy to surrender, which was a third of their forces.

However, they did gain quite a lot from this. Ammunition and food aside, the 50 thousand war horses alone was an enviable haul. They could sell for more than 200 thousand crowns immediately. It could also satisfy the demand for beasts of burden in the war theatre.

Throughout the battles, he also learned the inadequacies of his current unit. Thundercrash paled in comparison to Ranger. It was a given, since Ranger was formed from the most elite troops that partook in the five-year war.

While the current Thundercrash had Line 131 as its backbone, the troops that joined later were mostly discharged soldiers or colonial settlers of suitable age. They only got half a year of training and performed far worse than the troops of Ranger.

If he were to make a proper comparison, he'd consider Thundercrash folk in its current state to be only as strong as the four standing corps of Aueras, maybe even slightly weaker than the royal guard corps. That was the reason the casualties were so high and it felt like there was never enough men on the defence.

He was considering whether he should form another folk in the war theatre to make a second Thundercrash folk. When Miselk drafted the plans for the five enhanced folks, they only planned for the equipment and weapons from Ranger. There were only enough war horses for a folk, so that folk was assigned to Claude as a combat folk to become Thundercrash.

1st and 2nd Monolith folks were formed as insurance by Miselk to keep Shiks at bay. The 1st and 2nd Reserve folks played the role as their names suggested, but they were later called 3rd and 4th Monolith as 'reserve' didn't sound particularly good. The name change didn't change the fact that they were only mostly there for moral support.

Now, Claude obtained the 50 thousand Canasian war and workhorses. He could form a second Thundercrash to make up for what his limited number of men could do. However, he would have to first discuss this with the other four folksmen to see which folk would be the most suitable for that role.

At that moment, Myjack came in with an eagle message. "General, Major Anders has returned with five thousand mortar rounds. 3rd Monolith also came with him."

"3rd Monolith? General Eiblont? What's he here for?"

"The message stated that the general came here with his men for a long-distance training excursion."

"Excursion my ass. That fellow's here to see if there's any opportunities to take advantage of. He's probably too bored in the rear and wants some merit."

Myjack laughed. "General, it's great news that he came. We can hand the captives over to them before heading to Cromwell. The high-ranking Canasian officers did say Nasri's 'voluntary' corps just arrived in Wickhamsburg and are trying to set up a supply base there, didn't they?"

Chapter 380 - General Eiblont

"Why did you come all the way here?" Claude asked linesman of 3rd Monolith, Major-General Eiblont, with a smile. He had the orderman outside get a basin of water for the general.

Eiblont seemed frustrated.

"I came here as fast as I could because I heard you had encountered the Canasian reinforcements and were outmatched. I came to help and reap some benefits. I didn't think you'd defeat them in just 20 days... You move too fast."

Claude shook his head.

"Eiblont, I appreciate your goodwill, but you have to consider your men. Thundercrash travels on four legs, 3rd Monolith on two. If things go south, we can just pull out, you'd be stuck."

Claude knew Eiblont had come with good intentions. Useless teammates usually just sat on the sidelines and watched you fall rather than jump in to save you.

But, as field marshal, he couldn't approve of the man's recklessness. The issue was mounts. After Miselk's scorched earth, Balingana had not a single intact hovel. It was very risky to move an infantry unit into such terrain, even worse when they knew little more than nothing about their enemy's disposition.

If the Canasians hadn't fallen into his trap, they would've discovered Eiblont's unit soon after they set foot on Albator Plains. Claude didn't doubt that, given their leader's cautious nature, they would have split off a force to deal with 3rd Monolith. As Claude had mentioned, 3rd Monolith was a bipedal unit. They couldn't outpace the Canasians so they would have stood no chance of getting away and would have been wiped out.

Cavalry was at its strongest on the flat open stretches of the plains. Large Infantry formations might be able to hold out for a while, but they stood no chance against cavalry in these places unless they had considerably greater numbers.

Eiblont immediately caught his drift and shook his head as he wiped his face with a wet towel.

"I did consider that. I'd hoped you had failed to defeat them and would ask for my help once I arrived. I've been itching to test the cart formation. Training and actual combat are worlds apart, so it's always good to test something out in the real world.

Claude smiled once he realised what the general had been intending to do in a confrontation. Claude had come up with the cart formation. He and a couple other officers had been running simulations about half a year earlier and the setting had been the Canasian plains. He'd been put in charge of Bluefeather and Bolonik, one of the other officers, commanded the Canasians. Everyone had expected the fight to end with Claude's complete and utter defeat.

Claude, instead, took inspiration from the wagonforts used most famously by the frontiersmen of Southern Africa and North America in the 17th and 18th centuries on Earth and built makeshift walls by linking carts and carriages together, leaving gaps only wide enough for a cannon muzzle to shove through and fire. Claude had lost, but just barely, thanks to Bolonik's cautious initial assault. Because the latter had held back most of his men, he had enough reserves to counter the tactic once it was revealed.

Everyone who'd witnessed the fight had quite enthusiastically made the tactic part of their repertoire. Claude had also been quick to introduce them to the slanted carriage. They were easy to construct and link together to make various fortifications. He'd not expected Eiblont to prepare the necessary materials and train his men enough to use the tactic so quickly, though the man had not been quick enough on his response and had missed the battle.

"Where did you get all the workhorses for the carriages? We lack horses the most right now."

The major-general grimaced.

"Don't bring that up, please... I begged everyone I could get to lend me an ear. I threw away all my dignity to borrow some horses. In the end, Sevict and Bolonik lent me enough. I have two thousand with me at the moment, just enough to put one on each carriage. That's enough to move them on fine terrain, but if they get stuck or we pass through a rough patch the men have to jump in and help push or pull the carts and carriages. It's been slow going the whole way."

Claude let slip several short laughs.

"Alright, fret not. The Canasians are all dead. We've enough war and workhorses to replace the ones you've borrowed. I'll send workhorses to the market to satisfy the demand. You can switch your workhorses out for war horses. I'm sure two of them pulling one carriage will greatly increase your speed."

"Oh, right! How could I have forgotten that? No... I have to get them to switch them out quick to test the speed out."

Eiblont left without waiting at all. Having no choice, Claude got Anders to tag along with him and solve any problems that might arise so as to prevent any accidents. The spoils were Thundercrash's, after all, so Eiblont was likely to run into trouble to ask for the horses without his permission.

But soon, the general returned. Claude was approving some of his folk's documentation, inspecting the ways issues were dealt with and checking the accounts of logistics. Those documents could only be archived after he signed them. As long as he wasn't satisfied with certain matters' settlement, he would have to write down how he thought it should be done and let the corresponding department implement it according to his new plan.

Eiblont knew the procedures well. He was a folksman himself, so he merely sat there quietly and tasted the red tea. Claude went through the documents rather quickly. Most of the matters were dealt with in a satisfactory manner. He easily signed his name and stamped his folksman's seal to close the cases. The last thing he had to do was account inspection, which would take a little longer.

It was only after he finished dealing with it that he noticed Eiblont sitting there blankly, seemingly thinking about something. After checking the time, Claude pulled on the bell-rope and summoned Anders from outside the tent. He asked him to go to the cafeteria to get them some food. He would be hosting Eiblont in his tent.

Eiblont had snapped out of his daze and wasn't opposed to sitting in for the meal. When Claude asked him what he was daydreaming about, he said he was recalling the formation of the colonial corps a couple of years ago.

Claude didn't have a good understanding about them and only knew that Miselk appointed Eiblont and Birkin to pick out the best men from the local colonial defence forces to form the colonial corps as reserve forces for Ranger.

However, both those corps had been disbanded, and their men absorbed into the five enhanced folks. Claude wondered if Eiblont had anything to share. Perhaps he had been invited by certain powerful figures and managed to spend some good times with beautiful ladies.

Eiblont merely grimaced and said that it was just an exaggeration. He didn't think his posting in the colonial corps would be so dangerous. He and Birkin had been targets of assassination a number of times. Birkin fared worse and was even hurt so bad during one attempt he had to spend half a year to recover. Nubissia seemed not too far off from the wild west where crimes and under-the-table dealings were allowed to proliferate in that manner, given how far it was from the Aueran mainland.

After that, Claude listened to a tirade of complaints from him. From a certain point of view, it wasn't too appropriate for the kingdom to directly administer the colonies. While military and administrative power was separated in the colonies, they often butt heads. As such, the local people of power could only stand neutral to protect their own interests. If either the viceroy or high-commissioner had a clear head on his shoulders, the colonies could still continue to develop. But if both of them didn't fulfil their responsibilities and only cared about lining their pockets, then the situation in the colonies would only worsen.

That was the reason for the attempts on Eiblont and Birkin's lives. The high-commissioner and viceroy didn't get along and split the colonial government into two opposing sides, effectively giving up on proper management, caring about nothing but collecting taxes. In the end, power fell to the hands of the local people in power, some of whom even treated the local garrison or keepers as their personal army.

Eiblont and Birkin's mission was to gather the local forces to form the colonial corps, but the powerful tycoons in the area took it as the kingdom intentionally trying to suppress them by taking their armies away. They conspired together and decided to show the kingdom's officials what they were made of and tried seducing them with beauties, money, and resorted to assassination when none of those worked.

He complained that he had to sleep with one eye open during the past two years to make sure nobody could snuff him out. Fortunately, he managed to survive that and things got better after the colonial corps was formed. He and Birkin weren't promoted to major-generals because they had been able to complete their mission of forming the corps. Rather, it was mainly due to their overhaul and stabilisation of local affairs and successful suppression of the ambitious local tycoons, which led to the kingdom firming its grasp over the area.

Claude now understood why his two less-heard-of seniors were also promoted to major-generals. Had Eiblont not told him about it, he would've been under the impression that the two seniors had opened some unorthodox doors to be made one of the five folksmen of the enhanced folks.

Food was served and he invited Eiblont to take a seat. After their meal, the orderman poured the two generals wine. Claude had him leave before asking whether using two war horses actually increased the speed by much.

Eiblont said that he didn't use war horses, since there wasn't a need. The whole reason the slanted carriages were employed was to defeat the Canasian light cavalry. Now that they had been exterminated by Claude, there was no longer a need for those carriages. They would simply be distributed to the various folks' logistics departments. Apart from using them as cover against small groups of enemies, there wouldn't be much use for them.

As such, he turned his attention to the war horses themselves. He hoped that Claude, as field marshal, could assign his folk some of them to make a second Thundercrash. That way, they could play an offensive role instead of just sitting around in reserve for 1st and 2nd Monolith.

This, however, just happened to be in line with Claude's own plans. He stated plainly that he already had plans to form 2nd Thundercrash, but he wanted to first check which units of the war theatre were suited to be part of it since this was a crucial endeavour. They would be following his commands to suppress the enemies, after all.

Eiblont was overjoyed and said there was no need to discuss it any longer. He was set on making his own unit 2nd Thundercrash. The reason for that was simple, Bolonik, Sevict and even Birkin were more adept at defence. In terms of offensive manoeuvres, he was second to Claude. He wasn't boasting and this was in fact proven from the sandtable simulations they ran. It could be said that Eiblont was the one who learned and adopted Claude's tactics the fastest.

Seeing him considering the matter, he decided to strike while the iron's hot. He said that after so many simulated battles with Claude, while he did lose often, he did come to understand his tactics somewhat. He could definitely work well in tandem with him on the battlefield and promised he would not go about things on his own and would make sure to obey his command. There was no question that 3rd Monolith was the perfect candidate to become 2nd Thundercrash.

Additionally, 1st and 2nd Monolith were tasked with defending Claude Defence Line and Dorinibla River. The two seniors that commanded those folks were also more conservative and defensive, so giving them war horses would be pointless anyway.

As for Birkin's 4th Monolith, they only had ten thousand men so far. They could barely even be called a proper folk. The last batch of 20 thousand households had yet to be sent over from the kingdom, so 4th Monolith remained a husk. There was no way they could be transformed into 2nd Thundercrash.

As such, he believed his 3rd Monolith was perfect for that role. Claude, as field marshal, could immediately order for the reorganisation of the folk on the spot, with his folk already there, without having to first send the war horses back to the war theatre first.

Claude laughed and said, "Well, I'll give you a chance. Have two of your lines send the captives and workhorses back to Robisto and change the rest of the men into light cavalry. Then, follow Thundercrash to Cromwell.

"I heard Nasri's voluntary combat corps have been felling trees en masse in Wickhamsburg to construct a supply base. I want to get rid of this problem at its root. If your folk performs well in this battle, I suppose I could let it become 2nd Thundercrash."

Chapter 381 - Conquest of Wickhamsburg

"We were too late," Eiblont said as he put the telescope down, "If we had arrived a month earlier, the walls would still be unrepaired. We might've been able to exploit a weakness and taken the base. It'll be very difficult to deal with it now, even more so with them holding the high ground."

Claude didn't make a sound. He knew Eiblont was saving him face by understating the predicament. In truth, the endeavour was going to be a bloodbath. He had thought the Nasrians were merely fortifying Wickhamsburg according to the captives' testimonies. He didn't think they would actually be expanding the whole castle. They had even managed to complete their outermost wall.

Wickhamsburg used to be the capital city of the colony of Cromwell. It was built upon high ground. During the first conflict with Shiks, there was only one local garrison line defending the place. Yet, they managed to hold their ground against a standing Shiksan corps for half a year. They only lost the castle after the Shiksans got two heavy-siege cannons to demolish the walls.

The second time Wickhamsburg was conquered was due to Miselk's efforts. During the first colonial conflict, the Shiksans lost two of their standing corps at the frontlines and Miselk pushed on with Ranger. At the time, the walls demolished by the heavy-siege cannons hadn't been rebuilt and the incomplete local force the Shiksans stationed to defend the place had no choice but to surrender to Ranger.

When Shiks sent five more standing corps to Nubissia as reinforcements, Miselk decided to use the scorched-earth tactic in Cromwell and Balingana. All the inhabitants of Wickhamsburg were evacuated, leaving behind the empty castle and the nikancha that lived nearby.

Then, the second colonial conflict began. The Shiksan forces easily took control of Wickhamsburg and slaughtered the nikancha living in the city and began work on making it their supply base. However, Claude managed to retake the city with Line 131 through the secret passage Miselk ordered to be dug. The burning of the ammunition and supply warehouses made the remaining supply-drained Shiksan forces surrender, allowing the Auerans to once more emerge the victor in the colonial war.

However, Shiks wasn't going to end the war. They announced that they would form ten more standing corps and hired the discharged soldiers from Nasri and Canas as mercenaries to stabilise their perilous position in Nubissia.

During the former half of the year, Shiks sent two fully formed standing corps to their colony of Vebator, only for them to cause a food crisis. As they scrambled to ship emergency rations there, they also cultivated thousands of acres of land in the colony for planting food. According to the high-ranking captives, the first potato harvest had just passed and the food shortage was somewhat relieved. That was why they began their campaign in Balingana and Cromwell.

The Nasrians had set their sights on the abandoned Wickhamsburg due to the prime terrain it was built on and decided to make it their supply base. Had the Canasians not went bull hunting, they would've remained in Cromwell and the colony would come under de facto Shiksan rule, with two corps defending it.

That was the reason Claude made up his mind to wipe out the Canasian corps. As the field marshal, he couldn't afford to leave any nail sticking out in where he planned to operate, especially not the Canasian and Nasrian forces that had gained a reputation for being magnificent defenders during the five-year war. If he allowed Wickhamsburg to remain in enemy hands, Cromwell would quickly become a colony of the enemy.

But just as Eiblont had said, they came a little too late. The enemy had finished fortifying the outer walls and set their camp up deep inside the city. Given the numerical disadvantage, mounting a frontal attack was far from a good idea. Thundercrash could very well be ramming their head into an iron wall and end up breaking their skull. Even if they paid a huge price in casualties, they wouldn't be able to conquer Wickhamsburg. The enemy might even get a chance to launch a counterattack.

He had wanted to see whether he could reuse his old tactic. Perhaps the secret path they dug was still accessible. Alas, the enemy had filled the moat up during the expansion of Wickhamsburg. Now, the entry to the secret path was located within the outer walls post expansion, much to his disappointment.

Eiblont had suggested that they encircle the city. Given Thundercrash's mobility, they could trap the enemy in Wickhamsburg until they ran out of resources.

However, nobody knew how long it would take for that tactic to have any effect. Nobody knew how much supplies the Nasrian forces really had. If it was only for a short three months, it was still feasible. But if they had enough supplies for a whole year, then it would be better for them to go back since attacking would be pointless and encircling them there for a whole year would only impact their morale negatively.

Claude refused Eiblont's suggestion since what he needed was time. He had to wipe out the Nasrian 'volunteers' as quickly as he could instead of continuing to waste time with the enemy. The longer this dragged on, the worse the situation in the war theatre would develop. Even though Thundercrash had mobility, the consumption of their horses was quite high. They couldn't just let the horses graze on the plains and needed to feed them with proper, nutrient-rich food.

So, he settled with attacking them straight on. He refused to believe the Nasrians would be able to hold their walls if he used his mortars. Eiblont didn't know that he had that ace up his sleeve and had tried to talk him out of it. Claude merely laughed and ignored his words. Instead, he immediately got Eiblont to get his men to scatter to prevent the enemy from escaping. He would also show him why he was confident he would be able to breach the completed wall's defences.

However, it didn't play out as he had planned. Surprisingly, the Nasrian troops didn't turtle up in the city like cowards. The moment they realised the soldiers of Thundercrash actually posed quite a threat to the defenders on the walls thanks to their accurate sniping, they immediately sent infantrymen out of the city to counterattack. The first batch of Thundercrash troops suffered rather huge casualties and was forced to retreat.

Claude's face was dark. The enemy had noticed there wasn't that huge a disparity between their numbers, hence why they were confident enough to send men out on a counterattack. To lob the mortar rounds over the walls and into the city, they had to be within seventy metres. But currently, his men weren't even able to get 100 metres within range.

He had no choice but to learn from the Canasians he took out and begin digging trenches towards the city walls from 800 metres away to decrease the casualties he would suffer from the sentry cannons on the walls since the enemy had more than enough ammunition and the cannons would fire round shots at any spot where three or more people congregated. The closest they could begin digging was outside that range.

In eight days, they managed to dig three trenches and close in till there were only 200 metres left to the city walls. During that time, Wickhamsburg sent out quite a number of strike forces to fight the Auerans and caused them a few hundred casualties. Coupled with the casualties suffered during the digging of the trenches themselves, they had lost around 400 men.

Yet, that in itself incurred the rage of the soldiers of Thundercrash. Every one of them knew that they still had the mortar at their disposal, so they didn't give up hope. Instead, their fighting spirit burned even brighter and they begged to be sent on the field day in and out to continue digging the trenches. They want to reach the walls within one single night and lob those mortars at their hateful enemies.

By then, Claude was already aware of how troublesome the Nasrian corps was. He changed his plan and made up his mind to fight another tough battle in Wickhamsburg. He wasn't counting on using mortars alone to take the enemy out. He recalled a famous saying he read in his past life. Weapons weren't the crucial deciding factor of war; people were.

He could tell that the Nasrians' morale was soaring given how often they sent out men to fight. They had full confidence that they could keep the city defended. If he didn't keep the enemy encircled and chip away at their morale, even if he did manage to catch them off guard with the mortars, they would still fight Thundercrash to the death. The desperate resistance they put up might seal Thundercrash's defeat in stone. After all, mortars weren't weapons of mass destruction. They were merely a variant of grenades and didn't deal much raw damage.

When the tunnel was within 150 metres of the walls, Claude ordered them to dig sideways to make it a trench and prepare to repel the enemies that come out of the city. They would dig another trench at the 120-metre mark and slowly make their advance in that fashion.

Eiblont watched the battle play out curiously. He didn't know what Claude was planning. The two folks only set out with enough supplies for two months. At that rate, they would run out before they could reconquer Wickhamsburg.

Claude laughed and told him that he would show his hand a few days later. In the coming days, the troops finally dug one trench within a hundred metres of the walls. They could use their muskets to fight back against enemy cannons. The enemy would also no longer be able to leave the city to attack their camp during the night.

To prevent a surprise attack from Thundercrash at night, the Nasrians had no choice but to send large numbers of troops to defend the walls and throw torches off it from time to time and use their flames to see whether an enemy unit was approaching them.

However, Claude wasn't planning to have his men get that close in the first place. He only needed them to be within 70 metres of the walls to launch their mortars inside. Soon, nonstop explosions could be heard and chunks of enemy body parts could be seen flying all over the place.

Ten volleys, a thousand mortar rounds in total, were fired. The part of the walls that came under Thundercrash's attack had been obliterated. The enemies suffered extensive casualties. While they sent out a few reinforcement units, they didn't dare to go up the walls after seeing the first two batches blown away after their attempts. Even after the bombardment stopped for more than ten minutes, they remained frozen at a safe distance. They only sent a small number of soldiers to peek over the walls.

The ten-minute pause was there because Claude ordered his men to close in by fifteen metres before lobbing another five volleys into the city. The first volley of around a hundred mortars dealt a ridiculous number of casualties to the enemy's reinforcements waiting at the distance they thought was safe. The rounds landed in the midst of the crowds and went off. Those who were fortunate enough to end up uninjured ran without even caring about their injured or fallen comrades.

By then, the attackers from the rear crossed the moat of the city and began to climb up the walls with their siege ladders. While there were tens of Nasrian guards there, they were completely outnumbered and either ran immediately or died.

Soon, the side of the walls that came under attack was conquered. The troops then continued to fight along the walls as they opened the main gate to let the rest of the forces in. With the muskets covering their advance, the four walls were soon taken and the Nasrian forces ended up being trapped in the middle of the desolate city.

After taking all four walls, Claude stopped the attack and ordered them to wait until daylight. That would help prevent any accidental casualties. However, he realised that the Nasrians were still itching for a fight and stubbornly refused to go down. They had been setting up fortifications in the plot of land and gathering their cannons to bombard the walls from inside. They were trying to open a hole in them to make an escape route.

It was too bad the walls they made were too well built. The tens of cannons blasted nonstop and only managed to dirty the walls. Seeing that the enemy had yet to surrender, Claude ordered his men to turn the cannons on the walls around to fire towards the abandoned ground on which the Nasrians stood to draw their firepower. He also ordered Myjack and Strike Tribe 131 to take the enemy camp with Eiblont by aiding him with their mortars.

The clash inside the city dragged on for three days and two nights. Having lost most of their ground, the remaining 43 thousand Nasrian soldiers and officers dropped their weapons and surrendered.

The whole battle lasted 22 days in total. The Nasrians suffered around half their number as casualties, 17 thousand among them dead from battle. However, Claude and Eiblont's folks didn't fare much better. Being the main force to dig trenches and attack the walls, Thundercrash lost around four thousand men.

Most of 3rd Monolith's losses occurred during the final three days inside the city. As he was unfamiliar with the urban landscape, Eiblont lost around six thousand men during his attack on the central enemy camp. He almost lost a whole line of troops.

Chapter 382 - Strike

"Can we go back now?" Eiblont asked as he excitedly entered Claude's tent.

While he hadn't made it in time to join the battle, 3rd Monolith still played a role in Wickhamsburg's conquest. Claude could finally change his unit to 2nd Thundercrash, so he had been in a fantastic mood. All he wanted to do now was send the captives back and boast in front of all his friends and colleagues.

Claude shook his head.

"No, maybe in another fortnight."

Eiblont stopped in his tracks.

"A fortnight? Have you not dealt with everything here yet? Why the delay?"

It had been ten days since they'd taken the city, and the audits had been completed. There was nothing else for them to do there.

Claude handed him a folder.

"Look at that."

Eiblont took the file and flipped through it. It contained the transcripts of hundreds of Nasrian officers' testimonies. He briefly inspected several, but couldn't find anything odd.

"Claude, is there anything noteworthy about these testimonies?"

"Haha, noteworthy? Maybe not, but look at Page 14," he said.

"Page 14?"

Eiblont paged to it in a hurry to read it, only to be disappointed. The captive officer had only spoken about daily life in his unit. He discussed how they often brawled or argued with the Shiksans over insignificant things. They did not have much regard for Shiksan combat prowess either.

"Page 21," Claude said.

Another testimony. This time he was a Shiksan instructor. His comments were quite divergent from the previous individual's. He considered Shiksans to be excellent soldier stock. In his own words, 'they just lack proper experience... if they weren't all green as spring grass, they'd be a force with which to reckon!'

He even demonstrated a hint of fondness for their young junior officers. He thought them brave, though brash in their youth. Significantly, he lauded their willingness to be sacrifices on the altar of their kingdom's prosperity. Despite his fondness for them, however, he could not stop himself from a rather scathing objective review of their command skills. They were largely incompetent, rigid to the bone, and stuck in the barbed wire of their bureaucratic and aristocratic hierarchies.

The Shiksans overall, in this officer's opinion, had first-rate soldiers in the making, second-rate junior staff, and third-rate senior leadership. If they didn't accept radical reforms, and soon, they would be mud giants for the rest of the war, and probably lose it, too.

"Mud giants? Hahaha!-" Eiblont bent over and clutches his stomach, his back and shoulders shaking quietly as he fought to regain control of himself and preserve some of his dignity. "--It's the first time I've heard a description like that. Though, given Shiks' performance in their previous wars, I can't argue with it."

"Haha! I am in accord. It couldn't be more appropriate. Did you notice anything else from the testimonies?"

Eiblont's expression stiffened.

"You're trying to target these two corps..."

"Yes. Now, look at Page 28. You'll understand why the Nasrians chose to set up their supply base in Wickhamsburg."

Eiblont flipped to the page. On it was the testimony of the chief logistics supervisor of the Nasrian corps. In it, the volunteer Nasrians and Canasians' struggles and conflicts of interests with the officers of the two new Shiksan corps were detailed. Among them included how the two non-Shiksan corps were forced to enter Cromwell. That was the main reasons the Nasrians took Wickhamsburg to be their supply base.

Ever since their loss in the second colonial war, Shiks hired the Canasian and Nasrian corps to form their respective voluntary corps to stabilise the situation in Vebator. It was quite the witty move. It caused the eager Ranger to give up on taking that prefecture for itself. Apart from that, Shiks got to keep a fine port on Nubissia.

Similarly, the extermination of the five standing corps caused Shiks' reputation as a superpower to dwindle. Having enjoyed peace for the past 40 years, they were no longer feared for their military might. So, Shiks had no choice but to hire Nasrian and Canasian officers who participated in the five-year war as instructors for the ten standing corps they were about to form. They would then recoup their reputation in the third colonial war.

However, the officers who went to Shiks to help train their army gradually noticed they were treated rather oddly. The low-ranking officers greatly welcomed their new tactics and classes as they were usually focused on raising the survival rate on the battlefield and everyone paid stern attention. But the high-ranking officers and commanders were sceptical and often doubted their tactics, always having something to say about them. Quite a number of them criticised the tactics for being too cowardly and lacking in the warrior spirit. They would rather have their men die than let them shrivel in the trenches like moles.

In the end, their instructor assignment ended after the two new standing corps were formed. They were then transferred to Vebator to their respective voluntary corps. Eventually, jokes of the stupidity of the Shiksan warriors soon spread and the voluntary soldiers from the other two nations laughed and looked down on the combat prowess of the Shiksans. Not one of them had any high hopes for the new standing corps.

Initially, Vebator's defences were supposed to be taken care of by the Nasrian combat corps whereas the work of securing its border was given to the Canasians. With the two new standing corps there, however, they had to turn their attention to solving the food crisis. After it passed, the two Shiksan corps received orders to capture nikancha people near the coastal areas of the colony.

They sent a part of them to the mines as slave labourers and forced the other youths and elderly to farm potatoes outside Port Vebator. In a short half a year, the two standing corps had killed up to ten thousand nikancha through overwork or punishment.

For the Canasians and Nasrians, while they didn't see the nikancha that highly, they would never treat them that harshly as slaves. Some of them even loved going to the nikancha women to spend their extra energy.

But everything changed when the Shiksan corps arrived. The coastal nikancha settlements had been destroyed by them and many of them were captured. There was no regard for leaders or the elderly. Anybody with red skin was an unforgivable sinner and captured into slavery. The Shiksans also declared they would cleanse the colony of that race and make it a new haven for the white folk of Freia.

That was why the Shiksans were jointly mocked and regarded with contempt by the other two corps. No normal army would do something that unjust and damaging. They cursed the Shiksan slavers for sullying the honour of a proper military force. Only lowly keepers or garrison soldiers would do something of that calibre. They refused to acknowledge the Shiksans as proper soldiers.

As such, all sorts of conflicts arose in Port Vebator. Any time the troops from both sides encountered each other, a brawl would be soon to ensue, only for the Shiksans to not be able to match up to the far more experienced veterans of the voluntary corps. It didn't take long before they ended up trapped in their own camp. They weren't able to resist the provocations of the voluntary soldiers from outside their camp at all.

As it all got larger, the Shiksan officers found it hard to deescalate and decided to send the two voluntary corps to the frontlines. After all, they were the ones who paid the bills. Since the two corps weren't willing to be obedient, they were ordered to go to Cromwell and start conquering the neighbouring colonies around Vebator to form a buffer zone to protect the colony.

If those two corps had obediently headed to Cromwell as they had been ordered, it would have been great trouble for Claude. If the Nasrians kept Wickhamsburg well defended and the Canasians focused on operating outside it, he wouldn't be able to wipe them out with all five enhanced folks, to say nothing of using Thundercrash alone. The two sides might end up suffering just as many casualties as each other.

Fortunately, the Canasians didn't take the Shiksan orders as a royal decree. They decided to go their own way after leaving Vebator, choosing to make money by hunting the wild bulls. Perhaps it had something to do with how control couldn't be centralised between both voluntary corps. During the five-year war, Canas and Nasri were allies with Nasri being the leader. But now, the two nations' troops were being employed by Shiks, so they were on the same level of hierarchy.

Perhaps the reason the Canasian corps left Cromwell was because they were no longer willing to take orders from the Nasrians. The five-year war was over and nobody would be willing to play the subordinate role for no reason. Going to hunt wild bulls for more provisions was merely an excuse to do so. It only ended up giving Claude the opportunity he needed to crush them before moving on to end the Nasrian corps as well. They were nothing but history now.

Claude opened up another map; it was one of the colony of Vebator. He told Eiblont, "Come here to look at the map we got in our spoils. On it, the 27 crucial strongholds near the border are marked. Around 13 days ago, I ordered my subordinate's scout clan to infiltrate the border to check whether this map is correct. I just received an eagle message two days back that they indeed are. The map is accurate.

"Let me emphasise that we got this map from the main camp of the Nasrian corps. You should know that they were formerly in charge of defending Vebator at the border. Unfortunately, their place was taken by the new Shiksan standing corps. Fortunately for us, however, they didn't hand the map back when they left and now, it has fallen into our hands.

"According to intel from our scouts, the Shiksans' standing corps, Tofeid, took over defences on the border. They don't seem to be up to anything apart from defending the strongholds like the voluntary corps used to. However, I found out about one grave mistake they made. They had forgotten that unlike the elite Canasian light-cavalry corps, Tofeid is merely an infantry corps."

He pointed at the points marked on the border. "Eilon, look. These 21 strongholds are crucial to the border's defence and form a defence line. The Canasians had stationed one main tribe in each of the strongholds and three mobile cavalry lines at the three strongholds further back to reinforce any one stronghold when they came under attack. The other three spots are supply strongholds to ensure a constant stream of food, ammunition and medicine to those 21 strongholds. The gold stronghold furthest away would be their command centre.

"If the Canasian cavalrymen were the ones stationed there at this defence line, they will indeed cause us much trouble. No matter which point we attack, it'll only take a short fifteen minutes for reinforcements and more supplies to come from the rear. But now, the Shiksan infantry corps, Tofeid, are the ones manning the defence line. They have nearly no mobility at all and I don't think one of their tribes can last one hour against our attacks.

"The greatest weakness of this defence line is if we conquer any one of the strongholds, the rest would be pointless. If we breach one stronghold and continue straight to the ones in the rear, we can easily cut off information and supplies from the 20 heavily fortified strongholds in the front. The Canasians could've made up for it with their horses and mobility, but an infantry corps like Tofeid just jumped into a grave of their own digging by replacing the Canasian voluntary corps there!"

Eiblont had to agree that Claude made some good points, but he still seemed a little worried. "Now, we have less than five full lines of men capable of entering combat. We also have to leave part of our men behind to watch the captives and Wickhamsburg..."

"There's no need for that many men at all. A main combat line, Strike Tribe 131 from Thundercrash and two lines of your troops should be enough. We'll leave the rest to guard Wickhamsburg. We're only taking on newly formed Shiksan corps, not elite Canasian or Nasrian troops."

On the 23rd of the 10th month, Year 589, Claude led Thundercrash into the Shiksan colony, Vebator.

Chapter 383 - The Nikancha Call for Help

In the 10th month of Year 589, the field marshal of the Aueran Nubissian theatre, Major-General and Honorary Baron Claude Han Ferd, led Thundercrash alongside Major-General Eiblont's 3rd Monolith against the Shiksan colony of Vebator. They overran its defences, set up by Tofeid, easily.

They first took advantage of Thundercrash's mobility to take a crucial stronghold. It opened a path to the other strongholds in the rear. They then devastated the three Tofeid lines.

Claude then took the three supply centres as well as the main command centre, cutting off the front's supply lines and forcing the 20 remaining tribes to surrender. The enemy had 60 thousand men, but he defeated them with just 20 thousand, suffering only 3000 casualties. 50 thousand enemies were taken captive by the end. The incredible victory sent Claude's already substantial reputation soaring.

Zokya, the other corps defending Port Vebator, had wanted to send a folk to reinforce the front, but recalled it once it heard of the front's loss. Thundercrash's troops circled the city, hoping to taunt the enemy into sallying forth.

On the 20th of the 11th month, two light-cavalry lines marched on Port Vebator.

"Too bad we don't have many mortars left. We could've tried taking the city otherwise," Eiblont said regrettably as he put away his precious gold-patterned telescope.

The enemies flocked on the walls looked like they were preparing for the arrival of a great enemy.

Claude shook his head. "Mortars can't do everything. Even if we have a thousand of them, we won't be able to conquer Port Vebator. Don't forget the Shiksans have a Seaking flotilla in port. They can shoot at anything in half the city. And we didn't bring any heavy cannons, so we can't shoot back. We can't take the city wholly until we can force them out of the harbour."

"I know I'm probably overthinking this, but it's infuriating to be unable to finish the dead even though we've marched up to the city walls. If we could only take the city, the war would end. Perhaps we can return to the mainland with magnificent honours and enjoy the peace that is to come instead of participating in this drawn-out war..."

"This war isn't something we can end even after conquering the city. It depends on the people in power in Shiks and whether they're confident they can keep this war going. The way I see it, it's even better if we can't take the city. We exterminated three corps so far, so Shiks will definitely have to send even more here. Once they're here, we can go in for another round of harvest. Should that happen, not only would we have merit, we'd also gain even more captives. It's like slaughtering pigs; we do it once they're fattened up."

"Hahahaha..." The officers all joined in the laughter. The lot of them were no more than a kilometre away from the city walls, radiating sheer arrogance. However, the soldiers on the walls of Port Vebator pretended to not see them. Not a single warrior angrily left the city walls to fight, letting Claude and the rest observe the fortifications on the walls without interfering.

"Alright, let's go back. Looks like the enemy is dead set on staying inside. We can't bring them out. We've come too late. They finished the second potato harvest so they have more than enough food to last a long time. At the very least, however, we managed to stop a third harvest. We can still starve them out," Claude said at the sight of the endless stretches of farmland.

"If you do that, the troops from Shiks will only stay in the city. If they don't come out, how can we slaughter the pig?" asked a lieutenant-colonel from 3rd Monolith.

"Hahaha, if they send a few more corps, even if they choose to stay in the city, it'll still be really taxing on their supply route. Without the farmland to sustain them, feeding the troops will fall to Seaking and the Alliance's navy. I believe they'll crumble in a few years at that rate.

"That's why the Shiksans won't let their troops sit in the city and drain their food stores without doing anything. They'd definitely force them to deploy. The moment they leave Port Vebator, they'll be completely blind to their situation. Our light cavalry can easily limit what they perceive on the battlefield and they'll be free for us to slaughter. We can cut off any portion as we please."

That night, Claude was busy reviewing official documents. He was just about to wash up and head to sleep. They would be moving camp tomorrow morning. While Thundercrash suffered relatively heavy casualties, they were able to wipe out three enemy corps in one go. It was a rather noteworthy achievement. After they returned to Anfiston, they would have to replenish their numbers, reorganise and train as well as start talks on converting Eiblont's 3rd Monolith into 2nd Thundercrash before submitting a request to the ministry of the army to approve the change. There was a bunch of troublesome tasks awaiting them.

Anders came in to make a report. He said that some of the rescued nikancha elders and leaders wanted to meet with him.

He really didn't understand what went through their minds. They still weren't escaping and instead gathered at a spot not far away from where they were forced to farm. Perhaps they had been slaves for so long that they didn't know what to do with their newfound freedom. It was no wonder they were walked over by the Shiksans like that.

During the attack on Vebator, Claude first went for the border defence line and defeated Tofeid. After that, he came all the way to Port Vebator and terrified the troops of Zokya into hiding. As a result, Thundercrash was free to roam the rest of Vebator and destroy one farm after another as well as some militarised farms, liberating some 100 thousand oppressed nikancha people.

Claude didn't do it purely because he wanted to rescue them, of course. It was merely something he did in passing. The officers who took the militarised farms packed up the valuables and ammunition and left the food to the nikancha, warning them to escape so that they wouldn't be captured by the Shiksans and enslaved once more.

To Claude's officers, that was an act of benevolence on their part. While they looked down on the nikancha somewhat, they weren't that prejudiced towards them to the point they saw them as slaves. The most they would do was not associate with them. The soldiers of Thundercrash didn't really care about the nikancha gathering in the farmstead nearby either.

Claude was a little troubled over the reason the nikancha elders could've come to seek him out so late in the night. He had wanted to ignore them, but he thought better of it. He could hear them out, but their survival didn't really matter to him anyway.

As the bandsman of Claude's own personal guard band, Gum and two other guards escorted the four nikancha inside. They first searched the guests before going to stand behind Claude. Anders and two other guards were awaiting further instructions outside the tent.

There were three old and one young nikancha. One of the three old folks had a full head and beard of white, seeming to be in his sixties. The second one was slightly younger in his fifties and had a small moustache. He seemed rather stocky and powerful, which was rare among the nikancha, so he probably was quite high up in the hierarchy and could get enough food. The last one was really lanky, but he wore a calm expression. Claude was reminded of the senior priests of the shrines he had visited.

Behind the three elder nikancha was a masked figure clad in black linen robes. The person looked female based on her build. It was no wonder she growled angrily when Gum searched her.

The four of them bowed to him. Claude waved for them to take a seat and had Anders serve them some wine as was customary for a host. The nikancha preferred wine over tea, but surprisingly, the priestly old nikancha and the robed woman both requested tea.

"What business do you have with me for visiting me so late in the night?" He went straight to the point.

"Sir, we are here to ask whether you're leaving tomorrow," the white-bearded old man respectfully inquired.

Claude nodded. It wasn't something worth hiding in the first place. The troops were packing up today and it wasn't hard for the nikancha to come to that conclusion on their own.

"That's right. We're leaving camp tomorrow. What's your name?" Claude asked.

"Sir, I'm called Mari. I used to be the elder of the settlement of Makuku. However, that place is no more. The dastardly Shiksans have ruined our home."

"Alright, Elder Mari, I am sympathetic to your loss. But is there a reason you came here to ask whether we're leaving tomorrow?"

"Sir, we, the poor nikancha who have lost their homes, have a humble request for you. Can you please take us to the colony of your kingdom and let us rebuild our homes? We are willing to offer our labour in return," the old man said as he knelt to Claude.

Claude almost broke out laughing. It was simply not possible. There were too many nikancha in the Aueran colonies. Introducing even more of them into the colonies could possibly destabilise them. Almost all the viceroys or mayors in the colonies couldn't wait to chase the trouble-causing niknacha to other places and only keep the obedient and hard-working ones who were willing to serve.

Before he left on this excursion, he had heard Sir Bernard say that two colonial members of the House of Dignitarians have teamed up for a bill that would drive all nikancha households except for those formally employed out of the colonies. They believed that removing them would decrease the nikancha crime rate and bring more peaceful lives to the towns and cities.

He would truly be creating problems for himself if he decided to take 100 thousand of them back to the colonies. While he was sympathetic of their plight, it had nothing to do with him. It wasn't like he was obligated to care for them after rescuing them from their Shiksan oppressors.

"This simply isn't possible," he refused, "Thundercrash saved you and liberated you from slaves to free people. That doesn't mean we'll be responsible for you from here on out. I've been quite curious why after we released you, you didn't run to some other place and gathered near our camp. Is that what you were planning this whole time?

"There's no way we can take you back into the colonies. In fact, I hope that you'd pack up and flee to the northern highlands to hide immediately. I can almost be sure that the cowardly Shiksans will send their troops out to recapture you the moment we leave. If you're willing to become slaves once more, you're free to stay here."

The younger one stood and said, "We won't be slaves. In fact, I don't agree to Elder Mari's notion that we should follow you. I'm only here to request whether you can spare us some muskets and ammunition. We will pick up arms ourselves to fight the Shiksans who try to capture us."

Claude looked at him with interest. "You, what's your name?"

He bowed and said, "Sir, I am Kuga, the leader of the strongest nikancha settlement on the western coast, the Kumanri. We've killed more than a hundred Shiksans who infringed upon our lands. However, they sent a few thousand more..."

"Do you know how to use muskets?"

"Of course. Our tribesmen purchased more than two hundred of them from travellers and adventurers passing through our settlement. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to kill so many Shiksans," Kuga confidently replied.

"It wouldn't be an issue for us to give you some, but those are our spoils. What price are you willing to pay for them?" Claude asked with a smile.

"Apologies, Sir. Our wealth's been stolen by the Shiksan bastards. However, I'm willing to trade my beloved treasure for your arms." The robed woman stood up and began to strip.

"This is my daughter, Aimo. She's a saintess of our religion. I am willing to offer her up to you and have her serve you from now on. I only request that you treat her well..."

She was a nikancha woman of around 18 years of age. She seemed to be quite the beauty and sported a sexy figure. However, Claude merely gave her a few looks before shaking his head. "I don't need your daughter to tag along with me, nor do I need you to trade her for arms. I have a proposal which you can consider, however... This might be the ideal solution for you, in fact."

Chapter 384 - Great Deal for the Nikancha

"General..." Myjack rode to the hill on which Claude was quickly, dismounted, handed the reins to a nearby orderman, and saluted.

Claude nodded back and continued to observe the people travelling up the zig-zagging path. They were migrating nikancha who had heeded his warning and were heading for the mountains along Vebator's northern coast. They were going to use the terrain and arms he had lent them to avoid capture.

At the same time, they would send armed men into the inland colonies to attack their mining settlements and rescue their enslaved kin. They would start a new rebellion and gain as much territory as possible before declaring independence as a new nation when the time was right.

A new, independent nikancha country was to be founded. He had spent much time the previous night with his four guests and had successfully made a lucrative deal. He just had to supply them with a Shiksan corps' arms and uniforms. A temporary loan. Once they gained a firm foothold in Shiks, they could repay the loan with metals and minerals. He might even lend them some more equipment.

Myjack and Berklin joined the negotiation later. Claude gave them two missions. Myjack was to take Strike Tribe 131 and conduct a number of raids in the Port Vebator area to fool the enemy into thinking most of their forces were there. He had to buy them a month. In that time the nikancha would travel north. Berklin and a hundred other low-ranking officers would follow them and set up several forts while providing them with the most fundamental military training.

The group travelling south was much smaller, just 3rd Monolith and Thundercrash's main lines. They would bring along a couple hundred carts of spoils and two thousand captives..

Additionally, near ten thousand nikancha youths would be going south as well. Their goal was to head to the three supply strongholds at the border to transport the portion of supplies and ammunition Claude had promised them.

Berklin rushed to the hill he was on with ten plus other junior officers. Claude went over to pat them on their shoulders. "Do you understand your mission now?"

Berklin cracked a smile. "Of course, Chief. Don't worry, we can definitely train them to be almost as capable as the Shiksans in battle. The bigger this fight gets, the better. Once the Shiksans have their attention drawn away by the nikancha rebellion, Thundercrash will have a chance to strike them from behind..."

Though it sounded a little too blatant, it wasn't wrong. He was all too aware of what Claude was trying to achieve. Claude stifled a laugh and kicked him on the leg. "Bastard, you're a lieutenant-colonel, you know. You might even gain one more silver crescent moon on your shoulder mark once we get back, so can you not speak like a thug? We're not like the scammers you saw in the royal capital! Act like a proper officer of the kingdom!"

He then turned to the other chuckling officers with a stern look. "You're all going on this mission as the kingdom's officers. I don't care what you think about the nikancha, or what prejudices you hold against them. But no matter what, never let an ounce of it show through your face. Our official stance for them is sympathy for their experiences. We oppose to them being enslaved, so we're voluntarily helping them with their training and defence lines so they can put up a resistance against Shiks.

"I hope you remember that after you go there, apart from training them, setting up the defence lines and helping them with planning their attacks on the mining settlements, never interfere with any of their internal conflicts or management. If they show you good hospitality or even provide you with women, enjoy that as you please. But never forget that you're only there to help them temporarily. Don't get so close that you won't be able to return, understood?"

The officers all saluted. "Yes, General."

Claude waved them away. "Alright, you're dismissed. I wish you a smooth journey. Lieutenant-Colonel Berklin, there are 96 officers in total that will be going with you. I hope that not one of you will be missing when you return three months later."

Berklin assumed a serious look and said, "Yes, General! Not one missing!"

Looking at Berklin leave with the others, Myjack couldn't resist asking, "General, do you think the nikancha are really reliable?"

Claude sighed and answered a question with another. "What do you think?"

He shook his head. "I don't trust them. Word in the colonies is never to trust the sincerity of the nikancha. They'll make all sorts of oaths to you and forget them the moment they turn around. They're a race without the slightest bit of trustworthiness and honesty. They need our help now, so they humble themselves and act obediently. But if they defeat the Shiksans and really form their nation, they'll definitely regret their deal with us and not follow up on their word."

"You're right. The nikancha are indeed not deserving of our trust. However, they're the only allies we can find now. We help them so that they'll be the main target of the Shiksans and hold their attention. This is the only method we have to turn our bad situation around. You should know that Shiks can afford to fail one time after another since they have a huge reserve military force. But our war theatre can't afford to fail even once.

"If we want to divert Shiks' attention, we have to strengthen the nikancha and make them an actual problem. We'll use the rebellion to make opportunities for ourselves to exterminate a few more Shiksan standing corps and make them feel the pain. That way, they'll come to our kingdom for peace negotiations to stop this senseless colonial war for good."

"I understand, General, but it's a little excessive to give them so much ammunition and arms from our spoils. This is something others in the kingdom can easily use against you," Myjack said with a troubled look.

"No, Jack, even though not selling arms away is a rule that has to be upheld in the Nubissian colonies, it is merely unwritten. As the nikancha are mix blood, they are also partial descendants of the settlers of Freia. That's why they're allowed to live near the towns in the colonies and are given work to ensure a good living for their family. Even some experts on Freia argue that the nikancha shouldn't be considered Nubissian natives."

He pointed to the distant migrating troupe. "Nobody can stop them from obtaining firearms anyway. Didn't Kuga say that they managed to buy more than 200 firearms from individual adventurers to protect Kumanri settlement? They also used those very firearms to threaten three nearby settlements to join their own and became the biggest settlement in the western coast. Kuga is a nikancha filled with ambition and has always dreamed of forming a nation for his own people. I'm merely giving him this chance to fulfil it.

"The nikancha believe in a false deity called Sunidat, lord of all things. They want to form a theocracy and chase away all the white settlers from Nubissia. Back then, it was merely a rallying cry, but now that they actually see hope for forming their own nation in the Shiksan colonies, we don't have to fear they'll sell us out to the Shiksans.

"Sometimes, I really don't understand the Shiksans. Are they really braindead or something? They actually tried to enslave the nikancha to force them to work. In fact, such force was never needed in the first place. All they had to do was pay a small price so they would have enough to live on and buy a couple bottles of wine. That's enough for droves of nikancha to work away in the mines without complaint. That's exactly what the mining companies of our kingdom do. Some nikancha work as miners to sustain their livelihoods.

"Perhaps all we can say about those nobles and mine owners are that they're too greedy. I heard they tried to subjugate the true natives, the eitat, to mine for them. However, their resistance got more and more extreme to the point that it wasn't sustainable, so the Shiksans decided to prey on the gentler and lazier nikancha instead. They used the nikancha as unpaid labourers and treated them as slaves. Unwilling to pay the price, they've antagonised the nikancha for good.

"One reason I agreed to lend them the arms is to strengthen them so they don't get crushed the moment we leave. The other reason is we're unable to take all the arms of Tofeid back in the first place. They weigh far too much and we'd need at least a thousand more carriages to transport all of them back. Where would we get that?

"That's why we have no choice but to give up on these arms. They're not as accurate as the ones made by our kingdom and the gunpowder isn't compatible either. We'd have to rework them if we bring them back, which will prove to be quite troublesome. As for Shiksan uniforms, I doubt you like wearing them either. Giving up on what we don't need is already something we can't avoid. We only have so much manpower and we still have to escort the 100 thousand captives we have.

"So it's not surprising that we're giving the nikancha what's useless to us. It's common knowledge that they love scavenging for scraps. So they found the arms we didn't need and discarded. So what? Are we supposed to return the weapons to the Shiksans instead? Letting them fall into nikancha hands to resist capture from the Shiksans is far better than letting the Shiksans use them against us, right?"

Myjack was speechless. Claude's reasoning was so thorough that he even prepared an excuse to shift responsibility away. The reason he refused letting the beautiful daughter of Kuga, the so-called Saintess Aimo, stay by his side was so that nobody could use her as dirt against him. He even made sure to tell the guards of the three supply strongholds to only allow the nikancha to take over the strongholds after their departure.

"Don't overthink it," he said, giving his brother-in-law a pat on the shoulder, "It's no big deal for them to be armed. They have no factories or workshops. If they want to fight Shiks for real, they'll need our support. Without ammunition, their muskets will be even less threatening than a spear. They'll definitely wear down a lot of their guns as well and have to rely on us for new ones since they can't repair them.

"So, they'll have to pay a price if they want that from us. Now, they don't have much money. But they can easily gain more wealth by raiding the mining towns and cities in the Shiksan colonies. The more chaos they cause, the more wealth they gain, and the more of our support they can afford. By then, they will have drawn most of Shiks' attention.

"Instead of bothering with our war theatre, they'll focus on quelling the nikancha rebellion first. Otherwise, the nobles in their mainland wouldn't forgive them if their interests in the colonies are compromised."

Since Claude had his mind made up, Myjack didn't say anything else and nodded. "General, let's go back. I'll be staying here near Port Vebator for a month and definitely won't let them disrupt our plans."

"You have to use your brains for certain things. You don't need to make a trip to the city every single day. Just maintain control over a few crucial points and launch ambushes against any of the scouts they send out. As long as fewer return than leave, they'll think we're still there. Also, you have to pick another camping spot during the night. Don't remain in the main camp to prevent being attacked at night."

"Huh? General, what do you mean by that?"

"It's simple. If the troops in Port Vebator send out a light-cavalry tent to scout, they definitely won't escape your sights and pursuit. But if they send out a person or two dressed as civilians during midnight, you wouldn't think much of them even if you bump into them during the day. The most you can do is to frighten them before letting them go. This way, it'd be too easy for the location of your camp to leak to them. Once they know you only have a tribe of men, they might send a few lines out to attack you.

"That's why you shouldn't stay in the main camp during the night and set up another hidden camp at a spot with good terrain. If the enemy notices the main camp empty, they'd definitely send another unit to scout. All you have to do at that time is to ambush them mid way. If you can heavily wound them, they'll think that the empty camp is a trick to bait them out of the city. I believe the enemy will no longer dare to attack carelessly and hole up in Port Vebator for good once that happens."

Myjack brightened with realisation. "Understood, General. Don't worry. I'll definitely make sure they stay in the city for one whole month."

Chapter 385 - Position Shift

Huge construction efforts were currently being undertaken in Wickhamsburg. The 50 thousand plus captives of Tofeid were toiling hard away with their blood and sweat to make the city anew.

There was only one reason they were being worked that hard. The current field marshal of the colonial war theatre, Major-General and Honorary Baron Claude Han Ferd, believed that Wickhamsburg in its current state made it unfit to use the scorched-earth tactic as Lord Militant Miselk had formerly laid out.

When the nikancha people started their rebellion in the Shiksan colonies, they came to conquer more and more territory. Thundercrash had to have a firm base near Port Vebator to be able to undermine the Shiksan war effort and rally the nikancha. So, he chose to make Wickhamsburg Thundercrash's new headquarters.

He had planned to have the 50 thousand labourers fortify the four other castles in Cromwell and Balingana to ensure a well-defended supply route from Dorinibla River to Wickhamsburg. He wanted to secure his grasp over Balingana and Cromwell and build a firm economic foundation for the two colonies once the war ends.

As he was busy with the renovation efforts, he didn't neglect to raid Vebator. The area stretching from Wickhamsburg to Port Vebator was now Thundercrash's turf. The Shiksans weren't doing too well on Nubissia and could only defend Port Vebator proper. Now, most of the northern highlands near the coast of Vebator became nikancha-occupied territory and the route from the inland Shiksan colonies to Port Vebator had been cut off by Thundercrash.

During the eight months between the 7th month of Year 589 to the 3rd month of Year 590, Claude didn't return to Lanu even once. He was stationed at the frontlines and dealt with matters from the command centre in the rear through carrier-eagle messages.

Three months since the battles that saw Thundercrash exterminating three enemy corps ended, there were quite a number of issues that required Claude to travel back to Lanu with a light guard to personally deal with.

The folksman of 1st Monolith who was in charge of the defence line at Dorinibla River, Major-General Bolonik, crossed the river to welcome Claude. The two hugged and mounted before crossing the floating bridge to their camp. Claude took a bath to wash off the dust and grime from his travels and put on a new uniform before receiving his colleague's hospitality.

Bolonik had a grand meal served, but neither of them was in a mood to eat. They ate some food cursorily before they began sharing new information. It took three months for them to receive a reply after sending word of the third colonial war spread to the ministry of the army. Assuming the time it took for the messages to be sent was a month, the ministry spent two whole months sitting on the message before sending a reply. The efficiency, or lack thereof, was astonishing.

Regardless, Bolonik knew that communication was actually done through the mining association. They had branches in the royal capital and commanded a rather good information network. Once they received information in the royal capital, they forwarded it to Whitestag before having a messenger take a ferry to Tyrrsim to deliver it. It was then forwarded through carrier eagle to the headquarters of the association in Anfiston. Taking out the two weeks of the voyage, it should've taken less than 20 days for the message to be sent.

"The ministry of the army has agreed to have Eiblont's 3rd Monolith fall under Thundercrash's jurisdiction, but it won't be considered the second Thundercrash folk. Instead, Thundercrash is to be elevated to a corps. You'll be promoted to lieutenant-general to commend your achievement of wiping out three Shiksan standing corps. Your honorary noble title has also been upgraded to viscount as a reward for exterminating the voluntary Nasrian and Canasian corps."

Bolonik continued in a tone of complaint, "You really did quite well to exterminate the main corps of the two nemeses of our kingdom. However, the kingdom really is too stingy with the rewards. They only gave you one promotion and one elevated honorary noble rank and all Eilon got was a good record for his contributions. I heard you'll soon become the corpsman of Thundercrash and Eilon will be made chief of staff.

"Well, that's the good news, anyway. The bad news is that you're now relieved of your position as field marshal and is nothing more than a vice marshal like us. You'll only be serving as acting field marshal until the kingdom sends a replacement to take over. According to what the association picked up, the replacement is the former corpsman of the royal guard corps, General and Hereditary Count Aljess Kai Osmolin. He'll be coming over with a royal guard folk..."

Claude furrowed his brow. Was this the ministry's idea of a carrot and a stick? They promoted him to lieutenant-general and made him honorary viscount. Becoming corpsman of Thundercrash should be his reward. However, Bolonik wasn't mistaken in saying that the reward didn't match up to his achievements. After all, he did exterminate the main forces of the kingdom's nemeses.

While Nasri and Canas proclaimed that the two corps were formed from discharged soldiers who volunteered to serve Shiks as hired troops and didn't have anything to do with them, everyone knew that was but an excuse. Those so-called voluntary corps were actually the main standing corps of those two nations. Their combat prowess far exceeded those of normal mercenary units.

During the second colonial war before Miselk was made Lord Militant, he led Ranger folk and exterminated five Shiksan standing corps. By the time he finally received the greenlight from the ministry of the army to attack Port Vebator, he found the two voluntary corps stationed at the border between the two colonies. He immediately called a halt to the attack. He wasn't confident he could defeat those two corps with Ranger folk alone. Regardless, he was promoted to Lord Militant based on his two unquestioned victories throughout both colonial wars.

The five-year war itself had awakened the Auerans to the strength and tenacity of their neighbours' forces, so it was quite troublesome when they found out they were on the colonies fighting for Shiks. Yet, Claude had been able to destroy those two hired corps with a mere folk of troops, suffering only near half the casualties. The magnitude of his achievement shouldn't be that much different from Miselk's own of eliminating five standing corps, relatively speaking, yet that was all he was rewarded with. It was no wonder Bolonik felt unfair on his behalf.

More surprisingly, they took Claude off his post as field marshal even though he didn't do anything wrong. It was nothing short of humiliating, especially for a general that just raked in a great achievement. And the one who would take his place would be a hereditary count of old nobility and the former corpsman of the royal guard, Aljess Kai Osmolin. It made Claude wonder why they would send one of the highest-ranked generals of the kingdom to the colonies at a time like that. Was he being exiled?

"Do you know the background of General Aljess Kai Osmolin?" he asked.

Bolonik shook his head. "I'm a peasant officer myself and was nothing more than a mere major during the five-year war. I didn't have any ties with someone that high up in the brass like the royal guards' corpsman. However, I've heard that he was the one who led the attack in Rimodra on a stronghold that suffered the highest recorded number of casualties. It's said he's the most proficient of all generals when it comes to offensive manoeuvres. Whether it be citadels or castles, there would be no failures when he takes charge. The only weakness is that every one of his victories come with horrendous casualties. It's very common to hear about decommissioned tribes or lines of troops at a time.

"The one thing I was sure of after receiving the news is you weren't taken off your post as field marshal because of a mistake. Instead, it's only because they want a new and rising general like you to make way. After all, it wouldn't do for a hereditary count to have to answer to you, a lieutenant-general and honorary viscount. It would be nothing short of a slight to the old nobility as a whole. So, the ministry of the army easily accepted two of your proposals and made the extra concession to allow you to upgrade Thundercrash to corps status and let you assimilate Eilon's 3rd Monolith under your command. It's to make up for your loss."

It sounded like a rather reasonable explanation. Though he didn't know why a general, a hereditary count at that, would come to the colonies to take up the post of field marshal. It really wouldn't be appropriate for him to have to answer to Claude. If anything was to blame, it was the fact that he didn't have a rank or noble Title to rival the hereditary count's. So, he could only obediently make way and leave the comfy chair of his post.

"I'm a little worried... The extermination of the two voluntary corps happened during the end of last year, some three months ago from now. Our situation here in Vebator is still the same. The remnants of the enemy are defending the port and not leaving it at all. They're relying on maritime shipments for resources and the area stretching from Wickhamsburg to here is all controlled by our light-cavalry patrol tents. Nobody can expect to enter and leave it alive.

"After the passing of such a long time, I thought Shiks would realise they have failed in the colonial wars and come up with a new strategy. However, being in Nubissia, we aren't able to figure out what their next move would be. We only have what the association detects. General Osmolin will be assuming the post of field marshal and coming with a folk of royal guard troops. Does that mean the ministry of the army received new information and decided we have to increase our numbers here in the war theatre to deal with the next big Shiksan offensive?"

Bolonik looked rather grim too. "That's a good possibility. Shiks lost three standing corps this time around. They're only able to defend Port Vebator and lost contact with their inland colonies. This is nothing short of a face-slap fest for the proud and arrogant Shiks. We've exterminated a total of ten of their standing corps throughout the three colonial wars.

"Even though the two voluntary corps aren't comprised of Shiksans, they've no doubt spent quite a huge sum to hire them. As for the other eight standing corps we took out, no matter how strong Shiks is as a nation, even they wouldn't be able to take this kind of loss without feeling the sting. Given the bold claims they make each time that they fail to live up to as they sustain loss after loss against us, they've no doubt become a huge joke among the other nations on Freia.

"If Shiks can't recoup their losses and come back victorious to save some face in the next colonial war, they might forever lose their status as a superpower in Northern Freia. At the very least, they'd no longer be able to hold the ambitions of the nearby smaller nations back. Another huge war might break out in Northern Freia and there's a chance Shiks might be split and devoured by the other nations.

"I also suspect that they'll be making a huge move in Nubissia next. That's probably why the ministry of the army sent a general here to become field marshal as well as an extra royal guard folk to bolster our forces. Perhaps we'd only stand a chance in a grand battle against Shiks with them here."

According to the news the association sent them, Aljess Kai Osmolin already got on a ferry in Whitestag. It would take another half a month for him to arrive in Tyrrsim assuming ideal sailing conditions, and another half a month for him to make his way to the command centre in Lanu. Claude would have to meet him to officially hand the position over. So, he only had half a month left to wrap up the tasks that were piling up in the war theatre before the new field marshal took the post so that he wouldn't leave a mess for him to clean up.

The feast soon ended. He couldn't sleep well with all the doubts in mind and only got some five hours of rest. He meditated a little to liven his spirits, had breakfast, before joining Bolonik on a three-day express journey back to Lanu.

He felt thankful that Skri was there in the command centre. As Claude's former superior, he knew him rather well and dealt with much that needed to be done in the war theatre without Claude even telling him to. He only left a few checklists for him to look over. Claude thought he would have lots of paperwork to deal with, so he was relieved to see most of them handled.

However, he was still occupied with the matters of Thundercrash. One of them was the request for merit for Borkal that Colonel Kefist handed him. Claude's old friend was sent to take over the bull-selling business and instructed to head to Port Vebator to gather information on the enemy. Borkal was now an intelligence officer of Thundercrash's command and reported directly to the war theatre's command centre.

It seemed that the fatty was doing rather well. Claude read the merit request report. According to it, Borkal had firmed his footing in Port Vebator and set up a branch for the company. He also managed to identify the reason their nikancha informants had ceased all correspondence. Claude already knew the reason; all the nikancha had been captured and enslaved by the Shiksan troops and the informants were no exception. Had Borkal not found out about it, command centre might continue to send even more nikancha informants there only for them to end up enslaved.

Chapter 386 - News from Shiks

After discovering the reason their nikancha informants had been disappearing, Kefist requested merit on Borkal's behalf. Most importantly, Borkal managed to gain a firm footing in Port Vebator with his bull-sale business and formed a network that could allow him to protect himself within a short half year. While he still couldn't get in touch with the city's elites, most of the low-ranked officers and bureaucrats had a decent relationship with him.

In a sense, Borkal could get even more detailed information than the colony's viceroy. He was allowed to go to most off-limit areas. Even Kefist himself, the intelligence department's head, praised him to be a natural, top-class secret agent.

However, gaining intel alone wasn't enough to gain recognition. He had also managed to earn more than three thousand crowns in just half a year. Smuggling food didn't yield much as the food crisis had by now been more or less handled. He only made change by purchasing workhorses at double market price and sending them back. However, he later smuggled lots of luxury goods, ingredients, and alcohol and used their sale to make well-placed acquaintances in the hierarchy.

Thanks to Thundercrash's amazing efforts, the troops in Port Vebator didn't dare leave and strike, causing prices of all sorts of alcohol to skyrocket. Not only did Borkal not need funds from the intelligence department to cover his operations, he made enough to be pretty well off himself. Kefist praised him much for his resourcefulness.

Claude signed the request and stamped his seal. It was too bad he had just heard Borkal returned to Port Vebator again. Everyone knew he was simply there to do business, but nobody criticised him. He made sure to let the Ferd household have forty percent of the shares, the logistics department thirty, and the intelligence department twenty. He took only a tenth of the profits. The city had also lately cut off contact with the rest of the colony and prices were rising even more rapidly. He would never let such a good chance slip by.

Even Claude had to admit his childhood friend was quite capable. Not only was he an adept businessman, he also made sure to take care of his connections. Claude initially wanted Angelina to purchase the company and make it a Ferd family business and lend it to the intelligence department. To ensure Borkal could go to Port Vebator to collect intel with no troubles, he would let him play the role of a shareholder and smuggle. He planned to give him twenty percent of the profit.

But when Borkal returned, he had Claude give out another forty percent of the shares while he gave up half of his shares to the logistics and intelligence departments. He knew that not sharing delicious food could easily inspire envy. Claude had been field marshal at the time, so the departments would have no choice but to cooperate and close an eye to his smuggling.

But wouldn't it be better to just tie them to him? If they had a share of the company's earnings, they wouldn't just be cooperating because Claude ordered them to. Many things could be settled without him having to personally deal with it. For instance, the logistics department could automatically give the company supplies they didn't need and the intelligence department could work with the company to target other unauthorised smugglers.

After signing the merit request, he had to deal with civil affairs with Sir Bernard. The last batch of settlers were dealt with and General Birkin's 4th Monolith was finally completed. They were currently being trained. The reason this had to do with Thundercrash at all was the matter of the sale of workhorses during the third colonial war. More than five thousand of them were put up for sale and they got a huge sum of around 30 thousand crowns.

Claude had exterminated the voluntary Canasian forces during the conflict and obtained more than 50 thousand war horses and some two thousand workhorses and race horses. Then, they took out the Nasrian corps and Shiks' Tofeid. The total number of their race and workhorses rose to nearly three thousand.

Apart from giving Eiblont 35 thousand war horses, he distributed the rest among the three other folks in the theatre. Sir Bernard switched out the workhorses from the three folks with war horses before selling them to the settler households. Around five thousand of them were put up for sale and that greatly relieved the lack of any beasts of burden.

Now, close to 30 thousand crowns had been deposited in Thundercrash's account and would be distributed, since the horses were spoils that were sold. Thirty percent would go to the top, another thirty would go to the officers, twenty to the rest of the soldiers and the last twenty percent distributed as pension for the dead and injured. Claude gave the figures a look before leaving Siegfeld, the chief logistics officer of the folk, in charge of it.

He spent the whole afternoon dealing with urgent paperwork to make sure he didn't leave any mess for the next field marshal to take his place. That way, the hereditary count wouldn't be able to nitpick anything. He began to relax and prepared to return to see his wife and child he hadn't met for the last eight months.

The women of the Ferd household were used to Claude popping up once in a long while. Since he was a major-general of the kingdom, his family didn't really worry for his safety either. As his mother would put it, he was well defended by his personal guard and wouldn't have to charge into battle and take risks himself. She was most worried about his brother, Bloweyk, who was still a mere master-sergeant. There was no avoiding the fate of cannon fodder for this one.

Kefnie was busy raising their second son. She'd left their first to his mother. Thankfully, Mister Weyblon, their landlord, had helped him hire two Aueran settlers to take care of some of the chores. Kefnie didn't have to work so hard anymore and quickly recovered.

When he got home, he greeted his mother. After swearing his brother was doing well and was lively as a bull, he shrugged off her nagging. He had a bath and got a change of clothes before toying with his baby son for a while. Dinnertime came quickly. Just as he was about to take his wife to Lake Lanu for a walk, Gum came to report Weyblon's arrival.

The man came with the latest news. While General Bolonik had gotten updates on the theatre from the mining association, Claude got word from the association about Shiks from the royal capital through Weyblon, as well as all sorts of other gossip. That was a great help for him and he could base much of his strategies on them.

He decided to check out updates from Shiks first. While the information was mostly collated by the association through newspapers and tabloids, he still felt relieved after reading them. There were internal problems in Shiks and they probably wouldn't be able to continue the war on Nubissia in the short term.

The most obvious proof of that came from the Kingdom of Bleyotte, a Shiksan neighbour nation. Their morning newspaper published an article filled with schadenfreude. Following a forced conscription order from Shiks, a local keeper force from a prefecture called Lysemenda seemed unwilling to go to Nubissia and conquered the prefectural capital's armory before fleeing to a nearby mountain to raise their flag of rebellion.

The three keeper units Shiks sent there to quell the rebellion had been defeated, with some even ending up joining their ranks. Their military had no choice but to send a standing corps to deal with the insurgents, but as they were mostly hidden in the mountains, it became a game of hide-and-seek that came to last more than a month.

However, the reason for such a rebellion wasn't publicised. Claude looked around and wasn't able to find anything about that in the newspapers Weyblon brought him. He then asked whether there were other related reports to the keeper rebellion.

Weyblon gave it some thought and said there was. The newspaper from the Kingdom of Mambamark documented the reason for the rebellion. Claude quickly found the paper called 'Whitehorse News' and flipped to the second main header to find an article about it.

According to it, Shiks was a nation that still kept its traditional feudal system. The wealthy king, Majid III, had hoped to change that to erode the power of the nobility and bolster the authority of the royal family. So, he enacted a few policy changes. First, new noble fiefs would only be given in the colonies on Nubissia. Second, existing noble fiefs were to be downsized and replaced with double or triple the territory on Nubissia.

Perhaps he believed that these changes wouldn't incite too strong a reaction from the nobility, as there was limited space in the kingdom. The number of nobles also increased year by year. New noble fiefs had to continuously be created. In other words, the land the royal family controlled got smaller and smaller. If that was allowed to continue, the kingdom might end up becoming a duchy.

However, the Shiksan nobles weren't willing to develop new land in Nubissia. They could simply send others to the colonies to mine for wealth anyway, so there was no point in tying down their descendants in a desolate colony far away. That was why Majid III's policies became universally panned among the nobles.

As a result, the king started the war on the colonies. The seven standing corps of Shiks destroyed by Miselk were actually forces belonging to the noble families of the kingdom. Majid III was tempted to give the general a huge award for helping him decrease the influence the nobles had in his military.

But the Shiksan nobles were no fools either. They soon realised what the king was trying. After all, the royal family wasn't affected much apart from losing money and face throughout the two colonial wars. The seven standing corps all belonged to the noble families. Even their officers were members of those families. Yet, they had become Shiksan captives who couldn't be ransomed back due to the near complete collapse of relations between these two nations.

Even the ten standing corps Shiks proclaimed to be building would source their men from the noble fiefs. The nation was more than happy to let the nobles take up high positions in the corps' hierarchy and provide decent funding on the condition that they be sent to Nubissia to participate in the war.

Some more level-headed nobles realised that it was a ploy to chip away at their influence in the military. It was one thing if they won during the war, but it would be trouble if they failed. Even if they managed to escape and return to the mainland, they would no longer be able to serve in the military ever again. In terms of combat prowess, one Shiksan corps couldn't even rival an Aueran folk, especially given how many tricks they had up their sleeves. The worst case would see their forces completely eliminated without them even finding out the reason the enemy managed to defeat them in the first place.

As such, the Shiksan nobles began to resist the order to form the ten standing corps in their fiefs, resulting in the plan only being carried out halfway so far. The two corps that were completed and trained were sent to Nubissia immediately. The other three that completed formation were still being trained. As for the other five, they couldn't even gather the officers to form a basic hierarchy yet.

When word of their loss of the third colonial war spread to Shiks, the nobles decided to call it quits. The Auerans had attacked their colonies and crushed their three standing corps like they were withered trees. The fact that the new corps couldn't stand up to enemy attack at all was plain for all to see, so the nobles beckoned Majid III to send the eight elite standing corps belonging to the royal family to the colonies to stabilise the situation there.

However, Majid III refused. Among the 15 elite standing corps of Shiks, the seven belonging to the nobles had been exterminated by Miselk during the past two colonial wars and the eight royal standing corps that remained was the only thing the king could use to maintain his hold over the kingdom. There was no way he would send them away.

So, he sent ambassadors to Canas and Nasri in hopes of hiring a few more corps, but the two nations refused the request. They wouldn't hand over the few corps of troops they had remaining.

In the end, Majid III turned his sights back to the nobles. He had the military give a forced conscription order to draft the private troops of the nobles, in other words, the local keeper forces, to form a new combat corps to be sent to Nubissia.

That was the last straw for the nobles. They had endured letting their subjects be drafted, but touching their private forces was the bottom line that should never be infringed upon. In the end, they conspired together to start the rebellion in the Lysemenda prefecture, occupying the mountain and making a huge commotion. Behind the scenes, it was a struggle for power between the nobles and the royals.

Chapter 387 - Majid III's Plans

Something seemed off. Claude put down the reports and dove into his thoughts. If they were accurate, it was easy to conclude Shiks couldn't send more reinforcements for at least the next half a year, which meant the forces currently in-colony would just continue to coop up in the city. It was a perfect time to stage the nikancha rebellion.

But whether they did now was no longer important. It was more important to know when the situation in Shiks would stabilise, and who won the fight between the royals and the nobles. Majid III had given the order to conscript the nobles' levies and had refused to send the royal corps.

At the same time, Nasri and Canas had refused to rent their main corps. Thundercrash and 3rd Monolith had flattened both voluntary corps and it hurt enough to make the two countries second guess their involvement in the war.

In Canas' case, only three of their corps had survived the last war. They had rented one out to Shiks, which had died on Nubissia. They were not about to do the same with the two they had left.

While Nasri was in a better situation, about double what Canas had had, they were also very much still recovering. On top of that, they were walking on thin ice with Aueras, and didn't want to risk provoking a direct response. They could explain away the corps they'd already sent as retired veterans choosing to join Shiks of their own accord, but the excuse would not work for any of their other forces.

Claude finally understood why Majid III had instigated this series of wars. The Shiksan colonies were mostly landlocked. They were covered in mountains and forests. Very little of the territory could be used to produce the fundamentals to survive, like food. All the minerals in the world meant nothing if you couldn't keep the people who mined them alive, an endeavour made all the harder thanks to the abundance of disgruntled natives.

The Bleyotte article had called Majid III delusional for thinking he could just relocate his nobles to the colonies. No one would want to move so far from the centre of power, and even less so when all that awaited them was rocky mountains and angry natives.

All this changed, however, when they got Vebator. With a good port, Shiks' inland colonies had access to the sea and resources for developing the colonies were sent non-stop. The nobles discovered mining was a rather profitable endeavour, so they hired merchants and proprietors to prospect on their behalf.

Majid III sensed the change in the nobles' attitudes. They had become more amenable to relocation. A new problem quickly surfaced, however. Many of the nobles had set up commercial mining operations in the colonies already. Handing out fiefs had thus become a minefield. Give the wrong piece of land with a mine from one noble to another with whom the first had a feud, and you just angered two nobles for the price of one.

The king thus decided to procure more virgin ground, and who better than a kingdom just ravaged by war and licking its wounds? He was particularly partial to Cromwell and Balingana since they were the most fertile, close to his colonies, and had already seen some basic development. They also came with a little bonus. The Albator Plains, which straddled the border between the two colonies, is home to a substantial annual migration of bull herds. Their skins, meat, and horns were a veritable goldmine.

The paper reported the nobles were in full agreement with their king's plans. Some even proclaimed their willingness to be moved to the new continent entirely. It further cemented Majid III's determination to demand the two colonies from Aueras.

Less than three years had passed since the end of the last war at the time. Aueras had still been worn and its economy a wreck. Shiks, on the other hand, had been untainted by war for generations and had sat on their throne in the north unchallenged for decades. Majid III and his ministers believed they could strongarm Aueras just like they did all their minor neighbours. Wounded as Aueras was, however, it had won the war, and the people's, and the aristocracy's, pride would not let them give in to Shiks' demands.

Thus started the first official war on Nubissia. Shiks thought it could overwhelm the Aueran forces with two standing corps, but they disappointed after the four decades of peace the nation had enjoyed. It took them half a year to take Wickhamsburg, which was more than enough time for the Auerans to respond.

The months thereafter had seen Ranger's magical performance. The two so-called elite Shiksan corps were exterminated. The noble faction to whom the two corps had belonged went mad with rage and demanded vengeance.

The king went along and gave the order to have five elite noble corps sent to Nubissia. He also declared that anyone with sufficient achievements would be given land, even titles. The kingdom was willing to give all of Balingana and Cromwell away to reward its brave pioneers.

Not one noble thought they would actually lose. Five corps was 300 thousand men, whereas Aueras only had a folk of 32 thousand. They had ten men for every one Aueras had, and no one thought Aueras' soldiers were worth the shit they shat. They didn't even count the local forces, they were nothing but peasants with sticks as far as Shiks' nobles were concerned.

The nobles who put in the effort and funding soon gathered the supplies the five corps needed and launched the second colonial war. But their grand plans came crashing down like a house of cards. Unlike what they had imagined, their five standing corps were led around by Ranger on a leash and even got into huge trouble. In the end, what remained of their forces had to surrender when Wickhamsburg, their supply base, was burned down.

When word of the complete and total extermination of the five standing corps spread to Shiks, the only person beam with joy about it was Majid III. With the seven noble corps gone, the eight royal corps became the pillar of the kingdom. The royal family became the sole voice in matters of the kingdom and no noble was willing to step up to oppose them.

However, he was well aware that the nobles still had deep foundations despite the loss of their forces. He decided to strike while the iron was hot to cause the nobles to bleed further. After their defeat in the second colonial war, some ministers did advise for the royal corps to be sent to Nubissia to salvage the situation, but they were ignored by the king who cited that their arms were still insufficient to deal with the Aueran threat.

What he did later caused everyone to gasp in horror. He hired the troops of Nasri and Canas as well as their navy to stabilise the situation in Nubissia. Then, he forbade the Aueran ambassador entry with the excuse of venting rage on the nobles' behalf, closing the door to the negotiation table for good and humiliating the Aueran ambassador and the Stellin royal family. That also forfeited all hopes for the nobles to ransom back their captured relatives.

He then gave an impassioned speech on revenge and voiced his support for the nobles to form new forces to continue the fight on Nubissia. The royal family would fund the formation of ten standing corps. Now that he had offered such a great deal, the drafting of the troops would no doubt have to come from the nobles' fiefs.

It was then when some nobles looked back at all that had happened and began to ponder. It only just occurred to them that the nobles had been doing all the heavy lifting throughout the two prior wars while Majid III cheered from the sidelines. Apart from paying some money out of his pocket, all he did was make grand promises and gestures without bearing any of the consequences from the two wars.

And now, the formation of the ten standing corps would deprive the nobles of their manpower pool in their respective fiefs and allow the royal family an opportunity to stretch their influence into their fiefs. With nearly all the troops in Shiks in the royal family's control, if Majid III ever wanted to prey on the nobles, they wouldn't be able to resist the assault of the elite royal corps with their private keeper forces at all. The consequences would be unthinkable.

The nobles who were aware of the ploy began resisting the royal family and Majid III in the only way they knew how: secretly not cooperating and delaying the formation of the standing corps as best they could. In the coming year or so, only two of those corps were formed and the other three couldn't get fully staffed no matter what.

Majid III also found out that his ploy was discovered, but he didn't really mind and sent the two formed corps to Nubissia while pushing for the other three to be staffed. As for the other five, since the nobles weren't interested, he didn't mind delaying their formation. He'll let the situation on Nubissia develop and encourage them to do so again once they began seeing yields. He understood the nobles really well. They wouldn't bite unless there was bait.

The way the king and the military saw it, they didn't really care about the failure of the two colonial wars and believed it to be a result of the nobles being too eager and greedy to see results. Majid III decided to fight firmly and patiently. He would wait for the three other standing corps to be formed and trained first before starting the third colonial war.

By then, there would be seven main corps in the colonies. With the two voluntary corps leading the charge and the other five at the back, they would first clear out Cromwell and set up a tough defence line there before attacking Balingana. He and the military advisors believed that the five enhanced Aueran folks wouldn't be able to resist being overwhelmed with numbers like that at all and their best bet was to give up on Balingana and Cromwell to retreat beyond Dorinibla River to use it to stop the Shiksan offensive.

As long as he could gain the two colonies, Majid III would be able to fulfil his promise to the nobles and give them fiefs relative to their efforts and the losses they suffered in the past two wars as reparations. After tasting profit, the nobles would no doubt drop their suspicion for the royal family and go through with the formation of the other five standing corps without delay.

Once that was complete, Shiks would have 12 standing corps in Nubissia. The king believed nobody would be able to stop them after that. They could even take all the remaining Aueran colonies to make up for their two humiliating losses.

After that, the reputation of Shiks would once more skyrocket on Freia. The nobles would no longer be against having their fiefs moved to the colonies. Majid III would no doubt go down in the history books as the legendary monarch that ushered in the golden age of his kingdom.

Yet, lady fate was ever so fickle. Never would Majid III dream that the new field marshal, Miselk's successor, would take the initiative to start the third colonial war. He launched an attack on the two voluntary corps from Nasri and Canas with Thundercrash, a mere folk. In three triumphant victories, he crushed the two strong corps and even swallowed the new Tofeid corps up. The remaining standing corps turtled up in Port Vebator and secured the only chance Shiks had to fight back.

All his plans evaporated with the horrible loss in the third colonial war. When the news broke, he smashed all the precious art pieces in the royal study. Sometimes, even the most perfect of plans could be ruined by subordinates who didn't do their part. Even so, he still wanted to try one last time and immediately sent ambassadors to Canas and Nasri in hopes of hiring their corps and sending them to secure the situation on Nubissia once more.

But no matter how hard the ambassadors tried, the two nations refused to hire their forces away. Majid III wasn't willing to send his own royal corps there either, so he decided to use the royal family's rightful authority to forcefully conscript the private armies of the nobles for the five corps he intended to send away.

The nobles didn't openly call for a rebellion, but secretly gave the order for their troops to resist forced conscription and escape to the mountains for a game of cat and mouse with the corps Majid III sent after them. With Shiks in such turmoil, its king couldn't be bothered with what was happening on Nubissia at all.

Chapter 388 - Word of Mouth

Claude only had one question in his mind: With Shiks losing all semblance of threat on Nubissia for at least half a year and possibly the foreseeable future, what was the kingdom doing sending a hereditary count and a folk of royal guards to take over his post?

Was he about to be cast away? He shook his head. Impossible. He had done everything by the book, almost pedantically so, since taking over. Not to mention he had just made a massive contribution to the kingdom by eliminating three corps. If the ministry of the army really wanted to take him down, there was no need to go about this in such a roundabout fashion. They just had to summon him to the capital and relieve him.

Not to mention, sending a high-ranking general and a whole folk was overestimating him by a long shot. It was just Nubissia. To the powerful in the kingdom, being sent there was akin to being exiled. There was no way they would let a mere major-general and honorary baron serve as field marshal if that were not so. Sure, Miselk's recommendation definitely played a role, but the more likely cause for his appointment was the fact that most high-ranking officers simply didn't want the post.

If they weren't trying to deal with him, could the general, Hereditary Count Aljess Kai Osmolin have offended someone he shouldn't have? Was he really exiled to Nubissia? That didn't seem likely either, since there would be no need to send a folk of royal guards along in that case.

He began to look through more information Weyblon brought him from the capital, but the newspapers didn't have too much information on other nations. The reports on Aueras itself was fine. The country was doing rather well. Overblown news stories about the third colonial war also took up most of the headlines. Claude suddenly discovered he had some tens of mistresses and illegitimate children he had never heard about overnight.

Stories like 'My Past with the General' and 'The Kingdom's Fiercest General' were all over the tabloids. Quite a number of young and beautiful noblewomen recounted the pleasant times they spent with Claude. Among them, one particularly famous young lady told her recollection of her falling in love at first sight with General Claude during a ball, which led to their tryst and their eventual departure when Claude went to serve the kingdom in the colonies.

Angered, Claude asked, "Can I sue these publications for libel?"

Weyblon sipped at his tea slowly as he waited for Claude to sift through the gossip. Hearing that, he raised his brows and said, "You won't win..."

"Why?"

Weyblon put his cup down.

"The third edition, on which most gossip stories are printed, is also called the rumour edition. On the top of these editions is a disclaimer stating they aren't responsible for any coincidences and similarities. They already don't claim what is published is true, so suing them will only make a joke out of you.

"It's not that people haven't tried doing so, they've just all lost. Take for instance the noblewoman's story about you. While you don't know this woman, she can claim she knows another Claude bearing the same name. As for that famous girl who claimed to have given birth to an illegitimate son of yours, she can say the man's full name is General Claude, not Claude Ferd, and that you were too self-conscious and misunderstood her story."

Claude was speechless that such things actually happened. Though, reading the funny stories did lighten his mood somewhat. The newspapers didn't contain much information of value to him. It would be better to check out the rumour sections to try to sift some inkling of truth out.

He skimmed through the hand-copied tabloids Weyblon had brought. They contained rumours and hearsay that could be worth looking into more than the newspapers. They did mention the appointment of the count as the new field marshal and even had a detailed record of the subordinates and units of the royal guard that would be coming along. More importantly, there was some information about some commotion in the royal guard. Some ten high-ranking officers from old nobility were transferred to join that folk.

Apart from that, there wasn't anything else on the count and the royal guard.

"Does your association have more information on this Count Aljess Kai Osmolin?" Claude asked.

Weyblon laughed

"I came personally because some things can't be written on paper, lest others get their hands on them and use them against us. We can only rely on word of mouth. That way, you'll only be able to hear of it and I can simply deny that I was the person to inform you about this.

"Actually, General Aljess Kai Osmolin has an aim for taking up a post here. He wants to conquer Port Vebator and the colony as a whole for good to end this war and pave a way for him to a promotion to Lord Militant."

Claude's eyes became saucers.

He had been wondering why the ministry had been taking so long, almost two extra months, to respond to the reports and reward them for their achievements. They had been paying attention to Shiks. From what he could read from the newspapers, even Claude could tell what was going on, to say no more of the ministry. After they concluded that Shiks wouldn't send further reinforcements for a while, they decided to put an end to the war.

Claude recalled what he'd heard from Bolonik about Aljess Kai Osmolin. He was the most proficient offensive general the kingdom had and could conquer any kind of fort granted he sacrificed enough men.

Aueras wanted to end the war for good, but with Shiks refusing to negotiate, the only option was to repay a tooth for a tooth. They would conquer all the Shiksan colonies. Without them, Shiks would no longer have any foothold in Nubissia and would no longer be able to send further reinforcements to fight them there. While they could still send Seaking to harass them from time to time, this pirate-like activity could easily be stopped by installing cannons at the ports. If their navy couldn't get on land, there was no way they could conquer new territories.

That was why Aljess was sent there with a folk. He was worried he would be unable to make the folks follow his orders. As a former corpsman of the royal guard, it wasn't difficult for him to request a folk.

"By the way, you mentioned he wants to become Lord Militant?"

Weyblon nodded.

"This is his only chance. The kingdom is only at war in this theatre, so he can only gain more merits here. During the five-year war, he commanded the royal guard corps and fought in Rimodra for three months. While he gained some progress, the casualties suffered by the royal guard and the two irregular corps were far too heavy.

"Prince Hansbach had no choice but to let the royal guard rest and recuperate and retire him. If he was allowed to continue fighting his way, a million lives would've been lost by the time he finished conquering Rimodra, and that was a loss nobody could afford to take. That was why the general was no longer able to continue fighting in the war in Eastern Freia and become a Lord Militant of the kingdom. This time around, he volunteered himself for the position of field marshal and wants to conquer Port Vebator for the promotion he needs."

Claude pondered it over. "In other words, this general isn't someone on the first prince's side then..."

Weyblon laughed and said, "He has never sided with the prince before. He is an old noble to the bone. They take a neutral stance in the struggle for the throne and support neither the first nor second prince. The association believes that the only reason he has come to take your place is for the merit and promotion. With there being only one corps remaining in Port Vebator, he's confident he can take the city, even with heavy casualties."

More moths were being drawn to the fire. Had Claude not eliminated the three enemy corps, this general would've remained in the royal capital with his luxuries instead of wanting to come over so badly to fight him for merit.

It was quite a good deal for the general, however. Shiks couldn't reinforce their colonies at present and there was only one standing corps remaining in Port Vebator. With the folk of royal guards and the five enhanced folks, he had around three corps' worth of troops, roughly three times the numbers of the defenders. It was enough to conquer the city for good.

Even if the enemy had Seaking with them, it wouldn't matter. They'd just lose more men and that was it. They only needed to take the city walls before everything else fell into place. With this achievement under his belt, Aljess could be promoted to Lord Militant and return to the royal capital, leaving behind the mess he will have created in the theatre.

Claude considered whether he should take the city before the general arrived, but he dropped the notion as quickly as it came up. It wasn't that he couldn't take Port Vebator; there simply was no good reason to antagonise the old nobility.

Additionally, he was worried he would make a fool of the general. If Aljess could take Port Vebator, he'd leave soon after to get his promotion.

If he came only to find the city already taken, however, he would have to stay until he could get some other achievement. He would also be soured regarding Claude. He'd make trouble for Claude for every day longer he had to stay on Nubissia.

It would be better to just do nothing. At the very least, he was relieved to discover the real purpose for Aljess' visit. Thundercrash was a light-cavalry force, after all. While they had emerged victorious in the war, they had suffered huge casualties and a third of them were still recovering in the field hospitals. There was no way to fill up the ranks left behind by the thousands of casualties just yet.

Even after the general arrived, Claude would still have to increase the unit's size to a full corps. He could just retreat to Wickhamsburg to reorganise his forces without being bossed around by others in the theatre.

"By the way, my friend, do you have any other rumours spread by word of mouth you can tell me?" he asked, leaning into his chair relaxedly.

"I do."

This time around, Weyblon seemed more alert. He put down his cup and stood up from the couch and approached the desk and whispered.

"Word from the capital is that His Majesty will last another five months at most before returning to the war god's kingdom..."

"What? For real?"

How many years had Stellin X been bedridden? Claude had really forgotten about it. Since the war in Eastern Freia, he had heard about the king's bad health. Most of the kingdom's affairs had been relegated to the first prince, prime minister and other ministers. It had been some eight years at least. People were getting used to the king being unwell. He didn't think he'd finally hear about the king's impending death in a few months.

"It's true. I can't reveal my sources, but I can guarantee it's accurate. During the 10th month of last year, His Majesty got a stroke and couldn't speak well after that, lapsing between wakefulness and haziness often. It's said that the ministers' greatest wish is for His Majesty to appoint his successor before his passing to prevent a power struggle between the two princes..."

Claude shook his head. "On what grounds can the second prince lay claim to the throne? Isn't the first prince managing the kingdom in His Majesty's stead already? His Highness has been doing rather well, and the ministry of the army stands with His Highness too. I believe the second prince best drop out of the race. Otherwise, the first prince might just exile him for good after he ascends to the throne..."

Weyblon chuckled. "General, don't be so sure. There are quite a number of elites in the kingdom who are against the first prince's ascension. At least, the ministry of the navy is. Just five months ago when you were on the battlefield, there's been an assassination attempt on the first prince. His Highness is fine, but Lord Militant Miselk, who was by his side then, got heavily injured and is still recovering.

"The assassins were captured then and there, but they immediately consumed poison and killed themselves. Angered, the first prince ordered the guards to make the assassins minced meat before throwing them into a hole filled with faeces. His Highness then went to the second prince's manor and got into a big argument. The second prince swore publicly that he wasn't the one who sent the assassins, claiming that he would never ever dream of assassinating family. The first prince let him off with just that, but his rashness in dealing with the matter caused his reputation to take a dive. Many thought that the future king shouldn't be so hasty and brash."

Chapter 389 - Sixty Percent

Even though the senior officers in the theatre were grouped with Prince Hansbach's faction, they were a little too far away to be directly involved in the business back home. Claude, for instance, was a peasant officer of whom Prince Hansbach had taken notice and had gained Lord Militant Miselk's favour. He had used his talent to get achievement after achievement under to eventually become a major-general.

Though he knew the latest updates from the capital thanks to Weyblon, such as Miselk's recent injury, there wasn't much he could do to help. Nubissia and Freia were separated by the Tranquil Ocean. He was simply too far away to make any difference. Miselk was hurt during the assassination during the 5th month too, and he didn't hear a thing about it, so it was likely that Miselk had intentionally kept it secret to make sure nobody in the colonies were worried.

In some way, the five enhanced folks were units that belonged to Prince Hansbach. More specifically, the folksmen and most of the high-ranking officers in them were Miselk's own students, all peasant officers who joined Ranger. Their loyalties lay with the first prince alongside Miselk.

As a result, the ministry of the army and the other corps in the kingdom didn't favour Ranger and sent them to Nubissia to repel the Shiksan invasion the first moment they could.

However, they did surprise everyone when they obtained miraculous victories and emerged the victor in both colonial wars, exterminating seven Shiksan standing corps in total. They instantly became the corps that contributed most to the kingdom and the ministry of the army had no choice but to allow Ranger to be raised from folk to corps status and promote a large number of officers in it, as well as promote Miselk to Lord Militant.

The Stellin royal family and others in the ministry of the army, upon seeing how impressive Ranger's reputation had become, summoned Miselk and Ranger back. However, the base framework of the corps and most elite troops were left on Nubissia and refitted into five irregular enhanced corps.

After that, the royal family transferred all officers with a blood relation to them into Ranger and made it a corps that belonged to it proper. In fact, as they cut away Miselk's influence to give the royal family more authority, they were neutering Ranger's combat prowess at the same time.

It wasn't that Miselk didn't understand what the ministry and royal family were aiming to do. However, he didn't really care much about it and had no intention on holding tight on Ranger at all. He was mostly concerned with how the resistance against Shiks was going in the colonies. So, when the ministry of the army suggested him to join the strategy department, he cooperatively resigned as corpsman of Ranger and became one of the many strategists in the ministry of the army's high council alongside Prince Hansbach.

The ministry of the army and high-ranking officials believed that those who remained in the colonial war theatre were destined to be sacrificed as cannon fodder. After all, Shiks had announced their intention to send ten more standing corps there and swore to continue the war for good.

If Aueras hadn't gone through the five-year war, they might've been able to fight Shiks toe to toe. However, it had been less than eight years since the war on Freia ended and the kingdom's treasuries were mostly empty. While they obtained the territory of the three fallen duchies in Eastern Freia, most of it was desolate and time and funding was required to make those territories productive again.

The kingdom also had no choice but to form three standing corps to maintain their grasp over those new territories, so military funds were spread really thin and there wasn't any additional resource that could be spared on the war in the colonies. As such, most of the kingdom's officials held a bleak overview on the situation on Nubissia, as was reflected in their bottom line being keeping the defence line in Anfiston defended to ensure they at least kept three of their colonies there.

Little did they know that Claude Han Ferd, who succeeded Miselk as field marshal, would be that effective and fierce. Though he was initially seen as a scapegoat to take the fall for the failure in the colonial wars, he managed to take the initiative and lead Thundercrash, a ripoff version of Ranger, on an attack on the Shiksan colonial forces.

The third colonial war didn't only just exterminate three enemy corps; two of them belonged to Aueras' archnemeses, Canas and Nasri. That ending completely overturned the situation in the colonies and kickstarted the internal rebellion of the Shiksan forces. Within the foreseeable six months, Shiks would not be able to send any reinforcements to Nubissia.

The ministry of the army and the high-ranking officials saw that as a golden opportunity, so they sent a general of the kingdom, Hereditary Count Aljess Kai Osmolin, to assume the role of field marshal to give the Shiksans a fatal blow by conquering Port Vebator and cutting off Shiksan communication with their inland colonies to end the colonial war for good.

Claude found out about the intentions of the ministry of the army through Weyblon and the newspapers he brought, but he wasn't able to change any of it. He was on Nubissia and would soon be promoted to lieutenant-general, however, he couldn't contact the people in power of the kingdom. In their eyes, he was merely an effective and high-ranking fighter they had at their disposal.

Weyblon didn't just come along to bring news. He also wanted to discuss the matters of the two iron factories they partnered up to run. The success of the mortars netted him a huge order. Claude decided to have ten thousand mortar rounds made for each of the enhanced folks. Half of them were used for live-round training and the other half was saved for use in battle, so Weyblon was now having a headache over how he would be able to fulfil the order of 50 thousand mortar rounds within such a short timeframe.

In terms of profit, each round cost no more than one silver thale to make and was sold for a crown each. In other words, each round netted four thales of profit. The margin was so high it was comparable to robbing a bank. Weyblon even left his own family business to others to manage while he focused his efforts on the collaboration with House Ferd on the arms factories. After all, the profit was far too alluring.

Currently, the war theatre's financial situation wasn't as tight as when Miselk left it. Thanks to the spoils from Claude's victories in the third colonial war, the war theatre's funds numbered in the tens of thousands. Since the new field marshal would be coming in another month, Claude wouldn't leave any of the funds in the public account for his successor to mess with. So, he spent all of it to stock up on all sorts of gear and supplies, and mortars were the main item to buy to raise the combat effectiveness of all five enhanced folks.

Apart from the production of mortar rounds, Weyblon also wanted to discuss the hot-air engine with Claude, or, as he had branded it, the firepower engine. After the attack Claude mounted with Thundercrash, Weyblon hired all sorts of mechanical geniuses to start working on them. Now, there were five prototypes of different sizes and the mine owners took great interest in them. Weyblon now had more than a hundred of those engines ordered.

He hoped that Claude would not take out the profits of their factories within the coming three years and instead reinvest them into the expansion of the factories. he promised that within three years, he would be able to build the largest metalwork factory in the colonies. That was when true profit could be enjoyed. Claude happily agreed to that request.

The next afternoon, he went to the war theatre headquarters to do his work as usual. During noon, he wanted to have a meal with the chief logistics officer, General Skri, all the while discussing the matter of revamping Wickhamsburg's fortifications. Just as he was heading to the logistics building, he heard a loud muttering. Skri was talking some sense to that person before the loudmouth stopped unwillingly and left.

Claude entered Skri's office and saw him rubbing his temples. "What happened to make you seem so troubled?"

The two, being good friends, didn't hide much from one another. Skri grimaced and said, "That person just now wasn't from our war theatre. He's an auditor sent here by the ministry of the army to inspect the arms factories. He came to complain about how the new chief machinist had wasted more than 800 gun barrels for experimentation. The auditor can't afford to be held responsible for that kind of consumption and demanded that we warn the new chief machinist and authorise certifications for the damaged gun barrels..."

"Why does the kingdom regulate gun barrels so strictly?"

"It's simple. Each barrel can only be used to make one gun, and our Aueran guns are the best and most advanced on Freia. Those that control them control the fate of our armies--" Skri raised his tea cup. "--While our five enhanced folks here seem strong, we'll be unable to fight the war if the kingdom stops supplying us with firearms, cannons and ammunition. After all, they're the most-expended goods on the battlefield."

He took a sip and continued. "I know what you're thinking. We can just use the enemy weapons we get from our spoils, right? However, our troops are used to using our weapons and cannons. Would they really use inferior ones like the enemy's? It's a different story if the enemy we're taking weapons from are our kingdom's forces, but consider how many of our men will be willing to revolt with you in the first place.

"So, while we are far away in Nubissia, the ministry of the army still holds a tight leash around us. This is why they approved a firearms repair factory and refused to let us have a factory that makes firearms in the first place. With a repair factory, we can assemble new guns from gun barrels alone. That will greatly reduce repair costs. All we need is for damaged gun barrels to be shipped here from the mainland. But if we build a firearms production factory instead, it could fall into the hands of the local colonial forces. If anyone among them is dissatisfied with the ministry of the army's orders, there is a chance they'd cut off all relation with the kingdom and rule the colonies for themselves."

Skri put down the cup in his hands. "It's a simple method, but it's really effective. Whatever, I won't drone on too long with you. Tell me why you came here. I'll need to check on the repair factory once I'm done eating. I wonder what that chief machinist is up to, damaging so many good firearms within such a short time..."

"I came here to invite you to have a meal together. I also wanted to discuss the funding for the refortification of Wickhamsburg," Claude said solemnly, "I believe the bill for the design and reconstruction of Wickhamsburg and the four other castles in the two colonies shouldn't be footed by our war theatre. Instead, we should request the kingdom for them. If the brass doesn't permit it, I believe we should hold back the gold and silver ingots our mine produces. The mining association has been growing rather dissatisfied with handing over sixty percent of their yield entirely for free to the national bank."

That was the last thing Weyblon discussed with him last night on the association's beckoning. Currently, all of the tax collected in the seven colonies were being spent on the war theatre's five enhanced folks. As the ministry of the army didn't provide any further funding, the war theatre had to collect their own taxes to be self-sufficient.

However, the association's two large gold mines and a few other silver mines in Anfiston still had to pay sixty percent of their ingot yield to the national bank unconditionally. That amounted to near 200 plus thousand crowns of profit. The remaining forty percent, after deducting the costs, left only little for the association. Sometimes, they had to pay off their connections and associates and that left little to no profit for members of the association.

As the saying goes, 'the world runs on money'. The mining association used their own methods and technologies to be able to produce as much yield as they do, yet they had to pay the national bank in the royal capital so much. Ever since they found out about Claude's proposals to reinforce the five castles in Balingana and Cromwell, the association saw it as a good opportunity to stop sending sixty percent of their yield away using that as an excuse.

Skri instantly knew what he was getting at, having gotten along with him for a number of years, and shook his head. "This won't be easy to achieve. The surrendering of the mining yields to the national bank is under the jurisdiction of the national treasury, not the ministry of the army. It's a huge part of the yearly budget and everything is already set in stone. But as the kingdom isn't able to send us any funding for our war efforts here, we are given the exceptional right of collecting our own taxes.

"Then again, it's not like we have to take into account the national treasury and the ministry of the army either. We just have to submit our proposals and request for funding for the refortification project and they'll definitely reply that they don't have the funding for us and ask us to sort this out ourselves. So, we'll just do as they say and hold back the yield of the mines to fund the post-war construction efforts.

"Since it's public spending, if the national treasury is dissatisfied with it, they can bring it up with the ministry of the army. I believe that while we'll be publicly criticised by the ministry for it, they'll actually be secretly cheering for us. However, make sure to have your proposals drafted first and don't bring up the yield of the gold and silver mines in it.

"We have to wait until the national treasury to respond that they don't have funding for us before we can lay our hands on the mines' yield. If they dare trouble us for it, we can proudly show their lack-of-funding reply to them. I believe the one to bear responsibility for this will be the field marshal anyway."

Claude burst out laughing. He was going to retire from his position as field marshal in another month anyway, so the general who wants to be Lord Militant would be the scapegoat for this issue. "Alright. Let's get some food. I'll follow you to the arms factory after that and we can continue to talk about this matter on the way."

Chapter 390 - Reunion After a Long Parting

Claude and Skri had finished their discussion about the funding of the castle renovations by the time the coach reached the arms factory. They had decided to withhold sixty percent of the mining product.

But to avoid angering the national treasury, Skri suggested they only do it for three years. They would simply have to finish the renovations within that time, with whatever they secured, then send everything on to the treasury again. It would be more palatable that way, at least.

As for the association, they would split fifty percent to the theatre instead of sixty to the national treasury per their previous arrangement. That way, they'd gain an increase of ten percent and save on the costs of shipping to Freia -- a far better deal than the previous arrangement.

Claude poked his head out of the coach. They had been stopped at the entrance of a valley. They had to go through a check at the outpost ahead before they could continue. Skri stepped out of the coach and told Claude the factory was defended by a keeper tribe that reported directly to Theatre Command. Every entry and exit had to be checked and registered.

A first lieutenant with two black stars on his epaulettes rushed over and saluted the two. He ordered his keepers to move the stoppers out of the way and let the generals, their coach, and attendants through. Claude waved the coach on, smiling politely at the officer. He preferred walking the rest of the way. Three hours were tough on the back and buttocks.

Skri said the factory was built there because of a lake atop one of the hills. It was a good water source. They built a waterfall which fed directly into a series of pipes which piped it to the various buildings where it powered the machinery.

The valley was quite expansive, probably around three hundred metres wide. It had been artificially flattened so as much of its surface could be used as possible. The middle of the valley was covered in buildings. They were completely cut off from the rest of the valley by a two-metre wall that ran all the way around the compound. Four keepers stood watch by the only gate.

"That is where the factory is," Skri said.

Claude could hear the rumbling of the factory's machines even from here. They completely drowned out the waterfall. He looked up and saw a cast-iron pipe some ten metres long hanging off a ledge. It stretched into the flat-roofed building at the bottom of the cliff.

"The main water pipe," Skri said when he noticed Claude's gaze, "The water flows from the lake up top. The momentum of the falling water is used to power the machines in the building there."

"It's an amazing sight," he exclaimed. He didn't think the people of this world knew how to use hydro power like that. He had thought they would use a water wheel underneath the waterfall, yet there was no waterfall to be seen. They had collected the water falling from the fall into the pipe and utilised it fully.

Skri cracked a laugh. "What's amazing about it? Compared to this, the truly amazing ones can be seen in the arms-forging factories in the kingdom. I was once posted at the second forging plant, the Valencis United Firearms Factories. The waterfall there is as tall as a kilometre and the cast-iron pipe is two metres in width. It's said that the flow of water can be used to power thousands of such machines to make the finest barrels for the most advanced firearms on Freia."

Claude didn't want to hear Skri praise how advanced their firearms allegedly were.

He pointed at the factory and asked, "Going in?"

"No," Skri said, shaking his head as he pointed in another direction. "We're going there. The chief machinist is quite a famous master gunsmith in Eastern Freia and has been created an honorary count by the kingdom. After taking up his post, he made his own research workshop and spends most of his time doing his own experiments there."

Claude noticed a small forest near the other side of the valley where Skri pointed. Within it was a three-storey wooden villa and a row of four log houses. The environment seemed rather good. The small forest was lush and green. However, the smoked and charred look of the wooden buildings seemed rather out of place. It was as if they had been burned before.

"Initially, this new chief machinist lived in the factory itself, but his carelessness during his experiments caused his lab to burn down twice, which the auditor had a lot to say about. He thought the experiments were a risk to the factory, so I sent for some of my men to build his lab and residence over there to suppress the conflict," Skri explained as they walked.

Claude wondered, "Why does it seem like you're taking real good care of the chief machinist?"

Skri laughed. "Because he's a famous gunsmith of whom I've heard for a long time. A certain former subordinate of mine also had really close relations with his daughter, you see. So, I did what I could to help, lest that subordinate complain I haven't taken good care of them..."

Claude didn't think much of it as they continued towards the wooden buildings. They entered the forest and saw a young boy wearing a grey riding vest reading a book under a rubber tree.

"Hey, lil' Mark, where is your mother and grandfather?" Skri asked in a friendly manner.

The boy looked up curiously. When he saw the two, he jumped excitedly.

"Uncle Skri, why have you come?"

As they approached each other, Claude suddenly felt his heart rate increase. He looked at the child's face. It felt deeply familiar but he couldn't place it.

"Grandpa is taking a nap. He should be up soon. Mom's in the lab," the boy said.

"Then Uncle here will go look for your grandpa. Call your mom over. We have an honoured guest tonight," he said, stroking the boy's head.

The boy looked at Claude curiously.

"Is he our guest? His shoulder mark is the same as yours. Is he a general too?"

"Haha, he's not just a general. He's the field marshal, my superior. Even I have to listen to his orders. He's come to visit your grandpa. Alright, go call your mom."

The boy jumped and went looking for his mother.

Claude looked at him go, puzzled.

"Is he the chief machinist's grandson? We're here to visit his grandfather because of the barrel consumption, right? Why did you ask him to get his mother?"

"She's the one breaking the barrels. She's an honorary baroness and a gunsmith. They are a family of three, so she brought her son along."

"I see. It's rare for the family trade to pass from father to daughter. But... breaking more than 800 barrels a year is a little excessive. I'm curious what experiments she's been up to."

"I'm not too sure, but I've heard her father mention she's trying to create a new type of musket, one that is completely unlike the traditional matchlock--" Skri pointed to the log house. "--Let's not dally. If you're curious, you can ask the baroness."

Claude soon saw the new chief machinist, the so-called master gunsmith.

"Good day, Generals, welcome. I am Liboyd Milowski, the new chief machinist," said a man in his sixties with white hair and black-framed crystal spectacles resting on his nose.

While he appeared quite aged, he had a decent sharpness about him. His behaved with the requisite elegance, yet felt approachable.

Claude instantly had a good impression of him. He noticed the man didn't announce his Title, whether intentionally or not. If he had done so, Claude would have to offer his greetings first. But since he only mentioned his post, he had positioned himself as Claude's inferior.

Claude was still a little troubled, however. He had heard the name before, but he couldn't say where. The two introduced themselves and took their seats. The old man's maidservant served tea. The red tea was adorned with lemon slices, honey, and a couple flower petals.

"Please have a taste. It's flower tea from our hometown. It's a little different from the tea you're used to. This has several extra ingredients to highlight the leaves' flavour," Liboyd introduced.

Claude took two sips.

"It's good. Sweet, fragrant, and refreshing. We don't just have straight tea though. As a child, I loved to add honey and milk, my siblings love it too. My father thought it a waste. Now that I'm independent, I can finally add whatever I want. Only I no longer care as much about sweetness as much. I much prefer the unadulterated bitter flavour of good red tea. I suppose that's the price you pay to grow up..."

"Well said, General. It is not an easy realisation for someone of your age to have," Liboyd praised.

Just as Claude wanted to humble himself, he heard a woman's voice come in from outside the room.

"Little rascal... If you drag me out of my lab and there are no honoured guests to attend to, you better worry for your arse. Eh? Why are there so many guards?"

Skri, who was standing at the doorway, recognised the voice. Gum greeted the woman and moved aside to let her in, her hand holding her son's.

"General Claude, this is my daughter, Sonia. The boy with her is my grandson, Marcus."

Clang!

Claude's cup slipped out of his hand, followed a moment later by his jaw.

The woman appeared just as shocked by his appearance.

"H... How?"

The room was suddenly empty, as if all the air had rushed out so you couldn't even hear a pin drop. Claude and the old man's daughter, Sonia, glared at each other, their hearts palpitating. The old man's gaze hopped between the two, not knowing how to interpret the scene. The child was just as startled and hid behind his mother. He poked his head out a few seconds later and glared shyly at Claude. Skri was the only one who continued sipping his tea as if nothing had happened.

"G-general... S-sonia... you two know each other?" Liboyd asked carefully.

"So you were the famous count gunsmith..."

Claude finally understood why the name Liboyd Milowski sounded so familiar to him. As for his daughter, he could not forget the woman to whom he'd given his virginity even if he tried.

His eyes drifted to the boy behind her and instantly recognised his family features hidden behind youth. They'd copulated about a decade earlier, and the boy looked about just that age. Moreover, Sonia definitely had not had a child back then, nor had she been pregnant.

"He's--" Claude mumbled, pointing at the boy.

"--my son. Marcus Milowski," Sonia said quickly, kneeling and hugging her boy.

Claude smiled resignedly. He knew what she feared, but he had no intention of taking his bastard from her.

"Why didn't you write me about this?"

"What would have been the point? You were just a first lieutenant last I'd heard of you," she said a little defensively, "The war had still been going. I had returned to Swansburg and my father was sick. When I'd noticed I was pregnant I'd already lost all hope of tracking you down and getting a letter to you even if I'd wanted to. The city'd already been besieged, and it stayed that way until the war ended a year later. I'd thought of writing then, but I heard about the great losses on the Canasian plains, where I also heard your unit had been sent. I assumed you were among the dead."

Skri stood up.

"Master Boyd, I believe it would be most appropriate for the two of us to talk outside. How about a tour of the factory?"

The old man snapped out of his haze and nodded apologetically.

"A brilliant idea. Please, let me show you around. Mark, come along."

Claude glanced at Skri. The puzzle pieces finally fell into place and he gave the man a harsh yet unangered glare.

"You set me up! Why didn't you tell the moment you found out?"

Skri shrugged.

"And how would I have done that? Besides, until recently it had only been suspicions. I was only certain after I saw the boy's face. You were on the front at the time, so I put it on the backburner. I'd actually been about to schedule a trip here for you when you asked to come yourself."

Skri closed the door behind him as he finished the last sentence. The two were alone in the room now.

"I'm really sorry. It must've been tough." Claude said, stepping forward to his his former fling.

The woman shoved him away.

"Let's be clear, Marcus is mine. He is a Milowski and that won't change."

Claude didn't even know how to react.

"I have no intention of taking him away."

Chapter 391 - Father-Daughter Magi

Skri had other matters to which to attend, so he quickly left the factory with the guards.

Claude remained with Baroness Sonia.

Liboyd was quite open to the whole thing. He didn't treat Claude any different. The war had been raging, after all. There was nothing weird about such things happening between men and women. He was just a little disappointed his daughter hadn't married into a good family, though he knew there wasn't much of a chance Claude would get together with her now. There hadn't been much of a chance before either; she was eight years his senior and a widow.

Perhaps, it would be best if their connection remained private. Liboyd was troubled, however, with what Marcus should call his biological father. If he really was Claude's son, it wouldn't do to have him call Claude father. Everyone would instantly know he was a bastard. He bore the Milowski name, but the bastard stigma did not care for surname.

It wouldn't have mattered if he were but a peasant, but the label would destroy any prospects in noble circles. In the end, Sonia suggested making Claude the boy's godfather. No one would bat an eye at Claude being close to his godson.

Claude was also told why his ex-fling had been destroyed 800 barrels. She had been doing experiments. The breechloader design she had come up with didn't have a decent range, so they decided to increase the charge. Too much would burst the cartridge and jam it in the barrel.

Sonia had tried all kinds of mixtures, but even the most successful ones could only push the barrel's range to 300 metres. A standard Aubass Mark 3 muzzle loader could fire three thousand times without damage. But her barrels lasted only 400 rounds.

Claude saw a familiar rune array in the lab as the woman blabbered on about Marcus having started to make a mess to get her attention because she wasn't playing with him enough. He happened to accidentally mix some powder together and allowed her to make her biggest discovery on ignition powder yet.

With the new ignition powder, the success rate of the firing pin igniting a bullet was raised to 97 percent, which made breechloading possible without having to worry about failed ignitions. That was the problem with flintlocks as they were now; they only fired half the time. Additionally, she also discovered a method to passivise the powder to stabilise it so that it wouldn't ignite from the lightest touch.

Just as she was complaining about the lack of quality barrels, Claude smiled at her.

"You're a magus?"

The woman's face was wax pale immediately. She only froze for a moment before answering him honestly, however. She was a magus, so was her father. But she stressed they weren't evil magi. They were also registered Aueran magi.

She was perhaps afraid Claude would distance himself after discovering they were magi. They didn't have a good reputation in most of Freia, after all. Claude merely nodded. He knew Liboyd couldn't have come up with his innovations otherwise. Given the world's current technological limits, he couldn't have manufactured the parts, nor could he have custom made any firearms on demand.

Claude knew either of the two had to be a magus the moment he heard of their reputations. He'd not suspected they'd both be magi, however.

"Are you both rune magi?" he asked.

Sonia's eyes turned into saucers.

"How can you tell?"

Claude pointed at the array.

"My sister also has one just like it. She uses it for her herbalism studies and calls herself a rune magus."

"I see--" Sonia breathed a sigh of relief. "--I thought you would be afraid of us. I'm relieved. I'm not too sure about whether I can count as a rune magus. My father was taken as a disciple of an old magus because he showed talent. But the old man died two years later. Father married his daughter, my mother.

"Father was just a one-ring magus back then and my mother didn't have any talent. They lived through some harsh days. All my father could do was work; he didn't dare let others discover he was a magus. Two years later, my father went to Askilin to work as a normal factory helper. With a stable income, they settled down and my mother got pregnant. She gave birth to me a year later, but she soon got really ill because of postnatal complications and passed, leaving my father alone with me four years later.

"Father had to work and couldn't care for me, so I was mostly locked up at home alone while he worked the whole day to return at night. It was only when I turned six he managed to save up a sum of money. So, he sent me to the nearby moon shrine for the priestesses to watch over. I lived there for ten years and returned home when I was 16.

"By then, my father had become a rather famous firearms designer and expert. He started his own workshop to custom make firearms. Later, he discovered I had talent for magic too and taught me what he knew. We used the array my grandfather left us to continue fashioning parts for the workshop. We have almost no interaction with other magi..."

It was no surprise, considering how most magi from Siklos considered firearms the weapons of devils and saw it as a huge taboo. People like Liboyd were rare, if they even existed at all. Even though they were magi, they dove deep into designing firearms. They were odd, even among the magi.

Claude sighed.

"I have to consider whether I should take you to meet my sister. Your design has a couple problems. A firearm's range isn't related to the amount of gunpowder it can ignite, neither is it due to the quality of the barrel itself. I often ask my sister to test out new designs for me, but I ran into a roadblock with the ignition mechanism. My sister also discovered a new kind of gunpowder with ten times the power of black powder, but we can't mass produce it."

"What did you say? Your sister has a gunpowder ten times more powerful than these black pellets? I don't believe it! You have to take me to see it! Let's go immediately!"

Sonia jumped over and tugged on his collar.

"Y-you... Let go first..."

Claude didn't think the lover he hadn't seen for ten years would be a mad researcher. She stopped caring about everything else the moment she heard of a new gunpowder.

He had a hard time getting her to let him go. For the sake of his waist, he had no choice but to promise to take her to Angelina's lab after having lunch, lest she subject him to another round of collar shaking during his afternoon rest time.

During lunch, Liboyd heard about Angelina's lab and also expressed interest in taking a look. After the meal, Claude called for a carriage to take all three of them to Angelina's lab.

It only took two hours to travel there. Unlike the factory, which was located deep in the valley, Angelina's lab was located near the rural hills an hour away from Lake Lanu, mainly because it was desolate and uninhabited. She could cause as much of a havoc as she pleased. Claude bought the surrounding land in the name of developing it into a farmstead and made it part of his sister's personal estate.

Unlike Angelina, Myjack really wanted to make the place a farmstead. He even used the excuse of training Tribe 131's troops there and brought them there to erect a one-metre-tall fence with barbed wire surrounding it there. The whole endeavour took up to a week to complete. He also had them build a row of wooden log houses and the main entrance of the farmstead, completing his little love nest with his wife.

The farmstead would be called Anna Farmstead. As Claude's carriage and guard tent approached the log houses, he saw Myjack ride over with a couple subordinates. Claude poked his head out of the carriage and his jaw dropped. Seeing Myjack dismount hurriedly to salute him, he rebuked, "Why are you here?!"

Myjack should've been supervising the captives who were working on the renovation in Wickhamsburg. Yet, he was currently in the farmstead.

"General, I came here on General Eiblont's orders to take Thundercrash Tribe 131 back to the war theatre to pick replacement members. I reported for duty at General Skri's this morning and he gave all of us three days of break. So, I decided to take them back to the farmstead."

Claude now recalled that Skri mentioned sending out eagle messages three days ago to have Thundercrash's units replace lost men. He missed the memo as he was travelling during that time. He didn't think Eiblont would send out Myjack after receiving the letter.

Since he hadn't returned without orders, Claude didn't really bother with it. Myjack was fussing about with his subordinates on what they should plant in the farmstead next year and how many livestock they would be rearing, so Claude waved them away and left them to their own devices before escorting Liboyd, Sonia and Marcus out of the carriage himself.

By the time he turned around, he saw Myjack clasping his mouth to stifle a gasp. He had recognised Sonia. Back then, he was Claude's orderman, so he knew the baroness as well. As for Marcus, Myjack immediately took note of his similarities with Claude and let his imagination run wild.

"You better keep your mouth shut," Claude warned his brother-in-law, before taking the family to his sister's lab.

Angelina was currently working on a new problem Claude gave her: how to increase the range of the mortar without increasing the number of operators or the weight and and area of the firing device. Currently, the mortars could only fire some 70 metres away, which was still rather dangerous for the soldiers involved. They would be within the firing range of the enemy when they let the mortars off.

He wanted to upgrade them into the stereotypical tube-delivery mortar systems he had seen all too often in films. The accuracy of those weapons left quite a deep impression in him and it didn't fire too far either, only around 300 metres. Yet, it was powerful enough to deal huge damage to the anti-Japanese soldiers. Now that Claude had his mortar rounds, he wanted to create a long-distance, tube-firing mechanism that would essentially make him invincible to his enemies in this era. No matter how tough the defences they hid behind, they wouldn't be able to escape from the destruction that rained down from above.

However, he was no military nut back in his old life, so he didn't know how they were made out of. He drew a simple diagram for his sister that consisted of a metal tube supported by two frames with a square-shaped metallic base plate at the bottom. He remembered them to have some kind of firing pin at the bottom of the contraption. Before the rounds were fired, they were first fitted with a fuse. The round would then be loaded fuse first and downwards into the tube to have the firing pin pierce the round itself. Once the pin was ignited, the grenade part of the round would be flung some 200 metres away.

Claude thought that it wouldn't be too hard to make this new contraption. Since he already had the rounds, he just had to make a tube according to their sizes. The fuse could be made separately or even be added to the rounds during the manufacturing process. The issue was calibrating the fuse to only trigger the explosion once the rounds were around 200 metres away instead of having them explode as they travelled through the air. The only tough part was the ignition mechanism. How would they create a firing pin that could trigger the ignition that would send the round flying out of the tube?

However, Angelina hadn't gotten far in her experiments. What Claude thought should've been simple was hard to achieve for her. Even Myjack thought that his ideas were a little unreliable. For the current sling mechanism for their mortars, even if they failed to fire, one could throw the round away with one's hand to minimise the damage. However, putting the round into a metal tube like Claude asked would make it impossible to throw the round away if it didn't fire after ignition. The tube would explode into shrapnel and pose to be a huge threat for the operators.

That was why Angelina's experiments progressed really slowly, if at all. That was also why he took Liboyd and Sonia to her lab. Perhaps the project would develop faster with the two of them working on it together.

He wasn't sure whether it was because both of them were rune magi or whether Angelina figured out Claude's relationship with Sonia after seeing Marcus, Angelina got along with Sonia swimmingly. She showed Sonia her stabilised nitroglycerin-base gunpowder while the latter showed her the ignition powder she invented.

Angelina was elated after testing the ignition powder. She took out a lot of odd tools from a large box. Sonia asked her what she was about to do with it and she replied that with the ignition powder, the revolver she had been working on could finally be completed.

Chapter 392 - Revolver Test: Success!

As far as Claude could remember, revolvers were the easiest to make. He couldn't have been more wrong. He got the notion from watching old cowboy movies in which the chaps invariably forged weapons around campfires.

It wasn't that he had expected it to do much. It only had to fire a hundred metres and have an effective range of fifty. The cowboys duelled from near point-blank range, after all. In chaotic shootouts in cowboy towns, they fought from just fifty metres apart at most.

He believed a revolver that shot five or six rounds made for a great self-defence weapon in an era of matchlocks. It was, at least, far more reliable than carrying a 'short-barreled' matchlock musket around. As a military officer, he would rather carry a normal Aubass Mark 3 like the other soldiers' than use an ornate but impractical short-barreled musket in a charge. It was far too lame.

Rather than using a short-barreled musket, he'd rather lead his troops on horseback wearing bright, white gloves or waving his sword around. That would make him seem brave and impressive to his men and inspire confidence in them that they would win.

That was why he didn't carry any other weapon apart from his decorative sword. He felt that he was lacking something the whole time. After he was promoted to become a field officer, he couldn't carry a short-barreled musket like the junior officers that hung theirs against their thighs as it was a weapon meant for self-defence on the battlefield. That was the reason he asked his sister to research grenades and revolvers.

The other reason for that was he remembered the design and layout of the revolver the most. That was thanks to his boss back on Earth who collected revolver replicas like the real ones apart from the many other mock firearms. When Claude had nothing better to do, he would fidget around with the revolvers and take them apart before putting them back together to the point he knew exactly how they worked. The designs he drew for his sister were based off that exact revolver, but the barrel of this one was hollowed out, unlike that of the replica. He even drew a few sample bullet designs.

As he expected, Angelina didn't have a hard time fashioning the parts using her array. After a few adjustments, it became a revolver almost like the one he remembered. The main issue, however, was the bullets. He didn't know how to make mercury fulminate, so he wasn't able to make a proper primer for the cartridge ammunition. The misfiring rate of flint-firing mechanisms was also too high. So, he had to first switch the hammering mechanism. Otherwise, the bullets in the revolver might fail to fire.

Oftentimes, seeing someone make something gave off the impression it was simple. Even if one could remember the steps perfectly, actually putting it into practice was much, much harder and the end product could be completely different.

That was exactly the case with the revolver Claude had his sister make. In the end, the grenade became a mortar, and the revolver failed because he didn't have the requisite materials for a bullet primer. While they did make quite a lot of progress with stabilised nitroglycerin powder, it couldn't be mass-produced as it was only possible to make in small quantities using arrays.

With the new ignition powder Sonia invented, they could replace mercury fulminate with it. Angelina took out the few revolver samples she made and assembled the parts before manufacturing a cartridge with the new kind of powder.

Sonia gasped, not daring to cry out in fear of affecting Angelina's movements.

"What's wrong?" Claude asked, not understanding her surprise. Liboyd was also looking at Angelina with terror and desire.

"Is... is that Fine Control? The legendary forbidden spell?" Sonia whispered.

Angelina had turned Magus' Hands into all sorts of tools as she put the primer together before installing it at the bottom of the cartridge. However, she was stopped by Claude before she put in nitroglycerin powder. The power was too high and it might cause the bullet to explode within the chamber of the revolver. It would be best to use normal black powder. He recalled that the bullets the cowboy made himself in a particular western flick also used normal black powder.

He only recalled what Sonia said when Angelina began filling the cartridge with powder. "That's right. This is Fine Control. You haven't learned it before? I thought Fine Control and Magus' Hands were basic spells for rune magi."

"We know Magic Hands, which you call Magus' Hands. But we haven't learned Fine Control, so we aren't able to turn the hands into any other tool," she said as she looked at Angelina quickly assemble one cartridge after another in her array. "When we make parts for our experiments, we use one Magic Hand to hold the object and another to hold a tool to make fine adjustments. We often have to switch tools and that makes everything rather slow. We can't work nearly as quickly as Anna."

Claude soon found out about the basic spells the two had learned. Unlike the proper rune spells from Landes' legacy, Sonia's grandfather, the old magus, had spells that seemed like they were for apprentice magi that helped real rune magi out. The seven basic spells they had were Appraisal, Magus' Hands, Decomposition, Reconstruction, Clean, Temperature Control and Shape Fixing.

All of them were support spells for rune experiments. It was no wonder the old magus was so poor. Liboyd said that his teacher would secretly sell the magic items he made to make a living. The items he sold included water bottles that refilled themselves and clothes that cleaned themselves every day. Back then, he was quite curious about those things and strove hard to learn magic from his teacher. However, he didn't know that the items had time limits. Their magic effects would disappear within three months.

That was the reason the magus didn't dare reveal his whereabouts and sold his items for cheap. The basic runic spells he knew weren't enough for him to win fights, nor did they make him any better of a thief. It was only after Liboyd became a worker in a firearms factory that he learned how truly useful those seven spells were. It helped him build a firm foundation as a custom firearms maker.

Claude asked the two of them what rings they were at and received a surprising answer. Liboyd was a three-ring magus while Sonia was a two-ring magus. The reason for that was simple: the old magus only left seven basic spells for them back then. So, the two no longer had any basic spells to engrave in their rings and couldn't continue to meditate to the next level.

At the time, Liboyd was already renowned for his work and he got to know a few other magi in the employ of Askilinan and Rimodran nobles. But his vocation as a gunsmith caused him to be avoided by other magi, so he wasn't able to integrate himself in their circle to obtain new spells. He and his daughter remained two-ring magi for decades.

It was only after the five-year war that they were invited to Aueras and created honorary nobles. They also registered to be magi then. So, they bought lots of so-called harmless spells from the Watchers to engrave as basic spells so that they could continue to train. Eight years later, Liboyd was now a three-ring rune magus whereas Sonia was too busy with her experiments that she remained a two-ring rune magus.

That was why they seemed so envious upon seeing Angelina use Fine Control to make all sorts of tools with Magus' Hands. If they also knew that legendary spell that was crucial for rune magi, using the array would be so much more convenient for them.

"No worries. If you become a three-ring magus, I'll get my sister to pass those basic rune spells to you. As for you, Uncle, if you can become a four-ring rune magus, I have a spell which you can use to clear out your old basic spells so you can engrave new ones. I'll get Anna to sort out useful rune spells and give them to you. I believe this will be a great help to your experiments," Claude generously said.

"Really?" Sonia was elated and she hugged Claude tightly. She almost wanted to give him a kiss.

"Of course." Claude had long planned to get the two to work for him. Relying on his sister alone to research weapons would take far too long, and he couldn't make time to help out either. So, Liboyd and Sonia were the perfect candidates he needed. As they used to be Askilinians, they weren't that loyal to Aueras and wouldn't always think in the kingdom's interest. Sonia also had a close relationship with him. On account of her father and Marcus, she would definitely help him out. So, he didn't hesitate to offer up the basic rune spells as a gift and a sign of goodwill.

Just as they were chatting, Angelina finished the assembly of the bullets and revolvers. There were three revolvers and 54 bullets in total. Each revolver could fire three full chambers of rounds. Claude brought them to the back of the lab with even ground that made it suitable for test firing. Gum instructed the guards to place three targets at 20, 30, 40 and 50 metres away respectively per Claude's instructions for the tests.

Claude didn't manage to get to test the revolvers out first, however. Myjack and Gum took two 'to be the guinea pigs' as they put it, and Angelina wasn't willing to let go of the last one. She said that since she was the one who did most of the work, she definitely had to be among the first to test it.

The first round of testing ignored accuracy and only focused on piercing all three targets from 20 metres away. The power of the shots could be comparable to a short-barreled musket, about which Sonia and her father were surprised. Claude was quite satisfied with its performance.

At 30 metres away, two targets were pierced while the last one remained intact. At 40 metres, all three bullets were embedded in the first target and at 50 metres, the bullets only left dents in the first wooden target. Claude reasoned that people could still be hurt since wooden targets were much stronger.

There were only two bullets left in the three revolvers. One of them didn't fire. Upon inspection, it was discovered that Angelina neglected to shut the cartridge tightly enough, causing the ignition to fail. As for the other five bullets that remained, they used them to test the longest firing distance of the revolvers. The results averaged around 110 metres, though the trajectory of the bullets swayed considerably.

Claude stopped the second round of tests, inspected the revolvers before he whispered some things to Angelina. She nodded and entered her lab again before coming out some ten minutes later. Claude announced the recommencement of the tests.

The second and third rounds of tests were shocking. The power of the revolvers increased considerably and one target could be shot through from 40 metres away. The bullets also managed to embed themselves deep in the target 50 metres away. The longest firing distance was also increased to 150 metres.

"Are you sure this is not the effect of some spell?" Sonia asked, shocked.

"Nope. I only had Anna add some rifling in the barrels."

"Rifling? What do they do?" Sonia's face was one huge question mark.

He wasn't quite sure how to explain it. After much thought, he made his best effort to tell her and her father about it. "I read an ancient magus' journal before. He recorded many insights of the magi. One wind-aspect magus realised that as he was flying in the sky, the air applied quite a lot of resistance to him. The faster he flew, the more air resistance he would experience."

Liboyd nodded. It was common knowledge. Putting flying aside, people would feel air resistance simply by running fast enough.

"That magus continued his experiments and realised that it wasn't just humans. Other objects also experienced air resistance as they coursed through the air. The faster the speed, the more the resistance. He started experimenting with bows and crossbows in hopes of finding a way to counter air resistance, only to fail. Air is present everywhere. It wasn't something magic could remove. But he was surprised to discover that a spiralling motion could increase the distance and speed objects could fly, essentially decreasing the effect air resistance had on them."

Claude drew an unrifled barrel and a rifled one on the ground immediately. A bullet fired from an unrifled barrel flew straight and would be affected by air resistance before its direction changed and it fell to the ground. A bullet fired from a rifled barrel, on the other hand, could rotate in the air in a spiralling motion. The drilling motion helped reduce the air resistance it experienced, allowing it to fly further with more speed and power.

For Liboyd and Sonia, this visit to Angelina's lab was overwhelming. It had completely turned their worlds around. As a master gunsmith, Liboyd could tell that the revolver Claude had his sister make was a completely new design based on a never-before-seen concept. He had completely abandoned the matchlock ignition mechanism and there wasn't the cumbersome to reload in a cumbersome manner either. The gun could even fire successively. It was a mature self-defence weapon right out of the bat.

Sonia grabbed Claude tightly, not letting him go as she had mountains of questions to unload on him.

Chapter 393 - Recruitment

"Claude, why do you make jackets with brass?"

"Why must the jacket opening be slightly larger than the bullet?"

"Why aren't the bullets round?"

"Why can the bullet fire so far even though it's not rammed deep into the barrel?"

"How did you even come up with revolvers?"

"Oh, and your rapid-fire design is genius. Can you tell me how you came up with it?"

"By the way, if I increase the barrel length and add a stock, can I make a revolving rifle?"

......

Sonia had become a curious child. She held the revolver delicately, lovingly appreciating it, as she grabbed Claude's hand and emptied her chamber of questions onto him.

His eyes were already rolling as he thought about a reasonable explanation for everything. The only reason the revolver now existed was the cowboy flicks he'd watched as a kid. He could only come up with some rubbish explanations, but with a master like Liboyd listening from the side he had to be more careful. Whether he could recruit the two depended on that.

"Let me go first, Sonia. Many of your questions are repeats of one another," Claude said as he cleared his throat.

He spoke again once she'd let go of him.

"Uncle, Sonia, let's go back to my lab. I have pen and paper there and I can tell you how I came up with the design."

Only Claude, Angelina, Sonia, and Liboyd went to the lab. Little Marcus wanted to learn how to ride a horse, so Claude had Myjack take care of his 'godson'. As for Gum, he stood guard outside the lab.

"I have hated short-barreled muskets for as long as I can remember. Unlike full-length muskets, they're much weaker for no greater ease of use," he began, "I didn't understand why shorter muskets could be so much worse than normal ones despite being half their length--" He turned to Sonia and smiled. "--I was just a junior officer in the last war, so I had to fight personally. Regulations say a junior officer has to carry a shortsword, a standard-issue musket and a short-barreled musket.

"But the short-barrels are completely useless. They're quite literally dead weight. My comrades often casually fired them once then tossed them away so they'd not have to deal with the extra weight. I started thinking of a way to remedy the situation early on.

"The biggest weakness short-barrels have is how long they take to reload. Because they use paper cartridges, the barrels have to be cleaned regularly. On top of that, you have to ram each round individually between shots. Then pierce the cartridge through the hole from the firing pan, powder the pan, and only then fire after aiming.

"You might as well just use a normal musket for all the trouble. You're not going to reload the short-barrel in a fight in close enough quarters for it to be accurate, anyway. I started by focusing on ways to simplify the reload process and up the fire rate. Which brought my attention to the cartridges.

"My first idea was to try to ignite the gunpowder inside the cartridge directly without having to pierce the cartridge each time. I was naive enough to think I could put flint behind the cartridges and install a hammer to strike it inside the barrel.

"I had been serving in Squirrel at the time. Which was when I met you," Claude said, nodding to Sonia.

She blushed at the reminder.

"We explored the thought of loading the musket from the rear. This is the first short-barrel I designed."

He drew a short-barreled musket on the paper. There was only a gun barrel and behind it a hammer mechanism with stock and trigger. There weren't any confusing implements like flash pans attached to the top of the barrel. It was incredibly clean. He then drew a few curved lines below it.

"This is the one I designed. The barrel can be rotated so the bullets can be shoved in from below. The hammer strikes the cartridge and sets off the charge. It greatly simplifies its usage on the battlefield. If possible, I would've liked to add one or two more barrels so I could fire three rounds at once or three times before having to reload--" He shrugged and smiled helplessly. "--But it didn't work. The design looked fine, but actually making it was--"

"--The first breech-loader I designed looked just like this. You could load it by rotating the barrel upside down. Later, when I had ignition powder, I tested it and the range was only 260 metres..."

Claude nodded.

"You managed to conduct actual experiments. That's better than I could do. I didn't have the luxury in the army. I did do some tests on broken muskets and noticed a huge problem. The issue is the bullets, not the barrel. Paper cartridges just don't do well with breech-loading. The hammers can't strike hard enough in this design to ignite the cartridges.

"Most likely it'll just crumple the paper. When I noticed this, I began thinking of how to replace the paper cartridges.

"During my stay in Squirrel, I discovered a hermit magus. With her help, we ran many experiments and found that the best material to use for making cartridges was brass because of how malleable it is. If we use iron, the cartridge would crack after firing and can't be reused. Gold and silver cost too much, whereas lead and zinc deform too easily. Steel is too hard and brittle, so we settled on brass in the end.

"After choosing that to replace paper, I noticed another problem. The cartridge can easily remain stuck in the firearm and it will take a lot of trouble to get it removed. It troubled me for quite a long time. It was only after I saw a cannoneer drill that I understood the reason behind it."

He took out another piece of paper and drew a simple cannon. "Did you notice that the cannon's bottom part is thick and the thickness tapers towards the top? I noticed it and was quite curious about it, so I asked a veteran cannoneer why that was the case.

"He told me that if the construction of the cannon isn't tough enough, the explosion inside it would cause it to crack because the gunpowder is concentrated at the bottom. With a firm base, all the energy from the explosion will be diverted towards the heavy round at the top to push it out of the barrel.

"His words gave me an idea. Since that was how cannons fired, couldn't it apply to firearms too? It was only a difference in size, after all. I went back to the drawing board and noticed that firearms only needed an opening on one side for the bullet to travel through. The other parts had to be tightly sealed. Only then would the energy of the explosion be focused in the direction of the barrel's exit instead of leaking out elsewhere.

"If I'm not mistaken, replacing paper cartridges with brass ones essentially means the powder's explosion occurs inside the brass case just like what happens in a normal gun barrel. So, all I needed to make sure of was to set the bullet in the direction of the barrel's opening. That was why I made the case of the cartridge slightly wider than the bullet head. That way, the cartridge wouldn't end up stuck inside the barrel.

"All that remained was to make sure that the cartridge remains secured inside the barrel. That would prevent the case from cracking or deforming too. That's why I don't need better barrels to resist an explosion caused by more gunpowder. Sonia's attempt at filling even more gunpowder into the barrel was misguided in the first place."

Sonia was tearing up. It felt really embarrassing to hear that coming from Claude. Being a gunsmith, she hated herself for being stubborn and single minded. All she knew to do was to continue stuffing more and more gunpowder into the barrel and ended up wasting more than 800 fine barrels in half a year's time without getting any results. Why couldn't she just change tracks to try another method to solve a problem?

"With brass cartridges, making the short barrel became possible. However, its misfire rate was too high. Like I mentioned, the flint at the bottom of the cartridge wouldn't be able to spark every time the hammer struck it. On the battlefield, nobody can guarantee someone enough time to switch out a misfired bullet, so the short barrel I designed wasn't too useful yet.

"Even after a long time, I wasn't able to develop a good ignition powder, so the revolver remained only a concept. It was only after I saw a water wheel that I gained more inspiration. You know the kind that turns to get the bamboo tube to siphon water into the fields? I believe you should've seen them before, right? That was what gave me the idea. What if we could immediately switch to the next bullet if one of them misfired in a loop? A whole round of shots could cause at least two or three bullets to fire. It's still far better than pulling the trigger endlessly in hopes that the same bullet would ignite and fire, right?

"So, I began to design the revolver and it became what you see before you now. After some estimations, I decided that it was most optimal for a chamber to have five to six rounds. Too many would make the operation too complex and leave lots of room for errors. The hammer wouldn't be able to strike the flint at the bottom of the cartridges accurately either. That was why I came up with this six-round chamber. Next came designing the barrel and body of the gun itself. These three revolvers are the end result."

He picked one up, opened it, and removed then chamber before reassembling it. "As I was designing the revolving chamber, I was still pondering how we can reload quickly on the battlefield. Later, I came up with the idea of not having to reload every single slot in the chamber. It would be much faster to pop in another loaded chamber.

"Then again, I still have to thank you, Sonia. If not for the ignition powder you invented, my invention would never see the light of day. Cartridges misfire because of flint too often. Anna ran some tests and there was one occasion when not a single bullet in two chambers fired. So, I decided to abandon the project for the moment."

Liboyd began clapping. "I really have to offer you my praise, Claude. You put a so-called master gunsmith like me to shame. You managed to create a new type of firearm that isn't a matchlock and also perfected it to the point that no further improvements can be made. I only have one question. Why did you name them revolvers instead of spinwheels?"

Claude felt his sweat forming. That's right, why revolvers and not spinwheels? Where would I get an answer to that? He had hoodwinked his way through the thought process he used to come up with it and the last thing he wanted was to be thought of as a mere firearms enthusiast rather than an inventor. How had he been able to come up with such a mature and developed firearm if that was the case?

Thankfully, he asked about the name rather than the actual weapon itself. He wiped his sweat off as he twirled the chamber around in his hand as a lightbulb appeared over his head. "Well, Uncle, it doesn't quite spin continuously. Instead, the chamber revolves a step at a time, hence the name. You can call it a spinwheel if you want, but it doesn't sound nearly as cool and threatening as 'revolver'. By the way, Uncle, could you and Sonia stay behind to help me?"

"Help you?" Liboyd asked doubtfully, "The revolver is a success. How else can we help?"

"Well, Uncle, you should know these guns are fashioned by my sister using an alchemical array. We have to standardise the part sizes if we're to mass produce them.

"Additionally, we have to standardise the brass cartridge production process. I doubt my sister can make more than a few hundred in her lab. She'd definitely get sick of it quickly enough.

"Both my sister and I are outsiders when it comes to standardisation and mass production. We don't even know where to start. I also want to put these cartridges and breech loading on rifles as well. But I think I used up all my insights with this revolver. I can't seem to figure out how a longer version would look.

"Having you and Sonia around would definitely be a great help. If you're willing, I'd construct a workshop for you and satisfy all your needs."

The workshop itself wouldn't cost much, but the machinery and materials was a different story. That was especially the case, with both of them being rune magi. The materials they used were definitely costly. When he saw the lab they made themselves, he found it really run down. It couldn't compare to his sister's. So, Sonia had no choice but to use her father's name to perform experiments on those gun barrels and eventually caught the notice of the auditor due to the sheer number consumed.

Sonia smiled and instantly agreed to his lover. "I can stay to help you..."

Liboyd, however, sighed.

"Claude, it's not that I don't want to, I just can't. A good workshop or production line needs enough water power to run..."

Claude smiled.

"You don't need water power. We have hot-air engines here."

Chapter 394 - General Aljess

Claude was exceedingly busy in the following days. He took Sonia and Liboyd to the factory he had started with Weyblon. After the tour of their mortar production line, he was surprised to notice Liboyd had become very interested in the mortars and hot-air engines. He immediately accepted Claude's invitation and was prepared to continue researching the two magnificent discoveries.

Naturally, he didn't resign from his position as chief machinist. It wasn't like he actually needed to be there. The auditor would oversee everything on site. Claude was fine with it; it was a public position, after all, and would afford him many conveniences.

Liboyd could focus his attention on research in the farmstead. He only needed to go to the factory from time to time and show his face to the auditor while not getting into trouble.

Since Liboyd and Sonia had agreed to work for him, he had to begin working on the farmstead to expand the lab. He needed to add a mini workshop for the two. He also had to prepare a decent residence. He was not about to let his son, bastard or not, live in anything less than proper lodgings.

Having drawn everything up, he tossed poor Myjack several pages of blueprints and let him deal with the project. The man would only be allowed to return to his post after it was finished. As for the costs, he funded it with the Shiksan funds he had embezzled. He invested 100 thousand crowns in the mansion and workshop. His only condition was that the two gunsmiths keep everything hush-hush.

Busy days flew by by the dozen and soon a month had passed. Claude got a message from General Skri. Count Aljess Kai Osmolin would arrive in Lanu in the late morning hours of the next day. Claude was to personally welcome him and relinquish his position.

The former royal guard corpsman was incredibly impatient. He had continued on the moment he set foot on land. He didn't even bother to say hello to the viceroy. Claude wondered if he thought they might take Port Verbator before he arrived if he was a day late. He hadn't taken over as field marshal yet. The five enhanced corps wouldn't hold back on his say-so until he did, so Claude supposed his worries weren't without reason, if still unwarranted.

At least Claude didn't have to organise the welcome ceremony. He left everything to Sir Bernard and General Skri. He just showed his face in the right places and made the right grunts at the appropriate times.

His replacement was an hour late. The man's escort were spotless, but their eyes were bloodshot and their steps far less steady than he'd expected. He supposed it wasn't unreasonable to look like that after the march they'd had to do.

Claude and his compatriots noted the conspicuous absence of those same signs of fatigue from the general who'd driven the men that hard. He sat comfortably on a handsome white steed, his thighs gently hugging a gold-embroidered saddle. He wore a spotless, if standard, general's uniform. The parade variety; and spotless, of course.

The former corpsman appeared to be in his fifties. He had an angular, expressionless face and sported a blonde head of hair. A single strip had gone astray and sat uncomfortably on his upper lip in which Claude concluded was a sorry excuse for a moustache, despite all the grooming it clearly received several times a day. He sat regally upon his steed and watched the welcome party approach through judgemental eyes.

"Music!" a major yelled and the brass band in parade assembly started playing 'Great Kingdom'.

The party closed the rest of the distance and came to a practised halt in front of the general's mount. They each introduced themselves formally and saluted the general.

Aljess returned the salutes, still atop his horse. He only dismounted once they'd all finished their introduction, Claude included, and clapped a shake of the hand at each. He even had a jovial exchange with Claude, carefully complimenting him in all the right ways.

All the initial formalities exchanged, the crowd proceeded to the HQ, Claude and Bolonik trailing at the back, whispering to one another.

"He cuts quite the unfriendly figure," Bolonik whispered, "He could at least have done the courtesy of getting off his high horse and greeting us properly from the start. Instead he stared down at us as if he's a king and we're peasants. I suppose I should have expected that, however. He is a kingdom officer, after all."

"Then why did he dismount after we introduced ourselves?"

Claude didn't think Aljess would be a simple person at all, but he didn't understand the reason behind his dismounting and shaking their hands.

"You don't know even this?--" Bolonik glared at him like an uneducated bumpkin. "--He remained on horseback to emphasise his seniority. That's strictly officially. Didn't you notice he returned our salutes? After that, he dismounted and immediately held hands with us, not as a fellow soldier, but as a noble. He's fine with us being buddies as long as we play the good little servants when he starts giving orders."

"A little too much fuss over details, isn't it?"

Bolonik laughed.

"It's an old-nobility thing. No matter what they think or plan, don't you feel that we'll get along well with him? He would, of course, not be so nice if we weren't of use to him. You'd get only his high horse if you weren't. Also, you might not be in command anymore, but you're still the former field marshal. You should walk faster. It wouldn't do to rush in after them."

Claude quickened his pace and circled around the crowd to enter the building first. The documents he was prepared to hand over were all on his desk, awaiting the general's arrival.

Not long after, Aljess, Skri, and Bernard stepped into Claude's soon-to-be-former office at the same time. Claude quickly stood up to welcome his replacement again and showed him the documents. Aljess was quite surprised with how eager he seemed to be to hand over his authority. Skri explained smilingly.

"General Claude has long been waiting for someone to relieve him. He can't wait to have more free time to spend with his wife and kids."

While Aljess was a little taken aback that Claude had his whole family with him, he didn't ask any questions, merely smiling instead.

"Since General Claude's being so thoughtful, let us get this over quickly."

The documents were mostly reports waiting to be audited. Claude's accounts were simple and clean, so things went smoothly. All spending had been checked by Skri and his department. He didn't embezzle funds either. He preferred using his own money for most transactions, and as far as his personal finances were concerned, nobody could look into them.

After the handover was the banquet. They all made merry and Bolonik stuffed Claude with alcohol. Near the end of the banquet, they were notified that Aljess would be holding a meeting with all the high-ranking officers at nine the next day, so Claude and the rest had to attend.

Claude rushed to the headquarters early the next morning to a full room. Every officer within travel distance had come. Thundercrash's high-ranking officers couldn't make it in time, however, but that was to be expected given how far away they were. Myjack was there, however. He had been busy with all the work in the farmstead lately and had not gone to Wickhamsburg with Tribe 131.

Aljess entered at nine, sharp. Despite his tardiness the day before, he seemed to be a punctual fellow. He announced the rewards the kingdom had decided to confer upon the men for all but ensuring they would win the war. Claude had been informed beforehand, of course. He would be promoted to lieutenant-general and be made an honorary viscount. He would also be given the new post as corpsman of Thundercrash, which would be expanded to a full corps.

After announcing the rewards and promotions, Aljess gave his first speech as the new field marshal. He straightforwardly stated their next mission would be the conquest of Port Vebator to bring a final, permanent end to the war.

He also announced he would inspect all the forces in the theatre personally to gain a first-hand understanding of their capabilities. Once he was done, he would turn his attention to Port Vebator.

The meeting was finished, but everyone was invited to dine with the general for lunch, after which they were to attend the war council. The new field marshal apparently didn't trust his new forces to be worth what the reports said they were. Especially not the enhanced corps, who were classified as irregulars, the same irregulars who'd done horribly during the last war.

Miselk had initially planned to have the five enhanced folks be defensive formations. Apart from the offensive Thundercrash, it was apparent from the names of the Monolith folks. They would stand firm and tough like a monolith and never give way. Thundercrash was an oddity.

No one had expected Claude to practically win the war with Thundercrash alone. The folk had done practically all the fighting, and all the dying. They'd lost a third of their number so far. It would be some months before they were back up to strength, which was not good for Aljess since he was planning to assault Vebator soon.

He'd expected the folk's officers to protest when he announced his timetable, but they were fully confident they could take the city. The report on the city Colonel Kefist had submitted was also an eye opener. The details on the defences and troop dispositions were all there.

Lines 1301 through 1304 were holding outside the city. The corps defending the port had been confined for half a year now. Even if they wanted to leave, there was nowhere to go. The nikancha rebellion was in full swing on the northern coasts. They had formed an army and were taking the fight to the inland colonies. They had taken a fifth of the colonial territory in just two months.

Aljess was quite shocked to see that the situation in Vebator was so heavily in their favour.

"Why haven't you sent the men into the city yet?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Thundercrash's casualties have been too severe. We had to give them time to recover," Claude answered.

"Our orders were to defend Dorinibla," Bolonik added.

"Just like 1st Monolith, we had to defend the Claude Defence Line," Sevict said in his turn.

Birkin shrugged nonchalantly.

"4th Monolith has just been formed. We're not even done training yet."

Aljess' eyes flickered quietly. He knew most of it was just convenient excuses. The city just needed a single thorough knock to fall over. They could easily have done it with Thundercrash alone, even in its undermanned state. They'd really just been leaving the honour of the final conquest to him.

"I understand your goodwill, gentlemen. House Osmolin shall remember this favour. Let us set out for Port Vebator in half a month, then."

"Why don't we just send troops out in a few days?" Claude asked, "General, you don't even have to use the royal guard. Just send in the monoliths."

The general shook his head after a moment's thought.

"No, this merit is mine alone. The royal guard has to be part of it. They need the merit."

Everyone nodded obediently.

Chapter 395 - Attack Drill

They were based in a tough, well-fortified base. The new field marshal had seen many strongholds in his time. Though the Rimodran strongholds couldn't compare, they still dealt huge casualties to the royal guard.

"A stronghold like this, when defended by a tribe, is enough to repel a whole line. How many men are you going to send in? What are the estimated casualties?" Aljess asked, turning to Claude, Bolonik, and Sevict.

Aljess had gathered many people for the inspection of 2nd Monolith, accompanied by Sevict. He also asked him to carry out some live drills to get an idea of 2nd Monolith's capabilities. He then personally inspected the defences to see if there were any weaknesses.

Quite a few soldiers were placing scarecrows near the trenches and mud walls. They also erected eight cannon-shaped stacks of wood. A tribe had around a thousand men, but they wouldn't actually have a thousand scarecrows. Each one, instead, represented a tent of twelve. They only needed a hundred scarecrows to represent a tribe.

"I'm going to use a clan," Sevict replied.

Aljess nodded.

"Very well. You play it safe and use conventional tactics. That's a strength. Use a clan for a probing attack and figure out where most of the enemy's firepower is. You'll avoid those areas in the main attack and decrease your casualties."

Sevict looked at Bolonik as if he was about to argue. However, Bolonik shook his head and Sevict sighed, choosing instead to nod.

"General, I shall go take command. Please observe our drill from here and give us an evaluation. By the way, General, when are we attacking?"

"The best time would be at night. The darkness will allow you to approach their defences easier as the defenders can only focus on the small illuminated area directly in front of the defences. Sometimes, windy nights will cause the flames to crackle and distract the troops, which would make for an even better opportunity for a sudden attack.

"However, since General Sevict is going to launch a probing attack with a clan, night wouldn't be ideal. You wouldn't get a good look at where the enemy is concentrated. It's better to attack in the early afternoon. Let the fighting drag on until nightfall, and charge in once the sky is dark."

Sevict turned and left. Bolonik received a report from his aide and left the general. The other field officers gathered around the field marshal. One lieutenant-colonel laughed.

"General, 2nd Monolith's linesman seemed a little dissatisfied with your comments."

A colonel of the royal guard shook his head.

"Well, they are only irregulars in charge of defence. They don't understand how tough the battlefield is. I suspect their usual training doesn't even include attack drills. This drill might end up a farce. Perhaps they think only one charge will be enough to reach the enemy defences and conquer the fort."

Aljess didn't stop his men from making their insults.

"Alright, shut up and watch the drill," he finally said, "Even if you want to criticise them, make sure you have proof. Don't use empty rhetoric."

A lieutenant-colonel from 2nd Monolith came over and saluted the general.

"General, according to your orders, 2nd Monolith will attack the enemy's stronghold at two in the afternoon, consider it just a few minutes from now. I am Lieutenant-Colonel Pambeck, 2nd Monolith's chief of staff. Please allow me to commentate on this drill."

Aljess waved him away casually.

"There's no need for commentary. I can see a minor battle like this well from here. I don't need any explanations."

"Understood."

Since the general said he didn't need it, Pambeck saluted and left.

It was around ten in the morning. A sharp brass whistle sounded a few minutes after Pambeck departed. The attack had begun.

2nd Monolith appeared in groups of two. They were spread too thin. Quite a few royal guards were shaking their heads. Even if they managed to charge the enemy defences, they wouldn't have many beside them to back them up. It was giving the enemy a free kill. They were irregulars alright, irregulars through and through. Even their coordination was utter trash.

There were only around a hundred soldiers split into fifty groups. Each pair had a man in front and the other behind. They ran with an odd gait, their bodies leaned forwards and their heads kept low. A few officers nodded, surprise on their faces.

"Well, would you look at that, they're not complete idiots. They're at least making it hard to hit them. They're still just a hundred, however."

The men continued advancing until they were about 150 metres from the defences. They then dropped to their stomachs, vanishing into the grass, and crawled further. At a distance of a hundred metres, they took a small shovel from their backs and dug deep into the ground. The observers stared at the scene with complete perplexion.

They soon understood what they were up to, however. The soldiers quickly dug two-man holes. Once they finished, they got in and steadied their guns at the enemy. Once everyone was underground, the order was given and they started firing on the targets.

With their telescopes, the officers could see the marks left by the bullets. They finally realised what was really going on. The men Sevict had sent on the initial skirmish were all sharpshooters.

They'd never heard of someone sending sharpshooters out on skirmish duty. The royal guard usually sent normal infantry. The sharpshooters would only ever fire from the rear at opportune targets.

"I see. Those hundred or so sharpshooters have more or less suppressed all the defenders. Anyone who tries to peek over the walls would be shot," an officer exclaimed.

The sharpshooter tactic was unique to Aueras thanks to the Aubass Mark 3. It basically entailed firing at the enemy from a distance of more than 100 metres, which happened to be the limits of the Mark 3's effective range.

Yet another sharp brass whistle sounded. This time, the attacking troops were just sixty. They were grouped in twos just like the sharpshooters. Some sharp-eyed officer realised the ones running at the back were carrying a weird metal frame on their backs.

The second wave crawled when they were 150 metres away just like the first. They twisted and squirmed like earthworms to advance. However, they advanced beyond the sharpshooters' foxholes, only stopping when they were some 70 metres from the enemy defences. They took out their shovels and dug holes as well. They, differently from the sharpshooters, piled all the dirt in front of the holes, between them and the enemy.

The observers wondered what they were up to this time. Was 2nd Monolith a folk of miners? Or were they going to dig their way every 40 metres until they reached the walls? The officers didn't think holes from that distance would do them much good.

"If I were the defending commander, I would have the troops in the forward trenches prepare for a melee. In the meantime, I would have them hide and not poke out their heads. I would then order the cannons to retreat some 30 metres to increase the distance they have to travel, bringing our defence line back. That way, the sharpshooters would be out of range. Then, I would aim the cannons at the foxholes of the sharpshooters," said a bearded officer.

Another officer shook his head.

"It's useless. Don't you see the second wave of attackers piling the dirt up in front of their holes? Cannons aren't muskets. They can't aim that accurately. You might only hit the holes once or twice for every ten shots. How long do you think you need to clear them out? Weird... Why are they still digging?"

The officers could see from their telescopes that the soldiers were still tossing earth out of their holes at a distance of 70 metres from the defence line. Each was big enough for four people. What was the point of such a big hole?

A third whistle sounded. The next wave of troops were again less than the second wave, just 40 this time. They weren't carrying firearms at all. Instead, each carried a large pack. Just like the soldiers before, they crawled from 150 metres towards the larger holes.

When the soldiers carrying the packs entered the large holes, the others began setting up the odd metallic frames they had been carrying. One took out a black object from their packs and put it on a frame. Another stopped digging and began firing at the defence line with their muskets.

When the fourth whistle blew, black objects were flung out of the thirty plus holes at the defences. When they landed, they exploded into a chaos of bright lights, flames, and mud. The scarecrows and defences were flung high into the air and came crashing down in bits and pieces.

The royal guard observers, including General Aljess, stared with agape mouths at the rapidly crumbling defence line.

The fifth whistle sounded in short order. Forty-odd soldiers in groups of two, one carrying a metal frame and the other two packs, ran forward. They didn't even bother to crawl. They ran to 50 metres from the shattered defences and started setting up. One of the pair erected the frame, while the other loaded a payload onto it. The observers couldn't tell what from this distance.

When the 20 groups were finished, three men charged out of each of the large holes and closed in a further 20 metres before setting up their weapons again and unleashing another volley of fire.

The defence line was done for. Not a single defender could've survived. Aljess and his companions were completely flabbergasted. So this was why Sevict had said a clan was enough. He'd not even done a probing attack, he'd simply walked over the defences in one fell swoop.

Though they felt a little humiliated, they didn't care about their egos in a moment like this. They marched down to the drill field.

"You, come here!" Aljess shouted, beckoning two of the mortar operators.

"What weapons are those?" he asked, pointing at the weird metal frames.

The soldiers looked at the frames, smiled and answered.

"It's the payload delivery mechanism for the mortars."

"Mortar?"

A royal guard officer removed the soldier's pack which still had one round remaining.

"You mean this?"

With the guidance of the two soldiers, the officers personally tested it out and witnessed its destructive power.

"It can reach around 80 metres... No wonder the soldiers only began digging 30 metres ahead of the sharpshooters. They were already in range of the enemy and had to shield themselves." They finally understood why the soldiers dug such large holes.

Another officer quickly found out about the damage a mortar could deal.

"The string fuse ensures that they only explode five to six seconds after activation. The explosion kills everything within five or six metres. The round itself is chipped so it'll fragment and turn anyone in range and exposed into mince!"

"Actually, I've seen something similar before. During the five-year war in an attack on Rimodra, the rear made a shipment of spherical rounds like these mortars that were about double the size. They were really heavy and had a string poking out of them. Before flinging them away, the string had to be lit, unlike these mortar rounds that can be activated just by pulling the string out to trigger the fuse..."

"Ah, I've seen the ones you mentioned," another officer said, "That can't compare with these at all. Those were too heavy and large. They can only be delivered using catapults. While they can be fired some 300 metres away, the time it took to move a catapult to the front and take aim with it leaves too much time for the men to be killed. In the end, we didn't even manage to use even one of them and lost lots of men instead. Soon, the troops abandoned the weapons. It's not nearly as convenient as the small contraptions used here which can be carried on the back of one soldier."

Sevict and Bolonik arrived.

"General, this is?"

Aljess laughed.

"There's no need to keep the drill going. I didn't think you'd have such an amazing weapon! With the mortars, I doubt the enemy would weather our attacks. By the way, General Sevict, where'd you get these mortars?"

Chapter 396 - Gunshots at Midnight

Claude flipped the invitation in his hand around, finding it a little weird. Wasn't the new field marshal, general and hereditary count, Aljess Kai Osmolin, out to inspect 1st and 2nd Monolith for the next two days? Why would he invite him to a private dinner?

Was he trying to recruit him to his side, or did he think Claude was going against him because he wasn't there with him for the survey? Was the general trying to find an excuse to deal with him? No, if that was the case, why would he need to invite him to a meal? A private dinner was a social occasion meant to pull ties closer or facilitate some sort of private deal.

"You said Aljess began his journey back to headquarters this morning?" Claude asked Anders, who had come back to deliver the invitation.

He nodded.

"Yes, Sir. According to the original itenary, the general should be inspecting 1st Monolith today. The whole session should take five days. But for some reason, he cancelled all his plans and began heading back to headquarters while sending his aide to bring that invitation to you."

Claude thought about it for a moment.

"Did General Bolonik come back with him?"

"No. I heard General Bolonik has returned to 1st Monolith."

"Alright. Tell the aide who sent this I would be honoured to accept the general's invitation."

It was already late and the horses' hooves rattled away into the distance. Claude sunk into deep thought in his carriage. He did not imagine Aljess would invite him to a private dinner to get the blueprints of the mortars and the rights to produce them.

Aljess had booked the most premium room in the most luxurious tavern in Lanu, Mezka, to host him. Claude was surprised he would be dining alone with Aljess.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at the start but Aljess was a master of conversation, as was to be expected of old nobility. While there was an age difference of nearly two decades, Claude didn't feel any sense of distance talking to him. They first discussed some gossip from the capital before moving on to the topic of educating their children as well as the plans he had for his sister's farmstead. Soon, Claude was relaxed and laughing without reservation.

After the meal, red tea was served and the real talks began in earnest. Claude found out the reason the plans for other inspections were cancelled. He had seen the attack drill carried out by 2nd Monolith and discovered their trump card: the mortar. Confident that Port Vebator could be conquered with ease, he stopped the inspection immediately.

He said that he now understood the key to their victories against the three standing corps in the third colonial war after witnessing the destructive capabilities of the new weapon. When he heard from Bolonik that Claude was its inventor, he immediately returned to Lanu. He wanted to buy mortars for the royal guard folk as well as obtain the rights to produce mortars.

As a member of the old nobility and its representative in the kingdom's army, Aljess was nobody to be trifled with. While his military career was slightly marred by the casualties incurred under his command, he still had his reputation of never failing in a siege. Otherwise, he'd never have been promoted to his rank as general in the first place.

He was well aware what having mortars in a siege battle meant. The kingdom's troops could break through one fort after another with minimal casualties. Had it not been for his consideration of Claude's status and power, he would've loved to use other less savoury methods to obtain the rights to produce mortars.

Naturally, Claude understood how that could be achieved. It was all too easy to forge the mortars. All one had to do was to crack them open and the internals were plain for all to see. Given that there weren't any intellectual property laws in this world, if a faction like the old nobility had their eyes on the mortars, they could produce counterfeit versions of them with his permission or not with a superficial change from the cylindrical shape to a round shape. The fact that Aljess was willing to invite Claude to a banquet and request to be allowed to produce them was already a sign of heavy courtesy towards him.

Claude immediately agreed to the request and signed his name on an official document. He also drew some standard drawings with the internals of the mortars on a piece of white paper and made detailed markings where certain special manufacturing techniques were required, which greatly satisfied the general. He didn't think Claude would be so proactive about it and immediately gave him a 10-thousand-crown bank note as payment.

However, his next gesture would be his main token of gratitude. He immediately placed an order for 20 thousand mortars for the royal guard folk. However, it wasn't at the internal price of one crown each that the five enhanced folks enjoyed. Instead, he bought it at a high price of three crowns per round. Aljess told him that while the first 50 thousand mortar rounds produced and sold in the war theatre for a cheap price of one crown was fine since they were still being tested, the official price had to be raised to three crowns each, or he would be making a loss.

Though, Claude didn't understand how there could be a loss. Each mortar round only cost around a thale to make. Coupled with other miscellaneous fees, they totalled up to less than two thales. Selling each for one crown already made three thales of profit. Now that the mortars' efficacy had been proven in actual battle, and the drill also showed off their power, the kingdom's army would definitely be buying them en masse. How could he make any loss?

Aljess laughed and said that he admired how well the five enhanced folks in the colonies got along. There was no internal strife or struggles, unlike the rivalries between the main standing corps of the kingdom. They were always at the brink of tearing each other's hair out. At worst, they could even sabotage one another.

Aljess didn't set the price at three crowns for his own greed, nor was he trying to make the old nobility make a huge profit. Instead, two of the three crowns were there for everyone involved to benefit from the sale. Only then could they keep the production methods and secrets of the mortars among themselves, preventing other military factories in the kingdom from making counterfeit versions.

Now, Claude had two extra bank notes with him. The first was a 10-thousand-crown one for the rights of production, which he could pocket personally. The other could be exchanged for 60 thousand crowns. Aljess graciously paid for the 20 thousand mortars he intended to order for the royal guard. He even told Claude that he would be using funds from the royal guard's budget without spending a fenny from the war theatre's funds.

This time around, he took 300 thousand crowns with him to the war theatre to conquer Port Vebator and seal his promotion to Lord Militant in stone. He was prepared to spend all of it. Claude was shocked at how immensely wealthy someone from the old nobility could be. Naturally, Aljess wasn't the one paying out of his own pocket. Most of the members of the royal guard folk that came with him were backed by old noble families as well.

Aljess also told him to not worry that he would sit in the position of field marshal for long. He was only in Nubissia for the merits. After conquering Port Vebator, he would soon return to mainland with the royal guard. The position was Claude's to hold after that.

On the way back, Claude recalled Aljess' promise and suspected that the kingdom might not maintain the war theatre after Port Vebator was conquered. Without the threat from the Shiksan colonisers, rule of the colonies might return to the viceroys and high-commissioners. By then, Thundercrash corps and the three remaining Monolith folks might have nowhere to go. Instead, they might undergo mass discharge like the other irregular corps of the kingdom and only keep a skeleton crew.

Just as his carriage was about to reach Weyblon Manor, it suddenly stopped. Gum gave the order to be alert, causing the situation to tense up immediately. Claude looked out of the window, only to see the escort guards huddled behind their mounts with their muskets raised.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Gum reported, "General, there were five to six drunks just now. They seemed to be new settlers and were causing trouble by the side of the road. We chased them far away, so it's fine now."

It seemed like they made a big deal out of nothing but a few drunks. There wasn't a need to be that alert. However, ever since Gum took up post as bandsman of Claude's band of guards, he didn't skimp on security one bit and did everything according to protocol.

When Claude reached home, he got into bed with his wife and performed obligatory husbandly duties before falling asleep with her in his arms. But soon, he was startled awake by a clear gunshot. A commotion built up around the manor and torches and candles were lit all over the place.

Kefnie was still fast asleep, so he carefully removed the arm she put over him, got out of bed and put on his pajamas, before he left the bedroom. Gum quickly came over with a lit matchlock in unkempt clothing.

"General, are you alright?" Gum asked as he checked the surroundings carefully.

"I'm fine. Who fired that shot?" He lit the candles in the living room. Gum was only relieved after the room was fully illuminated.

"Our sentry upstairs made the shot. He said he saw three figures climb over the walls into the manor. He seemed to have shot one of them. Currently, the intruders could still be hiding in the manor, or they might've gotten away. We have to run a search immediately."

"Perhaps they're mere thieves. I heard the security in Lanu has gotten rather bad lately. General Saljorak has complained to me about it a number of times. He needs Lanu to form a garrison unit instead of relying on some 50 keepers to patrol a town with near 100 thousand people. Yet, the war theatre didn't approve of the funds necessary for the garrison's formation. Perhaps I should remind General Aljess about this tomorrow..."

Lanu should long have been elevated from town to city status. Ever since the 100 thousand immigrant households were settled down in Anfiston, many skilled artisans weren't willing to become farmers. Instead, they borrowed loans to start their own ateliers and shops in Lanu, causing the town to instantly expand three to four times in size. With the increase of people came more security problems. Thievery and bar fights were all too commonplace and the town patrol that numbered only a band were overwhelmed. They were unable to deal with the security crisis in Lanu.

General Saljorak, the one in charge of the local garrison forces, security and informants of the war theatre, had long planned to introduce a new garrison tribe to help maintain order in Lanu. However, he lacked cadets and funding. The war theatre prioritised matters of war and the formation of the garrison tribe could only start after General Birkin's 4th Monolith folk, now renamed 3rd Monolith, was complete.

But following the folk's completion, news of Claude's victory in the third colonial war spread. Given the serious casualties suffered by Thundercrash, they had priority over the new recruits, much to Saljorak's frustration. However, he didn't have a choice. Frontline troops always held higher priority over local security forces.

Saljorak had submitted the request to form a garrison tribe in Lanu for the third time right before the position shift, so Claude couldn't be bothered with it. The new field marshal, Aljess, wasn't that interested in local matters either and was more concerned by 3rd Monolith's combat prowess as well as his own royal guard troops. He couldn't wait to conquer Port Vebator and get it over with.

It was only after the attempted break in of his home that Claude felt that the security endemic had to be dealt with once and for all. The fact that someone would dare to come after the home of the corpsman of Thundercrash spoke volumes about the town's pitiful state.

Gum had two sharpshooters stationed at the highest floor of the manor every night just in case. Unexpectedly, they were put to good use that night. The one who fired the shot was brought to Claude and he said that the three figures crossed the walls after the patrol unit passed by.

It just so happened that the moon was unobstructed by the clouds, so he was able to see the three figures clearly as they climbed over the walls. Right after he fired, the clouds blocked the moonlight once more, so he didn't manage to see whether they escaped or went into the manor to hide. However, he could be sure that his shot hit one of the intruders.

Later, they found a small blood trail near the manor's wall. It looked like the three had climbed over the wall once more to escape. However, Claude still personally searched the manor with his men and shook the place up through the night.

The next day, Saljorak received word and came over immediately. Claude returned to headquarters with him. When Aljess heard about the matter, he generously approved 20 thousand crowns for the formation of the garrison tribe and asked them to restore order to Lanu as quickly as possible.

When Claude returned to his manor, he found Weyblon there with three black kratt hunting dogs. With them there, they no longer had to worry about thieves trying to sneak into the manor at night.

Chapter 397 - Ambushed

Since the security matters of Lanu would soon be solved, Claude didn't let his mind linger on the break in. He went to Anna Farmstead and told his sister and Sonia the kind of rifle he would need. As for Liboyd, he was quite troubled, as the old man had recently been enamoured with the hot-air engines and was too caught up researching how mere hot air could move heavy metal pistons like those.

"The kind of rifle I want should look like this," he explained in the lab with a drawing on the blackboard. "It should be about 1.5 metres in length including the stock, 1.8 metres when the bayonet is attached. It will shoot brass cartridges like the revolvers, longer variants of the cartridges, anyway, for more gunpowder capacity to get a longer firing range.

"I can only draw what I roughly envision in my mind. There is nothing else to be added on the barrels save for the sights. The rifle should be reloaded from the breech and have a handle on the right side that is connected to the bolt within. Pulling the handle will open the chamber for the cartridge to be loaded. After shooting, the cartridge will automatically pop out the next time the handle is cocked and the rifle will be ready for the next reload. If possible, I'd like to have a magazine fitted to the bottom of the rifle that can feed up to five bullets at a time.

"After shooting, all we need to do is pull the handle to cock the bolt and let the cartridge pop out. Pushing the handle back will automatically cause the next round in the magazine to be loaded. That way, we can avoid the trouble of loading the rifle one bullet at a time. All we need is a simple pull of the handle. When the magazine is emptied, it can be removed and swapped for a loaded magazine to allow rapid fire.

"Naturally, you don't have to consider the magazine for your initial trials. Try to make a single-loading bolt-action mechanism first. I have trouble imagining how we can even implement such a design, since I'm no engineer, so I can only leave it to you. If you have a better method, feel free to ignore my proposal and focus on your own designs."

While he didn't show it, he almost cursed when he saw his drawing. It looked quite similar to the Type 38 rifle used by the Japanese during the Second World War. However, he didn't have a choice as he was no military nut. He didn't show much interest when his boss on old Earth took him to the shooting range and the only thing he could recall was the Type 38 from all the war films based on that era he watched before.

"Claude, how far is the firing range of the rifles you envision?" Sonia asked like a curious student.

He stroked his chin and said, "I hope these can shoot up to 200 metres accurately while having an effective killing range of 400. The furthest it can shoot should be 500 metres."

Sonia hesitated. "Umm... is that even possible?"

How could it not? It was said that the Type 38 could shoot as far as 800 metres, and an enemy shot within 400 metres would have entry as well as exit wounds. Naturally, he didn't expect to be able to reproduce the gun exactly, but achieving half that range should be an improvement. At least, it should be able to fire further than smoothbore matchlocks.

"Let's go about this step by step. Design the bolt-action mechanism first before we work on improving it. I believe we'll be able to make a rapid-fire rifle that can shoot that far eventually."

Pointing at the drawing on the blackboard, he continued, "Initially, I wanted to make the barrel rotate downwards like the revolvers. The barrel would extend till there and the rear will be where the stock is. Pulling on the handle will open the chamber to the barrel where the bullet can be loaded and pushing the handle will close it back up to reseal the barrel. After shooting, pulling the handle again will open the chamber and cause the spent cartridge to pop out.

"However, I don't know how to design the chamber nor do I know how the handle mechanism is supposed to work to cause the cartridge casing to pop out. Sonia, you're much more experienced than my sister in that department, so think it over. Putting aside the gun stock, the part behind the barrel should be rectangular. That's where all the moving parts should be located."

Sonia nodded. "Alright, I have a general idea."

"Apart from the design of this rifle, I'll also need you to try to research how we can mass produce this stabilised form of gunpowder. If we can make them in large quantities, we can decrease the capacity of gunpowder each cartridge has to hold while increasing the firing range at the same time. We can also modify mortars into hand-tossed grenades that can be thrown further and have more power."

"I know, Claude. Are you going to leave now or are you coming in the next few days as well?"

"Well, we'll be leaving to conquer Port Vebator the day after tomorrow, so I'll be heading to headquarters to deal with some matters. I won't come. I'll come back and check in after we conquer Port Vebator."

"Okay, just wait for a little. I made you a gift," Angelina said as she pulled out a large box from under the table. Within were sets of revolvers with black leather holsters.

"Why are there so many?" he asked, shocked.

Angelina put them out on the table. "Lately, Sis Sonia has been helping me make these using an array. Alongside the three we made, there are ten revolvers in total. In future, we'll no longer have to rely on arrays to do the job. When revolvers can finally be mass produced, these ten prototypes will be really meaningful, according to her."

"So are they all mine?"

Angelina clicked her tongue. "Dream on. I want one, Sis Sonia wants one, Myjack wants one, and so does Blowk. I also want to gift Big Gum with one too. You can only take one of the remaining five. Leave the four here first. We can gift them away to people we owe huge favours to. It's the most precious gift House Ferd can give out."

Claude smiled in resignation and looked at Sonia. She was the one who taught her all about this. Given that she had designed the machines necessary for mass production, she knew the real value those prototypes would hold.

"Then, which one is for me?"

"The topmost one with serial number 1," Sonia said.

To think they were even numbered... Claude took the first revolver and took it out of the black holster. He was surprised to find that it had been coated in silver and adorned with some gold-lace patterns. The black revolver had been turned into a piece of fine art. The largest change was the wooden handle; it had been replaced with two pieces of yellowish ivory engraved with a simple picture of a working farmer. The words below the picture read: Ferd Revolver (1).

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thankfully, you didn't make it entirely gold. Otherwise, I wouldn't dare carry it on me. Then again, Anna, what's with this farmer?"

Sonia said, "Claude, did you forget that your family name, Ferd, means 'farmer' in Ancient Hez? Since you created it, we named it after you."

"Alright. A farmer's revolver... I like the sound of that. If you can design the rifle to my specifications, I can use your family names, or even your own name for them. How does Sonia 591 Newtype Rifle sound?"

"Why is there a 591 in there?" she asked.

He explained, "It's the year of creation. Currently, it's Year 590 of the Sacred Light Era. If you can finish this rifle by next year, then the number will be 591. If it's the year after, it'll be 592. It's a rather simple numbering system."

"Oh, I see..." She found it to be a magnificent naming scheme.

Angelina knew that she would only be playing the role of assistant to Sonia during the design of the new rifle, so she didn't argue about the naming. "Take this too," she said, handing him another small black leather bag, one that could be slung on his belt.

"What is this?" He opened it to find six identical silver chamber wheels, all loaded with brass cartridges.

"These are the bullets Anne spent lots of effort making for you. Each revolver comes with six extra chamber wheels, all loaded, so they have 42 bullets in total. Behind the wheels are small pieces of bone to prevent shock. Make sure to remove it when you swamp the wheel in," Sonia said.

He was quite satisfied with it. Now, he had his own sidearm.

"Call Big Gum in. The revolver numbered 10 is for him," Angelina said.

Gum was quite elated. He didn't think Angelina would take him into account and make one revolver for him personally. He was smiling the whole way rather stupidly. Claude knew that his sister saw Gum as family and also hoped that he could help keep Claude safe.

"Gum, don't forget that this gun has a safety, over here, the one shaped like a hook. If you push it up, the hammer will be able to move when you pull the trigger. If you push it down, the trigger can't be pulled. It's to prevent a misfire, understood?" she explained as she demonstrated the safety mechanism to him.

He nodded with his face full of smiles. Just like Claude, he got a sack of bullets.

Two days soon passed and the day to conquer Port Vebator was upon them. Claude got up early in the morning, kissed his wife and children and hugged his mother before bidding them goodbye, not before promising that he would make sure Bloweyk would return alive and healthy. After that, Alek and the servants sent his carriage off. Gum and his guards escorted him to headquarters.

During this excursion, Claude was to join General Aljess, the field marshal, who led the royal guard folk that had been resting and reorganising for half a month, General Birkin of 3rd Monolith, and General Sevict, who led two combat lines from 2nd Monolith. They would meet up with general Bolonik and 1st Monolith's two main combat lines at Dorinibla River before heading to Wickhamsburg to join up with Thundercrash.

After that, Claude would lead one Thundercrash folk on the attack. Perhaps he would be sitting on the sidelines, watching the royal guard folk take the city so that Aljess could finally get the merit he needed to be promoted to Lord Militant and put an end to the colonial conflict that had lasted more than four years once and for all.

In the morning, Claude had to participate in a formal ceremony in war theatre headquarters before leaving with Aljess. When he was halfway there, a signaller from Aljess came bearing his message to get Claude to head to the main plaza of Lanu directly. That was where the ceremony would be held. He, Birkin, Skri, and Sevict were already there.

Claude felt his head hurt. There was a small plaza in front of the headquarters. They could've just gone with a simple ceremony there, but Aljess and the high-ranking officers of the royal guard loved spectacle and wanted to make the bravery of the royal guard folk known. So, they decided to move the venue to the larger city plaza. Claude suspected that they would even be giving speeches and holding a parade.

It really bothered him, given that he didn't like to be in the spotlight at all. Couldn't they have just deployed with a low profile? Claude told the coachman of the change in destination. The larger plaza was newly built following Lanu's expansion and was located to the west of the city. It would take him another 20 plus minutes to get there.

When the plaza was in sight, the number of people on the streets increased. Most of them were there to witness the ceremony. Given the relative lack of entertainment in their times, an occasion like that was rather rare and easily drew crowds. The carriage and the guards had no choice but to slow down due to the dense crowd.

Just as they were about to enter the plaza, a hawker's donkey-pulled cart and a carriage filled with people collided. The two sides argued fiercely. Annoyed, Gum sent two guards to chase them away to get the road to clear up. However, the brats sitting in the carriage actually pushed back at the guards while cursing nonstop.

"Send four more to arrest those brats," Gum instructed with a dark look.

Claude's patience was running thin as he sat in his carriage. Just as he opened the door and saw Gum approaching the carriage to tell him something, his expression warped. His heart rate rocketed as he saw in the corner of his eye some 40 metres away a man in a grey hood with a wooden cane in his hand pointed at his carriage. A large, flaming ball came flying towards him.

"Fireball... A magus?" Before Claude could snap out of his stupor, Gum pulled on his shirt and slammed him harshly on the ground. The next thing he felt was the crushing weight of Gum's body.

Boom! Claude felt his head spin. It seemed like he had suffered a heavy blow. His chest was tight and his mouth and nostrils were filled with dust from the ground. Soon, his hearing recovered and he heard the startled cries, shouts, and sobs, as well as the crackling sound of something burning.

Did he get ambushed by a magus? He still hadn't grasped the reality of the situation. But then, he felt a warmth flowing down his neck and immediately recalled Gum being on top of him. He pushed him over immediately.

Turning to look, he saw that his carriage had been obliterated by the fireball. The insides of the coach was burning and a cloud of dust was beaten up into the air. The guards beside him were on the ground and trying to get up and clear their minds. The mounts were gone and Gum was lying in a pool of blood.

"He's not dead yet! Over there!" a foreign voice shouted in the distant street.

Claude realised that he couldn't even recall the spells in his mind. The only thing he did was to lean himself against the wheel of the carriage and take out his revolver.

Chapter 398 - Assassination

"G-general... are you alright?" a dizzy soldier who remembered his duty asked as he stumbled towards Claude.

Just as Claude was about to speak, he saw a flash of light in the air. A terrifying gash appeared from the soldier's left shoulder to his right lower abdomen. It was as if he had been bisected by an axe.

"Ugh..." He didn't even manage to cry out loud and fell to the ground, unmoving. Blood began to flow out of the wound on his chest.

Windblade! he thought in shock. It was a legendary combat spell. He had indeed been assailed by a magus. Even though he didn't know the reason, he was now at death's door.

What... what should I use... He finally regained some semblance of clarity. Magic Missile... He looked at his revolver. Oh, I still have Energy Barrier. It's crucial for a battle between magi. Now, he no longer cared about outing himself as a magus and immediately used his mana to channel the basic spell in his second hexagram within his void space in preparation of casting a barrier on himself.

"E-enemy attack!" The other three guards behind crawled back up. The only takeaway from seeing their comrade fall dead was that they were under attack. The soldiers kneeled on the ground on one knee and immediately raised their muskets to fire at the figure ahead. However, they only noticed when they pulled the trigger that the slow matches on their muskets had been extinguished by the shockwave from the explosion when the ball of fire struck the carriage.

Just as the guard was about to take a piece of flint out to reignite the match, a long, green, watery arrow impaled him from afar. Halfway through his body, the arrow turned into a stream of water and came splattering out along with his blood. The guard dropped his musket, clutched the wound on his chest and slumped to the ground.

This is... W-waterjet! He cast Energy Barrier on himself with great difficulty amidst all that shuddering and finally felt some relief. However, he didn't know what he had done to cause so many magi to come troubling him. Fireball, Windblade and Waterjet weren't all cast by the same magus. No magus would pick three attack spells with different elemental attributes. Normal magi would only pick spells that suited the element they had the best affinity with for optimal power and efficiency. Claude's Magic Missile, on the other hand, had no elemental aspect.

The two guards behind ended up no different than those ahead. One of them had his slow match extinguished, while the other's snapped and he was just about to switch out and light a new one. At that moment, the guard ahead fell to the ground and put on his bayonet before charging in to act as cover for his comrade to light the slow match.

When he was only some ten steps away, the charging guard thrust his musket towards the two figures. He was definitely not thinking clearly, for him to be making his approach without the slightest bit of subtlety. He was enraged after witnessing the deaths of his two comrades and had used up all his energy in that one thrust.

The two figures saw the charging guard. However, the one in front didn't appear panicked in the slightest and remained standing. The other figure beside him, on the other hand, stopped in his tracks, raised his hand, and began chanting.

"Kill!" the guard yelled. Shockingly, a bubble seemed to appear in front of his bayonet and stopped his strike. The point of the blade was less than an inch from the figure, but it couldn't be pushed forward no matter what.

The guard was immediately stunned. Before he knew what was going on, the man in front let out a savage smile and swung his large robe. The guard's vision blacked out as he fell into eternal darkness.

Claude, however, could clearly see that a long, wooden stake came piercing through the charging guard's head after the figure in front of him waved his hand. The figure behind had stopped chanting and a watery, crystal glow formed in his raised right hand. In a flash, a red hole appeared on the face of the guard behind who was loading his gun before he fell silently to the ground and stained it crimson.

All that happened within a few short moments. Claude glared at them and furiously pulled his trigger, only to notice that it bore the weight of the thousand mountains. He wasn't able to pull it down no matter what. It just occurred to him that he hadn't toggled his safety.

The two figures moved quickly and were upon Claude. They were only five metres away. With the cloud of dust mostly settled, vision was restored.

"He alone is worth 100 thousand gold keptons? This prize money is too easy to claim." The grey-robed man in front was a middle-aged man. He smiled when he saw Claude in his general's uniform.

Claude aimed his toggled revolver at the man, but he didn't panic at all and continued chatting to the figure behind him. "Do you think he's shocked stupid by us? He even forgot to fasten a slow match to his short-barrel! Is he trying to bluff us?"

Claude calmly looked at the two and asked, "Who hired you to kill me?"

The man laughed. "Since you're about to die, I'll let you know who. The Shiksan king, Majid III, offered us 100 thousand gold keptons for your head. Now that you know, time to die."

Just as he raised his hand, Claude pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Bang! Smoke wafted out from the barrel of his revolver. He watched as the transparent bubble of the middle-aged man flash and shatter. A black, finger-sized hole appeared on the man's forehead as his body stiffened while he fell backwards, crashing towards the ground.

"Kyaah!" a high-pitched voice cried out. The magus behind him was a woman. She immediately thrust her right hand at Claude as she chanted something. Perhaps she thought Claude's gun was a single-shot short-barreled musket, so she began her chant without taking cover at all, simply standing there.

Another bang resounded and the female magus fell to the ground with a look of unwillingness on her face.

"Darn, why does he have two short barrels?" bellowed a figure in the distance as he swung his hand. Claude watched as a bright and transparent blade came towards him at a speed he couldn't avoid.

A transparent barrier appeared in front of him; it looked just like the moment when the middle-aged magus was about to be impaled by the bayonet. The barrier blocked the blade, but it flashed rapidly as if it was about to shatter at any moment.

"Darn it, how could he have an Energy Barrier?!" The magus who cast Windblade was stunned. Just as he was about to charge, he stopped. Claude cocked the hammer with his left hand and motioned his right hand to line the sights up with the magus. However, his next shot didn't strike him, only barely grazing the magus' thigh.

"His gun... can actually fire consecutively..."

He turned to run immediately, but Claude had immediately cocked the hammer and shot twice in succession. the first shot got the magus' left shoulder and the next went through the back of his heart. The magus fell and struggled on the ground.

The magus who used Fireball still remained. Claude turned to the spot the Fireball came from, but saw nothing. He swept his gaze through the streets, only to see them emptied out. Nothing but groans of pain could be heard near the carriage.

He circled around the carriage with his revolver in hand and saw a dead horse with two guards in a pool of blood. Unlike the four killed guards who fell from their horses due to the shockwave and regained their bearings, only to be snuffed off by the magi, they had been heavily injured and burned by the initial explosion.

The coachman was dead; he was the worst off. The fireball tore half his body away during the explosion and left only one leg on the seat of the carriage. Recalling that there were six guards in front that attempted to resolve the conflict that put a stop to their trip in the first place, Claude looked ahead. Given the chaos that ensued, they should've been running back towards him.

But he felt a chill down his spine at the sight of what was in front of him. The six guards were already in a pool of blood. Three grey-robed figures were already charging in his direction.

WIth a fizzle, he felt a shock from behind and saw his barrier shimmer and flash. He turned around and saw that the magus that cast Fireball was at the entrance of an alley some 30 metres away, as well as a colourless projectile coming his way.

It was Magic Missile, but a tier-zero spell like that wasn't able to breach his barrier at all. He raised his gun to aim and the magus attempted to dodge. After a loud bang, the magus cried in pain as blood spurted out of his right leg while he dashed deeper into the alley. Claude cocked the hammer again and pulled the trigger, but was met with only a dull click.

He had emptied his rounds. He hurriedly reached for his black leather sack for a fresh wheel and cracked the revolver open. Just as he was about to pop the wheel in, he recalled the piece of bone. He put the wheel on the ground to free up one hand to remove the bone before popping the new wheel into his revolver.

As he loaded his gun with his head low, the three figures shot two barrages of spells towards him, but he couldn't be bothered with them. He could only bet that his barrier would hold up.

It turned out he wagered his chips on the right bet. Two of the grey-robed magi used Magic Missiles, which Claude's barrier took graciously. The other used Windblade and it caused his barrier to flash rapidly and dull. Though on the brink of collapse, it did manage to hold on.

"His Energy Barrier is merely a tier-one spell scroll! Break it and he'll be dead!" the Fireball magus cried from inside the alley once he made it behind a turn.

Claude ignored him. Since he had finished reloading, he would deal with the three fearless magi that charged at him. He turned around, knelt on one knee, and cocked the hammer with his left hand while raising his right. He aimed the revolver and pulled the trigger.

They were fighting within a short distance of 20 metres, Claude versus three magi. The moment he fired, the magi used tier-one spells. There were two Windblades and one Waterjet.

Bang! He repeated the same series of actions and fired all six rounds away. The first bullet hit the magus in the middle, causing him to fall backwards. The next to fall was the shorter magus to the left. He took two shots; he had attempted to cast another spell after being hit once, but Claude didn't give him that chance. The second shot struck his heart and fell him for good.

The lankier, taller magus to the right took all three of Claude's shots as he had tried to escape. He seemed rather cowardly. When he saw that his two comrades had been shot dead, he no longer cared that his Waterjet had hit its target and turned to run.

Claude missed his first shot when he was struck. The second shot hit the upper thigh of the magus. Seeing the magus continue to run while dragging his leg and exposing his back, he didn't ignore his goodwill and took a deep breath and fired a stable shot. The last bullet felled his target.

He didn't fare that well himself. All the spells the magi used were tier one. When the first Windblade hit his barrier, it managed to barely hold on. The second shattered the barrier and affected his aim, leaving a long wound across his left arm and causing him to miss the magus' vitals, which necessitate another follow-up shot.

Fortunately, the cowardly magus' hand shook after seeing his two comrades dead. His aim waned and the Waterjet didn't pierce Claude's heart, striking his lower-right abdomen instead.

Had he been braver and instant cast another Magic Missile, Claude might've been the one who ended up dead. However, he chickened out at the sight of his fallen comrades and turned tail to run, giving Claude plenty time to aim and fire his last three shots despite the great pain he felt.

He clutched his Waterjet wound with his left hand and dropped his revolver. The pain rendered him powerless and numb. While he was aware there was another magus hiding in the alley, he no longer had the energy to cast another Energy Barrier nor reload his revolver.

He struggled to turn around and saw the magus outside the alley with a bright ball of red forming in his hand, growing increasingly bigger.

Claude suddenly felt like laughing. The magus had truly gone out of his way unnecessarily. Had he known that the two Windblades had shattered Claude's barrier and left him injured after his exchange with the three other magi, he wouldn't have chosen to use a tier-two spell like Explosive Fireball.

He could easily have snuffed Claude's life out with a Magic Missile. There really wasn't a need for Explosive Fireball, unless, he was worried Claude still had an Energy Barrier on.

The moment Claude saw the magus swing his hand from the corner of his eye, sending the fireball towards him, he grit his teeth and dove forwards, enduring the pain. The next thing he felt was a wave of heat before he was sent flying through the air some five metres away. Right before he blacked out, he seemed to have heard two gunshots...

Chapter 399 - Loss

Claude opened his heavy eyes to find himself in a familiar room. His whole body hurt, badly. It was as if he was bound tightly. He couldn't even move his fingers. He tried to speak... and realised he didn't have the strength. A face appeared in front of him. He couldn't tell whose it was. Then, a strong feeling of fatigue washed over him and he closed his eyes as he slipped back into the darkness.

He couldn't remember when he had regained consciousness. It felt as if he had returned to his past life and once more became the university graduate named Chen Xi. His memories from his past life flashed through his mind, from the time he got his job after graduation, went to a marriage meeting and fell in love, witnessed his marriage derail, joined his boss after the divorce and went frolicking around with the urban women in red-light districts. His peaceful and modern life felt like it had occurred yesterday, still fresh in ihs mind.

His memories were scrambled from that point on. He saw how badly he got along with his elder brother, recalled the lessons of his father, and his loving siblings. The part he had the deepest impression of was his military career. At one point, he returned to his days on the battlefield, marching in line towards the enemies or hiding in ambush for the enemy mounted scouts. He also found himself ordering his men to fire the cannons. They all flashed in front of him as if he was rewinding the film reel of his life.

The first thought that occurred to him when everything blacked out once more was whether he was dead. There was neither time nor sound in that space. He felt like he was floating in the air without any purpose or direction. Some time after, he saw a light finally poke out from the darkness. In the end, the light became a beam. He ran towards it and blended in with the bright light.

When he next opened his eyes, he saw that it was around morning based on the illumination in the room. He realised that he was in his familiar bedroom in Weyblon Manor. He was lying on the flower-engraved wooden bed with almost a century of history. However, his room had been slightly remodelled into a sick ward. Apart from the table at his windowsill, the other furniture had been moved away. The room seemed rather empty.

He felt discomfort in his throat and numbness in his tongue. Licking his lips, he was suddenly reminded of his thirst. He opened his mouth and let out a croak. He tried hard to turn his neck and immediately saw a pale face filled with joy.

"You're... you're awake, Claude..." The woman leapt to the bedside and stroked his face.

"K-kefnie... I... I need water..."

"Oh, water. I... I'll get it immediately."

She got up in a hurry and went to the desk by the window to fetch a silver kettle. Soon, she poured him some warm water, put it on the rack of the bed, and carefully helped him sit up. She lent him her soft shoulder to lean on and fed him the water slowly.

He drank most of it and the warmth filled his body with comfort. His mind began to clear.

"Do you want more?" she asked carefully.

He shook his head slowly and shut his eyes, lying in her embrace for a moment.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Kefnie. Can you tell me how long it's been since I was hurt?"

She broke into tears and hugged him tightly.

"D-did you know w-when you were brought back... all bloody... we were all shocked. I... I even thought you had left me... our children... then Doctor Perunt rushed over and fed you a healing potion before treating your wounds. He said that if you wake up in half a month you can be saved. Thank the war god's grace you woke up after eleven days..."

He understood where the discomfort in his mouth came from. It was thanks to the concoction he was forced to drink. It was a concoction fed to unconscious soldiers to ensure their body would be able to absorb enough nutrients to sustain life. That way, they wouldn't die from lacking in crucial nutrients when they were out cold. He had tasted the concoction before and to say it tasted horrid was an understatement.

There were still mild pangs of pain from various parts of his body, and his chest also felt rather heavy. He felt a little like throwing up after drinking warm water. Kefnie, feeling his discomfort, immediately laid him back down. "Wait for a while. I'll call Anna here."

She dashed out of the room like the breeze, much to his resignation. He hadn't even gotten to ask how badly he had been injured. All he managed to see when he was held up was the towel that covered him. He could tell that his legs were fastened to splints and his chest was wrapped up like a mummy's, so he knew the wounds were far from light. At least, he didn't seem to be lacking any appendages, something for which he took comfort in.

Rushed footsteps sounded from outside and Angelina barged into the room. Seeing Claude looking at her with his own two eyes, she let her tears gush and fall towards the ground.

She slowly approached the bed and whispered, "Claude, are you awake?"

He struggled to move his lips and smiled.

"Yes, I'm conscious, thanks in no small part to the revolver you made. By the way... why am I healing at home instead of the infirmary in headquarters? Also, why are you here as my healer? Has the infirmary moved to the frontlines already?"

Angelina pretended to lower her head and hide her face as she wiped her tears off, but she showed Claude her real expression.

"Mother, Kefnie, and I requested to have you released to recover at home so we can care for you. Doctor Perunt is the healer responsible for you, since his skills in the craft are better than mine and can concoct more effective medicines. However, he's quite busy and can only visit you from time to time. Now that you're awake, I'll notify headquarters about it."

After that, she started giving him a physical check. She only breathed a sigh of relief after making sure that his wounds didn't show any signs of worsening. He was also informed about his injuries. Both his legs were broken and his back suffered heavy burns thanks to the Explosive Fireball. His right abdomen was also punctured and his left forearm suffered a cut. Coupled with the shock his innards sustained, it was quite lucky he didn't die just there.

He wanted to know how he managed to escape being roasted to death by the last spell used by the magus. Angelina told him that Gum had saved him. He was awakened by the second Fireball. Ignoring his injuries, he shot the magus dead with his revolver as he was trying to check whether Claude was still alive. Then, he gave the unconscious Claude a perfect-quality healing potion Angelina concocted and endured the pain to carry him onto the carriage and send him back to Weyblon Manor.

But why did he send Claude back all the way? Headquarters was just nearby the plaza, so wouldn't it be more appropriate to send him there? There wasn't a need to go so far.

Though he wanted to ask more, he felt really tired after going along with the check, so he soon fell back asleep.

When he reawakened, he felt really hungry. He opened his eyes only to see that it was nighttime. The candle in his bedroom was still lit and his movements alerted the caretaker on duty. Not long after, Angelina, Kefnie and his mother showed up. He only just found out that the caretaker was Myjack.

His wife fed him some herbal egg porridge. Though it tasted funny, it did give him some energy. He turned to Myjack and asked, "Why have you come? Isn't Tribe 131 supposed to work with the royal guard folk to take Port Vebator? It's a great opportunity for you to get merit."

"General, after we received word by carrier eagle about the attempt on your life, General Eiblont immediately ordered me to take Tribe 131 back to Lanu to protect you. Your safety is my priority now, not merit."

Myjack really knew how to talk him up. After forsaking the task of helping take the port, Myjack would have to waste a few years before he would be promoted to colonel. The war would end after the last siege, anyway, and without any more chances to gain merits, promotion would no longer be as easy.

"By the way, how is Gum doing?" he asked.

Angelina said, "He's doing a little bit better than you. He's recovering in the guest room downstairs. I'm his healer."

Claude felt relieved. It was the first assassination attempt he experienced and all the guards, including Gum and the coachman had suffered serious wounds. Fortunately, Claude, Gum and two heavily injured guards survived.

Kefnie left to accompany her two children to sleep. Then, it was his mother's turn to nag at him. After putting up with her, he drunk another bottle of healing potion with his sister's help and gradually fell back to sleep.

Morning the next day, he woke up to find that it was Bloweyk's turn to look after him. He finished another bowl of herbal egg porridge. His wife helped him clean up the waste he excreted and change the sheets. Bloweyk had come from headquarters with the chief of the infirmary, Doctor Perunt. After some cursory checks, visitors from headquarters arrived.

General Skri came in first with a sash holding up his left arm, followed by General Saljorak and General Bolonik.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be leading the two main tribes of 1st Monolith to aid General Aljess in battle?" he asked Bolonik.

However, he immediately noticed something amiss. Skri was injured and Bolonik was a picture of defeat. Saljorak seemed like he had aged more than ten years in a night. His face was sunken and his eyes were bloodshot.

"What happened?" What in the world could have made all three generals look so defeated?

"The deployment is called off, Claude. It's over for us," Bolonik said with a pained look.

Skri still kept his calm. "Let me do the explaining."

According to him, all other high-ranking officers that were going to attend the grand ceremony were also ambushed. The grey-robed magi were also responsible for that. They split up into two units, one to head towards Aljess and the other towards Claude. However, Claude managed to defeat those that came for him whereas the ones targeting Aljess succeeded.

Aljess died on the spot and Sevict, being just beside him, was heavily injured. Though, he was relatively luckier than Birkin. Even Bernard ended up heavily wounded. Apart from that, the field officers in the war theatre suffered heavy casualties. They had been congregated near Aljess and seven of them died, with nine crippled. Eight of the high-ranking officers of the royal guard folk were killed or hurt too.

Fortunately, Skri wasn't with Aljess at the time. Due to the sudden change in venue for the ceremony, he was busy dealing with the adjustments necessary for the venue change. When he heard the commotion and verified that Aljess and company came under a magi assassination attempt, he immediately sent his men to fight back.

But due to the preparation for the ceremony, all soldiers put their slow matches away. Even the men on guard duty didn't load their muskets up, so they weren't able to respond in time when the attack started. All that could be done was to use the soldiers as human shields to buy time as the magi attacked to let the other troops in the back load their muskets and light their slow matches.

Their initial attempts to stop the magi with bayonets and riding blades were useless. They weren't able to so much as put a scratch on them. The crowd there to witness the ceremony only added to the chaos and confusion. The assassination ended in a complete tragedy.

The sheer number of people hurt from the crowd's stampede numbered more than a thousand, and more than 300 soldiers were hurt or killed in the attempt to stop and capture the magi. Of the eleven magi that came to assassinate them, only five were shot dead in the end.

Claude spat out blood on the spot. Anyone that heard about such a staggering loss wouldn't be able to take the shock. Angelina cried out and Perunt immediately came to check. However, Claude only let him wipe the blood off and stopped him from putting him back to bed to rest.

He now understood why Bolonik and Saljorak looked so dejected. Bolonik had taken over a huge mess. He was the sole person available to take charge of headquarters. Apart from General Eiblont, who was at the frontlines, there was nobody else more apt for the post than Bolonik. Not to mention, he also suffered a great shock when he heard about what happened to his long-time friend, Sevict.

Saljorak, on the other hand, was a side casualty. He would be made the scapegoat for the assassination attempt. After all, he was the one in charge of local security and counterintelligence. Somebody would have to be held accountable for the death of a kingdom's general right before a grand ceremony. Even if it was Aljess' idea to change the venue at short notice, giving the assassins an opportunity to strike, he was all but dead and those left alive would have to bear the consequences of his actions.

The only way for Saljorak to come out of this unscathed would be to capture all the magi that came to assassinate them and interrogate them to find out who the mastermind was. However, it was beyond him. Saljorak's keepers weren't equipped to handle magi, and they would've long escaped after their successful assassination.

Chapter 400 - Greytower Magi and Countermeasures

The incident sent waves through Freia and Nubissia. Claude now knew why Bolonik said it was over for them. Even with Saljorak there to bear the blame, the other generals couldn't shake off responsibility, not even Claude who had been heavily injured by the assassination. At the end of the day, a general and soon-to-be Lord Militant had been killed... a representative of the old nobility in the army no less.

Aueras had been rather unstable internally, with the king in his sickbed and the heir unappointed, which resulted in fierce arguments between the first and second princes. The civilians had also been poor since the last war. Even so, they were still an undeniable powerhouse on Freia. Despite the colonial war with Shiks, they won great respect along with their three victories and were heralded a military superpower.

Yet, now, a general had been killed during a military ceremony right before he received the merit he needed for his promotion. It was utter humiliation for the kingdom, and the assassins were all magi, so no normal soldier could be sent to deal with them.

As long as they could not locate the grey-robed magi, not only would Saljorak have to take most of the blame, even Skri, Bolonik, and the heavily injured Claude, Birkin, Bernard, and even Eiblont in distant Wickhamsburg would be scapegoats. They would also be the target of the old nobility's ire.

"Is there any chance to salvage this? Did we really not capture even a single assassin magi?" Claude asked.

"No. The five magi shot in the plaza were reduced to meat pulp by the soldiers. On your side, there are the corpses of the seven magi," Saljorak said, shaking his head helplessly, "We only locked down the city two hours after the assassination. We've not found a single magi since. We suspect they left Lanu immediately. Only the gods know where they could be now."

Claude felt a headache welling up and asked Angelina to rub his temples.

"In other words, we have no idea where the magi come from."

"No, of this we are well aware," Saljorak answered, "They are the Greytower Magi from Siklos, assassins among the magi. There are countless files on them in the libraries all over Freia. They infiltrate the area near their targets with differing identities and put on grey robes when they carry out their operation. They immediately vanish once its done.

"It's said that among the magi our ancestors drove out of Freia, those who wanted to fight their way back into Freia formed Greytower, the assassin syndicate that carried out this attack. They specialise in killing Freian nobles and generals.

"Our ancestors had various methods of dealing with them, such as temptation, setups, and extermination upon discovery without regard for casualties. Eventually, they were given a fatal blow and they disappeared. This is the first time they've acted in decades.

"We've been fighting them constantly since the magi's fall. Every kingdom has lost at least one high-ranking noble to them. Many have even lost a monarch or two. Every kingdom has some kind of special unit to deal with them. In our case we have the Watch.

"Greytower has been waning, however. Even on Siklos things have been going badly for them. We've been hearing rumours that the island's resources are running out. They can't train enough magi to replace they ones they're losing to old age alone, nevermind acting on Freia. The quality of their agents have been decreasing as a result. It's also taking them longer to train them because of resource shortages.

"They were last seen on Freia sixty years ago when the king of Moloshik and a princess from Lesnia were to be married. Thirty assassins descended on the banquet to kill all the guests. The security were ready for them, however, and they were all killed. We've not had so much as a whiff of their farts on Freia since... not until now.

"We grew suspicious after about twenty years of peace and sent people to Siklos to find out what was going on. They reported that Greytower had given up on the assassination business and had turned their focus on internal Siklosian politics. They'd not changed their rhetoric on Freia, however.

"Despite all the talk, they were very quickly fading away. Their top brass were dying of old age and they couldn't recruit and train enough people to replace them. The latest reports from several years ago had said they'd even lost their influence with the magi council. We'd lowered their threat level as a result. We'd thought they'd disband within another century at most."

Saljorak had done quite a lot of research on the organisation and could even recount their history by mouth. Claude was sceptical.

"Are you certain all the magi are members of Greytower? Not just imposters?"

Saljorak nodded.

"We are certain because the robes are identical to those described in the records. They have a unique insignia. Additionally, the material used to make the robes are unique to Siklos. Sigrui linen and silos sheep wool are not available anywhere else."

It was no wonder so many magi showed up in an instant. What Claude still found weird was how weak the magi were compared to how he imagined them to be. If it were only one or two of them, he could survive them for quite some time even without a revolver with only his abilities as a two-ring magus.

"By the way, when I asked the magi why they came to kill me, they said it was because of prize money. Majid III of Shiks offered them 100 thousand gold keptons for my head," he recounted.

Saljorak's expression warped after hearing that. "That's impossible. General Claude, are you certain those magi said that?"

"I am. The grey-robed magi said they would tell me the truth since I was about to die anyway, so they'd let me pass with a clarity. Why are you so panicked?"

He noted that Saljorak's mood instantly changed.

"General Claude, the Greytower Magi would never kill anyone for money or reward. They only target high-ranking officials or those at the top like kings, dukes or anyone who's a threat to the magi on Siklos. They see themselves as noble and lofty magi. Though they use underhanded methods, it's all for the restoration of their magic civilisation. They would never stoop so low as to do it for money. That's also why it's easy to counter them--" Saljorak smiled in resignation. "--If those magi did say that, does that mean we focused on the wrong target? Or are the magi intentionally trying to confuse us by saying so? There's also the possibility that they've changed their core creed and truly became a for-profit syndicate."

Claude looked at Bolonik and Skri.

"Did you report the incident to the capital?"

Bolonik nodded.

"We did. General Skri made the report the next day. Something so huge has to be reported immediately and word should reach the royal capital in a week or so. I also rushed to Lanu for a brief investigation and wrote a detailed incident report. The three of us signed that document."

"What of the royal guard?"

"Not good," Skri answered, "Everyone's on edge. Of their high-ranking officers, two are dead and six are injured. More than 300 of their own died during the fight against the magi. I have to admit that they are far fiercer than the troops from our war theatre. The soldiers of 3rd Monolith were completely terrified and turned tail to run immediately.

"The royal guard delegated their tasks magnificently. They bravely blocked the magi's way at the cost of their own lives for the comrades behind them to load their guns and fire. That was how the five magi were held back and killed. 3rd Monolith fell into total chaos and couldn't even do something so basic as maintain discipline.

"Later, when I asked the men, they said they had been trained in group swarm tactics against magi. It was unique to their corps, since they were usually stationed in the royal capital and had to prevent the attacks of evil magi from Siklos. After the incident, many of them began to panic. They feel like coming to Nubissia was a huge mistake. Not only was their general killed, they wasted their trip."

Claude closed his eyes. The rest thought he was tired and prepared to leave, only to be stopped by him.

He turned to Bolonik and said, "Deploy and take the royal guard folk to conquer Port Vebator."

"What?! How can we deploy now? Everyone's still reeling from shock from the assassination, and the royal guard might not obey my orders! Claude, you can't seriously be taking what the magi said as truth, right? They could be messing with you intentionally. The 100-thousand-kepton bounty on you could be a ruse! If you accuse Shiks for doing so, you might end up a laughing stock! Nobody believes that Greytower kills for money!"

Claude shook his head. Bolonik's greatest strength was his dependability. He was staunch as a monolith when it came to defence. However, it was also his greatest weakness. His indecision would cause him to miss out on any opportunities that presented itself on the battlefield.

"We have to take it as fact," Claude resolutely said, "I've thought it over and can't imagine who would send so many magi out to kill the generals in the theatre other than Majid III.

"It's simple. Shiks is the only faction to benefit from this assassination. I would believe it if someone wanted General Aljess dead for a personal vendetta. Perhaps the kingdom or even some in the old nobility don't want him to be promoted to Lord Militant. Even so, I doubt they would hire so many magi to do this.

"On another note, I simply don't understand why they would come for me. While I'm a lieutenant-general of the kingdom, there are more than a hundred of those who bear my rank. I'm also not a corpsman of the main standing corps and am posted far away from the kingdom in Nubissia. I can't even approach the core power structure of the kingdom. Even the corpsmen of the irregular corps there have more say than me and a more extensive network.

"I simply don't even qualify to be a target of such a large-scale assassination conducted by anyone in the kingdom. Even if I personally offended some bigwig, they wouldn't send seven magi to kill me alone. So, I believe the reason the magi gave to be true. I was the one responsible for the downfall of the three Shiksan standing corps. That is why Majid III's willing to pay 100 thousand keptons for my head.

"Additionally, people other than me are also targets. There's General Aljess, General Sevict, and so on. The reason they want us dead is clear: Shiks wants to buy time and keep Port Vebator, since that's what General Aljess' objective is. I believe Shiks knows.

"With him dead, the deployment is done for. All we can do is wait for the capital's final decision. It'll take at least half a year for any decision to be made by communication between two continents, and Shiks would be able to keep their port without worrying about an attack from us.

"With half a year, Majid III might be able to quell the rebellion in the Shiksan heartland and rebuild his armies to be sent to Port Vebator to continue the colonial conflict. Our kingdom would then lose the opportune moment to take the port. If our current state shifts yet again and we end up unable to resist the Shiksan advance and lose more territory, we'd no doubt be blamed for the losses in the colonial wars."

Skri nodded. "Claude's right. We can't let the assassination affect our plans to retake the port. The kingdom needs the colonial wars to end as soon as possible. It can't drag on. We can also use this as a reason to strengthen our troops' morale. We'll say the Shiksans paid a bounty for the lives of a few generals in the war theatre. Since Claude's bounty is 100 thousand keptons, we'll say General Aljess' is 300 thousand. We'll tell them the enemy intends to buy time and delay our attack on Port Vebator.

"Additionally, the royal guard folk came all the way here for merits. While General Aljess has fallen, many of the officers he brought along are descendants from old nobility. I believe they would go along with the attack if we frame it as avenging the general. They'll definitely obey your orders then, as their trip will really have been for naught if they just return like that."

Chapter 401 - Thoughts and Self-preservation

Bolonik listened to Claude's suggestion and left silently with the royal guard folk for Port Vebator. It was a measure of self-preservation. Skri was right in that given their predicament, it would be better to await punishment after doing something praiseworthy first. At least it would end much better for them if they raked in another contribution for the kingdom.

Claude's analysis helped Bolonik firm his decision. In some sense, the few generals in the war theatre were Miselk's disciples and were loyal to the first prince. It was too bad Prince Hansbach only favoured the Lord Militant and didn't pay that much heed to the rest in the war theatre.

Ever since Miselk was injured during that assassination attempt and began his recovery, it was clear that the prince hadn't paid the slightest bit of concern on the war theatre at all. Otherwise, he wouldn't send General Aljess to Nubissia to become the field marshal and claim the merit from conquering Port Vebator at all. Had Miselk still been with the army, he would definitely hear about the revolt happening within the borders of Shiks and order Claude and the rest to take Port Vebator without waiting half a year for the royal guard folk to arrive.

To put it more frankly, while Claude, Skri and the others were considered to be aligned with the first prince, they were merely small fries in the prince's camp which he didn't pay attention to. Perhaps he believed that Miselk's disciples wouldn't be able to help him much in his cause and weren't worth his care at all.

There was another thing Claude suspected. Could the first prince have intentionally let General Aljess come to Nubissia as a compromise to the old nobility? After all, the first prince's base of support and influence was with the kingdom's army, which he shared with the old nobility. They were two forces competing for influence in the same turf. For instance, many peasant officers that aligned themselves with the first prince didn't get along with the noble officers.

Yet, Aljess managed to lead the royal guard folk to Nubissia without any resistance from the first prince. Even though Claude led Thundercrash to exterminate three standing corps of the enemy and obtained victory in the third colonial war, he was relieved of his position as field marshal by the kingdom and was rewarded with a paltry one-rank promotion and elevated only one honorary Title higher than before. For the first prince to not make a sound about an injustice like that, it was clear that he had abandoned the generals in the war theatre. Though, it could also be said that since the prince saw them as people on his side, they could afford to suffer a little for his sake.

That was the reason Claude decided to cooperate with General Aljess after getting word of it from Weyblon. While the general was a member of old nobility and Claude was of a peasant background, that didn't mean he was obligated to fight him to the end. He was a lieutenant-general of the kingdom, after all, and was quite the attractive prospect to many others out there. Since the first prince didn't take him seriously, it only showed that he wasn't that good a judge of talent in the end.

So, Claude immediately agreed when Aljess wanted to purchase the rights to produce mortars without being the slightest bit unwilling, gaining the general's favour. During the banquet that night, they talked up to two hours and Aljess revealed much about the things that happened behind the scenes in the royal capital, allowing him to understand how truly dire the power struggle between the two princes actually was.

He still remembered Aljess' assessment on Prince Hansbach. He believed that while the prince was known for appreciating talent, that was only limited to low-ranking officers in the army. His strength lay in promoting high-performing soldiers into junior officers, something which was unrivaled in the kingdom.

It was too bad that after the officers of whom he had taken notice relied on their own abilities and got promoted to the ranks of field officers, the first prince stopped involving himself personally in their promotions or outright forgot they even existed. He still saw those he promoted as the little soldiers they were back then. He punished them without reservation when needed and didn't show them any courtesy at all.

Humans were really complex creatures with their own desires and thoughts. The soldiers who were promoted by the first prince to junior officer positions would naturally feel thankful and pledge their loyalty to him. But in the following decade of service after that, not all the officers were given equal care by the first prince. When they eventually became high-ranking officers, they began to hold their own aspirations, whether it be wealth or political power befitting of their status.

However, the first prince wouldn't care about something like that. He still ordered the officers around like they were mere privates and joked around at their expense without reservation. While he might think of it as an expression of closeness and familiarity, some high-ranking officers took that as insults to their character. The first prince simply didn't care about how his actions made them look. Additionally, those that end up promoted to become high-ranking officers weren't simple. They were the cream of the crop. Even though they were from peasant backgrounds, they wouldn't be that straight laced by the time they became high-ranking officers. Some were even willing to get along with noble officers.

Yet, the first prince considered it a betrayal against his person. He didn't think about the kinds of difficulties and troubles faced by the officers. In the end, he drove most of the high-ranking officers away. That was why Aljess concluded that while the first prince had a great support base among the lower-ranked officers, quite a number of high-ranking ones detested him.

While he was a capable commander, he was far from a great leader. Claude was a little surprised to hear that coming from Aljess, but it sounded reasonable. When Ranger folk was stationed near the capital, the first prince would often visit their camp and even joke around with Claude and the rest. But ever since the formation of the five enhanced folks in the colonies, he no longer cared about them in the slightest. It was as if he didn't know that the core members of Ranger had transferred there.

Claude didn't care what kind of compromise or deal the first prince had struck with the old nobility and only cared about doing his part and satisfying the brass' needs. After Aljess conquered Port Vebator and got his promotion to Lord Militant, the colonial conflict would end for good. All Claude had to do after that was send the glorious Lord Militant back to the royal capital and wait for the good news alongside the other generals in the war theatre.

The way he saw it, the ministry of the army would order them to stay put in the colonies to prevent the Shiksans from rising up again. It would be quite a simple assignment. All they had to do was to guard the coastline and prevent the Shiksan navy from docking. After that, he would develop the local area and build up more wealth for his family. He would remain on Nubissia and watch the power struggle of the two princes from the sidelines. It didn't matter to him which one of them took the throne in the end.

At least, that was his initial plan. Now that Aljess was assassinated, everything went to chaos. He motivated his colleagues to proceed with conquering Port Vebator the first thing after he regained consciousness out of self-preservation. Since he was now aware of the first prince's predisposition, he knew he couldn't count on him to put in a good word for them on account of Miselk. The more likely scenario would be the first prince punishing Claude, Bolonik, Skri and the other generals who used to be in charge of the war theatre to appease the anger of the old nobility, essentially throwing them under the proverbial bus.

If they had done as Bolonik suggested and awaited the capital's decision on how to deal with this assassination debacle, the best-case scenario would be demotion. Claude was a lieutenant-general, so a one-rank demotion would make him a major-general. As for Bolonik, Skri, Eiblont and the heavily injured Birkin, they would be demoted from major-general to colonel. It would be much harder for them to cross that wall again in future. As for Saljorak, he would definitely be fired, or worse: convicted and forced to serve ten years of labour.

That was why Port Vebator was their only chance for salvation. Claude made it clear that Bolonik had to lead the royal guard folk to conquer the port, but he also had to do it with the smallest casualties. At least, the noble officers in the folk must not fall on the battlefield. Not only would they gain merit from that, they could also help put in a good word for the generals when they returned to their families. Ideally, Claude and the rest would be able to make up for their blunder with this deed.

Even though they had mortars and could most likely take the port without trouble, Claude still decided to send Myjack along with Tribe 131 and two light-cavalry clans to go along with Bolonik. That way, their safety would be ensured and they wouldn't fall prey to the grey-robed magi once more.

Weyblon Manor was now on full alert. The men of Tribe 131 wouldn't even let so much as a fly through, much to the inconvenience of Claude's family. He decided to send a clan from the tribe to guard Anna Farmstead and leave only one clan in Weyblon Manor. At least now it no longer looked like a heavily fortified military base.

Though he had regained consciousness, he still couldn't move and needed to recuperate for a long time. Perunt said that the two broken legs he suffered would take half a year to recover at least. His burnt back and injured innards would take three months. As for the cut on his left shoulder and the puncture wound near his right abdomen, they would heal in just half a month.

Saljorak came to the manor once more. He was the one working the hardest over the past half month, pulling multiple all-nighters. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed really sleep deprived. Even though he knew that it wouldn't end well for him because of the assassination, he still mustered the resolve to see this matter to the end. He wanted to find proof that Majid III had been the one to hire the Greytower Magi to assassinate them as Claude had suggested.

Currently, he had two pieces of reliable evidence. The first was the two Shiksan informants Saljorak managed to capture after having 3rd Monolith search every corner of Lanu. According to their neighbours, a few days before the incident, a lot of relatives suddenly showed up and lived in the informants' houses. Two of the corpses of the dead magi were identified to be those so-called relatives.

That meant that the magi had lived in the homes of Shiksan informants before the attack was carried out. The second piece of evidence was how the attacks were conducted at different times. The magi targeting Aljess launched their attack early because the team that went for Claude ran into more trouble than they expected and caused a huge commotion. They were forced to act in a rush. That went to show that Aljess wasn't their only target. The fact that Claude was also involved meant that the assassination wasn't ordered by someone with a personal vendetta against Aljess.

Unlike Aljess, Claude had a relatively simple military career and he had no personal grudges against people that would prompt their hiring of seven magi to claim his life. The only party he wronged would be Shiks, given how he almost single handedly obliterated three of their standing corps and completely changed the outlook of the war and even sparking an internal rebellion in Shiks. Nobody but Majid III would have that much hate for him.

Saljorak had come to ask Claude for a testimony. Claude had, after all, killed the seven magi that came for his life, which was easily far more shocking than the fact they came to assassinate him. While he ended up gravely injured as well, that didn't mean he would be left alone. He would have to explain how he killed the seven assassin magi.

Fortunately, he only used Energy Barrier and no other spells throughout the engagement. He could excuse himself as having used a spell scroll or enchanted item for Energy Barrier easily. He also got Bloweyk to hand in two items: a ruined silver necklace and a revolver.

"This silver necklace was something I bought from the black market of Efenasburg while I was on the way to visit my family after the war ended. It cost me 12 crowns and the owner told me that it was made by the magus appointed by Duke Sidins for his lover's younger brother. The necklace contains a magical barrier that activates right before an attack spell strikes to prevent the wearer from sustaining any harm."

He seemed really emotionally charged as he gave his anecdote. "I only noticed that I had been scammed. The necklace does indeed have a magical barrier of sorts, but it shattered after taking only three hits. Even the necklace ended up like that. Had it not been for my rapid-fire revolver, I would've died by the grey-robed magi's hands..."

Saljorak took out a few more documents, all eyewitness testimonies from the crowd who saw Claude kill the seven magi. After making sure that his testimony lined up with the others', Saljorak breathed a sigh of relief and began playing around with the revolver. "Claude, I bet you'll be having a huge headache soon enough. I'm sure after this incident wraps up, you'll have lots of bigwigs coming to you with the intent of getting one such revolver with which to defend themselves..."

Chapter 402 - The Royal Capital's Response

On the 26th day after the assassination, word of the terrible incident finally reached the capital. Unsurprisingly, it sent waves through the kingdom. Some initially believed those who wrote the message were pranking them because they were drunk. Such occurrences were hardly unprecedented.

The scribes often wrote down rumours and gossip as a pastime, and sometimes, those messages would be accidentally sent out by carrier eagles and cause lots of trouble. The rumours were rarely more than just embellishments on the truth, however. Nobody was brave enough to fabricate an entire tale.

Five days later, a more detailed report arrived from Nubissia. It wasn't just a report from theatre headquarters. Many related departments sent news that corroborated the new field marshal had been assassinated by grey-robed magi suspected to be part of Greytower.

The capital freaked out. Almost everyone in the city paid attention to the incident. Whether Greytower was actually involved was a huge point of contention. The Watchers in the Night provided concrete evidence to the contrary. Some two or three decades earlier, they had sent people to infiltrate Siklos and discovered fewer than three people remained in the organisation. They were a husk of their glory days' selves. The Watch was quite certain Greytower wasn't behind the assassination.

If that was the case, who could possibly have hired 20 magi for an assassination in the colonies? The second more-detailed report stated that the 12 magi killed during the engagement wore uniform grey robes just like the ones Greytower used during their assassinations. It was quite easy to verify the claim as the various nations of Freia had records on the robes.

However, the various departments didn't dare make a light judgment. It took them half a month of arguments to come to a consensus and send an ambassador to the colonies to investigate this matter. However, there was quite a lot of fighting between the factions about who the investigator should be. When everything was finally decided, 23 days had passed. The first ambassador band was sent to Nubissia.

The target of the investigation would be the former field marshal, Lieutenant-General Claude. While he was reported to have been gravely injured during the attack, how he had incurred his injuries was under heavy scrutiny and scepticism.

General Aljess was at the main plaza with thousands of soldiers participating in the ceremony, yet he was killed. Only five magi died killing him. Claude, on the other hand, had had just a tent of guards and was attacked by seven magi. He lost just ten guards and his coachman whilst killing all seven of his assassins.

The two events happened at the same time, yet the outcomes were completely different. It was no surprise most doubted it was what had really happened. The report did say Claude was so badly injured he required half a year to recover, but who knew if it was faked? A few fringe members of the royal family and generals of the kingdom suggested the assassination could have been an inside job thanks to a power struggle between the two field marshals.

Anyone could make a faked report to cover up the struggle. A few generals and members of the royal family believed the former field marshal hated that Aljess had been sent to take Port Vebator instead of him, so he secretly reached out to rogue magi and had them impersonate Greytower to assassinate Aljess.

The hypothesis was not convincing. Everyone knew the kind of people the royal-family-affiliated generals were. They had a personal grudge against the generals in the theatre. Ranger was now a joke in their hands. Had it not been for the fact that it was funded by the royal family, the ministry of the army would've loved to disband them to not let them humiliate the army even further. Ranger was no different from a gathering spot for thugs and lowlives.

Most people were curious about how the first prince didn't really care for the generals, even though they were supposedly members of his faction. Instead, he believed the ambassador band should set out as soon as possible to wrap up the matter. If the results of the investigation revealed the generals were indeed involved, then they ought to be dealt with without delay. The first prince had his attention fully occupied on the royal palace as Stellin X was growing weaker by the day. It didn't seem like he would survive the next two months.

Surprisingly, however, Second Prince Wedrick did put in a few good words for the generals. He believed the assassination incident couldn't have been related to them. The most obvious proof was how Sevict, who was right beside Aljess at the time, was also killed during the incident. There were also ten-odd high-ranking officers from the theatre who had come to harm, including Birkin and Bernard.

As for the old nobility faction in the ministry, they seemed to be the wisest, choosing not to come to any conclusions. They only urged the ministry to come up with a plan to replace the stopped attack to put an end to the war. They could afford to investigate the assassination slowly, but Port Vebator had to be taken as soon as possible.

Regardless, the ones that made the biggest fuss were the blood relatives of the royals. Given that the ascension of the new king was sure to come soon, the prime minister and many other ministries tolerated those who bore the same surname as the royals, so long as they didn't infringe on their own interests. They allowed them to point fingers however they pleased.

After all, nobody but Stellin IX would be brave enough to send his own relatives to see the war god in the afterlife. It was ironic that Stellin IX slaughtered so many royals to reclaim the lands for the royal family, only to afford those that submitted themselves after the war special care. He also formed a council of elders, whose role was to give their blessing to the next heir of the throne.

Perhaps he believed doing so would legitimise his violent power grab in the eyes of the kingdom's subjects and prevent similar power struggles between his descendants. While the council didn't do much on usual days, they would have lots of bargaining power when the time came for the next heir to ascend the throne.

That was why both Prince Hansbach and Prince Wedrick had to curry favour with the council. The royal capital thus picked a few relatives of the royals to be the ambassadors to research the case and picked a good day to send them towards Whitestag. Laughably, however, the third follow-up report from the colonies came less than six days since the ambassador band's departure.

The report now implicated the Shiksan king, Majid III, as the mastermind behind the incident complete with a few pieces of evidence. The first was testimonies and objects that proved the grey-robed magi infiltrated the houses of Lanu. The second was the fact that the attack on Claude happened slightly sooner than the attack on Aljess, which eliminated the possibility that the mastermind was somebody who had a personal grudge against him.

The final piece of evidence was the answer the magi gave Claude when they were about to kill him. The detailed process of how he managed to kill the seven magi was also provided. There were two items, one broken silver necklace that contained a one-use magic barrier and the new revolver Claude invented which was capable of firing six rounds in quick succession. The testimonies of the witnesses that saw the incident break out from afar were also provided, clearing Claude of all suspicion.

The report also divulged a huge piece of news. General Bolonik of 1st Monolith had led the royal guard folk to conquer Port Vebator so as to not let Majid III's ploy of buying time succeed. The report gave an analysis of the possible reason the assassination was coordinated: the Shiksans were trying to maintain the hold on their port while they quelled the rebellion happening in their heartland. After that, they would send new corps to Nubissia to continue the war.

Most officials of the kingdom felt rather pissed after reading that report. It felt like they had taken a slap square to the face. They received an inference of who the culprit could be right after they sent out their ambassador band.

If the inference wasn't logical, they could simply send a reply to reprimand them for making aimless guesses which could lead to huge shifts in the geopolitics of Freia. Accusing Majid III for sending magi to assassinate the generals in the colonies was a huge deal.

Greytower was publicly known as the most fearsome magi organisation on Siklos. They would use assassination tactics to wipe out talented leaders in the many nations of Freia. Fortunately, there were many obstacles they had to cross to return to Freia, given the number of grudges they formed during their reign of terror that lasted centuries.

But in recent decades, it was said that Greytower was a waning faction on Siklos, which came as quite a relief to the nations on Freia. Yet, word was now that Majid III had hired around 20 grey-robed magi to take action in the colonies. Not only would that put Shiks in a rather perilous position, it would also mean that the other nations had to put their guard up for the magical assassin syndicate had risen from the ashes.

There wasn't a lack of sharp people among the top officials of Aueras. When they read the third report, it occurred to them that there was indeed a rather huge possibility for Majid III to be behind the matter. The inference was quite likely, in fact, eighty percent so, to be right.

Shiks had expressed their stubborn insistence to continue the war with Aueras on Nubissia, after all. So, there was no need for Aueras to hold anything back. The kingdom soon publicised the findings of the third report and the various Freian nations began demanding Shiks for an explanation. Naturally, Majid III outright denied that allegation and called it an Aueran plot against him. The two sides instantly got into quite the argument.

On one hand, the Auerans criticised Shiks and wanted to call their ambassador band back to the royal capital so that they wouldn't have to waste time going to the war theatre to cause trouble. Fortunately, the band didn't travel fast. It took ten days to travel on horseback from the royal capital to Whitestag. As they stopped at every locale to attend welcoming banquets, they only managed a third of their way there before they got the summons to return.

When they were back in the royal capital and got to read the third report, those in the band were still dissatisfied. The generals, who were relatives of the royal family, began to cause trouble. They thought that the war theatre's generals were merely making things up and refused to believe the report. However, the actual people in power in the kingdom couldn't be bothered to deal with their foolish antics, because the generals in the war theatre that survived had made the best decision possible.

No matter whether the capital sent more generals or ambassadors to the theatre, they couldn't have made a better move than the generals there to placate the royal guard folk and take Port Vebator, achieving the strategic objective they had planned long ago instead of completely leaving it in the dust. Additionally, they investigated the assassination and successfully linked it with Majid III.

The top brass was actually rather happy about this. No matter what, the accusation was sound and backed by evidence. Shiks was their enemy and had humiliated their ambassadors before. However, Aueras wasn't able to do much to them save for humiliating them throughout the colonial wars. Now, a rebellion broke out in Shiks and their reputation in Freia began to tank thanks to association with the magi from Siklos. Majid III would definitely be so troubled he would no longer be able to focus his attention on Nubissia.

That way, as long as the conquest of Port Vebator was successful, the colonial war that troubled Aueras so much could finally end. While Shiks still had inland colonies on Nubissia, they were separated by the ocean. The only way for Shiks to keep them colonies would be to surrender to Aueras. Otherwise, they could only stand by as Aueras slowly swallowed their colonies one after another.

Now, the royal capital was forming another band of ambassadors to send to the theatre. Had Claude and the rest waited for the capital to take action, the first band of biased ambassadors would be there to investigate the case.

But since they had done so much to gain the top brass' recognition, the second ambassador band was more balanced. Many of them were representatives from old nobility this time around. Their mission was to deal with the matters of the noble officers killed during the large-scale assassination as well as string up a good relationship with Claude so as to get the weapon he invented that could fire six times in a row.

Chapter 403 - Non-stop News

"The robes from Greytower are standardised like this," Saljorak said during his third visit with the robe in question, "Look, unlike the common robes, Greytower robes have sleeves and collars that open outwards and obsidian buttons. There's one pocket on the left and the right. They look simple, but classic and antiquated.

"Additionally, the robes are made from sigrui linen and silos-sheep wool. Look, this robe glows a little silver in the sunlight. It's thanks to the silvery silos wool. These two materials' sale outside Siklos is forbidden.

"The Greytower robes also have their unique insignia. There's a grey, seven-storey tower on the silver sides of the sleeves, which is the source of their name. There are also two affixed spells on the collars. The left collar has Clean, which can be used thrice a day, and the right has Shadowshift, which allows the robes to shift colour in dark environments. It can be used once every three days.

"Additionally, Greytower magi are used to embroidering their magus rank on their sleeves and underneath the robe, the number of successful assassinations for each magus will be marked with a hexagramal star."

Saljorak pulled out the right sleeve to show two black lines, which meant the former owner of the robe was a two-ring magus. The underside of the robe was rather clean, so it meant that the owner failed on the first assassination assignment he was given.

Claude asked him what rank the strongest magi among those who were killed was, and was told that apart from three that had three black lines on their robes, the rest had two.

He found it rather weird. Would the famous Greytower only send two-ring and three-ring magi on assassination missions? It was no wonder he had a hunch he could defeat two or three magi with only his spells even if he wasn't armed with his revolver.

It was clearly apparent that Saljorak had put in lots of effort into researching the matter lately. He told Claude that according to the information provided by rogue magi living in the colonies in seclusion, Greytower wasn't able to recruit talented members on the island for the past three decades and had stooped to spending time and money training their untalented own into assassin magi. Those that came for Claude were probably the first batch from the organisation's new blood.

Only after that did all of it click for him. It was no wonder he felt those magi were too easy to deal with. They were second-rate among magi after all, not true battlemagi. They were merely expendable assassin magi.

If Claude and Angelina's talent for magic were in the high eighties to nineties, Bloweyk's was only in the sixties to seventies. However, the magi Greytower recruited should measure not more than the fifties. They could learn magic really slowly and didn't have much latent potential.

However, Greytower had no choice but to recruit such mediocre members into their ranks. Even if they progressed slowly, it would still be better than letting the organisation fade into the sands of time. While Siklos was quite large, its population numbered less than a million. The one or two magical prodigies would be recruited long before Greytower would have a chance to take them in and train them into assassins.

Claude, for instance, spent only a year to become a one-ring magus whereas Angelina took only six months. Bloweyk was the worst off, but he still took only 16 months to become a one-ring magus. The islanders recruited by Greytower, on the other hand, required at least three to five years to successfully become one-ring magi, and probably another decade to become two-ringers. It was no wonder they were sent out on a mission despite being only two to three rings strong. The organisation could no longer afford to raise them to four or five rings.

As the two continued to discuss information about Greytower, Skri barged into Claude's sick ward with an eagle message. Though he seemed really agitated, he struggled to soften his voice. "It's from the frontlines. General Bolonik led the royal guard folk, a part of Thundercrash and 1st and 2nd Monolith's four combat lines to Port Vebator and managed to enter the city. They fought a day and night and forced the enemy defenders to surrender. The port has been conquered!"

It lasted almost forty days in total. Not including the time it took to gather the troops for deployment, Bolonik immediately led the troops to besiege the city. Thankfully, everything went without a hitch and they only took a day and two nights to conquer it. It still wasn't known how serious the casualties of the royal guard folk were. Hopefully, Bolonik remembered Claude's reminder to keep their casualties low.

"Is there news from the royal capital?" Claued asked Skri.

"No. The royal capital recalled the first band of ambassadors they were about to send and sent out a second one. We estimate that they should just be boarding the ships in Whitestag's base. It would take them another month at least to make it here. According to last week's updates from Mister Weyblon, not a single member of the first band are in the second band. He believes the new ambassadors aren't coming to give the war theatre any trouble."

Claude breathed a sigh of relief. "All's well as long as they're not here to get us. Now that we've managed to overcome this obstacle, we will have a much better time in the colonies moving forward. We can sit back and relax and watch the showdown about to happen between the two princes in the royal capital. There's no need for us to take sides. We'll just pledge our loyalty to the one who wins."

Skri and Saljorak looked at each other then nodded. Had it not been for Claude's efforts, they would've been doomed if the first ambassador band had made it. At the time, they had Miselk around, so they didn't have to worry about offending the useless royal-family-affiliated generals at all.

Who knew, however, that the situation would change so quickly? Miselk ended up having to recover in seclusion after getting injured during the assassination attempt on Prince Hansbach and those royal generals managed to use the magic assassination as an opportunity to give the war theatre trouble. Had they really come to the war theatre, they would even be able to pick a needle out of the sea.

What worried the generals of the war theatre most was how Prince Hansbach, the man of whose faction they were supposedly in, didn't put in a single good word for them and let the useless royal generals slather accusation after another on them, even alleging that they were the masterminds behind the assassination. Fortunately, the bigwigs in the royal capital stopped the first ambassador band. Otherwise, the generals in the war theatre would be in for nothing good.

It was all thanks to Weyblon and the mining association's help. They fed them information from the royal capital nonstop so that Claude and the rest were able to see how the royal capital responded to the assassination, as well as the attitudes and stances taken by the bigwigs. They were even aware of the members of the ambassador bands. They owed the mining association a huge favour.

Now, it seemed they only had to wait another month or so patiently for the second group of ambassadors to arrive in Lanu and closed the case of the assassination for good. Skri, however, still had to send another report of the successful conquest of Port Vebator to the royal capital. A third group of ambassadors probably had to be sent to settle things in the theatre. After all, the colonial conflict had ended for good and whether the war theatre would be maintained depended on the bigwigs of the kingdom.

Claude could finally rest and recover peacefully. But, roughly a week later, Skri came with another piece of good news. When the royal guard troops scoured Port Vebator, they surprisingly found traces of the magi that escaped. The magi had wanted to resist the angry soldiers of the royal guard and took cover in a building with good terrain, only to be blasted away by three to four mortar rounds. Four of them died on the spot and three were injured from the explosion. They had finally captured some of the magi alive.

It was indeed stellar news. Saljorak had gone to Dorinibla River to await the unit that escorted the three live magi back. He swore he would extract the name of the mastermind from the magi.

However, it didn't matter to Claude. He heard from Perunt that the heavily injured Birkin was recovering at a much better rate than he was and would be able to leave his sickbed in another two months. The civil affairs supervisor, Sir Bernard, on the other hand, was really unlucky and lost his left hand. It was cut off by Windblade during the assassination.

By the time Myjack returned to Claude, the second group of ambassadors were only three to four days away from Lanu. He had travelled along with the escorts of the three living magi captives and injured troops. After handing the captives to Saljorak at Dorinibla River, he hurried to Lanu with the injured.

Claude heard that Bolonik used run-of-the-mill tactics to take Port Vebator. Had it not been for the impressive mortars they had, the last bastion of hope for Shiks to continue the war wouldn't have been taken so easily. That was especially the case during the final battle to take the port. Seaking had seven light warships bombarding the attackers and stopping their advance. They had wanted to keep part of the docks defended.

However, Bolonik was well prepared for them. He deployed the five heavy-siege cannons he took from Port Patres and capitalised on their further firing range to attack the ships and managed to sink five ships. The final two light warships had no choice but to surrender. Without those seven ships, the enemies at the docks were no longer able to hold on and soon surrendered as well, putting a stop to their resistance for good.

Myjack told Claude that his childhood playmate, Borkal, made huge contributions during the battle. All the attack routes had been planned based on the detailed information he provided. He even became their personal guide in some areas. That was how they were able to take the port so quickly. The defenders were surrounded before they knew it and were cut off from the rear. If they didn't surrender, they would have to eat mortar from all directions.

The war theatre suffered around 20 thousand casualties in the siege, with most of them injured and few dead. The units that suffered the most were the four combat lines of 1st and 2nd Monolith. Their casualties numbered to around 60 percent of the total casualties, almost two lines' worth. The rest of the casualties were from Thundercrash and the royal guard folk, the latter of which suffered the least casualties to the point that their officers felt a little embarrassed and took the initiative to take up guard duty in the city.

Everything went smoothly after that. Borkal managed to get information from a local official that defected to join him and passed that information on to the royal guard, who started that investigation and eventually found the escaped magi and surrounded them. A toss of the mortar was all it took to solve all their troubles.

That was what Myjack meant by a huge contribution. Without the information from Borkal, they would've suffered at least double the casualties. Majid III had offered a huge reward to the standing corps, so they wouldn't have surrendered that easily and would've fought much harder.

However, it was all meaningless. The corps defending the port was isolated. They couldn't even leave the city to gather intel on the enemy. Coupled with their inferior military equipment and the mortars Bolonik was armed with, their will to fight was quickly crushed.

With Port Vebator conquered, the grey-robed magi captured and the ambassadors almost arriving in Lanu, Claude decided he could finally get a good rest.

What he didn't expect was three days later after the welcoming banquet in Lanu, one ambassador after another came to Weyblon Manor to visit him and gave him countless priceless gifts. His room was stuffed full of them. He knew for what they were there: the revolver he invented.

Saljorak managed to find time to visit him and told him something rather laughable. The magi finally admitted that they had indeed been hired by Majid III to assassinate the generals in the war theatre.

The funny part was that Claude had the most expensive bounty of 100 thousand gold keptons, whereas Aljess, Bolonik, Skri and the others were worth only 50 thousand. That was why the magi split up and sent seven of them his way.

After the ambassadors received the testimonies from the magi, they broke into a huge argument. They weren't willing to accept the fact that Aljess' bounty was only half of Claude's and were prepared to force the magi to change their testimonies. At the very least, the bounty amount between the two had to be equalised. They insisted that it was something that would affect the late Aljess' honour.

Chapter 404 - Humbling Oneself

Four months had passed since the assassination. Port Vebator had been conquered and General Bolonik was on the way back with the royal guard folk. They left two combat lines from 1st and 2nd Monolith to guard the port against ocean-borne threats. Security on land would be handled by Thundercrash's light-cavalry line.

The capital's representatives had been in Lanu for half a month now and the investigation was more or less finished. All they had to do was wait for Bolonik, Eiblont, and the royal guards to return to close the incident for good and return to the kingdom.

Claude could already get out of bed, but he couldn't walk around yet. His broken legs wouldn't heal that quickly. Gum, on the other hand, had completely recovered and was as strong as a bull. It took him only a month or so in bed to recover. Per Claude's request, Gum somehow managed to get him a wheelchair and pushed him around the manor to get some sun.

But today, he sat in his wheelchair with a wool cloth covering his legs and was attending to some guests near the treillage of the manor. "Now, you've understood how I came up with the revolver. Without the help of Master Boyd and his daughter, I never would've been able to produce it in two short months.

"Honestly, I only carry it around because I wanted to test it out on the battlefield during the deployment, so I only had Madam Sonia make two for me and my guard. After all, I'm a lieutenant-general, so I can't exactly lead the charge, so I was prepared to let my huge guard here test the revolver out in actual battle.

"I didn't think that as I was heading to participate in the pre-battle ceremony, I would experience an attempt on my life by the magi. While my magic barrier managed to block off three enemy attacks and I managed to kill the magi with my revolver, it was a fluke to say the least. Thankfully, the revolver didn't misfire and the cartridges didn't go off on their own.

"I didn't hide anything about the revolver's design. I'm sure after all this time, you understand that the largest problem with the revolver is its bullets. Using a flint ignition method results in a high rate of misfire, but using nitroglycerin as the primer is highly unstable and the bullets will go off without being properly fired. So, I could only ask Madam Sonia to passivise the nitroglycerin explosive by adding some beeswax into it. However, the same problem with misfires came back after that."

Claude knew that the ambassadors, all members of old nobility, didn't come visit him out of the goodness of their hearts. They had their eyes on that revolver. After all, it was the only gun in existence that went against 'modern' conventions of firing as far as possible. Instead, it didn't rely on slow matches and could fire brass cartridges in rapid succession. It represented a complete paradigm shift.

Even though he was already a lieutenant-general, he understood that he was no match for members of the old nobility. They had monopolised the whole military-industrial complex of the kingdom to the point that the royal family had to work with the new merchant nobility to start new factories in the new prefectures they conquered. But as there were many complications in their relations with the military, they still weren't able to produce things on a large scale.

Anyone with some understanding of firearms would know that the revolver Claude had invented was a mature and tested design. There was no concept of intellectual property in this world, so Claude believed that the revolver he handed in as evidence in the reports had been disassembled and copied a number of times by those in the ambassador band. They probably had a few fakes made, to say nothing of copies of the blueprints.

However, the crucial component of it all wasn't the gun, but rather, the cartridges, and the key to them was the primer. As he handed his revolver in, he decided to keep the ignition powder Sonia invented a secret. That is the biggest secret ingredient he used to take the place of mercury fulminate. He also had to ensure that his sister's identity as a magus a secret, choosing instead to credit Liboyd and Sonia for all the magical expertise. The two of them were, after all, registered rune magi with the kingdom apart from being gunsmiths.

Manufacturing the revolvers themselves was still rather simple, but the cartridges had to be assembled using an array. Claude had Angelina hurriedly make some nitroglycerin mixed with beeswax and used them as primer for the cartridges. While it could still fire using the firing hammer, there was a significantly higher rate of misfire. The unstable nitroglycerin could also cause unwanted firings.

Claude pointed at the few bullet cartridges on the tea table and said, "I'm sure you all know the problem with these revolvers now, right? What's troubling me is I'm still unable to mass produce these brass cartridges with machines. The bullets I used with my revolver were made entirely with Madam Sonia's own alchemical array as the nitroglycerin had to be stabilised with beeswax.

"But I can't really have her make bullets for me using her array all day long. Anyone would get sick of doing the same mundane task over and over again. That's why she charged me a thale for each bullet, and I had no choice but to agree. As a result, the revolver I invented can only be used as gifts or defensive weapons for a small number of the rich. It can't be deployed en masse, which is a major regret for me.

"I would be more than willing to give all of you the rights to produce them. However, I hope you can use your rich experience to continue improving upon my design and continue to lower the misfires. While I am the inventor, I'm still a rookie when it comes to the intricacies of industrial manufacturing. The only thing I do better than the rest of you is having better luck to come up with a pitiful excuse of a concept Master Boyd deemed worth helping me realise."

The listeners broke into applause. A white-haired ambassador smiled to him and said, "Lord General, you are far too humble. What you call a pitiful concept actually added a new page to the history of Freian firearms. The invention of the revolver has paved a completely new path for short-barreled guns. I believe it is a crucial weapon all people of importance must have for self-defence.

"As the representative of the five military industrial complexes, we are really thankful for your confidence in us in allowing us to produce and sell the weapon you invented. We hereby promise we won't let your hopes down. We will definitely gather our funding and most talented people to experiment and improve upon this design in hopes of being able to correct its instabilities. One day, we will make sure your amazing self-defence weapon gets spread throughout the whole continent."

Claude was quite happy with the praise. He had excitedly explored how the revolver might be developed in the future with them. For instance, he had wanted to apply the same revolving wheel for longer muskets and have them use brass cartridges as well. In Liboyd's experiments, while that was indeed possible, the firing range was quite short at fewer than 200 metres. Claude, however, believed it to be a great addition to hunting. It would work wonders against wild beasts that charged at the hunter.

They had a good chat all the way till evening before the guests had to leave. Claude apologised for not being able to host a banquet for them due to their injuries. Fortunately, the guests didn't mind since they got what they came for. There was no need to lengthen their stay unnecessarily.

Seeing one carriage after another leave the manor, Claude sat back in his wheelchair and breathed a sigh of relief, all the while waving and sending them off with a smile. Finally, those dimwits had gone. While he gave them the rights to make the revolvers, he kept the key secret of the ignition powder to himself.

"Claude, why did you give them the rights to make the revolvers?" Bloweyk had appeared behind him before he noticed.

Not turning back, he sighed and said, "They'll make fakes of them even if I don't hand it over. Blowk, you're grown up now and you should understand that those on the top of this world are far more powerful than we are. Had I not been a lieutenant-general, they wouldn't even bother to be so courteous with me and give me 50 thousand crowns for the rights to make the revolvers.

"If a normal person invented this, I doubt it'd be any good fortune at all. He and his family would no longer have any freedom in the future to speak of in the future. My status as a lieutenant-general of the kingdom and corpsman of Thundercrash, however, managed to protect me, you, Mother, Anna, Kefnie and the children from any undue harassment. Otherwise, they wouldn't let us off so easily just by paying us a small sum.

"Even if I don't give them the rights to make revolvers now, what can I do if the five military industry giants start making them? Sue them? If I offend them, they can take all we have. This assassination incident made me understand that true power is actually held in the hands of the bigwigs in the royal capital. It's only thanks to having their favour and acknowledgement that we managed to keep our position and possessions now."

Bloweyk merely humphed with dissatisfaction.

Claude chucked. "What? Dissatisfied? You think that I don't have to be polite to these ambassadors just because I'm the corpsman of Thundercrash, right? Sigh, Blowk, we have no choice but to lower our heads while living under the roof of others. You must understand that Thundercrash isn't a main corps of the kingdom, nor is it a standing corps. It definitely isn't House Ferd's private army. We're merely designated as an irregular corps in the colonies.

"With a single word from the ministry of the army, I can easily be relieved from my position as a corpsman. While I have great repute among the officers of the corps, they won't go into mutiny for my sake. Now that we've conquered Port Vebator, the war in the colonies has come to an end. Whether I'll be kept as corpsman will depend on what the bigwigs have in mind.

"I curried favour with the ambassadors because of the families and factions they represent, and I gave them the rights to produce the revolvers in hopes that they won't have anything to say against me keeping my post as corpsman. Perhaps they'll put in a good word for me thanks to my cooperation.

"You must know that I currently have nothing but my position as corpsman and rank as lieutenant-general. While the kingdom has many generals, there are only tens of corpsmen. This is one of the main cornerstones of our family. As for my honorary viscount Title, it's nothing but a decoration. It can't actually be passed down and can't strengthen our family by any means.

"With the war here ending, we can't even be certain they'll keep the war theatre intact. The fates of Thundercrash, the Monolith folks and the other generals here all lie with the royal capital. So, humbling ourselves before they decide on our futures is only natural. If you want true freedom without being pushed around by anyone, you'll have to wait until we're as powerful as them first."

The carriages gradually disappeared into the distance.

"Push me back indoors."

Gum had wanted to turn the wheelchair around, but Bloweyk stopped him. "Let me do it."

He pushed the wheelchair back with Gum following beside.

Claude thought about something and said to his brother, "Blowk, it's better if you head back with the ambassador band. Check on our mansion in Whitestag and our wood. Anna has always regretted not bringing our snowhound, Pluto, along with us. Now that Myjack made her a farmstead, we can bring Pluto here to keep her company."

Since his family moved to Nubissia, the mansion was left in the hands of Uncle Pegg, their guard. As for the wood out of the city, it was barren and a few young trees had been planted there. It was currently in the care of Borkal's father, Rublier.

Pegg also had the task of looking after the snowhound. The reason it was left behind was Madam Ferd didn't think they'd be leaving home for so long and feared taking their pet along would be a tad bit inconvenient. Who knew they'd stay for a year or two in Nubissia and not think of returning. The only thing they missed in Whitestag was Pluto.

Bloweyk had planned to return to the mainland and had made arrangements for a half-year-long family visit. He was now a second lieutenant and would return to his hometown with honours. The reason he was heading back was to formally take over as the head of the Ferd household and deal with the matters of property and taxes. Additionally, Angelina had borrowed a loan of six thousand crowns from the national bank in Whitestag to buy the wood. The term of the loan was more or less over, and Bloweyk didn't lack the funds either, so he was prepared to pay it back.

"You can leave the minor matters of the household to Butler Alek. Stay in Whitestag for a few days and visit all our family and our father's friends during that time. When everything there is done, visit the orphaned children of your comrades with Butler Alek. Trust, me, the locals will prioritise a visit from a viscount's butler much more than a second lieutenant of the kingdom. If anything troublesome occurs, it'll be much simpler to deal with..." Claude nagged on.

Feeling annoyed, Bloweyk said, "Claude, I'm grown up now and no longer a child. I've heard you say this some days ago and now you're repeating it again. The ambassador band is only returning in half a month. Are you going to nag me once every two days until then?"

Chapter 405 - Discharge Problem

On the 21st of the 10th month, Year 590, five days past Bolonik and Eiblont's arrival in Lanu, the ambassador's group finally announced the final decision on the assassination. As Claude and Birkin were injured, they were spared any accountability.

Bolonik rushed back to Lanu following the incident and made a quick decision to lead the royal guard on Port Vebator and ended the war. He didn't miss out on an important opportunity, so he was promoted to lieutenant-general and took over as acting field marshal.

As General Skri immediately led the troops on the hunt for the magi, managed to kill five, and provided stable logistical support to Bolonik, he would not be punished.

General Eiblont was located in Wickhamsburg and mobilised Thundercrash in support of the royal guard, making his own contributions to the battle. As such, he was spared any accountability as well. Before Claude's recovery, he would take over as acting corpsman of Thundercrash.

The most unfortunate was General Saljorak, whose fate everyone had expected. As a general had been killed in an assassination, one that had come to Nubissia for the merits required to be promoted to Lord Militant, somebody had to bear the blame. As a result, Saljorak, the one in charge of local defence and security as well as counterintelligence, was the prime candidate.

Even though he had given his best following the assassination and uncovered the mastermind, he still had to bear some responsibility. He was relieved of all posts and stripped of his rank. He was then discharged as a rank-and-file grunt. He was not, however, stripped of his dignitarian status as he'd served a largely meritorious fifteen years.

There was no difference between a dignitarian and a peasant in the Nubissian colonies, however. There weren't many rights dignitarians had over peasants in the first place, though one privilege was being given priority when applying for a position in the local administration. He wouldn't leave for the mainland after his discharge, since he had settled his family in Anfiston, so he benefitted little from this retention.

The assassinated general, hereditary count, and field marshal, Aljess, was posthumously promoted to Lord Militant. His corpse was cremated and his ashes collected to be taken back and entombed in his family mausoleum. The high-ranking officers of the royal guard killed were given the same treatment. As for the three magi captured alive, they would be escorted back by the ambassador's group and dealt with in the kingdom.

As the ambassador's group were informed of Port Vebator's capture before they departed, the ministry of the army granted them additional rights to make decisions on the positions and staff in the theatre. After some discussion, they decided to merge the three Monolith folks into one corps with Bolonik as their corpsman. When Birkin recovered, he would take up the post of chief strategist for the corps.

The theatre was expanded to include Vebator Colony, on top of the original four colonies of Anfiston, Robisto, Balingana, and Cromwell. The main objective was to keep Port Vebator and Port Patres well defended against pirate and Shiksan fleets.

As such, Monolith was in charge of coastal defence while Thundercrash would take over land-borne defence and border control as well as keeping tight supervision over the northern coastal highlands near Vebator where the war between the newly founded nikancha nation and Shiks was still ongoing. Defences had to be erected against a potential clash with the nikancha and to supervise the refugees the conflict created.

Claude had thought the theatre would be dissolved after Port Vebator's conquest, but the ambassadors said they didn't have the right to and could only make some adjustments to the troop organisation and staffing. Only the capital government could dissolve the theatre. At the very least, the city's conquest removed the need to worry about further Shiksan reinforcements.

Before Shiks and Aueras held peace talks, there was still a need to be wary of sudden enemy harassment or attacks. Without the theatre, it would be hard to ensure unilateral cooperation between the colonies in matters of defence. Though, having five of the eight Aueran colonies be included in the theatre was troubling as the funds of the two corps had to be covered by the three colonies outside the theatre.

Then again, the ambassadors did not have to worry about it. They believed that, before the bigwigs in the capital made a decision, it would be best to keep the theatre as it was. They packed up and left with the royal guard in a hurry because of urgent word from the capital that Stellin X had finally breathed his final breath on the 7th of the 10th month and returned to the war god's kingdom. In his will, he specified that the second prince, Wedrick, would inherit the throne rather than the first.

With such a huge event, many bigwigs couldn't even be bothered with the colonies. Prince Hansbach had angrily stormed out of the capital. No one knew where he was.

All the bigwigs in the capital had to deal with Stellin X's funeral and the ascension ceremony for Prince Wedrick, all the while searching for Prince Hansbach's whereabouts. They ordered all the local keeper forces to seal off main checkpoints in an attempt to find him. They all knew he had substantial influence in the military. Having him declare himself king in some other area would be a nightmare.

An urgent order by the ministry of the army for them to return with the royal guard troops followed soon after word of the old king's passing.

After all, the royal guard comprised mainly of the members of the old nobility. They decided to side with Prince Wedrick following Stellin X's death. Unlike the other units in the royal guard corps, the first prince had particularly low influence in this folk. So, the ministry needed them back in the capital to stabilise the situation.

Bloweyk followed the ambassadors. Claude instructed Butler Alek and two other attendants to go with him to deal with miscellaneous matters. Now he just had to recover, but he wouldn't be able to have it easy. While Bolonik took over as acting field marshal, there were a number of things he couldn't decide. He had called for a meeting on this day to talk about them.

Thundercrash and Monolith were faced with a mass retirement, especially among low-ranked officers that had served their 15 years. Most were veterans from Ranger that had taken part in the five-year war before joining Ranger and transferred to Nubissia to fight in the colonies.

Another five years had passed since then and Aueras had finally won a serious, lasting peace -- granted it could close the deal with Shiks, of course. As most of Ranger's troops had been transferred to the five enhanced folks, the veterans were promoted to junior officers. Now that the war had ended, many were ready to retire. Few had any ambition beyond their current station, and even those that did were too tired to pursue it. Around 20 thousand had moved to the folks initially. The lowest ranked of them was now a sergeant-major and the highest was a captain.

Nobody would've expected more than ten thousand troops to apply to be retired at once. It came as a huge shock to theatre headquarters. The most troubling thing was everyone had served their terms in full and could not be denied their retirement, not without a war.

They were not in the kingdom, however, where recruiting and training replacements would have been easy. The population in the colonies was relatively low, and could not afford to lose such a big portion of their labour force. Not to mention that almost everyone qualified was already enlisted. Every man that retired, was a permanently vacant position.

Bolonik didn't want the veterans to return home, but there was nothing he could do. They were loyal soldiers who had fought for more than a decade. They wanted to return home and settle with a family. There was no good excuse, certainly none that had legal backing, that could keep them.

The main corps could easily solve this by registering the retirees as volunteers and giving them better benefits and salaries and allowing their families to settle near the bases, but the four corps had strict requirements for consideration to make someone a volunteer. Only the best of the best were extended the courtesy.

Thundercrash and Monolith were considered temporary, irregular corps. With the men retiring on a large scale now that the war was over, they didn't have the funds necessary to request the retired officers remain as volunteers.

Bolonik had wanted to report the situation to the ministry of the army so that they could come up with a solution for the great impending decrease in their combat effectiveness. But he seemed even more miserable after bringing it up.

Given the current situation in the kingdom, nobody in the capital could bother with the mass retirement in the theatre. They wouldn't care about the lowered capabilities of the corps in the colonies. Even if they sent that report there, who knew how long the capital would take to come up with a reply?

The theatre couldn't hold the retired officers until they got a response, could they? According to regulations set by the ministry itself, nobody could hold the retired soldiers in their units as long as they fulfilled all requirements necessary for retirement. Anyone doing so would risk a mutiny.

Bolonik, Eiblont, and the just-recovered Birkin were stumped. Skri managed to come up with a few good solutions, but none were feasible given the current state of the theatre. He had no choice but to approve the retirements.

Claude couldn't figure out anything either. When he travelled back from headquarters to Weyblon Manor, he ran into a commotion caused by a fight between two settler households. He had wanted to send his guards to clear the road, but sudden inspiration caused him to immediately head back to headquarters and notify all the generals to hold another meeting.

"We can convert the retiring officers into voluntary officers. However, I don't think we need funding for added benefits and salaries as well as money to construct military bases. What we have here in abundance is land and we lack settlers. We can use settler status to coax the retiring officers to serve as voluntary officers."

Claude's idea came from the 100 thousand settler households that moved into Anfiston from the mainland. There were two reasons they were willing to move to an overseas colony. Some were poor on the mainland and wanted a fresh start and better economic opportunities on Nubissia. Each settler household would be given approximately 1.6 acres of land or a shoplot, which was something they would never be able to receive even after working their whole lives in their hometowns in the mainland.

The other reason was that many youths conscripted to join the war could continue their careers in the military on Nubissia after the five-year war ended before they finished serving their term. That would give them a chance to serve their terms in full and gain dignitarian status, raising the status of their families in society. Most of the 100 thousand households with discharged or retired family members moved to Nubissia because of that, even though it was at war.

Claude said, "Cromwell and Balingana are the most suited for agricultural development. Due to the colonial wars and Lord Militant Miselk's scorched-earth tactic, the two colonies have been razed to the ground. It is the perfect blank canvas to plan new development on. With Port Vebator in our hands, we don't have to worry about Shiksan reinforcements. We're also in the process of constructing five citadel cities in these two colonies for a firm supply line.

"Now, we can use the five citadels to develop the two colonies. We'll place a limit on the settlers and let only soldiers that have served our two corps to move into these two colonies. Naturally, those that qualify will be afforded even greater benefits, such as 16 acres of farmland or even a pasture larger than 165 acres in size..."

Chapter 406 - Problem Solved

Even they had to admit Claude's idea was radical. For Aueran citizens, gaining actual property was the key to a peaceful and fulfilled life. They could even leave the property to their descendants. On the mainland, it was far from easy to get a piece of land or a shop, however. Not everyone could afford the kind of land or property prices demanded by cities and town governments.

Angelina, for instance, had wanted to buy a piece of land. She had set her sights on woods. So, she bought three small private woodlands and had Claude buy the nearby woodland with his status as a captain to merge them into nearly 660 acres of land for the family. She spent all eight thousand crowns she got from selling off the building they owned as well as the three thousand crowns Claude left in the bank.

In Aueras, between farmland, pastures, and woodland, woodland was the cheapest. Angelina had wanted to buy the public woodland in Whitestag. As most of the wood had been felled, it was sold to Claude for half the price, and yet it still cost 12 crowns an acre. Coupled with the three empty private woodland, Angelina spent nearly 12 thousand crowns on 660 acres of treeless woodland.

To develop the woodland further, she took a loan of six thousand crowns from the national bank and used it to repair the roads in the woodland and planted young trees. The investment would only pay off in another five or six years.

A huge price had to be paid for a household to own property. Given that woodland was considered part of the wilderness, it sold for cheap. Pastures were more expensive, being about 60 crowns an acre. Very little was ever up for sale. As for farmland, it was usually owned by the local government, each acre costing well over 200 crowns.

As a result, when the the 100 thousand households of soldiers discharged after the last war heard that each soldier emigrating to Nubissia would be given 1.6 acres of farmland, they didn't hesitate. They knew they would never own that much land even if they worked hard for the rest of their lives. Now, Claude was trying to take advantage of it and get the low-ranked officers getting ready to retire to stay on as voluntary officers.

Take for instance, the average retiring officer. In all their years of service, their food and clothing expenses were all covered by the army. If they didn't waste their hard-earned salary, 15 years of service and the additional bonuses they'd have received for the previous two war's victories would amount to only 200 crowns.

With that money, they could get married and buy a house. But it was far from enough to buy 1.6 acres of farmland. There were also other costs to consider, such as their children's school fees. Unless the veteran landed an office job in the government, they couldn't enjoy life by any stretch of the imagination. There was a fine, but definite line between surviving and living.

Welikro's father, Kubrik, was a dignitarian and returned home after serving 15 years in the royal guard. He could only rely on the proceeds from hunting to sustain his family. When he offended Mayor Robert as the new town guard was about to be formed, he was constantly troubled by the local thugs and was forced to move away from Whitestag.

The most tragic part about his story was that he had no property. While he was known as the best hunter in Whitestag, he basically had to rely on his luck for his next meal. On bad days, his hunting trips would be nothing but wastes of time that might entail some risk to his safety and life. Had he had even one acre of farmland, he would be able to ignore the formation of the town guard and manage his farm. But since he didn't, he was counting on a job from the local administration but had to leave town for the royal capital due to the conflict he got into with the mayor.

While land in the colonies was not nearly as expensive as that back on the mainland, it would still cost a large sum for the average peasant officer. Many thought about the inconvenience of buying land in another continent so far away from home. They were probably turned off the idea altogether.

Claude had instructed Myjack to buy near 300 acres of land not far from Lanu for her sister to make a farmstead. Even though he enjoyed many price cuts and benefits, being a major-general of the kingdom, it still cost him six crowns per acre.

That was why Claude wanted to use the land most suited to be developed in Cromwell and Balingana to attract the retiring officers to settle in those two colonies as voluntary officers so that they may continue to serve and answer a call to arms should the need arise. The land would definitely be a huge draw, especially when they were talking about 16 or 165 acres of land...

One could build a modest village with 16 acres of land. For a low-ranked officer, he could move there, run a farm, even invite his wife's family. He would not have to worry over food and other necessities.

Naturally, it would be a little hard to live off one kind of main crop alone. There were a couple crops that could be planted. For example, one could use an acre or two for a certain kind of plant and more acres for other berries or fruits. The crop would be enough to sustain up to 30 people. Some smaller livestock like ducks, chickens, pigs or sheep could also be reared for good profit.

Cromwell and Balingana were formerly settled in by Auerans who went there in the first place to escape poverty. Only after working in the colonies did they earn enough to get some land, though their efforts were only on a really small scale. The administration of the colonies allowed them to develop as they pleased without any concrete plan, so the colonies grew really slowly.

In some ways, Cromwell and Balingana's land belonged to the war theatre administration. Anyone looking to buy them would have to pay an astronomical price. But if nobody bought the land, it would forever remain desolate and undeveloped, not being worth anything at all. So while giving land away made it seem like the war theatre was losing money, the land itself wasn't worth much in the first place.

In the end, the generals agreed to the proposal and decided to give land away for free for qualified officers to settle down and continue serving the army even after their term ended.

Naturally, their treatment and benefits didn't change and they would get the additional benefit of land. A captain, for instance, would be given 16 acres of farmland or 165 acres of pastures for farming or rearing livestock. However, first lieutenants would only get 12 acres of farmland or 120 acres of pastures. If they wanted 16 or 165 acres, they would have to continue serving in the force for another five years or until they get promoted to captain.

The generals discussed this plan through the night and finally decided on the specific terms to offer land to the ten thousand plus retiring officers. To make it more appealing, they put out an even more insidious temptation.

Each retired officer would receive additional subsidies to bring their families over from the mainland. Each household could claim up to ten crowns. They would not get coin, however, but necessities. It solved the issue of sustaining the settler populace and gave the new factories and businesses of the settlers healthy demand for their products.

After busying themselves over it the whole night, they put out the notice and decided to finally relax. They had been far too worn out from worrying about all sorts of matters lately. Now that they finally wrapped it all up, they decided to take a short two-day break before getting back to their duties.

But little more than ten hours later, the generals met up once more with gloomy expressions. They didn't expect the notice they put up in the morning to have that huge of a reaction. Not only did the officers that were about to retire sign up en masse, there was even a huge commotion among the officers that weren't going to retire. They complained to the top that if they wouldn't also be getting land by settling down, they would hand in their resignations immediately.

It was something the generals hadn't anticipated. They were only targeting the 10 thousand officers who were about to be discharged and had forgotten about the other 10 thousand low-ranked officers in both corps. Naturally, the benefits enjoyed by the soon-to-be-discharged officers incurred the anger of those that had planned to stay. They demanded to be given the same benefits by showing up outside the generals' houses to protest. That was the reason Claude and the rest convened again.

Since the war had just ended and peacetime was going to last at the very least another half year, the generals decided to expand the family-visit breaks. Each month, a unit would be given permission to take half a year's leave to go back to the mainland to visit their family, get married, and take them back to the colonies to settle down. Those that were qualified to become settlers would be given similar treatment as the officers who asked for resignations. Only then was the chaos quelled.

But the moment those low-ranked officers left, the troops from the two corps also sent representatives to make their concerns to the generals heard. There were three factions representing the common soldiers, all attempting to address the settler issue.

The first faction of soldiers numbered the fewest. They were troops recruited from the mainland to fill up Ranger's rank before being distributed among the five enhanced folks. Now, they were the backbone veteran soldiers of the two corps. Their representatives demanded settler rights as well and hoped that each soldier would be given some land in the two colonies. However, they weren't greedy and would be happy with 3.3 acres of land.

The generals quickly decided that anyone that served for a full 15 years, even if they didn't get promoted to become baseline officers, would receive up to 5 acres of farmland or 50 acres of pastures. Since the colonies were in need of settlers, they were allowed to claim the land in advance so that they could notify their families in the mainland to come to the colonies and manage their lands first. However, their settler subsidies would be halved. In other words, they would only get fifty percent subsidies for the travel fees of their families to the colonies.

The second faction was made up of former members of local defence forces in the colonies that were later transferred to the five enhanced folks. They were the elites that passed the training courses and remained. While they had their own livelihoods and land in the colonies, they could definitely do with more. They also hoped to obtain settler status with the reason that they were members of the two corps in the colonies as well.

It was iron-clad reasoning, so the generals were going to give them similar treatment as the first faction of soldiers. As long as they could serve their terms in full, they would be given 5 acres of farmland or 50 acres of pastures. They would also be allowed to claim them in advance for their families to manage.

The last faction numbered the most; almost half of all the troops in the two corps. They also demanded settler status, but the generals didn't have a consensus on how to deal with them. Bolonik was frustrated by how greedy the soldiers were being. He believed that serving in the army was their duty.

This faction of soldiers were those who were discharged after the five-year war on Freia. When they moved over to the colonies, the war theatre had already given their families either 1.6 acres of farmland or a shop lot or workshop. Yet, now they wanted to be settlers in Cromwell or Balingana too.

After much discussion, the generals decided that they would be allowed to pick 5 acres of farmland or 50 acres of pastures like the former two factions, but they couldn't get them in advance and had to serve their terms in full first.

The generals breathed a sigh of relief when they finally dealt with the demands of the two corps of soldiers. Skri then proposed that since Balingana and Cromwell had a sparse population, now that they had their new settler policy for the families of soldiers serving in the two corps, why don't they take it one step further to let the families of the soldiers that perished in battle in the colonial wars to move there too with free land or property? That would greatly increase the loyalty of the current troops in the two corps.

It was indeed a rather good idea. The two colonies were vast and had fertile land and the soldiers sacrificed through the colonial conflict coupled with those that had to be discharged due to crippling injuries numbered 30 thousand. Giving their families some land would be able to ensure the loyalty of the other soldiers to the corps they served. It was a great deal. So, the generals agreed to let Skri move forward with his plan.

Though they had dealt with the troops, they didn't think their policy would be met with the opposition of the local officials. Back when Miselk used his scorched-earth tactics in Balingana and Cromwell and forcefully evicted near 100 thousand Aueran settlers from the two colonies, they were given promissory slips for reimbursement for what they lost.

Yet, the same settlers now wanted to get even more land in the two colonies they had left, essentially doubling their land or property, which was rather troubling for the generals. Claude, however, didn't really mind it. Since they had instituted the new settler policy, they had to follow through with it. Not a single settler could be left out. After all, the reimbursement they were promised didn't state which province in which they would be reimbursed. If they really wanted to claim the promissory slips, they could use them for land in Robisto. If they didn't want them, then they would get nothing.

Chapter 407 - Rapidly Changing World

All the generals in the war theatre, Claude included, hadn't predicted the absolute tsunami of immigrants to the colonies of Cromwell and Balingana as a result of the land and property policies they enacted for the soldiers of Thundercrash and Monolith. The changes still hadn't stopped half a year later. The war theatre's generals had stiff smiles when they witnessed the sheer number of soldiers' family members swarm to those two colonies.

With Anfiston's 100 thousand households as a sample, each soldier was estimated to have five to six direct family members. There were around 130 thousand soldiers spread out in the two corps in the war theatre and any kind of estimation wouldn't put their family members too far above 500 thousand, which wasn't that significant a number for both the colonies in the first place. They would only need to construct a few more towns to accommodate them.

However, Claude had forgotten the huge change in their situation. Coupled with the sheer masses of poorer Aueran subjects attracted by the prospect of being given land and the fact that they didn't specify the families of the soldiers to be only their direct family members, many of them found loopholes to bring in other relatives as well. When the first officer about to retire took some 50 family members with him to register, including his distant uncle, cousins, and other relatives, the ones in charge of the registration were made aware of the true nature of the problem. Some even asked him whether he would be able to sustain so many people with his 16 acres of farmland.

The officer merely said there was no need to fear. As long as they were willing to work for their fair share, they would be able to earn a living even if they were to work in the fields. The main reason they brought all those relatives over was to give them a chance. Perhaps in another two to three years, there would definitely be another group of old officers going to retire, so if the relatives could be sent to join the recruitment, they would be able to gain at least five acres of land per person.

That officer wasn't the only one with such plans in mind. Many of the lower-ranked officers thought the same. Those that didn't, when reminded, immediately wrote to their family members and friends to grab this chance. Given how the economy in the Aueran mainland wasn't doing particularly well anyway, and how Stellin X just passed away with Prince Wedrick being the successor and Prince Hansbach nowhere to be found, many saw the current situation to be a bad omen. As a result, the combined factors sparked the largest folk migration wave in the history of Aueras.

Half a year later, near three million immigrants migrated to the five Aueran colonies in Nubissia, causing those in war theatre headquarters to be busy to no end. Everyone was shocked by the sheer number and scale of the whole ordeal. The three million immigrants brought extreme changes to the colonies. One such change was the busy ocean trade route stretching from Port Tyrrsim, Port Patres to Port Vebator.

Claude, however, was having a rather relaxed time. Both his broken legs had mostly recovered. Apart from spending time with his wife and children in Weyblon Manor, he would get Gum to push his wheelchair to an empty lot in the manor to have a contest of accuracy with their revolvers. They practised how to shoot their targets based on rough feel alone without aiming down the sights. Oftentimes, they would get into arguments about who hit what.

The reason the two of them were allowed to waste cartridges in that fashion was the completion of Angelina's first brass cartridge production line. It was a mostly man-powered production line with minor automation that hired ten female family members of the corps' soldiers. Each day, they worked nine to ten hours on production and could complete 12 thousand brass cartridges fit for use with the revolvers.

The completion of those brass cartridges meant the revolvers could soon be mass produced. It also meant that further development of revolving rifles could continue. However, Claude had given the rights to produce revolvers to the old nobility's five military industries, so they were the only one who could mass produce them. Additionally, they would only be sold in the colonies and not in the mainland.

Bolonik and the rest believe that a fearsome weapon like the revolver shouldn't be sold to civilians and should only be offered to military personnel. Given the high price of 12 crowns per revolver and one thale per cartridge, Bolonik grit his teeth and ordered a thousand revolvers and 30 cartridges for each. He was about to offer them to field officers and their personal guards to ensure their safety and prevent similar assassinations from being carried out.

That came as quite a disappointment to Angelina and Sonia. They couldn't be bothered to start a new production line for such a small order, so they simply fired up their alchemical arrays and made all the parts necessary for that order themselves and had them assembled. They were simplified versions with no intricate decorations, which was more than apt for soldiers. If they wanted to pretty them up, they were free to pay others to do it for them.

When Claude finally recovered and visited Angelina and Sonia to check on their research progress, he had to listen to his sister's complaints. Initially, she had planned to make a huge sum of money from the revolvers. She didn't think they'd only be getting a small order for a thousand.

While they did make a profit of more than seven thousand crowns, it took them a whole week of nonstop hard work. Yet, it wouldn't be worth the effort to design a production line for a small order like that from scratch. They would have to pay too much for the machines and salaries for the employees.

Claude didn't really have a choice either. The war theatre couldn't afford to come up with more funds. Currently, the administration in the mainland couldn't even bother with Nubissia anymore. They received a succinct message from the royal capital last month to maintain the status quo and not trouble the bigwigs in the royal capital for every little matter during such a crucial and volatile time for the kingdom.

It was indeed rather volatile, given how Prince Hansbach and his attendants had suddenly reappeared in the three eastern prefectures of former Askilin and wrestled control of Bluefeather. He staged a small-scale bloodless mutiny. The officers of Bluefeather were apprehended and marched back to the royal capital by the soldiers they supposedly held command over.

That could be nothing else but a precursor of Prince Hansbach's rebellion. The ambassadors of the kingdom and advisors quickly rushed to the newly conquered territory in hopes of being able to defuse the heated conflict between the two royal brothers. The top brass of the kingdom couldn't be bothered with whatever happened in the colonies with that on their plates and being able to maintain the current status quo was already ideal for them.

Currently, the funding crisis in the war theatre was not caused by the five prefectures in the war theatre, but the other three not under its jurisdiction, namely, Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras. Those colonies had been administered not by the war theatre, but rather, their respective viceroys and high-commissioners. To fight the war against Shiks, they had relegated most of the taxes they collected to the war theatre as war funds.

However, they began to refuse funding Thundercrash and Monolith as of late, citing that the conflict had ended with Port Vebator's capture. As such, the taxes they collected would go to their respective treasuries and would no longer be sent to the war theatre as war funds. It was the convention for funding for irregular corps to be provided by the ministry of the army during peacetime, after all.

In fact, this was a united ploy to test the waters for the viceroys and high-commissioners. They wanted a cut of the taxes. Given how far away the kingdom was, they believed that they wouldn't have the energy to care about what happened in the Aueran colonies given the current state of affairs. Additionally, the reasons they gave were sound. Before, they had provided funding to the five enhanced folks due to the ongoing wars.

With Port Vebator taken, and Vebator made the eighth colony of the kingdom, that meant that another war with Shiks on Nubissia was impossible. In other words, they had won. Since the war was over, there was no need to give their taxes to the war theatre any longer. They would instead send the collected taxes straight to the national treasury.

Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras hadn't been engulfed in the flames of war. However, Cromwell, Balingana and Robisto had been where most of the battles had been fought. Most of the civilians in these colonies had fled to Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras, which brought great economic development to those colonies. In terms of economic power, those three colonies were doing the best and their subjects enjoyed the highest standards of living among the kingdom's colonies.

Similarly, their taxes had become the greatest funding source for the war theatre. Suddenly having all funding from them cut off absolutely infuriated Bolonik, the acting field marshal. He rushed to the three colonies immediately for negotiations.

When Skri went to Anna Farmstead to collect the order of a thousand revolvers, he told Claude that Bolonik had reacted in a less-than-ideal manner. He shouldn't have been in such a rush to negotiate, as that would make it apparent that the war theatre was in dire need of funds. It would easily be used as a crutch against them by the viceroys and high-commissioners. Since the three colonies could afford to ignore the ministry of the army's orders to continue to send funding, the war theatre would be in the right to send their forces there. There was no need for Bolonik himself to go at all.

Eventually, Skri's worries became the truth. When Bolonik returned, they were informed that the negotiations concluded with the colonies being allowed to keep thirty percent of their taxes for the development of the colonies and infrastructure with the rest going to the war theatre as funding. Thankfully, the captured Vebator could make up for their funding deficit and they wouldn't have to worry about lack of funds yet.

During the half a year from the 10th month of Year 590 to the 4th month of Year 591, the Aueran mainland, Nubissian colonies and the other Freian nations witnessed a huge historic occasion.

First, the late Aueran king, Stellin X, passed away and ascended to the war god's kingdom, leaving a will appointing Prince Wedrick as his heir instead of Prince Hansbach, who had been managing the kingdom since the king fell sick. Angered, the first prince left the royal capital and disappeared.

The colonial conflict on Nubissia ended after the Aueran colonial corps conquered the only Shiksan port, Port Vebator. Shiks was no longer able to send troops there and the remaining inland Shiksan colonies were slowly being devoured by the newly founded nikancha nation.

In the same year, Claude, a corpsman of a colonial irregular corps, invented the revolver. After the five military industrial complexes of Aueras obtained the rights to produce them, they changed the name of the revolver to spinwheel short-barreled guns and ushered in a new page in the history of Freian firearms. The new design and rapid-fire capabilities made them the favourites of many top officials, making them a staple self-defence weapon.

It was a shame that the five military industrial complexes didn't intend to promote the spinwheel short-barrels on a large scale. They only intended to sell them to nobles as luxury products that could be given as gifts or used for self-defence. Each short-barrel would be laced with gold or silver patterns and the cheapest of them cost above a hundred crowns. The rich and powerful all across the continent would get one for themselves to show off to their peers.

Following the sudden appearance of Prince Hansbach during the 2nd month of Year 591 in the three prefectures of Aueras' eastern border and his wrestling of control of Bluefeather, the kingdom's situation got tense once more. It seemed like a civil war would break out.

Compared to that, news of the tax dispute in the colonies wasn't eye catching enough. The war theatre suffered a huge loss of funding following the negotiations.

During the 3rd month, Majid III of Shiks did something that completely shocked Freia for how low he was willing to stoop.

It all started when the three Greytower magi were escorted by the ambassadors back to the Aueran mainland. It didn't take long before the captives released their statement that Majid III was the one who paid Greytower to send their members to Nubissia to assassinate the generals in the Aueran war theatre with the aim of causing their troops to fall into turmoil and delay their attack on Port Vebator. The matter came to heated public debate.

However, Majid III shamelessly insisted that he was being framed and had never paid for such an assassination, calling it nothing but an Aueran conspiracy.

But the proof was clear for all to see and public opinion seemed to sway in favour of the Auerans. As such, Majid III decided to host a grand banquet for ambassadors all over Freia to reemphasise that he had nothing to do with the assassination. Halfway through the banquet, the palace guards reported that Aueras' ambassadors requested an audience. The other ambassadors present were rather curious as they hadn't heard anything about Auerans sending any ambassadors over. Not only that, didn't Shiks refuse entry to their borders to all Aueran ambassadors?

The two that showed up before everyone else moved oddly and didn't seem like ambassadors at all. They advanced with purpose unrelentingly and removed their ambassadors' robes when they were some ten metres away from Majid III to reveal the grey robes they wore underneath before they launched magical attacks on the king!

According to the description of one ambassador present during the incident, Majid III was covered in layers and layers of magical barriers. The flash from the barriers as they mitigated the spells was enough to blind the eyes of many ambassadors temporarily. The two ambassador imposters were arrested on the spot and they immediately confessed to being Greytower magi that were hired by the Aueran first and second princes to assassinate Majid III.

It was too bad that with Stellin X dead, Majid III had nobody else but the princes to frame for the assassination. He had forgotten about the deadlock the two princes found themselves in; they were about to go to war for the Aueran throne. How could they possibly conspire to assassinate the Shiksan king?

Not to mention, the assassin magi weren't professional at all. Not only did they impersonate Greytower magi, they also seemed to act as if they were begging to be arrested. Many ambassadors saw through the pathetic tricks and laughed at Majid III for putting up such a laughable show of cops and robbers for them to see. They had a renewed opinion of how low this king was willing to go.

After word of the assassination performance spread to Aueras, it was said that Duke Duncan, the Aueran prime minister, coughed out blood out of sheer anger for the shamelessness Majid III displayed. However, given that civil war in Aueras seemed to be on the horizon, the kingdom would be trying its best efforts to quell tensions between the two princes and couldn't be bothered to follow up on the Shiksan scandal.

Chapter 408 - War Orphans

On the 7th of the 4th month, Year 591, Bloweyk returned to Weyblon Manor in Lanu.

However, he didn't return alone and caused Claude quite the headache. In fact, he came with nearly 60 boys and girls, all of them war orphans, the oldest of whom was 16 and the youngest, seven. There were even five to six crippled ones.

Madam Ferd and Kefnie were completely flabbergasted and didn't know what to do. Butler Alek and the two attendants could only smile in resignation. Initially, they had only planned to go back to the mainland to deal with some household affairs. However, the stubborn Bloweyk made it an orphan-collecting trip. Alek and the attendants, being servants, couldn't say a word in opposition and did their best to ferry the children back to the manor.

Bloweyk didn't really care about what others thought. When he returned with so many children to the manor, he ordered the servants to heat up some water to bathe all of them, buy clothes from the stores, prepare food for them and clear out some rooms for them to rest. The servants were so busy they couldn't even catch a breath.

When Claude returned to the manor, the children had been bathed, fed and clothed. Many of them played around in the yard of the manor and those not in the know might mistake the manor for a schoolyard. Even Gum was stunned for a good moment. He made sure to look around just in case he had taken a wrong turn before escorting the carriage inside.

Soon, the two brothers met in the study. However, Bloweyk was accompanied by a girl of around sixteen years of age.

"Claude, this is old Zoft's daughter, Adele," Bloweyk introduced.

Claude knew Zoft; he was a famous sergeant-major in Thundercrash and was also a former member of Ranger. Having had a military career of longer than 20 years, he would've been promoted beyond sergeant-major had he known how to read. He had perished on the battlefield to cover for Bloweyk in enemy lines during the third colonial war. This time around, Bloweyk went back to the mainland to deal with their household affairs in Whitestag as well as seek out Zoft's wife and children.

Soon, he was told why his brother took so many war orphans back with him. When Bloweyk went to Zoft's hometown, he was greeted with something he completely didn't expect. Six year ago when Zoft left with Ranger to Nubissia, he left his wife, daughter and two sons behind. The money he left them should've been enough for them to survive on.

But as luck would have it, Zoft's youngest son got badly sick on the third year since his departure. His wife, in trying to find a herbalist to treat their son, got scammed. Despite spending lots of money, their son's sickness only got worse. Eventually, the child died and the scammer left with the money. The mother was unable to take the blow and eventually collapsed. With nobody supporting the household, the thirteen-year-old Adele had to take charge.

Back then, one of Zoft's relatives had his eye on their house. So, he offered them a high-interest loan since Zoft's wife was sick and needed treatment. But when the debt racked up high enough, he showed his true colours and chased them out of the house. Zoft's wife was so angry and regretful that she eventually died as well.

The 14-year-old Adele became a homeless orphan just like that. She and her only remaining brother got into a huge fight with other war orphans as they were searching through trash for food. By the time Bloweyk found them, Adele had become the boss of the 20-odd war orphans near their hometown.

Bloweyk told Adele about her father's death, but she was completely unmoved and shed not a single tear. She said that she knew that he had died after not receiving any word from him for more than a year, and told him that she was living well even without her father around.

Bloweyk was unable to take it and wanted to give the siblings a new chance at life so that they would no longer need to sift through the trash for food. Zoft, had, after all, died while covering for him, but Adele didn't want to follow him back to Nubissia at all. Bloweyk spent a few days trying to convince her and finally managed to change her mind by promising her brother a better future.

However, she did have a condition. She wanted him to take the other war orphans along with him or she and her brother wouldn't leave. Bloweyk thus agreed without so much as batting an eyelid. Yet, Adele didn't seem convinced and wanted to test Bloweyk. So, she took in other war orphans during their journey to Whitestag and they numbered more than sixty by the time they arrived.

Claude wondered why there would be so many war orphans within the mainland. Bloweyk explained that he had looked into it when he was on the voyage back. Most of them were orphaned during the five-year war in Eastern Freia while some of them were abandoned by their families because they were cripples, or by their stepfathers after their mothers remarried following their fathers' deaths. Some were runaways who had no homes to return to.

Most of them were around the age of 13, so Bloweyk took them in and wanted to give them an education and a future. As for the funds, he believed that the Shiksan funds he embezzled would be enough to cover for the children until they turned adult. While Bloweyk was unreasonable and short-tempered at times, he was a kind soul at heart. Claude rather admired that quality of his.

He got Bloweyk to leave with Adele as he considered how he would deal with the war orphans. Adele and her brother would be fine; their father was Zoft, a sergeant-major of Thundercrash. Other things aside, they could claim around eight acres of land thanks to the settler policy and could own a small farm. Claude could easily double that land as thanks for Zoft for saving his brother's life.

However, the sixty orphans wouldn't be easy to deal with. First, they weren't war orphans of soldiers from Thundercrash or Monolith and the settler policy didn't apply to them. Additionally, he definitely wouldn't allow Bloweyk to adopt them as he was still single. Adopting so many children would definitely affect his chances for marriage. It wasn't a matter of finances; no unmarried young woman would be willing to become a stepmother to so many war orphans.

Claude pulled on the bell-rope to call Alek into his study. He wanted to know why he didn't stop Bloweyk from taking in so many orphans.

He didn't think Alek would give him an answer that would surprise him. He said that Bloweyk seemed to bear special feelings for Adele and tolerated all that she did, even down to her pranks and tricks, as an elder brother would his sister. That was why he didn't speak out against Adele inviting more war orphans to join their ranks.

As House Ferd's butler, Alek should've stepped out to stop her. However, he decided to let Bloweyk have his way since House Ferd didn't have many servants in the first place. Many families of old nobility had a large reserve of staff as they trained the children of their current servants for their descendants in the future.

However, House Ferd only started its path to glory from Claude. They didn't have many servants and attendants. Most of the ones they had now were employed elsewhere and their loyalty was hard to be certain of. As such, Alek believed this to be a good opportunity to raise them into loyal servants of the house. It would be far better than hiring external workers.

Those war orphans had lived a life of hardship since their childhood. As long as Claude was willing to spend some money to raise them, they would definitely be really thankful to him and the house. In five to six years, a new breed of loyal servants for House Ferd would be trained up. Even if they didn't show any amazing talents, they would be more than sufficient to serve as the household's servants and attendants.

Claude agreed with his assessment. As expected of a reliable and experienced butler. While Alek had based his reasoning off practices of the old nobility, it was indeed a good way to grow House Ferd's power.

It was laughable when Claude thought about it. Back then, he hadn't the slightest intention to do this. Throughout his military career and climb through the ranks to become lieutenant-general and corpsman of Thundercrash, the only ones he could trust were Myjack, Gum, Bloweyk, Berklin, Moriad and Dyavid. While he had a high position, he didn't have enough people he could trust and utilise in full.

He had Alek call Bloweyk to him and told him his decision. The household would take in those war orphans, but they wouldn't be allowed to live in Weyblon Manor. Rather, they would be housed in Anna Farmstead. Tutors would be hired to teach them reading and writing as well as provide them with physical training. He would run the farmstead like an elementary school.

Additionally, he asked Bloweyk to secretly test out the magic affinity of the children once they got to the farmstead. Those with exceptional talent could be trained as magi. House Ferd needed a reliable source of magi. Even if they couldn't be trained to become battlemagi, they would still make good assistants to Angelina and Sonia.

Not only that, Claude instructed his brother to go with Myjack to visit the families of the soldiers sacrificed through the war. They were to send any war orphans they found to the farmstead to be raised by House Ferd.

Bloweyk happily accepted the tasks and went to put the war orphans to sleep. They would head to the farmstead early the following morning. He was quite relieved that Claude had agreed to take the orphans in under the household's wing. Otherwise, Bloweyk would have lots of trouble raising and educating so many of them.

The next day, Claude, Bloweyk and Alek took the children to Anna Farmstead, which would be where the children would be living from then on. Alek would take care of their living arrangements. After what he said last night, Claude now considered him a loyal and trustworthy vassal. Alek himself was quite happy that he managed to earn Claude's trust.

Later, Myjack and Bloweyk would have to go to the logistics department to get a list of those killed in battle and visit their relatives to notify them that they could move into the colonies with settler status. If no other relatives remained aside from the war orphans, they were to be brought to Claude. House Ferd would be the ones to raise them.

Initially, Skri had suggested that the families of the sacrificed soldiers be given settler status and land too. The rest of the generals agreed to it. However, the logistics department was going to send a notice to the families about that decision.

Claude quickly realised the problem with that approach. If the families of the dead soldiers suffered similar experiences life Zoft's family, not only would they not be able to receive those notices, some people would even pretend to be the family members of the soldiers to claim settler status and land.

As such, Claude had his brother and Myjack personally see to that matter. Thankfully, the soldiers of the corps were taking turns for their family visits, so the officers were free to visit the families of the dead soldiers to notify them about the news.

However, he would have to first notify Bolonik about it. While he could decide on it for Thundercrash's behalf, it wouldn't do for him to interfere with Monolith. Bolonik's cooperation was also necessary to make sure no imposters could claim settler status as Skri had said.

When all was said and done, Claude visited Angelina and Sonia to discuss the development of their new rifle. Thanks to the standardisation of cartridge production, Sonia could run as many test-fire runs as she wanted and made great progress. The base form of the rifle Claude envisioned had taken shape. However, the body of the rifle was still rather bloated, making it rather heavy. They would need more time to refine the design.

There was one thing that troubled him, however. Liboyd didn't care one bit about the development of the new rifle and instead spent all his time researching the hot-air engine in a frenzy. He remained in the iron factory all day long. There was once when Claude described the slightly different mechanics of the hot-air and steam-powered engine to Liboyd, specifically, in how the expansion of gas and steam differed when it came to powering the pistons. Since then, Liboyd had been trying to create a steam engine as the hot-air engines in the factory were rather inefficient and needed a long warm-up time before they could start operating.

When Claude returned to Weyblon Manor in the evening, he found that his landlord was there to visit. Weyblon brought him the latest news from the royal capital, though it was already twenty days old by the time Claude got it. Stellin X had been entombed in the royal mausoleum and what would follow next was Prince Wedrick's ascension ceremony. However, that was put off temporarily as the top brass was worried that it would cause the first prince to outright declare himself king and mount a rebellion.

What was worth noting was the mutiny incidents that involved the two new standing corps stationed in the territories of Askilin and Rimodra. Just like Bluefeather, the soldiers of the two corps apprehended the top officers of their respective corps and declared that they only followed Prince Hansbach's orders. Now, the first prince held command over three corps of 200 thousand men.

Chapter 409 - Civil War and Waves of Immigrants

"Prince Wedrick has decided to ascend on the 10th of the 8th month. He isn't willing to let it drag on. It's said that the final offer he made to Prince Hansbach was for the former territories of Askilin and Rimodra to be fused together into a principality and be made his fief in exchange for Prince Wedrick's coronation as Stellin XI."

That was the latest news update from Weyblon. Naturally, the first prince had given his reply by the time word of this reached the generals on Nubissia. That was a rather good offer that even broke the rule Stellin IX set to never enfeoff any more land to nobles.

However, Prince Hansbach didn't count as he was a royal prince. If Prince Wedrick was made king, Prince Hansbach would be given the Title of grand prince. They were both Stellins, after all, so no matter how large the territory given away to Hansbach, it wouldn't be illegal to give him any land.

It was said that countless people who had gone to advise Hansbach had been given the cold shoulder. Most of them didn't even manage to meet the prince. The prime minister, Duke Duncan, had made a trip too. Given his position, Hansbach was willing to meet him for two hours. However, he left with a resigned look and returned to the royal capital without a word.

Wedrick, on the other hand, was feeling a little impatient about the coronation. After a discussion with the merchant nobles and top brass in the royal capital, they settled on the 10th of the 8th month as the deadline for the coronation. Whether Hansbach agreed to the terms or not, he would be ascending to the throne on the day. The seat to the kingdom's throne had been left empty for more than half a year, after all. They could not not proceed with the coronation just because they feared the first prince. There were many things in the kingdom that was delayed because of it.

Claude and the rest of the generals decided that no matter what conflict the two princes would come to, they would remain in the Nubissian theatre to watch the show without taking part in all the chaos. All they had to do was to profess loyalty to the king. As to which prince ended up becoming the king, it would have to depend on their own abilities.

However, before the 5th month, the generals received an urgent request for aid from Wickhamsburg, Cromwell. There simply was too large a number of immigrants and the logistics officers were overwhelmed by those that came in with settler status and demanded land and property. Wickhamsburg also required an emergency shipment of food, tents and other supplies from the rear so that the family members of the soldiers wouldn't have to camp out in the wild.

Claude found it rather weird that complaints began coming from Wickhamsburg even though he didn't see many immigrants going through Lanu towards Cromwell and Balingana. But since he received the urgent request, he decided to head to Wickhamsburg with some guards alongside Bolonik and Skri.

When they arrived, the three generals were stumped. The area in the vicinity of the city were occupied by seas and mountains of people. Countless immigrants carrying packs of varying shapes and sizes surrounded the city like refugees to the point that traffic to and from the city was hampered.

"Why are there so many people?" Bolonik muttered in shock.

Claude asked a second lieutenant about it. The man recognised Claude and hurriedly saluted before answering his question. It appeared that the baseline officers that knew about the settler policy had to first register in Wickhamsburg, so they didn't get off at Port Tyrrsim to travel to Cromwell by land. Instead, they rented flat-bottom, short-distance transport vessels and sailed along the coastline to an abandoned fishing village nearby Cromwell, saving half the time they required.

The three generals realised the reason they didn't see many immigrants passing through Lanu. However, that still didn't explain the sheer number of people near Wickhamsburg. They numbered around 300 thousand at a cursory glance.

When they entered Wickhamsburg, they found that it was even more packed inside. When they finally squeezed their way through the crowds to the immigration office, the person in charge cried at the sight of them. With a hoarse voice, he gave a brief explanation of the situation, which dumbfounded Claude, Skri and Bolonik.

"Did... did they move all their relatives and friends over here?" Claude was flabbergasted at the sight of the registration log in his hand. It was one thing to bring over an uncle or two, but what was with the uncles and aunts twice or thrice removed? Could they really be considered relatives?

Skri was rather calm and soon understood what was going on. "This is indeed our mistake. We forgot to remind them that only their direct relatives qualify for settler status. Almost all of them brought their whole extended families here to avoid the possible conflict between the first and second princes. They wouldn't want their families to be forcefully conscripted to serve as cannon fodder. Additionally, they hope that their relatives will be given a chance to enlist in Thundercrash and Monolith when we start drafting. That way, they'll be able to get their own land or property as well."

The logistics department of the theatre had actually drafted clear-cut requirements for settler status and the land-giving policy. Retired officers that brought their direct relatives to Wickhamsburg only had to go through a simple verification to be given farmland, pastures or property. They would then be allowed to build their own houses, manage their farmland and start planting with their family members.

Little did the theatre expect that the officers would bring so many relatives here with them. The workers of the immigration office were overwhelmed. Having to register the distant relatives of those officers, they could do little else. Fortunately, most of them were led in by retired officers, so while the number of people was mind boggling, the proceedings were orderly. Even so, food and supplies were running out to accommodate so many people at once.

The three generals immediately put their heads together to figure a solution out. Bolonik would return to headquarters in Lanu immediately and get those from the rear to start sending over manpower and food. Claude would remain to reorganise Thundercrash and maintain order. Skri would take charge of the immigration process and give out land and property per the regulations to the officers so that they may leave with their family members.

After that, Skri decided to open a recruitment point to hire the relatives of the soldiers for jobs like building irrigation and cultivating public farmland. It would be better to give them something to do rather than leave them without a purpose. However, that tightened the financial situation of the theatre even further. Employing such a large pool of labourers for the construction of public infrastructure would cost quite a huge sum of money. While they could sustain the food cost, they would have to resort to their military funds for payouts.

Fortunately, the 5th month would soon be upon them and the yearly migration of the wild-bull herd across Albator Plains would begin anew. Claude led two of Thundercrash's cavalry lines to hunt bulls. Berklin and Moriad led one line each. The bull meat would be able to make up for the food they consumed and the rest could be traded for funds with other territories.

From the 4th month of Year 591, the two relatives of the soldiers of the two corps in the theatre poured into Cromwell and Balingana nonstop. The wave of immigration only ended during the 3rd month next year, making it the largest wave of immigration in Aueran history that lasted nearly a year. The two million immigrants had come to Nubissia for land, property and to avoid being involved in what seemed to be an impending civil war in the mainland.

Later estimates put the average number of people each soldier took in to be around 30. That included not only their direct family members but also distant relatives as well as those on the wife's side. Skri regretted offering benefits and subsidies for the travel costs as the theatre had to pay out approximately 200 thousand crowns to cover them.

Claude was so busy he seemed to be losing weight. All sorts of problems came when the number of people increased. In the end, he decided to half-invite, half-kidnap the discharged Saljorak to the post of constable head to take over security in Cromwell and Balingana, easing his burden somewhat.

Near the end of the 10th month, most things were on track. Only then could Claude find the time to go back home. He also received news from the mainland. As most had expected, civil war broke out between the two princes.

According to Weyblon, Prince Hansbach mocked the offer made by Prince Wedrick. Even after the elders of the Stellin royal family went to advise Hansbach to respect Stellin X's pick for the heir to the throne, he claimed that the will left behind by the late king was forged because he didn't meet the king before his death as he had been forbidden from entering the royal palace. The so-called will that named Wedrick as heir to the throne had come out of nowhere. Hansbach had never heard his late father mention anything about such a will.

So, he suspected that a scheme was afoot. It was rather simple. If Stellin X hadn't intended to make him heir, he wouldn't have let him run the kingdom before his death. He had been on the sickbed for more than eight years, during which Hansbach took over the duties of regent. He had worked with Duke Duncan to solve all matters of the kingdom, big and small, and most of the ministers and officials already considered him the heir and next king.

Yet, the will popped out of nowhere after Stellin X's death, naming Wedrick as the heir instead. It shouldn't have been possible. Wedrick had no experience administering the nation at all and was nothing but a womaniser. How could he have been named heir over Hansbach all of a sudden like that? If Stellin X had really picked Wedrick to be his successor, he would've relieved Hansbach of his post so that his brother would be able to gain some experience running the nation instead of letting Hansbach continue with his duties till the very end.

That was the reasoning behind Hansbach's doubt of the will's veracity. He believed that someone had altered the will to plot against him, and that his life was under threat so long as he remained in the royal capital. So, he snuck out of the royal capital with his attendants to the eastern border, took control of Bluefeather, and decided to fight for the throne he deserved.

Those in the royal capital, on the other hand, were worried that Wedrick's ascension to the throne would spur Hansbach into all-out war. So, they hoped to use negotiation and a good offer to convince Hansbach to give up on his claim to the throne. They decided to push back the coronation and even offered to enfeoff him territory, but Hansbach's mind was set. He refused the olive branch they had extended and prepared for battle. He also took control of two other standing corps formed in the three southern prefectures and the Rimodran area.

Wedrick was finally crowned as Stellin XI on the 10th of the 8th month. When word of that reached Hansbach, he declared himself king on the 18th of the 8th month and proclaimed that Wedrick's coronation wasn't legitimate.

He announced that Wedrick had conspired with others in the royal capital to change the will left by Stellin X, and said that he, the true heir to the Aueran throne, was the only person who could restore a life of peace and bliss to the subjects of the kingdom.

Naturally, those were nothing but empty platitudes. The first prince acted quickly and sent his troops to Efenasburg in the former territory of Sidins within half a month. The single standing corps defending it resisted for a short hour before they opened the gates while chanting 'long live the first prince' and joining the rebel army.

That was right, they were known as rebels. When Prince Hansbach declared himself king, he was declared to be a traitor to the nation by the royal capital. All the troops under him were designated to be part of the rebel army. However, their men were all trained elite troops and all the territory conquered during the five-year war of Eastern Freia was now under the control of the first prince's troops.

But, when the first prince's troops launched an attack on Audin Mountain Range during the 9th month, they were stopped dead in their tracks by Griffon corps, which the royal capital sent. Griffon was one of the four main corps of Aueras and they were most proficient in fighting in mountainous territories. Prince Hansbach had wanted to encourage them to surrender, but the ambassador he sent was executed on the spot by Griffon for the crime of treason. Infuriated, the first prince led two of his corps to mount fierce attacks on the defence line at Audin Mountain Range.

Despite half a month of battles, the first prince's faction wasn't able to gain any ground at all. Both sides suffered heavy losses and Hansbach had no choice but to retreat to Eimis for reorganisation and recuperation while awaiting reinforcements from the rear. The royal capital, on the other hand, was gathering the local keeper forces to form irregular corps. The royal guard was also sent to Audin Mountain Range in preparation to seal Hansbach on the other side.

The war had lasted nearly two months and both sides seemed formidable. Neither seemed to hold advantage over the other. In terms of strategy and tactics, the first prince was top notch and would be able to defeat any tactician or strategist in the royal capital. However, the royal capital had numerical superiority, far more supplies and could afford to fight a battle of attrition. It was hard to tell which side would emerge victorious.

The generals were more concerned about the fact Miselk wasn't mentioned even once in the news updates. The Lord Militant should be with the first prince, being his loyal retainer and military advisor. However, the royal capital didn't so much as mention Miselk's name even though they declared Hansbach a traitor, which was rather weird indeed. Miselk was last said to have suffered severe injuries from an assassination attempt on the first prince. He had left the royal capital to recuperate and two years had passed since then. No matter how serious his wounds, he should've recovered by now. Yet, there was no news about him, despite his status as one of the three Lord Militants in the ministry of the army.

Apart from asking Weyblon and the mining association to look into Miselk's whereabouts and information, Claude and the rest couldn't do anything else. All they could do from Nubissia was watch the show unfold. They weren't even in the mood to run battle simulations. One of their major concerns was what they would do if Miselk sided with the first prince. They were, after all, his students, and it was hard to say where their loyalties should lie!

Chapter 410 - Conclusive Year-end Report

"Four of the five citadels we wanted to renovate back then are now complete. Within Cromwell, Wickhamsburg and Lanbichsburg are ready. Within Balingana, Beckhillsburg and Haroldsburg are ready too. Only Kasilyasburg is still under construction. We think it should be done in the 6th month of next year.

"When the five citadels are complete, we'll need to build a road from Cromwell and Balingana straight to Port Vebator's coastal defence area to make sure we're ready for an attack from sea and will be alerted appropriately. There's also the consideration of whether we should construct a fixed stone bridge across Dorinibla River to replace the two floating bridges now.

"However, it seems like any heavy construction projects will have to be held back. The city of Moknad in Vebator will have to be renovated and we'll need manpower as well for the silver mines there. The mines belong to the theatre. Back then, the nikancha rebellion more or less destroyed the whole city. Now, we have to get the city of silver running again.

"The mining association had sent experts to survey the place and if we have enough manpower, we'll be able to get the silver mines running in two months and produce an estimated yield of 150 thousand crowns next year. It'll be quite the sum to help our theatre out with the funding.

"Additionally, the city of Moknad is situated near the eastern mountain area of Vebator and only some 50 kilometres away from the nikancha nation. If we don't send anyone to take the abandoned mines, a third of Vebator's eastern area will be lost if they occupy it.

"I suggest we use the fact that the nikancha will need our military support since they had just founded their nation to draw clear boundaries now to prevent conflict arising from a confusing border. Nowadays, lots of nikancha enter Vebator and have to be chased away by our patrol guards."

It was the end-of-year meeting in the theatre. Skri made a summarised conclusive report on the theatre. Claude, Bolonik, Eiblont, Birkin, Bernard and the new chief constable of Balingana and Cromwell, Saljorak, were there in attendance. Most of the former heads of the theatre were there, save for the assassinated Sevict.

Moknad had to be rebuilt into a citadel like Wickhamsburg, not just to protect the mines nearby, but also because of the fact that it was near the border with the newly founded nikancha nation. When the colony was in Shiksan control, the other Shiksan colonies were nearby Moknad so there was no pressing need for defending it. That resulted in the city of silver to be easily taken. The nikancha who freed their enslaved brethren killed off nearly all the slave owners and drivers and set fire to the whole city.

Following Claude's capture of most of the Vebator colony, the one remaining Shiksan standing corps retreated into Port Vebator, leading to Moknad being abandoned. Now, Vebator had become the eighth Aueran colony on Nubissia. According to its old borders, Moknad and the silver deposits nearby should be within the colony and Skri set his sights on those areas, having been driven insane by the funding crisis.

"Our theatre is in the red now. We've spent nearly 1.45 million crowns, mainly on settling the immigrants down in Cromwell and Balingana as well as the infrastructure construction there. Currently, nearly two million people have been settled in the two colonies and 23 new towns have been built. The average number of relatives each soldier brought is 18, with the highest being 67 and the lowest being 6. That's what's causing our serious deficit.

"Fortunately, most of the soldiers in the two corps have moved their relatives here. There's only an estimate of 300 thousand more that will arrive next year. The problem with such a large-scale migration is the imposters from the Aueran mainland who aren't relatives of soldiers but are coming here to avoid the civil war.

"The Storm fleet in Whitestag only care about making money off the high transport fees they charge without caring about whether our colonies can sustain so many citizens to begin with. All they know is send ship after ship of them here. Additionally, the viceroys and high-commissioners of Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras don't care about the livelihood of the immigrants either. They chase them straight here to the theatre without exception. Currently, there are around 200 thousand immigrants that have no relation with our troops whatsoever. They're all kept in Robisto.

"While our deficit amounts to 1.45 million crowns, we didn't have to pay out that much cash. General Claude had suggested that we issue out notes that represent cash to solve our lack of funds for the moment, but that doesn't mean the problem is completely resolved. We won't be able to collect taxes from Cromwell and Balingana next year either and have to transport the goods from the other colonies to Balingana and Cromwell for sale there.

"In other words, we'll be buying goods using proper cash and selling them for the notes we issue this year. That means we'll merely be pushing our deficit to next year. If possible, I hope we can replace crowns by releasing paper currency yearly instead.

"Currently, we're faced with two large problems. First is the lack of funds for development and construction. Even if we use up our military funding, it will be far from enough to fill the hole. Tax can only be collected from Cromwell and Balingana two years later, which means we'll only get back some money at that time. This, however, is a long-term process. We're estimated to require more than ten years to recoup the costs of development.

"The other problem is that the kingdom doesn't have a reserve of so much cash in the colonies. Even if we loan money from the national bank, we won't get nearly enough to cover that huge amount. They don't have that many crowns and thales, which is a huge problem for civilian and merchant trading in the colonies. For instance, there's a demand for goods produced in local factories here but there's no money to facilitate the trade. Bartering is far too troublesome.

"The mining association suggested that we mint our own coins in the colonies. They had privately purchased a few coin moulds that are prepped for recasting for a high price. They can be used to mint crowns, thales, riyas, and fennies. We only lack the ability to produce sunars and pennies. However, we can simply import them if necessary. The colonies have enough metals for the minting of such coins and they're willing to give us a yield worth 300 thousand crowns yearly."

Claude was quite surprised at the guts of the merchants in the association. They would do any kind of profitable business and avoid those that weren't lucrative. The kingdom had ruled that all coins had to be minted by national casting factories. Privately making them would be punished by none other than death! However, that restriction caused the development in the colonies to slow and the mining association was trying to break through that limitation.

If they didn't have enough coins, there wouldn't be enough profit. Back then, the kingdom basically took whatever resources they wanted from the colonies and the mining association was part of those plundered. The ores they produced could only be refined into ingots and shipped to the other continent for sale. The price was set and trade was facilitated by the merchant nobles, who controlled intercontinental trade. They took most of the profits and only gave the leftovers to the association.

The yields from gold and silver mines had to be handed to the national treasury for free. The earnings of the association amounted to less than ten percent, and that was after they cited the need for some reinvestment to develop their mining capabilities. Nobody could've expected them to make their own preparations for coin minting. They even tried to drag the theatre in to cover all their bases.

Claude knocked on the desk and said, "Tell the association that we'll agree to let them mint coins privately. However, they have to provide us with 500 thousand crowns yearly. We can also let them take over the silver mines in Moknad and help them with maintaining security. However, they are to keep the coin minting an absolute secret. If word of this spreads, our theatre will be in quite some trouble."

The kingdom was quite far away and the two continents were separated by the Tranquil Ocean. Given that there was also a civil war going on, the kingdom would ignore development in the colonies, which were in dire need of funding. They couldn't be expected to let themselves go bankrupt, could they? Whether they were going against the law no longer mattered. What they had to do was to solve the problem first to keep themselves afloat.

Bolonik nodded. "Come this new year, I'll go to Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras and negotiate with the viceroys and high-commissioners to help us out and not keep thirty percent of their taxes for themselves since we're in financial trouble. That should be able to net us another 100 thousand crowns."

Claude secretly clicked his tongue. That was one of Bolonik's greatest weaknesses. He always assumed the best in people and believed they were fundamentally good. Did he really think the crooks would actually spit out the money they fought hard to keep? Then again, there was no harm in letting Bolonik go and fail for a lesson.

Sir Bernard said, "Due to the large number of immigrants in Cromwell, Balingana and Robisto, the factories in Anfiston received really huge orders. The taxes we can collect there will definitely increase in the coming year. There should be an additional 100 thousand crowns of income, which should relieve us somewhat."

Skri said, "If we have an additional 700 thousand crowns next year, I believe we'll fare much better. We don't really lack food now. During the 11th month of this year, winter wheat will be planted in Cromwell and Balingana and we'll get to harvest them during the 4th month next year. After that, we'll plant summer wheat. Following its harvest in the 9th month, we can even plant potatoes. The land in these two colonies are rich and suited to farming.

"Additionally, the five new citadels and 23 new towns' land is set to be half for public use and another half for personal ownership. Immigrants with land have already moved there to begin farming. In harvest season next year, the two million immigrants should be self-sufficient.

"The largest spending for our theatre this year was the construction of the five citadels and the costs of the 200 thousand Shiksan labourers. We only had to provide them with food and clothing as well as some simple medical treatment. The construction materials for the citadels amount to some 100 thousand crowns.

"However, hiring the relatives of our troops to cultivate land, build irrigation routes as well as roads and buildings in towns cost us a million crowns. Fortunately, General Claude suggested the issuing of notes in time to relieve us temporarily. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to hold on.

"But next year, we still have to continue developing the public facilities of these two colonies and construct small shipyards in coastal areas so fishing boats can be built. It'll be another source of income for our theatre. More importantly, we can't leave the two corps of soldiers doing nothing or the safety and order in the two colonies will be affected."

Claude grimaced. They still had many public services in the two colonies to deal with next year, such as the constabularies, elementary and middle schools as well as town halls that each new town needed to run smoothly. All that required large amounts of investment. It seemed that they would have to issue another round of notes the next year.

Bolonik rubbed his temples. He was facing quite a lot of stress as acting field marshal. In a short half year, half his hair had whitened. The creases on his forehead were even deeper than before.

"We'll leave it at that.... Now, we are all aware of the state of the theatre," Bolonik said, "Civil war has broken out in the kingdom and there's no saying which prince will obtain final victory and become our new king. What we must do is to take care of the management of the colonies under our theatre.

"After my discussion with General Claude, we decided that we have to start reorganising our two corps. Since the civil war began, we were unable to obtain updates on Shiks from the royal capital. Last month, a captain of a smuggling ship that stopped at Port Vebator for resupplying told us that the internal strife in Shiks has been quelled.

"Naturally, we can't be sure whether it's true. But even if it's not, we must consider it to be true. Given Majid III's temperament, he definitely wouldn't admit to losing the colonial wars. Perhaps he's already started recruiting for his new standing corps in preparation to attack our colonies once more.

"Next year, I'm going to move theatre headquarters to Wickhamsburg. Currently, Cromwell and Balingana are our core base. Even if Shiks manages to conquer Port Vebator, we can't afford to use scorched earth in those two colonies any longer. We must face them till the end.

"General Eiblont, take a folk from Thundercrash and station them in Moknad next year. Make sure the border between our colony and the nikancha nation is clearly defined. General Birkin, you're in charge of the defences and security of coastal areas near Port Vebator and Port Patres. Monolith's 1st Folk will be in your command. As for General Claude and I, we will take over defences and patrolling in the colonies in our theatre. When war breaks out, General Claude will be in charge of sending reinforcements."

Chapter 411 - Secret Orders from the First Prince

Even though the trees wanted silence, the wind didn't stop blowing.

All Claude wanted to do was to spend new year's eve in his home with his mother, wife and children peacefully. That was now ruined. Three days before the year's end, a letter from Wickhamsburg came by carrier eagle. General Bolonik rushed to Claude for a discussion.

"What did you say?!" Claude almost jumped. "Prince Hansbach sent someone to give us secret orders? You said the ambassador has arrived in Wickhamsburg and the carrier eagle message said we must be there before the secret orders can be unveiled?"

"That's right. General Eiblont and General Skri are already there. The ambassador appointed us both by name. They said we have to all be there for him to hand us the orders. Currently, General Birkin is also making his way for Wickhamsburg. Do you think we should go immediately as well?" Bolonik himself seemed rather troubled by it. His family had just moved to Lanu during the past half a year. He wanted to spend new year's eve with them too.

However, they had no choice. Currently, both Prince Hansbach and Prince Wedrick, now known as Stellin XI after his coronation, weren't people Claude and the rest could afford to offend. Since an ambassador was sent, they couldn't afford to not start rushing to the city immediately. They couldn't even dally for new year's eve.

Claude and Bolonik had talked about what this could be about on their journey there. Neither of them knew what an ambassador for the first prince could be there for. They were far away on Nubissia and the fleets of Storm and Fearless were controlled by the royal capital. There was no way they would be able to contribute to the civil war on either side. Was Prince Hansbach trying to get Thundercrash and Monolith to rebel on Nubissia?

It would be a fool's errand. During the 9th month, the first prince led his troops to fight Griffon at Audin Mountain Range. After both sides suffered heavy casualties, he retreated with his troops to Eimis and stopped fighting altogether. Was he trying to use the two colonial corps to distract the royal capital?

There was nothing that would achieve. All the royal capital had to do was to stop shipments to Nubissia to be able to completely isolate the colonies. They would simply return to Nubissia to quell the rebellion after the civil war was settled. It would serve to do nothing but brand Claude and the rest as traitors.

On the 7th of the 1st month of Year 592, the two generals arrived at Wickhamsburg with their guards and attendants. They didn't bother to wash up and went to meet the ambassador from the first prince immediately. He was a soldier in his forties and introduced himself as Lieutenant-Colonel Henry. With a stern face, he looked through Claude and Bolonik's identification papers and opened a small case he took with him to take out a document.

Claude received the document and handed it to Bolonik. As the acting field marshal, he held most seniority, so he would be the first to look it through. Bolonik undid the wax seal without holding back.

His expression turned dark almost immediately as he shuddered. The veins on his hands holding the order popped. Claude was stunned and whispered whether he was okay. Bolonik handed the order to him and said, "Look at it yourself!"

He took the order and understood why Bolonik reacted the way he did. It was infuriating, to say the least. The order was simple: Claude and Bolonik were to mobilise Thundercrash and Monolith and go to Port Vebator to await the Shiksan fleet, Seaking, and the navy of the Alliance!

Prince Hansbach had basically ordered the generals to hand over the colony of Vebator back to Shiks. Not only that, he wanted them to cede Cromwell and Balingana to them too in exchange for Seaking and the Alliance's navy to ship the two corps back to the mainland to fight for him and his throne.

Claude handed the order to Skri with a grim look. Now, he knew why the ambassador insisted that all of them were there to reveal the order. Had they known what was in it, Claude would never go to Wickhamsburg. He would have plenty of excuses not to.

Now that they've seen it, there was only one choice. He could choose to accept the order to serve the first prince and take Thundercrash to serve him, all the while being labelled a traitor to the kingdom in handing over Vebator, Cromwell and Balingana to Shiks.

The other option would be to break off with Prince Hansbach entirely and ignore his orders, but that carried a lot of risk as well. If the first prince succeeded in wrestling the throne away, putting aside the fact that Claude and the others who disobeyed his orders would be punished, betraying the first prince, their benefactor, probably wouldn't look good to them. Prince Hansbach was the one who had a hand in Claude's quick promotions and the reception of his knighthood, which eventually helped him gain Miselk's attention. It was only after becoming his disciple that Claude managed to achieve what he did today.

All five generals were equally as gloomy by the time they finished reading the order. Nobody would expect the first prince to make this move. Skri, being the prince's former aide and confidant, was so angry that his body shook. He had put in the most effort on Balingana and Cromwell to push them on the path of development.

Yet, the first prince's order was for the two colonies to be handed over to Shiks. How could Skri be willing to do that? He made sure to check the signature and seal once more, only to be disappointed. It was indeed from Prince Hansbach instead of a forgery.

Skri paled and slumped weakly into his chair, muttering, "I don't believe His Highness would give such an order..."

The self-proclaimed lieutenant-colonel, Henry, looked at the five generals, unmoved.

"Generals, since you've seen the order, please act immediately. Gather Thundercrash and Monolith at Port Vebator. I will send someone back to notify Seaking and the Alliance's navy to take you from the port to His Highness. You have two months to prepare.

"Additionally, I will remain here as His Highness's ambassador and handle the agreement His Highness struck with Shiks. I shall ensure the colonies of Vebator, Balingana and Cromwell be transferred over without issue. His Highness has also asked me to pass on some words to you. Losing them now doesn't mean we lose them forever. When His Highness takes the throne, the kingdom shall be renewed. We will be able to retake what we've lost."

Claude snorted. Anybody could say something like that. Prince Hansbach was obviously trying to trade the colonies for a more powerful army on the mainland. With Thundercrash and Monolith gone from Nubissia, Shiks would only need two to three standing corps to take all the remaining Aueran colonies. Even if Prince Hansbach took the throne, he would never admit that he was the one that caused the colonies to fall to Shiks and he would blame them on Claude and the rest.

"No! I refuse to acknowledge this as a personal order from His Highness! His Highness definitely has been misled by crooks around him. He would never cede the kingdom's territory to the enemy!" Skri said, jumping out of his chair and preparing to tear the order.

Claude acted quickly. He held Skri down and said, "Give me the order and let me deal with this."

Skri easily handed it to him and sat back down, clutching his face with both hands. He seemed completely torn up.

"Apologies, Mister Henry--" Claude intentionally ignored the ambassador's military uniform and lieutenant-colonel shoulder mark. "--We've shown you a side we didn't mean to. However, Thundercrash won't accept this order. As soldiers, we protect our nation. Even if His Highness takes the throne and becomes king, I'm sure His Highness would understand the plight of the soldiers here far away on Nubissia and forgive us. The colonies are also national territory and they should never be handed to the enemy, especially one that had lost to us."

"I agree with our corpsman," Eiblont said, "The kingdom's colonies are sacred and the enemy shall not be allowed to desecrate them! Thundercrash's mission is to protect the colonies, not to hand them to the enemy!"

"You! Do you understand the consequences of disobeying His Highness?!"

The ambassador reacted with anger, not anticipating the response. Weren't the soldiers on the continent of Nubissia loyal to the first prince? He had thought that the mission wouldn't be that difficult, apart from the long distance he had to travel. Little did he know he would actually be given a negative response.

Claude smirked.

"Of course we do. If we follow this order, all of the kingdom's colonies will be lost. Prince Hansbach would never bear such responsibility for us. Even if His Highness takes the throne, we, and our families, will all be considered traitors. Even our descendants will forever be shamed for our deeds! Go tell His Highness that there are more than two million immigrants from the mainland in Balignana and Cromwell. We will never abandon them to Shiks!"

"You... you can simply send them back to the mainland..." Henry muttered.

During the time he spent in Wickhamsburg awaiting Claude and Bolonik's arrival, he had been treated rather well by Skri and had seen the development going on in Cromwell. He knew what Claude said was true. The colonies did have large numbers of mainland immigrants, all of them Aueran citizens.

Moving them back was easier said than done. Bolonik waved just as Claude was about to respond and gave his firm answer.

"Go back and tell His Highness that Monolith shall not obey such an order either. Monolith was formed by Lord Militant Miselk to defend the colonies of our kingdom. Our mission is to remain here, not to sell our kingdom out and fight the civil war between the two princes back on the mainland! Should His Highness become king, we shall take any blame and punishment to come our way!"

The ambassador walked towards the exit with a stern look.

Bolonik turned to Birkin and said, "Bick, escort him back to Port Vebator and make sure the defences there are strengthened. Shiks wanted to go through the first prince to take their port back and even get us to hand over Cromwell and Balingana. Now we've refused to obey, Shiks' plans are ruined. I suspect they'll react with anger and hostility and mount a naval attack against us."

"Understood." Birkin prepared to leave the room.

"Wait, Bick," Claude called out, "Ask the ambassador whether he knows of Lord Militant Miselk's whereabouts."

Skri looked up and said, "There's no need. He doesn't know. During the time you were absent, I took him around the colony to see how we're developing and asked much about the first prince. He was really tight lipped and only revealed that the first prince would be staging a huge campaign after the new year, hence the need for more troops. That's why he came to summon our two corps.

"However, there wasn't a need for him to hide anything about the Lord Militant. He's not currently under the wing of the first prince. The ambassador had once heard a drunk aide to the prince talk about him. He cursed the Lord Militant for not acting befitting of his station. It was said that he had met the first prince after the latter left the royal capital and the two parted on bad terms because the Lord Militant refused to help His Highness fight for the throne."

Claude, Bolonik, Eiblont and Birkin breathed a sigh of relief. Since even Miselk didn't agree to serve under the first prince, they no longer felt that pressured about refusing to comply to the orders. While the generals did owe the first prince for a good start to their careers, they had relied on their own efforts and Miselk's recommendations to progress even further.

While Claude and Skri were only made junior officers thanks to the first prince noticing their talents, the first prince didn't play much of a role for the rest of their careers all the way to becoming generals. Miselk, on the other hand, gave them huge pushes from behind. He recognised their talents and efforts and used his own name to vouch for them, allowing them to finally cross the great divide between a field officer and a general officer and be promoted major-generals.

"What do we do next?" Bolonik asked with a look of resignation.

"Let's relay all this to the capital," Claude said after some thought, "There's a saying the old and wise always bring up. Only a child that makes noise gets candy. If we keep this under wraps, if word of this gets out some other way, the bigwigs in the royal capital will suspect we have some sort of arrangement with the first prince. Now that we've refused His Highness, let's make sure to stay in the good graces of the royal capital.

"We'll tell them everything and make sure they understand we're loyal to the kingdom. Let us also bring up how we're severely stripped for funding. Perhaps the bigwigs will approve a large sum for development to appease us so as to not waste our refusal to follow Prince Hansbach's orders to keep the colonies in the kingdom's hands."

"Oh, so we should spread word of our refusal far and wide then. That way, we can craft a narrative to prevent others from casting us as ungrateful bastards. It's not that we aren't thankful to the first prince for noticing us and giving us an opportunity in our careers. We simply refuse to be traitors to the kingdom," Eiblont said, still bothered by the first prince's secret orders.

Bolonik turned to Claude, shaking his head in resignation. "Keep the secret order well. It will be proof of our innocence. We'll handle the rest according to your suggestions. Hopefully, the royal capital understands our plight and will provide us with some aid."

Chapter 412 - Downsizing and Shocking News

The more one hopes, the harder one gets disappointed. The royal capital didn't give the colonies a swift reply. The theatre headquarters sent word about the first prince's secret order by carrier eagle to the communications department in Tyrrsim on the 8th of the 1st month for it to be sent by one of Storm's fleets to Whitestag, after which the letter would be sent to the royal capital by carrier eagle to the ministry of the army.

Only on the 2nd of the 3rd month did they receive a reply from the ministry. It was rather quick and happened within a span of two months, which was quite impressive considering they were continents apart separated by a large ocean. What the generals didn't expect was the response amounted to nothing more than a simple note of acknowledgement.

There was no effort in calming them down. Instead, the tone of the reply sounded like a rebuke and warning for the generals to act within their station and not step beyond it, and that the civil war in the kingdom would calm down soon. The ministry of the army was confident that with Stellin XI's leadership, they would be able to eliminate the rebels soon.

If that had been all, it would've been fine and Claude and the rest would merely have been fussing over something unimportant. Perhaps the bigwigs in the royal capital thought the generals on Nubissia were a little lonely and wanted to play a part in the civil war, so they made up such a ridiculous lie about the first prince giving them secret orders.

Not a single one of them were willing to believe that Prince Hansbach would actually work with Shiks. What reason would he have for handing Vebator, Cromwell and Balingana over? Just as payment for Shiks and the navy of the Alliance to ship Monolith and Thunderrash back to the mainland?

It became a huge joke. The first prince now commanded Bluefeather and three other standing corps, having a total of 200 thousand troops. His goal should be to break through the defence line at Audin Mountain Range, not ship two irregular corps back from the distant Nubissia and paying a ridiculous price of three colonies for it. Surely he was no fool like that.

As such, the bigwigs considered the report by Claude and company nothing more than a lie with the aim to get the capital to give them more funding to develop the colonies. It was merely a money-grubbing tactic that wasn't worth entertaining at all.

Apart from some minor admonishment, the reply stated that the kingdom was short on funds too and had none to give away. Following was the crucial matter: since the war in the colonies had ended, the ministry of the army believed that there was no need for two corps of 130 thousand troops to be maintained in the theatre. They demanded a cut to the military budget.

The generals in the theatre felt that they had been fed a pile of crap. Their repayment for pledging loyalty to the royal capital was returned with an order to downsize instead. No general would be willing to relieve their own men. The royal capital's intentions were clear: since the theatre lacked the funds, just downsize to save on costs!

Thankfully, the ministry of the army knew that Shiks' ambitions for the distant Nubissia had yet to wane, so they didn't actually intend for the two irregular corps to be downsized to the point of having only a skeletal structure remaining. Instead, they gave a set number. Each corps only had to maintain 40 thousand men, so they would be able to relieve 50 thousand men and save around 160 thousand crowns in military expenditure yearly.

Seeing how it backfired, Claude swore he would never play tricks like that again. There was no guessing what went through the minds of those at the top. Somehow, they always took the opposite from what he was trying to convey. In this instance, Claude and the rest reported it to the royal capital about it to show that they were loyal, but the bigwigs thought that they were merely making stuff up as leverage for more funding and gave them a return slap on the face to put them in their places.

Bolonik wore a horrible frown on his face. He didn't think the royal capital would actually respond with an order for downsizing. Among the two million immigrants in Cromwell and Balingana, there were more than 100 thousand youths fit to be recruited into the army, and that was just counting those in their twenties. There were far more who ranged up to their thirties. They were all waiting for Thundercrash and Monolith to start their draft so they may get some land or property as well.

If the theatre was going to enlist 100 thousand new recruits, around 600 thousand immigrants could be settled. As family members to the recruits, they could get either 5 acres of farmland or 50 acres of pastures. That would also reduce the burden of the theatre to provide them with jobs. Naturally, they couldn't just recruit 100 thousand soldiers just like that. They were preparing to let go of hundred thousand veterans who served their term and recruit another hundred thousand to replace them.

Yet, now, another 40 thousand soldiers had to be discharged apart from the 10 thousand that were already leaving. Many immigrants had set their sights on the positions of the veterans that were retiring. They couldn't wait for one of their sons to become a member of their force so that their families could get their own piece of land. If they knew that even that was out of the question and they would have to work jobs to make a living in the colonies, who knew how huge a commotion that would cause in the colonies?

"Let's hear it. How should we even begin to downsize?" Bolonik powerlessly asked. Since the royal capital had given their orders, they had to be obeyed. They couldn't just ignore it because they were on Nubissia. That would be no different from rebelling.

Eiblont stroked his chin and said, "To let go of 40 thousand men for each corps... The royal capital's intentions are clear. They only want us to maintain one full folk for each corps and another skeleton folk. We are only to arm up when there's a war."

The generals were aware of that fact even if it wasn't stated. The local irregular corps on the mainland also maintained a skeleton crew during peacetime. For instance, a folk had four lines and each line only maintained a full tribe. As for the other three tribes, only the officers were kept. All they needed to handle emergency situations with was that full tribe. The other three would play a role of moral support and cheer from the sidelines.

The issue was it wouldn't be that easy to even downsize Thundercrash and Monolith. Currently, each corps had two folks. One would be full and the other would have to be a skeleton unit. The officers relegated to the skeleton unit would no doubt feel like they were being abandoned. If they were left in the gutter like that, there was little chance they would be able to perform and advance in their careers and frustration could build from that. The commanders of the corps would also turn their attention to the fully staffed folk and leave the skeleton folk on the sidelines. It would cause a great rift between officers in the corps.

During the high-level strategy class discussions, Miselk had criticised this skeleton-unit practice. He believed that one unit fully staffed and another practically barebones had the most negative impact. That was because the officers on the top would focus on the fully staffed unit and assign their most elite officers and troops there, leaving the more lacklustre troops in the skeleton unit and causing a huge difference in the abilities between the two units.

In time, the fully staffed one would be utilised more and more and the resources would drift in their favour whereas the skeleton unit would be left to rot and neglect. The officers that remained to keep it running at the most basic level would lose their drive. By the time war broke out, the disparity in might between the two units would be far too pronounced and the former skeleton unit would drag the rest of their comrades down and possibly even be a great threat to their own allies.

"Alright, let's not consider the reorganisation first. Let us think about how we should deal with the 50 thousand discharged men. Do we just let them head home like that?" Bolonik was wracking his head to deal with this problem. For the 100 thousand households of the soldiers discharged after the five-year war, they moved to Anfiston in the first place for the 1.6 acres of farmland and to serve out their term in the military to obtain dignitarian status.

If anyone were to be discharged now, the discharged soldiers who just started serving again would be the first ones to go. While they would still be given either 5 acres of farmland or 50 acres of pastures, they wouldn't be able to obtain dignitarian status as their terms weren't over. A riot would easily ensue.

Birkin, on the other hand, didn't really care about the 50 thousand men who were soon to be discharged. He said they could continue to serve even after that. Since Thundercrash and Monolith were both considered irregular corps, there would be no difference if the men served in the corps itself or as local garrison soldiers. The theatre could simply transfer the men discharged from the downsizing into the garrison. For instance, Port Vebator, Port Patres, Wickhamsburg and the other four citadels needed to be defended as well. There was also a need for a line of garrison troops to defend the soon-to-be-renovated Moknad.

Birkin believed that apart from Anfiston, where Saljorak had formed a garrison unit, Robisto, Balingana, Cromwell and Vebator didn't have the same. The four colonies were mainly defended by Thundercrash and Monolith. In a sense, the two corps' forces were distributed and they didn't have the ability to deliver a powerful counter blow when the time came to it.

With the royal capital now calling for a downsizing to save on military costs, the best thing to do would be to transfer the discharged soldiers to the local garrison forces. The two corps could simply leave them in charge of defending the four colonies' key locales. That way, they would be able to consolidate their forces and more effectively face the Shiksan threat.

It was indeed a rather good solution. The discharged soldiers would have somewhere to go without having to cause a fuss. It would definitely be quite a tempting offer to the older soldiers in their thirties. If a line of garrison troops was formed in each of the key locales Birkin brought up, it would be enough to accommodate 50 thousand men.

However, that came with another problem in itself. They would still have to pay the costs for the garrison units. However, the theatre couldn't afford to pay the cost for the firearms and ammunition those garrison troops would require. According to Skri's calculations, if they were to form fully staffed garrison units in those four colonies, they wouldn't be downsizing, but rather, expanding.

The four colonies needed nine lines of garrison troops in total. If those nine lines comprised veterans from Thundercrash and Monolith and the 10 thousand veterans to be discharged during the latter half of the year, 20 thousand new recruits would have to be enlisted into the two corps to make up for that number. Bolonik breathed a sigh of relief as the immigrant youths would have a wealth of opportunities to serve.

In the coming month, the theatre was busy with the downsizing. The generals had to properly consider which troops to send to which garrison unit and which officers would be transferred to manage them. Not only would they have to ensure the corps' might wouldn't be affected, they couldn't let the garrisons devolve into a disorganised mob either. Their plan was to have the garrison soldiers be reserve units for the two corps for future battles.

When the nine garrison lines were being formed in the 5th month, a piece of shocking news came from the royal capital. Everyone who heard it was absolutely floored.

On the 2nd month of Year 592, Prince Hansbach worked with the Alliance and Shiks' navies to lock down Aueras' Fearless fleet at the two port cities of former Sidins territory. That was something Fearless didn't expect at all and it was an absolute catastrophe. When Prince Hansbach mounted his rebellion, he sent his troops on land to Audin Mountain Range at once and ignored the coastal cities, causing Fearless to lower their guard. They didn't think the prince would end up targeting them.

Fearless ended up obliterated by the combined attack of the two foreign navies. Not a single small vessel was able to escape to send word of their defeat. What followed was the Freian rainy season throughout the third month. Usually, Fearless wouldn't set out sailing during that time and the seas around the kingdom were sealed off anyway, so the ministry of the navy didn't take note of it at all.

But after the rainy season, Prince Hansbach had Bluefeather and a standing corps ferried to the kingdom's eastern coast by Seaking and the Alliance's navy. On the 5th of the 4th month, the prince reached a shallow-water beach within a hundred kilometres of Ibnist Plains and deployed his two corps on the shore with small boats, locking down the entire stretch of coasts there.

The first prince's informants had also placed a few hundred large and sealed wooden boxes near the beach. When they saw the boats approach, they pushed the boxes into the sea and linked them together with chains. Soon, a few floating bridges could be seen stretching into the ocean. When they linked with the navies' transport vessels, the large-scale troop deployment began.

In the span of six days from the 5th to the 11th of the 4th month, Bluefeather and the other standing corps arrived on the shores almost without suffering any casualties. They only lost three light-infantry cannons and six soldiers throughout the process. Nobody was aware that Prince Hansbach had circled around Audin Mountain Range by the sea into the kingdom's heartland with his two corps.

On the 16th of the 4th month, Prince Hansbach had his troops split up as they entered Ibnist Plains. When they were less than two days away from the royal capital, the government was finally made aware of the impending attack. The city fell into uncontrollable chaos immediately.

Nobody could've imagined Prince Hansbach would mount that miraculous troop manoeuvre without any warning signs. The royal capital had sent nearly the whole royal guard corps to Audin Mountain Range to stop the first prince there. Less than a folk of royal guards remained and they weren't able to resist the two hostile corps at all.

Prince Wedrick, now known as Stellin XI, once more showed how adept he was at running. As the bigwigs in the royal capital were deliberating on whether they should retreat or defend, the new king had fled with his attendants and ten plus carriages' worth of treasures to the prefecture of Botarnia. That was where Reddragon, one of the main standing corps of Aueras, was stationed. His father-in-law, Lord Militant Siegfeld, was its corpsman. Only there would the second prince be safe.

On the 17th of the 4th month, Year 592, Bluefeather arrived at the royal capital. On the 18th, Prince Hansbach arrived at the royal capital. On the 21st, he entered the city and Bluefeather gleefully held a victory parade there.

Chapter 413 - Restructuring and Huge Bombshell

"I see... so we're all merely a side dish..." Bolonik grimaced.

The map of the kingdom's mainland was laid out on the table. On it, a red line drawn across it marked the route Prince Hansbach used to attack the royal capital. The generals now understood why he had sent the order and prepared to hand Shiks Cromwell, Balingana and Vebator.

They had thought Prince Hansbach had gone crazy for the throne, hence his irrational decision just to get Thundercrash and Monolith to add to his forces. Now, they understood that the first prince's agreement with Shiks also included getting their cooperation to take out the unprepared Fearless before transporting Bluefeather and another standing corps around Audin Mountain Range by sea to appear in Ibnist Plains to take the capital.

It was a genius manoeuvre that was out of everyone's expectations. The wide expanse of the sea had actually been used by the first prince to move his forces. The bigwigs in the capital only knew to congregate in the Audin Mountain Range to stop the first prince in the newly conquered territories and wait for Prince Wedrick to stabilise the situation in the kingdom before crushing the first prince.

No matter how one analysed it, Wedrick, who had occupied two-thirds of the kingdom's mainland was far more powerful than Hansbach. While nearly a decade had passed since the five-year war, the kingdom's economy hadn't recovered much and the newly-conquered territories weren't doing well either. Dragging out the civil war would not be beneficial for the first prince.

As Bolonik and the others had personally discussed, they didn't really see a future for Prince Hansbach. He had insufficient manpower and even less firearms and ammunition. The new territories couldn't take on the rest of the kingdom. War was a battle of logistics and economic power, after all. Claude had wondered how the first prince was going to sustain his rebellion when he inevitably ran out of resources.

Other factors aside, Wedrick controlled the capital and his reign was rightful. Most of the kingdom's factions supported him. He also had the support of the old nobility's five military industrial complexes. The first prince only had the incomplete industrial sector in the three southern prefectures, which couldn't even begin to compare.

That was why his order infuriated the generals. Claude also used it to break off from the first prince for good in fear of Wedrick, after he emerged from the civil war and solidified his position, coming for them for affiliating with the first prince. It was too bad the bigwigs in the capital didn't take his secret order serious, even ordering them to downsize.

It was too late to regret now they finally understood the first prince's true plans. No wonder the first prince was willing to offer three colonies to Shiks. Without the help of Seaking and the Alliance's navy, he would never have pulled off this manoeuvre.

The generals had made the wrong move. They didn't think the first prince had much of a chance to succeed and refused to obey his orders, which was a betrayal of their benefactor. They now had to bear the consequences. The surprise attack had succeeded and the prince now had the capital. The second prince had fled and the war had turned.

"We've already refused the order. Why would Shiks still help the prince?" General Eiblont asked.

Skri shook his head.

"Don't forget we don't have full say over the colonies. If the first prince defeats the second and becomes king, we cannot stop him from handing over the colonies regardless."

"Most importantly," Birkin stressed, "We've got on Prince Hansbach's bad side. I doubt anything good will happen to us if he wins. I understand his temper too well to think otherwise. He's generous to low-ranked officers, but extremely biased against high-ranked officers like us. We'll not be forgiven for this."

Skri nodded helplessly. He had served as the prince's aide during the five-year war. He, too, knew him well. He was kind to the grunts, and cold to the generals. He mocked and laughed at them at best, and humiliated them at worst.

Claude smiled resignedly. The prince had turned a useless hand into a royal flush. Nobody could be sure he didn't have any other tricks up his sleeves. If this didn't end the war, the rest of the kingdom would be dragged into it shortly.

Claude didn't regret his decision to break with the prince, however. He had to defend his and his family's honour. Even if he had obeyed, the first prince would still blame him and his companions for the colonies' loss. They would be forever branded traitors. Only a fool willingly became a scapegoat.

"There's no point talking about this anymore. Since we've pledged our loyalty to Prince Wedrick, we must go all the way. Hansbach has taken the capital, but the rest of the original kingdom is still against him. Wedrick still has Reddragon, the royal guard, Griffon, three of the four standing corps, not to mention the rest of the kingdom's territory and all the industry and manpower that entails. And they'll all rise up at his word. Hansbach might still be chased out of the royal capital by its very citizens before the year's out," Bolonik consoled.

Claude nodded.

"There's no point in panicking until we receive orders from the mainland. Let's focus on downsizing and reorganising for now. I've come up with a plan. If we don't reorganise around a full folk and a skeleton folk for either corps, why don't we go for a three-three command structure? We'll have both folks in each corps maintain similar combat capability."

"Three-three? What's that?" Eiblont asked.

"It's simple--" Claude took out a piece of paper and started writing. "--Currently, when each corps is fully-staffed, it uses a four-four-two structure; so we have four tents in a band, four bands in a clan, four clans in a tribe, four tribes in a line, four lines in a folk and two folks in a corps. Each corps has 63 thousand men.

"Three-three has three tents in a band, three bands in a clan, three clans in a tribe, three tribes in a line, three lines in a brigade, three brigades in a folk and three folks in a corps. That way, each folk will have 21 thousand men. For now, we'll maintain two folks in each corps. We can expand to the full three when war starts. That way, we'll have the same 63 thousand men in one corps."

Bolonik made some quick calculations on a piece of paper. Each tent had 12 soldiers and a band with three tents, bandsmen and other staff numbered 40. Each clan would then have 120 soldiers. Coupled with the clansman, guards, signallers, healers, ordermen and other attendants, as well as a cannoneer tent and support tent, a tent would have 150 men.

A tribe of three tents would thus have roughly 560, and a line of three tribes around two thousand. Three lines would make a brigade of 6500, and three brigades a folk of 21 thousand. With the three-three structure, both Thundercrash and Monolith could maintain two folks of similar might.

The generals hesitated at the lines being smaller, however. Aueras usually used large lines with five to six thousand men. Thundercrash and Monolith's lines were enhanced, so they had seven thousand each. Each folk, coupled with direct-command units and the additional enhanced tribe could go up to 32 thousand.

Usually, only two-thirds of the men in a corps could fight. The rest filled support roles or were direct-command units that reported to corps command directly, making a corps rather bloated. Claude's three-three structure used small lines comprised entirely of combat personnel. There was also the additional brigade units in between the line and folk units, which were weird for the other generals. They thought it was nothing more than a different name for a large line since it had a similar number of people.

The generals started arguing over the changes. Some agreed to Claude's use of smaller lines, while others believed shuffling the chain of command wasn't a good idea. However, they were unanimous in that adding a brigade would add another layer of trouble. It meant orders from the top had to pass yet another layer to get to where it needed to go.

Claude believed large lines were out of date. Warfare on Freia had been fought with line-and-march tactics until the arrival of the precision-shooting musket, so the more troops huddled together, the better. Since most attack or defence operations were carried out by a line or bigger, it was preferable to have many troops.

But the five-year war and the colonial wars had proven line-and-march tactics obsolete. Mobile units, precise firing and strong defences were the order of the day now.

Both Thundercrash and Monolith had completely abandoned line and march and moved to precise fire in both attack and defence. With the help of their new mortars, Claude believed using smaller lines was much better.

While the rest agreed with his explanation of the benefits of smaller lines, they didn't agree with the three-three structure. Mainly because of the brigade. Including it would make their organisational hierarchy too different from normal Aueran corps and it would be hard to put the change through the ministry of the army. It could even be construed as a crime.

However, the proposal still did give them some inspiration. After gaining more insights through a heated debate, Bolonik, as the field marshal, decided to use a four-four-five structure for each corps.

It meant all everything up to a line would be untouched. They would still keep the four subunits structure: four tents to a band, four bands to a clan, four clans to a tribe of 800 men and four tribes to a line of 3600 men. A folk of 21 thousand men would thus have five lines and additional support staff.

That way, Thundercrash and Monolith could each maintain two folks of similar combat strength and expand to have another folk during wartime. They breathed a sigh of relief after settling on the new structure. However, Birkin brought up whether they should use the same structure for the nine new garrison lines. After all, they would be reserve forces for the two corps, so sharing a structure might be better.

But if they decided to use the new structure, they would have to form twelve lines instead of nine. In the end, Bolonik decided to station two lines in Port Vebator instead of one, Port Patres and the soon-to-be-rebuilt Moknad for the three additional lines they needed.

During the latter part of the 5th month, Bolonik went to the colony of Tyrrsim to meet with the viceroys and high-commissioners of Tyrrsim, Aduras and Mormaly to discuss military funding. Before he left, he handed the task of restructuring the corps and the formation of the twelve garrison lines to Claude, Eiblont, Birkin and Skri.

By the middle of the 6th month, Bolonik sent word by carrier eagle on how the discussions with the viceroys and high-commissioners didn't go well, and that he would be returning during the 7th month. But during the 7th month, Bolonik lost contact with the rest. War theatre headquarters had sent a few carrier eagles, but didn't receive any reply.

On the 23rd of the 7th month, Weyblon barged into headquarters and brought them a huge bombshell: Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras' viceroys and high-commissioners had declared their loyalty to Prince Hansbach and had taken Bolonik hostage. They had sealed the borders with their private forces and were planning to demand their surrender under threat of killing the field marshal.

Claude's first response was disbelief. Were the viceroys and high-commissioners fools? What were they counting on to threaten them, whom had two corps? They could easily send them north to completely demolish the three colonies. Did the viceroys and high-commissioners think they could fight back?

Chapter 414 - Reasoning

"General, you might not know this, but the prefectures of the kingdom have been thrown into chaos," Weyblon said, handing over the information he just collected to Claude.

It was probably the last of the reports the association received. For some reason, contact with the branches of the association in the capital had been cut. Storm in Whitestag had mutinied and betrayed Wedrick, pledging their loyalty to Prince Hansbach. Following that, the first prince deployed Storm to the eastern coast of the kingdom to take over the eliminated Fearless as the guardians of the area.

Perhaps Hansbach was wary of keeping the waters of the ocean coast safe because he had used them to mount a surprise attack and take the capital. But when Storm set sail for the east, there was no longer a way to facilitate shipment between the two continents as Fearless was unavailable for escort. The small number of naval officers who weren't willing to join Hansbach's side sailed to Port Cobius in Tyrrsim. In some sense, the colonies were considered to have opposing loyalties to Whitestag.

On the mainland, many cities and towns, Whitestag included, declared their allegiance to the first prince. His supporters played a large part in that. In one instance, two towns in a single prefecture of the kingdom declared their loyalties to different princes. Eventually, the garrisons of each town went to war with the other. Both sides declared each other traitors to the kingdom.

After Hansbach's capture of the capital during the 5th month, he ran a large recruitment drive to form a new corps. He also sent the standing corps that came with Bluefeather to set up a defence line along Lake Bryanopest on Ibnist Plains to cut off a route the royal guard could use to return to take the royal capital back. Following that, a cruel purge was held to clear out all the officials and people of power that were against the first prince. It was said that the people captured numbered up to 20 thousand, and more than three thousand had been decapitated or executed by firing squad.

The reports also stated that the prince even ordered for a few elders with blood relations to the Stellins to be killed for the reason of supporting Wedrick's ascension to the throne. Additionally, when they were captured by the first prince, they still banked on their seniority and relation to the royal family and refused to pay any ransom for themselves. In the end, their status was stripped and their families were exterminated.

The reason he decided on conducting the purge with such cruelty was his need for wealth to continue his civil war. Though he had occupied the capital, the treasuries of the royal family and the nation didn't contain that much wealth. There was an abundance of food and ammunition, but what he needed was money with which to pay his subordinates and form even more corps. So, he set his sights on the nobles and officials that were opposed to him. He ordered Bluefeather to put the capital on lockdown before arresting those on the list.

While conducting the purge, Hansbach also sent out notices to local officials all across the nation to beckon the officials to accept him as the rightful heir. He also announced that he would be coronated on the 10th of the 7th month. When the notices were sent out, chaos broke out all over the kingdom. Many factions supporting different princes formed their own factions and fought one another without exception.

Most naval officers of Storm stationed in Whitestag were supporters of Hansbach. Coupled with the fact that Viscount Felidos, the mayor of Whitestag, used to serve in Bluefeather, it was only natural for the city to side with the first prince. When the notice was sent out, Whitestag immediately responded in kind and pledged allegiance to the first prince. The naval officers that weren't willing to betray Prince Wedrick sailed to Nubissia with some of the ships immediately as there was no longer anywhere in Freia they could go, with all the coastal port cities in Hansbach's control.

Wedrick, who had run to Reddragon, hadn't been idling for the last two months either. With the help of his father-in-law, Lord Militant Siegfeld, he gathered the bigwigs and noble officials that escaped from the capital and reformed his royal court in Botarnia. The royal guard and Griffon now answered to the new royal court. Additionally, he declared in the name of Stellin XI that he would return to the royal capital one day to admonish the traitorous Hansbach, Bluefeather and other units that supported them.

That was how the kingdom was faring. Battles broke out almost everywhere and tensions were high as Hansbach prepared for his own coronation. Wedrick had also made his intentions to march the royal guard and Reddragon to the royal capital clear. Everyone in the kingdom knew that the battle that would take place on Ibnist Plains would decide which prince would become the proper, new Aueran king. Only one of the two could become victor.

Based on the current state of affairs, Hansbach held the advantage in battle. Since his surprise attack on the capital and Wedrick's escape, the scales had tipped heavily in his favour. There was no way Wedrick could compare to Hansbach in terms of commanding ability and even Lord Militant Siegfeld paled in comparison.

It was common knowledge that Siegfeld's rank didn't come as a result of his military contributions, but rather, his staunch loyalty over the course of four long decades to Stellin X. It was a reward for his enduring service through the years rather than any magnificent achievement. He definitely wouldn't be a match for Hansbach, who had experienced real battle.

Additionally, Hansbach also held the advantage in terms of resources, having captured the royal capital. The royal guard, in the end, rooted for the losing side. If the royal guard, that was hailed as the strongest among the four main standing corps of Aueras, could only barely keep up with their enemies on Ibnist Plains, their morale would definitely plummet in time. Hansbach had long made preparations and set up a defence line there. He was playing the long game and wanted to buy time to gather even more forces.

Back then, he had been stopped at Audin Mountain Range by Griffon and everyone thought the scales tipped in Wedrick's favour, thinking that Hansbach would soon be defeated. Now, the situation took a complete turn and saw Hansbach as having the lead. And the actions Wedrick took by leading the royal guard and Reddragon towards the capital only made it seem like a desperate death struggle.

Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras' viceroys and high-commissioners held that opinion. When the naval officers that weren't willing to pledge allegiance to the first prince arrived in Port Cobius and brought the news, they began to panic.

The current viceroy of Tyrrsim was no longer Claude's so-called godfather, Viscount Jerrihausen Van Cruz. That old man had retired to the capital with the riches he scoured from his colony two years ago. The new viceroy and high-commissioners were rather unfortunate. The moment they took over, the three colonies were being taxed for the military effort and there was no room for them to pocket anything.

But since those two managed to get on positions of power, there were many other ways money could be made so long as they were smart enough. They quickly turned their sights to intercontinental trade. The specialties of Nubissia were monopolised by the merchant guilds formed by the nobles and delivered only to the royal capital. However, it would still be possible for the ones ruling the colonies to stick their hands into it for some profit. The viceroys and high-commissioners of the three colonies outside the theatre partnered up and forced the ones in the capital to give them a cut. That alone made sure their pockets were filled to the brim.

However, the naval officers who reached Port Cobius brought them horrible news. Storm had betrayed Stellin XI and declared their allegiance to the first prince. In other words, contact between the two continents would be completely cut off. There would no longer be hundreds of transport vessels facilitating intercontinental trade. They might only be able to rely on a handful of private smuggling ships to travel between the continents.

The viceroys and high-commissioners didn't really care which prince they pledged allegiance to, as long as they could watch the chaos from the sidelines. None of them were actually willing to take part in the mess. All they had to do was to wait in Nubissia until one of the princes emerged the victor and pledge loyalty to him.

That was exactly what most of the officials in the kingdom had planned to do, but most of them were now involved in the mess and forced to take sides before the victor could be decided. The officials of the towns and local factions wracked their brains over which prince to choose and many who had planned to sit on the sidelines were forced to make a choice as their lives and those of their families were threatened.

Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras' viceroys and high-commissioners, however, took the initiative to dive into the chaos. Their wallets were their main priority and without intercontinental trade, their bottom-line profits were heavily impacted. They believed that by pledging loyalty to Hansbach, they would stand on the same side as Whitestag and trade between the continents could resume as usual.

Blinded by profit, they were completely ignorant of the conflict between the first prince and the theatre. All they knew was the ministry of the army had sent the theatre a rebuke and an order to downsize their army, so they turned their sights on Bolonik, who had come to negotiate. They believed that if they were able to convince him, and the theatre by extension, to join the camp of the first prince together, it would be seen as a contribution to the first prince.

They didn't think they would be running head first into a dead end with no room for negotiation. The two sides got into a heated argument. No matter how they tried to explain to Bolonik about the advantage Hansbach held and how they believed he would eventually become the Aueran king, Bolonik staunchly refused to declare his loyalty for him with them.

Angered, they sent guards to Bolonik's residence and after a short-lived conflict, Bolonik was injured and his guards were exterminated. He was later imprisoned. They intended to hand him over to the first prince as a token of their contributions and loyalty to the cause.

The way they saw it, Bolonik was a stubborn fellow and there would definitely be other generals in the theatre who didn't see the situation the same way. So, all they had to do was to arrest Bolonik and someone else would step up as the new field marshal to take his place. They could even use Bolonik to threaten them to join up with the first prince. It was a rather simple plan. If they weren't willing to comply, they'll release Bolonik and that would inevitably result in a conflict between him and the new field marshal.

They thought the generals to be no different from them. They believed they could use Bolonik to deal with the whole theatre. First, Bolonik's capture would leave the theatre without a leader and give rise to internal conflict. Second, some of the generals who wanted to take Bolonik's place would definitely work with them to pledge allegiance to the first prince. Third, they could use Bolonik's life as a threat to keep the theatre in check so they didn't send their troops to attack the three prefectures. Otherwise, they would have inadvertently become Bolonik's murderers.

After capturing Bolonik, the viceroys and high-commissioners did not rest and immediately dealt with the naval officers at Port Cobius who didn't want to join the first prince. They held a grand banquet to welcome them and once they were drunk enough, they sent their local garrison troops to capture them and put them into a cell.

After that, they posted their three local garrison lines at the border between Anfiston and Mormaly to lock the paths down, preventing the theatre from sending any troops to Bolonik's aid. They believed that the theatre wouldn't dare to send too many troops to risk getting Bolonik killed, so negotiation would be the only option. The moment they got into contact, they were confident they would be able to convince one of the generals to join up with Hansbach and might even be able to stir up internal conflict among the generals of the theatre.

That way, they would've resolved the threat of the two corps of the theatre. More importantly, if the theatre fell into chaos, they could then work their magic and earn more profit. Other things aside, they could swallow up the taxes intended to be sent to the theatre as military funding all for themselves. Without the funding, the troops of the theatre would definitely mutiny. By then, nobody would be able to challenge their three colonies.

However, they had underestimated the extensive information network of the mining association which the theatre had access to. They had thought they'd be able to keep the fact of Bolonik's capture hidden for up to half a month. They didn't think the signallers of the association in Port Cobius had recorded everything that happened quickly and sent word to the theatre about it along with the updates that came from the naval officers of Storm that refused to betray the kingdom. Weyblon then forwarded the information to theatre headquarters.

Claude waved his horsewhip around as he gave his orders. "Thundercrash Line 1301, Line 1302 and Line 1303, assemble and depart immediately. Make your way to the border of Mormaly within seven days. Myjack, take your enhanced tribe and leave with me."

Skri seemed rather anxious. "General Bolonik is still in their hands..."

Claude responded with a stoic look, "If anything happens to General Bolonik, I will have the viceroys, high-commissioners and all their families hanged from the trees along the main streets, be they elderly or infant. There will be no exceptions."

Chapter 415 - Rubbish Defence

Claude departed with Myjack and Thundercrash's Tribe 131 from Wickhamsburg. Even though they were light cavalry and rode nonstop, it took them twelve whole days to reach Anfiston's border. However, Berklin's Line 1301, Moriad's Line 1302 and Dyavid's Line 1303 were already in place. They rushed there seven days after receiving Claude's eagle message.

The three lines were in a standoff against the united local garrison lines of Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras. Each line numbered around six thousand and they outnumbered the reformed lines of Thundercrash. Additionally, they also dug three rows of trenches along the borders along a few hills and three citadels to make a simple defence line.

Claude had Myjack's tribe raise the general's banner so the army of the three colonies knew that the general had arrived. They immediately sent ambassadors to request an audience. Berklin, Moriad and Dyavid, however, still didn't understand the reason Claude asked them to gather.

The ambassador was an old man in his sixties that sported a long moustache. His two pea-like eyes spun quickly, giving him the air of a sharp-witted talker. As expected, he launched into a performance the moment he entered the main tent. First, he praised Claude for his exploits and achievements and brought up his amazing contributions during the colonial wars. Then, with a twist of his tongue, he expressed his feelings of regret that Claude had been relieved of his position as field marshal. Finally, he told Claude that the viceroys and high-commissioners were willing to cooperate with him.

As long as Claude joined them to pledge allegiance to the first prince, they would be willing to recommend Claude to the first prince as a candidate for the position of field marshal, giving him control over the military affairs over the theatre.

Claude narrowed his eyes and looked at the superficially smiling old man giving his spin of the military exploits of Prince Hansbach and illustrate all the benefits joining his side would bring. When he was finally done with his long-winded rant and wanted to ask for some refreshments, Claude summoned Gum, pointed at the old man and said, "Watch him. If he opens his mouth to speak, give him a slap. Remember: one slap for every word out of his mouth."

"Yes, General." Gum stood in front of the ambassador and watched his lips without blinking even once.

Claude then turned to Berklin and the others. "You still don't know why I've called you here, do you? It's simple. I'm giving you half an hour to prepare for an attack on the defence line. The bastard viceroys and high-commissioners had apprehended General Bolonik when he was there to negotiate about the taxes and military funding to threaten our theatre to pledge our loyalty to Prince Hansbach.

"I'm ordering you to get rid of the trash in front of me within three hours. Castle Moknad is being built and the silver mines nearby really needs more labourers. I would be more than happy to recruit these fellows who seem all too eager to work in the mines. Don't let a single free labourer go. Trust that the mining association would be more than willing to increase our military funding if we hand them these fools."

"Understood, General!" Berklin and the others' faces were a picture of bliss. They rubbed their palms together as they left the tent. Just moments ago, they were still unaware of the reason they were called there, but they didn't doubt the orders they were given. They had been getting shouted down by the allied soldiers on the other camp and couldn't wait to vent their frustrations.

They had thought they were there to witness some sort of military drill. After all, the garrisons of those three colonies were still their allies. So, they instructed their troops to ignore the insults and decided they would give them a good beating during the drill. They were all too used to slapping the faces of fools, after all.

The moment they set up camp, the other side sent them ambassadors to get a grasp on their forces. Berklin initially didn't really mind as he thought they were merely running a friendly military exercise, so he told the ambassador that he had come on Claude's orders. He also asked why the drill was being held and whether the garrisons of the three colonies would be reorganised into a single force, managing to confuse and deal with the ambassador temporarily.

It was only after Claude's arrival that they felt that something was off. What did the old ambassador mean when he mentioned joining the first prince? The theatre had already refused that offer during the start of the year. It was common knowledge among the higher-ranking officers in the theatre and they knew that they had utterly offended the first prince and would be seen as traitors.

It was only when Claude gave the order that they knew things were getting serious! They were so angry that they felt their rage boiling over. For some reason, the viceroys and high-commissioners actually dared to hold Bolonik, the acting field marshal, hostage. Would their trash-level forces really be able to withstand Thundercrash's attacks?

Seeing Claude order an attack, the ambassador instantly tried to stop it. "Gener--"

Slap! Gum sent his palm squarely into the face of the old man. He didn't care about anything but Claude's order to give him a slap for each word.

"Agh!" cried the ambassador. He didn't think Gum would be that forceful. His left cheek swelled immediately and blood filled his mouth. Whether it came from biting his tongue or having a tooth or more knocked loose, he wasn't aware. He fell straight to the ground.

Gum didn't let him go that easily. He picked the man up from the ground and gave one more slap. "One slap for the word, another for the cry."

The ambassador clutched his face tightly in fear that he would cry out once more and earn another slap.

Claude shot the man a cold glance, not minding the fact that he had just been slapped at all. "You three, wait for a bit. Don't be in such a rush. I'm not done yet. Once you're done with those piles of trash, Dyavid, I want you to leave a unit behind to watch the prisoners. The others, I need you to sweep Mormaly clean and capture everyone that's related to the viceroys and high-commissioners, especially their family members.

"Berklin, lead Line 1301 into Aduras and do the same as Dyavid. As for Moriad's forces, go to Tyrrsim with Myjack and save General Bolonik as well as capture Port Cobius. There's a temporary prison there. I heard near a thousand naval officers who aren't willing to join the first prince have been taken prisoner. Make sure to release them too."

"Understood, General." The three of them saluted before leaving the tent. Soon, the sounds of sharp brass whistles could be heard. The signal to deploy had been given.

"Let us go see witness the capabilities of those three fellows' troops. I hope they don't disappoint me. We shouldn't have to suffer many casualties against our rubbish enemies," Claude told Myjack as they left the tent together, mounted and left camp to watch the battle.

In fact, Berklin, Moriad and Dyavid did live up to his expectations. When the first wave of mortars exploded in the defences laid by the united garrison force, the troops of Thundercrash quickly overwhelmed the enemy formations without sustaining any casualties. Only two unlucky fools had fallen from their horses and sprained their legs, which couldn't really be considered combat casualties at all. Another rode into the trenches and scraped the skin off his forehead.

Claude realised that calling the united garrison troops rubbish was an understatement. Their performance wasn't even worth being called dog shit. When three lines of Thundercrash launched their first move, they fired their muskets in unison without even hitting a single target.

The forces of the three colonies weren't under the jurisdiction of the theatre. When Miselk came to the colonies with Ranger, he ordered Eiblont and Birkin to unite the garrison troops in the colonies into two irregular colonial corps to serve as Ranger folk's reserves. It didn't take the two generals long to be utterly disappointed in them.

The garrison troops of the three colonies were lazy arses who slacked off, bullied the weak and pocketed money. They counted on their firearms to oppress the nikancha. The two generals believed that no amount of strict training would be able to whip the trashy soldiers into shape and soon gave up on them. The three colonies weren't under the jurisdiction of the theatre anyway, so there was no need to spare that effort.

Claude really couldn't imagine where the confidence of the viceroys and high-commissioners came from. Did they really think their trash-level soldiers would be able to withstand an attack for either corps in the theatre? Who gave them that kind of bravery? Now, the disparity between their abilities was plain for all to see. The garrison soldiers merely fired at the sight of the attacking troops of Thundercrash without bothering to take aim or consider their firing range. The barrage did seem imposing, but it did nothing to harm their enemies.

After Thundercrash's sharpshooters fired the moment they reached their firing range, almost all the soldiers of the united garrison buried their heads in the trenches they had dug. They only dared to poke their guns out and pull the trigger without even aiming. The mortar troops behind the sharpshooters didn't even bother to dig their trenches. They charged straight on until they were 70 metres away and began setting up their mortars.

There was nothing that had to be said after that. After the first volley of mortars exploded, the united garrison was completely taken aback. During the next instant, Claude watched as the enemy lines dissolved into chaos not unlike a bee hive after being struck. Any soldier that could still move jumped out of their trenches and ran backwards, casting their weapons away as if they were weighing them down.

By the time the second wave of mortars were fired, only a few of them landed on empty ground. Many groups didn't bother to fire their mortars since the enemy had vanished into thin air. It was a scenario that they hadn't been prepared for in their training. They were completely stunned, unsure of whether they should continue firing their mortars as they had been drilled to.

Fortunately, the brass whistles at the rear dispelled their doubt. It was an order for the light-cavalry units to pursue. Claude shook his head in pity for the soldiers of the garrison. Did they think they could outrun cavalry on their own two feet? No matter how far they ran, they would end up captured all the same. It would be easier to leave their defence lines and surrender right away.

Berklin rode back and praised his unit proudly. Claude had given the three cavalry lines a time limit of three hours, yet, they managed to clear up the trash within one hour. Berklin quickly left with Line 1301 for Aduras, which was the northmost colony and rather far away. So, his unit didn't partake in the pursuit of the enemies here.

Two hours later, the pursuit ended. Most of the united garrison soldiers had been taken captive. Claude felt a little admiration for those local trash. While they couldn't put up a fight at all, they had many tricks up their sleeves when it came to running. Had Claude been more willing to waste some more time scouring for the rest of the trash that slipped away, his men would've been able to do it, but it was no matter. The three lines would soon take control of the three colonies. The deserters would end up captured all the same, unless they chose to live in the wilderness for the rest of their lives.

Claude took Tribe 131 and Line 1302 to Tyrrim. Dyavid and Line 1303 would take charge of Mormaly. Moriad, on the other hand, rode to Claude and seemed to have something he wanted to say.

Claude shot him a glance. "Just say it. What are you hesitating for? Do you think it's inappropriate for me to send troops out to all three colonies at once? No worries. They have already declared their loyalty for the first prince and are now traitors. What we're doing is perfectly legal."

Moriad spat on the ground. "I couldn't care less for them. As long as they're your orders, Chief, I'll even attack the royal palace for you. The thing I wanted to talk about is about some difficulties in the reorganisation of my units. I'm unable to deal with it on my own."

"Reorganisation difficulties? Didn't headquarters already release a clear guideline? What's so hard about following it?"

"Chief, there's something odd about that structure. We are unable to change it and nobody dares to bring it up in fear of embarrassing the generals..."

"Oh? Tell me what the problem is, then."

It turned out to be a problem with the tribe as an organisational unit. During the last meeting, Claude suggested for the use of small lines. In the end, Bolonik settled on making a line a unit of 3600 men. Tribes were also standardised to have 800 men. The issue was each tent had twelve men, and each band had 53. So, a clan with four bands made 212 men. If a direct-unit tent was included, each clan would have 240 men in total. Since four clans made a tribe, a tribe would have 960 men, yet the guideline from headquarters was for each tribe to have 800.

Cold sweat formed on Claude's forehead. They didn't even think to check the numbers when they made the decisions. A normal tribe was supposed to have around 1200 men. Apart from four combat clans, each tribe had a keeper band, support band, cannoneer band, guard tent and enforcer tent, a healer tent as well as staff. Sometimes, a tribe could easily shoot past 1200 men.

Assuming each tribe had 1200 men, each line of four tribes would thus have up to 4800. Coupled with the direct units that reported to corps command, a line would have 5600 men in total. Each folk of four lines including direct units would thus number 25 thousand men, and a corps of two lines would have more than 60 thousand men.

Claude discovered to his disappointment that it was rather pointless to change the standard organisational structure of irregular corps, unless they decided to reshape an enhanced folk into a normal corps. Thundercrash and Monolith had 130 thousand men in total and no matter how they restructured, they could only cut ten thousand men from their roster. It would merely be downgrading an enhanced unit to a normal one.

Curse that order to downsize! Couldn't he just ignore it? With the kingdom being in such dire straits, whether Prince Wedrick could actually lay claim to the moniker of Stellin XI was still unknown! The kingdom's authorities were far away on the mainland and with this military excursion, the theatre would gain control of Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras. Basically, they'd have a hold on the whole theatre! Since they still had to prepare for the Shiksan invasion in the colonies, there wasn't a point in downsizing!

Claude said, "Forget it then. Keep the original structure. I'll have a discussion with the other generals and rectify that error. What we have to make sure is to take Port Cobius the soonest we can and rescue General Bolonik."

Chapter 416 - Absorbed into the Theatre

Soon, Claude got to see Bolonik. However, the latter didn't look too well, though, that was to be expected from someone shot in his right abdomen. The viceroys and high-commissioners of the three colonies didn't give him the best treatment and environment to recover, so his wounds still hadn't healed much after half a month.

There was nothing much to say about the capture of Port Cobius. Thundercrash's Tribe 131 reached the city outskirts without the enemy noticing. The guards only started to close the gates in a hurry once they reached the inner city. When the viceroys and high-commissioners of the three colonies hurriedly ordered their personal guardsmen to go on the walls, they realised they were completely trapped.

They had wanted to threaten Claude with Bolonik's life and demand he retreat. However, Claude had the ambassador hand them a letter. Once the old ambassador was hauled up the walls with a makeshift rope elevator, they were completely stupefied when they read the letter.

Claude merely wrote a few short sentences there, stating the same things he did to Skri before he set out. If the slightest bad thing happened to Bolonik, he would simply send the viceroys and high-commissioners to meet the war god. Claude swore that if Bolonik came to serious harm, he would have them and their family members hanged from the trees along the streets without exception.

It finally dawned on them that the situation was completely different from what they had imagined. The imprisoned Bolonik was now a hot potato. Bolonik's life, something they had intended to use as a bargaining chip with Claude, had turned into the instrument of Claude's threat.

Just as they were arguing about what they should do, Claude ordered Tribe 131 to fire mortars up the walls. The first wave of explosions made sure not many remained standing on the walls. The city gates were blasted apart and the soldiers of Thundercrash stormed the city, capturing all the viceroys and high-commissioners.

Claude's operation went on without a hitch, but Moriad had a little trouble attacking the docks. As it was a military dock, it was built like a mini stronghold and manned by a tribe of naval marines to prevent pirate attacks. The tribe that guarded the area didn't report to the high-commissioner of the colony, but the tribesman had been convinced by Tyrrsim's viceroy to pledge allegiance to the first prince.

So, the tribe of marines resisted Moriad's unit heavily. However, the cannons built on the stronghold were meant to be fired at sea rather than inland. Line 1302 launched a fierce attack and after three volleys of mortars, the defenders raised their white flag to surrender.

That was how Tyrrsim fell to the hands of Claude. Bolonik was helpless to stop him. Claude justified the attack by calling it punishing treasonous traitors. He then started a purge in the three colonies. Every official that signed their names to pledge allegiance to Hansbach and their households were arrested and what awaited them was ten years of labour.

Unlike the colonies governed by the war theatre, the local authorities in these three colonies were tightly intertwined. For instance, the viceroys and high-commissioners could only effectively govern the capitals and the nearby towns. The other towns were ruled by local strongmen and other factions. Claude had heard Eiblont and Birkin mention that before. Now that the three colonies would be absorbed into the war theatre, Claude decided to use this opportunity to wipe out all insurgent elements in these colonies for good. In future, nothing could be done without the explicit permission and order from the war theatre.

Skri and Birkin rushed to Tyrrsim around 20 days later. Bolonik had recovered more or less by then and was healthy enough to get out of bed and move about. Eiblont, however, didn't come, as he had to stay put and guard Port Vebator. They had little choice; the eight colonies' territories were far too wide. It took up to a month to travel on horseback from Aduras all the way to Vebator.

Bolonik, Claude, Skri and Birkin held a meeting on the future trade of the eight colonies. They decided to take Tyrrsim, Aduras and Mormaly into the war theatre's administration and decided to cancel downsizing their troops. Thundercrash and Monolith would retain a combined number of 130 thousand men. They also decided to form 18 garrison lines, each having 5600 men, to spread them out across the eight colonies. They would maintain order of the territories as well as serve as reserves for the corps.

Bolonik decided to expand Lanu and formally elevate it to city status. It would be where the war theatre's headquarters would be located. The initial plan to move headquarters to Wickhamsburg was scrapped as Lanu had become the centre of the war theatre ever since the inclusion of Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras.

Claude suggested for the colonies to have their own defence fleet formed from the thousand naval officers that didn't join the first prince. While most of the ships they sailed back were light-class long-distance warships and transport vessels, there were also six light-class high-speed patrol warships, two mid-class warships and one large-class warship. Coupled with the four light-class patrol warships obtained from Shiks that were docked at Port Vebator, they had enough to form a naval force that could ensure the safety of the colonies' waters. The nearby trade routes' safety could be ensured.

However, Bolonik was a little hesitant about making such a move. While forming a fleet could indeed make the colonies safer, it also meant the war theatre would have to bear another expensive burden. The cost of running a fleet was far higher than funding a normal ground force. A simple fleet with tens of high-speed light-class warships could cost as much as an irregular corps.

Claude merely laughed and brought up the spoils they got from sweeping the three colonies that amounted to around 1.3 million gold crowns. The viceroys and high-commissioners alone contributed more than 400 thousand crowns to that sum. Claude believed that funding a fleet would take up to 300 thousand crowns a year. Now that the three colonies were ruled by them, the tax they could collect would amount to far more after the sneaky middlemen and the questionable factors had been taken out of the equation. Funding a fleet of their own shouldn't be a problem.

As the head of logistics, Skri was rather satisfied with the amount of wealth they gained that helped make up their deficit. However, he didn't agree with Claude's assessment of the finances of the war theatre. He straightforwardly said that the three colonies' taxes wouldn't increase. Instead, it would decrease. The reason for that was the three colonies' taxes came mostly from maritime trade. It was the yearly trade with the kingdom that gave the colonies their prosperity and stable taxes.

One of the many reasons those running the three colonies tried to side with Hansbach was because trade between the kingdom and the colonies had ceased. Their goal was to restore trade with the kingdom and continue to profit off it. But now, Claude had declared those six traitors and arrested them, so there was no chance trade would resume anytime soon.

Without maritime trade, Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras' economies would be heavily impacted. They could only count on trade with other colonies. That was the reason the war theatre wouldn't be receiving nearly as much military funding for a time to come. As such, Skri wasn't too keen on the formation of a new fleet.

There was another issue, namely, the formation of the 18 new garrison lines and the disbandment of the former garrison units. The 18 lines would include the aged veterans of Monolith and Thundercrash. Each line would have 5600 men, so 18 of them required around 100 thousand. In other words, apart from the 30-thousand-odd baseline officers and elite veterans that were retiring, they would need to recruit another 100 or so thousand into the force.

That was Claude and Bolonik's intent all along. They wanted to lighten the toll on the families of the soldiers in Cromwell and Balingana, and by recruiting around 100 thousand new soldiers, their families could choose between 5 acres of farmland or 50 acres of pastures. Around 700 thousand family members of the soldiers would no longer have to rely on the war theatre to provide for their livelihoods that way and it lessened the strain on the war theatre with respect to public infrastructure funding.

The other reason was Claude found that the ages of the troops in the two corps were a little too high. That would have a negative impact on the corps and affect their combat prowess. Thundercrash, for example, had an average age of 31. While they were still tough regardless, Claude realised they were slowly going stale. Their application and development of new tactics were starting to stiffen up.

That was why he was more willing to form the corps from the ground up while the corps retained their combat power during the older soldiers' transition to the garrison units. That way, the new breed of troops would be just in time to take the older generation's place as the last of them transferred to the garrison lines. If they transferred all the old soldiers at once before recruiting and training new cadets, the corps wouldn't be able to maintain their combat prowess and that would pose a threat to the safety of the war theatre.

And that was a point Skri wanted to remind Claude about. Recruiting 100 thousand fresh cadets and training them as well as the formation of the 18 garrison lines would cost a lot. While their spoils in the three colonies amounted to around 1.3 million gold crowns, it could only sustain their military for two to three years.

Bolonik also felt rather troubled. Both Claude and Skri made a lot of sense. After trade with the kingdom was suspended, the colonies had to revert to producing their own goods and trading among themselves. As the area of the eight colonies was far too wide, land-based transport costs were high, so developing a local maritime trade route was a priority. But just because they would be sailing near the coast didn't mean they were safe from pirate attacks. Having some light-class high-speed cruisers patrol the nearby waters would bring them much-needed security.

Skri's worries were also reasonable. The war theatre already had huge financial obligations, especially after cancelling their downsizing of troops and having to recruit another 100 thousand and eventually forming the 18 garrison lines, as well as to perfect the defences of their three ports. The development of public infrastructure in the colonies also necessitated huge investment. The financial situation was tighter than ever.

After much consideration, Bolonik decided on forming a patrol fleet of six light-class high-speed cruisers. The other warships would be kept away for now and the fleet would be expanded once the finances allowed for it. That way, they could keep spending on their naval force around 150 thousand crowns yearly, which they were still able to afford.

After settling the matter of the patrol fleet, they began to discuss the administration of the three new colonies. Claude's purge had been a little too thorough and almost all the officials had been locked up. Currently, the three colonies were put under martial law. Otherwise, the local administration would spiral into chaos.

Skri suggested that suitable baseline officers that were about to retire be picked to be officials in the local administration. They would also start a recruitment drive and hold tests to pick new suitable officials. The proposal was unanimously supported by the others.

Bolonik decided that he would return to Lanu two days later with Birkin first to keep headquarters running and form six garrison lines to be stationed at the three colonies to ensure their grasp over them. Claude and Skri were to temporarily stay in Tyrrsim to keep the colonies under control. Claude would only be able to leave with Thundercrash once the six garrison lines arrived.

Two days later, Bolonik and Birkin left with their escorts. Skri and Claude launched into their busywork in Port Cobius. The management of the three colonies was all over the place. Other things aside, auditing the inventories of the three colonies kept them so busy that they had hardly enough time for proper meals.

There was no other choice, however. Port Cobius, being the port in Tyrrsim that directly linked the colonies with the kingdom's mainland, had a large warehouse area. The goods from the three colonies and Whitestag were all concentrated there. Now that trade with the kingdom had ceased, there were many resources that had to be dealt with swiftly, like agricultural products that couldn't be stored for long.

"We can keep mined resources here. There's no use for them even if we ship them back. The colonies don't have large refineries or factories, so we'd be unable to use them effectively," Skri said regrettably.

Large refineries and factories referred to large-scale metal-moulding plants. The kingdom had forbidden the colonies from setting up heavy industries like that and was willing to ship back all ores to the mainland to be refined before shipping the ingots back despite the much higher cost. Perhaps it was a method to limit the economic development of the colonies.

"Tobacco is an Aduran speciality. It's said that they're all over the wilderness and mountains. However, it's an expensive luxury in the kingdom," Skri said, feeling shame for them. "Without the mainland to do business with, we can't sell them off. These aren't worth much in the colonies. Maybe we can count on smuggling these someday. As for dried meats and fishes, we'll have to ship them back and use them as rations. They can only be kept for around three months. Same goes for the leather. If they're not treated soon, they'll rot."

Chapter 417 - Viscount Godic

Claude only made it back to his residence during eight at night. He was temporarily living in the mansion of the high-commissioner that was located in the inner city of Port Cobius. Staff-Sergeant Kester approached. He was one of the two guards that survived the attempt on Claude's life by the magi and would be retiring soon. He had just recovered from his wounds. Given his loyalty and honesty, as well as the fact that he already had a family, Claude kept him around as a personal attendant as a noble would a servant.

Just as he was about to bathe and relax, Kester came and said, "General, Viscount Godic has come to visit. He's been waiting for more than an hour."

The name did sound rather familiar to him, though it didn't ring any bells. Kester reminded, "General, Viscount Godic is the supervisor of the national bank's branch."

Claude instantly remembered who that was. The Aueran national bank had set up a bank in the colonies which processed the cashflow in the colonies, such as administration and military costs, local tax collection as well as savings. The national banks were the only financial institutions in the colonies and any large transaction would have to go through them.

However, the banks in Nubissia didn't have any right to mint coins. All necessary coins had to be imported from the kingdom. The stringent restrictions on currency in the colonies by the kingdom caused the colonies to be unable to develop on a large scale because even if a deal was reached, the national banks in the colonies wouldn't have the cash to facilitate such transactions, which impacted the economic development of the colonies rather negatively.

Each of the eight colonies had a branch of the national bank there. As Fearless used to stop at Port Patres during an intercontinental voyage, that used to be the only place where a branch was opened. When a new maritime route was established to Port Cobius, the branch in Port Patres also moved there, mainly because it was simply easier to ship and process the coins that way.

When Claude took over Tyrrsim, he had plans for the national bank branch there as well. It was too bad he couldn't find any weakness of the viscount. In the high-commissioners and viceroys' letter to pledge loyalty to the first prince, many other people in power of the colonies signed their names, but not Viscount Godic.

Claude had no choice but to give up on the plans he had for the bank. Had Godic signed the document, he could've arrested him as a traitor and confiscate the money the bank held by calling it funds ready to be handed to Hansbach. But Godic didn't afford him that opportunity. Even when Claude wanted to audit the accounts of the viceroys, high-commissioners and the others who signed the document, Godic had his subordinates comply. Otherwise, there was no way Claude would've been able to get the million gold crowns.

So, why was Godic visiting him this late at night? Claude gave it some thought and said, "Take Viscount Godic to my study. Have him wait a bit longer. I'll meet him after I've taken a bath."

He washed casually and put on his sleep robes before heading to the study. Upon entering, he saw Godic, a man in his forties, leaning against the couch in deep thought. He didn't even notice Claude's entry.

Claude cleared his throat.

The viscount snapped out of it and hurriedly bowed. "General Claude, apologies for disturbing you so late in the night."

Claude waved. "It's fine. You're always welcome, Viscount Godic. I'm really thankful you cooperated with the auditing of the traitors' accounts. It has been a great help to our theatre's military funding. By the way, what kind of fruit wine do you like? How does blueberry wine sound?"

Godic didn't hold back. He knew that the mansion was merely Claude's temporary residence and the wine collection there actually belonged to the former high-commissioner. He stood up and looked through the wine rack. "I think this Sky Blue will do. It's thick, fragrant, sweet and has a strong aftertaste. I had it once and never forget its flavour since."

Sky Blue? Claude seemed to have heard others talk about it before. It seemed to be a premium blueberry wine. It was light blue in colour and looked transparent as a crystal, just like the endless blue sky, and was named as such. He didn't think the arrested high-commissioner would have that fine a bottle in his collection. Claude really lucked out this time.

"Alright. Let us have a taste then." He removed the bottle from the rack and took two crystal glasses. He then removed the cork and filled the glasses. The clear-blue liquid looked like the calm waters of the ocean under the candlelight.

Claude offered a toast, before sipping some of the wine. It did taste rather good. There was a slight hint of blueberry sweetness. The two didn't speak as they slowly enjoyed the wine sip by sip.

"Not bad. No wonder it's considered among the finest blueberry wines made," Claude praised, before refilling their glasses. However, he stopped drinking and asked, "Let us get straight to the point, Viscount. What business do you have visiting so late in the night?"

"Well, General Claude, I wanted to ask whether this is something your theatre came up with." He put down his glass and reached out for his black leather bag on the coach. He took out a few gold notes representing different values.

"That's right. The theatre issued these. Thanks to the influx of immigrants, the theatre suffered from a severe lack of cash for development and construction. We had no choice but to issue these notes to pay the immigrants for their labour. These notes can be used to purchase daily necessities from different shops in the theatre. The shops can also trade these notes for gold and silver from the logistics department. I had asked the supervisor of the national bank in Anfiston about this before and he said he wasn't able to provide enough coins, so the theatre had no choice but to issue these notes."

As he went through the explanation, he wondered if issuing those notes had crossed the national bank somehow. Was Godic there so late in the night to level a charge against him?

"I can only say that this is a stroke of genius," Godic praised, much to Claude's surprise, "General, you might not be aware of this, but the sheer scale of the migration from the mainland came as quite a shock to everyone in the colonies. The high-commissioners and viceroys were betting on when the theatre would finally collapse, because they believed taking in so many immigrants was nothing but looking for trouble. Based on the military funding provided to the theatre, it didn't seem possible for you all to accommodate so many immigrants.

"I also made some estimations and found that it would take at least three million crowns to settle down more than two million immigrants. That amount is the sum of all the coins in circulation within the colonies, and I couldn't imagine how you would solve that problem. While the results ended up disappointing many, I, for one, was quite surprised.

"The most shocking part for me was how you managed to perfectly solve the lack of funding to settle the immigrants down by issuing these monetary notes. I did some research on them and found that they can be used to replace coins in many cases. However, you'll have to make proper calculations as to how much to issue and make sure you have sufficient gold and silver to back their value up. Perhaps the theatre can issue these monetary notes to solve the held-back economic development across all the colonies as a result of the lack of coins."

Claude was taken aback. Godic obviously seemed to be trying to show the theatre a good gesture. It seemed that the honorary viscount was someone in the know and was well aware that the theatre was mostly autonomous, now that contact with the kingdom's mainland had been cut off. Any and all development in the colonies would have to go through the theatre, even the national bank's.

"You mean to say the national bank is willing to help us issue these notes?" Claude asked with a slight smile.

Godic shook his head. "Apologies, but the branch of the bank I manage doesn't have the authority to do that. However, I believe the theatre can form its own bank to issue the notes. For instance, for each coin there is, two notes representing its value can be issued. So, you can issue two gold crown notes for each gold crown coin you have. For copper coins, we can replace them entirely with notes to make them even easier to carry."

"The theatre can start its own bank?!" Claude asked in shock. He hadn't even thought of it before. He didn't think that anybody could run a bank in Aueras apart from the national bank.

Godic nodded. "Of course. As long as you don't get into conflict with the national bank's interest, there's no issue. There are four privately owned banks in the capital and they deal with funding in other lands, business loans, mortgages and other forms of investment. The royal family even has stakes in them.

"The main purpose of the national bank's branches in the colonies is to facilitate intercontinental trade. With contact with the mainland now completely cut, the branches have lost their purpose. Before the two princes decide on the victor, the branches cannot count on the mainland for sending more coins here and they are no longer able to facilitate development here in the colonies.

"Additionally, the branches in the colonies are heavily restricted, so they aren't able to effectively spur economic development in the colonies forward. Under such circumstances, I believe that the theatre best set up its own bank to optimise the spending of the funds down to the very last penny. Only then will the economy here grow."

Claude took a small sip from the glass and put it back down. "I have a question, Viscount Godic. I want to know why you would bring up this suggestion, being a supervisor of the national bank's branch yourself. I hope you give me an honest answer."

The viscount smiled resignedly and finished all the wine in his glass in one go. "General Claude, to be frank, if you know the reason I chose to become a supervisor here in the colonies, you'll understand why I made that suggestion. I've been serving as the supervisor for this branch for the past 18 years. If things had gone according to plan, I would've retired from the very same post.

"When I was 18, I graduated with the best grades in the academic stream from the capital's 1st National Middle School and easily got a post in the national bank there. In the following eight years, I worked hard and didn't dare to slack off one bit. I was gradually promoted up the ladder and eventually became the youngest branch-office vice supervisor. I thought my life would be smooth sailing back then and that all my efforts would earn me what I deserve.

"That was when all of my troubles started. As the vice supervisor of a branch, I have the authority to limit any abnormal transactions. Sometimes I regret being so clear cut and rule abiding. The moment I found any oddity in the movement of public construction funds in the capital, I started an investigation. That was really dumb of the young me, who thought that it would be a great chance to stand out and make a name for myself. I didn't tell anyone else about it and hired investigators privately.

"In the end, I succeeded and revealed a huge corruption scandal in the capital. There were eight core members of the national bank that ended up involved in this case, all of higher rank than me. More than 30 local officials were arrested. The late king, Stellin X, punished them harshly and I was given the Title of honorary viscount for saving the kingdom near a million crowns in lost funding.

"I thought my career would soar immediately after that. I didn't think I would be transferred to Nubissia to be a branch supervisor here two months later. The supervisor of headquarters sincerely told me that it was a training opportunity for me, and they wanted to polish a fine talent like me up. So, I happily accepted that appointment.

"It was only after I arrived that I noticed the position of supervisor here comes with far less authority than a simple branch supervisor in the mainland. It was a setup, and I ended up serving as a branch supervisor here for the past 18 years."

Claude shook his head with understanding. Godic had gotten off rather lucky, now that he mentioned it. It was obvious that a corruption scandal of that scale wouldn't be resolved just from the arrest of eight high-ranking core members. Perhaps there were even more on the top that would've been implicated had the eight high-ranking members not been thrown out as scapegoats to take the fall.

Had Stellin X not given Godic his honorary Title, he would've been long dead. In the kingdom, it would still be possible for a commoner or dignitarian to be killed without much consequence.

But killing a noble was a wholly different matter. Like a shaken hive of hornets, all the nobles would immediately put pressure and demand for everyone remotely suspected to be involved to be thoroughly investigated. After all, the nobles were just as afraid of others as they were of themselves. They would never let someone who dared to kill one of their own off scot free.

Perhaps it was out of consideration of that fact that the top brass of the national bank's headquarters decided to send Godic to the colonies instead, effectively purging him from their ranks. As Godic himself said, he wouldn't be able to return to the capital unless he retired.

"That's why I no longer wish to spend my life meaninglessly in this position. I don't want to let my talents and knowledge go to waste either. I'm only 45 and there's another 15 years before I retire. I hope to find a place where I can utilise my talents to the fullest and perhaps even exact my revenge upon the national bank. Currently, the theatre provides a good opportunity. I want to use the time when the power struggle is still ongoing to establish a bank that can rival the national bank," Godic said.

Claude emptied the remaining wine in the bottle into their two glasses. "Viscount Godic, I believe we should have lunch together tomorrow. I'll introduce you to General Skri. He might be really keen on hearing your plans for a new bank..."

Chapter 418 - Averting Trouble

As the head of logistics of the theatre, Skri was quite keen on the formation of a bank in the theatre. The lack of funding for development was becoming a huge problem and the stress that resulted had caused a third of his hair to whiten. He wore a frown on his face all day long as he wracked his brains on how he could get more money or make more savings.

With a bank in the theatre's control, however, funding would no longer be the chief of his worries. So, he was quite welcome to meet with Viscount Godic. The two enthusiastically discussed the matter and left poor old Claude to himself on the side. Skri was all too happy to take up Godic's suggestion to completely replace copper coins with monetary notes.

Among the coins of Aueras, the smallest unit of currency was the iron penny. Next came the green copper fenny. Ten fennies made a red copper sunar, and ten sunars was equivalent to one small silver riyas. Ten riyas could be exchanged for a large silver thale and five thales were equivalent to a crown.

The currency system instituted during Stellin IX's reign had persisted for eight long decades. Due to the rapid economic development during Stellin X's reign, iron pennies were no longer used among the populace. The smallest unit of currency used in daily trade was the green copper fenny. For instance, a fist-sized baked apple sold for three fennies and fresh milk usually cost one sunar.

However, that didn't mean iron coins didn't exist at all. The royal mint produced a set number of them for the national bank yearly, despite the latter's complaints. While pennies were small, they were rather heavy and troublesome to carry around in pockets. But after the five-year war, the economy tanked and iron pennies began to circulate among the populace once more. Nowadays, a fenny was a little too much for daily purchases and sometimes having five pennies around was rather convenient.

Anfiston was the colony that produced the most mineable resources in Nubissia. The mining association that was largely in charge of development and management of the mines had smuggled a few moulds for gold, silver and copper coins. They had planned to mint their own coins in the colonies to deal with the financial issue. That would also bring the theatre a yearly profit of 500 thousand crowns and relieve their tight spending on their military and local development.

The problem with that was minting gold crowns and silver thales was the most profitable and worth it. The profit for minting silver riyas was rather small at only 20 percent. However, the coins in greatest demand in the colonies happened to be the sunars and fennies beneath the riyas. After a cursory calculation, they found that minting fennies would result in a loss as the workmanship and materials alone would cost more than the fennies produced. Not only that, the more fennies were minted and released into circulation, the more they stood to lose due to inflation.

The mining association didn't want to mint any fennies, yet most civilian trade was conducted with fennies, sunars and riyas. Thales and crowns were occasionally used only in the minority of trades. While it was rather convenient to use them for intercontinental trade, the crowns and thales the mining association hoarded was no longer of any use due to the civil war in the mainland that caused maritime trade to be cut off.

Currently, the association was using the profit from minting riyas to offset the losses they suffered for minting fennies. They even started to mock themselves as making coins for the national bank for cheap. One thing they were thankful for, however, was how they didn't manage to get any moulds for sunars. Otherwise, they'd merely be seeking out trouble for themselves. They would rather not work than run an unprofitable business.

Godic's suggestion, however, was perfect to solve the problem of a lack of copper coins in the colonies. Replacing copper coins with paper notes of the same value would not only relieve the mining association from the troublesome and unprofitable minting of fennies, they could even stop minting the mildly profitable riyas. Any coin below the denomination of thales could simply be replaced by paper notes.

Aueran citizens also had the habit of saving, so they could easily save up enough paper notes for one thale and exchange them at the bank. That would allow the notes to flow freely through the colonies. Apart from that, bringing paper notes around would be far more convenient than copper coins. Sometimes, they would need to take a large sack or two filled with copper coins just to exchange for a thale and that was a rather huge burden and nuisance for most.

The longer the two chatted, the more heated the discussion got. In the end, Skri decided to cancel the rest of his plans for the afternoon and took Godic to his office to properly draft up a plan for the bank, leaving Claude alone in the dining hall.

Claude himself couldn't really bother to get involved with that personally. He had his own matters to attend to during the afternoon. After a short break following his lunch, he got into his carriage and left with his guard escorts.

Port Cobius was the capital of the colony of Tyrrsim and split into the inner and outer cities. Most residents in the inner city was the rich and powerful, whereas those living in the outer cities were mostly less-well-off settlers and immigrants without much property. As for the northern and western sectors of the cities, those were where the nikancha folk lived and worked. Countless shanties could be seen across those areas.

According to Port Cobius' registry, there were up to 80 thousand Aueran citizens registered there. However, there were easily 300 thousand nikancha people living in the northern and western city sectors. They worked the most tiring and hard jobs in the city. Almost all the cleaning and sewage work in the inner city was handled by the nikancha and many rich households would have a nikancha maid or two doing their chores. Most of the labourers in the docks were nikancha youths.

Ever since trade with the mainland stopped, the nikancha youth working at the docks became the most unstable element. They lost their chance to work and earn their keep and had nothing to do but to loiter around and cause trouble. Had Port Cobius not been put under martial law, another nikancha revolt might have broken out already.

Skri had consulted Claude once about a pressing matter in the three new colonies: the treatment of the nikancha folk.

In Vebator, a colony formerly under Shiksan rule, the enslavement of the nikancha by the Shiksans caused them to organise an armed rebellion. They conquered the coastal areas and mountains north of Port Vebator and founded their own nation, so no nikancha settlements in Vebator remained. The few nikancha folk that went to Port Vebator to search the garbage or steal some things would quickly be chased out of the border by the patrol guard.

Cromwell, Balingana and Robisto had undergone scorched earth during the war with the Shiksans. Following the massacre of the nikancha folk during the Shiksan occupation of Balingana and Cromwell, most of their ilk escaped the two colonies.

As Robisto was defended by the defence line at Dorinibla River, and Anfiston having Claude Defence Line near the Mosraka Mountains, most of the nikancha that made it to the border were chased away, mainly to keep the layouts of the defence lines secret. So, no nikancha settlement remained in Cromwell, Balingana and Robisto.

Following the capture of Port Vebator, the colonial wars came to an end. The immigration of the two million family members of the troops of Monolith and Thundercrash into Cromwell and Balingana came right after, so those two colonies were fully Aueran territory. There was no longer any room for the nikancha to exist, because most immigrants to those colonies were poor and were willing to work hard labour. They didn't have a habit of hiring servants of other races.

Robisto, on the other hand, had become where the original settlers of Aueras from Cromwell and Balingana settled in. Coupled with the approximate 300 thousand migrant family members of soldiers from that colony, Robisto had also become a majority-Aueran colony. During the settling process, the theatre forbade the nikancha from entering. If they didn't have any Aueran sponsor, even the former servants of Auerans wouldn't be able to enter.

Those policies were set by the theatre with the aid from the mining association. The inherent unruliness of their people was taken as a fact by the Auerans and the mining association wouldn't be able to hire that many nikancha miners had they not resorted to carrot-and-stick methods.

Among those in other colonies, the nikancha in Anfiston were the most well behaved, and that was mostly thanks to the years of education and tolerance by the mining association. Anfiston was also where nikancha youths earned the best wages and got the best treatment. They were actually no different from normal Aueran miners, save for the lack of benefits afforded to the kingdom's citizens. The nikancha were satisfied to see that they lived the same lives and earned the same wages as their Aueran counterparts.

The nikancha folk in Robisto and Anfiston were much better behaved and didn't cause trouble often or revolt. As long as they were treated fairly, the nikancha weren't as bad as people held them to be.

However, the nikancha folk in Mormaly, Tyrrsim and Aduras were truly odd. All the stereotypical bad nikancha traits could be found in them. They were considered to be the ones who couldn't be reformed no matter what. All sorts of negative words were used to describe them and they would often stage revolts in the three colonies. Each time, they would calm down and behave after tens of them were killed by the suppression efforts of the administration, but they would repeat the process all over again after some time passed. Nobody knew what they were trying to achieve by their frequent, futile revolts.

Naturally, most of that was due to the attitudes the high-commissioners and viceroys of the three colonies had when it came to managing them. Apart from taxing the nikancha folk, the officials of the three colonies considered them the lowest class of people or targets to be bullied. From time to time, they would send their garrison units to raid the nikancha settlements.

Not only that, citizens of those three colonies commonly discriminated against them. They looked down on them and bullied them on a regular basis. In work contracts between Auerans and the nikancha, the party that broke the contracts would usually be the Auerans. That caused them to earn the ire of the nikancha of the three colonies and was also one of the reasons nikancha revolts were so frequent there.

The problem was the Aueran population in those three colonies didn't even number up to a million, whereas the nikancha population was above three million. Claude believed that if the Aueran citizens and garrisons hadn't been armed with advanced firearms they used to oppress the nikancha, the three colonies would've long ended up like the current Shiksan ones where the nikancha people rebelled and founded their own nation.

Nowadays, Mormaly, Tyrrsim and Aduras had come under the administration of the theatre. So, the three million nikancha folk there became a high-priority issue to solve. The cessation of trade with the mainland had huge effects on the nikancha demographic. Their youths were no longer able to work as labourers at the docks and there was a lack of sailors frequenting the nikancha brothels. The children also weren't able to beg for coin from the merchants or sailors. As a result, a tense atmosphere built up in the shanty towns of Port Cobius.

Skri had planned to hire them as labourers for building roads and other public infrastructure to give them jobs, but before half a month even passed, he found himself facing an awkward problem. Placing his hopes in them was a huge mistake.

Usually, hiring a thousand Aueran immigrants would be enough to build five kilometres of road within ten days. However, a thousand nikancha youths were only able to build one kilometre in the same time and the quality of the roads didn't fit the standard either. Most of them only loitered around the construction site just to be able to eat. Sometimes, they would even steal the rations. The consumption of rations was three to four times more than normal.

What Skri didn't even dare to imagine was how they went on strike before even working for a few days to demand for an advance of their salary. Skri had wanted to pay them off with monetary notes, but they didn't want the notes that could be exchanged for daily necessities and wanted proper cash for wine and women.

In the end, he gave up on helping them and asked Claude if he had any way to deal with them. Naturally, he wasn't asking Claude to go massacre them or anything. However, the least he had to do was to send the tumour away lest they continue to cause problems within the colonies.

The mere mention of sending them away reminded Claude of the nikancha nation north of Vebator. He supposed sending them there would take the trouble off their hands. How the nikancha behaved once they reached their own nation wasn't his problem, nor was it the theatre's. They would have to deal with their own issues.

The next problem he considered was whether those of the nikancha nation would actually accept their own brethren. Additionally, would the nikancha in the three colonies actually be willing to migrate to the nikancha nation? The settlements in the three colonies had their own elders and leaders, after all, and they might not want to leave to keep their power and authority. Claude might have to resort to force to 'help' them along their way.

Chapter 419 - Assembly Hall

There was a large shed made from stone and wood in the western sector of Port Cobius which the nikancha used as an assembly hall. Any conflict among the tribes would prompt the elders to convene at the hall for a discussion on the settlement of the matter. Back then, the viceroys and high-commissioners tolerated the hall because it made it convenient for tax collection and labour delegation.

"You mean to say that the nikancha in the colonies aren't registered at all and the head tax collection process was basically sending a notice to the elders and tribe leaders about the amount to be collected and letting them gather what money or objects of value that match that amount?"

Claude got off his carriage and looked at the crude shed with keen interest. Standing beside him was the ambassador the viceroys and high-commissioners had sent to convince Claude and the theatre to pledge allegiance to the first prince.

He was surprised to find that the old ambassador actually didn't sign the document the high-commissioners, viceroys and most other people of authority in the three colonies did, so he managed to avoid arrest.

He found that fact rather weird. Initially, he had thought the old man was a close confidant of Tyrrsim's high-commissioners. He later found that the old man was actually an unimportant servant who stuck around to run the high commissioner's errands to earn some money for his family.

The man had studied in the same middle school as the high commissioner, but he migrated to the colonies much earlier. He didn't do really well and earned a living with his smooth talking. Two years ago, he had gone to the docks to look for work and accidentally rammed into the high-commissioner's carriage and almost got punished for it. Fortunately, the high-commissioner recognised his former classmate and spared him a round of beatings.

There was nothing else to say about that. Even though they had graduated from the same middle school, one worked his way up to a high position and the other ended up piss poor. So, the high-commissioner, in a generous gesture, took him into his estate to run his errands for him. The ambassador didn't let go of that chance and tried to please. As he was quite the smooth talker and honeyed people up rather easily, the high-commissioner decided to let him be the negotiator with the other generals in the theatre.

Unfortunately for him, he ran into Claude and the slaps he suffered from Gum caused him to lose a tooth. Then, he saw the garrison forces of the three colonies crushed almost effortlessly. Later, he was carted off to Port Cobius and Claude sent him in to the viceroys and high-commissioners to carry his message.

After their arrest, the old man no longer had any work. So, he came to side with Claude and revealed some of the secrets of the colonies he was aware of. Claude happened to be lacking in someone who knew the lay of the land, and given his amazing conversational skills, he decided to keep the old man around to assist him. This time around, the old man had been sent to arrange a meeting with the elders and leaders of the nikancha and he completed the task after a month of busywork.

"Yes, Lord General, that is the case," the old man respectfully said, "The head tax the kingdom levies on its citizens is nothing much. Each citizen only has to pay a sunar each year. However, the nikancha are taxed around a riyas per person. As their populace isn't registered, the three colonies considered them to amount to roughly a million people and demanded a million riyas or goods worth up to that amount from them every year."

"What? A million riyas?" Claude was completely flabbergasted. The head tax for nikancha was ten times more than that of Auerans! A million riyas was equal to 100 thousand thales, or 20 thousand crowns! How could the nikancha possibly afford that huge a sum?

"No, wait. I've checked the records. The nikancha in the three colonies only make less than two thousand crowns per year. Where do they get so much to pay taxes?"

"Lord General, the nikancha are actually rather rich. You're just unaware about it. Otherwise, why would the local garrison forces be so willing to raid their settlements? Surely there's something worth taking for it to be worth their while. Most of the nikancha in Port Cobius are indeed the poorest of the poor who aren't even sure when their next meal will come. They scrape by day after day. The rich ones are the tribe leaders and elders. They collect a commission from the salaries of the youths in their tribes. The commission they keep is a larger cut than what the workers get to keep, so most of the taxes actually fall on the leaders and elders.

"On the surface, they only have to pay a riyas for each member in their tribes in taxes. However, they can easily earn three to four sunars from each member. It is actually a rather profitable business. The nikancha tribes in Port Cobius' outer city are even richer than those inside. They have their own territories and can fish, farm, forage herbs and mine. The high-commissioners and viceroys even suspected that they hold a few small gold and silver mines which they weren't able to locate.

"Last year and the year before, these nikancha tribes paid part of their taxes in mined ore worth around three thousand crowns. However, the tax collection officials only let them count for two thousand crowns. Those at the top had tried sending people to ask where they got the ores from, and the elders merely said that they traded for the ores with other supplies from the native eitat people in the Obumuk Mountains and used them to pay their taxes. After hearing that the tribes in the Obumuk Mountains are mostly eitat, those at the top lost interest in them.

"Additionally, the three colonies only hand around two thousand crowns of the tax they collected from the nikancha to the kingdom. Officially, the nikancha are actually taxed a sunar per person. The rest of the money was divided into two portions. The lion's share is split evenly among the high-commissioners and viceroys, so each of them earns around 2500 crowns annually. The smaller share is split among the officials working beneath them. Smaller officials can pocket a dozen plus crowns and the ones higher up in the chain can get up to tens or even a hundred crowns each."

Claude suddenly felt that it would be a shame to send the nikancha away. Think about all the lost tax revenue. But when he thought back at the kind of trouble they caused, it wouldn't be worth keeping three million nikancha in for a paltry 20 thousand crowns. It would be better to rid the colonies of them for good.

"Oh, you, Za... Za-something?" Claude pointed at the old man.

"Lord General, I'm Zakralin," he said, teary eyed at the fact that the general was finally going to refer to him by name. Even though he could only remember a part of it, it was still a huge improvement from being called 'hey', and 'whats-your-name'.

"Alright. Zakralin, have all the elders and leaders across the three colonies come to attend?"

"Lord General, it's impossible to gather them all in one place. We only managed to notify the elders or leaders of the 27 tribes that number above three thousand members. There are hundreds of tribes in the colonies, ranging from those with a hundred members to those with a thousand. This place can't accommodate all of them.

"And actually, we only need to inform these 27 tribes. They'll pass our word on to their smaller, vassal tribes, just like the case with taxes, we only have to inform them and they will assign the smaller tribes the amount they have to pay for taxes. The vassal tribes pay around tens to hundreds of crowns and they'll easily be able to gather enough."

"Since the 27 nikancha elders and leaders are here, let's go in then."

"After you, Lord General. Officer Myjack has surveyed the surroundings and set up a defence perimeter," Zakralin said with a gracious bow and wave.

There were four guards posted outside the doors of the hall. They saluted and opened the doors as Claude entered. Loud chattering from within spilt outside the hall.

The hall within didn't look as large as it did from the outside, perhaps because some smaller rooms had been sectioned off. Claude felt that it was about the size of three tavern halls; it could barely fit a hundred people there. The hall seemed a little dark, mainly due to the poor illumination. There were only a few braziers lit in the centre where many people gathered. Loud chatter and laughter could be heard. Some were even roasting meat and caused the air to smell a little weird.

"General Claude has arrived! Silence!" Zakralin announced after he took a few steps forward, making sure the elders could hear him.

The crowd quieted down as they all turned to Claude. Zakralin took a chair out from who-knows-where and wiped it with his sleeves before beckoning Claude to sit down.

Claude waved and looked at the nikancha elders. The illumination was rather poor, even worse so with the unstable flickering of the flames. He couldn't really make out the features of the red-brown-skinned folk, apart from whether they had beards.

"I am the vice field marshal of the colonial theatre, Viscount and Lieutenant-General Claude Han Ferd," he introduced himself. According to Zakralin, the nikancha respected high-ranking officials and were more willing to listen to someone of high authority. As expected, after Claude announced his station, the silent chatters and whispers stopped.

"Currently, Mormaly, Tyrrsim and Aduras have come under the theatre's jurisdiction. In other words, we will also be taking over jurisdiction of the nikancha folk. I have summoned the leaders and elders of the biggest tribes in the three colonies because I have something to announce--"

"Lord General, is it about taxes? Just tell us how much you want," some asked.

"Ugh..." Claude felt his rage surging. Do I look like I'm here to beg for money?!

"Shut up, you cur! Do you think the general is here to collect taxes from you? Just shut up and listen! Don't interrupt!" Zakralin yelled.

Claude gave him a look and he shut his mouth on cue.

"He is right. I'm not here about taxes. It isn't under my purview," Claude continued, "What I want to tell you is that north of the colony of Vebator in the coastal areas, your nikancha brethren have founded their own independent nation. They are currently waging war against the inland Shiksan colonies and have conquered large amounts of territory."

Wham! A few nikancha elders jumped. The news was far too shocking. The nikancha had always wanted their own nation, but nobody gave them the opportunity to realise their dreams in the colonies.

While the nikancha nation had been formed for quite some time, roughly two years ago, news of it hadn't reached the nikancha at all due to the sheer distance separating the colonies. Even the nikancha miners in Anfiston hadn't heard about the formation of such a nation.

The reason for that was the theatre didn't think much of the nikancha nation at all. Claude had initially encouraged them to stage a violent rebellion for independence to cause trouble for Shiks. Having the nikancha take over the inland Shiksan colonies was much easier than sending his forces in to clean them up. The inland colonies of Shiks had a combined area of around four Aueran colonies. Most of them were wilderness and mountainous areas, so the theatre couldn't be bothered to waste their manpower and time there.

After conquering Vebator and making it the eighth Aueran colony, the theatre decided to set the border of the nikancha nation at Vebator's borders. They also let the nikancha attack the inland Shiksan colonies as they see fit. That way, the theatre only had to focus on threats coming from the sea. It was a great help and convenience to them.

"Lord General, is the news true?" a bearded old man asked with agitation.

"This is the elder of the Roronia Settlement, Zali. Their tribe has around four thousand people and they live on the western bank of the town of Manledo," Zakralin added.

"Elder Zali, it is true," Claude sincerely said, "The reason you are not informed about this is not a single nikancha tribe was allowed to remain in Cromwell and Balingana due to the war. So, word of the founding of the nation stays north of Dorinibla River.

"However, the nikancha nation has now sent us a request for aid. They hope that we can help the nikancha tribes in our colonies migrate there. They said that their nation is the rightful homes of all the nikancha and any of their brethren are free to live free and blissful lives there.

"We have agreed to help out with the request. In another half a month, their ambassadors will come here in hopes of being able to convince you to migrate to their nation. If you have any questions, leave it for the ambassadors. Our theatre will help with the move by providing a free ferry service in the nearby waters. That will cut the journey short by half."

Sometimes, Claude was truly impressed with how Borkal's mind worked. He had sent a carrier eagle to Eiblont, who was stationed in Port Vebator, and asked whether there would be any negative effects of transporting three million nikancha to the areas north of Vebator. Eiblont then handed the matter to Borkal, who was dealing with arms sales with the nikancha nation.

Later, Claude received a letter from Borkal. He was shocked to see what was inside. Borkal had actually used the three million nikancha as a bargaining chip to obtain large amounts of ores, gold and silver from the nikancha nation.

Borkal explained the reason he chose to do so. Initially, the nikancha nation's population didn't even reach two million. After their attacks on the Shiksan colonies, they lost around ten thousand youths. Most of the settlers in the inland Shiksan colonies were mine owners and nobles and they had their slave forces to protect their mines.

The newly founded nation didn't have a problem with suppressing their enemies with numbers, but they still suffered rather huge casualties as they had just learned to use firearms. As a result, they only managed to conquer a third of the inland Shiksan colonies and were no longer able to go on. They were in dire need of more troop stock and population, as well as support with regards to ammunition, equipment and food.

So, Borkal's discussion with them was smooth sailing. The nikancha nation was overjoyed to hear that the theatre was willing to move the nikancha tribes in the colonies there. Borkal used that opportunity to demand a large amount of ores and rare metals as a price for letting the nikancha tribes go. He also allowed the nation to send ambassadors to come and convince the tribes to migrate north.

Chapter 420 - Borkal's Legendary Exploits

Claude didn't think Borkal would actually come all the way to Port Cobius with the nikancha ambassadors to see him. After settling them down and instructing Zakralin to cooperate with them for the migration plans, Claude decided to have a good chat with Borkal during the afternoon.

He finally came to understand why Eiblont left the matter of communicating with the nikancha nation to Borkal. To the nikancha nation, Borkal might as well be the representative of the theatre. Even Bolonik wouldn't be able to gain the kind of trust from them that Borkal could. Only with Borkal's signature would they trust any arrangement they had with the theatre.

"How did you do it?" he asked, both curious and satisfied with his friend's exploits. Borkal was no longer his chubby self from before. While he was still rather large in size, he looked more fit and the uniform seemed a little more fitting for a soldier of his station. He no longer looked like a lazy logistics officer with a potbelly.

"Sigh... Don't mention it. You can't imagine the kinds of troubles I had to go through, at times even having to risk my life!" he said without holding back. He took a few bottles from the wine rack and began pouring himself some drinks. Only after finishing a full glass did he start recounting his experiences throughout the past year to him.

Before the theatre captured Port Vebator, Borkal lived quite a good life in the city. Back then, the city was under complete lockdown by the Shiksan standing corps and beyond the city walls the cavalrymen of Thundercrash dominated. While they didn't really have any problems with food supply, other resources began to run out, such as luxury goods. There was simply no place to buy them even if one had the money.

So, Borkal smuggled luxury goods and other daily necessities in the city nonstop in the name of his wild-bull company and satisfied the demand of the cityfolk. At the same time, he used that chance to become the most beloved person in the whole city. The local officials and nobles in Port Vebator treated him as an honoured guest and he could practically go anywhere in the city he pleased.

That was, according to him, the most pleasant time ever in all his life. Port Vebator's officials greeted him with smiles and noblewomen leapt into his embrace thanks to the endless supply of luxuries he could bring out. Then came the capture of Port Vebator, during which he got marked for quite an impressive achievement. He returned to the theatre's headquarters after that for an intelligence post and had nothing much to do following the sudden end of the colonial wars.

Since the company was still there, he decided to move back to Port Vebator. When he noticed there wasn't any opportunity for business to be done, he decided to go hunting with a few friends of his from the force. He happened to run into some patrolling nikancha near the border. That was when inspiration sparked in his mind. He decided to look for business opportunities with the nikancha folk and travelled north into the nikancha nation under the guise of his wild-bull company's supervisor.

The rest of his experiences read like a legendary epic. During the six months he spent in the nikancha nation, he got to know all sorts of folk and earned their trust. He had many dangerous encounters and was even dragged into a battle with the Shiksans once, almost losing his life.

Borkal opined that the nikancha were brave fighters, but they hardly used their brains. Once their instinct to fight got flipped like a switch, they no longer cared about anything else and charged in wildly. The muskets in their hands were no worse being used as spears. During one attack on a mining compound, a thousand plus nikancha attacked a stone stronghold defended by only 130 plus Shiksans. They outnumbered their enemy by almost ten times and were armed with more than 700 muskets, having the absolute advantage.

However, they actually lost horribly and suffered more than 400 casualties. The reason for that was their hot headedness. Had they properly hid themselves or flattened themselves on the ground while attacking the enemy in the stronghold, they could easily wear the enemy down over time. However, only half an hour into the firefight, one idiot couldn't keep himself still any longer and charged in with his musket raised. After that, even more fools followed suit. Borkal had been completely dumbstruck and didn't understand what they were getting at.

The enemy was hidden in their stone stronghold and there wasn't any windows on the ground floor, only a large and thick metal door. The fools who charged in knocked against the iron door and stone walls with their muskets and spears and weren't able to get in at all. All they could do was to yell in an attempt to frighten their enemy out to surrender to them.

All it took was two volleys from the hundred-plus muskets of the Shiksans on the first floor to wipe out more than 160 nikancha in an instant. When the nikancha finally snapped out of it after suffering those kinds of casualties, they cried on the top of their lungs as they turned around to run.

As the survivors escaped, the Shiksans in the stronghold took the chance to counterattack. That was how they came to lose so badly. The Shiksans were acting no differently from slaughtering turkeys from beyond a fence. They reloaded, aimed, and shot relaxedly and free of pressure. One nikancha after another fell after being shot in their backs. They didn't even think about counterattacking with the muskets in their hands at all as they ran.

Borkal also tried to escape, but his luck wasn't that good. Just as he was about to make it out of it alive, he ran into the elders of the nikancha that coordinated that attack. They had been targeted by a tent of enemies because of their markedly different clothing. The enemy, once finding out that they were the leaders of the nikancha attackers, chased them down nonstop in an attempt to capture them alive.

At that time, Borkal only had another two people around him, namely, his orderman and guard. They didn't have any firearms on them either, being all armed with bladed weapons like two shortswords and one dagger. However, Borkal decided to save the two elders. They picked up three muskets and two bullet sacks from the corpses on the ground and hid within the bushes. After shooting dead the two Shiksans that tailed the elders, they escaped with the two elders to the peak of a nearby hill.

The five ended up stranded on the peak for up to half a month. Had it not been for the sole small and hardly traversable path up the hill and the super convenient terrain for defence, the Shiksans might've come up and ripped them to shreds. They had mounted three attacks, but Borkal and his guard were able to take them out. The two nikancha elders also managed to collect some stones and branches to use as weapons. The Shiksans stopped pressing the attack after losing four to five of their own.

Borkal believed himself to be rather lucky. Perhaps the Shiksans weren't willing to burn up their men on that hill alone due to their relatively small numbers, so they stopped attacking and chose encircling instead. They tried to starve Borkal and the rest to death, knowing that there was no food or water source on the hill.

Borkal didn't know how he managed to spend that half month. Had his orderman not brought his luggage up the hill with them, they might not have survived four days. Borkal and his two men had three days' worth of food in their packs and three water skins. That could last them five to six days if they rationed them up.

That was when the two nikancha elders showed their skills. They collected all sorts of edible vegetables and vines and used their sheep-leather clothing to collect water from dew that formed during the morning and night. It was barely enough for them to drink.

Just like that, all five of them spent some two weeks there. Borkal said that he was so hungry and thirsty he couldn't even think clearly back then. All he knew was that he lost lots of weight during that time. When the Shiksans thought that they were more or less done for and sent someone to check, they were once more ambushed and left after losing one man and having another injured.

Borkal said that he almost wanted to take a bite out of the corpse at the bottom of the hill, but he didn't have the energy to descend, so he remained prone, half-awake. Just like that, another seven days passed. When they were finally about to give out, the nikancha sent someone there and the Shiksans had no choice but to retreat to their mines. The five of them were finally rescued.

After that incident, Borkal saw the nikancha as his own people. He obtained trading rights in the nikancha nation and the nikancha freely sold their goods to Borkal's company. Borkal would, on the other hand, be the middleman and purchase goods from the theatre to be sold in the nikancha nation.

According to his observations, the nikancha nation was structured like an alliance of tribes. It wasn't a nation with a united federal government. They would establish their own tribal territory and have different local laws. The more people in a tribe, the larger their territory would be. Currently, the largest tribe had around 70 thousand people and some tens of vassal tribes. Such large tribes couldn't exist in the colonies of the other nations. For instance, even the largest tribes in the three new colonies of the theatre wouldn't have more than five thousand members.

Currently, there are six major tribes in the nikancha nation as well as their various vassal tribes. The vassal tribes of the major tribes also had their own vassal tribes and so on. The smallest tribe Borkal had ever visited had only some thirty members, all of them blood relatives who lived together.

When Claude asked about the progress of their attack on the Shiksan colonies, Borkal merely shook his head with a pained smile. He said that the war had indeed ended and the nikancha would only attack the Shiksan mines at the frontlines because they didn't feel safe having them around. It was a measure to prevent the enemy from approaching their border.

According to his estimations, the nikancha nation had a population of around two million. They occupied far too much territory and had more than enough to live a decent life. Additionally, they were getting a little sick from fighting after staging so many revolts and resistance operations against their Shiksan oppressors.

The leaders of the largest tribes were still quite clear headed and knew that they couldn't possibly coexist with the Shiksans. However, they used up their firearms far too quickly and didn't know how to maintain them, nor how to get new ones. Currently, they didn't have many muskets remaining and not much ammunition to be used with them. They were no longer willing to waste them on the battlefield.

The other reason was the huge casualties sustained. While the casualties currently only numbered ten thousand or so, those were primarily the ones trained by Thundercrash. Without nikancha soldiers that were given basic training, their combat strength greatly decreased. That was why they still lost their attack despite having a thousand men fighting a place defended only by 130 Shiksans and losing near 400 of their own in the process.

While the nikancha nation was a tribal alliance, the ones that actually held power were the council of elders of the largest tribes. Most policies were determined by the council. The leaders of the tribes were also the chiefs of war and held the authority to conduct military matters and lead the tribes' forces.

Interestingly, half the youth in the larger tribes' forces were from vassal tribes, and half the forces of the vassal tribes were from their own vassal tribes and so on. In times of war, the tribe leaders would give the order and their vassal tribes, as well as the smaller tribes further down the chain would assemble for war. It was similar to feudal nations on Freia.

After spending half a year in the nikancha nation, he returned and wrote a detailed report about them. The theatre was quite elated to receive a report that contained so much information about the nikancha nation and marked another great achievement under Borkal's name, allowing him to finally be promoted from lieutenant-colonel to colonel.

Borkal had decided to visit Claude because he wanted to show off his new rank and also talk about the migration of the nikancha in the three colonies. Claude had initially worried that the nikancha nation would refuse to let their own people migrate, but contrary to his expectations, they couldn't be happier to let them. According to tribal traditions, if the tribes in the three colonies migrated there, they would quickly be taken in as vassal tribes of the larger tribes, which would be a great boost to their might.

That was why the only difficulty in the migration would be the food and transport costs. During the negotiations, the council of elders of the nikancha nation offered to pay a million crowns in the form of ores and gold and silver reserves to the theatre to facilitate the migration.

However, they also expected to trade for some military equipment. They asked for 100 thousand firearms and ammunition to go with them, a large supply of food, as well as some officers to help train their troops for half a year. If the theatre agreed, they would be willing to pay another million crowns worth in gold and silver.

As that was no longer something Borkal could decide, he had no choice but to take the ambassadors of the nikancha nation to Lanu to meet Bolonik. Bolonik and the other generals discussed the matter by carrier eagle and eventually agreed to those demands. Claude had also received word on the matter and Skri was greatly supportive of the deal.

The theatre did have a surplus of around 300 thousand Shiksan arms from their captives anyway and tonnes of ammunition. As they weren't as advanced as the Aubass Mark 3s Thundercrash was armed with, the muskets were left to rust in the warehouses. Fortunately, they could now trade them with the nikancha nation for gold and silver and even arm them up for more conflict with the inland Shiksan colonies.

As for officers, Bolonik had given Eiblont the order to pick more than a hundred baseline officers to be sent there and give the nikancha soldiers preliminary training. As for food and supply support, Borkal said that supplying their troops was only an excuse for the elite in the nikancha nation to get more wheat flour for their enjoyment.

The nikancha's staple food were potatoes, cassava and oat. These 'rough' foods were easy to plant in the mountains. Few nikancha, however, were willing to plant wheat as they found them to be a little too troublesome to be worth the effort. They had to cultivate farmland properly and use proper fertilisers on top of giving utmost care to weeding. Given their temperament, none of them could be bothered to spare that kind of effort.

Borkal said they could use that to trade gold and silver with the nikancha in the future.

Claude, however, wondered whether they even had that much gold and silver, to which Borkal replied they had mountains' worth. He explained that in the third of the Shiksan territory they managed to capture alone, there were more than ten small to mid-sized gold and silver mines. After wiping out the Shiksan miners, they obtained large numbers of refined gold and silver ingots. Now, it was their turn to subjugate the Shiksan captives and eitat people to work away in their mines.

Chapter 421 - Military Industrial Equipment

Claude was finally made aware why the Shiksan nobles were so keen on forming their own mining companies to start excavating in their inland colonies. Even though the nikancha nation only occupied a third of inland Shiksan territory, they already located more than ten gold or silver mines. It went without question that there were even more in the other two-thirds they had yet to conquer.

The Shiksan nobles were only interested in gold and silver mines, but there could always be mines with metals that were even more precious. They only focused on gold and silver probably because they could easily be refined into ingots and sent back to their kingdom to be traded for large sums of money. The most crucial part of it was ease of transportation. They could easily transport their yields every few months or half a year to the ports with workhorses or donkeys and didn't have to spend much money building roads and the like.

Compared to the inland Shiksan colonies, the seven original Aueran colonies were far too poor. While there were many wide, expansive areas that made them suitable for settling, agriculture and a well-connected transportation network, there were only a couple mines across them. Anfiston had the most gold and silver mines, which was still just three. There were no gold mines in the other colonies. While the surveys reported that there were some ore deposits that were worth quite a sum, a large amount of capital had to be invested before they could be harvested. It wasn't nearly as convenient as mining gold or silver.

With Borkal's help, the theatre and the nikancha nation established firm borders according to the former territory claimed by the colony of Vebator. The theatre benefited quite a bit from that arrangement by including the hills that crossed the colony in the new territorial claim, making it rather easy for them to set up a defence line in the future.

This time around, apart from coming back with the nikancha ambassadors to negotiate the migration, Borkal had other matters he wanted to discuss with Claude. After looking around, he feigned mystery, took out a document he had folded into a small square and handed it to Claude.

"What is this? Do you have to be so secretive about it?" Claude opened the folded document. It looked like a normal list, but the mere sight of it caused him to pull Borkal towards him by the collar. "Where is this all from? Are these real?!"

He couldn't be blamed for being so shocked. The list had one large water-powered presser, one large refining furnace, a few water-powered cutters, drills, and so on. All of them were industrial equipment the kingdom forbade to be shipped to the colonies. With the machines in the list, he would be able to start his own fabrication factory. In other words, he could make his own muskets and cannons, all to a fixed standard!

"Calm down! Calm down!" Borkal pointed at his collar.

Claude loosened his hands with some embarrassment. He downed two mouthfuls of wine and calmed down. So far, there had been much progress at his sister's lab with regards to the new rifle. They were already in the testing phase where they evaluated the endurance, practicality and safety of the design. Usually, they would only be able to find out whether the design matched with their expected standard after firing three thousand shots.

However, Claude got some bad news from Liboyd. Even if the new rifle were invented, there would be no way to produce them on a large scale in the colonies. The colonies simply weren't equipped with the industrial machines necessary for large-scale fabrication. They could only produce a small number using alchemical arrays or skilled blacksmiths. But that way, they wouldn't be able to ensure a uniform standard across all the guns produced.

Now, the equipment list Borkal handed him solved that issue completely. What he found weird was how that kind of equipment fell into his hands. Those should've been the most protected things in the colony.

Borkal wanted some wine to drink as well after being shaken like a ragdoll. When he saw Claude take swigs from the bottle itself, he clicked his tongue and went to the wine rack to pick out another bottle of fruit wine for himself. Claude no longer seemed that impatient and merely watched on.

Borkal finished his drink and pointed at the list. "Would you believe it if I told you I got all that by trading only two cartons of fine wine and a box of fresh beef?"

Claude shook his head. What kind of fool would accept mere food for all that?

"I'm serious." He began his tale full of glee. The equipment he got was actually shipped to Vebator by Shiks. Majid III had wanted to establish a large arms factory in the colonies to produce cannons, firearms and ammunition to save the trouble from having to ship the goods to the colonies. That way, their forces would be able to easily replace broken equipment.

But when the equipment were all shipped over, the Shiksans ran into some trouble deciding on where that factory should be established. There were many considerations when it came to building arms factories, chief among them being a water source to power the machines. They needed a waterfall that could power the factory all year long, and there simply wasn't such a place in the colony of Vebator.

The official who was put in charge of the formation of the factory was in deep trouble. Fortunately, he had come with some engineers and surveyors. Given how much area the inland Shiksan colonies covered, they would definitely be able to find a good place sooner or later. So, he sent the engineers and surveyors to look for a suitable spot for the factory to be built.

It was too bad the official wasn't aware that the Shiksan nobles didn't care about Majid III's initiative at all. They had set their sights on the engineers and surveyors. Given how far away the kingdom mainland was, there was a severe lack of high-skilled talent in the colonies.

Back then, the colonial wars hadn't begun. It was the time when Majid III only just started to set his sights on the Aueran colonies. He wanted to construct a factory in the colonies so they would have the upper hand. He didn't expect the nobles to be blinded by the riches they could earn from the mines. They were in great need of professional surveyors to find new mining zones for them. The engineers could also help devise new mining methods to increase their profits or scale the operations.

As such, the official soon lost contact with his engineers and surveyors. He realised that the colonies were lawless places unlike the mainland and one's safety couldn't even be ensured once one left the city. He often saw the escorts for their gold and silver yield escape into the cities after suffering heavy casualties and begging for protection. He also found that those same escorts, when they encountered weaker groups of people outside the cities, would turn into bandits or slave traders.

The official had wanted to reach out to other officials in the colonies for help, but he got nothing but excuses in response. Nobody could be bothered to help him. He even tried writing back to the kingdom about it, but it went ignored after the colonial war broke out. The equipment was already there, and there was no way he would be getting rid of it, so he might as well wait till the war was over to establish the factory.

Eventually, the official's only job was to watch over the equipment. The manager of the docks' warehouses found the equipment to take up far too much space and forced the official to move them to an abandoned storehouse in the western sector of Port Vebator, which was near the shantytown of the nikancha. The official had no choice but to live there with his servants to prevent the nikancha from going in to steal his stuff.

Just like that, the official guarded the equipment for four long years until Port Vebator was surrounded by Thundercrash's light cavalry. With supply prices in the city rising, the official and his servant could only fill their stomachs with potatoes. When Bolonik led the royal guard folk to attack the city, the official knew that he would definitely be taken captive. So, he sought Borkal out and traded the equipment for two cartons of fine wine and a box of fresh beef to have a last few days of enjoyment with his servant.

"Wait," Claude said, "Wasn't the city searched in its entirety? If the royal guard found equipment like that, they would be marked for a major achievement! It's a feat even more impressive than capturing the city! How did you manage to hide it from them?"

"Didn't I say the equipment was stored in an abandoned warehouse where the nikancha lived? After the nikancha were captured by the Shiksans and enslaved, the shantytowns were completely abandoned. Nobody lives there apart from some wild dogs, rats and other little critters."

He continued on with his know-it-all tone, "And when I found the equipment, I immediately went to the docks and looked for the supervisor there and found the records of the equipment being brought ashore. So, I destroyed the records and now, nobody knows about all that equipment in the city. Naturally, I was only trying to hide it from the royal guard folk. They'd definitely send them back to the mainland as proof of their achievement.

"After the capture of the city, I got some merits for leading the way during the attack, so the officers of the royal guard trusted me somewhat. When they conducted the search, they also sent some units to the shantytown just in case any enemies were hiding there. I told them I was using the old warehouse for my company to store some supplies. I managed to camouflage the equipment by placing large wooden crates all around them, so they look like nothing more than furniture. They only gave a rough look before moving on to search the next spot."

"What about the Shiksan official and his servant?" Claude asked.

Borkal sipped on as he said, "I took them under my custody. Their identities weren't revealed and I told the royal guard they were Shiksan commoners I hired to watch the warehouse. After I returned to headquarters following Port Vebator's capture, I excused myself by saying I had company matters to attend to because I was worried about them and the equipment.

"But it turns out I was being a little too paranoid. Nobody showed any interest in the things inside the warehouse. There are no nikancha nearby at that time, so the warehouses were rather safe. The official also kept a dog which serves as a good alarm at night. Once I made sure nothing was amiss, I went to the nikancha nation in search of more business opportunities. I didn't think I would remain there for half a year."

Borkal's bottle was gone after he downed three full cups. When he finished the last of his wine, he wiped his mouth and said, "All the wine here is wonderful."

Claude leaned into his couch for more comfort. "You know that these aren't mine, right? It should be the collection of the former high-commissioner. Well, it's as good as mine now, anyways. Then again, I don't drink much. I much prefer red tea, since it helps me stay awake. Feel free to take some back. Consider it a gift."

"Sure. It's not yours anyway, so I'll help myself to them. I saw a few expensive bottles just now that I've only heard about, but not seen in the mainland." Borkal pointed at the list on the desk. "So, how are you going to deal with the equipment? I checked on them when I got back from my business trip. They're still in perfect condition and belong to my wild-bull company. Are you going to sell them off or leave them there?"

Claude rapped on his desk with his middle finger nonstop in thought. "The theatre and our intelligence department has shares in the wild-bull company. I'll give you a sum of money to buy the equipment over. We can't involve your company in this at all. Right now, I've hired people to design a new rifle. It fires brass cartridges just like the revolver you got. So far, development is going smooth and we'll have a proper prototype soon.

"I was wondering how we could mass produce them. These industrial machines are just what I need. I'm going to set up a large arms factory in the colonies. Naturally, I'll give you some shares for the factory as a reward. I'll also involve the other people in power here in the theatre to become shareholders in the factory as well."

Borkal nodded. He took out a thin copper medal with an engraving of a wild bull's head and placed it on the table. "Alright, I'll let you decide what to do with the machines. This medal symbolises the one who runs the company. Just take this to the warehouse in the western sector of Port Vebator. Everyone that works there has this medal, the official and his servant too."

"Also," Claude said, "I need to ask that official about the names of the surveyors and the engineers that came with him. If possible, find them in the nikancha nation. See if any of them ended up captured by the nikancha and forced to work in the mines. Ransom them back if you can. These people are valuable talent. We can't have them wasting away in the mines. I'll need them for the construction of the factory."

"No problem. But this will have to come after we help the ambassadors deal with the nikancha tribes here. It should take some time for them to be convinced to leave."

"No problem. I know how troublesome the migration efforts are. Help them go north first. We'll do this step by step. As for the medal, I'll hand it to someone else first and send them to check on the equipment as we pick out a suitable spot to build the factory in the colonies."

Chapter 422 - The Purge

Time passed quite quickly for Claude and half a year flew by just like that. It was now Year 592. Claude remained in Port Cobius the whole time as he watched the filled ships carry the nikancha up north along the shores.

"Zakralin, how many more nikancha tribes are unwilling to leave?" Claude asked as he watched the nikancha crowd gather in the outer city.

Zakralin was dressed like a standard gentleman. He no longer looked like a haggard old man. He took out a document from a folder and flipped through it. "General, there are around a million nikancha who aren't willing to leave. They live in tribes near the borders where occupying territory is more convenient. They have more than enough resources to afford them a rather decent standard of living.

"According to our investigations, the main reason they don't wish to leave is that they will be taken in as vassal tribes if they migrate to the nikancha nation. The elders from those tribes are the ones who oppose the migration the most. The normal nikancha folk, on the other hand, hope they can finally move to a nation they can call their own."

Claude nodded. It was already a pleasant surprise for more than two million of them to be willing to move. During the past five months, they had ferried away approximately a million nikancha to the north. They were the ones who lived near towns or small settlements working all sorts of jobs and were the most receptive to migrating.

As intercontinental trade with the mainland had ceased, the nikancha folk that lived near the towns had a hard time making a living. So, when the nikancha ambassadors said that they had now founded their own nation and told them he hoped they would move there and their tribes would be guaranteed their own territory, the minor tribes immediately packed up and headed north.

The second batch of nikancha who were willing to move were the ones occupying poor territory in the wilderness. They didn't really mind becoming vassal tribes to the major tribes so long as their own territory's sovereignty would be guaranteed. They didn't live good lives in the colonies anyway and would often be raided by the local garrisons. Some nikancha tribes even got into conflict with other tribes over fishing or hunting zone disputes.

The last group of nikancha unwilling to leave according to Zakralin were the ones with territories far away from the central administrative zones of the colonies. They live near the borders, not the ones between colonies, but the ones between the colonies and the inland. For instance, one such border was the Obumuk Mountains, which separated Tyrrsim from the inland. The nikancha loved to live at the foot of the mountains there.

Back then, the nikancha tribes the local garrisons hated to raid were those living in the fringes of the colonies. They would spend three to four days travelling there only to have the nikancha escape into the mountains long before they arrived. It mostly ended in wasted trips. Eventually, the tribes there grew stronger and stronger.

The tribes near the central areas usually had fewer than five thousand members. The environment and garrison forces' raids greatly limited their development. However, the largest of the fringe tribes could have more than ten thousand members and up to five vassal tribes. Their total number could go up to 30 or 40 thousand, and they could mobilise at least five thousand youth forces. So, the elders and chiefs of those tribes were quite satisfied with life there and weren't willing to move north to become vassal tribes of the major tribes and give up their autonomy.

Zakralin was rather capable. Claude had instructed him to tend to the nikancha ambassadors and they were rather happy with his services. During the past half a year, he had also travelled across the three colonies to survey the nikancha tribes, secretly noting down their locations, numbers, resources and everything else.

When the ambassadors weren't able to convince the tribes to move, he even hinted that they could borrow the theatre's local forces to force them to evict for a small fee. Had it not been for a few clear-headed ambassadors who stopped the others from going through with it, the angered and humiliated ambassadors who were refused might've gone through with Zakralin's suggestion.

Though, even if they hadn't come to a deal, Claude would use force to evict them nevertheless. He wasn't willing to let the nikancha tribes remain in those three colonies. They were potentially destabilising elements in the theatre and had to be uprooted completely. At the same time, he had to ensure the regulations concerning the nikancha could be implemented properly. Only then could the three colonies truly be the territory of the Aueran settlers.

However, Claude didn't have enough troops for now. In each colony, he only had a light-cavalry line stationed. Apart from the various local forces in the towns, most other troops were caught up monitoring the nikancha as they travelled to Port Cobius for the migration. While they had to ferry the nikancha northwards nonstop for the past three to four months, there was still a large crowd of them coming to Port Cobius nonstop, which brought quite a lot of pressure to Claude and Skri.

Claude was more concerned about safety and maintaining order. He wanted to ensure the million nikancha in the outer city of Port Cobius didn't cause any trouble as they waited for the ships to return. Skri, on the other hand, would handle the supplies the million nikancha consumed as per the deal with the nikancha ambassadors. They had paid the theatre lots of ores and precious metals for the fee of the migration, after all.

In the 2nd month of Year 592, Birkin finally came to Port Cobius with the six garrison lines and one of Monolith's combat lines. The reason it took so long was Bolonik and Birkin had to transfer most of the veteran soldiers in Monolith to the new garrison lines in Lanu before the 50 thousand newly trained recruits from Balingana and Cromwell joined Monolith. They had to ensure they were up to a certain fighting standard before they could start heading for Tyrrsim.

The six lines of garrison troops were all veterans from Monolith. Each of the new colonies would be stationed with two such lines, one in the capital and the rest split up and spread out over the rest of the colony. Usually, one tribe was enough to defend a town, so one line could be split into five to defend five important towns. Basically, the whole colony could be kept safe.

Port Cobius required two lines, one each to keep the inner and outer city safe. The newly formed Monolith combat line would be stationed near the docks to face off threats from the sea.

But even with so many new forces, Claude wasn't in a rush to split up the remaining garrison lines across the colonies. Instead, he was gearing up for a forced eviction of nikancha tribes located between the colonies and the inland in what he called a purge.

There wasn't anything too eye catching about the operation. He would only be sending three of Thundercrash's light-cavalry lines to set up a defence line around Obumuk Mountains before the nikancha were prepared to stop them from escaping into the mountains. After that, Claude and Birkin would lead three garrison lines and Monolith's combat line on an assault to clear out all nikancha tribes spanning the three colonies from north to east.

Spilling blood was inevitable during the purge. More than ten nikancha tribes decided to resist, but their young forces fell like targets before Aueran firearms. While they fought with a rabid frenzy, they weren't able to bring much harm to their attackers. The brave nikancha fighters were armed with nothing but their spears, blades, and hunting bows as they defended their homes, only to be shot dead one after another.

Some nikancha tribes decided to retreat into Obumuk Mountains, only to fall into the entrapment of Thundercrash. While few young men could escape into the mountains, their family members might not be able to fare as well. When they were discovered, they were captured and sent away. Those that tried to resist would be suppressed and crushed.

All the tribe elders and chiefs of those that bothered to resist were hanged from trees. After all the goods were cleared from their settlements, Claude ordered for them to be burned down. The nikancha cried as they left with what little they had. Some carried their children away as they marched towards Port Cobius.

"I think it's a little excessive to treat the nikancha like that. These are their ancestral lands, after all," Birkin said as he watched the forcefully evicted nikancha sympathetically. "Letting them stay behind if they aren't willing to leave won't be much trouble. The colonies are large enough to retain them. I think it's fine for them to stay so long as they're willing to follow our laws and obey our policies."

Claude sighed and shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't wish to give orders like these either, but we have no choice but to do this to save our descendants trouble. I'll bloody my hands if that's why it takes. Do you know why I call this forced eviction a purge? I want to leave a clean colony for the settlers from our kingdom.

"As times advance, society will grow more and more civilised. Currently, we are still in a time of strife and war and the ones with the biggest guns are the just ones. Might is right. These lands are merely our colonies and not our homeland, and we are indeed the ones who robbed the nikancha and the eitat of their rightful places.

"If another century passes, nikancha society would've developed to a similar level as our kingdom's settlers. By then, we would've put down our guns to start using the law to mediate our disputes with them. If there are still traces of the nikancha in our territories, they'll be the biggest problems our descendants will have to deal with.

"The nikancha descendants will cite the colonies being their ancestral lands as the reason to demand our descendants for the lands back. If they won't give the lands, they'll want reparations and more aid to freeload off what we have built. If one million nikancha are left here, their population will grow to a few million a century later. I don't want our descendants to have to feed a few million entitled freeloaders. We might as well purge them from our colonies."

Birkin seemed rather taken aback. He wanted to reach out to touch Claude's head to see if he was having a fever or something for him to say something so far fetched.

"I don't believe a word of that. Something like that won't happen a century later. The colonies will always be ruled by our theatre and the kingdom. I doubt the foolish nikancha will develop to be our equals. If they want to take their lands back, they'll have to ask our descendants' guns for permission.

"Then again, regardless of what happens, forcing them to leave the colonies would be good for us. At least, the townsfolk living near the fringes would lead much safer lives. Perhaps we should bring in another batch of settlers from the mainland. There's still a lot of land to accommodate Auerans."

Claude didn't bother to say any more. He knew that given Birkin's experiences, there was no way he would be able to imagine a future a couple centuries ahead. This world was a little similar to the history of old Earth. Just because a few people monopolised technology and guns and delayed the march of history, that didn't completely stop it. The wheel of time would turn nevertheless.

The western settlers of the Age of Sail on old Earth would never imagine their descendants to be such saints that they would seek to appease the very people they had raided and robbed from to atone for the sins of their ancestors. Some of the oppressed, on the other hand, even went so far to become the oppressors.

Claude was no racist, nor was he against universal human rights. He merely had enough insight to be willing to go through the trouble now rather than leave it for later generations, considering the matter from a solely pragmatic perspective. Not to mention, using force to get them to leave was still far better than massacring them to wipe out from the colonies. After the nikancha have all migrated, the three colonies would truly belong to the descendants of the Aueran settlers decades later.

"By the way, are we really going to go through with the nikancha management regulations in the three colonies?" Birkin asked as he turned his mount around.

The regulations stipulated that the nikancha would no longer be allowed to establish tribal settlements in the colonies. Additionally, Auerans hiring the nikancha had to be held accountable as their sponsors and take care of their head tax of one riyas per person. It was ten times higher than the head tax for an Aueran settler.

Additionally, the labour agreements struck between an Aueran and a nikancha would have to fall under the purview of the administration. A deposit would have to be paid to the managing department. Once the job was done, the department would send someone to check on the work, following which the employer would have to pay the agreed-upon payment in full without holding any back no matter the excuse.

They were all geared to make it troublesome for Auerans to hire the nikancha and cause them to give up on the notion to decrease the number of them that stayed in the colonies. After all, the settlers in these colonies were rather unique in that they enjoyed the lives of big bosses despite being only peasants. They would often hire nikancha to work for them and only give them a small part of the proceeds.

They would work them like beasts of burden. Farm owners, for instance, would often hire nikancha workers to work the fields while they merely supervised with their whips in hand. Once the job was done, they would often tear labour agreements with the excuse that the nikancha didn't do well enough or spoiled their farming tools and pay them only half of their salary or less. That was part of the reason the nikancha often staged revolts.

Claude nodded. Birkin smiled and said, "I'm sure the regulations can easily be passed in these three colonies, but you'll have to talk it over with the mining association in Anfiston. They'll be sure to oppose them."

Chapter 423 - New Rifle

Among the eight Aueran colonies on Nubissia, there was no need to worry about the nikancha in Vebator, Cromwell and Balingana. Apart from the nikancha servants the travelling merchants bring into the colonies with them, no other nikancha were living permanently in those colonies.

As for Tyrrsim, Aduras and Mormaly, Claude's purge was ongoing. Coupled with the new regulations targeting the nikancha, their numbers there would only decrease as time passes. The environment in those three colonies was no longer suitable for any development for them.

There were, however, quite a large number of nikancha in Robisto, but they didn't have fixed tribes. Instead, they were there because they had served Aueran households for many years. Robisto was among the first places where the new regulations would be implemented, so there would be no worry that they would eventually establish their foothold and status in the colony.

But as Birkin said, the tribes in Anfiston were the biggest headaches for Claude. The mining association that had cooperated much with him were the staunchest objectors to the new nikancha regulations as that would harm their bottom lines since most of their miners were nikancha folk.

In some sense, the nikancha miners in Anfiston were of the best stock among the rest in the colonies. Thanks to years of hard training by the mining association, they stuck to the rules, cared for their families and loved learning new things and good habits. Among ten nikancha youths, at least one or two of them would have elementary-school-level education and could read newspapers, public notices and manuals for machinery.

The mining association's training and cultivation benefited the nikancha much. In the mines and quarries, the nikancha youth were treated more or less the same as Aueran miners, save for the extra benefits the Auerans got. As a result, the nikancha tribes in Anfiston were the most disciplined and obedient. All they needed to live a good life was to work at the mines properly.

That was why when word of the founding of the nikancha nation spread to Anfiston, most nikancha folk weren't interested in moving in the slightest, save for a few that had no tethers to the local land. The majority of them enjoyed rich lives in the mines and quarries and there was no need for them to suffer and move north.

As one tribe elder had said, there was no need for them to move. Their tribes had been mining to make a living for so long and the territory the nikancha nation would assign to them was pointless, since most of them didn't know how to farm anyway. Even if there were other mineable resources there, who would they sell them to? It was far better to stay in the colony for a stable life. As long as they had enough money, they could even enjoy luxuries some Aueran settlers couldn't even afford.

That was the state of the nikancha population in Anfiston and it would be really difficult for the war theatre to implement the new nikancha regulations. However, Claude didn't want to deal with that mess. He left it to Bolonik and Skri to figure out. He did have a method he could use to solve the problem at its root, but the conditions still weren't right for it. Perhaps he could put it into action in two more years.

Claude stayed in Tyrrsim until the middle of the 5th month before leaving for Lanu in Anfiston with Thundercrash's three light-cavalry lines and Tribe 131. The matters of Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras were all handed over to Birkin, who would be holding the fort in Port Cobius and monitor the situation as the final 800 thousand nikancha migrated north.

The three colonies were now in complete control of the war theatre. It had been almost a year since Claude first sent troops there. The only thing he felt was a shame was the complete cessation of trade with the mainland. Not a single ship from the mainland reached the shores of Nubissia, and nobody knew how the power struggle between the two princes developed. There was no word on who held the upper hand or if either one managed to emerge the victor.

Bolonik, on the other hand, sought out a few captains of a few long-distance smuggling vessels and hoped that they could go to the mainland to seek out news updates. However, no word came from them after they set sail, and they didn't return after a year since their departure. Even odder was how even the smuggling ships from other nations didn't come to the colonies. It was as if the war theatre had been completely forgotten by the kingdom on the mainland and the continent of Freia by extension.

This time around, Claude had many things to deal with during his return to headquarters. He had to first transfer the veteran soldiers from Thundercrash to the local garrison forces and form six new garrison lines to be stationed across various colonies. After that, he would be recruiting new troops for Thundercrash. Fortunately, among the 12 garrison lines the war theatre just reorganised the last time, two had been sent to the colony of Vebator to take over the Thundercrash troops stationed there. Eiblont could finally return.

They held a short meeting in headquarters. Claude had heard from Skri that Bolonik managed to deal with the mining association and convinced them to support the implementation of the nikancha regulations. The way he did it was simple: make up for their losses with an even bigger benefit. The war theatre was going to start their own bank in the colonies and if the mining association wanted shares in it, they would have to support all policies of the war theatre.

The capital for the formation of the bank was set at five million crowns. The war theatre would take up half the shares, and Bolonik, Claude, Skri, Eiblont and Birkin each had their own two percent. Of the remaining forty percent, twenty was given to the mining association. Ten percent of shares were offered up for sale to other people in power in the colonies, such as Bernard and Saljorak, who now took up the posts of chief constable across all eight colonies. The last ten percent would be reserved to be given away as rewards.

The war theatre didn't actually have that much money. They didn't actually have to pay for the fifty percent of shares they owned. The twenty percent of the mining association was also given for free, but they would be handing over the coin-minting plates. The ones who would really be paying for the shares would be the local tycoons.

According to Viscount Godic, a bank didn't need that much capital to start. All the war theatre had to do was to gain the rights to mint coins and to print paper notes, which would be replacing all coins beneath the silver thale. The notes would be backed by the war theatre and soon, they would circulate through the eight colonies.

Apart from that, the war theatre would also be transferring the annual taxes to the bank to be processed instead of the national bank branches. Godic also resigned from his supervisor position in the branch and took up the post as the first chief supervisor of the overseas bank.

The national bank branches couldn't do anything about it, mainly because they lost support from the mainland due to the cessation of intercontinental trade. The other reason for that was the national bank wouldn't acknowledge the legitimacy of the paper notes the overseas bank issued. Since taxes would be collected in the form of paper notes anyway, only the overseas bank could process them. The war theatre had announced that paper notes could also be used to pay taxes and notes amounting to one thale could also be traded for a thale coin from the overseas bank.

The formation of the overseas bank meant the war theatre would have enough funds to invest further into development and also alleviate the problem of the lack of coinage. However, that wasn't what Claude was interested in. He also handed the matter of recruiting and training new troops to Eiblont. He even refused to meet with Skri to discuss the matter of raising Lanu to city status and headed straight for Weyblon Manor.

He had stayed in Tyrrsim for nearly a year without returning home and his second son, Beuergarcy, didn't even recognise him. The moment Claude hugged him, he burst out crying, resulting in an awkward scene. He rested at home that night and left for Anna Farmstead with his personal guard. He hadn't seen the new rifle before and didn't know how well they performed.

Anna Farmstead had become something of an elementary school. Claude had taken in roughly 150 orphans there and hired seven tutors to put them through elementary and secondary education in both physical and academic subjects.

Only Angelina was in the lab. She was tutoring five new students, the only ones to be picked out for having a talent for magic. Sonia's son, Marcus, was among them.

Claude ruffled Marcus' hair and asked, "Where's your mother?"

"She's out of town."

Angelina came over and said, "Master Boyd called her to Vebator to set up that arms factory there. I heard he found a black-firestone mine there and wants to set up his workshop there. That way, he would be able to convert the water-powered machines to setups using hot-air engines without a hitch since there's enough black firestone to burn. He called Sonia there to help him, so they left lil' Mark in my care."

Incidentally, coal was known as black firestone in this world.

Claude looked at the other four children. "Are they all your students?"

She nodded. "Yes. Apart from Mark, the other four are more or less on Blowk's level in terms of talent. So, after I evaluated them, I had them start meditating two years early. Once they mature, they'll be three-ring magi at least. They'll be useful enough."

"What about Mark?" Claude asked, concerned.

She shot him a thumbs-up. "He's about my level."

Mark was as talented as Angelina and could be considered a genius. However, she didn't explicitly state it so as not to put any pressure on the four children. Among the Ferds, Angelina had the highest talent, followed by Claude, then Bloweyk. While the four had a talent for magic, it wasn't that high. Then again, for four of them to be found among roughly 150 orphans was quite a lucky feat. If they could be cultivated, they might as well.

After Claude's near brush with death by the hands of the assassin magi, Angelina realised that the Ferds needed a secret magic force as a foundation of their power. For that, she was willing to personally instruct magically talented children. She didn't think Marcus' talent would be as high as her own, which was a welcome surprise.

"By the way, I'm here to check on your prototype rifle. I haven't even seen it for myself once since you settled on the design." He looked around the laboratory, but saw no trace of the new rifle.

"They're all next door. I'll take you there. The new rifle has a name now: Sonia 591, like you said. To be frank, I never would've been able to create a rifle to your specifications without Sonia's help. She really is a gifted gunsmith." She was quite thankful Sonia was there to head the development of the rifle. Angelina, was, after all, a herbalist, and her understanding of design principles couldn't possible rival Sonia's.

There were five new rifles hanging off the wall of the wooden shed next door. They looked almost identical to the designs Claude drew up. Claude picked one up and noted that it felt a little bit heavier than the Aubass Mark 3 matchlock.

Angelina picked one up herself and began her presentation gleefully. "Stock included, it's 1.45 metres in length. It's 1.8 metres with the bayonet. The whole gun weighs around 8.7 catties, roughly one catty heavier than the Aubass Mark 3. However, the guards that tested the guns out think it's an acceptable compromise, considering the improvements made to this rifle is enough for the Mark 3 to be tossed in the trash.

"The rifle is exactly to your specifications. After increasing the cartridge length by two centimetres, the firing range has increased to 480 metres. Its accuracy is 91 percent within 200 metres.

"The testers believed that their subpar skills influenced the accuracy rating, not the gun. And according to your requests, we added an opening to the wooden stock and designed a magazine that can store five cartridges. After each shot, the bolt can be pulled for the next cartridge to be automatically loaded for one more shot."

"Let me try it out." Claude analysed the rifle in his hand lovingly. Fourteen whole years had passed since his middle-school days when he tried to make his own flintlock. Now, he finally had a brand new rifle and could say goodbye to matchlocks for good. Ever since he got his revolver, he had a feeling a brand new rifle was inching ever so closer. Now, he finally had a chance to make Thundercrash the most elite armed force in the whole world.

He used up more than 30 cartridges at the shooting yard behind the shed. Every one of them struck the targets, much to his satisfaction. Gum and the other guards that tagged along played with the rifle to their heart's content and were full of praises for the new Sonia 591. They couldn't wait to get their own.

"Did you notice any shortcomings of the rifle during the design process?"

"We did. After Sonia fixed the design, she made a rough calculation of the costs of mass production. She said producing ten thousand of these would make the cost of each be around eight crowns. The selling price for these should be around ten crowns. If one million are produced in a batch, however, we might be able to lower the cost to five crowns each. Basically, the war theatre might not be able to bear the cost of making these rifles standard issue."

Claude grimaced. Other things aside, the Aubass Mark three only cost two crowns and three thales to be shipped from the mainland. The new rifles could bear the cost of four matchlocks. However, their relative formidability justified the high costs.

"There's another piece of bad news. Don't forget the cost of the cartridges. If we make a million of them, each one will cost around three sunars. Multiply that by ten and we will be able to decrease the cost to two sunars. That's the lowest you'll get. Increasing production past that will only yield diminishing returns."

Chapter 424 - News from Smugglers

War was a battle of logistics, as Miselk had often repeated in his advanced strategy class. Had the Aueran treasury not run dry in the five-year war, they wouldn't have had to sue for peace and could have unified the entirety of Eastern Freia. But because they couldn't keep funding the war effort, they had to seek a premature resolution.

According to Angelina, each new rifle's construction cost seven to eight crowns. Claude wasn't the least bit surprised. The new rifle's mass production required a new arms factory and eleven new production lines to ensure everything was standardised. Sonia said half of the cost of the 100 thousand initial-order rifles was just for the production lines.

Had Claude not gotten the arms-making equipment Shiks had left in Port Vebator, the price might've been double. The new rifle would have shared the revolver's fate of being just a collector's item for the rich and powerful instead of a standard-issue weapon.

Claude wanted to arm Thundercrash with the new rifles to create an elite force that was beyond its time. However, Thundercrash had 65 thousand men and they would need at least 70 thousand new rifles to be fully armed and have some to spare. Assuming each new rifle cost a set eight crowns, it would cost up to 600 thousand crowns for Thundercrash to switch to the new rifles. That was akin to two years of the combined operating costs of Thundercrash and Monolith.

And that was just the cost for the rifles. A hundred of those cartridges would cost 300 sunars, which was equal to three thales. However, a hundred was only the standard number each soldier would be supplied with before being deployed. That didn't include any they would use during training.

According to the Aueran training regime, each new recruit would be trained for a whole month and they had to fire 30 shots each day. Errors and mistakes necessitated even more training than that. On average, one soldier had to consume a thousand live rounds each month to get a grasp on the Aubass Mark 3's abilities.

If the new rifles were adopted, all soldiers would also have to go through similar training to familiarise themselves with them. The training alone would be a huge expenditure. Each soldier would consume a thousand live rounds over the course of a month and cost them 30 thales, or six crowns in ammunition. Imagine how much 65 thousand men in a corps would cost.

And that was only the beginning. After initial training, the soldiers would still have to be trained firing live rounds on a regular basis three times a month, with them shooting at least 30 times per session. In other words, each soldier would be using approximately a hundred rounds per month, and 1200 per year, which was another seven crowns down the drain.

All in all, the ammunition costs for switching to the new rifles would be at a whopping 1.4 million crowns, which was equal to five to six years of the operating costs of both corps. That was why Angelina warned Claude about the difficulty of arming his troops with such expensive arms.

However, Claude didn't really mind. He believed that once Bolonik and the rest saw the new rifles, they would understand how much more strength the weapons would bring to the theatre. The cost of the rifles would be worth the potential number of soldiers' lives saved. Claude would be fully certain he could defeat the enemy if his corps was armed with the new rifles.

In the following two months, Claude went to Wickhamsburg in Cromwell to observe the reorganisation and training of new troops. Thundercrash was an assault-based cavalry corps. Each new soldier had to be given normal training, apart from live-fire exercises with the Aubass Mark 3. Additionally, they would have to be trained in equestrian skills and various mounted fighting tactics as well as Claude's live-combat training.

The busy days passed quickly and soon, the eighth month had come. Claude had returned from monitoring the troops' training and received an eagle message from headquarters a messenger brought him. A battered smuggling ship docked in Port Vebator after a heated naval battle and the captain was a Nasrian.

The ship was confiscated and her surviving captain and crew had been sent to the headquarters in Anfiston. Bolonik summoned Claude back and wanted him to listen to news of the kingdom and Eastern Freia together.

It wasn't something that could be delayed. Claude immediately set off to Anfiston and arrived after eight long days of travel. By then, the ship's captain and crew had repeated all they knew for the second time.

Skri handed a set of documents to Claude before he even settled in and wiped himself down. "Their testimonies are recorded here. We've sorted them to have news of the kingdom's civil war on top. We still can't tell if what the smugglers told us are correct, since they are Nasrians, our sworn enemy."

Claude nodded and opened the folder. It seemed that the power struggle was still ongoing and even now, Prince Hansbach and Stellin XI, also known as Prince Wedrick, were still in a heated fight. How could it be possible?

According to the Nasrian captain, Wedrick led Reddragon and the royal guard towards Ibnist Plains. Prince Hansbach had long led his standing corps and two new irregular corps to set up a defence line along Lake Bryanopest.

Even before the battle started, people believed that Wedrick would suffer a heavy defeat. Hansbach had captured the capital and purged those that didn't support him. He had control over the manpower and resources of the kingdom, which was a huge advantage.

Wedrick, on the other hand, didn't perform well at all since his coronation. His own faction had many internal conflicts and fought each other for their own interests and benefits. They reacted haphazardly and half a step slower to Hansbach's rebel army. After locking Hansbach's forces at Audin Mountain Range, he had gotten careless and thought that Hansbach would no longer be able to threaten the capital at all. He had believed all he had to do was to fight a battle of attrition to wear down Hansbach's troops.

Nobody would've expected Hansbach to strike up a deal with Shiks. He took the initiative to exterminate Fearless, the kingdom's fleet, and used the Shiksan navy, Seaking, and the Alliance's navy to escort Bluefeather through the sea to attack the kingdom's heartland and take the capital. Wedrick fled during the night and left the capital in Hansbach's hands.

Though Wedrick now had control over Reddragon, Griffon and the royal guard with the help of his father-in-law, Lord Militant Siegfeld, following his arrival in Botarnia, managed to reform his court and started counterattacking with Reddragon and the royal guard. Most people hedged their bets with Hansbach. Wedrick had fled the capital without so much as firing a single shot, after all, which tanked his standing among the observers.

Given that Wedrick had always been inept when it came to military matters, there was no way he would be the experienced Hansbach's match. Some publications in favour of the first prince even described Wedrick's full-scale deployment against the capital was an all-in gamble. They believed it would only earn an even more impressive victory for Hansbach that ended with the complete obliteration of Wedrick's forces, winning him the Aueran crown for good.

In the middle of the 5th month, both sides had a mutual encounter. On the 24th of the 5th month, Reddragon and the royal guard launched a full-scale attack. Much to the surprise of everyone, the standing corps and two irregular corps stationed at Hansbach's defence line were crushed in a single exchange. It took less than five days for Reddragon and the royal guard to once more reach the capital.

The results of that battle stunned everyone who was paying attention. It was only after Wedrick regained control of the capital following the battle on Ibnist Plains that word spread that Reddragon and the royal guard were only able to win because of their use of a new weapon -- the explosive mortars.

Once the mortars were tossed into the defensive fortifications, they exploded. Hansbach's troops were completely wiped out in one go, and the fall of the strongholds soon followed. It was said that the other nations on Freia had begun researching their own mortars in an attempt to copy them. Nobody was willing to fall prey to a similar attack.

Claude felt a little giddy reading that part. He didn't think the assassinated Aljess would be such a huge help to Wedrick for buying the rights to produce the mortars for the old nobility. It was no wonder Wedrick actually dared to deploy so many troops against Hansbach. His courage had been fueled by the mortars.

Skri stood beside Claude; he knew that Claude was the one who permitted the sale of the production rights to Aljess. Seeing Claude zone out, he knew what he was thinking immediately.

He wistfully said, "I didn't think your mortars would contribute that much. If Prince Hansbach actually won, we would be declared traitors. However, the other Freian nations have begun researching their own mortars. The Nasrian smugglers carry some of their own as well. They only managed to survive the pirate attack thanks to them before making it here."

"Are their mortars the same as ours?"

Skri shook his head. "They're completely different. Theirs look like a little jar with a long fuse line sticking out. After lighting the fuse, they launch them with catapults and can reach up to a hundred metres away. The catapults used on the ships are smaller since larger ones couldn't be easily moved. They also call these mortars crackers. Some nations simply call them exploders. While the names are different, they function the same. They explode once the fuse burns up."

"Oh? They only managed to make copies with rope fuses? Not the pull fuses with an internal ignition mechanism like ours?"

"That's right. The captain says the Aueran mortars all use rope fuses. Basically, the length of the fuse gives it a fixed range. They also can't be used in rain as the fuse is exposed and would be put out from time to time"

Skri didn't understand why the military industries modified the mortars to have rope fuses despite the glaring weakness of being limited by weather conditions. He pointed at the documents in Claude's hand. "Just read on and you'll know. Prince Hansbach has also learned how to make mortars and is evening the odds of the battle following his huge loss."

As the ship's captain was Nasrian, he was quite happy about the civil war. He often followed the detailed battle descriptions of the newspapers. While most of them were merely schadenfreude pieces, they were the precise reason the captain knew so much about the war.

After Reddragon and the royal guard approached the capital, Hansbach had a simple coronation in the palace. Since Wedrick had laid claim to Stellin XI, the first prince ascended to the throne in the name of Hansbach I. After that, he declared that he would be surveying the southwestern prefectures of the kingdom and hurriedly had Bluefeather retreat from the capital.

Half a day after he left, the royal guard entered the capital and recaptured it. Three days later, Wedrick gleefully held a parade to celebrate the restoration of the capital and his throne and conducted a series of arrests there. All nobles and officials that sided with Hansbach during the time of the capital's fall were put into prison and would only be released after a huge ransom was paid.

After delaying for more than a month, Wedrick sent Reddragon after Hansbach's retreating troops and decreed for irregular corps to be formed in various territories to exterminate Hansbach's rebel forces. However, his reaction came a little late. He had given a month of time to Hansbach unnecessarily to secure his footing in the tens of provinces in the southwestern part of the kingdom.

The Nasrian captain said that after Hansbach retreated from the capital, he split his units up across the ten plus prefectures in the southwest and exterminated all local forces loyal to Wedrick, winning much time and local support.

During Reddragon's pursuit a month later, Hansbach intentionally had his men mount a fighting retreat to lure Reddragon in deeper before entrapping them in the prefecture of Tamurus. Reddragon managed to use their mortars for a desperate escape, but they were heavily crippled after the battle that came to be known as the Triumph of Tamurus. Hansbach had once more turned the tables with his victory.

Wedrick, worried that the capital would be miraculously taken from him again, would not let the royal guard mount an attack no matter what. He ordered for the formation of ten plus irregular corps and for Reddragon to be reformed and reorganised. It wouldn't be too late to attack after that. Hansbach, on the other hand, firmed his hold on the finances and military of the prefectures he captured. He also obtained mortars from the spoils from decimating Reddragon and had them forged and armed his forces with them.

In the span of time between the 10th month of last year to the 5th month of the current year, the two princes consolidated their forces in their respective territories. The clouds of the upcoming storm were gathering once more. However, nobody could be sure who would win in the following clash.

Chapter 425 - Western Coast

"Perhaps the war has already ended, considering how long the news took to get to us," Skri said with a look of resignation.

"There's no way they'll have settled this so quickly," Claude said, "Prince Hansbach is very cunning and experienced, whereas Prince Wedrick is alert to the point of paranoia and would run the moment something is off by the slightest. As long as none of them fall prey to anything else, the war in the kingdom will still be ongoing."

The captain said he had departed from Northbay around late 5th month to transport some cargo to the Duchy of Reliaro before receiving another assignment there to transport some arms to Nubissia's western coast. They remained there for about a month and started their return to Nasri with another ship. However, their luck ran out and they encountered a pirate attack near the Nubari Islands. Using the mortars they were transporting, they managed to drive off two pirate ships that had attempted to dock them and broke out of heavy encirclement to reach Port Vebator.

In other words, the captain only knew up to what happened at the end of the 5th month, and that was because he paid attention to the news. The rest of his crew wasn't remotely interested in the matters of nations, so their testimonies only contained regurgitated rumours and hearsay among the common folk or from taverns.

The office door opened and Bolonik entered. He was quite happy to see Claude there. "I heard those from headquarters say you're here, so I came to see you. You've read the testimonies of the smuggling ship's crew, right? I finally know why the smuggling ships we sent didn't return."

Bolonik walked to the wall and pointed at a large map of Nubissia. "Civil war is still rife in our kingdom and Whitestag is under Prince Hansbach's control. It is very likely that the two smuggling ships we sent out have been held up there. After all, we are nothing but traitors to the first prince, so after he cut off trade between the two continents. He strictly regulates all ships coming from Nubissia, be they smuggling ships or merchant ships."

Claude agreed. Hansbach had used a sea route to circumvent the defences at Audin Mountain Range to launch a surprise attack on the royal capital. With such a precedent in mind, he would naturally be really wary of the route he himself had used and be far more cautious regarding threats from the ocean. Thus why he would capture all the ships that came from Nubissia, where the traitors lived.

Whitestag was a strategic location in the southwestern area and the ocean routes were in Storm's control. If Prince Hansbach's campaign didn't fare well, he could still retreat to the three southwestern prefectures. As long as he kept Whitestag defended, he would have the options of attacking, defending or retreating. Stellin IX back then had used the power of the three southwestern prefectures in his rise to power and the throne, after all. Perhaps Hansbach was going to mimic his grandfather's exploits. Additionally, if he couldn't hold on any longer, he could still send his troops to Whitestag for Storm to ferry away to new territories he could conquer by sea.

Since the war theatre in Nubissia had turned against Hansbach, he would have to be wary against them as well lest they send two corps to attack Whitestag out of nowhere. Once Whitestag was conquered, the first prince would have nowhere to escape to. Unlike Wedrick, who didn't care much about the colonies, Hansbach was far more aware of the strengths of Thundercrash and Monolith.

"It's obvious that we are afraid the first prince's Storm will come to attack our colonies, and the first prince fears an attack by us as well," Bolonik said with a resigned laugh. Generals who caught Miselk's eye were definitely no simple-minded folk. It didn't take long for them to divine the truth based only on the testimony of the captain and their two missing smuggling ships.

Bolonik crossed out the blue line linking Whitestag to Tyrrsim with a pencil. "As long as Prince Hansbach controls Whitestag, this sea route is out of commission. Without Fearless, only Storm protects our kingdom's waters. No matter how many private or smuggling ships we send, they'll all fall into their hands. It'll be the same if we send them to other ports than Whitestag. The coastal towns are all in Storm's control."

"What about the eastern route?" Skri asked. He wondered whether they could use the route from the east of the colonies to reach the Freian continent like Fearless had always done back then to get news updates and reestablish contact with the kingdom.

Bolonik still shook his head. "It's pointless. I've sent three long-distance smuggling ships on the eastern route and they didn't return either. The main reason for that is here -- the Nubari Islands. That's a haven for pirates. There are near a thousand islands varying in size and uncountable pirates. It's an incredibly chaotic region. If we start sailing from the western coast, on the other hand, we'll have to pass through the islands too. If we're unlucky, we'll end up the targets of innumerable pirates.

"Back when Fearless escorted ships to the colonies, the Nubari Islands was the most dangerous parts they had to pass through. They would come under pirate attack almost every single time and their largest loss numbered up to 52 ships, 14 of which were warships and 38 trading vessels. However, the pirates also suffered quite a bit during that battle. It's said that more than a hundred of their ships were sunk, causing them to only be able to mount minor skirmishes in the coming four to five years without being able to mobilise tens of ships to attack trading fleets like before."

Claude furrowed his brows. "Are the pirates there working as a cohesive whole or doing their own thing?"

"I'm not sure. I had a college mate who was transferred to the ministry of the navy and he was the one who told me about the pirates there. Actually, the bloody battle of Nubari Islands was one of the main factors that sparked the five-year war. The kingdom sent people to infiltrate the islands to get more information about the pirates.

"It's said that the trading vessels Fearless had been escorting were actually pirates hired by the Alliance of Five Nations. The attack was actually coordinated among all the pirates operating in that area. However, they didn't think their losses would be that huge. A few famous pirate crews suffered heavy losses and casualties, and once they got back, the pirates fed the ambassadors from the Alliance to the sharks.

"Once the informants returned with word of that, the kingdom sent ambassadors to demand the Alliance for compensation, but they all refused the demand and insisted they didn't know about the attack at all. It was then when relations between Aueras and the Alliance grew tense. After that, the kingdom established a new trade route from Whitestag to Tyrrsim and never used the eastern route again, making it so that the Alliance was no longer able to use the eastern route to threaten the kingdom. That forced their navy to invade our kingdom's waters, which eventually escalated the whole ordeal into a war with the Alliance."

Claude stood up and went to the map to give it a close look. The eight colonies of the kingdom were located near the southwestern part of Nubissia. The southernmost colony, Aduras, was known as the Primal Forests, and further south to that was the large swamp area known as Fog Swamps. There would be no threat to the colonies coming from the south of the continent.

However, north of the colony of Vebator was a coastal mountainous area where the independent nikancha nation stood. That area was even larger than the colony of Balingana and the part that stretched deep into the ocean was the famous Cape Moroks. Further north of the coastal mountains was the western coast of Nubissia. There was a large flatland area far beyond the war theatre, which was where the colonies of the seven coastal nations of Southern Freia were located.

Back when Stellin X decided on a large-scale expansion policy in Nubissia, the western coast was already off limits. However, the kingdom had built Port Patres at the entry of Dorinibla River and discovered large amounts of mineable resources in Anfiston's Mosraka Mountains, so they decided to continue expanding the colonies there. In nearly two decades, seven Aueran colonies were formed. But by then, Port Vebator had fallen under Nasrian control. The kingdom was one step too late to stop the colonial war from even happening in the first place.

Claude tapped on the western coast. "How do the colonies here contact Freia?"

Bolonik said, "Every half year, they form a large trading fleet and rally the navies of a few nations to escort them through Nubari Islands. The pirates, having learned their lesson from the harsh battle with our kingdom's Fearless, no longer dares to take on large-scale fleets like that."

Claude nodded. "Since that's the case, we don't need to send any smuggling ships to Freia anymore. Instead, we should send them to the western coast to listen for news of the mainland. I trust that the battle between the two princes is something many nations are concerned about. It's very likely that we can get word of it from the west coast.

"Naturally, the news will have been a few months old by then, but it's still better than not knowing anything. At least, we'd have a frame of reference for what we will be facing eventually. Additionally, we have to send some secret informants back to Freia through their large trading fleets to make sure they're safe."

Bolonik seemed rather distressed. "Claude, you're right. But the problem is we are no longer able to find a suitable candidate we can rely on here in the colonies. The kingdom had always been monopolising intercontinental trade and heavily works against smugglers in the first place. Since the war started, smugglers travelling in between the continents number even fewer now. The five smuggling ships we sent out were manned by the only five captains the war theatre trusts that can sail between the continents. I'm afraid nobody will accept our request now that they're gone for good."

Claude shook his head. "We can pick one of the captains that sail in the near waters and provide them with long-distance trading vessels. We can even form a small warship flotilla to patrol the western coast. The nations there aren't our enemies and we can use resupply as a reason to dock there. Perhaps we can even forge a new trade route our war theatre can use. The western coast is also really big. There are colonies of seven nations there and I trust they have many things we need. We will definitely have goods they need as well. Trade doesn't have to necessarily be intercontinental, after all."

Skri nodded his agreement. The various prefectures on the mainland had regular trading arrangements, so did the colonies. Claude's idea to forge a trade route to the west coast was a reasonable one.

"Is there anyone suitable we can get to execute this plan?" Bolonik asked.

"Ummm..." Claude gave it some thought and helplessly gave his nomination. "Have the intelligence department's Colonel Borkal do it. I trust that he can perform even more swimmingly at the western coast since he could even handle the nikancha. However, we have to assign a few aides and guards to him to ensure his safety. He's our only contact with the nikancha, after all."

Ever since he returned to headquarters, Claude spent a few days with his wife, children and mother at Weyblon Manor. He met up with Skri once more to discuss the matter of elevating Lanu to city status. According to the expansion plans, the city of Lanu would be three times the size of the town. More than half of Lake Lanu would be included in the new area, which was a great deal larger than the small area of the lake the town of Lanu claimed.

According to the plans, Claude, being one of the five heads of the war theatre, could have a piece of land in the new villa area of the city for his own manor to be built. Once that was done, he would no longer have to rent Weyblon Manor. That was among the first public construction projects after the formation of the overseas bank. They would use the expanded Lanu to settle down even more settlers in Anfiston and afford them work opportunities, spearheading the economic development of the war theatre.

During the 9th month, Claude returned to Wickhamsburg. Before he left, he participated in another meeting. Bolonik believed that the civil war in the kingdom wouldn't end in the short term based on news he got from the smugglers at the western coast. It would be a great chance for the war theatre to consolidate its forces and develop its internal economy.

What they had to be wary of now was the Shiksans. There had been no news about Shiks for quite a while and there wasn't even a single attempt to attack the colonies' coastal ports. That put the war theatre on a constant edge. It was as if they had been blindfolded. So, Bolonik hoped that Thundercrash could complete the training of their various forces so that they wouldn't be taken unprepared by a surprise Shiksan attack.

Borkal was sent to the western coast to collect information. At the end of the 8th month, he boarded a ship at Port Vebator. The war theatre had supplied three light-class long-distance warships for a small patrol flotilla to sail to the western coast. They were estimated to return around the middle of the 10th month.

Before two days even passed after Claude's arrival in Wickhamsburg, he received a letter from Liboyd containing good news. The construction of the arms factory in Vebator was complete and he was invited to check it out. There was also a personal letter from Sonia. She asked Claude what the first product of the arms factory would be, and whether it could be her Sonia 591.

Chapter 426 - Loan

The arms factory was located in the southern part of Vebator at a spot rather near to the defence line set up at the colony's border by the voluntary Canasian cavalry. That area was covered in short hills and even the tallest peak was beneath 200 metres sea level. Blackstone Hills, as the place was known, was rather famous in Vebator for being a producer of black firestone.

However, nobody there was interested in harvesting those black firestones as the colony was filled with shrubs and woods, so fuel plentiful all around. One only had to go out of town for a short walk to be able to return with a whole stack of dried firewood. As such, black firestone, that produced pungent black smoke and soot upon burning, was rather unpopular. Claude recalled seeing an infographic made by the mining association that had black firestone ranked as fourth in priority of mining due to its relatively low value.

That was where Liboyd had chosen to set up the arms factory. He noticed the value black firestones could provide and believed the hot-air engines and steam-powered engines he created would cause the firestones to rise in value. After the black firestones were processed, they could burn even longer and provide even more heat. Additionally, it was a kind of fuel that could be used to heat up kilns and make it easier for different metals to meld together for the kinds of steel and alloy he needed.

Bolonik, Skri and Birkin rushed to Blackstone Hills at the end of the 9th month after receiving Claude's eagle message. They boarded a light-class warship Birkin had hailed and travelled along the coast straight to Port Vebator, before travelling on land to Blackstone Hills from there. They never would've imagined Claude would actually start an arms factory within the colony without anyone noticing in preparation to produce a new type of rifle.

Claude and Eiblont were there to welcome the other three. First, they took them on a tour in the factory. Bolonik and Skri looked at the columns of steam and black smoke that came out of the loud piston machines. There was a series of machine crushing all sorts of ore into smaller pieces and refining them into proper ingots and different alloys through all sorts of different processes. It was truly a sight to behold.

Skri had joined tours in a few large factories belonging to the kingdom's military industrial complexes and didn't think the theatre would ever have a factory of their own. That meant that the theatre was completely free from the mainland's arms embargo. They would no longer have to beg the mainland to provide them with arms and equipment.

Bolonik was rather impressed with the curious steam-powered and hot-air engines. He said that factories on Freia had to rely on potent water sources to power their machines. It appeared that the future would be powered by these new advances in technology instead.

At the time, Bolonik, Skri and Birkin were completely oblivious to what Claude referred to as a new rifle. They were under the impression that it was an improved matchlock gun. So, after visiting the ore-refining factory, they joined Claude for lunch. Eiblont, who had come a few days ago, had had his fill with the rifle in the factory for the past few days and chuckled without revealing a single thing. He wanted to see the shocked expressions of the other three when they finally saw the rifle for themselves.

After having lunch, it was finally time to take them to the firing range. There was a long table set up with more than ten recently manufactured Sonia 591s. As they were made from the production line, they were far from as polished as the ones Angelina had personally fashioned with her array. The parts on the guns and stock still looked like they could use good sanding down.

However, those rifles were enough to completely turn the worlds of the three generals upside down. Birkin acutely noticed the brass cartridges on the table. "So these use premade cartridges like the revolver?"

Seeing Claude nod, Birkin picked one new rifle up and grabbed a few cartridges. "Tell me, how should I use this?"

Eiblont stepped in and picked one up himself. "Watch and learn."

He demonstrated how to load the magazine in a practised manner and stuffed it at the bottom of the gun. He then pulled the bolt open and put a round into the open chamber before he got to shooting. While the bolt had to be pulled to eject the jacket after every shot, being able to fire successively six times was already shocking enough for the three generals. Their eyeballs almost popped out from disbelief.

After that, Bolonik fired the new rifle more than fifty times himself. Skri tried ten or so times and stopped. He rubbed his shoulders as he complained, "The recoil is even stronger than matchlocks."

"They're also heavier," Bolonik commented as he inspected the rifle, "But the reloading is far more quick and convenient. I believe the compromise is worth it."

Claude immediately told them the specifications of the rifle. Birkin was rather excited. He turned to Bolonik and said, "General, this is a weapon we definitely need. If we're armed with these new rifles, I can use a single tribe's worth of men to fight a folk and even win! If we have good fortifications, we can even make sure a whole enemy corps stops in their tracks..."

Bolonik ignored him and merely caressed the rifle lovingly in his hand. He knew that Claude's new rifle had eclipsed every single matchlock Freia produced. The technological advancement wasn't one to be measured in years, but rather, a whole generation. It was just as much a leap as the revolver's. His only hope was for the price of this rifle to not be nearly as expensive as their smaller cousin's.

Skri wasn't as well informed on firearms as Bolonik or Birkin, but as a soldier, he understood the kind of impact introducing the new rifle to the battlefield would have. As the chief logistics officer of the entire theatre, however, he was more concerned about the price. "How much would it cost to arm the forces on a large scale with these?"

Claude was still considering how he should break the number to them. Eiblont stretched out an open palm.

"Five crowns?" Bolonik was quite surprised. He didn't think the new rifles weren't as expensive as he had imagined. Perhaps they really could arm all the troops of the theatre with these new rifles, including the garrison lines where the veterans of the two corps served.

"In your dreams." Eiblont flipped his palm around. Everyone knew what he meant. Each new rifle cost ten crowns. For some reason, Bolonik and Birkin thought it was a worthwhile cost. Only Skri thought he could negotiate it lower.

Claude waved them away and stopped Skri from even attempting to haggle. He smiled in resignation as he said, "Actually, you're focusing on the wrong thing. The issue with the new rifles isn't with the rifles themselves, but rather, the rounds."

He picked up a cartridge from the table. "What you don't yet know is the cost of producing one such bullet. Each costs three sunars. If we make more than ten million rounds, we can decrease the cost to two sunars each, but that's the limit."

Bolonik, Birkin and Eiblont didn't seem to mind the price. Birkin even said, "Two sunars for one cartridge is still rather cheap."

Claude shook his head with a pained smile.

However, Skri, who was more adept with numbers, immediately paled. "We can't afford to use these new rifles. You might not know this, but the paper cartridges the Aubass Mark 3 use cost four iron pennies at most. In other words, these cartridges are 50 times the price of that..."

"If we follow the ministry of the army's standard training routine, each soldier has to fire at least a thousand live rounds for training purposes. So, we can assume each one of them will cost five crowns to train. Additionally, a hundred rounds will be spent during live-fire drills in each month. That will make the training cost for each soldier per year six crowns. One corps of 65 thousand men will cost more than 400 thousand crowns alone to train annually," Claude added.

Bolonik wiped the sweat off his forehead. "We really can't afford to use these rifles..."

Birkin still didn't seem convinced. "General, with these rifles, one of our own can take on ten of the enemy. It is the most substantial method we can use to increase our forces' strength. If both of our corps are armed with them, I can guarantee that nobody will be able to match up to us."

"Perhaps we can decrease the cost of training to half," Eiblont said, "The ministry specifies that each new recruit has to fire a thousand rounds because reloading is rather troublesome for matchlock muskets. The soldiers must constantly drill and perfect their reloading till it becomes a habit so they won't panic when they're deployed on the battlefield. Only then will they be able to reload in an orderly fashion and ensure their own survival.

"If we're to use these new rifles, there will no longer be a need to use the training routine designed for matchlock muskets. Reloading these new guns is quick and easy. The soldiers can easily master it, so we don't need to waste as many bullets as we first thought. A new recruit will be given live-round training ten times a month. If we use 50 rounds per session, we can effectively halve the cost of the rounds required for training.

"Additionally, we can decrease the frequency of our live-round drills. Let's only hold one once every three months and give each soldier a hundred rounds each time. All we need is for them to revise and practice firing. These new rifles are no matchlocks that require constant memorisation and repetition to maintain their mastery of the weapon, after all. The troops will only have to focus on learning how to aim properly with the rifles.

"If we count it that way, each corps will only take 150 thousand crowns per year to train. While that's still not a small sum, the increase in strength that the new rifles provide is not to be understated. Like Birkin said, our corps will be able to take on ten times their number. I believe the cost is justified, and even necessary, considering how much it would save us from the losses and deaths we can avoid."

"You speak sense, Eiblont, but currently, our theatre is still plagued with many other matters. The two million immigrants from the mainland have just been settled down in Cromwell and Balginana. We still have to integrate Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras under our rule. While we found 1.4 million crowns' worth of wealth there and also earned two million crowns from helping the nikancha nation with their migration and selling them arms, there are many other things that have drained us of our funds. Among them include driving and migrating the nikancha tribes away, recruiting new troops, reorganising the local garrison forces, expanding Lanu to a city, the formation of our overseas bank, the formation of our near-ocean fleet, as well as the infrastructure investments we made in Cromwell and Balingana.

"If I'm honest, we are still nearly a million crowns in the red since last year. We still have records for that. Now, we are counting on the paper notes the overseas bank issues to replace coins in the daily transactions of the common folk. Otherwise, our theatre would go bankrupt.

"The current financial state of the theatre is really bad. We have already tried our best to ensure that our two corps and 18 garrison lines are well supplied, since we still face an impending Shiksan attack and can't wait for reinforcements from the mainland since we've lost contact. We can only count on ourselves to survive this ordeal."

Bolonik sighed deeply. The burden had been rather stressful on him. His wrinkles grew deeper and his hair even whitened. As the acting field marshal of the theatre, he had to be responsible for all matters, military and civil, in the eight colonies. The responsibility was far too much.

"Claude, your new rifle is amazing, far beyond what matchlocks of the current generation have to offer. However, the theatre really can't afford to arm our men with them, at least not in the short term when it comes to the training costs. Do you have any thoughts and requests you'd like us to hear?"

Claude's grimace intensified. He knew what Bolonik said was all true, but he was the one who instructed Sonia to go forward with the rifle's development. If the theatre couldn't purchase them on a large scale, his arms factory would be useless too. He couldn't just shut it down.

"I hope the theatre can at least ensure we get a loan of a million crowns from the overseas bank to keep the arms factory running," Claude said, "I've invested 200 thousand crowns in the research of this rifle over the many years after much trial and error. Only with Madam Sonia's help was I able to succeed. Then, I used all the funds my family had at its disposal to start this arms factory for the production of these rifles.

"Now, the factory has only started operations so there aren't many side effects. At the current production rate, we can only make three thousand rifles and four million rounds at most per year. If possible, I'd like to use the loans to raise the production to ten thousand rifles and ten million rounds per year. We'll use these new weapons to pay off the loans. We'll replace the loadouts of our respective units slowly. That way, it wouldn't be a huge burden to the theatre, and we'll be able to increase our forces' might at the same time."

Bolonik gave it some thought. "Are you really that confident in the paper notes the overseas bank issues? If the notes don't work out in the colonies, we'll be in huge trouble."

The loans issued by the overseas bank came in the form of half cash and half notes.

Bolonik's worries were well placed. The people of this world have dealt in metal coins for millennia and many were still not confident enough in switching over to paper notes that represented value. If the notes ended up largely unpopular, the theatre might be able to survive the blow, but Claude's new arms factory that paid its workers in notes might have to close down immediately.

"General, I don't have any other choice," Claude said.

Chapter 427 - Fundraising

Claude really had no other way. His money was being spent like water. As an honorary viscount of the kingdom, his yearly stipend and other related bonuses amounted to around 400 crowns. All the generals in the theatre, Bolonik included, were lieutenant-generals, but their salaries were only half of his. Bolonik wasn't an honorary noble, so he didn't have the extra 200 crowns Claude's Title provided him with.

However, Kefnie was the one who dealt with the salary, stipend, bonuses and the rest. Claude's necessities were provided for free by the military and there were few instances when he'd truly need money. But it wasn't because his wife was the one who managed all household finances, but rather because he earned way more in the way of the other stuff than his salary. For instance, his victories in the three colonial wars with Thundercrash saw him earn up to nearly two thousand crowns in spoils. Those were all deposited into his national bank account which he managed himself.

Additionally, the 35 thousand plus crowns' worth of Shiksan wealth and the profits he had made from the sale of mortars and revolvers hadn't been accounted for. There was also a large ten-thousand-crown dividend from Borkal's company. Basically, Claude had more than 500 thousand crowns at his disposal.

Despite that, he spent money rather frivolously as well. Buying the farmstead for his sister and setting up the lab there cost about 20 thousand crowns, and that was the smaller part of the equation. Most of the spending went into the tens of thousands of crowns spent on good lab equipment and materials for Sonia and Angelina to use. If they didn't have those funds to play around with, even with Claude's direction, Sonia wouldn't have been able to create a new rifle within two short years.

Additionally, he also adopted more than 160 orphans for the Ferd household and ran a small elementary and middle school in the farmstead with the intent of developing talent for the house. That cost him quite a sum annually at around 10 thousand crowns. The necessities of the orphans weren't an issue; it was the tutors that cost a lot to hire as well as the expensive learning materials.

Claude also teamed up with Weyblon to start the refinery, owning up to a third of the shares. The first batch of ores to be processed would be refined into mithril or some other sort of alloy, so the initial profits weren't high. They had to slowly develop and up their scale.

Next was the production of the mortars. Claude earned around ten thousand crowns in profit from that, but now that war was no more, the theatre couldn't order more. The mortars they already had in stock would last the soldiers a long while for their training sessions, so there was no way he could count on more profits from mortar orders anytime soon.

Then, there was the engine sector where the hot-air and steam-powered engines were being developed. However, Claude had promised Weyblon he would reinvest all profits generated from that endeavour for the next three years into further development. As it was only the third year of that arrangement, he would only be getting the profit the following year.

And then there was this arms factory he was trying to get running. While he had obtained Shiksan fabrication equipment from Borkal for free, there was much else that needed funding. For instance, there were Claude's tasking of Liboyd and Sonia to survey a good location to set up a factory, a good place to purchase the mining rights for black firestone, hiring a few machinists in the colonies as well as other rogue rune magi, converting existing water-powered machines to hot-air ones, constructing the actual factory facility itself, hiring workers, and training them in the use of the new equipment and the setting up of cartridge production lines. Claude invested 280 thousand crowns into that endeavour to be able to give the factory a kick start.

While Liboyd was the nominal owner of the arms factory, the one who ran it was Sonia. Their estimations put their talented workers around a thousand plus. Currently, they were working at a rate of producing three thousand new rifles per year and four million brass cartridges. In terms of finances, they were making a slight loss, but it wasn't too debilitating since the factory only required 30 thousand crowns to maintain including production costs.

Ideally, they should be hiring more and more workers to undergo training until they had two thousand employees in the factory. That would raise the annual maintenance cost to 50 thousand crowns, but they could produce ten thousand rifles and ten million cartridges at that rate, production costs included. If they sold the new rifles at eight crowns each, they could earn up to three crowns in profits for each rifle sold.

However, Claude only had some 100 thousand crowns' worth of savings remaining. He still had to fund Angelina and Sonia for constant development and experimentation for proper tube mortar launchers. Additionally, he had to experiment with modifying light-infantry cannons to fire explosive shot instead of just scattershot and round shot. There was much money to be spent on those developments.

Liboyd's research had completely transitioned from firearms to engines, and Claude would have to provide him with funding too. All in all, his 100 thousand crowns wouldn't amount to much else. He wouldn't even be able to maintain the factory at the minimal production rate for two years. So, he hoped the theatre could be his guarantor for a loan of a million crowns to solve his crisis.

As for Bolonik's worry that paper notes wouldn't take off, Claude didn't pay it any heed. The paper notes were backed by the theatre itself, after all, and could be exchanged for real coin. As long as enough notes were gathered to amount to a thale, anyone could exchange the notes at the overseas bank for an actual thale coin.

Additionally, the notes could be used to pay taxes. That further cemented the interchangeability of notes and coins and also ensured that the notes would be circulated in the colonies in a healthy manner. There would also be measures to run checks in the market to punish or fine merchants that refused to accept notes as a means of payment by revoking their trading licences.

On top of all that, the units serving the theatre, ranging from the troops in the two corps to all the garrison soldiers, would be paid entirely in notes. In time, the citizens of the colonies would realise the benefits of using paper notes. At the very least, they would no longer have to carry large sacks of copper coins with them prior to making purchases, lest they attract the attention of thieves.

Bolonik finally nodded. "If you insist on getting a loan, the theatre can be your guarantor. But I really hope you reconsider. I'm not joking when I say you'll only be able to get half of your one million crowns in loans if the paper notes end up worthless. That would mean you'll make a loss of half a million crowns."

"Wait," Skri said, "I don't understand why you need to borrow a million crowns? You can easily distribute the risk to others. If you're willing to offer up the shares of your factory, I'm sure many rich folk in the colonies would be willing to buy them off you. They'll buy them at a premium and you'll be able to raise lots of funds easily."

Claude shook his head. "The reason I'm borrowing a million crowns is I need them for more weapon experiments. I want to develop new kinds of weapons that are never before seen. The mortars, for instance, are mostly used for attacking. But while the mortars we found in the Shiksan smuggling ship are heavy and inconvenient to use, they are perfect for use in defences. We can launch them far away with our standard catapults. Our troops will no doubt be under threat if we have to face such a setup in an attack.

"That's why I have to research even newer forms of weapons to ensure that we're always a few steps ahead of the enemy, such as modifying light-infantry cannons to be able to shoot explosive rounds. If we sell shares for the arms factory, even if the new shareholders have small amounts of our shares, they can still exert some influence on our operations. We'll also have to publicise our accounts. I don't want the hassle of dealing with them, and having public shareholders will make it really hard for us to keep secret weapon projects under wraps."

Claude knew that Skri was offering a suggestion as a kind gesture, but his explanation rendered the other generals speechless. All investors wanted returns on their profit, but Claude would be dumping all the money into a bottomless pit of investment. Nobody would be willing to buy into a scheme like that.

"Then let's get you your million-crown loan from the overseas bank with the theatre as your guarantor then," Bolonik decided.

If paper notes could successfully take off in the colonies, then Claude's arms factory would be able to make ten thousand new rifles and ten million rounds each year. In five years, he would be able to pay the loan back in goods. Naturally, the loan would be interest free. The theatre only had to pay 200 thousand crowns annually to eventually clear the debt. With the loan, Claude's minimum obligations would be to provide the arms he promised. He was free to use the rest of the funds for other experiments.

Since the theatre was going to be his guarantor, the matter was set in stone. Claude breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's go to my office, then. I have a really good business proposal I want you all to hear. Perhaps you might be interested in becoming shareholders as well."

The generals were quite surprised. Claude wasn't willing to offer up shares for the arms factory, yet now he said he had a business opportunity for them. Would it really be more profitable than the arms factory, however? After all, the factory would be producing bleeding-edge new rifles, albeit with rather expensive price tags. The price was so high that the theatre didn't dare to outfit their two corps with the new rifles right away. They only settled for slowly switching the guns out ten thousand rifles per year with the loan scheme.

When they entered his office, Claude took out a rolled-up scroll and laid it open on his desk. It was a blueprint for a black, metallic thing. On top of it was a cylindrical object laid horizontally. The cylinder had a smoke chute poking out from the back and below it was a rectangular object sandwiched between two steel wheels were connected to a long metal axle. Behind the cylinder was a small room that looked similar to a coach.

One of the drawings depicted the metallic object letting out smoke into the air dragging tens of other similar coaches behind it with steel wheels, coursing through the plains. It was worth noting that the ground on which the contraption travelled wasn't the usual flattened or cobblestoned path for carriages. They were two parallel rails with cushioning pieces of wood in between.

"What is this? A kind of carriage?" Birkin asked.

Claude nodded. "Yes, it's a railway carriage, or a train. It travels on a rail. The main component of the train is the frontmost locomotive. It is powered by a steam engine that moves the wheels beneath it, allowing the carriage to drag the tens of other ones behind it. Grandmaster Liboyd has confirmed that the head carriage can be built. We're currently running trials and have seen modest initial success.

"The prototype head carriage he made can pull ten rear carriages filled entirely with black firestone. It travelled in three rounds of railroad, roughly 1500 metres, before expiring due to inadequate materials used in the forging. However, he promised that he'd be able to solve that production issue in the next three months and completely refine the internal structure of the head carriage.

"The area the colonies occupy is far too wide. It takes up to a month to travel from Vebator to the southmost Aduras colony. If we go by sea, we'll take 20 days at least, but the risks are far more substantial. While we're sailing near to the coast, we wouldn't be able to completely prevent pirate attacks or some other maritime accident.

"But if we travel by train, it'll only take seven days and nights to travel from Vebator to Aduras, assuming it travels at a rate of 30 kilometres per hour. The longest it'll take is ten days. The reason for that is simple. Riders have to ensure their mounts get enough rest and sailing requires a safe place to stop during the night. However, trains can travel without stopping. The guests can rest within the cabins and even sleep as the train cars move. When they awaken, they'll have reached their destinations.

"Militarily speaking, trains can ensure we don't need to march our troops long distances. We can send them to the frontlines using the train and it'll greatly help with deployment and reinforcements. For civilians, they can use trains to ship large amounts of goods easily and also travel from one place to another without much trouble. All the train needs is a steady supply of black firestone and water for steam."

Actually, Claude only had to describe how the train worked and the other generals would easily be able to picture what kind of impact the train would bring to the colonies. They didn't doubt his words at all. It was indeed a rather good business venture. If they could own a small share in it, they would have enough wealth to be passed down in their families for generations.

"How do we get a piece of the shares?" Bolonik asked.

"I'll give each one of you two percent shares for ten thousand crowns. The four of you will own up to eight percent in total. my own shares will be twelve percent, and I'll put in 60 thousand crowns for it. Coupled together, we'll have 100 thousand crowns. Grandmaster Liboyd and his daughter, as well as their technician team, will own up to ten percent in shares for the creation of the head carriage. As for the other 70 percent, I plan to use them to raise funds. They'll sell for 20 thousand crowns per one percent, and the total of 1.5 million crowns will be used for the construction of the rails and the formation of the railway company." Claude had long drafted up a plan for that.

"But Balingana and Robisto are separated by Dorinibla River..." Eiblont reminded.

"There are two methods to deal with that. We can build railroads all the way to Dorinibla River and stop there. We'll have another railway line on the other side of the river. The other method is to build a steel bridge across the river to link the two colonies into one, but this method will cost more as the technological challenges are much harder. It's still not certain whether it'd be possible. We might have to further dilute our shares to raise more funds from the populace for that steel bridge..."

Chapter 428 - Lease

Claude rushed back to Lanu at the end of the 10th month because the overseas bank had finally been formed after ten long months of work. It would officially start operations on the 25th of the 10th month. As one of the five heads of the theatre, he had to attend the opening ceremony to show his endorsement for the bank. Additionally, he also had to be there to sign his loan. As it was the first loan ever made by the bank, Claude got the benefit of not having to pay any interest.

Naturally, that was all agreed upon beforehand. While Claude was the one who loaned the million crowns, the theatre would be held accountable for paying it back. Each year, the theatre would pay 200 thousand crowns to the overseas bank and Claude would provide them with ten thousand new rifles and ten million rounds of ammunition. The debt would only be paid off after five years.

It was a reasonable compromise for all parties. Claude would be able to maintain the arms factory while having enough funds for the development and experimentation of new weapons. The theatre would receive new rifles to increase the might of their forces step by step. As for the overseas bank, while the loan was interest-free, the amount was incredible and sufficient to dispel any doubts others still held about the bank. It was a huge show of the close ties between the theatre and the bank, after all. With the theatre backing them like that, Viscount Godic believed that the overseas bank would soon be the top bank in the colonies.

What Claude didn't think was that he'd see an anxious messenger headquarters sent to him less than half an hour after his arrival in Weyblon Manor. He was summoned to headquarters for a meeting by Bolonik and all the other generals were already there.

It didn't seem like there was anything else he had to tend to, however. Apart from the launch of the overseas bank two days later, he didn't receive any urgent notifications of sorts from the theatre. He had already stripped in preparation for a bath and had to put it all back on again. He couldn't figure out what had happened even as he rode the carriage to headquarters.

The one who received him was a gloomy Bolonik. Claude had a bad premonition as it seemed like something serious had happened. Otherwise, Bolonik's expression wouldn't be that sour. "What is it? What's going on?"

Bolonik answered his question with another, "If I have the overseas bank loan you three million crowns, how many new rifles will you be able to produce per year?"

Claude grimaced. Some things couldn't be solved just because there was more money. However, he did have some estimations from Liboyd. "If we continue to hire more people for training and change the factory to keep running 24 hours, we'll be able to make 30 thousand new rifles per year at most. The main limitation is the machining equipment and the half-year optimisation we'll have to run. But if we do this, the cost of manpower and wastage of resources will undoubtedly increase."

"What about ammunition?"

"Still the same ten million rounds. We set up the brass cartridge production line. Even if we allocate a hundred rounds for each rifle made, there'll be more than enough ammunition for the troops to be trained and deployed with. When we have more new rifles two years later, we can start another production line," Claude explained.

"Good. Then, your loan will be three million crowns. Have your factory produce the Sonia 591s at full steam and arm Thundercrash with it," Bolonik decided without hesitation.

"What in the world happened?" Claude asked, shocked. Bolonik seemed like he would be willing to arm the troops with better weapons to raise their fighting capabilities no matter the cost. It looked as if he would sell even his house to fund that endeavour.

Bolonik chuckled resignedly. "Shiks has returned, this time, with ten standing corps for real."

"Impossible!" Claude wasn't willing to believe it in the slightest. "It must be a rumour! Even if Shiks has ten standing corps, where would they dock and deploy? There are only three ports suitable for large-scale deployment in our colonies, but we've already made extensive defensive preparations in all of them. There's no way Shiks can do it even if they loan the Alliance's navy to attack our ports with Seaking! If they can't take a port, then there's no way the ten standing corps can get on land! They might as well feed their men to the fish!

"Additionally, even if Shiks wants to use Prince Hansbach's trick of maritime deployment, I'd be more than willing to capture us more labourers at the beaches. Prince Hansbach's tactic only worked because nobody was paying attention to the coast. Our coasts are covered in reefs and the towns and cities by the coast are all heavily defended. There's no way they'll be able to approach the coast at all, and there's no way they'll be able to send troops, cannons and supplies onto shore from two kilometres away at the shallower parts of the sea! Without any logistical support, what would they eat? Where would they sleep? Who would bring them their muskets?"

"Can you let me finish first?" Bolonik shook his head in frustration after Claude unloaded his saliva all over his face. "I know about this far better than you do! The problem is Shiks isn't planning to use their ten corps to attack our ports, nor are they trying to dock and deploy in our colonies. They're going to gather their forces at the western coast before marching them down south."

"What?! Where did you hear that?"

"Colonel Borkal sent an aide back with all sorts of newspaper reports from the colonies on the western coast. While most of them are two to three months old, they state that Shiks was preparing to work with the United Kingdom of Fochs and lease their Nubissian colony to send their troops south. Word of that has spread all over the colonies of the various nations on the western coast by now. The latest word is that Shiks will soon be able to strike up a deal for a lease with the nation of Fochs Islands. They'll have two standing corps sent to the colony of the United Kingdom of Fochs on Nubissia latest by the first half of next year..."

Fochs Islands, located south of Freia, encompassed six major islands and tens of minor islands. The part of the islands facing the continent of Freia was separated by Gillis Strait. Claude recalled that the history textbooks described the United Kingdom of Fochs as where the Pirates of Krim originated from a thousand years ago. They often sailed to the coasts of Freia to raid and pillage.

After the Sacred Light Calendar started to be used on Freia, the six dukes in Foch Islands decided to pick a king to rule their now-united kingdom. The only difference between their kings and kings of other nations was each king had a fixed service term of two decades. They would have to abdicate their throne every 20 years for another one of the six dukes to be elected as king.

The United Kingdom of Fochs sported a strong navy. They could be said to own the strongest navy among all of Freia. They had four fleets in total, each named after the gods the ancient Krim believed in. They were also the earliest explorers and colonisers of Nubissia and had four colonies on the western coast of Nubissia, but they weren't interconnected. It was said that Fochs also had six other colonies on Nubissia's eastern coast. Fochs was the nation that occupied the largest area on the Nubissian continent.

Bolonik pointed at the meeting room. "Let's continue our talk inside. There are so many papers reporting about it, so it can't be purely rumours. Many of the papers are publications by other nations and they also include lots of information about our mainland. Sigh..."

It seemed that the news wasn't good. Claude pushed the door open, only to see Birkin and Eiblont standing in front of the map on the wall arguing about something. Skri was sorting out the newspapers on the table according to priority. Seeing Claude enter, he gave him a curt nod and pointed at a folder he wanted him to see first.

Inside the folder was Borkal's report. He took three informants from the intelligence department as well as his aide and guards. In total, all eleven of them left by a light-class patrol warship by the name of Triumphant on the 20th of the 8th month from Vebator, escorted by two ships of similar class, namely, Flying Fish and Gale, and sailed northward.

After a seven-day voyage, the little flotilla circled around Cape Moroks and reached the western coast, which was outside of the waters of the nikancha nation north of the theatre. The closest colony to the nikancha nation was the fourth and smallest colony of Fochs that was about a third of the size of Tyrrsim, Cape Loducus.

Cape Loducus was surrounded by mountains at its southern and eastern borders, which were considered to be the territories of the nikancha nation. The west of the colony faced the sea and to its north was a colony of the Kingdom of Lesnia, a Southern Freian nation. Fochs' fourth colony was thus kept limited in the small valley plains next to the cape and couldn't expand much.

It was said that the most famous adventurer of the United Kingdom of Fochs, Rodriguez, had made a famous error picking the location of the colony. Fochs was mainly split into six major islands, so the subjects of the kingdom weren't united like those of other kingdoms were. Arguments and strife among them were common. Their Krim pirate ancestors had fought among one another for nearly two centuries, after all.

Usually, Freian nations attempting to form colonies on Nubissia would first occupy a plot of land before expanding around it until there was nowhere else to expand or they encountered a colony from another nation. Fochs, however, was an exception. For instance, once people from the first major island occupied one colony, those of the second major island would seek out another piece of unoccupied land for their own colony. The third major island would definitely pick another location to form their colony without having to neighbour the colonies of the other islanders.

That was the case with Rodriguez too. He sailed south from the western coast with his crew and saw Cape Moroks and thought that he had reached the end of Nubissia, so he got onshore. Noticing that the waters around the cape were calm and rich with fish, and the coast having a large stretch of flatlands with dense vegetation, he decided to make that spot his colony. But when they surveyed south, they noticed that they were surrounded by mountains in both directions. To their north was the desolate desert. In the end, the colony couldn't expand and was limited to the plains in the valley of the two mountains.

Borkal's little flotilla docked with the excuse of wanting to resupply after losing their way while chasing pirates. The officials of Fochs' colony didn't give them any trouble. But when they heard they were colonial patrol ships for Aueras, they looked at them oddly. Nevertheless, they still permitted them to dock and rest.

But when they reached the tavern at the docks, Borkal and the rest were surrounded by a huge crowd. There were two local journalists who asked them for their views on the Shiksan lease of the colony of Cape Loducus, as well as whether Aueras or Shiks would win in the upcoming war.

They were completely stupefied. They only knew the truth after the crowd kindly explained the situation to them. During the middle of the 11th month last year, Shiks sent an ambassador to the United Kingdom of Fochs to lease Cape Loducus for them to deploy and rally their troops there. They were going to sweep the independent nikancha nation with their ten standing corps before facing off against the Aueran colonies in a final standoff.

When news of that broke during the former half last year at the western coast, the colonies of various nations got into a heated debate. There were just as many in favour of the lease as those opposed. Some were worried that the ten standing corps of Shiks would march north instead of south. Should that be the case, Lesnia's colony would be the first to fall.

There were some that sat on the sidelines to watch the show. The colonies further away even had newspapers that floated the idea of a defence pact between the colonies. However, it didn't seem to gain traction as the colonies went to war over even something so trivial as water sources or ore deposits.

Fochs, however, had their own unique take on the situation. They didn't want to merely lease their colony away. Instead, they wanted to sell it. They had more than enough colonies, after all, and Cape Loducus wouldn't be able to create any more value for them apart from having beautiful and scenic views. So, they offered it up for sale for an astronomical price, one that Shiks couldn't afford.

Shiks countered with a request for a five-year lease with a higher amount of rent, and Fochs was still considering the matter. Some reports state that Shiks had already sent a survey unit to inspect the status of Cape Loducus. It was believed that the lease would be settled by the latter half of this year and Shiks would start sending their ten standing corps over nonstop first thing next year.

"Cape Loducus is located near the northern mountainous coasts, which is rich with mineral resources. Why didn't the Fochsians expand their colony into the mountains?" Claude asked.

Skri knew the reason well.

"The Krim of Fochs Islands call themselves the people of the sea. They hate climbing mountains the most. While they might be interested in exploring hills, the mountainous northern coast is filled with towering mountains and cliffs. The Krim are naturally averse to those and would automatically stop at the borders of the mountains without daring to go in deeper."

Perhaps it was a unique trait of their people, odd as it was. Claude continued to read through the report. When Borkal found out about the news, he immediately gathered all newspapers at the cape from a few days to a few months prior. He bought them all for a high price and sent his aide to deliver them to the theatre as soon as possible.

He, on the other hand, would disguise himself and the other three informants, as well as the rest of the guards as representatives of his wild-bull company to survey the economic state of the colonies on the western coast and get into contact with the large companies on Nubissia and Freia. During the first half of the following year, he would send two informants to join the large trading fleet's voyage back to the mainland.

Chapter 429 - Argument and Captives

"We have to strike a deal with the nikancha to set up a defence line at the border between Cape Loducus and their border in the mountains to prepare ourselves against an attack of the ten standing corps," Birkin stressed.

Eiblont flashed a pained smile. "I already told you that the nikancha definitely won't let our troops enter their territory. I've interacted with them often and all of them are so stubborn you'd think their heads are filled with stones. They formed their own nation and now think of it as their inviolable sacred land. Even if you tell them about the impending Shiksan attack, they'll suspect us for trying to plot against them constantly until they're actually attacked..."

"Have Colonel Borkal come back, then. Doesn't he have a good rapport with the nikancha? They trust him far more than they do the theatre. Have him tell them that we're going to help them, not occupy their territory!"

"It's pointless--" Eiblont shook his head. "--The nikancha trust Colonel Borkal because of the arms deal and trade. The colonel used the principles of trade to earn their trust. They wouldn't believe him when their independent nation's territory and autonomy is at stake.

"That's especially the case after we used force to drive the nikancha tribes in Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Aduras away and killed some stubborn elders and nikancha youths. We earned the ire of quite a number of tribes in the nation. If not for the fact they aren't able to find others to sell them arms and supplies, they would've chased the wild-bull company out long ago."

"Then we should strike first and conquer the northern mountainous coasts. We'll fortify that area and let the Shiksan forces shatter their own heads against our defence line," Birkin said savagely.

"Bick, if we use your method, we'll lose an ally in the upcoming battles. The main reason we wanted the nikancha to form their own nation in the first place was to be a buffer for our colonies from northern threats. If we become the first aggressors, we'll only gain ourselves an unrelenting enemy. We would've only had to fight one foe, Shiks, in the first place. If we let you have your way, we'll have to face two foes. We are already weaker in numbers, and that will only worsen our position," Eiblont argued.

Birkin burst out laughing. "Can the nikancha even count as a foe? Their pathetic combat capabilities wouldn't last against two of our garrison lines. We can easily keep them outside our defences. It's precisely because of our limited numbers that we ought to capture the northern mountainous coasts so we can build a strong defence line using the terrain there. If we arm Monolith with the new rifles, I am confident we can take on enemies ten times our size. A single of our corps will be able to hold ten standing Shiksan corps outside our colonies easily."

"Do you think stationing Monolith at the northern mountainous coasts is all it'll take? What about the defences of the three port cities and our own coastline? Are you going to station our garrison lines there? That will disrupt the entire defence posting of the theatre. We'll expose openings that the enemy can take advantage of without even realising it. The Shiksans are no wild boars. If they are completely stopped at the northern mountainous coasts by Monolith, the first thing that will come to their mind will no doubt be how our coastlines are undefended.

"Additionally, even if we take that area, how are we going to deal with logistics? That isn't our territory where roads are built all over. The nikancha are used to travelling on mountainous paths. How can you count on using carriages to transport supplies there? And offending the nikancha will mean that our supply convoys will constantly come under their attacks. That's why we can't ever deploy our troops to capture the northern mountainous coasts!" Eiblont yelled, feeling a little angry.

"What are they arguing about?" Claude asked Bolonik.

"They're trying to figure out how we can stop the ten Shiksan corps." Bolonik picked up a teapot and noticed that there wasn't any water in it. He pulled on a bell rope and had his aide enter to make him a new pot of tea. After all was said and done, he pointed at the map on the wall and explained, "The nikancha nation occupies the northern mountainous coasts which border Cape Loducus. Bick and Eilon think that Shiks will only march their army south after gathering all ten standing corps first.

"Only if they conquer this area can the enemy continue mounting an attack on the nikancha nation or our Vebator colony. Bick thinks that we should get in contact with the nikancha to build defence lines in the northern mountainous coasts for a multi-layered resistance effort to wear down the ten Shiksan corps. By relying on our new rifles, we will keep their forces outside of our colonies. That way, the war wouldn't affect economic development in our eight colonies no matter how long it lasts.

"Eilon doesn't think the nikancha will believe our warning. Even if they found that Shiks are about to attack them, they definitely wouldn't let our troops into their territory to help them with defence. If the nikancha aren't willing to use our help to defend against a Shiksan attack, then we won't be able to form defence lines in the northern mountainous coasts. By the time Shiks conquered the area, their next step would be to send their troops across Vebator. We'll have to be prepared for a scorched-earth tactic if that happens.

If the enemy only has two or three corps, we wouldn't have to care who has the mountainous coasts. But now, Shiks has amassed ten standing corps and their troops number more than 600 thousand. We only have two corps in our theatre and 18 garrison lines. Their numbers completely dwarf ours. Without the aid of terranean advantage, we'll be hard pressed to weather their attacks, especially if keeping casualties low isn't on their agenda. If we get swarmed by the enemy, there's a good chance we'd be heavily encircled. It would make it difficult for us to get out of that rut."

Claude quickly understood the subtext behind Bolonik's words. The enemy had far too many troops. While the theatre had Thundercrash, Monolith and 18 other garrison lines, totalling up to around 200 thousand in troop numbers, the eight colonies of the theatre covered too much area. Their forces had to be spread rather thin to hold strategic locations across the theatre. Monolith, for instance, had two folks and one of them had to assign their four main combat lines to defend Port Vebator, Port Patres, Port Cobius and Dorinibla River Defence Line.

As such, Monolith could only mobilise around 20 thousand men from one folk and one extra direct-line that reported to corps command. Claude's Thundercrash was an attack-based light-cavalry corps, so they wouldn't play much of a part in defensive battles.

If Shiks' ten standing corps with 600 thousand men came crashing like a hammer, one Monolith folk, Thundercrash and a few garrison lines would be hard pressed to defend against an assault of that magnitude on flatlands. They might even end up surrounded.

The enemy's numbers allowed them to focus their might to strike one specific area. Even if they went up against an Aueran defence line on flatlands, they could easily attack one specific point with all they had to breach it, rendering it useless.

It was precisely that which caused Eiblont and Birkin to argue so much over the northern mountainous coasts. If they wanted to resist the enemy outside the colonies, the coasts' terrain would be ideal, but they would have to gain the support and aid of the nikancha first.

Eiblont, who interacted often with the nikancha at Port Vebator, knew their characters well. They would refuse most of the theatre's requests. Even if the theatre sincerely wanted to offer help, they would suspect their intentions. Only Borkal had his own methods to use against the nikancha's stubborn character.

Back when Claude wanted to get the nikancha tribes to migrate from the three colonies, Borkal spun the whole matter into an offer to the nikancha nation to save their own kind from the oppressive Aueran settlers. For that, the nikancha nation provided him with a million crowns' worth of supplies and gold and silver as payment for helping rescue their oppressed kind.

Later, Claude used force to evict the nikancha tribes that weren't willing to leave and forced them onto the transport ships. When the nikancha reached their home nation and complained to the elders about the bloody eviction, the elders gleefully thought their oppressed kind were liberated and rescued thanks only to them. They were so thankful for Borkal's help they even granted him the honorary title of the friend of the nikancha.

Eiblont's idea was to help the nikancha nation reorganise their troops and equipment and to sell the goods they kept stored away in the warehouse to them for a really low price to strengthen them. That way, when the Shiksans attack, the nikancha forces would be the first ones to fight and chip away at the Shiksan troops. Only when they couldn't hold on any longer would the theatre interfere. That way, the nikancha would be thankful to the theatre and be willing to fight Shiks together.

However, that idea wasn't without its flaws. By the time the nikancha could no longer hold out, the Shiksan troops might've arrived at the theatre's borders already. Even if the theatre could send troops into the northern mountainous coasts, they would only be able to hold a small area. They couldn't form a long defence line as a single breach was all it took for the rest to collapse.

That was why Birkin insisted on sending all troops to the mountainous coasts. Currently, they couldn't afford to use any scorched-earth tactics in Cromwell, Balingana and Vebator. Vebator was now where the arms factory was situated. Production of the new rifles was ongoing there. Cromwell and Balingana had just seen the settlement of more than two million settlers. War in either of those colonies would result in heavy and crippling losses.

"Stop arguing and take a seat. Let's have a proper discussion," Bolonik said with a furrowed brow.

Claude put the folder down. "I have a question. Do you remember the latter half of last year when Majid III just managed to stop the noble rebellion in his kingdom? How was he able to form ten standing corps before two years even passed? There's no way forced conscription can work nearly as quickly. Our kingdom only managed to form five new corps during the five-year war to serve as reserves for the main corps of our kingdom. Most of them were forcefully conscripted local keepers too."

Claude believed that if the troops of those ten corps were merely rookies, there wouldn't be anything they'd have to worry about. Forming new corps with farmers without even spending two years and sending them to the distant Nubissia to fight a war... One could only imagine the kind of combat capability they would have. Perhaps the nikancha forces would be enough to keep them outside their borders.

Skri handed him a newspaper publication called 'News Today'. "Read this report."

Claude looked at the headline with a red tick. His expression turned grim immediately. It was published three months ago and talked about the intent of Shiks to lease Cape Loducus from the United Kingdom of Fochs.

However, the highlighted part stated that after Prince Hansbach's rebel forces hooked up with Shiks to use Seaking to obliterate the Aueran fleet, Fearless, more than 300 thousand Shiksan captives in the former territories of Rimodra, Askilin and Sidins were released.

Majid III sent a representative there to form five new standing corps with the captives and paid Prince Hansbach another sum of money to rent the well-facilitated Port Floric in old Rimodra as the training grounds for the five corps.

The report stated that Shiks formed the five corps in hopes that they would be able to wipe away their humiliation by sending them to the upcoming war with the Aueran colonies as thanks for the trust and support Majid III gave them. The moment the lease deal was finalised between Fochs and Shiks, the five corps would be the first batch of troops to be sent to the colonies.

Claude's expression worsened. The 300 thousand troops were captives from the first and second colonial wars and were combat ready to an extent. That was especially the case during the second colonial war, when Ranger managed to capture near 300 thousand troops thanks to Miselk's tactic of cutting off their supply line.

However, the new nobility set their greedy sights on the 300 thousand captives and wanted to use them as unpaid labourers. So, they struck up a deal with Miselk by offering to send the 10 thousand households of forcefully discharged soldiers to the theatre for the formation of the five enhanced folks in exchange for shipping the 300 thousand Shiksan captives to the mainland as the main source of manpower to develop the new territories.

Now, the 300 thousand captives were armed and organised into five standing corps. They were veterans ready to undo their shame in the following colonial war and were far tougher than newly formed corps. They wouldn't be easy to deal with.

In the theatre, Monolith and Thundercrash had transferred their veterans into the local garrison forces and recruited 100 thousand new recruits. While their training was complete, they didn't have a single shred of experience in battle.

"Ridiculous!" Claude grit his teeth tight and slammed the meeting table with his fist. "Now, I'm glad we refused Prince Hansbach's demands and didn't join his side. Otherwise, we'd truly have become traitors to the kingdom!"

Chapter 430 - Faceslapping

Sometimes, the bolder the claim made, the faster the face slapping came. The moment Claude said he was glad he didn't pledge allegiance to the first prince or it would make him a traitor, Bolonik, Skri, Eiblont and Birkin shot him an odd look. Skri took another document out from the stack and handed it to Claude. "You better read this first..."

It was a newspaper from Aueras' archenemy, Shiks, called 'Pioneer Forum'. It was published three months ago as well and was probably left on the ship by some captain after he finished reading it. Bolonik had purchased those newspapers for a high price and got the long-outdated paper as well.

The report was rather interesting as the main headline celebrated the coming of peace. It described that the formerly misguided Aueras had changed its tune from stubborn resistance to one of peaceful cooperation, forging a new chapter of peace with Nasri. They had good reason to claim such good news. Stellin XI, or, Prince Wedrick, had sent ambassadors to Nasri and signed an agreement to return Kafreizit, Lasdonkrun, Botarnia as well as Woodnisia, a prefecture conquered during the five-year war, to Nasri.

During the reigns of Stellin IX and Stellin X, Aueras went to war with Nasri three times. Aueras' troops had marched all the way to the Nasrian royal capital twice. Kafreizit, Lasdonkrun and Botarnia used to be Nasrian territory, and during the third war between the two kingdoms, Nasri had no choice but to formally cede those territories to Aueras for peace.

That was why Nasri became the archenemy of Aueras. During the five-year war, Aueras' Reddragon conquered Woodnisia and didn't return it to Nasri. The ransom they demanded was far too high and they had no choice but to pay the ransom with territory. However, those four prefectures were in the Nasrian borderlands and not too easy to govern. The citizens there were easily influenced by the secret fanning of flames by the Nasrians, often resulting in revolts against Aueras.

Fortunately, there was a detailed analysis in the report which explained to Claude why Wedrick did so. Basically, Wedrick was trying to get rid of a burden and prevent a two-front war. By abandoning territory that wouldn't benefit him in any way and even needed investment to develop, he could focus his troops to stabilise the kingdom by ending Hansbach's rebellion and get rid of a rival for his throne.

At the end of the 5th month, Hansbach and Wedrick's forces finally engaged in a large-scale conflict, with there being multiple offensive and defensive battles fought. It wasn't the traditional line-and-march tactic Freians used after gathering their men in one spot. Instead, both sides surprised attacked their respective strongholds and tried to break their defence lines and trenches.

The battles were really ferocious and both sides fought savagely. Mortars and grenades flew all over the place from day till night and the battlefields were littered with corpses and severed limbs. However, both sides had great defences. Even after the first line of defence was breached, they had others behind them to hold the enemy back. The battles lasted more than a month and ended with heavy losses from both sides, numbering up to the 200 thousands. In the end, they couldn't even continue to supply necessary ammunition and had no choice but to cease hostilities to recover.

In terms of military might, Hansbach's units were far tougher than Wedrick's. It also helped that Hansbach personally led some of the battles as well. The problem was, just like Miselk said, logistics. Wedrick, with the old nobility's support from their military industries, had far more supplies and resources. For every mortar his enemy lobbed, he could return with three or four.

Hansbach's men, however, were expert melee fighters. As long as they could rush close to enemy strongholds, they would be able to take them easily. However, Wedrick's men grew more experienced and quickly gathered their mortar units to send hundreds of them flying towards the strongholds they lost and managed to kill many of Hansbach's men that way.

The battles were collectively called the Bloody Six Months. Both sides attacked each other's defences and suffered heavy losses without being able to settle on a victor. However, it probably fared worse for Hansbach overall. He couldn't compete with Wedrick in terms of ammunition and supplies and had no choice but to give up on the four prefectures he set his defence line across to retreat his forces to Whitestag for a staunch defence. He hoped to use the men he stationed in the mountains to stop Wedrick's forces to buy time for him to catch a breather.

Even though Wedrick managed to reclaim four prefectures, he didn't have that good a time either. He was now relying on loans to fund the war effort. Hansbach now held the new northeastern prefectures as well as the three southwestern prefectures whereas Wedrick occupied the central area of the kingdom. While the central area was the most developed of all the kingdom, it had been ravaged greatly by the Bloody Six Months. It would be long before they could recover and they were no longer able to provide much aid to Wedrick.

Wedrick was no fool and understood that he couldn't afford to give Hansbach the time he needed. He should be pressing the attack to force him away from the three southwestern prefectures. However, Hansbach had holed up in Whitestag, where Stellin IX started the kingdom's restoration, and Wedrick didn't want his brother to repeat his grandfather's miraculous uprising.

However, the terrain around Whitestag was mountainous and dangerous. With the royal guard occupied with defence and Reddragon having to be reorganised, there was not much he could do. Sending irregular corps to attack was merely giving Hansbach free prey. Griffon was the most proficient in fighting battles in mountainous terrain, however, it was stationed in Audin Mountain Range to stop the attack from the two newly formed standing corps and couldn't be mobilised to attack Whitestag.

It was then when Wedrick decided to return the four prefectures to Nasri. Not only were those border prefectures unproductive, it also cost a good sum of money to maintain order in them and suppress revolts. Reddragon, for instance, had always been stationed in Botarnia to put pressure on Nasri.

The other reason was after the return of those four prefectures, Griffon could be called back from Audin Mountain Range. Even if Prince Hansbach's two irregular corps conquered the mountain range, they wouldn't be able to pose a threat to the kingdom. After all, beyond the mountains were Kafreizit, which was now Nasrian territory. Unless they wanted to antagonise Nasri, the first prince's men wouldn't be able to attack the kingdom's heartland from the mountain range.

It was a three-birds-one-stone situation. First, he would lose a burden and no longer have to pay exorbitant military costs to keep the border prefectures secure. Second, he would be able to call Griffon back to attack Hansbach in Whitestag. Third, there would be no risk of fighting a war on two fronts. Even if Hansbach managed to turn the tables around and start conquering more land, he would notice that the territories he took were no longer connected to the other Aueran prefectures. He would have to first take Nasrian-controlled Kafreizit to be able to pose any threat to the kingdom.

It was not without downsides, however. In essence, what Wedrick did was undo all Stellin IX and Stellin X's victories. He would be known best as the king who failed his kingdom. However, he no longer cared about such a thing like repute when all his attention was focused on exiling Hansbach from the kingdom or eradicating him completely so he could sit on his throne without worry.

Pioneer Forum's report was really detailed. The points they made were hard to argue with and the one who wrote the report did have a good eye.

Claude put the newspaper down speechlessly. He felt his face tingle from the figurative slap. Hansbach had released 300 thousand Shiksan captives whereas Wedrick gave Nasri back the four border prefectures. While he couldn't get any inside information about it, he had little doubt Wedrick had been paid off to do so.

The problem was whether the sum could even make up for the loss of all that territory. In the eyes of the soldiers, Wedrick's actions were akin to completely rendering the sacrifice of their fallen comrades in vain. Not only did he fail the royal family and stomp all the honour Stellin IX obtained under his foot, he also lost the glory of the brave souls that died on the battlefield.

Other things aside, the moment the kingdom lost contact with the newly conquered territories was akin to Wedrick giving up on the right to govern them. Those territories were obtained through the sacrifice of more than 600 thousand dead or injured soldiers and the stockpile the kingdom built up over two decades, as well as the five-year war in Eastern Freia during which three duchies were exterminated.

Now, the territories of the duchies were all lost to Hansbach. It seemed that Wedrick didn't mind Hansbach founding his own nation there at all to use it as a base to attack the rest of the kingdom. All Wedrick seemed to want was to get Hansbach out of his kingdom so he could sit comfortably on his throne. As for the strong objections of the troops, he pretended not to see them at all.

Bolonik sighed deeply and broke the silence in the meeting room. "Two brothers fought so hard for the throne and resulted in such a predicament... Initially, it was all thanks to Stellin X's policies to encourage the founding of the colonies in Nubissia for this scale to even be possible in the first place. After two decades of wealth gathering in the royal treasury and the extermination of three duchies, much territory was conquered and the kingdom became the hegemon of Eastern Freia.

"Yet, these two princes seem to be trying to one-up the other in failing the kingdom. Prince Hansbach actually demanded us to cede the colonies to Shiks, whereas Prince Wedrick just straight up gave the four border prefectures to our archenemy, Nasri. The two brothers lost it all.

"As a soldier of the kingdom, it truly is a tragedy for us to have these two rulers. However, that isn't an excuse for us to give up on our duties. As long as we wear this uniform, we have to protect the colonies from enemy invasion. Even if Shiks really has gathered ten standing corps, we have to do our best to defeat them.

"Now, the situation is getting clearer and you also understand the state of the kingdom. I believe that even if Prince Wedrick obtains victory, we will be unable to get any help or support. Perhaps His Highness might even send ambassadors to scour us for money. So, we shouldn't place any hopes in His Highness. We have to rely on our own strengths."

Skri nodded.

"The only ones we can rely on here in the colonies are ourselves. It seems that almost all newspaper publications in the western coast don't think we can win. After all, Shiks did assemble a force of 600 thousand troops, with five corps being liberated Shiksan captives and another five being those troops who fought in the war to suppress the nobles' private armies' revolt. They can all fight to an extent.

"For many nations, a force of 600 thousand threatens their end. Shiks is planning to throw them all into the next colonial war, so they probably learned some lessons from their horrid defeats in the prior three. That's why they leased Cape Loducus from Fochs. Gathering all their men before marching them south is undoubtedly the best tactic they have. Shiks knows the colonies' weakness. We can't get support from the mainland and can only rely on two corps to weather their attack. We'll be wiped out even if they choose to fight a battle of attrition..."

"That's why we have to take the northern mountainous coasts first to form a defence line and use our advanced weapons to repel them! If the nikancha don't know what's good for themselves, I won't mind wiping them out!" Birkin stressed again.

However, Eiblont wasn't the one arguing against it this time. Claude gave Birkin a cold stare. "How are you so certain that Shiks will definitely march their troops south through the northern mountainous coasts? If you conquer that area and set up a defence line there only to have them circumvent the defence line using another route, what would you do? You'd have offended the nikancha and earned us another archenemy. You don't think we're in enough trouble already?"

"B-but... if they don't go through the northern mountainous coasts, where would the Shiksans come from? Fly to us across the seas?" Birkin muttered. Though, he knew that Claude was his superior when it came to strategy, so he definitely saw something he didn't.

Claude went to the map on the wall and knocked on the mountains bordering the east of Cape Loducus. "Don't forget Shiks' inland colonies are mostly in this direction. The darned nikancha still haven't managed to conquer them. If the Shiksans want to attack after gathering their forces, they could always, no, they'd almost certainly rescue the settlers trapped in the inland colonies first.

"Additionally, they see the nikancha as the enemy too. To Shiks, the nikancha are merely rebellious slaves. Their taking of Shiksan territory and founding their own independent nation there is a mark of humiliation for Shiks. So, I believe they'll leave us be first while they wipe the nikancha nation out to teach their slaves their place. Their priority will be to reclaim their inland colonies."

Claude turned back to Birkin. "If you conquer the northern mountainous coasts and form a defence line here, the Shiksans can ignore it completely. They can cross through the mountains in the east. As long as they conquer the nikancha nation and reclaim their lost territory, they can use another route to invade our colonies."

Chapter 431 - Claude's Countermeasures

Birkin was like a deflated balloon. He slumped into his couch, knowing well that Claude was fully in the right. Taking the northern mountainous coasts to form a defence line and stationing Monolith there had a huge weakness, which happened not to be the difficulty to send support and supplies from the rear. Even if the nikancha attacked their supply route, there were methods that could be used to rectify that.

The most glaring weakness of that plan was the possibility of the Shiksans simply not choosing to invade through the northern mountainous coasts. That would mean that all their preparations, and sacrificing of the nikancha's friendship, would've been useless. Shiksans weren't wild bulls that charged straight without any regard. They would no doubt pick a path of attack that would be most beneficial to them and wouldn't bother bashing their heads against a well-armed defence line. No officer would be foolish enough to send their soldiers to pointless deaths.

If the Shiksans chose to invade through the eastern mountain area, then the troops stationed at the northern mountainous coasts would be put in an awkward predicament. They couldn't retreat, because they would allow the Shiksans to capture undefended territory and continue their way south. That way, the construction of the northern mountainous coasts would've been pointless. The money and manpower spent would all be for naught.

However, there wasn't a need to defend the area either since the Shiksans wouldn't really be attacking them there. The troops stationed to defend the captured northern mountainous coasts would simply have no choice but to watch the Shiksans pick another path for the invasion. The theatre's generals didn't doubt that the paltry forces of the nikancha wouldn't be able to stop the Shiksan advance.

When the nikancha nation was wiped out, the survivors would be taken as captives. If the troops stationed at the supposed defence line at the northern mountainous coasts hadn't yet retreated, the Shiksans could surround them from the rear and cut them off from their supplies, putting them under encirclement. They wouldn't have to waste any ammunition or lives to get the defenders to surrender after a time.

The only way that would work was after capturing the northern mountainous coasts, they launched another attack on the eastern border mountains. That way, they would be able to construct a strong defence line on both sides so the Shiksans wouldn't have anywhere to attack, yet, that was simply unachievable. Putting aside whether the nikancha would stab them in the back after being attacked, the theatre wouldn't be able to mobilise that many troops to defend the two mountainous areas.

According to Birkin's plan, he would first take the northern mountainous coasts to build a defence line there and station Monolith there to fight the ten Shiksan corps back with their new rifles. That only left the colonies defended by the 18 garrison lines and Thundercrash, which could provide support thanks to its mobility.

But if they had to defend the eastern border mountains as well, they would have to station Thundercrash there. That way, the colony would no longer have a mobile main force that could supplement the rest. If by then, the Shiksans mounted another attack on the three port cities with Seaking and the Alliance's navy, the port cities that were defended only by one or two garrison lines would fall sooner or later. It would be far too late by then.

"Actually, I think there's no need for us to be that nervous about this. It's impossible for the Shiksans to launch an attack in the coming year or two," Claude said after he saw the map and returned to his seat, pouring some red tea for himself.

Eiblont rapped on the table with his fingers and said, "Claude, speak quickly if you have something to say. Don't put up airs. Shiks has ten standing corps of 600 thousand soldiers. You have to give us a reason if you want us to remain calm under such circumstances."

Claude smiled and countered with a question. "Can you tell me how many corps can Seaking and the Alliance's navy escort to Cape Loducus at a time?"

It was a simple question, but the other generals found it weird and didn't know why Claude would ask that. After they looked at each other, Skri finally spoke. "Two corps. Before the third colonial war, they sent two corps to Port Vebator. I'm sure we're all aware of that."

"Then, do you remember what happened in the half a year following their transport of the two corps to Port Vebator?" Claude asked again.

Skri's eyes immediately glowed. It seemed he had finally understood what Claude was getting at. "A food crisis! After Shiks sent two corps to Port Vebator, there were four corps in the city and food became a huge problem. They had no choice but to stop Seaking and the Alliance's navy from sending more troops to transport more food there.

"To solve the food crisis in the colony of Vebator, the Shiksans had to capture the nikancha to use them as agricultural slaves and send many of them to the mines as well. That eventually caused the nikancha to rebel. The cruel policies against the nikancha also made it so that the other nations' two voluntary corps had to spread themselves thin, which resulted in an opening you exploited to win the war..."

"Uhh..." Claude looked at him awkwardly. "I didn't ask you to bring up my achievements. I only asked a simple question. Basically, with all the ships they have, Shiks can only send two corps to Cape Loducus at once, and that isn't including the supplies they'd need to sustain the two corps.

"Usually, merchant vessels only make a voyage between the continents once every six months, and the most Shiks can travel to and fro is three times a year. So, six corps is the most they can send in per year. Seaking and the Alliance's navy also need time to rest. They can't be at sea for years on end. Even if the crew can take it, the ships can't.

"Even if Shiks manages to come to a deal to lease the colony of Cape Loducus and start sending their troops over next year, they'll need two years at the very least to complete the transportation. Let's not forget about the food as well. How much food would six corps need every month?

"By the time Shiks finishes transporting all ten standing corps to Cape Loducus, how much would it cost to sustain 600 thousand men? Even if Seaking and the Alliance's navy makes three trips per year, they'll only be able to barely supply ten corps' worth of men. To have enough food during wartime, they'll have to resort to other methods.

"Food isn't the only problem. There's also the arms and ammunition they'll need to fight the war. I really suspect Majid III doesn't understand military affairs at all. He wants to deploy ten corps of 600 thousand men to the colonies to swarm our theatre, which is a valid tactic, I'll admit. But he definitely hadn't considered how he could ship the food and ammunition required by that many troops.

"Ten corps of 600 thousand sounds terrifying at first. But if we cut off their supply lines, they'll be reduced to 600 thousand captives waiting to be sent to the labour camps. There's no need for us to feel any pressure from their numbers. We just have to hold them at bay for two to three years and the ten corps will become a heavy burden on Shiks. They'll be crushed under their own weight and Majid III will definitely come to regret his bold threats."

The atmosphere in the meeting room suddenly turned cheerful. They had been too focused on the news that Shiks would be sending ten corps over to continue the colonial wars. The 600 thousand number became a huge mountain that intimidated all of them. Even Bolonik felt that the theatre was in for a really difficult time, because no matter how he ran his calculations, he couldn't find a winning solution for the theatre against overwhelming enemies.

"Why did I forget that 600 thousand men would require vast amounts of supplies too..." Bolonik slapped his forehead and laughed. "Claude, I feel so much more relaxed now after hearing your analysis. I haven't been able to sleep a wink over the past two nights since receiving these reports. The mere thought of ten corps feels like a mountain weighing down on me. I forgot the Lord Militant's teachings and committed a mistake I shouldn't have."

Eiblont said after some deep thought, "No matter how much of a fool Majid III is, Shiks definitely has some qualified commanders, right? How else would he be able to quell the noble rebellion that quickly? Those commanders are surely aware that 600 thousand men would require an astronomical amount of resources. Perhaps they really do have a way to solve that. Maybe they can gather those supplies locally in the colony or get them from the colonies of other nations nearby."

"If Shiks is leasing only Cape Loducus, they won't be able to gather enough supplies for 600 thousand men locally. Cape Loducus is the smallest colony Fochs has on Nubissia and their population is less than two million. While it's well known for having beautiful views, it's merely a place for officials and nobles to rest and relax. More than half of the colony has its natural landscape maintained. There are few farmsteads and pastures. The sole city in Cape Loducus supports itself with its fishing industry."

Claude briefed them on the colony based on the information in his hands. "It's simple. Given the current state of Cape Loducus, there's no way they'll be able to sustain even one corps, let alone ten. Since Shiks only leased that colony, it means they're only going to be there as guests. They won't be allowed to reshape the colony as the right of governance still lies in the local Fochsian officials.

"If I were someone in the Shiksan military, I would suggest Majid III buy the colony immediately since Fochs is willing to sell it as well. To ensure that ten corps can be sustained, they'll have to have full control of Cape Loducus. Before the corps arrive, they'll have to fell forests to cultivate farmland. In two to three years, they'll have lots of food.

"However, Majid III will definitely not do that. He's only leasing Cape Loducus for his troops to gather and to wipe out the nikancha nation before resuming hostilities with us. After losing the three previous wars so badly to the point of losing Vebator entirely to us letting the nikancha found their own nation which continues to attack their inland colonies to this day, Shiks has become a huge laughing stock among all nations that have their own colonies. Majid III can definitely not bear that kind of humiliation.

"If he can't plant and stock food in Cape Loducus and given how much of a waste of time and manpower it will be to transport food overseas, Shiks' only choice will be to buy supplies from other colonies. As long as our theatre send out people to keep an eye on the food markets, we'll be able to tell when Shiks is going to launch their attack when food prices spike. We can even stock food up in advance and sell them for a high price to make Shiks pay even more for it.

"Naturally, it won't be easy for them to be able to buy enough for all 600 thousand. The colonies on the western coast are developed like our theatre. Others only pay attention to extracting mineable resources like Shiks, so they need to purchase food from other colonies too. Shiks' food purchase will definitely make the western coast's food prices rise. So, the best way to save costs would be to fuel the war effort through war itself.

"That's why I'm certain after Shiks transports the ten standing corps to the colonies, perhaps even before they gather all their troops, Majid III would order for his men to strike the nikancha nation first. The longer their nation stands, the longer the stain of humiliation will stick on Shiks. Only by completely eradicating the nikancha nation and harshly punishing those 'rebellious slaves' with enslavement and massacre can they wash their shame away."

Claude looked at the four generals in the room. "That's the conclusion I came to based on what information we have. I believe Shiks' first target isn't our theatre at all. They'll exterminate the nikancha nation first to get their men to familiarise themselves with battle and build up their combat might. They'll also gain a huge labour pool to fulfill their manpower requirements. Perhaps they can even sell them to the mining companies. Most importantly, they'll gain access to the nikancha food stores to achieve their main objective of being able to continue the war.

"What we need to do is to get the nikancha to understand what kind of fate awaits them and let them seek us out on their own initiative for our support and aid against the Shiksans. However, due to their tragic stubbornness, we can't just go straight to them and tell them about the incoming attack of the ten Shiksan standing corps. They'll suspect us for trying to trick and harm them.

"All we can do is to guide them to realise this fact themselves. What we need is to hide this fact. Even if the nikancha come to ask us about the veracity of the rumours, we must tell them that Shiks is coming for our theatre, not them. Only then will they realise how serious the situation is and pay attention to the forces gathering in Cape Loducus.

"The more Shiksan troops that gather, the more necessary it becomes for them to ask for our help. Only when they're facing the threat of being eliminated will they be willing to follow our commands and resist the Shiksan invasion. We can send our men to help them set up defence lines, conduct scorched-earth tactics on strategic locations and lead the Shiksans into the deep mountain wilderness. Perhaps the deep mountains in nikancha territory will be the perfect place for us to wipe our enemies out.

"At the same time, we can also gift the light-infantry cannons we got from the Shiksan corps to the nikancha. Didn't they want cannons and training from us to use them? I think the theatre should assent to that request. The Shiksan cannons aren't seeing any use with us anyway. We might as well trade them to the nikancha for gold and silver. If they lose, the gold and silver will fall into Shiksan hands, so it's better to just take it to improve our theatre's economy."

Chapter 432 - Operation Leak

"Is that him?" Claude asked as he looked down from the second floor of the headquarters building. He was pointing at a middle-aged nikancha man. He seemed to be in his forties and was slightly chubby, especially in the face, which made him look particularly harmless and missable. Nothing about him was particularly noteworthy.

"Yes, General," the new head of the intelligence department, Colonel Fodres, replied. The last department head, Colonel Kefist, was quite unfortunate. During the magi assassination incident, he wanted to curry favour with the field marshal, General Aljess, and remained really close to him. He was among the first officers to be killed.

Claude had wanted to let Borkal take over the department since his lieutenant-colonel rank would just barely qualify him for it. However, Borkal refused the appointment. He preferred to work on the field with different identities. Becoming the department head did give him a nice position and status, but he didn't want to stay in his office all day long processing information reports. So, he didn't hold back and told Claude he much preferred working as a shareholder of the wild-bull company. He found the days of doing business and counting money to be rather pleasant.

Colonel Fodres used to be Bolonik's aide, who used to serve in Monolith as head of its intelligence and communications department. After Kefist's untimely death, Bolonik decided to promote him to be the acting head of the war theatre's intelligence department in headquarters. Currently, he was being briefed on his mission to leak top-secret information to the nikancha.

Fodres nodded and pointed at the nikancha standing next to the stables. "He's called Chanionio, aged 43, and is someone from one of the six largest tribes in the nikancha nation, Chabak. He's one of the few nikancha that can read Hebrai script. It's said that he used to stay with his mother, who was a live-in servant of a teacher from the kingdom. As the teacher taught his own two children, he didn't mind letting Chanionio tag along. When he grew up, he was hired for a decent salary due to his ability to read.

"Even though he looks trustworthy and honest, he's actually like all the other nikancha. He's just as cunning and opportunistic as they come. Every time he's hired, he'll work obediently for a period of time before showing his true colours. Eventually, he was discovered stealing from his employers and punished for that. In time, he gained ill repute in Port Vebator and people weren't willing to hire him any longer, so all he could do to make ends meet was write letters for others and be a guide at the docks.

"During the third colonial war, he was captured and enslaved by the Shiksans. He was appointed a small-time supervisor of a farmer labour camp for his skills in reading and arithmetic. During his time in the job, he got acquainted with Chabak's elders and chief and helped them a lot during the revolts. During the founding of the nikancha nation, he was appointed by the council of elders to be a chief secretary of logistics. He is the one secretly conducting the arms deal."

"So he's the person in charge of the merchant convoy? That can't be right. He looks no different from a normal stableman..." Claude looked at the nikancha man and couldn't see anything that marked him to be a merchant convoy supervisor, whether it be his getup or behaviour. He was what everyone thought a stableman would look like.

"It's true, General. We are not sure why he wants to hide behind his convoy," Fodres said, "During the first time this convoy came to headquarters to trade for ammunition, they seemed rather interested in our standard-issue gear, such as our water bottles, powder horns, and waterproof slow matches. They said they hoped they could mimic our force and form a standardised, modern military.

"After a request was made to the logistics department, approval to sell those items was granted. However, their supervisor said they had to think it over because of the price we were offering them for. Perhaps they could only decide after sending someone to ask the person in charge for a concrete decision. That alerted the officers of the logistics department and they reported the matter to us. Through covert observation, we found that this middle-aged nikancha man dressed like a stableman was the one making the decisions. We began investigating this and Colonel Borkal was the one who uncovered every detail about this Chanionio in the nikancha nation."

"Are you sure Chanionio is the one we need?" Claude asked.

"Yes, General. Chanionio always comes with the merchant convoy to Lanu and would collect the newspapers distributed in our colony to send them back. He has a lover who works as a maid in Lanu that collects the papers for him. We suspect that he secretly spies on our war theatre. Perhaps the nikancha nation is just as wary about an attack from us."

Claude nodded. "Alright. Then we'll start the operation immediately. It's about time I got on stage."

Soon, Claude took his aide, Lieutenant-Colonel Anders, as well as Gum and his guard unit downstairs. He headed towards the stable and every officer that ran into him saluted him.

"Old Pieck, what in the world is wrong with my Black Lightning?" Claude yelled towards the stable.

An old man wearing an old uniform without any shoulder decorations squirmed out of the small building. Those who know Pieck would know that he was the most competent veterinarian across the whole war theatre. While he didn't look like a proper soldier, the five generals of the war theatre would sometimes ask him to come along for drinks and chats.

Pieck rolled his eyes at Claude. "What's it with all the yelling? It's all your fault for going all over the place with your horse but not caring for it. You just let it graze anywhere it pleases, don't you? It must've eaten some windbell grass, which looks deceivingly similar to horseshrub grass, save for the two additional leaves and its purple buds. It's a horse, you know, it can't tell the difference between the two. It must've eaten enough to cause digestive problems. Now, it can't even gallop properly."

"It'll be fine, won't it?" Claude asked worriedly.

The old man proudly proclaimed, "Who do you think I am? With me caring for it, it will be fine. However, it needs a few days' rest. I need to make sure it gets the nutrients it needs to soothe its weak stomach. It should be fine in four to five days."

"Oh, I thought it was fine apart from defecating a little more than usual. I wanted to take it along immediately. You know Black Lightning is my favourite mount. It almost seems to know where I want to go with only the slightest motion..." Claude said in a defeated tone.

"Forget it. You can't take it along in that state! It's been pushed too far this time, and it would've ended up crippled for good if you rode it any longer! It wouldn't be able to serve as a war horse again if that had happened!"

"Whatever..." Claude seemed a little guilty after being chewed out by Pieck. Turning to Anders, he said, "Anders, go to Weyblon Manor and get my horse, Greenflower, here. I'll be riding it for the next few days. Tell Kefnie that I'll be checking on the troops' training for the next few days, so I won't be going home. By the way, have her pack some change of clothes and a sleeping robe for me, and go to my study to bring me the book titled 'Battles of Welink'. I was halfway through it. Also, I'll need a few bottles of wine too."

"Yes, General," Anders said, before he looked troubledly at the two items in his hands. He held a black, leather document briefcase in his left and a scroll in the other. The grey leather cover of the scroll was marked with 'top secret'.

Claude stretched his hand out. "Give me that scroll. You can't take those out. Just head to my home without them. I'll put the scroll in my carriage later."

Anders handed the top-secret scroll to Claude before saluting and leaving through the main gates of headquarters with his own horse.

Claude turned to Gum. "Gum, instruct the guard tent to get ready for departure. Stop the carriage outside the entrance and wait for me."

"Understood, General," Gum said before he left.

"Take me to Black Lightning," Claude said to Pieck, "I'll be away surveying for a few days and I'll find it hard to get used to its absence. The other horses really aren't attuned to me. Greenflower always has a temper when we're making long trips. It's so much trouble..."

Pieck shook his head. "I've seen Greenflower myself before. It's a good horse, but it was spoiled by a noble stableman, which resulted in its short temperament, making it unfit to be a war horse. It can only run fast on the race track. You really shouldn't give it so much trouble, General. It's a gift from someone else, after all.

"Come, Black Lightning's over there. It's not a racehorse, but it makes a good war horse due to how well it can read its rider. Also, bring me the sack of dried wheat next to the pillar of the stable there. I'll go get some eggs. It's feeding time, so you can use it to get better acquainted with Black Lightning. I'm sure it'll miss you when you're away, hahaha..."

Pieck went to the building next to the stable for some eggs and Claude went to fetch the sack of wheat hanging on the pillar. As the sack was a little heavy, he couldn't lift it with only one hand, so he put down the top-secret scroll into an empty manger and hauled the sack with both hands down from the pillar. Pieck came out with five eggs and called Claude to come to him.

Chanionio managed to witness the whole thing from the other side of the stable. He eyed the scroll in the manger and turned to look at Claude and Pieck feed the brilliant-looking, black war horse. The stable was for the generals' mounts.

Not long after, a guard hurriedly ran to Claude and reported, "General, the carriage is ready. You may depart now."

Chanionio watched as Claude bid Pieck goodbye and turned to head towards the main entrance. Soon, a carriage came driving over, escorted by a tent of guards.

He forgot the top-secret scroll... Chanionio thought anxiously. He recognised Lieutenant-General Claude and had heard of his many legendary achievements. There were many who called him the second-in-command to Lord Militant Miselk. It was even said that he was more aggressive than Miselk himself. Since his joining the military, he had never lost an attack he participated in.

However, that very general had just committed a grave mistake. Perhaps he was used to travelling empty handed, since his aides and guards would always be there to help him. He would never have to carry any documents or briefcases himself. Now that he had sent his aide away and left the top-secret scroll the aide left with him nearby when he busied himself with his horse, he forgot about the scroll completely and hurriedly left on his way once the guard came to announce the carriage's arrival.

It was all too common. Chanionio noticed that his employers often did similar things. Once things got rushed and complicated, they would forget where they placed their things. Chanionio managed to earn quite a bit due to that very trait of his employers. It was a shame that they often recalled what they lost sooner or later and would always end up doubting him. Oftentimes, he would be captured red handed and punished with the evidence in tow before he had a chance to deal with what he had stolen.

This time, he hoped that the general would forget the matter for as long as possible. He stood up and approached the empty manger. There was a large pile of grass feed next to it. Chanionio picked up an empty rattan basket, looked around to make sure nobody was watching him, and slipped the scroll into the basket before filling it with grass. He then took the basket to feed his convoy's donkeys.

Chanionio made four trips as a normal stableman would. The other three stablemen of the convoy also started to feed the rest of the donkeys as usual. After that, Chanionio took his large donkey to the main entrance and headed for the south of the city. The guard recognised him and greeted him. The guards there knew that the nikancha stableman had a nikancha lover working in the city as a maid. Every time the convoy came, Chanionio would be seen heading downtown to look for her.

He only returned to the courtyard of headquarters in the evening, seeming a little flushed from alcohol. There was a large stack of newspapers on the back of his donkey dating back a few months. His actions were no different from that of other merchant convoys'. The guards knew that this nikancha stableman could read and liked newspapers to a fault. His maid lover often compiled them for him.

Chanionio's explanation was that he loved the gossip columns and the chivalric novel serials published in the newspapers. He would earn lots of respect after telling those stories to his fellow countrymen in the taverns and could earn a free drink or two. Chanionio seemed rather calm, perhaps noticing that nothing in headquarters was amiss.

The evening was the other time they fed the donkeys. Chanionio and the other three stablemen worked for quite a while before finishing the round of feeding and went to the mess hall in the headquarters for food. As the convoy dealing with ammunition between the nikancha nation and the war theatre, they enjoyed free meals at war theatre headquarters.

After an hour or so, a carriage escorted by a tent of guards returned in a hurry and stopped at the entrance. Claude charged in with his aide and dismounted guards. The nikancha and soldiers in the courtyard looked at them in surprise, wondering what was going on.

"It should be here. I recall that you, Anders, handed me the top-secret document. But somehow, I forgot about it when I boarded the carriage. I can't seem to recall when I let go of it," Claude said with a sullen look.

Pieck came over and asked what was going on. After hearing Claude's explanation, he scratched his balding head. "General, I recall that you weren't holding anything when we fed Black Lightning."

Claude slapped his forehead. "I remember now. When you had me take the sack of wheat over, I left the scroll in the empty manger."

He ran to the manger and found the wrapped scroll there. Breathing a sigh of relief, he said, "It's fine. It's right here. I was worried for nothing. Let's go back to Weyblon Manor for the night. We'll start our survey tomorrow instead."

Claude left like the wind. Nobody noticed Chanionio's relieved breath.

......

"Did you check it?" Claude asked.

"Yes, we did, General. The secret document has indeed been tampered by Chanionio. The wrapping is slightly different and the two most crucial newspapers pages the western coast of all seventeen are missing. They're all related to the Shiksan lease of Cape Loducus and projections of the upcoming war. The report I drafted with an analysis of how the situation will develop also shows signs of being traced. I'm sure somebody copied it," Fodres said with certainty.

Claude nodded. "Then, we'll just have to wait patiently. The nikancha should be coming to us for help after receiving the news. We can't do anything that'll make them suspicious for now. There's no need for us to take the initiative to offer them help either. Just keep them in the dark about this and deny any rumours and news about Shiks."

"We understand, General. Rest assured."

Chapter 433 - Opinion

Waiting was truly a torturous process. Those in the know had to keep the matter a secret and couldn't let even a single word of it out. The wait would have to last a long few months undoubtedly.

Claude blamed it all on the bad flow of information. Having come from a world where everyone and everywhere was connected through the internet, any bit of news could spread to the far corners of the world in a matter of hours, even minutes. However, everything happened really slowly in the world of Faslan.

On Nubissia's western continent alone, information took around a month or two to travel between the colonies there. As for matters happening in Freia, it usually took half a year for information to go through.

Time passed in a flash and it was now the end of the year, Borkal had rushed back to headquarters. He had travelled through three colonies at the western coast and confirmed that the lease of Cape Loducus to Shiks was in fact true. After some four months of negotiation, Shiks settled on paying five million gold keptons to Fochs for a five-year lease on their colony.

Two gold keptons could be traded for a gold crown, so five million of them equated to 2.5 million crowns. In other words, the colony would be leased for 500 thousand crowns each year.

Shiks was being rather haphazard with their spending. The descendants of the Krim pirates of Fochs were laughing so badly from the lopsided deal that their teeth were falling out. The way they saw it, the Shiksan king was a complete fool. Cape Loducus was only valued for its fishing industry and nothing else. Some rather rare fish breeds were produced there and they sold for high prices in Freia as delicacies to be served in noble banquets.

Even then, the revenue of the fish produced didn't exceed 100 thousand crowns per year. The colony also had a population lower than two million, so the taxes they brought to Fochs amounted to less than ten thousand crowns. That was why Fochs was already ready to sell the colony away to Shiks. However, Shiks couldn't afford the astronomical price they offered and they settled on a lease instead.

"This is the news brought by one of the flotillas of the Fochsian fleet when they arrived at the western coast at the end of the 10th month. There was a Shiksan trading fleet to purchase the food they would need over the next two years. They have already paid the downpayment of 100 thousand gold keptons. So far, a few other colonies have started considering planting food on a large scale as estimates show that food prices at the western coast will double in the coming years.

"I talked to someone from the Shiksan fleet called Solum and he kept grilling me about information about the theatre. I glossed over our military affairs and told him that I don't pay much attention to those and only care about business. However, he seemed quite interested in purchasing large amounts of wheat ale in our theatre and gave me an order for 30 thousand barrels and a thousand gold keptons as the initial payment.

"From that encounter, I realised that there should be a large number of Shiksan informants or spies in our colonies. Solum seemed somewhat aware of what's happening in headquarters, such as the formation of our eight garrison lines, recruiting 100 thousand soldiers, selling 300 thousand Shiksan muskets to the nikancha nation and so on. Normal folk shouldn't be aware of such dealings. There definitely is a spy somewhere.

"When I told him the wild-bull company owns breweries and has to purchase large amounts of wheat to brew our ale, he requested me to supply him with a thousand pushirs of wheat for three times the market price. I suspect he's merely trying to test whether I'm an actual smuggler or not. The theatre has a tight grasp on food, but the wild-bull company can purchase wheat without much suspicion due to its brewing activities. Selling wheat at three times the market price would be enough for any smuggler to bet their life on."

Pushirs were Shiksan units equivalent to a tonne, which was a thousand catties.

Borkal continued, "However, I can tell from his request that even after pre-purchasing food from the colonies of other nations, Shiks isn't making great progress with their current food stores. It's likely that the other colonies are trying to maintain local supply for food in their own territories to ensure the stability of food prices, hence their refusal to sell food in large bulks. That was why Solum has no choice but to buy food from me for three times the market price.

"There's also something else I haven't confirmed yet. I got to hear about it when the soldiers of the Fochsian fleet blurted it out while drinking. Thanks to the high rent Shiks paid, Fochs would have two of their fleets ferry troops or supplies from Freia as per the lease agreement. As the trips would be made for free, the soldiers complained about it. I can't be sure whether it's true or not. The soldiers seemed rather drunk.

"Lastly, I have news from the kingdom's mainland. The situation is still undecided. It's said that Prince Wedrick has now transferred Kafreizit, Lasdonkrun, Botarnia and Woodisia back to Nasri and obtained a million-crown payment as well as a four-million-crown high-interest loan. Griffon has given up on holding Audin Mountain Range and transferred to the three southwestern prefectures. They are now attacking Whitestag where Prince Hansbach is. We didn't get any word on how the battle is progressing, though."

That was all the information Borkal collected on the western coast. He proved that Shiks was definitely intent on continuing the colonial wars. The lease of Cape Loducus to gather their troops was confirmed. After new year's eve, the theatre would once more come under threat of war. The results of the war would decide its survival.

The atmosphere in the meeting room was rather grim. Now that war was all but certain, every high-ranking officer qualified enough to sit in the meeting felt a sense of pressure. 'Before the storm comes the wind'. That was a saying from Claude's past life he recalled. It seemed that it perfectly described their current situation.

Claude wanted to clear his throat and say a word or two to cheer them up, only to see Bolonik crack a forced smile and said, "Colonel Borkal, you did well. With your reports, we can start preparing for the war effort. I believe we'll be the final victors of this conflict. My reasoning is simple: the Shiksans have always been our inferiors in war, and this time will be no exception!"

"General Bolonik is right. The Shiksans have never been our match," Eiblont said as he thumped on the table lightly with both fists. "Even though they're trying to gather ten corps of 600 thousand men, they're merely a rowdy, untrained bunch. We are superior in terms of training, experience and weaponry. Perhaps this war will add another page to our legendary exploits. The ten standing corps of Shiks will be a stepping stone on our path to legend."

Birkin clapped his hands and attracted the attention of many other officers. "Actually, the upcoming war isn't that terrifying. I'm sure that you all have seen the analysis General Claude had written about the lease. Colonel Borkal's reports also proved General Claude's foresight to be correct. There is no way Shiks can send all ten corps to Cape Loducus as their food supply will be a huge problem.

"Even if Shiks sent a trading fleet to order food and they start production locally next year and amass a sizable stockpile, the moment they launch an attack, we can carry out scorched earth in the nikancha lands and lure the enemy deeper inland. We'll play hide-and-seek with them in the mountains and delay their progress while draining their food supply. Eventually, we can surround them from all four directions and cut off their supply line. After that, they'll have no choice but to surrender to us."

Skri also said, "This time around, we hope to keep all 600 thousand Shiksan troops outside the colonies to prevent the flames of war from spreading here and negatively affecting our economic development and civilian livelihood. That's why we have set the battlegrounds to be within the mountainous terrain in nikancha territory. We'll use the mountains and woods to lead the Shiksans around and hold them there. If we're unable to completely eradicate them, we'll have to target their limited supplies and trap the enemies in the mountains.

"All units in the two corps or the garrison lines, begin mountain-combat training next year. Headquarters has already drafted some training routines and all units are to follow the schedule closely and train, no delays or cutting the training short. There will be evaluators sent to inspect the status of the training sessions. Anyone that doesn't meet the target standards, officer or soldier alike, might face dishonourable discharge.

"Please don't forget that our survival depends on the upcoming war effort. Everyone must give their best effort. Remember General Claude's slogan: each drop of sweat shed during training is a drop of blood fewer shed in battle. Follow the guidelines strictly and meet the targets. Anyone that doesn't make the cut might be discharged regardless of prior accomplishments, because we cannot tolerate having any soldier in service drag their units down because of their own incompetence!"

Skri finally finished his long speech. Now, everyone turned to Claude, who was the only one of the big five who had yet to speak.

Claude's expression stiffened as he wondered what in the world he should say. The other four had used up all the talking points. There were those that calmed the soldiers and relieved them of their worries, those that raised their morale, those that described their tactics and those that warned them not to slack off on training. What else could he possibly say?

"Ahem..." He cleared his throat and leaned into his coach, giving off a relaxed impression. Then, he said with a calm pace, "The Shiksans are finally here. As a soldier, I'm really happy because we have a clear enemy once more. If I'm frank, I've been doubting if I'm even soldier in the past two years. Even though I'm the kingdom's lieutenant-general, why am I busied with nothing but boring management and paperwork?

"I was either dealing with settling the migrants, planning the development of towns and roads, or chasing the nikancha to get on the boats and sail towards their nation instead of staying in our colonies and causing us trouble. I often find myself wondering if I should even put this uniform on. I mean, I did rather well for a bureaucrat if I may say so myself. Had it not been for the training surveys I had to conduct with the new recruits of Thundercrash, I would've forgotten that I'm a soldier long ago.

"Now, I'm really thankful for the Shiksans, Majid III in particular. He has never disappointed us and insisted on sending his kingdom's youths to our colonies to be free labourers and help out with our development. We only have to pay for their food and necessities. In fact, they're truly far too generous. He even ships the food we need to feed their youths with all the way from Freia.

"All I can see now are 600 thousand Shiksan labourers coming our way. All we need to do is make them put their weapons down and obediently march into our labour camps. I believe that our colonies will develop staggeringly quickly with so much free manpower. There's only one thing we need to remember. Before we get them to put down their weapons, we must make sure they understand that making an enemy out of us will be the greatest tragedy to befall them!

"We're going to fight in nikancha mountainous terrain. We'll make the Shiksans remember that leasing Cape Loducus to gather their troops was a mistake. They chose the wrong place to fight the wrong war. I'm sure I don't need to talk about how this war ends. The results are already set. The misguided greed the Shiksans have towards our colonies will become their greatest pain and regret.

"I already have plans to cooperate with the nikancha nation. I believe they'll come to us begging for help in another two or three months. Actually, I won't mind even if they don't ask for our help. There's no way they'll be able to fight the Shiksans off. As they're losing their cities and towns one after another, we can even launch surprise attacks on the territories they lost. That will save us lots of trouble and the territories we take will belong to us from then on.

"The Shiksans are no different from a snowfield mammoth. They're absolutely massive. We might be in some trouble if they gather their troops on the wide plains, since our numbers obviously can't match up to theirs. But in mountainous terrain, mammoths can't defeat monkeys. The terrain will severely limit what they can do and they can only fight at a little more than half their usual capabilities at best. The training General Skri referred to is what we're going to use to turn into monkeys in the mountain. We'll make the terrain our helpers.

"After saying all that, my point is still that we're really lucky. We finally have another chance to earn some merit. As soldiers, not having wars to fight is a paradox of luck and misfortune. We're lucky because we don't have to risk ourselves on the battlefield, but misfortunate because we'll never be able to prove ourselves as real soldiers. Now that the Shiksans have brought war to us once more, there's only one thing to do: eliminate them!"

The moment he finished, thunderous applause broke out in the meeting room.

Chapter 434 - Here Come the Nikancha Ambassadors

"What I want is to install this looking glass onto the new rifle to use it to aim. We can inscribe a cross on the lens. When the sniper uses the gun, he can line the centre of the cross up with his target and fire to shoot a target three to four hundred metres away. This isn't going to be a standard-issue rifle. It's a sniper rifle. Pick the best sharpshooters among the troops and train them to use these sniper rifles to shoot enemy commanders on the battlefield to sow chaos in enemy ranks."

Claude wiped some sweat off his forehead. He regretted learning how to code computer applications in his past life instead of picking up some kind of engineering or chemical profession. With the new rifles and a telescope, Claude wanted to see whether it would be possible to put the two together to make a sniper rifle. However, he couldn't really describe what made a sniper rifle special to Angelina and Sonia. They only managed to gain some mutual understanding after much difficulty communicating their thoughts.

"Just tell us you want to increase the accurate firing range of the new rifles to around 400 metres while making sure the shot still has power then. Perhaps we can increase the length of the cartridges so more gunpowder can be stored. At the end of the day, you're trying to say that the naked eye can't aim too far away, so you need a telescope to help with the aiming, right?" Sonia complained. "Is there anything else we need to pay attention to?"

Claude smiled apologetically. "Perhaps you can try making the barrel longer and making new cartridges for this express purpose to ensure it's just as powerful shooting further. Also, you can try changing the rifling inside the barrel into a spiral pattern to see if you can increase the stability and range of the projectile. That's all I can think of for now. You'll mainly have to count on your experiments.

"Time's a little short, dear, so I'm sorry to have to rush you like this. We don't have a choice and the Shiksans are coming at us with full force. They plan to storm the whole theatre and this will be a trial for our survival. We have to think of ways to increase our chances. In the mountains, one good sniper is as good as, or even better, than a cannon. They're definitely far more threatening. A few hidden snipers will definitely be nothing short of the god of death paying the enemies personal visits."

While Claude sounded relaxed during the meeting with the other officers and made them think their enemies could easily be blasted away, he knew that this wouldn't be an easy fight. Apart from spending new year's eve with his family at home, he used all of his time in a work frenzy.

The most crucial thing was to move Angelina's lab from the farmstead to the arms factory in Vebator. Sonia was now the supervisor of the factory and busy with the new production lines for the rifles. The factory needed to establish two new production lines, hire up to three thousand new employees, and so on. Sonia was far too busy and couldn't afford to travel to and fro, let alone stay in the lab to work on her experiments.

The experimentation of the new rifle, however, couldn't happen without Sonia's experience and guidance to Angelina. So, Claude decided to move her lab to the arms factory. Myjack would be helping with the defence of the factory with Tribe 131 anyways, so the couple could stay together. After all, their mother had complained about Angelina not giving her a grandchild despite being married for years.

Apart from the manufacture of new rifles, new breakthroughs for a new weapon took place in the factory. They now had mines. Angelina and Sonia took only three to four days to complete them. There were two varieties of mines, one pressure activated, which could be buried into the ground, waiting to be stepped on, and the other line activated. Basically, it was a line-trap mine. Once someone catches their leg on the line, the mine would blow up.

Claude had wanted to research water mines and bouncing mines. The former could cause quite a lot of trouble for the enemy fleets as they're deploying their soldiers onshore. However, Claude couldn't figure out how those metal-encased mines could float on the water, nor was he aware of the mechanism that caused them to explode. Bouncing mines were one of the most powerful anti-personnel mines. Claude had read in forums that they would shoot up into the air upon being triggered before exploding and sending the ball bearings inside in a 30-metre radius and causing great damage. But he didn't know how they were made. Even with Angelina's array, he didn't know where to start.

The third new weapon they made was the sniper rifle. With the new rifles as a base, Claude believed sniper rifles could be easily made. It wasn't like he needed modern sniper rifles that could shoot accurately up to a kilometre in the first place. All he wanted was a rifle that could shoot up to 400 metres accurately. He trusted that Sonia and his sister wouldn't disappoint him and be able to make it in a short time.

Claude was going to form a sniping clan in Thundercrash for his brother to command. It would be considered a special unit in these times. When the conditions were right, he wanted to pick some elite soldiers to form a proper special unit for assassination or infiltration missions. Perhaps in the decades or centuries to come, he would be crowned the father of special operations units or something.

It was now the 3rd month of Year 593. Once the 4th month came, Shiks' standing corps would arrive in Cape Loducus, though they didn't know how many. The theatre's informants sent a few eagle messages reporting that the Shiksan advance party had arrived at Cape Loducus and started hiring people to build camps and warehouses.

It was said that the Fochsian people and officials had an unspoken agreement to triple food costs and manpower costs. Even the informants sent there had no choice but to work for Shiks on their construction projects to earn enough to survive. They complained in their eagle messages that their small salary couldn't even get them enough beef to feed their eagles.

Those informants were sent by the wild-bull company to Cape Loducus with the excuse of starting a branch of the company there to negotiate the deal of the 30 thousand barrels of low-alcohol wheat-ale. The informants mentioned that the citizens of the colony had fixed rations of sufficient necessities to survive, so they weren't affected by the price hike. The rest of the foreigners were all dragged down by Shiks and had no choice but to buy food at the increased price.

They now regretted selling the ale they imported for too low a price. The Shiksans were drinking them in lieu of water. In the city, plain water cost more than wheat ale and had to be boiled, so the charcoal added to the cost. Fortunately, Shiks made orders for 50 thousand more barrels. After further negotiations, the deal was concluded with a 30 percent increase in price. Perhaps even the Shiksans were shocked by the food prices in the city, so wheat ale naturally became the cheap and delicious option for them.

Apart from complaining about the price hike and ale trade, the informants also offered a suggestion. After the advance party reached Cape Loducus late last year, they started hiring youths to construct their camps and warehouses. So far, the warehouse area was mostly complete and goods were constantly shipped there from the western coast and the other colonies nearby. They were going to stockpile thousands of tonnes of food and other necessities.

The informants had gotten to know some members of the advance party through drinks and heard them complain about the mission Majid III gave them, that was to stockpile food in preparation for the main force's arrival. They had thought it would be an easy task to complete, only to find that the food stores in the local cities were far smaller than they had imagined. The reason behind that was actually rather complicated.

The colonies of the western coast had maintained peace for the past three decades. There were conflicts, but most of them were small skirmishes that were solved after negotiations. There was also no natural disasters plaguing the area, so the food situation in those colonies was rather stable and they only had to produce enough to satisfy domestic demand. Many farm owners preferred to plant products that could be shipped to the various nations of Freia for profit instead.

The advance party Shiks sent was ordered by Majid III to purchase a million pushirs, or tonnes, of food. When they arrived, they discovered that the food stores in all of the colonies on the western coast didn't even have that much combined. So, they had no choice but to order food produced next year in advance for double or triple the market price, which prompted the farm owners to switch their main crop to food crop. They complained about how rough food like potatoes could now sell for the price of flour.

The informants discovered that the advance party already had lots of food and necessities stocked up in the warehouses they just built. So, they suggested that they ought to act first and sneak into the warehouses to set them on fire, showing the Shiks who's boss before the battle even began.

The theatre quickly refused that suggestion. The lease agreement between Shiks and Fochs still hadn't been put into effect and Cape Loducus was still under Fochsian control. A fire would definitely incite an investigation by Fochs. Once the theatre was discovered to have committed the act, they would press the theatre for reparations.

It wasn't that the theatre was afraid of offending Fochs. They simply didn't have a need to add them to their list of troubles. Since civil war broke out in the Aueran mainland, Aueras, once regarded as a powerful nation in Eastern Freia, was now seen as a target to be picked on. Had it not been for the theatre's record of winning all three wars they were in, the other nations would probably have targeted the colonies by now.

If Stellin X was still alive, the civil war wouldn't have broken out, and Fochs wouldn't need to lease their colony to Shiks in the first place. All their nation had was four naval fleets. Their ground forces were complete and utter trash compared to their naval forces. But now, of Aueras' two fleets, Fearless had been eliminated and Storm was now aligned with the traitorous first prince. The Aueran mainland and colonies had no naval defence at all. All they could do was fortify their coasts to guard against threats from the sea.

The lease between Shiks and Fochs would only come into effect following the arrival of the first batch of Shiksan troops. After that, within the next five years, apart from the citizens of the cape city, every other settler in the colony would be under Shiksan rule. Even if the theatre sent units into Cape Loducus and badly defeated the Shiksan troops, the Fochsians would merely cheer from their cities. They took a neutral position in the conflict and refused to participate in the war.

There were many chances in the future to burn the warehouses. Doing so now would only raise enemy awareness further and cause them to increase security, making it more difficult for future surprise attacks.

According to Bolonik, Thundercrash should immediately switch out their weapons for the new rifles produced by the arms factory to increase their combat prowess, but Claude refused to go along with that. He insisted the new rifles should be evenly distributed among both corps. The strongest units in either corps should be given priority. He said that they were going to fight in the mountains defensively, so they had to have good coordination between attacking and defending units.

The two corps would switch their arms out tribe by tribe. The first tribe of Monolith to be assigned new weapons, during their live training, had successfully held off an attack by two lines from their fortifications. Later sandtable simulations show that only the heavy bombardment from a whole folk could cause them to lose their strongholds.

The simulations also firmed the resolve of many officers in headquarters. They would be fighting in the mountains, so they couldn't continue training on flatlands. The enemy wouldn't be able to use flanking or pincer tactics and had to take one stronghold after another to ensure they had a safe path forward.

Claude had Myjack, Moriad, and Berklin deal with the training of various units of the corps while he weaselled into the arms factory to work on new weapons with Sonia and Angelina in an effort to find the next miracle they could use in the upcoming war. Right before research on the sniper rifle was complete, Claude received an urgent letter from headquarters, as marked by the three eagle feathers on it. It said that the nikancha nation had sent a large ambassador band to the theatre to request for aid.

It seemed that the nikancha nation had proof that the Shiksans would be coming to the western coast. They were probably terrified by the 600 thousand troops incoming troops.

As far as the theatre was aware, the nikancha nation didn't have a proper national military. Each of their six major tribes had a force of about ten thousand, and the 20 plus minor tribes had forces numbering from three to five thousand. The tribes bellow even vassals had even smaller units within the hundreds. Those forces referred to only nikancha youths that were trained in preliminary musket use, not those who waved blades about and used bows and arrows.

It was apparent the nikancha nation did not lack clear minds. They were well aware that the forces of their tribes alone wouldn't be enough for them to hold off the Shiksan attacks. They didn't have cannons, and the strongest weapons they had were the Shiksan arms they purchased from the theatre. Even though their arms matched their enemy's, the enemy was well trained and better armed overall, not to mention their large numbers and artillery support. The nikancha forces had only received short-term training and they definitely weren't the Shiksans' match.

So, they placed their hopes in the theatre. They knew that they wouldn't fare well under Shiksan rule. Given their stubborn personality, they would never be willing to serve as Shiksan slaves. The band of ambassadors comprised half of the elders and chiefs of the six major tribes. They hoped to negotiate with the theatre for military aid.

Chapter 435 - Negotiations (1)

What Claude didn't think would happen was how after he spent five days sailing from Port Vebator to a fishing town in Anfiston and rushed to headquarters in Lanu, the negotiations still hadn't concluded. Both sides were in a deadlock.

"What's going on? Didn't we state the requirements of the theatre clearly? What in the world are the nikancha thinking?" Claude thought this matter to be rather weird. The plan had been set and the theatre already had a general outline of their strategic and tactical goals. They only had to wait for the nikancha to come to them and follow the plan before making preparations for the war effort.

Bolonik grimaced and said, "The nikancha want us to provide more advanced firearms. They want to be armed with Aubass Mark 3s, not the inferior Shiksan muskets we obtained as spoils. They also wanted to order cannons and ammunition and be trained on how to use cannons so they can have their own cannoneer units.

"Those were all in our predictions. As long as they were willing to pay, we would agree to their request and even help them form a standardised army so they can resist to a degree. However, they used the excuse of a financial shortage and said they weren't able to pay. They suggested an instalment payment scheme with a ten-year term instead.

"Additionally, they refused our war plans, saying that our plans don't take into account their independence and dignity at all. They said that as war would take place within their territory, the livelihoods of their tribes would be severely affected, so they insisted on keeping the enemy outside of their borders."

"Keeping them outside?" Claude said, taken aback, "Are you sure they're right in the head? How can they even make that kind of demand? They can't be wanting us to send our troops to Cape Loducus to fight the ten Shiksan corps there in a grand battle, right?"

Bolonik shook his head, humoured by the implications Claude voiced. "No, not to that extent. Their heads aren't that far broken. If they had really said that, they couldn't be saved even if we wanted to. We would've given up on all negotiation in that case and watch as their nation gets wiped out.

"Just look at the map and you'll know. The nikancha ambassadors said that they're willing to let us set up a defence line in the area within 15 kilometres of the border between their nation and Cape Loducus, that is to say, a small portion of the eastern and northern mountainous areas. They want our forces to hold the Shiksans off in direct conflict while they provide support from the rear."

"Well aren't they optimistic to even hope that we'll take the bullets for them at the front?" Claude was so taken aback that he even laughed. "Why would they even have the gall to suggest that? Do they think we'll just do what they say? They want to sit back at the rear as we fight the Shiksans in the mountains without paying any cost of their own?"

Bolonik sighed deeply. "You might not know this, but the news the nikancha got from the western coast was the reason Shiks leased Cape Loducus from Fochs to gather their troops was to continue the war with the theatre and finally get back at us for their three prior losses.

"So, the nikancha think that they've been roped into the conflict thanks to us. If their nation wasn't located between our theatre and Cape Loducus, they wouldn't even have to worry about being attacked by the Shiksans. They think their misfortune stems from being sandwiched between the Shiksans and us.

"The ambassadors say that they only chose to work with us because they have a good relationship with us. They are the ones willing to help us against the Shiksans. If we don't agree to their demands, they'll give up on the northern mountainous coasts and make a path for the Shiksans in Cape Loducus to come straight to Vebator."

"Did the ambassadors really say that? Can I take that as a threat against our theatre?" Claude asked with a cold smile. "Where did they get that kind of bravery to spout something so arrogant to us? I had heard that the nikancha are slimy folk, but I haven't really experienced it myself until now. Do they really think we can't fight this war without their cooperation?

"Even though they're the ones facing the crisis of being wiped out, they want to push all the danger to us. They want to watch us fight the Shiksans while they sit and wait for the spoils. I can be certain that if we agree to their demands, we'll have to pay high transport and labour fees for them to help secure our supply line. Otherwise, our arms would all disappear without a trace."

"Actually, Bick and Skri think we're really pressed for time and believe we should negotiate with the ambassadors to reach a compromise. At least, we must make the nikancha send some of their own troops to defend against the Shiksans as well. They should be willing to put up a fight given that their lives are at stake.

"After all, the first batch of Shiksan corps would arrive in Cape Loducus around the 4th month. Our theatre needs to use the time we have left to form a defence line between the eastern and northern mountainous areas in the nikancha nation. It would take at least 20 days to travel there and time is running short."

Bolonik said that with some hesitation. As the general most proficient in defensive manoeuvres, he knew how important a properly fortified defence line was against an enemy attack, and to do it properly required sufficient time.

"Cease negotiations with the nikancha ambassadors. Leave them hanging for three days. We can't let them push us around like that. All they have to do is to follow our original plans and do what we expect of them! Otherwise, let us watch as their nation gets wiped out. When the Shiksans slaughter a river of blood in their nation and enslave their kin, it'll be too late for them to regret.

"Tell them that I will take over negotiations from this day onward. Any agreement they reach with anyone else won't be recognised. If they want our cannons and advanced firearms, as well as our help to modernise their army, all that will have to be paid in gold and silver. No debts are allowed. We are not rich. We already spared much expense to prepare for this upcoming war and we can spare no more to help them for free.

"Let them cool down for the next three days so they don't make any more unreasonable requests when I go to negotiate with them. Only by following our plan can victory against the Shiksans be ensured and their nation remains intact. Our theatre can also promise to respect the sovereignty of their nation. After we defeat the Shiksans and obtain victory, we will not leave our armies in their nation and have every soldier retreat."

"Bick and Skri won't be happy about this," Bolonik helplessly said, though he gave his tacit approval. "I will send my aide to tell them to stop negotiating with the nikancha and refuse all their demands. We'll tell them the negotiations will begin anew in three more days and you'll be calling all the shots."

This was the biggest gesture of support Bolonik could show Claude, of which Claude was all too aware. Having been in the same position of field marshal, Claude understood how tough it must be for Bolonik to serve as acting field marshal. There were many times when his job wasn't to figure out a solution to problems, but rather, to mediate between conflicts of different aspects in the theatre.

Claude was quite happy that he no longer held that position. From the look at how Bolonik's hair had been whitening and balding, it was obvious how tough being a field marshal in these times were. He had to settle the family members of the soldiers, refuse Prince Hansbach's demands, recruit new troops, deal with military spending, handle the rebellious viceroys and high-commissioners, endure being cut off from the mainland, move the nikancha away, and when all of that was done, the Shiksans returned.

"It's fine. It's better for them to be displeased now than to regret this later," Claude explained, "General Birkin is still influenced by his plan to set up a defensive front at the northern mountainous coasts. Of course, he'd be glad now that the nikancha are willing to let our theatre defend the northern and eastern mountainous areas. After all, our troops are far more reliable and we don't need to worry about the Shiksans breaching our defences and spreading everywhere.

"General Skri, on the other hand, has always been the chief logistics officer of the theatre. He has to constantly deal with our rising spending and deficits. The reason he wants to negotiate with the nikancha is because of their gold and silver reserves. He hopes they will pay us in gold and silver to relieve our tight finances. Yet, now the nikancha wants to bind us to their bandwagon by offering to pay in instalments instead. This is something he hasn't considered before.

"Obviously, if we agree to let them pay by a ten-year instalment, we'll have to take the initiative to defend them against the Shiksans. After all, if their nation is wiped out, who would we collect the debt from? It's a matter of a few million crowns, not a small sum. Tell me, did the nikancha ambassadors agree to our initial expensive price for the weapons without even trying to haggle?"

Bolonik's expression soured with realisation. The nikancha ambassadors had agreed to the price the theatre quoted for the Aubass Mark 3s and the cannons without even attempting to negotiate for a lower price at all. It's apparent that they're hoping to go for as high a price as possible. They only have to pay a small portion of the total to get the theatre to commit entirely to fighting the Shiksans and keeping them safe. Otherwise, if the nikancha nation gets wiped out, there would be nobody to collect the debt from.

"We don't need to set up any defence line in the northern and eastern mountainous areas. What we need is for the nikancha to commit to scorched earth. We'll set our defences in the central area of the mountains. That will shorten our supply route and give the Shiksans much trouble. The enemy will have to spend lots of time to travel through the mountains before reaching our defence line and attacking it. That will place a huge burden on them when it comes to supplies and reinforcements.

"Additionally, we can send a small subunit in the mountains to ambush the enemy's rear. If the Shiksans want to keep their supply line safe, they will have to set up their own complete defence line to seal off any avenue our unit can use to cross. They'll also have to man it with enough people. That will slow down their war plans, which will be even more debilitating, given their existing supply problem. I doubt no Shiksan commander would want to see that happen."

Claude picked up his army hat as he prepared to leave. "Tell General Birkin what I said and he'll quickly understand my intentions. I'll be resting at home for the next three days and not seeing anyone. Tell the nikancha that negotiations will resume at nine in the morning three days later. I will only be giving them a day. If they don't accept the plans we have laid out, send them home. Our theatre will then cease cooperation with their nation entirely and watch as they're wiped out by Shiks."

Three days later, Claude stepped into the meeting room of headquarters after the very last grain of sand before nine o'clock fell through the hourglass.

The room was filled with negotiators from both sides. Compared to the near fifty nikancha elders and chiefs that came as ambassadors, the theatre was only represented by Bolonik, Eiblont and a few other high-ranking officers and scribes. Birkin and Skri were not present. They probably didn't want the nikancha to misunderstand that the negotiation would continue under the terms they left off and intentionally refused to join the meetings.

Claude came to the meeting table and just as he announced he would be taking charge of negotiations, he was interrupted. A bulky looking nikancha chief stood up angrily and yelled, "General, aren't you afraid we'll give up on the northern mountainous coasts and let the Shiksans straight through to Vebator?"

Claude burst out laughing. "Nope. I'm not worried at all. In fact, I can't wait for you to do so. It's simple. No matter how the Shiksans come, we plan to drive them away. Our two corps have long been ready for battle. We can't wait for them to come. To our soldiers, the Shiksans are free merits waiting to be earned.

"As for the northern mountainous coasts, if your nation chooses to willingly give up on them, we'll have all the right in the world to occupy them after driving the Shiksans away. Perhaps our theatre can add another coastal colony to our collection. We can even take over Cape Loducus too. It's great news for the theatre."

"B-but the Shiksans have ten standing corps of 600 thousand men! H-h-how many men does your theatre have? H-how could you drive them away so easily? Y-you're only bluffing..."

The nikancha chief had never dreamt Claude would respond so. His threat had failed and had even become an offer for the theatre to take the northern mountainous coasts. In a panic, he brought up the disparity of their troop numbers.

"Very good. Looks like you know they have ten standing corps," Claude said as if he didn't pay the Shiksans any heed at all. "But are you certain the Shiksans will only come for our theatre and leave your nation be?"

The nikancha elder immediately stammered, not being able to say anything in response. An older elder beside him stood up and said, "Honourable General, I would like to remind you too that the newspapers at the western coast reported that the reason Shiks leased Cape Loducus was to continue the colonial war with you. That's why you'll be their first target."

Claude shook his head with a smile. "Looks like you still don't understand. We are the enemies of Shiks, so they will have full justification in coming to fight us. But you nikancha are nothing but slaves in Shiksan eyes, rebellious ones that took over their colony to form your own nation, at that. You're a huge mark of humiliation for the Shiksans. They don't treat you like an enemy because they're mocking you. They didn't bring up war with you, because in their eyes, eliminating you is only an act of quelling a rebellion."

The nikancha elder was speechless. It seemed that he was well aware how the Shiksans saw the nikancha.

Chapter 436 - Negotiations (2)

"Take a seat..." Claude motioned for the nikancha elder and leader to sit down. After his performance just now, he trusted that no nikancha would be stupid enough to mention something so foolish as abandoning the northern mountainous coasts.

"I think you are still not aware of one simple fact. It's impossible for the Shiksans to send all ten of their standing corps to Cape Loducus. According to the scale of their own navy, Seaking, and the Alliance's navy, they can only transport around 100 thousand men, about two corps, at once. In other words, even if they make three trips each year, they'll be able to transport only 300 thousand men, which is around six corps.

"Naturally, we can't discount the possibility that they can use the navies of other nations to help with the transportation of troops, such as the Fochsian navy. Even so, there will only be a maximum of two to three corps in the coming 4th month. Those numbers aren't any threat to our war theatre, but that might not be the case for you."

Claude saw in the ambassadors' faces a look of discomfort and anxiety. Three Shiksan corps definitely wouldn't haphazardly come to the war theatre just like that. However, they wouldn't hesitate to attack the nikancha nation with those numbers.

"I can guarantee that one of our war theatre's corps will be enough to take on three Shiksan corps. We have the past three colonial wars to prove that. The first thing the Shiksan vanguard would do will not be to come for us, even if you gave up on the northern mountainous coasts. The Shiksans will only carefully send small units of scouts in fear that the way you opened up for them is actually a trap we set."

Claude first praised the combat prowess of the war theatre's two corps without holding back and immediately shifted the focus. "Over the many years we fought the Shiksans, I can say that we've grown to know our enemy, Majid III, the best. He's a crazy gambler who always puts all his chips into the colonial war. Even now, he doesn't care about the losses he's sustained.

"It's obvious that this mad king thinks he'll gain ultimate victory. For the first three corps he sends over, he definitely won't use them to attack us as he's afraid that we'll fight all the way back to their territory and disrupt their troop deployment. However, they can't just leave their troops in Cape Loducus doing nothing but wasting food. So, we are quite confident they'll start attacking your nation first.

"To them, attacking you is merely an act of quelling a rebellion by belligerent slaves. They'll reclaim the inland colonies your nation occupies to reestablish contact with the other colonies they have here. Once they get them all back and the remaining corps arrive, they'll have far more routes to use to attack our war theatre and wouldn't have to fight us in a defensive battle in the mountains."

The chiefs and elders' faces turned sour, perhaps due to Claude touching on the thing they were most worried about, but none of them dared to speak out against it. They remained silent for a long while. Just as Claude was about to continue, a rather aged nikancha elder stood up.

He bowed to Claude humbly and said, "Honourable General Claude, we already foresaw what you said as an augury. That's why we have been sent here as ambassadors to request your gracious aid. In this battle, the Shiksans are your enemies just as they are ours. Whether they attack our nation or not first, their final target is still the war theatre. In this time of crisis, helping us is akin to helping yourself."

Foresight through augury; the old man really knew how to spin a story. If they really had that power, they wouldn't have made those unreasonable demands to the war theatre and only sincerely asked for help now. Just mere moments ago, they were threatening the war theatre to give up on the northern mountainous coasts! Did they really think the war theatre would cave and abide by their demands?

"No, no. Elder, please take a seat," Claude said with a bright smile. "Actually, you're wrong about one thing. In this war, it is your nation that requires our help, not the other way around. We don't need your help at all. In fact, we're worried that your help will only give us more trouble.

"There's a saying in our military. We'd rather fight against a fierce wild boar than fight with a useless pig. While a godly enemy is much harder to deal with, we're still confident we can deal with them one way or another. But a useless ally will doom us all. Not only will they drag us down, their help will only exacerbate our predicament and cause us to lose for no good reason."

"Ptoooey! We are no pigs!" A few nikancha were offended by Claude and stood up in protest. "We nikancha will show you what true bloodlust and unwavering bravery is like! We won't give up even an inch of our land! If the Shiksans want to enslave us, we'll fight them to our deaths!"

Eiblont and a few other high-ranking officers held their mouths and chuckled. Claude didn't even specify who the pigs were, yet those elders and chiefs assumed it was referring to them and refuted that claim. Bolonik smiled in resignation and shook his head.

"Very well. Your bravery is to be praised. So you'll fight to your deaths without giving an inch of land. Then what? Who will protect your nation once your men die at the borders fighting the Shiksans? You'll let them march into your territory in broad daylight to pillage and enslave after your fighters all die off, is that it? To the Shiksans, your elderly and sick are worthless to them and will only be wastes of food. They might as well kill them all off and be done with it. They'll only enslave young and healthy men and women who are strong enough to work, after all."

All it took was one rebuttal for their expressions to shift for worse. They knew Claude spoke the facts. It was an unpleasant but, nevertheless, true statement. There was still one nikancha chief that didn't seem satisfied. "Why are you assuming that we'll lose against the Shiksans? Can't we resist their attack and even defeat them?"

"Ignorance really is bliss!" Claude sharply retorted, "What are you basing your assumption off of? Your superior numbers? No matter what numbers you have, one only needs enough time and ammunition to kill you all off. We're in the era of firearms now. No matter how brave or tough your nikancha warriors are, they won't survive a puny Shiksan bullet!

"Yes, you have firearms too, the same ones the Shiksans use at that. But what good would that do? The Shiksan corps are strictly trained in various strategies and tactics and have firm discipline. Perhaps they aren't as brave as your youths, but they obey orders and follow instructions. That's one of the basic conditions to win a battle.

"From the time I sent officers to help train your tribe, we learned that you're undisciplined and you chiefs often break military regulations during the training. Later, your relatives we trained for so long only learned how to fire muskets, nothing else!

"Discipline! Discipline! This is the sole condition that must be satisfied to unite the troops in battle and maintain their combat prowess. However, you gave up on discipline yourselves. Our officers came back and commented that individual nikancha youths are indeed capable fighters, but you can't work in a group even if your life depended on it. Even if there are ten thousand of you, we only need to send a thousand to wipe you out.

"And yet, you want to defeat the Shiksans? I don't think you can do that even in your dreams, with that hodgepodge group of jokers you call soldiers. Do you even know how to set up a defence line or command post? Don't tell me you're going to wave your muskets and charge at the enemy? That's suicidal! How many of your youths are you prepared to mobilise against three standing Shiksan corps? 500 thousand? A million?

"When the Shiksans use cannons to bombard your strongholds, do you know how to protect yourselves? Or are you just going to get blasted to smithereens? How can you count on resisting a surprise night attack if you can't even keep a security perimeter up? One day, you're going to sleep soundly and wake up the next day enslaved. I suppose I should congratulate you in that case. At least, you'll get to live, which is an achievement, really.

"You don't even know the most basic of tactics. Even though you've learned how to use muskets, you can't even compare to our local garrison forces. You'll still have to pay a huge price to obtain a pointless victory. I really don't know where you get so much confidence to even think you stand a chance against the Shiksans, and even defeat them."

Claude's words horribly embarrassed every one of the elders and chiefs. Even the man that stood up to deny that they were pigs sat down with his head hung low.

Claude swept his gaze across the room, satisfied with the effect of his mocking. He supposed that the nikancha would be more self-aware that way and no longer make any ridiculous demands.

"Let's get back to the topic and talk about how we can defeat the Shiksans. Actually, I don't plan to negotiate with you. This is my ultimatum to you, to your nation. Naturally, we aren't interested in your nation and all and don't want to occupy your territory. Having eight large colonies is enough of a headache already. I wouldn't want to find any more trouble for myself and bear the burden of ruling the huge area your nation has laid claim over.

"Here's my ultimatum. If you don't follow our plans to the letter for the war, you can sit and wait until the day your nation gets eradicated. Right now, we consider your nation our ally and acquiesce to your requests. But this time around, we're not trading like usual. This matter has to do with the survival of your nation. We take this with utmost seriousness and came up with this plan of defence.

"I don't know why you refused to follow our demands the first time around, but I can tell you with certainty that this is the only option if you want to save your nation from the Shiksans. Only by strictly following every step of the plan and receiving our military aid will you stand a chance of defeating Shiks. Only after gaining a complete victory in the upcoming war can your independent nation earn the recognition and respect of the nations of the other colonies at the western coast.

"Otherwise, you'll always be a bunch of rebellious slaves in their eyes who formed their own nation without knowing the extent of their capabilities. They'll definitely never acknowledge your nation to be a sovereign and independent one. Naturally, we'll also help you on that front as your ally. Whether it be troops, cannons or firearms, you'll get them as long as you can pay for it."

"What... what if we can't follow every single one of the plan's demands and can't achieve every strategic objective?" an elder asked.

"It's simple. Since you're unable to carry out the plan, it'll simply mean you lack confidence and are helpless against the Shiksans. In that case, our war theatre won't bother to give you any aid. We'll just sit here and watch your nation burn and send our troops to conquer the territory you lost while the Shiksans' heads are up in the clouds from their victory.

"By then, your nation will no longer exist. The battle will still be fought in the territory that you used to occupy. We'll eventually defeat the Shiksans. Hopefully, you'll still be alive in the Shiksan slave camps. We'll save you and grant you freedom, but the war theatre will no longer permit the founding of another independent Shiksan nation. Perhaps you can test your luck on the western coast."

He was forcing the nikancha to make a choice. They did, in fact, need enormous amounts of help, and the war theatre could do without a pig of a teammate. Naturally, they wouldn't refuse the wholehearted aid of the nikancha, but if they dared to pull any tricks from behind the scenes, the war theatre would not hold back. They could immediately leave the nikancha behind and let their nation fall first before sending out their troops to fight the Shiksans.

By then, they would be able to take the territory of the nikancha nation. The only limiting factor for the war theatre was the low population numbers in the eight colonies. Apart from Cromwell, Balignana and Anfiston having more than a million inhabitants and had respectively developed a third of their lands, the population in other colonies still numbered around 400 to 600 thousand. The towns and cities were still surrounded by forests and undeveloped land.

Another nikancha elder stood up. "Honourable General Claude, we had discussed among ourselves your plan and believe that it is of great help to us, but we are barely able to do what it says. Part of it states that we have to use scorched earth across most of our nation's territory, but up to three million of our kin live there. The areas that remain aren't enough for those tribes to live in at all."

Claude shook his head helplessly and walked to the map on the wall, pointing at the remaining two-thirds of the Shiksan colonies' area. "I really don't know why you folk are so complacent. Just because you have enough area for your tribes to settle down, are you telling me you no longer want to attack the other Shiksan colonies and mines? Can't you simply capture those areas for your three million citizens to live in?

"If you're not confident about the strength of your forces, we can send ours to help take the rest of the Shiksan colonies for you. We'll hand the area over to you, but we will keep 70 percent of the spoils. At the same time, we will have each one of our tents guide one of yours. We'll teach your men how we attack step by step. You can add that to our agreement.

"Additionally, I don't get why you still want to hoard the gold and silver you have at a time like this and proposed an instalment plan to pay us back instead. Are you trying to leave the ingots for the Shiksans? If you use them to buy weapons from us, you'll be able to take out more enemies. As long as the Shiksan colonies fall into your hands, you'll have more than enough gold and silver deposits to mine once you run out of money. Don't you understand something so simple?"

......

Eventually, all the ambassadors caved. They requested to have another round of private discussions. Soon, the oldest elder came out of their meeting room. "Honourable General Claude, we agree to all your demands. Our only hope is that you lead us to victory against the dastardly Shiksans."

Chapter 437 - Shiksan Arrival

It was the 5th of the 4th month, Year 593, in Cape Loducus.

The Nubissian rainy season had just passed some ten days ago. Golden rays of sunlight basked the slight, reddish surface of the sea, creating sparkles that dazzle an otherwise calming, dreamy scape. The clear seawater brushed gently against the fine, dark-red sand. A few children carrying small buckets picked shells on the beach, setting the mood with a pleasant symphony of joyous, carefree laughter.

A child looked up and froze all of a sudden. The rest, when they couldn't get him to respond, turned to look at the sea, following his gaze, and realised why their friend had fallen into a daze. Small, black dots were covering the horizon.

It was a fleet the scale of which none of the children had ever witnessed. The sheer number of ships was enough to block out most of their vision. Everywhere on the seas within their field of vision was occupied by ships, and behind them, more ships, all sailing rapidly towards Cape Loducus.

Clear ringing of a bell came from Cape Loducus' lighthouse. It was the tune of welcome. When pirates came to attack, the bell would be rung at a furious pace to incite tension, instead of being ringing once every few seconds like it currently was.

The cannons also boomed, their barrels pointed towards the sky as they fired ceremonial rounds, causing countless 'stars' to rain down from the sky. It was too bad it was currently daytime. The inhabitants of the city would only be able to witness the fireworks during new year's eve and the birthdays of the six dukes of the United Kingdom of Fochs.

The ringing of the bell and the cannon salute represented only one thing: the rich Shiksans who leased Cape Loducus had arrived. The officials of the colony in the city and other influential folk were well dressed. They rushed to the docks with their families to welcome the Shiksans and hand over jurisdiction of the colony to them.

The advance party had already finished preparations beforehand. They had near a hundred carriages ready by the docks and moved the barrels of wheat ale out of the carriages. It was a reception for the Shiksan officers that just arrived so they could drink and let loose after the tense, month-long journey.

As the representatives of the wild-bull company sent to deal with the citizens of Cape Loducus and the Shiksan advance party, the informants of the theatre were dragged to serve ale by the Shiksans due to the lack of manpower. That, however, allowed them to observe the first Shiksan corps in close proximity. They could tell whether the troops were competent by observing how the soldiers got off the ships.

A day later, Claude received an eagle message from the informants that the Shiksans had arrived. As expected, they sent three standing corps over. These three were among five corps that were formed from the 300 thousand Shiksan captives that were released from the newly conquered territories of Aueras. Their names were rather peculiar as well. The five corps were called 1st Penitence to 5th Penitence respectively, and three had already arrived.

The informants said that all soldiers in the three corps were veterans around the ripe age of thirty plus. They were really calm after they got off the ships and seemed like battle-hardened elite troops, just like the veterans from the two corps that had been transferred to the 18 garrison lines in the theatre.

However, the veterans of the theatre were transferred to the garrison forces so they could serve as reserves whereas the released Shiksan captives were there to wipe their humiliation away after being worked like slaves in the labour camps. Perhaps they would be the toughest enemies the theatre had to deal with so far.

The informants also revealed something they heard after everything ended the day before when they were drinking with members of the Shiksan advance party. A few members of the advance party could take the ships back to Freia, but those that remained would serve as logistics officers for the troops in Cape Loducus and continue to purchase goods for them. So, they still needed the informants to continue selling them ale and hoped that they would smuggle even more food from the theatre.

After they got drunk, they unknowingly revealed something. The Shiksan navy, Seaking, and Nasri and Canas' Alliance navy which they loaned Shiks, as well as Goddess Verona, a Fochsian fleet, were the ones who facilitated the current round of troop deployments. Goddess Verona joined in for free for this time only due to the lease deal. The three fleets would return to Freia to transport the remaining two Penitence corps from the newly conquered Aueran territories to Cape Loducus.

At the same time, Shiks would be hiring Goddess Verona to transport food and equipment. When the transport of the two corps and their equipment was complete, the five Penitence corps would soon take action and attack the eastern mountain area occupied by the nikancha.

"What do you think?" Claude asked Eiblont. The two of them were currently in the nearly completed Castle Moknad in the colony of Vebator where the only large silver mine was located. Castle Moknad had been destroyed during the nikancha rebellion and later rebuilt. A garrison line comprising veterans was stationed there to prevent theft from the nikancha through the border.

Since the deal between the theatre and the nikancha was agreed upon during the middle of the 2nd month, the theatre formed a frontline command post in Castle Moknad. Claude was the head of frontline command with Eiblont and Birkin as his adjutants. As for Bolonik and Skri, they had to remain in Lanu for handling administrative tasks across the eight colonies.

"Bick is already on the way to the eastern and northern mountain areas in the nikancha nation to hurry their move and preparations for scorched earth. A survey of the terrain was also necessary for the defence line to be built. So far, the nikancha appear rather cooperative. They sent us enough youth labourers to build our strongholds and promised to provide manpower to help with our logistics shipments.

"Colonel Berklin and Colonel Moriad's two lines have also launched attacks on the remaining inland Shiksan colonies. During the two years of our occupation of Vebator, the metals mined in those colonies couldn't be shipped out and were thus stored. After conquering seven mining bases, we obtained around two million crowns' worth of gold and silver. It's too bad we have to give three-tenths of them to the nikancha."

Eiblont sounded a little unwilling. Thirty percent of two million crowns was 600 thousand. The battles were fought only by Thundercrash's two lines with the nikancha serving as guides, logistics support, keeping captives in line and morale support, yet they were getting such a huge cut. There were still more Shiksan manors and mines to look forward to and much to be split with the nikancha. Eiblont was a little unhappy at the thought of it.

Claude smiled and looked him in the eye. "I now understand why Majid III wants to fight us to the death, as well as where he's getting all that funding. Seven gold and silver mines alone produce nearly two million crowns' worth of metal in two short years. There are tens of these mines littered across the inland Shiksan colonies. Those mines are mostly owned by the nobles of Shiks and the kingdom will profit ten percent off them.

"A simple estimation is enough to see truly how much Shiks is profiting off their nobles' mines. It's no wonder everyone says Shiks is rich. Their nobles often make astronomical bids during auctions. Shiks has been operating their colonies for nearly twenty years, so how much gold and silver did they excavate in that span of time? Their treasuries must be filled to the brim.

"That's why even after Shiks lost thrice in the colonial wars and quelled the noble rebellion, they were still able to take out 2.5 million crowns to lease Cape Loducus from Fochs for five years and form ten standing corps while they're at it. The Shiksans absolutely have to keep their inland colonies for their nobles to be able to live lives of luxury. Only then would Majid III be able to sit firm on his throne and keep Shiks as the hegemon of Northern Freia."

"I know what you're trying to say. Keeping the inland colonies means they'll need a safe and reliable port as well as enough daily necessities to provide the settlers working in the colonies, especially the farmers, to ensure a constant food supply.

"That's why that bastard king is targeting Cromwell and Balingana and demanded our kingdom hand them over with Dorinibla River as the cutoff border. The whole reason the colonial wars even started is because Majid III wants our territory! How dare he?

"Back then, our kingdom just concluded five years of war and our treasuries were emptied out. The army lost around 600 thousand men to conquer large areas of wasteland. Before the signing of the peace treaty, Bluefeather and two other irregular corps were completely wiped out in the Great Plains of Canas by Canasian light cavalry. That horrible loss caused quite a number of other nations to underestimate us, thinking they could take advantage of us.

"That's why after our economy didn't develop well three years later, Shiks began provoking conflict at our colonies on Nubissia and used the excuse that our garrison forces shot at their survey units that entered Cromwell first to demand the ceding of Balingana and Cromwell as reparations. The kingdom refused to comply and the war started.

"And here we are. Back then, the top brass didn't expect us to do much but our best to show how determined we are to not give out any territory. We were just one Ranger folk back then and had to face off against two Shiksan colonial corps. Yet, we won and the kingdom set up the theatre from then on. Later, Shiks sent five standing corps and practically gifted us with 300 thousand captives.

"After that, the Shiksans still couldn't sit still and declared they would form ten standing corps to continue the war. I really was startled back then, since Lord Militant Miselk had just been transferred back to the mainland. We didn't have any idea what to do back then. Who knew the noble rebellion would break out in Shiks. In the end, we had no choice but to wipe out the three standing corps they sent to Port Vebator and made Vebator our colony.

"Now, the ten Shiksan corps did actually come. By the time we conquer their remaining inland colonies and their ten corps, let's see what other reason Shiks would have to continue the war. They would no longer have any foothold in Nubissia and this war will finally prove to the other nations the low level of capability of the Shiksan troops. They have lots of money, but they spend it like children.

"I'm sure their neighbouring nations will soon come after them and create much friction in Northern Freia. Once one party lucks out and gets their way, the other waiting predators would not hesitate to jump into the fray. Now, they have around 200 thousand captives in our colonies providing free labour. After losing ten more standing corps, they'll be nearly a million more men fewer. I'd like to see how they would be able to recruit more troops to form new corps against the impending invasions by their neighbours..."

Eiblont seemed speechless. He had thought that the rhetoric Claude spouted about defeating the ten Shiksans was only to strengthen the men's will to fight. He didn't think that Claude was actually serious about making sure that none of the ten corps would make it back. He wasn't going for a normal victory. He wanted to completely take out more than 600 thousand foes. Eiblont didn't know where Claude found the confidence for that.

However, he didn't want to rain on his parade. He still had something important he wanted to remind him about. "Claude, after conquering the inland Shiksan colonies, we have to give all the territory, the mines included, to the nikancha. Will that really do? We're putting in all the effort while they only watch from the sidelines to get a cut. That's a little too unfair, isn't it?"

Claude laughed and said, "Do you know why we have to send two lines of ten thousand soldiers to attack the inland colonies? The manors and mines are defended by near a hundred at most. Actually, we only have to deploy a tribe to sweep through their colonies.

"I sent them there because it's a rare chance to train our troops. Most of our corps' troops are new recruits. While they've completed all sorts of training, they haven't seen blood or had any battlefield experience. So, I'm using this chance to give them some experience.

"I had Berklin and Moriad swap units for every attack. Ideally, we'll let all our troops see some blood for them to gain some experience. Consider it a rehearsal for the actual battle. As for the mines, I don't really see them as that important. We'll give it to the nikancha as a taste of the good that is to come for working with us so they feel more confident about our cooperation.

"I would be all too happy if the nikancha are willing to continue the mining after taking over. You know well that gold and silver ingots can't be eaten or used like weapons. At the end of the day, they'll need to trade them with our theatre anyway for actual food, weapons, and luxury products their elders enjoy.

"It's just like hiring them to mine for us. In fact, we don't even have to pay a single penny to get the ores. All we have to do is to trade them large amounts of food and cheap products and some luxury goods. Is there a better deal in the world than that?

"Once they get used to consuming our products and grow dependent on us, they'll give up on difficult agriculture and hunting. All they'll need to do to gain food is to trade gold or silver for it, after all. In other words, our theatre will gain a stable trading partner, as well as a market to which to sell our products."

Chapter 438 - Pre-war Business

Claude took wide steps as he headed for headquarters. Taking off his hat and handing the reins of his mount to his adjutant, Anders, he turned to Eiblont, who was helping him undo his cloak. "Did the three Shiksan corps have any activity around Cape Loducus in the past half month?"

There had been some urgent matters at Blackstone Arms Factory which Claude had to deal with personally. Angelina and Sonia also made great progress with tube-propelled mortars, so he rushed there to tend to them and left headquarters for around two weeks.

Eiblont had been working in headquarters the whole time and dealing with the latest developments. He shook his head. "There hasn't been much activity. Just like before, the Shiksans are doing usual drills and training in Cape Loducus. They also sent some men to set up defence perimeters near the northern and eastern mountain areas' borders, stationing a line of men there for defence.

"Apart from that, the informants write that their ale business is doing really well. The Shiksan troops absolutely love it. Half of their second shipment of 50 thousand barrels is already gone and they requested another 100 thousand barrels, the large, hundred-catty ones at that. The order is worth some 40 thousand crowns. Our theatre earned more than 10 thousand crowns from the Shiksans in ale sales alone."

Wheat ale was a type of low-alcohol beverage, much like beer from Claude's old world. In the taverns of the theatre, each serving weighed around a catty and sold for five fennies. A small barrel weighed 50 catties and a large one is double the capacity of the former. Each large barrel sold for five riyas in the market, roughly half a thale.

However, the price the wild-bull company offered the Shiksans was a few times that. Each large barrel sold for two thales, which is akin to 20 riyas. Other transportation costs included, 100 thousand large barrels could make the theatre ten thousand crowns in profit. It was no wonder Eiblont thought that the Shiksans were filthy rich.

With enough materials, a brewhouse with around a hundred employees could produce around 30 thousand catties of wheat ale each day. An order of 100 thousand large barrels could be completed within three months. Cromwell and Balingana had grown to become large suppliers of food and the stockpiled food from the harvests over the past two years had started to become a problem.

Little did anyone know that the Shiksans' ale order created another outlet for the extra food. If three corps alone required that much ale, it went without saying that demand for ale would only rise once the other seven corps arrived. While selling food to the enemy was something the theatre could not permit, selling ale to the enemy at a high price wasn't something they cared about. It only came off as a little weird to be earning money off the enemy.

Claude burst out laughing. They hadn't even begun fighting the war, yet, they were already earning small bucks from the enemy. It truly was quite laughable. Eiblont then handed over a stack of eagle letters, which Claude proceeded to read. The first ones were reports from the informants in Cape Loducus. They wrote about the daily lives of the Shiksan troops. As Eiblont had said, they seemed rather disciplined and didn't cause any trouble.

Next was Birkin's reports about the terrain survey in the eastern and northern mountain areas, as well as the relocation of nikancha tribes for the scorched-earth arrangements. According to him, the survey in the eastern mountains was complete, and they were setting up a defence line there now. The main combat folk of Monolith he brought there was training the nikancha forces and helping them organise the construction of the defence line.

Next were Berklin and Moriad's letters. The two of them led a line from Thundercrash each. With the nikancha guiding them and supporting them logistically, they easily swept through the remainder of the inland Shiksan colonies. Progress seemed smooth and casualties were negligible. Most importantly, the reward was enormous. However, the Shiksan colonies were a little far too wide, and most of them were mountainous, so they had only managed to conquer half that area so far. They might need two more months to finish their mission before they could return.

Lastly came Bolonik and Skri's reports. Bolonik wanted to ask Claude whether the theatre should form another reserve corps just in case the clash with the Shiksans would result in too many casualties. It seemed that he was feeling rather pressured by the Shiksan presence. They were, after all, facing off against ten corps of 600 thousand men.

Skri's message detailed various aspects of their logistics situation as well as the arms trade with the nikancha. The nikancha had spent loads of money and practically bought all the weapons obtained from the Shiksans through the three colonial wars the theatre had in their storehouses. They also requested for Aubass Mark 3s to be sold to them.

Currently, Thundercrash and Monolith and the garrison lines with the retired veterans from the two corps were using Aubass Mark 3s. Had Claude not pushed for the development of the Sonia 591, the Aubass Mark 3 would remain the most advanced firearm in Freia, easily ranking among the top three.

The Aubass Mark 3's edge over other muskets was that it could fire accurately using the sights up to a hundred metres. That was thanks to the special materials and manufacturing processes used for the barrels. After a round was popped inside and fired, it could maintain a stable trajectory within 100 metres, which was the greatest factor behind their accuracy.

No matter what other nations did to replicate the Aubass Mark 3, they were only able to get the firing range accurate up to around 80 metres. There was a difference of some 30 metres. In other words, as the Shiksans attack the troops from the theatre, they would have to first cover a 30-metre distance under Aueran fire before being able to retaliate.

Before the colonial wars broke out, Aueras didn't really care about how well armed the troops in the seven colonies were as the former two Aubass models were enough to suppress nikancha rebellions, ensuring a stable income from taxation on their tribes. It was only after the Shiksans invaded that Ranger folk came to Nubissia to repel them.

Ranger used to have 32 thousand men in its folk days. They were all armed with Aubass Mark 3s and had an extra reserve of three thousand of the same muskets. When they were expanded into a full corps, the kingdom shipped another ten thousand Aubass Mark 3s to them. To prevent broken firearms going to waste, they also allowed a repair workshop and ammunition-production plant to be built in the colonies.

After the victory in the second colonial war, Lord Militant Miselk was summoned back to the mainland. To placate him and show their support for Miselk's plans and strategies in the colonial conflict, the kingdom shipped yet another ten thousand Aubass Mark 3s there to facilitate the formation of the five irregular enhanced corps, further bolstering the colonies' defence capabilities.

During the third colonial war, Claude managed to eradicate three main Shiksan corps. However, the battle was rather fierce and they suffered around 20 thousand casualties and a few thousand ruined muskets. Later, when General Aljess was assassinated, the theatre sent Bolonik to capture the colony of Vebator and made it the eighth Aueran colony.

The royal guard folk returned after rendering great merit in battle and left their arms and ammunition to the theatre due to having to make space for their rich spoils. Skri had estimated there to be around 240 thousand Aubass Mark 3s in the theatre at that point in time, and much of that was thanks to how Miselk ordered the troops in Ranger that had to return to the mainland to leave their weapons behind too, allowing the theatre to have enough arms for another corps.

Thundercrash and Monolith now had 130 thousand men in total. Coupled with the 18 garrison lines, the total numbers of troops in the theatre was 220 thousand. As such, there was an additional 20 thousand Aubass Mark 3s in the theatre. Naturally, many of them were old and refurbished ones, which Skri planned to sell away.

Had Claude's Sonia 591 not been developed, the theatre would never even consider selling the Aubass Mark 3s. Now that they had a more advanced firearm, however, Bolonik and Skri no longer treasured the outdated Aubass Mark 3 as much. Skri's proposal was for them to be sold at a high price to foot the bill for the theatre's expensive production of the new rifles to arm their troops.

The Shiksan muskets had been sold for five crowns each whereas their cannons were sold for 150 crowns each to the nikancha nation. Though the price was high, the theatre would be providing cannoneer training to the nikancha nation as well. But now, they had set their sights on the Aubass Mark 3s and cited that Claude had agreed to their sale, so Skri decided to sell them the used and refurbished ones instead and reported a sky-high price of 20 crowns each.

Claude felt a dizzy spell and wanted to take a breather. Though war was just around the corner, everyone was busy doing business instead! The informants were dealing in ale and Skri was practically committing financial slaughter on the nikancha. Thankfully, the theatre now had its own arms factory to produce new rifles to phase the old Aubass Mark 3s out. Otherwise, they wouldn't have enough arms to fight the war with after selling them out.

He didn't dally and immediately wrote a reply to agree to Skri's plans, though he insisted that the Aubass Mark 3's price be 20 crowns each. The nikancha would not be allowed to haggle with that price. The new rifles could be produced with ten crowns each, so selling one Aubass Mark 3 to foot the production of two Sonia 591s was a great deal.

As for the other letter from Bolonik, Claude clicked his tongue after reading it and decided to ignore it. Bolonik said that he planned to order ten thousand revolvers from Claude for the officers in the theatre and form a revolver strike team to enhance their night-attack capabilities.

While the idea was sound and Claude had similar plans for that, the price Bolonik offered was underwhelming. He was only willing to pay five crowns per revolver and asked Claude for his understanding as the theatre was strapped financially. But who would Claude ask understanding from after giving his away to Bolonik? The last time the theatre ordered a thousand revolvers, he already gave them a two-crown discount, selling each for only ten crowns and giving away 30 rounds for each gun sold.

Since the order was a small one, there was no need for a production line to be formed. Angelina and Sonia had worked for a week straight to complete the order using nothing but their arrays to make all the parts from scratch, all for a meagre profit of around three thousand crowns.

And now, an order of ten thousand for five crowns each was made. It was nothing but a joke. 50 thousand crowns might not even be enough to assemble a production line for the revolvers. That aside, the theatre had already earned more than two million crowns in gold and silver from the sales with the nikancha. There was also the spoils from helping them conquer the inland Shiksan territories, the profit of which amounted to millions of crowns.

They could afford far more than replacing the troops' arms with the new rifles and paying for their training. They would have much left over even after paying the bonuses and pensions after the war and recruit 100 thousand new soldiers for two reserve corps. Basically, once Moriad and Berklin returned with their spoils two months later, the theatre would be filthy rich.

Claude decided to pretend to not have read Bolonik's letter with the revolver request. Not to mention, he had recently just gone to Blackstone Arms Factory to supervise the transition to full production for the new rifles, so there was no time to assemble a revolver production line and train the personnel necessary for that in the first place.

Additionally, Claude had invented the revolvers to be carried as self-defence weapons which had the great weakness of having a short firing range and low power. With the new rifles, the revolvers' use on the battlefield was limited.

Moreover, Angelina and Sonia were busy researching some new weapon ideas Claude provided. If they succeeded, the weapons would prove far more instrumental on the battlefield than mere revolvers, so there was no need to even bother discussing the order Bolonik made. Claude didn't like haggling either.

When he finished reading the letters, Claude told Eiblont, "Looks like our preparations didn't unnerve the Shiksans at all. I wonder if they're that confident or simply ordered not to engage us in any hostilities for now. Looks like they'll only attack after the other two corps and their supplies are delivered some three months later."

Claude had considered messing with the three Shiksan corps that just arrived, but he wasn't confident it could work as Thundercrash just swapped experienced soldiers for new recruits. He had to assume each of the enemy could fight three of his own men.

So, he elected to get the newspapers in the theatre to publicise the military aid they were providing the nikancha nation, including the sale of the Shiksan arms and the combat training they provided.

The only thing he didn't have them mention was the theatre's units' presence in the eastern and northern mountainous areas in the nikancha nation. All that was published was lots of units had been stationed at the nikancha nation's borders and how they were confident they could ensure the citizens of the theatre could continue their blissful lives uninterrupted.

Claude believed the Shiksan informants in the theatre would forward the newspaper reports back to the officers in the three corps. If anyone fell for the bait and wanted to attack before the nikancha troops' training could be completed, Claude would be more than happy to oblige them.

He had even planned to encircle them and deal with all three Shiksan corps in the mountains. He would love to see the expression of the Shiksans once the latter two corps arrived to find none of their fellow soldiers there. By then, they would only be able to defend Cape Loducus. It would surely make Shiks the joke across all Freia once more.

It was unfortunate that none of the three Shiksan corps fell for it. They didn't even bother to send scouts past the border for reconnaissance. Security around the camps at Cape Loducus was also tight, leaving no opportunity for the theatre to take advantage of, much to Claude's disappointment.

Chapter 439 - Defence Line

Claude stood at the cliff in the distance near a few dense pine trees, looking at the Shiksan camp a kilometre or so away with his telescope. This was the border between the nikancha nation and Cape Loducus. Claude had snuck there because he wanted to have a personal look at the three Shiksan corps.

It was the middle of the 8th month and the Shiksans had finally sent 4th and 5th Penitence corps to Cape Loducus. Since those two corps arrived, the other three corps that had rested for three whole months set off to set up camp at the mountainous border of the nikancha nation.

The Shiksans stationed two corps near the northern mountainous coasts and only one corps at the eastern mountains. It seemed they had focused their efforts to break through at the northern mountainous coasts. But Claude still felt that something was amiss, as compared to the Shiksan camps at the eastern mountains, those at the north seemed to be set up more defensively.

"General, we should leave," Myjack reminded, "The Shiksan scouts have been rather active lately. They are often seen within the mountains in this area. Perhaps there are ambushes laid by them. You're a frontline-command officer, Sir, and shouldn't risk your life like this."

Claude put the telescope down. He had seen what he needed and couldn't remain at the frontlines any longer. He had to go back for some discussion. It was obvious that the Shiksans were going to attack soon. However, Claude didn't understand their deployment. Logically, if they were sending two standing corps to the northern mountainous coasts and focusing their attack there, the troops they had in the east would also provide attack support. However, the two corps at the north set their camp up in a defensive manner, which was odd. Were they going to make it a heavily fortified supply point for after the war began?

Birkin's defence line command post was set up at the intersection of the eastern and northern mountains so that the situation on both fronts could be easily given heed. It was located within a large cavern halfway up a hill. The entrance of the hill was rather flat, so four rows of wooden houses covered in vines were built to hide the entrance. The vines were excellent for climbing and camouflaging. It would be easy to miss the buildings even a short distance away.

Two trenches were dug on the flat land in front of the log houses. Those were used to hide the guards that would defend against a possible enemy attack. When Claude came with his men, Birkin came to welcome him and asked him whether he had any new discoveries.

When Claude told him his doubts, Birkin said there was nothing odd about them. He believed the Shiksans were suspicious about the theatre having sent their troops into the nikancha nation. As they were worried about the theatre's attacks, they set up their camps defensively instead.

Birkin's reasoning did make sense. If Claude were a Shiksan officer, he would probably act as Birkin had described. As for the single corps stationed in the eastern mountains, it was probably overkill against the nikancha troops. It was common knowledge that they couldn't fight nearly as well, anyway.

"Are there any reports on the top Shiksan commanders?" Claude asked. He had been travelling around the eastern and northern mountains near the border for around 20 days and didn't have much contact with frontline command at Castle Moknad, so he didn't know whether the informants in Cape Loducus had sent any worthwhile information over.

Birkin nodded. "There is. The informants sent that the one sent to lead the Shiksan troops is a hereditary count as well as general of the Shiksan army. It's said that he played a huge part in the suppression of the noble rebellion and heavily earned Majid III's trust. He is now 68 and has been named the commander-in-chief of their forces here. His name is Norbridon Bang Belondi."

"Is that all?" Claude shook his head in disappointment. Perhaps it was the inevitable inconvenience that came with being cut off from the kingdom. He wanted to know the uniqueness of this Shiksan commander, what kinds of battles he fought, what his personality was like, and so on. Only by understanding the enemy could he prepare countermeasures against him. The informants reported nothing else but his name and age.

A 68-year-old might be more conservative and take less risk, so baiting tactics would be hard-pressed to work. Not to mention, old generals of that era usually stuck to the book in war and loved to follow pre-established conventions in their troops' command. Their defence on their supply line would also be rather tight. Usually, they wouldn't like tactics that led to landslide victories either. It seemed that the three Shiksan corps would be targeting nothing else but the defence line.

"Has the setup of our defence line near the front been completed?" Claude asked.

Birkin nodded. "They're done. Come here to look. I had someone make a clay model of the terrain in the sand table."

They went to a large, separate room within the cavern above of which 18 candle lamps were hung. It was well illuminated. There was a large table in the centre of the room with a large sandtable. The terrain of the eastern and northern mountain areas were a little rough, however, with no details or trees perhaps due to being made in a hurry.

Birkin pointed a thin, long stick at the mountain areas. "We've surveyed the terrain of the border and believe the Shiksans can easily find a path to traverse through. Ever since the formation of the nikancha nation, they've shown no interest in Cape Loducus. No nikancha tribes are located there, so the colony and the nation didn't have much interaction.

"The main reason for that was how the Fochsians hated the nikancha tribes. The settlers usually chased the tribes away and didn't permit them to form near their colony. The nikancha within Cape Loducus were all descendants of the young nikancha women the Fochsian settlers abducted and raised as servants, so they didn't have anything to do with the nikancha tribes.

"As a result, not only did the nikancha nation hate the Shiksans, they hated the Krim pirates' descendants from the Fochs Islands even more and didn't make any attempt at diplomacy with them following the founding of their independent nation, hence the lack of a nikancha presence in Cape Loducus. Had it not been for our leak, the nikancha wouldn't have been able to get any information from any of their kin in Cape Loducus and wouldn't know about the Shiksans' arrival until it was too late.

"Now, the nikancha are working hard to construct our third defence line in the central mountainous area and even took the initiative to help us set up three defence lines at the rear to stop the Shiksans' attacks. I told them there was no need because it would only be possible for the Shiksans to take the three they've already built after the folk of Monolith stationed there is completely wiped out.

"In that case, even if we have ten more defence lines, it wouldn't be able to stop the Shiksans. Without us manning them, the defence lines were pointless. Half a month later, the nikancha sent us a force of 100 thousand men who have all received preliminary training from our officers and know how to fire muskets.

"That day, many nikancha elders and chiefs came along. The elder that represented them held my hand tight and told me that their nation's survival depended on the three defence lines we now held, so they sent us 100 thousand of their elite fighters per the agreement to cooperate with us in hopes that we'd be able to hold off the Shiksans there."

Birkin tapped at the centre of the sandtable where three red strings of yarn were laid across the clay mountain peaks which represented the defence lines. They formed a nonstandard 'L' shape. "I distributed the 100 thousand nikancha youths across our defences as planned. We'll have each Monolith soldier lead two nikancha around and give them rights to enforce military regulations.

"There are 40 thousand more which I've split into 40 tribes. I had them report to the staff officers of Monolith and stationed them at the 40 locations marked with red flags at the border. Those are the locations I believe the Shiksans might attack, so they would be able to alert us of an attack from there and delay the enemy's advance by causing them some trouble.

"Naturally, I'm not expecting to actually be able to hold up against the Shiksans' attack. But at least, it'll show the Shiksans that only the nikancha are fighting. The most they'll see is our officers leading them in battle. I believe after seeing that, the Shiksans would feel confident enough to press the attack. Our 40 nikancha tribes can attack as they retreat to waste the enemy's ammunition and food until they're finally drawn to our defence line."

That was the original plan they had settled on. By the time the Shiksans reached the defence line Birkin had set up, it would be Claude and Thundercrash's turn to attack. They would attack the Shiksans diagonally from the rear and seal off their supply line and mount a drawn-out encirclement attack. The Shiksans, faced with the defence line in front and Thundercrash behind, would have no choice but to surrender after their supplies were mostly used up.

The difficult part of that plan was how they could get the nikancha troops to take the initiative to attack the Shiksans at the border. This operation was actually kept secret from the nikancha. Having a firm defence line at the rear and sending the nikancha tribes out to the front might be construed by them as being used to kill the enemy and cause lots of discontent and problems with the plan's execution.

However, only by stationing the nikancha forces at the outer fringes of the mountains would the Shiksans feel confident enough to press their attack all the way to Monolith's defence line. If they were frank, the nikancha were indeed being used as cannon fodder and bait for the Shiksans.

Little did Claude expect that the nikancha elders and chiefs would be self-conscious enough to hand command over 100 thousand troops to Birkin, solving that obstacle almost entirely. With the officers of Monolith leading the nikancha tribes, their fighting capability might be higher. At the very least, they would give some serious resistance before choosing to retreat.

Birkin continued gleefully, "From the 7th to the 8th month, the soldiers on the defence line have been training the nikancha troops on how to man the lines and fight. Short as the time might be, at the very least, they've learned how to obey orders and to shoot from cover. According to the way the three enemy corps are stationed, there's one stationed in the eastern mountain area, two in the northern mountain area, and one corps in the rear as reserves.

"With our arrangement of one of our own leading two nikancha men, the defence lines are fully manned. Coupled with the tribes of nikancha troops stationed at the fringes of the mountainous areas, we are fully capable of holding the Shiksans' attack back for a whole month. If we didn't have those tribes upfront, it'd only take 15 days for the Shiksans to make it to the central area here.

"With them fighting as they retreat, I believe the Shiksans will be more than worn out by the time they arrive and be unable to mount any more fierce attacks, which will put much less of a burden on our defences. Our counterattacks will also cause them to suffer even greater casualties. By the time your Thundercrash comes to surround them from the back, they'll be at our mercy completely."

Claude took a close look at the sand table and noticed that Birkin wasn't exaggerating it at all. The defence lines at the central area and the troops stationed in the fringe area were really dense. He couldn't find any loopholes in the deployment.

"Did the command post here at the defence line not assign any soldiers to train with the nikancha?" Claude asked. He didn't see any nikancha troops when he entered the command post.

"No," Birkin said, "We've assigned tribes that report straight to the folk all armed with new rifles here, so letting them train with the nikancha is an inconvenience. That's why we don't have even one nikancha here even though the troops in the north and east are accompanied by them."

"Alright. Then, I'll return to Castle Moknad. I suspect the Shiksans are going to attack soon during the next few days, so be careful. If you're certain that they won't reach the defence lines within a month, have the line of reserve troops you stationed at the rear come with me. Blackstone has 6000 new rifles produced and General Bolonik said to arm the troops here at the frontlines first."

Birkin beamed with joy. "Really? Then I'll order them to go with you immediately. With the new rifles, our fighting prowess will triple at the very least."

"Alright. Thundercrash just armed one line with the new rifles as well. Your line will come with me to be rearmed and trained for seven short days to get them to understand how the rifles can be used in battle. It should be enough to get them up to fighting shape. The whole round trip will take around 20 days. Coupled with the training, it'd take a month's time. Are you sure nothing will go wrong here?" Claude just couldn't seem to shake that feeling of uneasiness, but he couldn't see what would go wrong. He attributed it to pre-battle anxiety.

"I promise, don't worry. Even if the Shiksans attack tomorrow, they'll take a month to reach the defence lines. Our troops will be armed and trained with the new rifles by then just in time to teach them a harsh lesson." Birkin didn't bother to get Claude to stay for dinner for the sake of the rifles. He wanted him to buzz off with his men immediately for the switch.

When Claude returned to frontline command in Castle Moknad, Eiblont came to tell him about the start of the battle. "Seven days ago, the Shiksans launched an attack on the northern and eastern mountain areas concurrently..."

Birkin had sent that message by carrier eagle. Claude didn't receive it on the way; his travel back to frontline command took ten days alone. There was no way to speed up travel through the mountains, after all. The attack began three days after his departure. Claude breathed a sigh of relief, as the Shiksans would take at least more than 20 days to reach the defence line. It was enough time for the line of Monolith soldiers to be trained and returned to the frontlines.

He was prepared to wait for the switch to complete before returning to the frontlines with his line of Thundercrash soldiers along Monolith's line. What he didn't expect was before five days even passed, Birkin sent an urgent eagle message. His troops fell faster than dominoes could. The nikancha tribes at the fringes weren't able to take the slightest hit. They couldn't even defend their ground, much less attack to slow the enemy advance down. All they knew was crumble and fall back towards the defence line.

The most troublesome part was the nikancha that ran didn't even see the enemies' faces. The moment they saw their kin from the front run away, the rest followed suit. The officers from Monolith were helpless to stop them from running. Some officers that tried to punish the soldiers by court-martial were shot at.

The Shiksans seemed like they would reach Birkin's defence line in another three to four days. However, the nikancha that manned the defence lines were nervous wrecks thanks to those that turned tail and ran back. Perhaps they would cave upon first sight of the Shiksans as well. Birkin had no choice but to send Claude an urgent request to come with reinforcements.

Chapter 440 - Reason for Loss

"I will bring Thundercrash Tribe 131 and Line 1303 as well as the garrison line stationed in Castle Moknad to the frontlines immediately. Wait a few days. Have the Monolith line come after they finish arming and training. Remember to have Berklin's line take the mines made at Blackstone Arms Factory. We need to field test the effectiveness of those weapons," Claude instructed.

After that, he sent a letter to Birkin to get him to hold on for seven days through any method possible, saying that he would definitely rush to the frontlines within ten days. Eiblont, on the other hand, wasn't too keen on letting Claude take the garrison line to the frontlines and believe those veterans wouldn't be able to match up to Thundercrash's unit.

Claude hurriedly explained that the garrison line stationed in Castle Moknad comprised the veterans that transferred out from Monolith. Claude was going to take them to the frontlines to improve their defensive capabilities. Not to mention, they used to be Birkin's subordinates, so it would be akin to them returning to their old units. He believed they would play a monumental role in battle and be much more reliable than the new recruits.

Things proceeded smoothly and Claude took only nine days to return to the frontlines. He saw Birkin, now with his hands constantly up in his hair from the sheer frustration. He had good and bad news for him. The bad news was the Shiksans only took two days to take the first out of three defence lines. The good news was in the battle that lasted for the next four days, they were able to stabilise the situation at the second defence line. Both sides suffered rather substantial casualties.

"Monolith lost near a line of troops and near 20 thousand nikancha perished," Birkin said, frustrated, "We fell for it. The enemy commander, General Norbridon Bang Belondi, is a slimy fox. He focused the attack in the eastern mountains, not the northern mountainous coasts like we thought. He sent three corps after us and let them fight in rotation nonstop. We weren't able to hold up against the nonstop torrential attacks."

"They even sent the two corps that just arrived into battle?" If the two other corps that joined the attack were the two that just reached Nubissia, they probably didn't get a chance to catch a breather and couldn't possibly be in combat for long. Perhaps it would be a good chance to crush them.

"No," Birkin said, shaking his head, "These three corps are the first three that arrived in Cape Loducus. They've rested for three whole months. We thought that Shiks had stationed two of the three corps from the first batch near the fringes of the northern mountains and the last one at the eastern mountains.

"We didn't think that they'd secretly swap them out with the two new corps. The two rested corps were secretly moved to the eastern mountains without anyone noticing and caught us off guard.

"We thought the Shiksan units stationed at the eastern mountains would be keeping our defence troops busy, yet they ended up attacking us. The corps stationed at the eastern mountains barged straight through and the nikancha units stationed there fell on first contact.

"Back then, I thought only one Shiksan corps was there. Even if they reached our defence line, we would be able to hold on. I didn't think the officers who retreated would report that there were three whole corps attacking! That was when I noticed I fell for it!"

"Why did the nikancha tribes fall in one blow and not even put up anything resembling a defence?" That was another point Claude had doubts about. No matter how weak the nikancha troops were, the fortifications and defences they had were perfectly laid out. They conquered the key points which were easy to defend, yet they couldn't successfully repel even one Shiksan attack.

The three Shiksan corps only used a little more than two weeks to fight their way to the defence lines and took one over two days later. How did the enemy achieve that? Did the staff officers presiding over the nikancha fighters not order them to fire from cover in the trenches? It was supposed to be impossible.

Birkin grimaced and said, "Claude, this can only be your fault. The reason we lost the strongholds in the mountains is the mortars you invented. They even improved the firing mechanism and can propel the mortars some 140 metres away, which is longer than our precision-shooting range, so the troops couldn't do much to fight back. The nikancha weren't trained in anti-mortar combat and one explosion was enough to send them into a frenzy."

It was no wonder the Shiksans were nigh unstoppable -- the mortars were in play. Claude now regretted handing over rights to produce the mortars to the old nobility of the kingdom. The mortars they produced were used by Prince Wedrick to defeat Prince Hansbach to retake the royal capital. However, that also got the other nations of Freia to make their own mortars, Shiks included.

"Are the mortars they made the same as ours?" Claude asked.

"No, they're more or less like the ones we found in the Nasrian smuggling ships. They're shaped like pumpkins and use rope fuses, unlike our pull-type ignition fuses, so theirs can't be used in rainy weather unlike ours. However, the skies are rather bright in the past half month," Birkin said, "I'll show you one Shiksan mortar round. We got this two days ago."

Soon, four large soldiers carried over a firing mechanism with much difficulty. Claude understood what it was with a look. It was a simplified catapult, but they used spring steel to replace the wooden tension parts. Angelina and Sonia had experimented with those before and the mortars could be fired up to 200 metres away. However, they were too heavy and hard to manoeuvre around, so they made good cannon targets, which made Claude give up on adopting them.

Later, one soldier carried a Shiksan-made mortar round. However, the Shiksans don't call it that. They preferred 'iron pumpkin', as the engravings on the round object looked like the patterns on a pumpkin. It was three times heavier than the mortars the theatre produced, but it could store more shrapnel and gunpowder as a result, giving it a more devastating explosion. It seemed the Shiksans had no choice but to use those catapult-like contraptions, as the firing mechanisms Claude came up with which only needed two people to use couldn't fire the iron pumpkins.

"These catapult-like mortars should be easy to deal with, right?" Claude said. Even if they were outside of the accurate firing range of the Aubass Mark 3s, they need many men to operate one of these. Not much firepower was needed to deal with them; all one needed was a band of soldiers firing in their direction nonstop.

Putting aside the maximum firing range of the Aubass Mark 3, which was 380 metres, even the nikancha's Shiksan arms could reach up to 320 metres. There wasn't even a need to properly aim at the Shiksans, so long as they fired dense volleys in their general direction. The bullets couldn't sway that far anyway. So long as a few Shiksans fell, the rest would either be prone or panicked.

Perhaps a few of the cannoneers could aim properly and shoot at the Shiksans operating the mortars, since they'd no doubt be clumped together. The worst the light-infantry cannons could perform was score five to six shots out of ten. All they had to do was aim three cannons at one of these catapults and they would be out of commission.

Alternatively, they could have their better sharpshooters travel further out until they were within range to snuff out the enemy mortar operators. With the new rifles, accurate shots could be taken from 200 metres away and that was more than enough to pose a sufficient threat to suppress enemy mortar fire completely.

Birkin smiled in resignation. "Did you think I didn't try using those methods? Do you know how we lost the first defence line? All I can say is these Shiksans are madmen. They aren't afraid of death and are more than willing to give their lives. It is our misfortune for encountering an enemy like this. They hate us with a white-hot fervour and would rather die than be captured.

"Even now, we still haven't managed to capture a single enemy soldier who surrendered willingly, though we did get some that passed out from their injuries. Even after we healed them, they asked us to kill them instead of sending them to the labour camps.

"I don't know how in the world they were treated after they were taken by those of the new nobility, but they blame it all on us. We were the ones who captured them in the first place and handed them over to the new nobles.

"Before you started on your journey, you sent me a letter. I followed your advice and gave the nikancha that broke rank and retreated the punishment of decimation. We killed nearly two thousand of them all at once and finally managed to grab hold of the nikancha with fear and trained them with our troops.

"I told them that they couldn't escape death. Even if they managed to go back to their tribes, the Shiksan troops would soon come for them anyway. By then, their parents would be killed by the Shiksans, and their brothers and sisters, enslaved.

"One nikancha called Towu surprised me. While he also escaped and ran in all that chaos, he showed great courage and saved one staff officer who was heavily injured by the bombardment.

"He also formed a small strike team to take out a tent of Shiksan scouts. In a melee with a few Shiksan veterans, he took two stabs but took out a whole tent. There are shoulder marks from the Shiksans as proof. However, he was also one of the men who broke rank and escaped, so he was involved in the decimation as well.

"Towu drew the lot to be the one to be killed. The nikancha in his same unit cried badly, thinking that a brave warrior like him wasn't a deserter and shouldn't be punished. Once word of that spread among them, almost all of the nikancha came and begged to be killed in his place instead.

"I sent some people to investigate and found that this nikancha man is unlike his cowardly brethren and led a unit to exterminate a tent of Shiksan scouts. Since he was also injured during the conflict, I chose to spare him of the death sentence.

"I didn't think Towu would refuse this gesture and be willingly put to death. He felt it to be unfair for him to be spared while the others weren't. No matter how brave his performance on the battlefield, it couldn't change the fact that he was a deserter.

"His unit was originally stationed at the fringes of the mountains, not the defence lines, so even after the influential nikancha went to persuade him against it, he refused them all and wanted to die.

"I found that to be rather weird, so I went to see him and treated him to a drink. Towu begged me to kill him with the other nikancha that drew the lots. Only then would the rest of the nikancha soldiers be sufficiently shocked enough to realise that their race might not survive this ordeal.

"While I feel it's a shame to let him go, I went with his wishes. He was the first to be put to death that day, and I handed him a large bowl of alcohol in his honour. Towu finished the alcohol and spoke to his fellow nikancha, telling them that the theatre is the one helping them repel the nikancha invasion this time around.

"But what would they do if the Fochsian pirate descendants came to raid them later? Who would protect them then? Only the nikancha could stand for themselves, so they had to learn some military knowhow from us to train their own men with. Only then would their nation be able to defend themselves.

"He hoped that he and the other two thousand deserters to be punished with death would remind all the nikancha that they ought to rather die on the battlefield than become a coward that fled it. While they might survive the battle, the ones to pay the price might be their families, or even their whole tribe.

"Since they now owned muskets, they should be proud nikancha warriors that protected their tribes and nation. They had to serve their duty, even at the cost of their lives. After saying all that, he walked to the execution platform and was the first one to be hanged to death."

......

Claude didn't think the decimation would result in something so dramatic. Towu had instantly become a martyr for the nikancha. The theatre had no choice but to resort to decimation, given how lazy and ill disciplined most of the nikancha were. If they didn't punish the deserters, the same thing might occur again. Towu was willing to die to remind his brethren of that very point.

"The deaths of Towu and the other two thousand came as a great shock to the rest of the nikancha. That's why two days later when the Shiksans showed up at the first defence line, almost all the nikancha soldiers fought with unprecedented fervour and passion.

"They didn't fear the attacking Shiksans at all and followed our officers' instructions properly to repel the attackers one time after another. They were able to drive the enemy away even as they attacked nonstop during the night with nothing but blades."

Birkin sighed. "However, I didn't think the Shiksan veterans would be that fierce and suicidal. As their mortars were suppressed by us during the day, they chose to attack during the night.

"They first had their infantrymen charge at the defences to draw fire. They came in so quick it soon devolved into a melee. Our defenders and the nikancha units emptied their muskets and drew their blades before jumping into the fray.

"However, we weren't aware that the Shiksans had been pushing their mortar catapults closer to our defence lines. They launched their iron pumpkins straight into our defences, bombing friend and foe alike.

"We were completely flabbergasted and didn't think they'd be crazy enough to go so far. One tribe from the Monolith line and two thousand nikancha men who were sent to fight the Shiksans back were blasted to smithereens. The iron pumpkins continued to fall nonstop and soon, the first defence line was occupied just like that."

Claude finally knew why they lost the first defence line.

"Two days ago, the Shiksans wanted to do the same thing, but they didn't expect us to station our mortar troops further to the front. We blew them back and sent our direct-unit tribe armed with new rifles onto the field to take out their mortarmen.

"As the iron pumpkins' rope fuses had to be lit first, it was a fatal flaw during a night attack. They were instantly spotted by our men and soon, more than half of the hundred mortarmen were killed by our shooters before they could launch many at us. The rest escaped."

Birkin pointed at the catapult-like firing mechanism a little gleefully. "This and the iron pumpkin were our spoils from two nights ago. We have 86 firing mechanisms and 376 iron pumpkins. I've set them up at our defence line. Now, they're ours to use against them."

Chapter 441 - Night Attack and Ambush

No matter how thorough the wise, even they will slip up. Claude only just got to experience what that saying truly meant. As he compared the mortars of the theatre and those of the Shiksans, he noticed that he had been looking at it through a tunnel vision. He pursued portability to no end and caused their mortars to only have half the range of the Shiksan pumpkins, which caused them to be bested by them as a result.

It was true that the heavy catapults and rounds that were three times the size were hard to carry for the Shiksan troops, and their catapults would also be the biggest target to aim for on the battlefield. The operators would no doubt suffer many casualties from the focus fire of the enemy.

However, the firing range of 140 metres and greater explosive power made up for the weaknesses. A soldier's mission was to kill enemies, not to care for their own lives on the battlefield. For battle-hardened commanders, soldiers were mere consumables on the battlefield. Their only goal was to make sure the enemy consumed more of that resource than himself.

Claude had committed the cardinal sin of being sympathetic to the soldiers. Fortunately, he was only thus towards his own men, not the enemy. The theatre's mortars were among the first things Claude had invented and could fire some 70 metres away. While those weapons were easy to use and great for troops that needed to take cover and be mobile, those advantages were completely overshadowed when fighting defensively.

In a defensive fight, the troops would remain in the strongholds, so they wouldn't need mobility. As such, distance became the priority. The best weapon against mortar was the mortar, which was something that had already been proven in combat simulations. All the defence could do was to fire enough mortars to suppress the attacking side.

However, Claude's stubbornness caused Monolith unnecessary casualties. Initially, Sonia and Angelina had tried to implement catapult-style mortars and increased the firing range to 200 metres. However, Claude didn't like how it took too many people to operate, which resulted in too many casualties when fighting defending enemies, so he forbade the troops from using them.

It was only when Birkin so gleefully told him that they managed to get a few of the enemy catapult mortars to use in his defences that Claude realised the magnitude of his mistake. He could simply make different mortars for attack and defence. That way, the Shiksans wouldn't have an advantage with their longer-range mortars.

Claude had wanted to replace the existing mortars with grenade-discharge or tube-firing ones. He had initially invented the current iteration of mortars as grenades anyway. He only converted it into a mortar because there was no way to mass produce stable gunpowder that could generate a strong-enough explosion, so he compensated by filling it up with more black powder, which made it unable to be thrown by hand.

That was why he didn't treasure his mortar design that much and easily gave the rights to make them to the old nobility's representative. He didn't think the appearance of the mortar in Freia would cause other nations to try to replicate it, leading to the heavy casualties they suffered by Shiksan hands.

Currently, the theatre's mortars had half the range of the enemy's, so they weren't able to effectively suppress the enemy. As for the tube-firing mortar design he placed his hopes in, tests still didn't succeed due to technical constraints. It was likely the case that the theatre's mortars had the weakest explosive power and shortest range relative to the knockoffs made in Freia.

Fortunately, Birkin wasn't really serious about blaming Claude for it. No general could perfectly predict all the variables in battle. He was all too happy to see Claude come with the garrison line from Castle Moknad. Since they used to be his subordinates, the takeover was smooth and he soon stabilised the second defence line at the eastern mountain area.

Claude also brought Thundercrash's Tribe 131 and Line 1303, all armed with the new rifles. So, Birkin was eager to try reclaiming the first defence line from enemy hands. But after much consideration, Claude turned the plan down and asked Birkin to get the nikancha to build a few more defence lines behind the existing ones.

The reason he gave was simple. It was like fishing; pulling immediately after the fish got the bait would usually cause it to escape. Only by being patient enough and letting the hook sink in deeper could they truly catch it. Currently, the three corps in the first defence line were the large fish that fell for the bait. Counterattacking immediately might tick the cunning commander off and cause him to retreat immediately.

As such, Birkin had his men give up on taking the defence line back from the enemies. Claude wanted to inspire in his enemies the spirit of never giving up by ordering for a few more defence lines to be built, constantly hanging the carrot of success inches from their noses and rendering them oblivious to the trap they were walking into.

Claude was now ready to strike at any time. As they had previously planned, he would intercept the enemy's rear from a diagonal angle to disrupt their supply lines. If possible, he wanted to surround the veterans of the three Shiksan corps in the mountains and capture them after draining them of their supplies so that they could contribute to the glorious development of the theatre.

While he managed to convince Birkin to do what he said, Claude realised when he led Tribe 131 to attack that the proverbial fish wouldn't be that easy to catch. The theatre's initial plan was to take down an enemy corps, but now, it seemed impossible to achieve, because there were now three guests instead of one in the banquet they prepared.

There were still a dozen of nikancha tribes at the fringes of the northern mountainous coasts. Learning from the horrible loss due to the bombardment, Monolith sent a band of soldiers to train the nikancha on how to counter mortar attacks.

Claude heard that the Shiksans didn't launch any delay attacks from the officers in charge of the nikancha that returned from the fringe areas of the northern mountains. However, the number of Shiksan scout tents increased considerably. The nikancha tribes' main priority was to take out the Shiksan scout tents. Both sides suffered considerable casualties.

After entering the eastern mountain area, Claude noticed that Shiksan outposts were all over the place. Shiksan lookouts were stationed at quite a number of elevated areas. Had Tribe 131 not received special training, been strong from the get-go and been armed with new rifles, Claude wouldn't have been able to handle the Shiksan infiltrators.

He ordered Tribe 131 to split up and clear out the Shiksan scout tents and their lookouts. Since they weren't able to hide their presence from the enemy, they might as well go in guns blazing and keep the enemy constantly on their toes and unaware of the number of their attackers. Only by instilling fear in the enemy would they be able to startle them into a retreat, allowing Claude to reclaim much of the mountainous area.

It was obvious that the Shiksans also took note of the enemy units that had infiltrated their rear. The choice was obvious to make from the theatre's perspective. The five Shiksan corps had their supply lines cut off by Ranger using the very same tactics, not to mention the supplies in Wickhamsburg that were all burned up. In the end, near 300 thousand soldiers had to surrender and march into the labour camps.

This time around, the Shiksans had been prepared for the same trick to be used again. They guessed the theatre only sent a tribe or two to infiltrate the eastern mountains, so they sent two lines to take care of them. What they didn't expect was the fearsome might Tribe 131 had with their new rifles. The two Shiksan lines were beaten back without even seeing the enemy up close. Only a tenth of them survived.

Claude led Tribe 131 and launched a night attack and an ambush against the two lines respectively. Those were familiar tricks employed by Thundercrash. The advantage of using cartridges instead of slow matches was they didn't have to light them, which would've been a dead giveaway during the night. The Sonia 591s also mowed down the enemies quickly. Any enemy soldier that attempted to retaliate would inevitably light their slow matches, which gave the attacking soldiers a bright target to aim for. They were soon obliterated.

Initially, that line of Shiksans had wanted to hold their camp and wait for reinforcements from the rear to arrive. However, they couldn't hold on at all under the immense pressure Thundercrash was putting on them. The most troublesome part was how they couldn't even tell where the enemy was because of the lack of slow-match lights. With their basic countermeasure against night attacks gone, they weren't able to fight back at all.

The Shiksan troops could only hear the sounds of guns being fired and mortars being flung. Their comrades fell one after another and within an hour and a half, their ranks were completely crumbled. Fewer than a tribe of enemy soldiers survived the hellish onslaught and escaped their camps into the dark forests. They only managed to encounter more friendlies when day broke.

Tribe 131 only suffered fewer than a hundred casualties in the night battle, which were mostly due to the Shiksans' random shooting and scattershot from the light-infantry cannons in the camp. Even blind shooters could hit targets with enough time and repetition. While the cannoneers were almost immediately taken out, a few unlucky Thundercrash soldiers who were too close to the enemy camp were killed.

Claude didn't let Tribe 131 search the enemy camp for spoils or treat the enemy injured. Instead, he had them rush to the rear of the camp to set up an ambush in a nearby valley. When all the soldiers were properly hidden, he had some men wipe away traces of their presence and let his men rest.

When day finally broke, the other Shiksan combat line met up with the scattered soldiers that managed to escape their camp. When they heard about the shocking news of their fall during the night attack, the tribesman of the vanguard chickened out and didn't dare proceed forward. If a whole line could be wiped out with so few surviving, his tribe would no doubt be walking into a death trap.

After two long, gruelling hours, the main force finally came. Upon hearing the testimony of the surviving soldiers, the linesman broke into a tirade, calling the vanguard's tribesman a shame to all Shiksan soldiers. He reasoned that since the enemy attacked during the night, it meant that they didn't have enough forces to match up with the combat line. That was the only plausible reason for using such an underhanded tactic. If the enemy had two or three lines or one folk, they could simply mount a direct attack.

The Shiksan line was only eliminated because they were ill-prepared and careless during the night. If the vanguard tribe had rushed to their aid, perhaps they'd be able to catch the enemies who just finished their night attack. According to common protocols of engagement, the officer of the unit would usually let his men scavenge for spoils after winning a battle. Had the vanguard tribe rushed there, they would've been able to deliver a fatal blow to the enemy.

The linesman got angrier and angrier as he rebuked the cowardly tribesman and ordered all his men to increase their pace to rush to the camp of their fallen comrades. He was certain that the enemy would've long left the camp, so the way there had to be safe. He would also be able to show how eager he was to help his allies out, so his leadership couldn't be faulted no matter how the battle turned out.

Eventually, this other Shiksan line walked straight into Claude's trap and let the tragedy unfold. During the initial moments of the ambush, the linesman had wanted to put up a death struggle when he discovered the enemy's ambushers that encircled them were only a hundred metres away. He ordered his men to counterattack at once, only to be turned into swiss cheese right after giving his order.

The rapid firing of the new rifles caused the Shiksans to feel gunshots were firing off endlessly around them. The sound alone was enough to give them the impression the enemy wasn't that much fewer in numbers than they were. Any attempt at counterattacking would be pointless, and the braver soldiers who bothered to load or aim would immediately be covered in bullet holes. Merely raising one's body the slightest inch was enough to earn them an honourable death on the battlefield.

The gunshots didn't seem to stop and the Shiksans continued to increase their estimations of the enemy ambush force's numbers. Even a line of troops couldn't fire that many shots in succession, as muskets had to be loaded after each shot. It was a time-consuming process, yet, there were no gaps in the gunshots of the enemy.

They laid flat on the ground or hid behind rocks or even under corpses. The experienced veterans believed that the firing would eventually stop.

And that did happen as they predicted. Almost everyone in Tribe 131 had emptied six to seven magazines that each contained five rounds. The 1300 men fired near 40 thousand bullets and all the Shiksan soldiers, alive or dead, were flat on the ground. None of them could remain standing or sitting if they wanted to live.

The gunfire ceased and the soldiers of Tribe 131 found that they no longer had targets to fire at. Since they couldn't possibly continue to fire at the corpses, they immediately cheered. However, Claude ordered them to keep their guard up and had the mortar units launch three volleys for safe measure instead of getting his men to clean up the battlefield directly.

His care prevented the tribe from suffering unnecessary casualties. When the mortars exploded, the soldiers were shocked to see countless figures jump out from the pile of corpses. The Shiksan veterans braved the bullets fired by Claude's men, managed to react and dashed for the rear. Near a thousand of them ran without caring about any losses. In the end, some 300 of them managed to escape.

Claude felt quite frustrated. The new rifle's performance on the battlefield was stellar, but the men of Tribe 131 who were given the most live-round training still wasted too many bullets. Had he had more men, he would've been able to make a proper encirclement to prevent the remaining 300 from escaping to achieve a flawless victory.

Looking at the rivers of blood and piles of human remains, Claude finally gave the order to clean up the battlefield.

Chapter 442 - Solving the Root of the Problem

Two main lines that were sent to infiltrate the theatre were horribly beaten back, much to the Shiksans' shock. Of a force of ten thousand plus, little more than a thousand survived and escaped. According to those soldiers and the Shiksan commanding officers, they believed the famous Thundercrash sent a whole folk to their rear and posed a great threat to their supply line.

Since the theatre had shown their hand, the Shiksans responded. First, instead of continuing to send scouts to patrol them only for them to be killed, they retreated their troops and gave up on non-crucial locations. Then, they increased defences along their supply line by making use of the strongholds the nikancha had fled, forming them into crucial supply points. They also increased the numbers of their escort units of the supply convoys.

Eventually, Claude realised that he would have to face a heavily defended supply line. If he really did have a folk, he could use his numerical superiority to overwhelm the logistics troops and cripple the Shiksans' supply line. He could also attack the important strongholds, but that wouldn't do more than a little damage. The Shiksans could easily recover from the loss of those strongholds.

The problem was he now only commanded Tribe 131. Dyavid's Line 1303 remained at Birkin's second defence line. Monolith's newly armed line hadn't returned to the frontlines, so they needed troops armed with them to fend off the iron pumpkin bombardment by the Shiksans.

Even if Dyavid's line could come, Claude wouldn't attack the strongholds on his own accord. It was a pointless act; he would suffer heavy losses to conquer it and end up being unable to defend it. In the end, he would have to give up on it. So, the Shiksans could continue to occupy those strongholds if they wished. It wasn't like they were going to attack him and send their troops to get themselves killed for no good reason.

The night attack and ambush had more or less expended the hundred bullets each soldier had brought along. Most troops only had three full magazines remaining and needed to resupply. Based on time estimations, Eiblont's reinforcements should arrive at the frontlines soon. Claude decided to make a trip back to discuss with the other two generals their upcoming plans and how they would respond to the war the Shiksans started.

"The Shiksans are using the strongholds the nikancha fled to form a defended supply line that stretches hundreds of kilometres through the mountains. Along the way are many elevated locations with their fortifications and outposts. Additionally, each of their supply convoys is defended by a line of troops. They are easily able to respond to any attack by taking cover behind the supply carriages.

"If we were on flatlands, given Thundercrash's mobility and rapid-strike capabilities, we would easily be able to take such supply convoys out. But the terrain is too unstable in the mountains. We aren't able to commit so many troops at once to deal with them. If we want to force an attack, we'll have to take out the strongholds along the supply lines first, which will in turn result in us unable to pour large numbers of forces into battle. There's only one small path through the mountains and sending a tribe of men into an attack is already the limit.

"Even if we take over these strongholds, we won't be able to defend them. The moment the Shiksan reinforcements arrive and surround the hills the strongholds are on, they wouldn't even need to attack. Our troops would have no choice but to wait for their doom. Currently, the situation is completely different from the time Bick stationed the nikancha tribes there. Back then, the mountains were our territory and the Shiksans had to take one stronghold after another to advance.

"But now, the whole area is under their control. Even if we take one stronghold, we'll have to give up on them and retreat, so they can easily retake them. If we want to go through the same route again, we'll have to fight to take the stronghold all over again. The Shiksans will be more than happy to oblige us in wasting our troops in a nonstop cycle.

"I suspect they committed a corps of forces to defend the supply line. Otherwise, their defence couldn't possibly be this tight and leave no openings for us. Bick, have the Shiksan attacks on our defence line lately intensified or weakened?" Claude asked, putting down the wooden pointer stick.

Birkin scratched the goatee on his chin in thought. "Hearing you say that gives me the feeling that the Shiksans really did decrease the intensity of their attacks on our defence line. They look more and more like probing attacks instead of the nonstop waves they sent us in the beginning.

"I've always thought it's because your presence in their rear caused them to tone it down. Now, it just looks like they bit off more than they could chew and no longer have a way to maintain such a reckless nonstop fight. It's no wonder even the nikancha troops are able to easily drive the Shiksans back nowadays."

"I think they are short on men," Claude said, which Birkin and Eiblont found rather doubtful.

"Impossible. They have three standing corps, 180 thousand men in all. They still have two corps resting at Cape Loducus and the fringes of the northern mountainous coasts. How could they lack troops?" Birkin argued.

Claude chuckled. "Let's ignore the two resting corps first and focus on the three that launched an attack on the eastern mountains. How many casualties do you think they suffered after they took our first defence line and in their current effort to take the second?"

Birkin suddenly seemed more excited. "When we lost the first defence line, our corps lost a line and the nikancha suffered around 20 thousand casualties. Our estimations of the Shiksan losses put it around three lines.

"After that, the Shiksans started their attack on our second defence line. Being long prepared to counter their iron pumpkins, they suffered even more losses. Our defenders have always maintained the advantage. The shoulder marks from the dead Shiksans we managed to collect number around six thousand, and there were even more corpses we weren't able to loot as they were too close to the enemy.

"I think the Shiksans have lost close to a folk. Five lines of 30 thousand men should be more accurate. In the coming ten days, they've launched only smaller skirmishes. I thought they were merely trying to test out which parts of our defence line was weak before going in for a stronger attack."

"No, they really are short on men," Claude said, shaking his head as he picked the wooden pointer up and motioned it to the Shiksan-occupied eastern mountains on the sandtable. "They only have three corps. Maintaining their supply line takes up one corps, and your estimation puts their losses at around five lines. The night attack and ambush I laid in that area also took out around ten thousand men, roughly two lines.

"A Shiksan corps only has around nine lines of combat personnel, around 50 thousand men. The other two to three thousand are logistics troops and staff officers. With one of their corps having lost up to 40 thousand men, you can say that their corps is already crippled and lost its ability to fight. Apart from the corps defending the logistics troops, I think there's only one Shiksan corps that can face us off at the defence lines."

"Wait, there's something I don't get," Eiblont said, "If what you said is true, then a single Shiksan corps wouldn't be enough to take our defence line. In fact, they have to switch to defence to prevent us from counterattacking. Why do they even bother to mount pointless attacks on our defence line then? Even though their casualties are low, surely it's still a blow on their morale with each failure?"

Claude burst out laughing. "This is all because of that cunning Shiksan commander. He wants to maintain the stability of the battlefield. Actually, I think he doesn't want to occupy our defence lines at all. He doesn't want to give up on the strongholds in the mountains he managed to capture either. He only wants to hold us here until their reinforcements arrive.

"Their small skirmishes that incur only tens of casualties are intended to look like probing attacks so we'll think they're trying to find a weakness in our defences and maintain high alert instead of sending troops to disrupt their rear. The way I see it, the three Shiksan corps are nothing but a dead snake. They are trapped between a rock and a hard place, unable to even wriggle away.

"One corps stationed at the first defence line at the eastern mountains has to prepare to defend themselves against our attack, one has to keep their supply line safe and the last has effectively been crippled by us and lost all ability to fight. That's why they have no choice but to launch small-scale probing attacks on our second defence line to give us the impression they still have the initiative on the battlefield so that we don't retaliate that easily.

"To the Shiksans, the key to getting out of their predicament is holding out until reinforcements arrive. Don't forget they have five more corps that aren't transported to Cape Loducus yet. They only have to wait another month before the third batch of troops arrives. By then, they'll just have to switch out the two corps stationed at the border of the northern mountainous coasts to have 100 thousand freshly rested troops at the eastern front to resume their attacks."

Birkin was struck with realisation.

"Then what are we waiting for? I'll gather our troops to launch a counterattack against the Shiksans immediately and send them back the way they came from."

"Hey, don't!" Eiblont yelled.

"No, we can't counterattack," Claude said at the same time.

Confused, Birkin asked, "W-why can't we?"

Claude turned to Einlont. "After you."

Eiblont immediately pointed at the sandtable. "Currently, the Shiksans got their own hands tied. Like Claude had said, they are a dead snake that is stuck between our second defence line and the fringe mountain areas.

"If you counterattack, you're essentially freeing them from this very predicament. The further away they retreat to, the more mobility and attack power they will recover. And the further we pursue, the longer our supply line will be and we'll clash with them in the mountain area. Both sides will lose significant numbers of troops that way.

"This is the outcome they don't even dare to dream of being able to get. Don't forget that we only have two corps with 130 thousand combat personnel, while the enemy still has five corps that haven't arrived in Cape Loducus yet. Even if they sacrifice their three corps to take out one of our corps, it's still a huge win for them."

"But if we don't counterattack, won't their plan work too? They only have to wait a month more before reinforcements arrive in Cape Loducus. They'll be able to continue attacking us by then. What do we do if we won't fight back?"

Eiblont scratched his head. "I still haven't figured that part out. I only have a hunch we shouldn't counterattack. The state the enemy is in will definitely allow us to find an opportunity to defeat them."

Claude could only shake his head in exasperation. That was the greatest difference between attack and defence-type commanders. The defensive Birkin's first reaction was to suggest a by-the-books counterattack to chase the enemy back to whence they came and reclaim the mountain areas lost to them, retaking the edge in the theatre's hands.

The offensive Eiblont, however, felt that there was great merit to leaving the state of affairs as it is. The enemy was unable to move and he could search for an opportunity to crush the enemy. The moment he found one, he might destroy the enemy altogether, which might be far more advantageous than counterattacking and driving the enemy away.

Claude cleared his throat to draw their attention. "We won't counterattack, but we can turn our offensive efforts here."

Birkin was taken aback. "Attacking the two Shiksan corps stationed at the border of the northern mountainous coasts?"

Contrary to Birkin's reaction, Eiblont's eyes glowed with insight. "That's right! Why didn't I think of that? The two Shiksan corps are resting there. They believe their three other corps have our forces held back and would never see us coming."

"And there's the element of surprise," Claude said as he nodded, "The Shiksans want to boil hot water here in the eastern mountains, so they opted to defend the pot of boiling water and not let us touch it. Since we can't reach the pot nor water, we can simply go remove the wood under their fire. Let's see how they continue boiling their water now. As far as we are concerned, the two resting corps in the northern borders are the firewood they're preparing to increase the flames.

"The three corps at the eastern front can no longer move if they want to maintain the current status quo, so the two resting corps are isolated and undefended. According to our informants in Cape Loducus, the two corps aren't complete, as they have a folk of men stationed near their main camp in Cape Loducus where their main supply base is located.

"This is the lesson I want to teach the Shiksans. Just because they have a whole corps watching their supply line doesn't mean their resources are safe from our surprise attacks. We won't take out their supply convoys. Instead, we can go straight for their supply base. Once we burn up all the food and supplies they tried so hard to stockpile, I'd like to see what their supply convoys can transport."

"You mean we should take out the two Shiksan corps resting at the fringes of the northern mountainous coasts and use that chance to destroy their supply base as well?" Eiblont finally understood why Miselk praised Claude for excelling at offences. When he was merely feeling the slightest hint of an opportunity to be taken advantage of, Claude already figured out the enemy's weakness.

"We won't touch the two corps first," Claude said, tapping on the sandtable with the pointer. "Bick will continue to have Monolith keep the three Shiksan corps busy at the second defence line. I'll have Lieutenant-Colonel Myjack lead Tribe 131 to infiltrate the eastern mountain area and ambush their supply lines with mines. We'll let them think we have no other way but to use small tricks like these to harass them.

"I will take one folk from Thundercrash, comprising Line 1301 to Line 1304, and infiltrate our way through the defence line of the two Shiksan corps at the north. I'll attack the main supply base close to Cape Loducus first. There's only a folk there and they won't stand a chance against our attack. They wouldn't even see it coming. Once we start setting fire to burn up their food and military supplies, the two corps stationed at the border of the northern mountainous coasts will definitely send some reinforcements.

"We'll wait in ambush to crush those reinforcements before attacking the rest of the troops that weren't deployed. I'll attack from the rear while you, Eilon, will attack them with a folk from the front. We'll take their main camp quickly with a pincer attack and regroup before moving on to the fringe areas of the eastern mountains and trap the three Shiksan corps in the mountains. I believe they'll soon surrender when they run out of supplies."

Chapter 443 - Wolfang Band

"General, the enemy set up a tight defence line around their camp. Their outposts are across all high points from the coast to the eastern mountains. Additionally, they also have more than ten tents of mounted patrols that go up the outposts for a check every fifteen minutes. We are unable to cross the security perimeter, at least not with that many people. Perhaps it would work with smaller numbers, though."

Hearing the scout tentsman's report, Claude felt a headache welling up. He didn't think he'd be greeted with such bad news after spending ten long days to travel to the border of the northern mountainous coasts. The ten plus scouts had kept in hiding there for two days and came to such a conclusion. The tentsman was the only one capable of bringing a tent of men into the security perimeter and being able to leave undetected. He knew the enemy guard postings and schedules all too well.

The scout tent belonged to Line 1303 and the tentsman was a sergeant-major whom Linesman Dyavid saw with great favour. Claude also knew him personally. Had he been able to read, he would've been promoted to first lieutenant based on his merits instead of remaining a sergeant-major and a mere tentsman.

It seemed that the two Shiksan corps didn't shrivel up in their camps and instead spread their troops out to cover the whole border of the northern mountainous coasts. Claude had wanted to sneak a folk of troops through their perimeter to attack the main supply base in Cape Loducus, but now, it seemed like it was easier said than done. The scouts concluded that they would almost certainly be discovered by the enemy.

The old sergeant-major took out a thin book from his chest pouch and flipped open the page on which he marked the patrol routes and outposts of the Shiksans. Every detail his tent observed was marked to obsessive degrees inside the map.

Claude asked in a surprised tone, "Mulak, you've learned how to write and draw?"

Mulak honestly replied, "The brass forced me to. I was made to memorise three words a day and it's been a year since then. I can read newspapers now, even if I'm a bit slow. Colonel Dyavid said that as long as I can pass the literacy test, I'll be promoted to first lieutenant straight away."

However, he didn't drone on about the topic. Instead, he pointed at the map of the border. "General, we used this dried-up river to infiltrate the enemy perimeter. However, along the way are two hills where three outposts are situated. Each is defended by a tent. Our scout tent used the cover of night to sneak past them on prone so as not to be discovered. The riverbed is about 1.4 metres deep, so we had to keep low to not alert the enemy."

The dried river did in fact pass through the Shiksan security perimeter. However, there were two problems. The first was the need to take out the three security outposts by the banks of the river, which could alert the larger enemy force about it. The enemy was no fool, and a folk passing through would inevitably leave traces. Any person of sound mind would know immediately where Claude was targeting.

He wanted to attack the supply base first, but that plan counted on the element of surprise. If he was discovered beforehand, Claude might be met with strong resistance and fortifications. Carrier eagles could travel much faster than a folk could, after all. The worst-case scenario was the Shiksans would move their troops from the eastern mountains to join those in the north to wipe Claude out from both sides.

While Claude wasn't afraid of the enemy numbers and confident that he could force his way to take the supply base, doing so would be wasting the plan he prepared. Perhaps he could even use the fortifications of the supply base to wear the enemy attacks down before breaking out of encirclement, but his troops would suffer too many casualties for his liking. The main thing he had a gripe with was he would be put in a passive position.

"Get me General Eiblont and First Lieutenant Bloweyk from the Wolfang band in Tribe 131," Claude instructed Anders.

Bloweyk soon came over and saluted. "Your orders, General?"

It was wartime and even his own brother had to refer to him by his military address. Claude nodded to signal for him to wait at the side.

Eiblont spent half an hour coming from the rear. Claude quickly briefed him on the situation they would soon face. "We have to change our initial plan. After I lead 1st Folk through the enemy perimeter, immediately launch a full-scale attack on the Shiksan security troops and force them to retreat their men to their camp so that they're no longer able to tell what units pass through their perimeter.

"If the enemy steps out of the main camp in a large number, give them a painful strike. I'll leave a tribe of troops armed with the new rifles from Line 1303 and half my sniper squad with you. I believe the enemy won't be able to match that. What you have to pay attention to is to never enter the enemy's main camp and waste our troops. The enemy has three folks while you only have one. Just focus on harassing them and keeping them there. That's your mission.

"Wait for me to burn the supplies stored in the base. Never act recklessly no matter how many Shiksan reinforcements come. Once I ambush their reinforcements and attack their camp from the back, they'll think that they probably fell for our trick. That's when you continue to attack mildly to keep their attention. They will think that we're the main force and focus their defences on the rear and neglect the front. When that happens, give them a forceful blow from the front and wipe them out."

Eiblont nodded. "Understood. Worry not, I'll do as you say."

Claude turned his attention to Bloweyk. "First Lieutenant Bloweyk, your mission is to lead Wolfang to wipe out the three enemy outposts along the river. Disguise yourself as the Shiksan patrol and confuse the other patrol soldiers and shield our main force as they sneak past the perimeter. Make sure the enemy doesn't notice us. Remember. I don't want to hear any gunshots during your mission."

Bloweyk saluted the two generals. "Understood. Consider it done."

Claude then pointed at the silent sergeant-major and said, "He's Mulak and he'll be your guide. Prepare to depart when night falls. Also, when I say I don't want to hear gunshots, I don't mean to not fire under any circumstances. Wipe the enemy out if Wolfang comes under threat. I hope you understand that the life of any soldier in Wolfang is more valuable than an enemy general's."

Bloweyk and Mulak saluted before leaving without a word.

Eiblont laughed as he said, "You're a little too harsh on your brother, you know, always putting him on dangerous missions like that. I once thought that you went through all the trouble of disqualifying so many soldiers to pick out the elite to protect your brother in Wolfang. I only found out later that you're trying to forge them into the sharpest knife Thundercrash can use. The other troops call Wolfang the band of kings which only the most elite of soldiers can join. It's just too bad their spending is a little too high..."

It was indeed rather high. The most proficient pugilists and sharpshooters were in that band and they were the first to switch to the new rifles and allowed to train with as many live rounds as they required. Each member of the band was also given a revolver, a privilege usually only reserved for those above the rank of second lieutenant. The spending of Wolfang was akin to that of two clans combined, but Claude was dead set on forming the first special operations unit in this world, so he didn't hold back at all.

"One trains troops for life to be used in one moment," Claude said, "This is money well spent. Do you think any other unit than Wolfang would dare to take on such a mission? Normal scout units might fire immediately if we order them to attack the three outposts and startle all the enemies at once. There's no way we would be able to cross the security perimeter unnoticed that way.

"You should go make preparations too and let the scouts of 2nd Folk infiltrate the areas near the enemy outposts. If gunshots can be heard from Wolfang, immediately attack the enemy and confuse them. Let them think we're launching our first large-scale attack on their outposts instead of the three outposts near the river alone."

"Understood, General." Eiblont saluted and left.

Waiting was a rather torturous affair. Claude honestly wanted to go on the mission together with his brother, but with his rank being so high up, there was no way he could partake in conflicts on the frontline. Sometimes, he missed the glory days of his time in 1st Ranger Tribe. As a mere junior officer, he was required to lead troops and fight at the forefront. Back then, he didn't have to consider that many problems and didn't carry that heavy a burden.

In his rambling thoughts, he gradually fell asleep. By the time Anders woke him up, it was getting dark.

"What time is it?" Claude took the towel his adjutant handed him and wiped his face with it.

"General, it is currently one twenty-seven, early morning," Anders reported.

Shocked, he bellowed, "I've slept nearly eight hours? Why didn't you wake me?!"

"I told him not to," Eiblont said as he came in, "You didn't get more than a handful hours of sleep over the past few days and were constantly plotting to destroy the Shiksans. Your body won't hold up at this rate. Since you managed to sleep so soundly once in a while, I told Lieutenant-Colonel Anders not to wake you to let you rest.

"So far, things are going smoothly according to plan. Wolfang has disabled the three outposts near the dried river without firing a shot or suffering any casualties. What remains is how they deal with the patrol tents. Colonel Berklin and Line 1301 from Thundercrash 1st Folk have departed along the river.

"According to your instructions, all soldiers were given a twig to bite on to prevent making any sound and startling the enemy. Colonel Moriad's Line 1302 is ready and will depart immediately as well. You should go with them. They're armed with the new rifles and it's much safer that way. That's why I only had Anders wake you now. Get ready for your departure."

The river stretched five kilometres, which Claude spent two hours crossing. It was almost four in the morning, the darkest moment of the night. Beyond the river was a wide, expansive forest. Once the troops ahead entered it, there would no longer be any worry about enemy discovery. Apart from Shiksan logistics soldiers occasionally entering the forest for firewood, no patrols went there.

Bloweyk and a few members of Wolfang waited for Claude at the last outpost. He smelled a heavy stench of blood on them. It seemed that Bloweyk didn't heed his advice and personally entered the fray of battle.

Claude had warned him that as the one in charge of the most elite unit, Wolfang, he had to be responsible for planning and coordination and give first aid and other treatment in the case of emergency, unplanned situations instead of treating himself like a mere pawn. However, Bloweyk always took point because of his ability to cast spells. While he gained high renown in Wolfang, it affected the development of his leadership skills negatively.

Claude could only rub his nose and pretend he didn't smell a thing. "When Line 1304 passes through, you can spread out and attack the other Shiksan outposts. Eiblont will also have the scout tents from 2nd Folk coordinate with your attack. Keep it under half an hour. Day will break then and you must retreat. Follow behind us along our path of advance. I will leave someone behind to escort you."

Bloweyk and the few Wolfang troopers saluted silently. Claude only just noticed they wielded different kinds of crossbows. He knew that those weapons were created by Angelina with the use of the alchemical array on Bloweyk's request. It was no wonder he was confident he could take out the three tents at the outposts without firing a single shot.

Five days later, Claude reached the area in the vicinity of the main supply base with 1st Folk and was glad to see it mostly undefended. Two kilometres away were the gates of Cape Loducus City. It was wide open and Shiksan officers travelled in and out on horseback or in carriages from time to time.

"It looks like the supply convoy's officer we captured two days ago wasn't lying. They really don't know we're here. He confessed in his testimony that the two corps stationed here at the border of the northern mountains lost near a clan of troops and hopes that the supply base can ship them some iron pumpkins for defence. The supervisor of the base, however, pushed the shipment back a few days, citing a manpower shortage as the reason."

Berklin and the rest stood beside Claude and observed the base with their telescopes. They happened to bump into a 170-carriage Shiksan supply convoy two days ago with only a tribe of veterans escorting it.

Berklin's Line 1301 led the way and successfully ambushed the convoy. After all the stubborn veterans that resisted were killed, the vice logistics supervisor casually ordered the other soldiers to surrender and saved their lives.

After the battle, Berklin personally questioned the officer and found out that the convoy was actually transporting iron pumpkins to the camp near the border of the eastern mountains. It's said that the troops on the eastern front were in a stalemate against the theatre's troops and iron pumpkins were being used up immensely on a daily basis. Frontline command had sent three carrier eagles in a single day to demand the base in the rear to ship over 50 catapults and even more iron pumpkins to the frontlines as soon as possible.

The officer also volunteered that the base was defended by a folk. Apart from the veterans the ambush exterminated, two other convoys escorted each by a tribe of veterans went to the frontlines and didn't return. The rest of the troops were either drinking or gambling in the base without even bothering to defend it or close the main entrance at night.

The main reason for that was the officers of the defending folk holding positions of linesman and above were used to going to the nearby city for women and alcohol, often staying there overnight without returning. The officer himself was only put to the task of escorting the convoy because of an unlucky draw of lots, only to end up captured.

Claude put down the monocular and started to give orders to the officers of 1st Folk. "Let the troops rest and assemble tonight at eleven to storm the supply base!"

Chapter 444 - Witness to the Night Battle

As the tribesman of the garrison tribe defending Cape Loducus City, Lieutenant-Colonel Lemando was quite satisfied with his post. It was a great place to spend his latter years, with the scenic views and the pleasant climate. He had even planned to write to his relatives to get them to move here from their hometown to start a farm and let their family line continue in the colonies.

Lemando was 43 and had served in the Fochsian fleet, Goddess Verona, for 25 long years. He started as a mere shiphand and became a major of the kingdom's navy, a rather stellar achievement if he might say so himself. He was already a figure of legend in his small fishing hometown.

However, his luck ran out when he suffered a small-scale pirate skirmish two years ago, during which his left hand was severed from his body. He had no choice but to be discharged from the navy, and the ministry of the navy of Fochs wanted to reward this major that had contributed much to the kingdom. So, they appointed him to be the tribesman of the city guard tribe and promoted him to lieutenant-colonel.

However, he didn't understand why Fochs would involve itself in the war between Shiks and Aueras. Shiks was a superpower in Northern Freia whereas Aueras was a superpower in Eastern Freia. Even though Aueras was quite worn down throughout the five-year war, it was still a powerful nation Fochs couldn't afford to antagonise.

The only explanation he could think of was that the Shiksan gold keptons were far too tempting to the point that Fochs was willing to do the unprecedented act of leasing away a colony. Fortunately, the lease agreement stated clearly that apart from Cape Loducus City, the rest of the colony would be under Shiksan jurisdiction. Otherwise, Lemando would definitely lose his job within a year.

As there had been no precedent of leasing a colony out, he had no choice but to interact with the Shiksans on a daily basis like all the other officers. While Cape Loducus City was still under Fochsian jurisdiction, it still had to deal with the Shiksan troops in every affair apart from civilian life. Both sides often got into conflict from ruffling each other's feathers and the local officials were tearing their hairs off mediating between both sides.

Lemando's job was much simpler: the security of the city. If he ever met drunk Shiksans causing trouble in the city, all he needed to do was to subdue them and take them back to their camp. The way he saw it, the Shiksans were great targets which brought him great profit. Since their arrival, the brawls in the city's red-light district got far more frequent, causing prices for security to rise.

It was a normal night for Lemando. He was accustomed to going up the walls for another round of patrols before heading to sleep -- a luxury he didn't have while serving on the warships. On the wide expanse of the sea, the captain's night duty was to check on the others on night duty to make sure they were awake and alert. His presence also gave his men boundless courage before the terrifying, dark seas during the night.

Just as he was about to get off the walls after his patrols were mostly done, he heard gunshots out of the blue. The commotion wasn't loud. It was probably some drunk Shiksan that misfired a gun; such things happened a few times before. Lemando gazed at the camp in the distance, then froze.

Gunshots and explosions could be heard from the brightly lit Shiksan supply base. He could see silhouettes contrasting against the lights running around in chaos. Countless dark figures approached the base from the dark wilderness. Shots, explosions and cries of agony came from the base nonstop.

Lemando was more shocked about the rapid progress of the intruders. Thanks to the bonfire at the main entrance of the camp, he could see the figures swarm into the base, kneeling on one knee and shooting or drawing their bayonets to chase down escaping enemies. The Shiksans in the base didn't even seem able to muster any sort of effective resistance. Soon, the gunshots resonated closer and closer to the deepest parts of the camp.

Night attack! I'm actually witnessing one... Lemando shivered, not from fear, but from agitation. There was nothing more shocking than seeing a battle break out all of a sudden. It wasn't a drill; what was going on in the camp was real war. Countless lives were being claimed and blood flowed freely on the ground.

"Lieutenant-Colonel... What... what do we do? Will... will we be attacked by them as well?" A shuddering voice stunned Lemando out of his stupor.

"Quick! Shut the gates! We can't let anyone inside! Don't let anyone out either!" he ordered, "Light more bonfires on the walls. You have no firewood? Go collect some, quick! Put up more Fochsian flags so that anyone down there can clearly see! Fool! I'm trying to keep you alive! Don't forget that we're neutral in this war! Quick!"

With Lemando barking out his orders, his men got everything ready within an hour. Right after that, all the soldiers of the garrison tribe were woken up. They rushed to the walls with their muskets in hand and prepared to man the sentry cannons. Only after that could Lemando truly relax.

He didn't know whether the counter-pirate garrison tribe could resist the surprise attackers. He went over the same question on which his life depended countless times. By then, nothing could be heard from the base two kilometres away apart from cries and the occasional gunshot. The Shiksan base had been occupied and they were probably wrapping the whole thing up.

It truly was quick. They only spent little more than an hour to occupy such a large base defended by a whole folk of Shiksan troops. Lemando couldn't help but be impressed by the combat prowess of the attackers. Were they the so-called troops of the Aueran war theatre? Didn't they only have two local irregular corps? If the Aueran irregulars were that strong, it would be hard to tell who would emerge from this war the victor.

Lemando had seen the Shiksan troops himself and he believed that their officers were mediocre. All the high-ranking officers of the corps and the logistics officers were lustful, greedy gamblers. They even lined their pockets full of wealth through the lease. Lemando was all too aware that the spending of the Shiksans in the city was all covered by public funds. The officers themselves even came out with heavier wallets from those transactions.

Sometimes, Lemando felt that the lease price they offered the Shiksans was a little too ridiculously high, but he didn't think the Shiksan officers in charge of purchasing supplies would be even more egregious. They earned a 20-percent commission for their purchases to the point that one sheep cost as much as a whole cow under usual circumstances.

But no matter how he looked down on the Shiksan officers, he was nevertheless impressed with the quality of Shiksan soldiers. They were the finest soldiers he'd seen, though they were a little aged and didn't like to speak. However, they were incredibly obedient and performed perfectly during the drills. These troops would no doubt be considered elite in any other nation.

That was why Lemando believed no matter how incompetent the Shiksan officers were, their elite troops would still guarantee their victory in the colonial war. After all, they had ten standing corps with over 600 thousand troops. It was a powerful army by Freian standards enough to wipe out a small kingdom or duchy.

However, he came to understand something after seeing the battle for himself that night. The news the high-ranking Shiksans revealed in a banquet about their troubles at the frontlines were true. They weren't making things up to cover up their faults. The Aueran war theatre's forces were really much tougher than they were.

An argument broke out behind him.

"What's going on?" Lemando snapped back angrily and asked, only to find a large group of Shiksan officers that went into the city for entertainment coming to the walls to see whether they were being tricked and told the enemy was attacking. Some drunken ones were still cursing out loud for the garrison tribe's soldiers to open the gates for them to go back to check out on the base.

"Strip their military uniforms and let them up on the walls," Lemando said after some consideration. Since they were still on good terms with the Shiksans, he had best do what he could to appease them. He could let them on the walls, so long as they weren't wearing Shiksan uniforms.

"Lemando! What's the meaning of this?" A Shiksan officer pinned him to the wall after removing his uniform. He was so mad he was going insane and didn't even bother addressing Lemando by rank. It was an insult so serious that it could result in a duel to the death for one's honour.

However, Lemando didn't throw a fit over it. He merely gave the man a pitiful look. "I'm saving your life, fool! The enemy already conquered your supply base. If you show up on the walls in uniform, I'm certain that they will turn around and attack our city. Do you think our mere sub-thousand-man tribe can fight them off?"

The high-ranking officers on the wall were speechless. They were lustful and greedy, but not stupid. They were all too aware that Lemando spoke the truth. They turned to the direction of the supply base. Some of them looked nonstop with the telescopes they brought with them.

"Our... base was really... attacked?" a fat officer stammered. The base seemed rather calm and quiet with the occasional gunshot from time to time. The explosions had stopped, though the cries of pain and despair hadn't. The base was also better lit now, but not in the way orderly placed bonfires illuminated a place. A few tents were on fire, but nobody seemed to care enough to put it out.

Even though the base was quite bright, it was still hard to see through a telescope two kilometres away. The officers could more or less make out figures at the entrance of the base, but they couldn't see the uniform clearly.

"That's right, the attackers only spent a little more than one hour to conquer your base." Lemando's words sent chills down the other officers' spines. They knew full well that losing the base would impact their war effort greatly. There was no way they'd be able to explain themselves to Majid III.

A commotion suddenly broke out from the wilderness ahead of the city walls. It sounded like waves of people charging towards them. Lemando immediately ordered, "Everyone, get ready! Put out your slow matches and don't fire! Cannoneers, don't light the cannons!"

A group of people emerged from the darkness into the illuminated area. Lemando saw that they were a bunch of Shiksan troops that managed to escape from the base. They seemed really haggard with their helmets discarded and their uniforms untidy. Some only wore one shoe, while even more were completely unarmed. They breathed heavily with their tongues out at the wall and relaxed. Those who still had the energy cried for the gates to be opened.

"Ignore them! Don't open the gates!" Lemando barked.

A Shiksan officer charged at him and held him by the collar. "Why aren't you letting them in? They managed to escape! We can get intel about the enemy from them! Get the gates open now!"

The other soldiers of the garrison either reignited their slow matches and aimed at the Shiksan officers or readied their bayonets to fight one that held Lemando up with the bayonet. "Let go now and step back!"

Lemando waved them off with his left hand, or rather, what's left of it after it was replaced with a hook, to calm his men.

"Do you know what letting these soldiers in will mean? That will be akin to a declaration that our Fochsian garrison stands with Shiks and will fight your enemies. Our kingdom has already expressed that we're taking a neutral stance in this war and won't pick a side. If the enemy doesn't attack our city, we can't fight back. Provoking them is also strictly prohibited."

Lemando pointed his hook at the begging Shiksans. "If I let them in, it'll mean I'm on your side, and the enemy will be fully justified to attack us. The kingdom can't blame them for it either since we would be the first to go back on our declaration of neutrality.

"Satisfying your request will put the whole city at risk. The moment they attack us, the escaped soldiers and even you will either die or be taken captive. We'd also be criminals in our kingdom because we allowed our subjects to fall into Aueran hands. They'll be free to pillage and slaughter."

The Shiksan officer loosened his grip and slumped on the ground, before clutching his face as he broke into tears. They understood what Lemando meant. They were powerless to help the soldiers and could only listen to their pleas and cries.

Time passed just like that. The pleading of the soldiers outside the gates became hateful curses, but the guards up on the walls made no move to let them in.

"Let's wrap up. Have Colonel Berklin gather the escaped soldiers. The one in charge of the city's garrison has a sound mind and didn't let them in. We don't have justification for taking this city, so we'll spare them," Claude instructed.

"But General, the high-ranking Shiksan officers are inside. Are we going to let them off like that?" Moriad said with dissatisfaction.

"So what? Fochs has declared neutrality and the Shiksan deal is merely business. They won't bother with us no matter how badly the fight devolves. But if we attack the city for no reason, we'd essentially be declaring war against them. The Shiksans will be all too happy to see that happen.

"Even though the ground forces aren't anything about which to write home, they have a powerful navy that can cause lots of trouble for our ports and coasts. There's no need for us to make a strong foe at sea during such a time. Also, it doesn't matter if the Shiksan officers aren't captured. I won't mind letting Shiks keep officers as incompetent as those."

Since Claude already made the decision, Moriad didn't say anything else. He had an orderman pass the message to Berklin, who was lying in hiding near the city walls.

Seeing the Thundercrash soldiers that appeared soundlessly and out of nowhere, the Shiksan survivors begged and pleaded to deaf ears as they were dragged away as captives. Lemando felt a chill on his back. Reaching to touch it, he noticed he was drenched in cold sweat.

Chapter 445 - Awards and Armaments

"General, Cape Loducus City's mayor and the tribesman of the garrison came to visit early in the morning. They've been waiting for close to an hour," Anders reported after entering Claude's room, only to find Claude yawning as he got out of bed.

"Huh? What are they here for?"

Claude only managed to get some shuteye around four at night. He simply found an empty tent in camp and a rather clean single bed before going to sleep. He checked out the skies and found that it was around nine in the morning. After asking Anders, the accurate time was twenty-three past nine. In other words, those two had come around eight in the morning. What could be so urgent for them to do so?

He gave his face a casual wipe and finished the warm milk Anders had an orderman serve. Then, he asked where that milk came from, to which Anders replied that the Shiksan base had three hebik milk cows. The captives said it was reserved for high-ranking officers only. They usually drank lots of alcohol during the night and woke up with an uncomfortable stomach, which some milk would help greatly relieve.

Claude was speechless as he wondered whether the Shiksan officers were there to fight a war or go on vacation, for their base to even go so far to keep milk-producing cows. Even the first lieutenant-general of the kingdom's theatre like Claude had nothing but dry rations... the same rations the bare recruit grunt had. The only preferential treatment he got was to be free to have as much red tea as he pleased. He would have some prepared for him during every rest stop.

Perhaps that difference between him and the Shiksan officers was the reason he was in their supply base while they could only hide within the city. Claude didn't overthink it and finished the jerky sandwich he was served in quick bites. He gargled, adjusted his uniform and got Anders to take him to see the mayor and the smart tribesman that didn't give him any reason to attack the city.

"By the way, have Colonel Moriad's Line 2 and Colonel Dyavid's Line 3 departed?" Claude asked.

"Yes, around six in the morning. Nobody in the city was alerted."

Line 1302 and Line 1303 didn't stay behind in the supply base to rest and left immediately, mainly to lie in ambush waiting for possible enemy reinforcements. Only after the base was occupied did they realise that all the carrier eagles in the base had been sent away by the enemy signallers.

While they didn't know whether the dead signallers sent out any call for reinforcement, Claude didn't dare to become careless and had the two lines go to their designated positions. It would only take half a day for a carrier eagle to fly from the northern to the eastern mountain area. The enemy troops, if they are sent, might arrive the following night.

Cape Loducus was covered in scenic flatlands, so ambushing required special preparation and disguises. If they were picked out by the enemy, all would be for naught. So, Claude had no choice but to have Moriad and Dyavid go through a little more trouble to head to their stations earlier for the preparation that needed to be done to eliminate another Shiksan reinforcement unit.

The Fochsian visitors in the main tent didn't seem impatient after waiting near an hour. Instead, they enjoyed the red tea they were served as they observed Thundercrash's soldiers from afar and silently evaluated the difference between the theatre's troops and the Shiksans'.

"They are really orderly. Look there. The two soldiers walk shoulder-to-shoulder with their arm and leg movements more or less synchronised. Those five over there are walking in single file and they're separated by a similar distance. Gentlemen, they're in their own camp. If it were the Shiksans, it wouldn't be uncommon to see brawls and soldiers making merry. It's even a common sight across the army camps of the continent.

"However, that is completely absent here. Even though they managed to conquer the enemy base, they seem really relaxed. There's not a shred of tension on their faces. It's obvious that the base has come under their full control. That's why they can still maintain order under such circumstances. It must be that long-term training has drilled the discipline into their bones. I have to admit this is the most orderly and disciplined unit I've ever seen. It's no wonder even the veteran Shiksans aren't their match."

The mayor, on the other hand, didn't seem too happy about the praises Lemando offered Thundercrash. "They're only soldiers of the army. They don't hold a candle at all against our navy when it comes to discipline and character."

In the United Kingdom of Fochs, the navy always held a much higher status than the army. Though, the so-called army they were referring to was actually their local garrison units. Lemando shook his head and argued, "That's not the same. Our kingdom's navy is indeed the strongest among other Freian nations. Part of it is due to our bloodline. We are children of the sea, after all. The other part is thanks to our ancestors' legacy.

"Our ancestors have been sailing the seas since a thousand years ago in their small boats and passed on all the information they know about seafaring to us. That's why they managed to form such a formidable navy. Our kingdom's fleet holds discipline and obedience as the most paramount virtue. Everything, from clothing to food, is tightly regulated on the ships.

"But it was borne more out of necessity than anything else. The risks at sea are ever changing and never predictable. No matter if we are the captain or a normal shiphand, we have to always stand united to face the dangers of the sea. The lessons and experience of our ancestors teach us how to deal with those dangers easily.

"The sea is endlessly vast and one ship is only so big, and there's only so many people on board. We have no choice but to get used to living under a strict code. We all understand that it's because of the code that we are able to safely return to our families That's also why our navy's warriors have the best character and discipline."

They all knew the reason Lemando transferred from the navy to the garrison force, so nobody argued with his facts.

Lemando shook his head and continued, "Compared to our navy, our army is a mess. Nobody supervises or cares about discipline or training. The position of commanders in our army is merely one to retire into. It's not held with nearly as high esteem as that of a captain.

"Our army more resembles the garrison of other nations of Freia and they only deal with petty drunks or criminals. When we saw the Shiksan veterans, we thought that perhaps they were the most elite force on the continent, only to be quickly corrected when we witnessed the battle last night.

"I've never imagined the Shiksans whom we thought of as elite wouldn't even last an hour against this kind of force and have their base taken just like that. This is something I've witnessed personally. Everything that happened before me was the real deal and it made me understand what a truly elite army should look like.

"Now that I'm here, I finally know the reason. Our esteemed Lord of the Admiralty, Duke Jabordaff, once said that a disciplined force is inevitably tough. I believe this applies to both armies and navies. The Shiksans, in comparison to the Aueran theatre's troops, look no more than a bunch of hooligans."

"But Lieutenant-Colonel, didn't you notice that the number of war-theatre troops in this base is rather low?" one local official reminded.

Lemando grimaced and said, "I've long noticed it. I estimate their size to be around two lines. We know that the Shiksans have a folk stationed in the supply base. If the theatre only needs two lines to exterminate a whole folk of Shiksans, then I can only raise my evaluation of them even further..."

Claude quickly entered the tent, and the Fochsian officials and tribesman stopped chattering. They warmly welcomed Claude's arrival and loudly congratulated him for a dashing victory worthy of being included in the Freian history books.

Claude waved them away. "Gentlemen, I understand your kingdom's neutral stance, so I promise that our troops won't infringe on your nation's sovereignty. Please be direct with me about the purpose of your visit. I'm far too busy, so I hope you understand. We only just occupied the Shiksan base and there's much I have to attend to."

The officials were there for three matters. The first was they hoped traffic in and out of the city could remain open as much of the civilian livelihood depended on being able to leave the city. While they went home into the city at night, they still had to go out to tend to the orchards and farmsteads and fish at the cape. Thundercrash's checkpoint a few hundred metres away from the city effectively kept the civilians inside from leaving.

The second matter had to do with the city folk who were hired by the Shiksans as chefs or servants. Usually, they worked within the base, so the officials wanted to know whether they came to any harm and requested Claude whether he could release them.

The final matter was the matter of setting up stalls. When the Shiksans ran the base, some city folk would set up their stalls at the plot of empty land outside the base's entrance for the convenience of the Shiksan soldiers who couldn't enter the city to buy things. Some even set up brothels there and business was good. The city folk didn't care who occupied the base, so long as they were allowed to continue doing business there.

The first matter was easy to settle for Claude. He assented to their request to relax the restrictions on travel to allow the citizens to go about their lives without interruption. As for the second matter, he explained that the soldiers of Thundercrash were highly disciplined and would never kill innocents. Even while fighting in the night, they only shot at people wearing Shiksan uniforms instead of firing at any moving target.

For the last matter, Claude smiled and said the troops of Thundercrash weren't Shiksan soldiers. He advised them to not set up stalls outside of the base as there was simply no business to be done. Naturally, they were free to try if so pleased, but the disciplined troops wouldn't leave the base just to buy things.

While the Fochsian officials didn't really believe that claim, they still had great praises for the discipline of Thundercrash, even calling them the paragons that all troops should aspire to emulate. So, they came with gifts and kind greetings along with a round of meat and wine. Apart from cows, goats, fruits, fine flour and wine, there was also 20 thousand gold crowns' and gold keptons. While it was called an award out of admiration, everyone knew the true nature of the gift.

Claude had two reasons he wanted to take Cape Loducus City. The first was that the Shiksan high-ranking officers were still there. Second, the Shiksans had an amount of two million gold keptons stored in the city's united bank. During the inventory making after the conquest of the base, it was discovered that only around 400 thousand gold keptons remained within.

Berklin interrogated a Shiksan officer and found out about the two million gold keptons stored within the bank of the city that was used to pay the salaries of the troops and the bonuses of the officials. It was much safer than storing such a sum in their base warehouse. At the very least, it won't disappear like certain goods usually did.

So, Berklin came up with the idea of intentionally letting a few hundred captive Shiksans escape in hopes that the city would let them in. That way, Thundercrash would be able to rightfully attack and conquer the city. Apart from getting the Shiksan officers, they could also get the Shiksan funds for themselves.

It was unfortunate the quick wit of Lemando to refuse to open the gate spared the city of that fate. The 20 thousand crowns they sent was a clear message for Claude to not have the city in his sights and let things pass.

Claude laughed and changed the 20-thousand figure on the list of gifts to 100 thousand. "Our corps needs to make sure each soldier gets at least a crown as a bonus, right? The bonus also increases based on rank, so I think this figure is much more realistic. Naturally, I won't force your city to pay up. I know the Shiksan officers are still held up in there and they have a savings account with their military funds deposited.

"Perhaps you can go negotiate with them about it. If they aren't willing to pay up, you can tell them that due to your kingdom's stance on neutrality, Cape Loducus City cannot host troops from either side. So, you can chase them out if they don't pay. I will welcome them outside the city. As for how much they will pay to remain inside, I don't care. I only want this figure!"

Every official stared at him with their jaws dropped, thinking that Claude conquered the Shiksan base, wiped out the Shiksan troops, and now wanted the Shiksans to pay his soldiers their bonuses!

But soon, a few officials understood Claude's implications. It was indeed a good chance to make some earnings. The high-ranking Shiksan officers in the city were nothing but fat livestock waiting to be culled for everyone to have a good meal. After some hushed whispers, they unanimously agreed they would pay that amount to award the troops of Thundercrash so their trip wouldn't be for nought.

Since the secret agreement was struck, Anders came in to report that Berklin would help release the captive Fochsian workers. The name list matched the one the officials produced, save for two unlucky ones that got hit by stray bullets. After first aid, their lives were stable. They would only have to spend three gruelling months recovering and lots of money for medical costs.

And so, the officials of the city left. However, Claude stopped Lemando and asked him a question before everyone else. He wondered if the Fochsian army was interested in purchasing the arms found in the Shiksan base to replace their own.

Claude had seen through his telescope yesterday that the Fochsians didn't pay their army much heed and armed them with outdated muskets. They seemed to be akin to the Aubass Mark 1 developed near three decades ago.

While the Shiksan arms weren't a match for the Aubass Mark 3, it was still an updated weapon with precision-aiming capabilities. It was easily a generation or two better than what the Fochsian garrison used. Since the Shiksan weapons weren't of any use to the theatre and Claude couldn't take them all away, the only thing he could do with them was to burn them to destroy them.

So, he might as well give it a shot. Since he couldn't take their wealth by conquering the city, he could always strike a deal with them.

Chapter 446 - Unexpected Developments

Looking at the boxes of Shiksan-produced arms and ammunition being carted out by the carriages to be transported to Cape Loducus City, Berklin scratched his head and looked around.

He quietly shifted to Claude's side and asked, "General, I just don't get it. The whole United Kingdom of Fochs doesn't even have a corps in their army. I don't think they have 60 thousand men combined. Why did small local officials buy enough arms for 200 thousand men? It's a deal worth a million crowns! Can they really make a decision like that?"

In fact, even Claude himself didn't imagine the officials of the city would be so daring. Initially, all he wanted was to sell those arms they obtained to the local garrison for some cash.

It was something to be disposed of and burnt up anyway, so it didn't matter how many were sold. All he wanted was to give the five incoming Shiksan corps trouble. No Shiksan would feel good about seeing their arms in the hands of the city garrison troops.

However, when the officials heard Claude's proposition to Lemando, their eyes glowed before they immediately dragged the lieutenant-colonel away. After a quick discussion, they gave him a surprising response.

If Claude was willing to sell Shiksan arms, they would buy as many as there were for sale. Money wouldn't be a problem, since the city had a united bank that could be the guarantor for the arms deal.

Naturally, Claude wouldn't be the one taking the loan. Instead, Lemando and the officials would be, which was an even further shock for Claude. However, it didn't take him long to figure out what those officials were planning. They were trying to make an even larger sum of money, and the ones they were going to make it off would naturally be the five Shiksan corps that still hadn't arrived at Cape Loducus.

Armaments were considered consumables in war. The fact that the Shiksan base had enough arms for over 200 thousand men stored up was a testament to how quickly they wore out on the battlefield. It was probably prepared to replace damages and losses for all 600 thousand men. It was a common convention to have a third of the total number of arms as extras to be swapped out if needed.

Now that the base was conquered by Thundercrash during the night attack, all Shiksan arms had fallen into Aueran hands. They could already delist them from their inventory immediately.

That meant that once the other five corps arrived at Cape Loducus, the Shiksan king would have to prepare yet another batch of weapons to be shipped to Nubissia from the kingdom far away so that they would have some replacements ready. The manpower and costs to ship them would propel the price of those weapons far beyond their original value.

And that was where the Fochsian officials came in. After purchasing the Shiksan arms from Claude for a low price, they could resell them to the Shiksans for a much higher price to earn a big profit and multiply their investment fewfold.

They weren't worried that the Shiksans wouldn't bite either. To them, buying the arms back from the Fochsians would be far cheaper than producing new ones and shipping them to Nubissia. They would also save time and free Seaking and the Alliance's navy from having to make extra trips to transport the arms.

The other reason for the purchase was rather hard to bring up, though everyone knew the implications. If Shiks didn't pay up, Fochs would definitely auction off the weapons across the whole of Freia. By then, the other nations would find out about the glorious loss Shiks suffered, making them the butt of everyone's joke once more.

The smaller duchies without any ability to produce their own firearms would also be interested in purchasing the Shiksan weapons. Fochs didn't have the slightest worry that the weapons wouldn't sell. They needed at most a little more time and trouble finding the right buyer.

Either way, the deal was a huge transaction both for Claude and the officials. For a million crowns, they would get weapons meant for 200 thousand troops at a nearly half-discounted price.

The weapons were useless to the theatre anyway, so getting cash for them would always be a net plus, which the theatre could definitely use to mend its financial holes. It would be a waste not to go through with the deal in the first place. Claude didn't want the theatre to owe a huge debt for funding the war after they won, after all. The more he could earn, the better. In the end, the matter of the deal took him a long two days to deal with.

An official from the city walked towards Claude. He was the head treasurer of the city, Balenport. At his age of 54, he was one of the main leads of that arms deal.

He was in charge of handing over the cash to the united bank in the city. Now that the arms were mostly shipped over to them, Claude guessed that he was probably there to bid him farewell.

It turned out as he predicted. The deal had gone rather smoothly for both sides. Claude had approved the deal lightning fast and the officials of the city didn't bother to haggle too much either. They were going to profit either way, and it wouldn't have been possible without the arms Claude sold them in the first place. Every party had something to gain, so they didn't bother trying to demand more freebies.

Even so, Balenport was still unwilling to give up on something. He asked Claude whether he could sell them some Shiksan-produced catapults and iron pumpkins at a high price.

Claude shook his head once more, refusing the request for the nth time. The muskets, cannons, ammunition, bayonets, uniforms and flasks were fine to sell away, save for the iron pumpkins and the catapults -- he only permitted the sale of some ten catapults and a hundred iron pumpkins to Lemando to improve the city's defences. The rest would be taken away by the theatre.

While Fochs was famed for its strong navy, its military industries were rather underdeveloped. The weapons and equipment produced were mostly adapted for marine use and ship handling. As the nations of Freia were busy ripping off the mortars, the Fochsian navy realised that it was a weapon fit for use both on land and at sea. But due to their weak technology, the mortars they made were inferior to those of other nations in both range and power.

It was clear that Balenport really wanted his kingdom to improve, so he immediately set his sights on the Shiksan 'mortars'. If a deal could be struck, his name and contribution would be brought up to those in power. It was too bad he initially asked to buy them at market price, which didn't move Claude one bit. Even raising the price didn't work, so he returned dejectedly.

Now having understood the reason behind the deal, Berklin looked at the old, leaving treasurer and clicked his tongue. He spat on the ground and cussed, "Dastardly merchant!"

Claude seemed to be in deep thought before he asked, "Has there been any news from Moriad's side?"

"Nope."

It was rather weird. They should've sent some news back yesterday. According to the original plans, the three folks of Shiksan troops stationed to defend the northern mountains' border should send at least one folk over as reinforcements upon hearing about the attack on the base. According to precedent, they should've fallen into Moriad and Dyavid's ambush already. Did the enemy really not receive any word about the attack on the supply base after all?

Claude seemed to be at a slight loss.

"We'll leave after having lunch. Per our plans, your line will lead the way and Colonel Jadewok's line will be escorting the captives and the logistics units," he said.

They had initially planned to leave the base tomorrow noon, but since the Fochsians were so industrious in helping with the shipment for the arms deal and managed to complete it that quickly, he decided to leave half a day earlier.

"What about the injured captives?" Berklin asked.

There were roughly eight thousand casualties in the night battle. More than 20 thousand Shiksans were also captured. After conquering the base and checking in the captives, they discovered that the folk of Shiksans that defended the base weren't the former veterans who had once been taken captive. Most of the men were transfers from Shiksan local garrisons that formerly belonged to the rebellious nobles.

In fact, of the 300 thousand Shiksan captives the new nobility took to develop the new Aueran prefectures, not all of them were still present when they were released. Some tens of thousands of them died in the labour camps. In the end, their numbers fell short of one folk for a full five corps.

So, Majid III simply transferred the private soldiers of the nobles that surrendered to round that number up. As the soldiers of the nobles thought themselves to be so much better and looked down on the captive veterans, conflict often broke out between the two in camp. In the end, they had no choice but to station the folk of new troops to defend the base. At the very least, they wouldn't be worsening Shiks' reputation on the frontlines.

All in all, Claude was rather fortunate to happen to bump into that bunch of hooligans, resulting in him taking less than an hour to take out a 30-thousand-strong folk to occupy the base. Had the ones defending it been the released veteran captives, Claude and his men would no doubt have been in for a gruelling fight that would easily cost them a few times more in casualties.

After the night battle, more than six thousand Shiksan soldiers required medical attention, whereas less than two thousand were killed by the mortar bombardment. The soldiers that survived surrendered quickly, so there were around 23 thousand able-bodied captives.

Berklin wanted to know whether to let the injured travel along with the uninjured captives or put them out of their misery instead of wasting resources to heal them. It was a line of thought common among soldiers of this era.

Claude shook his head at the notion. While he could close a blind eye to killings during a battlefield cleanup, he couldn't do it now. "Use the medical supplies we got from the base to treat the injured soldiers and settle them down far away from the base. When we leave, we'll be setting this base alight. As for the injured soldiers, we'll leave them in Cape Loducus City's hands. After all, they're housing Shiksan officers there who still have more than enough military funds. They should be the ones paying their medical costs."

At one in the afternoon, Lemando saw the troops of Thundercrash approach with countless stretchers before laying them down on a piece of flat land some 500 metres away. He used the telescope to see what they were up to, only to find that the ones on the stretchers were injured Shiksan troops, covered affectionately by a military-use blanket.

After the thousands of injured soldiers were laid down, the soldiers of Thundercrash left. Soon, the initial embers at the supply base started to burn and spread like wildfire thanks to the fuel scattered all around the base. Smoke wafted up into the skies nonstop. Lemando could almost feel the sheer heat the base radiated into its surroundings from the walls of the city.

It was no wonder they carted the injured troops so far away. Since they burnt the base, they were probably going to retreat. Lemando called for a nearby soldier and instructed, "Tell the Shiksan officers that the Aueran theatre has retreated and set the supply base on fire. They also left a few thousand injured soldiers to them which require immediate treatment. Otherwise, the slightest bit of rain or cold would kill them."

It took Claude and the rest three days to reach the spot where Moriad and Dyavid's line laid in ambush while escorting the 23 thousand Shiksan captives. Regrettably, the two lines hid for five days and nights, but the Shiksan reinforcements didn't show. Troop morale was at new lows and many soldiers were getting fevers and diarrhoea from eating dry rations and drinking cold water nonstop in that span of time.

"Set up camp to rest. We're leaving in two days." Claude called off the ambush as it was clear the enemy wouldn't be sending any reinforcements. So much time had passed, and even the enemy would know that sending troops over there was nothing but suicide.

Yet, it still didn't make the whole situation any less weird. Did the enemy really predict there would be an ambush there and not bother to send any reinforcements at all? It didn't quite make sense. The supply base contained the arms and food they would be using on the battlefield. No matter what, they had to show some care for it being taken. Sending a folk to take it back was a normal response.

"Any eagle messages from General Eiblont?" Claude asked the chief signaller.

"No, General." The chief signaller explained that they were deep in enemy territory and could only send letters to Eiblont one way without receiving a response.

That was the limitation of carrier eagles as a form of communication. The eagles couldn't locate a moving unit and could only recognise its destination based on the unique banners flown nearby. Flying one's own banners in enemy territory was one of the biggest taboos one could commit. The eagles would flow past one banner to look for the next all the while risking falling into enemy hands and leaking crucial information.

So, all Claude could do was to single handedly inform Eiblont of his progress without knowing what happened at the northern and eastern mountain borders.

"Then, continue to send Eiblont messages. Inform him of the whereabouts of our camp so he can send someone over to report on developments on other fronts."

After two days of rest, the morale of the two lines recovered somewhat. Most of the sick soldiers also recovered. Claude prepared to leave for the northern mountains' borders once more. After assessing the situation, he would have to decide whether to attack the three Shiksan folks stationed there.

The journey initially planned to be completed in three days took five instead thanks to delays caused by the 20 thousand captives and the sheer amount of supplies they were carting away. Fortunately, they received a messenger from Eiblont a day after their departure with two reports to make. The first was the three Shiksan folks had initially sent reinforcements, only to have them called back urgently not long after they left.

The other was about the eastern mountain front. The Shiksans there suddenly retreated, much to Birkin's frustration. He didn't think they would abandon the first defence line without anyone noticing. He only discovered it a day later and sent his men to pursue them, only to be ambushed by the Shiksans himself. The nikancha that were at the forefront of the chase suffered incredible losses.

However, Birkin managed to hold back the Shiksan main force with Monolith. The former tried to leave the mountains as quickly as it could while the latter aggressively tried to stop its 'guests' from leaving. The two sides were in a messy battle in the eastern mountains, tangling each other up.

Chapter 447 - Attack Mishap

After being informed of the current situation, Claude could only smile in resignation. It was obvious that the Shiksan commander had seen through his plans. That was why the Shiksans mounted a full retreat at the eastern front and gave up on the whole eastern mountain area they conquered. The three folks of Shiksan troops stationed at the border of the northern mountains also called back the reinforcements they sent and were holed up in defence.

Now, Claude only had two choices. The first was to go on with his original plans to work with Eiblont and attack the three Shiksan folks in a pincer attack. The other was to send a line of troops to escort the 20 thousand captives away while he headed east with his three lines to take out the retreating Shiksans.

The first choice was less risky. At the very least, he wouldn't lose the victory he gained. The same, however, couldn't be said for the second option. Nobody knew whether the three folks stationed at the northern border would take the initiative to attack and save the captives. It would be really difficult to transport the captives to rendezvous with Eiblont with only a single line. Additionally, even if Claude were to lead three lines of troops to pursue the retreating Shiksans in the east, there was a good chance he wouldn't be able to keep the enemy trapped within the mountains.

Since the Shiksan commander had figured him out, he should long be prepared for Claude, should he choose to go there. Eiblont only had a folk of troops at the northern border and it would be really difficult for him to be able to apply any pressure on three Shiksan folks. If Claude went to the eastern front, the three Shiksan folks might be able to cause trouble from his rear. If his supply line ended up cut off, he would be under greater threat.

Another negative factor was how the ambush set by Moriad and Dyavid's lines failed, leading to more than nine thousand soldiers wasting five days in the wild. While two days of rest allowed them to recover somewhat, Claude doubted that they would be able to hold out if he took them to the eastern front.

In the end, he decided it would be better to have only gotten one bird than to let a hundred escape. He gave up on going to the eastern front and decided to attack the three Shiksan folks per his original plan. As long as he achieved that, he would've eradicated two standing corps including the folk he took out at the Shiksan supply base. It would be a huge blow to the Shiksans and their momentum.

Having made his decision, he informed Eiblont per carrier eagle to attack the Shiksan strongholds to hold them back. At the same time, he could have the tens of nikancha tribes come under his wings to bolster their numbers and make the Shiksans think the theatre has launched a full-on attack.

But three days later, Claude found that the battle didn't progress well when he met up with Eiblont by circling around the Shiksan bases through the dried-out river. Eiblont's Thundercrash 2nd Folk and the 16 nikancha tribes breached the first Shiksan defence line, but the enemy countered in a melee using their numbers and managed to chase the attackers out of the newly occupied line.

"Our attacking forces suffered rather huge losses," Eiblont said with a pained look, "2nd Folk sent in four lines to attack in rotation, but only three came back. We lost 7 of the 16 nikancha tribes too. Now, they refuse to come with us on the offence. Mortar consumption is also really huge. Our stocks are no longer able to support us in another large-scale attack."

The failed attack wasn't Eiblont's fault. He led his men to attack the Shiksans' first defence line during the night with mortars and caught them off guard. With only small casualties, he managed to take over the first defence line. It was a flawless move both in leadership and tactics.

But Eiblont had underestimated the stubborn fighting spirit of the Shiksan veterans as well as their desire for vengeance. Additionally, the Shiksans retreated to a point with higher elevation. Eiblont and his men didn't notice it at first when they were attacking the first defence line. It was only after taking it that they noticed the second defence line was on average three metres higher than the first. The enemy cannons could easily cover the entire area of the first defence line.

Usually, there were two kinds of camps, namely, permanent and temporary ones. Permanent camps referred to those where troops are expected to stay for a long, indefinite period of time while temporary ones referred to impromptu ones built during wartime. Oftentimes, permanent camps had walls and trenches as well as security outposts and lookout towers, whereas temporary camps only had simple trenches or simple log walls at best. They would also be built without much consideration for the terrain.

Both types of camps did have the similarity of needing a defence perimeter, within which the soldiers lived, separated according to their units. Defensive camp strongholds were usually considered permanent camps, but the area they occupied was a few times more than normal permanent camps. It was a composite strategic location that housed troops and defended the area at the same time. It was also where troops could be deployed from.

From the outside, the Shiksan defensive camp in which their three folks resided seemed no different from a normal permanent camp. Their outer wall was similarly made from logs and clay. There were lookout towers every 100 metres and three trenches outside the log walls.

According to the scouts at the front, they could see from their higher vantage point that the Shiksans built another wood-clay-composite wall 300 metres behind their log wall. Between the two walls were five more trenches.

When Eiblont attacked with the folk, he had them sweep the lookout towers first. Using Line 1303, the line armed with new rifles which Claude left behind, they managed to mount a few successful interceptions and ambushes against the Shiksans who were sent out. After that, the Shiksans only dared to stay within their camp without approaching the border of the northern mountains.

Since the Shiksans' hurried retraction of the reinforcements they almost sent out, they held up within their camp and didn't even respond to the harassment attacks Eiblont mounted on the base. No matter how the soldiers of Thundercrash provoked them, they didn't come back out to counterattack. It was as if they would remain within until their deaths.

Then, Eiblont received Claude's eagle message that had him attack the Shiksan camp head on to draw their attention. After Claude came with 1st Folk, they would have the Shiksans in a pincer attack. So, he laid out his plan and launched a night attack the day after he received the message to take the first defence line.

However, he felt as if he shook the hornet's nest in taking the defence line. When he was attacking the first defence line, the Shiksans behaved like meek turtles and didn't even bother to respond to the harassment. But the moment it fell, they suddenly seemed invigorated and counterattacked nonstop.

It was only when 2nd Folk's soldiers charged into the first Shiksan trench that they discovered a huge problem. The first trench was much lower than the second, which meant soldiers could shoot out from the first trench, but not in towards the second while prone. They had to kneel or stand, which made them easy targets.

From the outside, the distance between the first Shiksan wall and the second didn't seem significant, save for the minor elevation. Yet, the soldiers and the nikancha fighters suffered huge losses in the following five trenches. They couldn't hit the enemy at all and were instead easily shot down.

For the trained soldiers of Thundercrash, it wasn't a huge issue. They quickly mounted an effective counterattack thanks to their experienced superiors and calmed their fellow nikancha down. After taking the first two trenches, they decided to attack the third. However, the Shiksans had planned to use the five trenches as a buffer in the first place to keep the attackers held up so their superior numbers could retake the initiative.

The Shiksans had many catapult-like launchers set up behind their second defensive wall, whose range easily covered the fourth and fifth trenches. They had catapults for every sector. The nikancha and the Auerans who weren't aware of that were dealt a great blow as they attacked the last two trenches. Near a thousand were killed by the Shiksan mortars.

Back then, EIblont led the attack personally and almost lost his life from the sudden cannon bombardment. It was only thanks to his alert guard leader for pulling him into a nearby trench that spared the theatre from having to lose one of its five leads. However, Eiblont's adjutant and two guards weren't that lucky and were killed by ten or so fist-sized round shots.

It was his personal experience that made Eiblont understand the Shiksans had complete control of the area between the first and second wall. When he decided to go onto the battlefield, his different uniform immediately caught the eye of the Shiksan scouts. Thankfully, not the whole 300-metre distance between the walls could be reached by the iron pumpkins. Otherwise, Eiblont would've been met with an even greater surprise.

Even so, the Shiksans still managed to cobble together more than ten light-infantry cannons to attack Eiblont's group, though he still did manage to escape alive. Only by personally going to the battlefield was he reminded of how dire the situation there looks, and that his men wouldn't be able to take the fourth and fifth trenches at all.

In terms of equipment, the soldiers of Thundercrash armed with Sonia 591s and Aubass Mark 3s had the superior firing range. When they finally got over the obstacle of height, they posed a threat to the Shiksans at the final two trenches.

However, the Shiksans didn't bother to get into a shootout with them at all. They easily gave up on the last two trenches and retreated behind the second wall without even poking their heads out, rendering the precision-shooting tactics of Thundercrash useless.

The last two trenches were in range of the iron pumpkins, and if Thundercrash was to attack the second wall, they'd have to take those trenches first. Only by taking the two trenches could they use their own mortars to destroy the catapulting devices behind the walls and turn the two trenches safe.

The Shiksans knew that all too well and allowed Thundercrash to take the fourth trench. With their lookouts from high up, they could easily spot the enemy and signal where the iron pumpkins should be thrown. The attackers that made it to the fourth trench couldn't remain huddled together to minimise their losses.

When Eiblont noticed that, he did something even more sinister. He sent the nikancha forwards in hopes that the Shiksans would waste their iron pumpkins on them. It didn't take long for the Shiksans to realise that, however, so they stopped paying attention to the nikancha and continued to launch their iron pumpkins just as the soldiers of Thundercrash were about to gather.

So, Eiblont wanted to have the nikancha dress up as Thundercrash's men, but they were no fools and didn't believe the reason he gave that wearing the same uniform would make them seem more intimidating to the enemy and refused to switch.

All that happened when they were in the fourth trench. For the fifth, the Shiksans had light-infantry cannons ready with scattershot loaded to seal off the entryway to the fifth trench. They would let small numbers of enemies in, but seal off the entrance with the cannons if the enemy sent more men. Thundercrash's soldiers were unable to approach the fifth trench at all.

So, Eiblont tried to have his men enter the fifth trench in small numbers before blasting the catapults behind the second wall with their own mortars, only to find that it wouldn't work out as he wanted it to. The Shiksans left a small number of veterans inside the fifth trench and any soldier sent into it would be taken out effortlessly.

On that point, Eiblont couldn't help mentioning the Shiksan veterans' fighting spirit. He found them too tough and stubborn. More importantly, they didn't fear death at all and fought ferociously. Their ferociousness extended both to their enemy and to themselves. During the final confrontation of the melee, Eiblont often saw the Shiksan veterans charge suicidally towards the Aueran defence line with a lit iron pumpkin in hand. It caused the nikancha troops on the left flank to eventually falter and caused the area to fall into Shiksan hands.

Just because Thundercrash took the first three trenches didn't mean they held the initiative on the battlefield while the Shiksans hid and defended. Actually, Thundercrash 2nd Folk only occupied a small area of the Shiksan camp. As they continued their attack, they also had to be wary of attacks from their flanks.

In the three days Eiblont took to take the first wall, they had been fighting nonstop. While they were able to gain the upper hand with the new rifles and mortars during the first two days, the Shiksans gathered their troops on the third and flanked Thundercrask's men all of a sudden.

The Shiksans fought from higher elevation and advanced smoothly through the trenches with their wooden boards laid over them. Soon, they swarmed into the third trench and engaged the Auerans and nikancha in a melee.

Thundercrash was able to hold the enemy off initially, but as their casualties grew, the number of the Shiksan troops also grew. The three lines at the front were no longer able to hold on. When the Shiksan veterans started charging at them with lit iron pumpkins, the nikancha completely lost their hold on their positions.

Eiblont said that he didn't know why the Shiksans were trying to take the trenches back to the point they didn't care about their losses. It was only after seeing Claude that he came to understand that the Shiksans also noticed Claude's units' arrival. To prevent suffering even heavier losses from both sides, they had to reclaim their lost territory and heavily wound Eiblont's men. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to face Claude's attack fully.

"How many casualties are there?" Claude never would've imagined this was how it'd turn out, nor did he think the enemy would choose to hold the fight at a stronghold as effective as this.

"The lightly injured number around ten thousand, almost a third of 2nd Folk's men. Near six thousand died in battle. That's why I said we lost a line." Eiblont seemed rather crestfallen. It was the largest loss since Thundercrash's formation, and they lost ground to the Shiksans despite taking those losses. The morale of 2nd Folk was rather heavily impacted.

"The nikancha also suffered around ten thousand casualties, seven thousand among them being deaths. That is mainly due to them not saving the injured after they devolved into chaos and escaped. Most of the injured left behind were put to death," Eiblont said, shaking his head.

"Now, they blame my orders and accuse me of intentionally sending them to their deaths. They believe taking the enemy camp is Thundercrash's duty while they should just remain and defend the mountain strongholds. That's why they refuse to cooperate with Thundercrash and are no longer willing to continue the attack with us..."

Chapter 448 - Heated Battle at Camp

Even though Eiblont's 2nd Folk suffered heavy losses from attacking the camp defended by the three Shiksan folks, it was nevertheless a good opportunity in Claude's eyes. The reason was simple: 2nd Folk lost more than ten thousand men. Same goes for the nikancha. So, how many did the Shiksans lose?

Why would the Shiksans fight without regard for their casualties to drive Eiblont out of the part of the camp they conquered upon hearing of 1st Folk's approach? Claude believed that the Shiskans were low on troops and couldn't afford to take an attack from both fronts. So, their only option was to severely wound 2nd Folk, reclaim their camp, and turn back around to deal with 1st Folk.

According to Eiblont's estimations, Claude believed that the Shiskans lost around a folk in the fight at the camp. The proof for that was the eight thousand plus dog tags of the Shiksan veterans 2nd Folk had collected, and those were the ones taken from corpses only. According to a rate of two injured for one dead, the Shiksans should've suffered a folk's worth of casualties.

If there were two other corps, that is, four folks of Shiksan corps in the camp, Claude would've had to reconsider attacking with 1st Folk. However, now that it seemed the number of Shiksans was more likely to be only a corps, there wasn't much to worry about. He decided to go with their original plan to eliminate the Shiksan veterans here.

Just like Eiblont said, the defence line at the first wall easily fell into 1st Folk's control, followed by the first and second trenches as well. They only met strong resistance in the third trench. The Shiksan veterans had silently hidden themselves within the trenches and only charged out all of a sudden for a melee once Thundercrash's troops arrived.

Apart from that, they also had more than ten light-infantry cannons positioned above the third trench, all disguised. The difference in elevation of the ground allowed those from the third trench to get a clear line of sight to the second trench from a distance of 50 metres away. Eiblont had said that the Shiksans had used the difference in height to pose a great threat to 2nd Folk. Thundercrash was only able to get over that obstacle after filling up the trenches.

Claude had been long prepared for it this time. He had the attackers bring wooden boards and the like to the fight. Little did he expect that the Shiksans wouldn't retaliate by having a shootout with them, which caused the soldiers in the trenches to suddenly forget about the danger they were in. When the troops gathered in the second trench readied themselves for an attack on the third, the light-infantry cannons the Shiksans had hidden in the third trench began firing scattershot at the gathered troops. Berklin's line immediately lost two hundred men, about a clan's worth.

Claude could only sigh after receiving the disheartening report. The enemy was improving their inadequate fortifications as well. Claude immediately ordered the men to stop attacking the third trench and secure their defensive position on the second one. Since the enemy seemed intent on fighting the main battle in the trench area, he had to make preparations. There was no need for 1st Folk to waste its numbers by conquering the third trench.

Claude had Berklin's 1st Line attack the left side while Moriad attacked the right with 2nd Line. They took over the first wall and first two trenches first and secured themselves from the risk of the enemy attacking their flanks all of a sudden. While Eiblont only had two lines remaining in 2nd Folk that could still fight, the addition of ten thousand men was still a great help to Claude's own 1st Folk.

Additionally, he wanted to check how many troops the Shiksans still had. The defensive camp was large. Even with Claude having conquered the first two trenches and the wall, his men were spread out and there could still be openings for the enemy to take advantage of.

However, that was exactly what he was going for. In changing his offensive stance to a defensive one and giving up on wasting his troops against the well-prepared Shiksans at the third trench, he would sit and wait for the Shiksans to come to him in the first two trenches instead. Even though the men were spread out, with many parts of the second trench being defended only by a single tent, it was a wide net which the Shiksans couldn't possibly hope to escape after being entangled within.

The Shiksans were utterly confused by Claude's move. They didn't understand why he would spread his men thin on the battlefield. Was he trying to keep the Shiksans in? As a result, they launched a few probing attacks. Surprisingly, however, the troops of the second trench didn't resist stubbornly as they initially assumed. Instead, they retreated resolutely and let the trench fall back into Shiksan hands.

So, they continued launching attacks on the first trench, only to notice the same situation. They continued on to attack the defence line at the first wall and easily conquered it as well. By now, the enemy still hadn't noticed that they could no longer turn back. The troops occupying the second trench were attacked from both flanks by Thundercrash and it was soon taken back. Now, the Shiksans in the first trench and at the first wall were isolated from the rest of their own. They fought valiantly before ultimately being sacrificed.

Initially, the Shiksans thought they sent too few men to join the battle and Thundercrash counterattacked too quickly. So, they committed even more forces into the attack. However, the Shiksans couldn't resist the attackers that surrounded their flanks and the area they had conquered soon fell back into the theatre's hands.

It was only until a tribe of Shiksan veterans surrounded between the first trench and wall were exterminated that the Shiksans came to understand that it was a ploy Thundercrash had set. They were no longer able to take the initiative to attack. The lesson had cost them near a line's worth of men.

"The Shiksans really don't have enough troops to spare. Otherwise, they wouldn't only send a tribe in their final attack. If they sent a line of veterans instead, they could at least save half their men," Claude said.

Eiblont nodded and agreed to the inference. Had the Shiksans really had enough men, they wouldn't have to tread that carefully at all.

When they were flanked on both sides, they could've sent a larger force to help the troops that took over the first trench and wall to retreat, or they could fight back and not be surrounded so quickly. If they could get some soldiers to escape, the Shiksan commanders would figure out Thundercrash's trap.

Every Thundercrash soldier that participated in the flanking manoeuvre were armed with new rifles. They were the 3rd Line of Dyavid that was split into four tribes, which each took one crucial point. If any spot between the four points came under enemy attack, reinforcements could easily be sent from the two adjacent points to surround the enemy between them.

The new rifles that could fire six times consecutively were far superior to the single-shot muskets the Shiksans used. The four tribes of 3rd Line suffered fewer than four hundred casualties to take out near five thousand Shiksans. The Shiksan veterans who had prepared themselves for a melee after firing their shot were mowed down by the consecutive shots the new rifles provided.

Since the Shiksans no longer mounted any attacks on the occupied area, Claude changed back to an offensive stance. He instructed Dyavid's 3rd Line to mount a sniping attack from 200 metres away, picking out any Shiksans lookouts that dared to poke their heads out. The ten sniper rifles created before the war were the main force in that battle. They were able to shoot the Shiksan lookouts from up to 400 metres away.

With the new rifles constantly shooting at the Shiksan lookouts and essentially rendering them blind, Claude had Thundercrash 4th Line escort large numbers of captives into the battlefield to expand the first and second trenches. The unearthed mud was piled up to make half-body-height walls which obscured the enemy's line of sight. They were no longer able to look into the trenches.

The Shiksan defenders were only further angered by the fact that the captive labourers were their own. They weren't able to fire at them to stop the work. All they could do was beckon for them to run and yell curses at the Auerans. They had even mounted two attacks to try to rescue some Shiksan captives, only for them to end in failure. Even those that managed to escape were immediately shot dead. Since then, the captives obediently worked away without any thoughts of escaping.

Claude used the captives to expand the first two trenches to install the Shiksan catapults he managed to procure. He was going to use their own iron pumpkins to bombard the trenches they held. As he managed to obtain five thousand iron pumpkins from the supply base, he was going to use them all on this attack. He'd like to see whether their shell would remain intact after all that.

As the sniper rifles and new rifles, as well as the mud walls, stopped the Shiksans from getting a sight on the Auerans, which was certainly helped by the expanded and deepened trenches, the Shiksans weren't aware that more than a hundred catapults had been installed in the first two trenches.

When near a hundred iron pumpkins were flung through the air into the third trench, the veterans defending it were completely eliminated. Claude ordered for the key points linking the third and fourth trenches to be heavily bombarded to render the cover walls completely useless. The Shiksans in the third trench either had to brave the falling iron pumpkins as they retreated from the trenches or climb out and make their escape.

No matter which choice they made, they would become the targets of the sharpshooters and snipers. The Shiksans that actually managed to retreat to the fourth trench were fewer than one in a hundred. The two trenches were separated by around 110 metres. The whole stretch was within range of the iron pumpkins. However, the catapults were quite inaccurate and couldn't just fire anywhere they wanted.

Claude ordered around eight volleys of a total of near 700 iron pumpkins to be flung to the third trench, but only a third of them really ended up inside. Even so, it was enough to wipe out most of the Shiksans within. When the 20 plus catapults installed in the second trench started attacking the fourth trench, the soldiers of Thundercrash advanced towards the third and easily conquered it, before sending more Shiksan captives there to expand the third trench.

They moved over five thousand corpses out of the third trench. Coupled with the ones shot dead outside the trenches, they were able to tell that the Shiksans lost another line of forces. Claude was quite impressed by the firm fighting spirit of the Shiksan veterans, but that only reinforced his belief that such a tough enemy better be completely annihilated.

As many Aueran soldiers were harmed by injured or temporarily unconscious Shiksans as they took over the third trench, Moriad had no choice but to order his men to give all Shiksan bodies a shot or stab first, lest they suddenly got up and took one Aueran with them.

Though the Shiksans suffered huge losses in the third trench, they didn't give up. Claude sent a captive to the Shiksan commander with a demand for their surrender, only for it to be refused. The captive was beaten up badly before being released. He was cursed and rebuked by the veterans who saw him as a traitor for working for the enemy. Had their commander not ordered him to send a reply, he wouldn't have been able to leave alive.

Claude knew well that the Shiksans thought that they could count on the second wall to hold their position. There were also catapults and iron pumpkins beyond that wall that hadn't been used yet. They were only waiting for Thundercrash to take the fourth trench before they would be able to use them to vent their hatred and avenge their comrades in the third trench.

From a higher firing position, the Shiksans could send the iron pumpkins 150 metres away. In other words, the area ten metres ahead the third trench was within the Shiksans' firing range. However, Claude wasn't stupid enough to let his men attack and conquer the fourth trench. He was counting on the fact that they had forgotten that the theatre had its own mortars, and were the pioneers of its use too.

The Shiksans knew that the iron pumpkins had the widest range, so they didn't react to the construction work in the third trench carried out by the captives. So what if Thundercrash put the catapults inside it? They would only be able to throw the iron pumpkins to the fifth trench at the furthest. They wouldn't be able to injure any of the troops operating the catapults and light-infantry cannons beyond the second wall.

However, Claude wasn't planning to use the catapults to fire iron pumpkins at all. Instead, he was going to use the theatre's own mortar rounds. While they were not as explosive, they were lighter and easier to hide, unlike the iron pumpkins that had to have its rope fuse lit first before firing. That way, they wouldn't expose their firing positions as easily. The theatre's mortar rounds only had to have their internal fuse increased by a centimetre for the explosion to trigger once they shot past the 200-metre mark.

Back when they were at the second defence line of the eastern mountains, Birkin tried using the catapults he obtained and managed to launch the mortar rounds past 200 metres and managed to suppress the iron pumpkins just like that. The frequency of iron pumpkin bombardments on the defence line lowered dramatically. It was likely the Shiksans here at the northern mountain borders didn't know that and let the Auerans install those catapults in the third trench as they pleased.

While the Shiksans did launch a few night attacks in the past three days, they were repelled by Thundercrash, who were ready for them. The Shiksans really did seem to be short on manpower, as could be seen from their far smaller numbers they sent to attack the Auerans. The attacks were also not nearly as intense. They retreated after leaving behind a mere hundred plus corpses, allowing Claude to install the catapults in the third trench without trouble.

While the Shiksans didn't have any lookouts out in the open, they did have quite a number of them observing from cover. Even with the mud walls obscuring their view, they could still tell that Thundercrash was gearing up for an attack, so they made their own preparations as well.

1st Folk had near 1200 mortar rounds in their stores, whereas 2nd Folk had around 300 remaining. Claude was going to use all 1500 of them on the second wall and break through from there. Thundercrash was indeed going to launch an attack, but they weren't going to clash with the Shiksans in the fourth and fifth trenches and were going straight for the second wall.

When the order was given, more than a hundred rounds were launched into the skies. The Shiksans behind the wall wondered why they would bother wasting the iron pumpkins, since nobody was defending the fifth trench. Bombarding it was only a waste of ammunition. It was not until the rounds fell near the second wall that they snapped out of it. They no longer cared about how Thundercrash were able to launch the mortars so far away. Instead, they were all too occupied trying to keep themselves alive.

Cheers from the troops in the third trench rang out nonstop. Nothing was more moralising than seeing the enemy blasted to smithereens. Countless flashes and wafts of black smoke rose above the second wall along with some body parts sent flying from the blasts.

"Blast them all up!" Eiblont excitedly ordered, "Fling all the mortar rounds there and launch our final attack after the last two volleys! Crush their defences and eliminate all Shiksans!"

Chapter 449 - Bloody Clash

"Hold on! Don't panic! Aim well before firing!" cried a second lieutenant of Thundercrash to his line of ten plus troops. They raised their muskets and pulled the triggers.

Gunshots rang out white smoke spread into the air. However, only the frontmost four to five Shiksans fell; one of them had taken five to six shots alone before collapsing, already beyond saving. His comrades behind him roared and charged in with a renewed ferocity.

"Put on your bayonets! Don't panic! We'll go and skewer those Shiksan bastards!" The slightly older second lieutenant broke a Shiksan's charge with his bayonet and harshly struck him with the stock of his gun. A snap could be heard before the Shiksan collapsed on the ground, clutching his bloody face as his body twitched in pain.

The officer didn't give his victim one more look. He had already turned to the other two charging Shiksans. As a veteran who had fought in many battles, he had experienced such a situation many times before. While the Shiksans seemed terrifying, their bayonet skills didn't even seem to be passable. In two to three short bouts, the two Shiksans were skewered and felled by the elder second lieutenant.

Just as he was about to take a look at his own men, he heard a gunshot. Clutching his chest, he turned around and saw a Shiksan soldier hurriedly reloading his musket before he collapsed with a hint of unwillingness. All he could hear before he passed out was the frantic cries of his subordinates...

"Send the Shiksans back home!" In another location, some 30 soldiers from Thundercrash surrounded the seven remaining Shiksans with their bayonets held up. The floor was covered with near a hundred corpses and injured. The Shiksans in blue uniform and Auerans in red uniform laid on top of each other. Some were still struggling to take one final enemy with them to their deaths. However, Thundercrash still held the advantage. The seven surrounded Shiksans were injured in varying degrees and no longer seemed able to keep up.

Even with the Auerans roaring for the Shiksans to surrender, not one of those veterans were willing to discard their weapons. Instead, they gripped them even tighter. It seemed that they had already accepted their final fate. Little did anyone else notice that 50 metres away, one sole Shiksan soldier was pushing a light-infantry cannon with his injured body. He aimed the cannon to the group of people and bent down to pick up the fire starter on the ground before stuffing it into the cannon.

A loud boom rang out, followed by a torrent of shrapnel flying out. Both the Auerans and the surrounded Shiksan veterans were wiped cleanly out. The dying cannoneer laughed maniacally before coughing out more blood. His release would come soon. One Aueran soldier that saw what went on came to him and used his bayonet to vent his hate on the cannoneer's body.

"Huh? Firing the cannon, huh? Where did you learn to do that?" The poor Shiksan's chest was pierced so much it almost looked like a honeycomb. However, the Aueran soldier was soon inspired by the boom of the cannon he heard just now. He loudly called for his comrades with the intent on aiming the cannon at the other rabid Shiksans. But before they could respond, his call alerted the enemy. Gunshots rang out and the soldier collapsed on top of the cannon.

"I need reinforcements, General! 1st Line will be wiped out in another hour!" Berklin begged Claude with his entire body covered in blood.

Claude looked at the chaotic warzone a few hundred metres away through his telescope without being moved in the slightest. "Colonel, you shouldn't be here. You should be commanding your men to resist the enemy's advance. Gum, take my personal guard to reinforce them and stabilise the defence line. This is the Shiksans' final struggle. We just have to endure it a little more to win!"

Berklin stomped his foot hatefully and charged to the command post set up at the third trench. He knew Claude's troubled predicament. Reinforcements were demanded everywhere, but he didn't have nearly enough men. Nobody could've expected the Shiksans to charge at him so rabidly. Now, it was only a question of who could endure the intense fighting. The last side standing would be the victor. Claude even had to send his own guards to the frontlines.

This chaotic battle occurred when the second wall was conquered by Thundercrash. Claude used the Shiksan catapults to launch the theatre's mortars and managed to give them a heavy blow. The 1500 rounds dealt severe losses to the troops behind the wall. They quickly followed up with an attack with 3rd Line, all armed with new rifles, and easily took the fourth and fifth trenches between the walls.

However, there was something Claude didn't take into account: 3rd Line's ammunition shortage. Many soldiers had already fired their final bullet and unloaded new rifles couldn't even compare to normal muskets. Claude had no choice but to have them retreat and send Berklin's 1st Line and Moriad's 2nd Line out instead. By then, the Shiksans had recovered and immediately launched a frenzied attack against the second wall, whose defence had faltered, leading to the current situation.

Apart from making sure each soldier armed with the new rifle also had a hundred rounds with them, Claude also had another stash of ammunition prepared and handed it to Eiblont for safekeeping. After attacking the Shiksan supply base, 3rd Line's troops resupplied once. What they didn't expect was the sheer amount of ammunition used during the seven days fighting in the trenches. 3rd Line, by virtue of being armed with newer weapons, had been fighting nonstop at the frontlines.

When the troops of 3rd Line attacked the thousand-metre-long second wall, they wiped out the Shiksans there. But just as they were about to erect their own defences, they ran out of bullets. The whole line of 4000 plus had fewer than 400 rounds remaining. Dyavid hastily made an urgent request for more ammunition, only to learn that the rear no longer had any ammunition.

Claude then had 3rd Line retreat to look after the captives in 4th Line's stead. Then, he sent 1st Line and 2nd Line to secure the defence line. One good hour was wasted just like that. The Shiksans launched their attack before 1st and 2nd lines were able to firm their footing at the wall, causing the battle to devolve into a chaotic mess. Massacres and fights broke out everywhere.

The second wall was designed to defend against forces coming from the outside, not inside. Beyond the wall were cannons and catapults, so the land had to be flat. After they suffered Claude's mortar bombardment, they suffered a huge blow. If they didn't reclaim the thousand-metre wall, their defences would have a huge, gaping hole. The enemy could then easily take out the warehouses and barracks behind, which would be a disaster for the Shiksans. They would have no other choice than to surrender or be wiped out.

After Thundercrash conquered the second wall, they couldn't find much cover against the rear of the wall at all. Not even the simplest of mud walls could be found. The second wall also wouldn't be of much use, as the slope behind the wall was too steep and they would have to use stilts to be able to poke their heads over the wall to fight. 3rd Line also retreated after running out of bullets following their cleansing of troops that survived the bombardment, and 1st Line and 2nd Line no longer had the time to build any fortifications.

The Shiksans charged in wave after wave, throwing away their lives to reclaim the taken wall. Both sides fired once before charging into a messy melee. Claude could barely hold back the waves of Shiksan troops. The battle that lasted through the day and night fatigued both sides to the point of breaking down.

Gum departed and returned just as swiftly. The guards, armed with the new rifles, quickly stabilised 1st Line's defence line and chased the rabid Shiksans away, buying some rare time for 1st Line to rest. However, Gum was harmed by an iron-pumpkin explosion. A Shiksan soldier had ignited an iron pumpkin from 20 metres away and the explosion caused a piece of shrapnel to sink into his abdomen, causing him to have to be stretchered back.

It wasn't the first time that occurred. Claude saw the suicide bombings all too often from his telescope. The Shiksan veterans were the most fearless people he had ever seen. They carried the iron pumpkins in one hand, a torch in the other, and charged to the enemy before pressing the flame against the bottom of the iron pumpkin to trigger an explosion that wiped out Shiksans and Auerans without discriminating.

Thundercrash's 1st and 2nd lines only managed to last half a day before asking for reinforcements. 2nd Folk's 5th and 8th lines were sent to join the fray. The battle was mostly over by midnight. Claude sent 4th Line into the fray and Eiblont had the remainder of 2nd Folk's 6th and 7th lines restructured into 3 temporary tribes before sending them into battle as well. Only then were they able to last till dawn.

With Claude's personal guard band also joining, they managed to just barely stop the insane Shiksan advance. Not long after the battle at Berklin's side calmed down, the right flank where Moraid's 2nd Line was fighting also quieted down. Only Thundercrash's banner remained on the wall, still flapping in the wind.

According to the soldier that sent Gum back, the Shiksans weren't able to hold on either. The last wave of people charging at them weren't veterans, but rather, support staff like chefs, scribes, servants of officers and so on. They lacked any will to fight properly at all and were there only to make their final stands before they perished. As they didn't have much momentum, the troops were able to beat them back with light casualties.

Claude could only relax when the injured were sent back nonstop. The Shiksans stopped attacking for a whole half hour now. It seemed they really couldn't hold on. Claude changed into a soldier's uniform and headed towards the wall. He only saw the bloody spectacle for himself when he got up there. All the corpses he saw were clad in blue uniforms. They covered the entire ground and their blood formed a large, bloody puddle that enveloped the whole place and gave off a strong, bloody stench.

There were a number of soldiers clearing up the battlefield in the distance with their bayonets ready, piercing every corpse once just to make sure. Cries of pain and death rang out from time to time. Only after they were dealt with would the soldiers claim the tags on their bodies and check on their own fallen comrades to see whether there was any hope in saving them. Those that still drew breath were immediately treated by the medics.

Moriad came over with a bared and bandaged arm. He was so tired that he just sat down on a dead Shiksan.

"Are you alright?" Claude asked concernedly.

"I'm fine. I only stepped on a corpse and slipped and got this gash on my arm. It'll heal up after a couple days of rest," he replied nonchalantly. He knew what Claude was there for. "Don't worry, Chief. Blowk is fine. He's fiercer than me, you know, and took out a whole tent of Shiksans himself without getting a scratch. He took his tent to the enemy scouts' camp."

He felt relieved hearing that Bloweyk was fine. Looking at the hundreds of corpses piled up into the distance, he asked, "How many men do you have left?"

Moriad's face darkened. "2nd Line should have a tribe that can still move, and those are the lightly injured ones. The heavily injured have been sent back. The rest are those from other lines. 4th, 5th and 8th coupled together should have no more than six thousand. The Shiksans really went mad this time around. I think a folk's worth of people died... Look at all the corpses from here to there..."

Compared to the linesman of 4th Line, Jadewok, Moriad's injuries were really light. The original linesman, Andruk, had his rheumatism acting up again. It was so serious that he had to be transferred into a post of linesman of the garrison line at Port Cobius. He was also given the position of chief constable of Tyrrsim. So, Jadewok was transferred from headquarters to become the linesman of 4th Line.

Last night, Claude sent 4th Line in as reinforcements. They happened to encounter one of the fiercest counterattacks by the Shiksans and Jadewok's field-officer uniform drew the attention of the Shiksans. So, they intensified their attacks and killed off all his guards before finally getting the colonel himself.

Jadewok's death almost caused the troops of 4th Line to crumble. Fortunately, Moriad heard about it and rushed over in time and led the attack that drove the enemy back. He reformed the defence line and had Jadewok's corpse sent back before taking over 4th Line himself. Only then did the soldiers manage to endure.

Apart from the unlucky Jadewok, 2nd Folk's 5th and 7th lines' linesmen were sent to the rear with heavy injuries. It was a surprisingly chaotic battle that caused Thundercrash severe losses. Among its eight linesmen, one died and two were injured. As for the tribesmen, there wasn't a concrete count yet, but Claude was already informed of the deaths of three on the battlefield.

After lunch, Claude received a report from the scouts at the frontlines. The Shiksans gave up on their warehouses, camp and field hospitals. The remaining soldiers gathered up on a small hill. It should be where they stored their food and ammunition. They seemed intent on continuing their stubborn resistance.

Bloweyk reported that the hill still had around ten thousand men, mostly injured in one way or another. He could see from his telescope that they had some ten cannons, but no catapults. The Shiksans filled the linen bags they used to store food with earth and stacked them above the trenches to prevent cannon and mortar bombardments.

Additionally, the Shiksans burned the warehouses filled with uniforms as they retreated. The Auerans that took the second wall no longer had any energy to spare to put out the fire and simply set up a perimeter to stop the fire from spreading further.

Claude figured that they set the fire to stop Thundercrash from immediately pursuing to buy them time to fortify their position. However, it was nothing but a dying struggle. Did they really think they could stop Thundercrash on a small hill? Claude had many ways to sweep across the whole thing.

However, he wasn't in a rush. The troops needed time to rest after the bloody clash and the corpses also needed cleaning up. His men wouldn't have to go through that trouble, however. He could leave them to the Shiksan captives.

Just as Claude was about to get Dyavid's 3rd Line to escort the captives to clean up the battlefield, Eiblont returned with bad news. The nikancha tribes at the northern mountainous coasts refused to partake in the attack on the Shiksan camps, citing the excuse that their role was to defend, not attack. The severe losses they suffered after working with Eiblont to attack the Shiksan camp before seemed to have caused them to lose their drive.

Claude slammed the table hatefully. If the nikancha could've joined the battle yesterday, Thundercrash wouldn't have suffered such losses. However, he couldn't blame them either. The nikancha were no fools, and Eiblont's actions did cause them to lose confidence in him. They wouldn't let the lives of their youths be sacrificed for Thundercrash's sake.

He already had a hunch things weren't going to go well when Eiblont didn't return last night. Though, he did manage to gain victory in the end. However, he didn't think Eiblont would bring him even more bad news.

"The informants in Cape Loducus report that the third batch of Shiksan corps has arrived. This time around, they sent two standing corps over, one being a light-cavalry corps. They set out the night they arrived, probably to reinforce the camp at the fringes of the northern mountains.

"General Birkin wrote to me that the Shiksans have all left the border of the eastern mountains. There should only be a corps and a half left. The scouts spotted them rushing north and Birkin is helpless to chase them down. He warns us to be careful."

Chapter 450 - Merit, Lesson, and the Foolish Nikancha

Claude slowly sat down as his face continued to darken like a live volcano about to blow. Eiblont looked at him unnervingly. "Are you alright?"

After sighing deeply, completely expelling the heavy air in his lungs, Claude grit his teeth and said, "I'm fine..."

How could he be fine? He felt like he was about to explode! Eiblont's two pieces of news couldn't be worse. Claude only needed five more days, nay, three was enough, to wipe out the ten thousand remaining Shiksans in the camp.

But now, he could no longer do so. He had to calm down and arrange for Thundercrash to retreat as soon as possible. Otherwise, he would be the one to be eliminated instead if he ended up being surrounded by the Shiksans from three sides.

He couldn't blame anyone on it. Nobody would've expected that the third batch of Shiksan troops would arrive at such a crucial time. One of the two corps was also a light-cavalry corps. The way from Cape Loducus to the border of the northern mountains took five days to traverse, but light cavalry only needed two, one and a half if they were fast.

General Birkin at the eastern front only brought a folk of Monolith with him, Tribe 131 from Thundercrash which Claude assigned to him, and the nikancha. It was already incredible that he managed to hold two corps of more than 100 thousand Shiksans back at the borders of the eastern mountains. Now that the Shiksans had retreated from the eastern mountains en masse and left only one corps and a half of troops behind for defence, it was already a great loss for them.

The letter sent by the informants in Cape Loducus took more than half a day to reach him, so he only had a day at most. Fortunately, they were already at the border of the northern mountains. It would only take two to three hours for them to enter the mountains to shake off their pursuers. He still had time to clean up the battlefield and leave with the corpses of fallen soldiers and the injured.

Thundercrash still had enough troops to attack the remaining Shiksans that occupied the hill, as the enemy was faring worse than Thundercrash. Claude had more than four thousand iron pumpkins from his spoils alone. With the help of some woodworkers, he was confident he could flatten the whole hill and wipe the ten thousand Shiksans out. However, he wasn't confident he could use the camp to defend against an attack from 200 thousand Shiksan reinforcements from both sides.

If Thundercrash hadn't experienced that bloody mess and had enough ammunition, Claude wouldn't mind wiping out the ten thousand at the hill while holding off the reinforcements at the same time. Perhaps he could even cause the Shiksans to bleed out even more.

It was rather simple; the light-cavalry corps would be on the way immediately after disembarking from the ships. Claude would only give up if they were above 30 percent fighting capacity, but the journey they took to come was a whole month at sea. Both the troops and the horses definitely needed time to rest up to be in prime form. Perhaps Claude would be able to take the horses the Shiksans spared so much effort to ship to Nubissia.

However, the other one and a half corps coming from the eastern mountains to reinforce their allies in the border of the northern mountains got Claude's attention. They were formed from Shiksan veterans. Despite their low morale following their many losses, they would still charge in to attack them without regard. Even if their march was long and tiring, Thundercrash would still have a hard time shaking them off. Claude had personally seen the stubborn will of the Shiksan veterans, after all.

It was all because 3rd Line ran out of rounds for the new rifles and the seven other main combat corps didn't even have enough fighting capacity of three full corps that it bode really badly for Claude to face off against the two and a half Shiksan corps coming his way. He wouldn't do something that crazy as long as his mind was sound.

When he calmed down, he gave the order, "Clean up the battlefield and pack up. Send our brave martyrs back home and take away what we can. Burn that which we can't take along."

During the evening, Claude looked back at the burning Shiksan camp on horseback. The outermost wooden wall had been sprinkled with fuel and set alight. Pillars of fumes wafted into the skies as the camp burned bright like a mountain of flames.

It was too bad that the Shiksans had set fire to the food stores and barracks themselves. Otherwise, the smoke from the burning could smoke the Shiksans that held the small hill to death. While the whole camp was burning, there was actually quite a lot of space in between. While the Shiksan troops didn't fare too well, they had a sufficient water supply and would survive.

"Let's go!" Claude said to Eiblont as he turned around and left with his guards for the northern mountains.

The fire burned for three days and nights in the valley. It still had to keep burning for a few more days to cremate all 18 thousand bodies of the Thundercrash soldiers before their ashes could be enshrined in the mausoleum at Martyr Hill.

Martyr Hill was a small hill near Lanu where the theatre entombed the soldiers of Thundercrash, Monolith and the local garrisons. It was a mausoleum reserved only for the theatre's brave warriors so future generations could pay respects.

Needless to say, it was Claude's idea. It gained unanimous approval from the others as well. What he didn't expect was Thundercrash would be sending so many people there at once. The 2nd Folk, which Eiblont was put into command for the first time, had lost six thousand during the attack on the camp. In total, they lost near 25 thousand troops.

Thundercrash had lost nearly a folk of troops, with another 20 plus thousand being injured in varying degrees. Among them were a thousand plus who would be retiring from crippling injuries. It was a blow that harmed Thundercrash to the core. For every ten thousand enemies they culled, they lost three thousand of their own. It was, however, too late for Claude to regret his actions. If he had known that the attack on the camp's second wall would result in such a messy battle, he would've spared the Shiksans instead.

Nobody could've expected the Shiksans to be so eager to give their lives for their cause and for the battlefield to not have any cover. The soldiers of both sides seemed to be fighting using traditional tactics, shooting each other out blindly from a couple metres away before charging in with bayonets.

Of the 18 thousand deaths, 16 thousand of it happened during the messy battle after the second wall's conquest. During the battles fought over the past seven days, the losses only numbered around two thousand.

The Shiksans didn't fare any better either. The dog tags collected on the battlefield alone numbered more than 44 thousand. It could be seen that after Thundercrash took the second wall, the Shiksans sent in all their remaining forces in the counterattack, only to end up failing too.

The lesson Claude learned from this battle was the necessity of securing his ammunition stash. Without ammunition, the new rifles were no better than sticks. Though, he couldn't really be blamed for his carelessness. He had forgotten that the new rifles weren't matchlock muskets at all and didn't have a good grasp on the kind of ammunition consumption he would require.

Back then, Claude joined Bluefeather and the soldiers that participated in the five-year war were only armed with matchlocks. Each soldier only needed to be given 150 rounds and gunpowder, as well as enough slow matches. In actuality, many soldiers didn't need to be resupplied, apart from their slow matches, as they wouldn't get to fire more than 20 rounds in battle anyway.

Most battles saw a soldier fire a round or two before charging in to engage in a melee. Only troops armed with the Aubass Mark 3 could use precision fire to pick off their enemies countless times.

This time around, Claude had Line 1303 armed with the new rifles. Apart from making sure each soldier carried a hundred rounds with them, the logistics department also had a stash of rounds ready to resupply each soldier three more times. Claude thought that would be enough for his battles.

Little did he know that he would suffer such heavy losses because he didn't supply enough ammunition. If he had enough rounds and didn't have to retreat, even with a short hour of preparation, he would be able to make simple fortifications and rely on the insane firepower of the new rifles to give the crazy Shiksans a lesson they would not forget.

Claude believed that if the plans could unravel as he imagined them, Thundercrash would never have to pay that heavy a price. It would have been a massacre for the Shiksans. The fiercer they charged, the more they would lose, and the faster they would be wiped out.

It was very troublesome to load muskets and the enemy could use the time to rush to you and force you into a melee and give up on shooting. However, the new rifles could fire six times in succession. Between each shot, the soldier only had to pull the bolt to load the next round. It was as quick and easy as breathing.

The time needed to load one round into a matchlock was enough for the Sonia 591s to empty their magazine and load a new one. Not to mention, if one missed, by the time one finished loading, the enemy would've gone off far away.

The new rifle, on the other hand, could immediately follow up with another shot after a miss until the target was hit. That was why the soldiers using the new rifles burned through their rounds so quickly. Nobody would let their target escape. They would continue to shoot at a moving target, wasting their rounds until they hit it.

It was too bad there was no cure for regret, both in Claude's old world and this one. All he could do was engrave the lesson deep in his mind to prevent himself from repeating such a mistake. It looked like he would need to double the amount of ammunition he had in reserve since the rounds ran out that quickly.

"General, the leaders of the nikancha tribes are here. They hope that you split some iron pumpkins and catapults to them. Only then would they be confident enough to defend the mountain area ahead," Captain Masonhughes, the newly appointed adjutant, said, interrupting Claude's thoughts.

Claude had assigned his former adjutant, Lieutenant-Colonel Anders as the acting linesman of Line 1304 to replace the dead Jadewok.

Claude's lips curved into a mocking smile. "Have them buzz off. I really don't know where they get their bravery from to dare demand me for the iron pumpkins and catapults I got. Tell them they can buy it with gold and silver or get out of my sight."

However, the new adjutant still didn't know Claude well enough. "But, General, the nikancha leaders say they wouldn't be able to weather the Shiksan attack without them. They would have no choice but to retreat to prevent unnecessary casualties and wouldn't be able to afford our corps any more protection."

"Hahahaha!" Claude was so angry that he laughed out loud. Did the nikancha leaders even have their heads in the right place? Thundercrash had entered the mountains to attack the Shiksans, not to escape them. They would never remain there if that was the case. Perhaps the Shiksans thought that Thundercrash had returned as the loser after seeing so many dead soldiers.

The nikancha also noticed the two Shiksan corps coming from outside the mountain area and complained that Claude's attack on the Shiksan camp had attracted even more enemies to them. Little did they know that Thundercrash had already wiped out nearly two corps of Shiksans, save for the final ten thousand.

When the nikancha discovered that Thundercrash actually returned with 20 thousand captives and lots of iron pumpkins and catapults, they immediately set their sights on the weapons and demanded to be given some in the name of defending the mountains against the Shiksans.

There was no point in interlocuting with the fools. Didn't it ever occur to them that Thundercrash had won after seeing the spoils and captives? Claude didn't hesitate and asked them to buzz off to the furthest corner they could find, yet he didn't think they would be so persistent to ask again after being refused thrice, this time, even threatening to not protect Thundercrash.

And yet, the naive adjutant was actually fooled by those words. It was truly lucky of him to be appointed as Anders' replacement.

Claude got to know Masonhughes after the messy battle. Back then, he was sleeping soundly on top of a few Shiksan corpses. Claude thought that he was a dead soldier, but it was weird he wasn't carted away. Once he got close, he noticed that he was actually snoring. It was the first time he had seen someone using corpses as beds. He even thought the captain was some kind of deviant.

However, a nearby soldier told Claude that it was the first time this captain from the logistics department was on the battlefield. He also had good aim and shot dead three Shiksan veterans with a matchlock before killing another with a bayonet. He also covered the other soldiers as they eliminated the final five Shiksans, managing to suffer only a small casualty count of three dead and eleven injured to defend against the final Shiksan charge.

Masonhughes was a commoner at birth. He was currently 28 and was transferred from the mainland into Ranger when it was expanded into a folk following the second colonial war. As he graduated as a logistics officer from the royal war college, he was assigned to be a logistics officer in the royal guard as a second lieutenant and was filled with great aspirations.

Being a commoner, he didn't have many chances to shine in the noble-infested royal guard. When the ministry of the army was recruiting more troops to join Ranger on Nubissia, he handed in his transfer request to Nubissia to serve the kingdom.

That was how he came to the theatre. As he was a graduate with proper training in the college, he was greatly helped by Miselk and transferred into one of the five enhanced folks. He became a logistics officer of an irregular corps later and was promoted to first lieutenant, before he became Eiblont's subordinate.

A few years then passed and he was promoted to the rank of captain and took up his new post as logistics supervisor of Thundercrash 2nd Folk Line 1307 28th Combat Tribe. During the chaotic battle, Eiblont formed the logistics officers of 1st Folk into three tribes and sent them into battle, making it Masonhughes' heroic debut on the battlefield.

Initially, he puked out a river at the sight of the sea of corpses, but he was quick to adapt and got used to the rhythm of battle soon enough. Despite being a logistics officer, his leadership abilities were strong and he easily won the trust of the troops. After the commanding officer in charge of defending the area was sent back for his injuries, the highest-ranking Masonhughes took over a clan of troops.

After leading his men and weathering the final Shiksan attack, he felt so tired and wanted to lie down, but there was nowhere to do so, with the ground covered in blood. So, he made a bed out of the enemies' corpses and fell into a deep sleep the moment he closed his eyes. The ghastly sight of the corpse pillows had already been imprinted deep in Claude's mind.

Masonhughes didn't know that he was taken note of by Claude at all. Soon, Eiblont came to him with an order to take up the post of corpsman's adjutant to Claude. He only bothered to repeat the nikancha's threats because he was new and understood neither Claude nor the nikancha.

"Have them buzz off. If they don't leave, send the guards to chase them away. Tell the fools that Thundercrash has never needed their protection. Tell them to not get over their heads." Claude had a feeling he wouldn't be able to bargain with those fools. There was a saying in his old world that one had to be a fool to talk to fools, and the fools with more experience would easily defeat this newly proclaimed fool in any conversation.

Claude didn't think the nikancha would really give up on the fringes of the mountains on the second night without so much as a notice. Infuriated, Claude ordered Masonhughes, "Have Dyavid's 3rd Line take over the strongholds. Tell them that this is theatre territory from now on."

Chapter 451 - The Wondrous Nikancha

"Reporting in. Wolfang returned from an excursion and exterminated three Shiksan light-cavalry scout tents, collected 31 enemy tags and 26 war horses while suffering only one light casualty," Masonhughes told Claude.

Claude fumed with anger. "Get First Lieutenant Bloweyk to me. I had 3rd Line send small tents to wait in ambush for enemy scouts. What is Wolfang doing attacking them without orders? Do they still respect my authority as corpsman?!"

Bloweyk soon came to Claude, only to be heavily rebuked before being locked up for five days. However, that was enough to absolve Wolfang of their mistakes. Nobody would be able to pursue the matter moving forward.

Claude knew that Bloweyk had actually been encouraged by Dyavid to go out. Since 3rd Line was resupplied, Claude had Dyavid send tents out to exterminate the light-cavalry scout tents and lookouts of the Shiksans at the border of the northern mountains to completely blind them.

However, that kind of order was rather difficult for Dyavid to execute. Back when he, Berklin and the others served as Claude's direct subordinates, he was the one who hated using his brain the most. Since Claude was there to make all the decisions, all he had to do was to complete Claude's instructions. It ended up with him not learning anything about how to hide in ambush or analyse enemy movements.

Now that Claude had him send out small tents to ambush enemy scouts like their days in the ranger tribe, he didn't know where to start. If he sought out Berklin or Moriad, he would be mocked by them. In the end, he decided to call his four tribesmen and had each tribe send out two tents to carry out the mission while simply telling them to use wild grass as camouflage.

However, the mission wasn't accomplished at all. Of the eight tents sent out, four of them didn't meet any enemies the whole day. As for the other four, their encounters with the enemy didn't end well. Even though all of them were armed with new rifles and each carried a hundred rounds, their disguise was easily discovered. Their ensuing battle led to the deaths of two and injuries of fourteen others while they scattered the enemy ranks.

So, Dyavid was badly rebuked by Claude for not properly teaching his subordinates the tactics of ambushing after giving them the order. Berklin had a great laugh at the expense, saying that 3rd Line shouldn't have been armed with the new rifles. In the end, Moriad gave him a reminder on account of their friendship, telling him that there wasn't anyone more proficient in ambushing tactics than Wolfang in the corps.

If Dyavid had asked Bloweyk to serve as 3rd Line's instructor in ambushes, then everything would've ended well. However, when he recalled what Claude said about countless training sessions being subpar to one actual field practice, he decided to let the troops he picked out to watch Wolfang do the ambush so they could watch and learn in person.

However, no enemies showed up at most of the ambush points. They only managed to encounter three Shiksan scout tents within the whole day. They were wiped out completely, as expected. Apart from five Shiksan corpses that were carted away by their running horses, the rest had their dog tags harvested. The only soldier of Wolfang that got lightly injured was due to being kicked by the enemy's war horse when he went to collect it.

While the battle went quite well, Bloweyk had attacked without receiving an explicit order to do so, so he had to be punished for the record. After that, Claude ordered Wolfang to train Line 1303's troops in ambush tactics in the coming two weeks and allowed Wolfang to hold live training for them by ambushing and taking out enemy outposts.

It took them less than ten days to cause the Shiksans to no longer be able to resist that kind of abuse. On average, they were losing three tents of men each day. They lost almost a whole clan in ten days alone. Nowadays, the scouts that got picked for patrol acted as if they had been handed a death sentence. They left camp crying and despairing, oftentimes casually strolling outside camp to kill time before hastily returning to camp. When asked about the situation of the border, every one of them shook their heads and said they knew nothing.

It wasn't that they hadn't thought of wiping out the annoying ambushers, but their camp was far too close to the foot of the mountains. If they sent in a large force, the enemy would easily notice them and retreat.

Once, a clan of Shiksan light cavalry caught up with an ambush tent and trapped them on a small hill. They had wanted to try to overwhelm the tent with their mobility, only for two other ambush tents to come from their flank. All 30 plus guns fired at once. The fact that they were mounted only made them even more obvious from less than 50 metres away. Within five minutes, 70 to 80 of the 200 Shiksans fell, much to the terror of the rest who immediately rode to escape. Not one of them charged in to give their lives.

In the end, the two and a half corps of Shiksans who gathered at the burnt-down camp had no choice but to retreat some five kilometres back to build a new camp. Claude also stopped while he was still ahead, ordering the three lines' ambush tents to not go beyond five kilometres of their current camp. Both sides used the abandoned Shiksan camp as a border, each taking a side and not infringing one another.

Claude knew that if he ordered the ambushers to try their tactics five kilometres ahead, he would fall for the Shiksans' ploy. While it would still be possible to retreat the tents from a distance of five kilometres away, it was different if the distance was ten kilometres. The Shiksans could send their light cavalry to circle around and block the ambushers' escape route before sending their veterans to wipe them out once and for all.

Half a month later, Birkin came. He told Claude that the nikancha troops stationed at the defence line for the eastern mountain area had also retreated with the excuse of spending the new year with their families. Birkin said that the nikancha suffered heavy losses throughout the war with the Shiksans. Of the 100 thousand youths they had, only some 40 thousand managed to return. They'd not expected to lose over 60 thousand men.

Initially, the nikancha defending the fringe of the eastern mountains were bombed to high heaven by the Shiksans with their iron pumpkins. Haggardly, they gave up on their post and retreated after losing some four thousand men. When the first defence line there also fell, they lost another ten thousand. It was worth noting that any nikancha that fell into the hands of the Shiksans would be killed no matter their level of injury. Perhaps they saw the nikancha as unfit for being slaves anymore, now that they dared to wield weapons against them, and decided to simply kill them off to save trouble.

After retreating to the second defence line, the Shiksans were unable to follow up. Coupled with Claude leading Tribe 131 to their rear and exterminating two of their standing corps, their attacks on the second defence line was more bark than bite. Even the nikancha were able to easily repel the Shiksan skirmishes. The nikancha suffered relatively light losses at around a thousand plus.

Then, there was Claude's mobilisation of Thundercrash at the Shiskan supply base near Cape Loducus City. Two Shiksan standing corps at the east got wind of the news and decided to retreat. Before they left, they intentionally staged a huge attack to misdirect Birkin. It was only a day later that Birkin realised he fell for it, and the Shiksans had retreated far away by then, leaving only an empty camp behind.

Birkin immediately sent men to pursue and wanted to trap the Shiksans in the eastern mountains, but by then, the nikancha stopped listening to orders. They all thought victory was at hand. With the Shiksans haggardly trying to escape, it was their chance to strike them while they were down. So, all of them eagerly charged ahead, ignoring all of Birkin's orders, and swarmed towards the Shiksans.

The nikancha saw a battle of pursuit far too simply. They thought chasing the retreating Shiksans would give them a swift revenge, only to suffer a painful ambush. The 30 thousand nikancha fell into an ambush in a large valley that was sealed up from both sides. Iron pumpkins rained down from the sky, coupled with countless shrapnel from the cannon scatter shots, as well as the precise shooting of the Shiksan veterans. It was a nightmarish massacre of metal rain.

Fortunately, Birkin's unit came quickly and launched an attack from the rear. The Shiksans immediately retreated, leaving some ten thousand lucky souls and a few thousand injured men alive. However, that ambush had completely crushed the nikancha's courage. The remaining 30 thousand of them would start at the slightest breeze in fear of falling into another similar ambush.

Birkin had no choice but to have the nikancha assigned to the rear to take charge of logistics while he forged his way forward with Monolith.

By then, he only had three lines and a folk -- as well as Tribe 131, led by Myjack. Those troops were the main players in the latter half of the pursuit while the nikancha provided moral support, not even doing their logistics job properly. They lost a bunch of supplies, allegedly from dropping them down into canyons.

The nikancha had also tried to get the new rifles and rounds, which Birkin was all too aware of. They had seen how impressive the new rifles were and sent a few elders to request the theatre to provide them with some, even being willing to purchase one for 200 crowns, only to be met with immediate refusal.

But as it was wartime, the troops at the frontlines still needed the cooperation of the nikancha. So after Bolonik discussed the matter with Birkin, it was decided that Grandmaster Liboyd act out a show for the nikancha elders to see. Liboyd took the nikancha elders to a really secretive room, in which the materials for making a gun and an array was prepared. He spent a whole day to make one new rifle and ten rounds.

Bolonik and Skri told the elders there that all the theatre's new rifles were made by magi using arrays. If not for the Shiksan attacks, they wouldn't hand such precious magical items to the normal forces. It was the result of years of hard magical research, and not even half of the units that reported directly to the theatre could be armed with them. Even if the nikancha could muster two thousand crowns for a single rifle, it still wasn't a done deal.

While they managed to fool the nikancha elders, Bolonik and Skri knew they were persistent and wouldn't give up. So, they intentionally wrote to remind Claude and Birkin to be watchful of any trickery they would try to get the rifles.

Naturally, it was all fine with Claude's side. Apart from the rushed attack between Eiblont's troops and the nikancha, which saw Eiblont rely on the new rifles given to 3rd Line as his lifeline, the rest of the rifles were tightly monitored. There was no way the Shiksans could get any.

Birkin's situation, on the other hand, was harder. They were all at the same defence line and the nikancha loved to flock around the line with the new rifles, with all sorts of excuses such as losing their way and going to the wrong unit and so forth. In the end, Birkin was forced to take a page out of Myjack's book by ordering all his men to refuse all interaction with the nikancha. Any of them that dared make their approach would be given only three warnings before they would be shot and wounded before being arrested.

The soldiers wielding new rifles were given really stern warnings to even sleep while hugging their rifles. Night patrols were intensified. Even soldiers needing to heed nature's long call would have to get their comrades to look after their rifles. Those strict responses prevented any rifle from going unaccounted for or missing. During the whole month at the second defence line, the number of arrests of nikancha thieves that couldn't shake off their old habits was a few times more than that of other lines.

When the pursuit started, the troops armed with new rifles were all sent to the forefront. Only then were they spared from the nikancha harassment. Even if there were casualties in the battles, the rifles were immediately collected. Even the transport was handled entirely by Monolith to prevent any instances of crates 'falling into the canyons'.

Birkin once exasperatedly said that he spent more effort on dealing with the nikancha than the Shiksans. It was the same with the officers he sent to command the nikancha. Initially, they were obedient enough, but that didn't stay for long. They all listened only to their chiefs and elders, so the officers eventually ended up being nothing but strategists who suggested plans to the nikancha chiefs. It ended with them refusing to stay with the nikancha tribes any longer and heading straight back.

During the pursuit, the thousand mines Claude had assigned to Tribe 131 were the main contributors to their success. Initially, Myjack had planned to plant them on the roads to disrupt the Shiksan supply line. The total Shiksan retreat wasn't something they expected. So, Myjack led Tribe 131 to the rear of the Shiksans and managed to slow their pace down with the mines they had planted, allowing Birkin's follow-up forces to exterminate a folk of Shiksans that were cut off from the rest.

The Shiksans had wanted to send reinforcements to save their isolated brethren, only to be heavily wounded by mines Myjack had buried and be forced to hold back and watch the isolated men killed.

They'd done the best they could. It had not been enough. Had his men not been armed with the new rifles and had the cooperation of Myjack's tribe, there was no way Birkin could deal with a folk of determined and hardy Shiksan veterans. That was why despite all the advantages he had, Monolith still suffered around ten thousand casualties.

In the meantime, something else also occurred. As the mines weren't monitored like the rifles were, one box of mines transported by the nikancha was listed as having fallen off the canyon. The nikancha who personally handled that even personally swore that it was true and that the donkey he had carrying the box fell along with it.

Obviously, that was a lie. Nobody would transport only a box of mines with one donkey. The lie didn't even make sense, but Birkin couldn't be bothered with arguing, since the mines weren't as top secret as the new rifles were in the first place.

Little did the nikancha know they would simply be doing themselves a huge disservice. During the night, two loud explosions could be heard somewhere in their temporary camp. Almost everyone was startled and thought that the Shiksans had attacked. It was only after they checked that they found the two missing mines as well as a nikancha injured from the blast. They heard from him that he was hurt by the two mines.

It all went down rather simply. After the nikancha embezzled the box of four mines, a few chiefs wanted to celebrate. So, they took out the mines to appreciate the spoils of their efforts. However, they treated them like mortars and thought they worked like iron pumpkins. The four mines were pressure-activated, though the nikancha didn't know that and tried to look for the rope fuse without success.

As the chiefs discussed how it could work, one of them accidentally stepped on the pressure spring. He heard a click and was utterly elated, telling them that he found the activation switch. Another chief picked up a mine and pressed it. But when he couldn't find the fuse still, he tossed the mine at the table in annoyance, only to trigger an explosion. The mine in the hand of the other chief also blew up.

Seven chiefs from different tribal forces and some ten other partying nikancha were caught up in the explosion of the two mines. Had the nikancha that were serving them not been standing further away from the tent entrance, they would've lost their lives too.

Claude was completely speechless. He knew the nikancha were wondrous, but not to this extent. Because of that, Birkin got into a huge argument with four elders during the aftermath. The elders dared to blame the mishap on the theatre for not telling them about the existence of the mines, which would've prevented the tragic accident. With seven chiefs now dead, they said the theatre had proven itself unworthy of the nikancha's trust and cooperation.

"Claude, while we did win in this bout with the Shiksans, I can no longer bear working with the nikancha. We have to be more wary of them than we do the Shiksans. I hope you will support my view during the upcoming meeting at headquarters. I would rather have the nikancha as our enemies than allies," Birkin said.

Chapter 452 - Conclusions

Some 20 days later, Claude, Eiblont and Birkin brought their respective units, now temporarily organised into a line, to Lanu. After spending five days there for the funeral rites of the sacrificed warriors, Claude got a day's rest before he went home to tend to his many visitors. The next day, he went to the meeting at headquarters.

First, Colonel Fodres, the supervisor of the intelligence department, gave a report about the Shiksans. According to news from informants in Cape Loducus, they concluded that the three and a half Shiksan standing corps could no longer muster any force for an attack. They could only hope to survive and stockpile food.

Claude's sudden attack forced the Shiksan arms to be sold cheaply to the Fochsian officials. Even so, it was still a couple million.

However, he didn't sell the food stored in the base. Instead, he picked out all the ingredients normally reserved for high-ranking officers, as well as livestock that could be taken away and slaughtered when needed, before setting the rest of the food stores on fire.

The Shiksans had three main bases in Cape Loducus in total. Apart from the one near the city, there was a defensive one built near the border of the northern mountains where up to three months' worth of food for two corps was stored.

The camp near the border of the eastern mountains was where the attacks were launched from. It also served as a transfer point, so there wasn't much food stored there. It could only support three corps for a short number of days. The reason that was the case was that the Shiksans planned to attack the nikancha settlements to gather food.

Of the five Shiksan corps formed from the veterans, apart from the two stationed to defend the border of the northern mountains, the three in the east launched an attack. It was too bad the 200-thousand-strong force faced all sorts of trouble during the first month. They only managed to conquer the first defence line the theatre formed before their advance halted completely.

Killing more nikanchas was of no benefit to the Shiksans at all. In fact, their top brass intentionally stated that the nikancha didn't count for any military merit. For the Shiksans, their only true enemies were the two corps of the theatre. No matter which they ran into, whether it be Thundercrash or Monolith, it ended rather badly for them. Their casualty rate was enormous; it was even worse than losing three of their own for one enemy.

Sometimes, the Shiksan commanders themselves were shocked to hear about muskets that could fire consecutively and also have an accurate firing range past 150 metres. Not to mention, there was no need to light a slow match, which made them easier to hide at night and also usable in the rain. Lastly, there was also the hidden explosive weapons buried in the ground, all of which came as a new warfare experience for the Shiksans.

The Shiksan commanders weren't incompetent. They knew that if they had no countermeasures for the theatre's new weapons, there was no way they would be able to win in the colonial war.

However, their report about the new Aueran weapons to the kingdom was not well received. Majid III even wrote a personal letter to rebuke the high-ranking officers for being incompetent and making up lies to cover up for their losses!

Majid III and Shiks' ministry of the army naturally wouldn't believe their officers on Nubissia about the advanced weapons the Auerans had. If Aueras really had that kind of technology, they would've used it in the civil war between the two princes already.

There wasn't a single nation on Freia that would only assign new weapons to their colonial troops and leave their main troops out. Apart from the mortars, no other new weapon was sighted in those battles. If there were, the other nations would've long tried to develop some.

That was why Majid III and his ministry believed that their officers on Nubissia were merely trying to excuse themselves of their failures. Even though they had five corps against two, they still lost most of their conquered territory in the eastern mountains and even had their supply base in the rear completely ransacked and destroyed.

Not only that, the veterans in the two corps stationed to defend the northern mountain border were even more embarrassing. Despite having a really tough camp, they still ended up being blasted to ashes by Thundercrash's attack, leaving only ten thousand of them injured to varying degrees. The three corps of veterans in the east with 200 thousand men, on the other hand, couldn't even breach the second defence line defended only by a Monolith folk. It was nothing short of shameful!

That was the first war to start from the colony of Cape Loducus, as well as the fourth colonial war Shiks and Aueras had been involved in. The results were truly unexpected. Aueras, the underdog, managed to emerge victorious once more. All that remained of the five Shiksan standing corps was one and a half corps. Even if they included all their injured soldiers in the count, they wouldn't even have enough for two corps. It was nothing short of a complete disaster.

However, Shiks still had the ability to support the war. They only had to send their standing corps to Cape Loducus and recruit new soldiers to make up for the lost men to be able to gather seven more standing corps with 400 thousand men soon enough. There was still a chance for them to emerge victorious. Based on a cursory analysis on paper, Shiks did, in fact, have much more military might than the Aueran theatre.

However, Majid III and his ministry were still unaware of the true situation of the war. They were still under the impression that they only lost because their officers were incompetent. So, Majid III sent a loyal and gallant lieutenant-general to Cape Loducus along with his letter. The general was there to scold the cowardly, old and incompetent general, Count Norbridon Bang Belondi, in Majid III's stead.

Currently, there was only barely four standing corps in Cape Loducus. As most of the two corps stationed at the northern borders had been eliminated, the supplies that remained could still sustain the corps and a half that retreated from the east and the new reinforcements that just arrived for around two months.

The troops stationed near Cape Loducus City were the ones who just arrived in the third batch. They, on the other hand, were suffering from a food crisis. Apart from buying food from Cape Loducus City for a high price, the corps' soldiers were forced to fish and pick up shellfish from the coasts to keep themselves fed.

Most laughably was how the citizens of the city sold off all their food after raising their prices out of greed. There were only 20 thousand people living in the city, yet the Shiksan corps numbered up to 63 thousand people. The food stored by the citizens would only last the corps a month. Now, the whole colony had fallen into a huge food shortage.

The informants that infiltrated the city wrote that they basically had a cup of ale and one fish for lunch and dinner. There was no meat nor bread, and potatoes were rare luxuries. Food prices had grown up to ten times from before the war began. The poor city folk had sold their food for five times market price, only to have to buy them back at double the price they sold it for.

As the wild-bull company was still fulfilling the endless orders for ale by the Shiksans, even the Fochsian officers asked them whether they could help smuggle food from the theatre to the colony to be sold for a high price.

The Shiksans were in just as much of a rush to buy food from the rest of the continent to solve their crisis this time around, but it would take time to ship it back. Their food shortage was estimated to last for at least another month or so. As the one in charge of the wild-bull company, Borkal made an official request to the theatre to make a shipment of food there. They would make ten times the profit! Skri and Bolonik were still considering the matter.

According to Colonel Fodres' conclusive report, the Shiksans wouldn't pose a threat to the theatre and nikancha nation in the coming half year. They would need to let their injured troops recuperate, restock their food and supplies as well as wait for the following three standing corps to arrive. If there were no accidents, they should launch their attack anew during the 6th or 7th month.

The reason he came to such a conclusion was due to information from the Fochsian officials in Cape Loducus City that the next batch of three Shiksan corps would only arrive at the 4th month next year. Having learned their lesson from the recent battles, the Shiksans would let their men rest well before mounting an attack for maximum efficiency.

It was now the 10th month of Year 592. There would be eight whole months for the theatre to rest and recuperate. As Claude and the rest were fighting it out at the frontlines, Bolonik and Skri didn't slack off at the rear either. They had recruited a reserve legion and began training new troops.

The casualties suffered by Thundercrash and Monolith would be replaced by the talented ones in the reserve and garrison units.

After Fodres finished his report, it was time for Bolonik to speak. His core task was to inspire confidence into the theatre's high-ranking officials that they would win the war with the Shiksans. The war between the nikancha and the Shiksans had yet to affect the theatre negatively. In fact, civilian life standards had greatly improved.

The lack of support from the mainland caused the theatre to have to meet all demand for various supplies locally. The mass of orders instigated rapid growth in various industries. Any proprietor that could provide solutions to what the theatre needed would be able to earn a modest income.

The formation of the overseas bank also allowed the colonies to be financially independent of the mainland and kickstart their own development. Paper money was also smoothly rolled out and its use was spreading without issue, relieving the shortage of currency in the colonies. Bolonik excitedly told the officers that the overseas bank managed to print more than ten million crowns' worth of paper money and loaned up more than ten million crowns as well to inspire even more growth and development.

That was also the reason Bolonik could afford to form another reserve corps in the theatre. The economic development of the theatre came with many benefits. The yield from this year alone was enough to cover the military costs. If the development could continue for three years, the theatre would be able to achieve full military funding independence.

After Bolonik finished his speech, Skri reported on the financial and supply situation of the theatre throughout the war. Thanks to Claude sending two Thundercrash lines to sweep through the territory of the inland Shiksan colonies, the theatre obtained up to 13 million crowns' worth of gold and silver.

However, the theatre was faced with a problem on what to do with all those precious metals. There was no longer a need to mint them into coins. The overseas bank already had a reserve of eight million crowns, as well as thales and other coins. After their distribution of ten million crowns' worth of paper money, they noticed that few people came to exchange the notes for actual coins. Minting more of them would only cause undue burden to the colonies.

That problem, however, was easily solved. Claude gave them the idea to refine the metals into bars of standardized sizes with serial numbers. For instance, they would use a standard of a hundred catties and have a room at the headquarters of the overseas bank built to be stacked full of those gold and silver bars.

Anyone visiting the bank as well as the workers would be able to see the room through the glass and metal bars. For locals with high status, they could even be invited inside. Doing so would no doubt boost confidence in the paper notes issued by the bank. So long as the people knew the bank had enough reserves to back their currency up, they wouldn't lose faith in the paper currency.

While the idea was well received, it still required much discussion with the shareholders and personnel of the overseas bank. As for safety, Claude wasn't the least bit concerned. Even if someone dared to barge into and rob the bank, they wouldn't be able to leave with those heavy bars. It was an era without automobiles, so trying to bring solid bars of gold or silver away was nothing short of suicidal. They would be nothing more than dead weight.

When Skri finished his presentation, it was the turn of the three generals at the frontlines to give a conclusive report on the battles. Claude allowed Eiblont and Birkin to speak first. The two of them praised the new rifles nonstop and were of the opinion that if all their units could be armed with them, they would be able to defeat all ten Shiksan standing corps with no issue.

However, the factory at Blackstone Hills could only manufacture up to 30 thousand of them in a year. There would be a few more years before all their units could be armed with them.

Birkin also praised the mines much and thought it was a great weapon to slow the enemy down in a defensive battle. He expressed his wish for the theatre to have a bigger store of them. He also had some criticisms for the theatre's mortars, mainly their weaker explosive power and range relative to the iron pumpkins which caused Monolith's initial defensive battle to end with huge losses.

Apart from showing their awe for their new toys, the two generals also talked much about the strong-willed and stubborn Shiksan veterans who just wouldn't give up, even in death. The Shiksan commander-in-chief, Count Nobridon Bang Belondi, was also not easy to deal with. He was slimy and cunning, not to mention his impeccable tactics with few, if any, loopholes.

Had it not been for the advantage granted by their new weapons, the five Shiksan veteran corps would've been the match of the two theatre's two corps instead of being their inferior. Fortunately, Thundercrash and Monolith managed to wipe out three Shiksan corps, despite their own heavy losses, making the enemy much easier to deal with in the upcoming battles.

As for Thundercrash and Monolith's performance, Birkin focused on the folk of Monolith that partook in the battle in the eastern mountains. As large numbers of veterans were transferred to local garrisons, the new recruits weren't that mature and familiar with the battlefield, so they would often be affected by negative changes and lose confidence.

For instance, the loss of the first defence line had a great deal to do with the new recruits in Monolith, who panicked during the night attack and lost their chance to use the mortars. Later, when the nikancha crumbled and fled, the new recruits unconsciously went along with them.

Had they reformed and launched a counterattack, they would've been able to blow the Shiksans away from their flank. But by then, Birkin's orders were no longer able to find their way to the frontlines, so he hoped that the next batch of men to fill the empty ranks would be veterans, who would serve as the backbone of the force. It was, after all, the veterans Claude took to the second defence line that quickly stabilised the situation.

Chapter 453 - Meeting and Decisions

Claude was the one to give a conclusive remark on the war. He spoke much about how Thundercrash had never suffered such heavy casualties since its formation, with almost half of its troops either dead or injured. However, they were able to resist the Shiksan attack and obtain ultimate victory. They could already be considered a toughened and matured force and the legacy of the sacrificed would be passed on through Thundercrash's reputation as a glorious and iron-blooded force.

He also discussed the difference between the use of mortars in offensive and defensive situations, as well as the issue with supplying rounds for the new rifles. He only glossed over the development of snipers and mines, since they didn't see too much action in the war, mainly because there were too few test cases with numbers being so low.

He talked about the most about the chaotic battle which he had personally witnessed. He was so agitated that he even balked at Bolonik for being so stingy with the ammunition, much to the latter's utter flabbergastment, though he didn't argue with him about it.

That was because Claude only spoke the truth. He knew that Claude was someone who felt the hurt from losing his subordinates. There was no way he would be able to shake off that feeling of regret after losing so many men.

Claude said that had the junior officers all been given a revolver, Thundercrash would've only lost a few thousand fewer soldiers in the battle. The loss of so many talented, young officers came as quite a blow to him. It could've been prevented had they been armed with revolvers.

But the price of only five crowns per revolver Bolonik made to him wouldn't even be enough to cover the costs. They would need to sell them at double that price to even break even, so the theatre cancelled that order for them.

Compared to the pension that had to be paid for the 30 thousand casualties, an extra 50 thousand crowns cost much less. That was why Claude was so mad he even slammed the table to criticise Bolonik.

In truth, Bolonik wasn't stingy for the sake of being so. He simply didn't understand the kind of function a revolver could play in combat. He believed that with their new rifles, they would be able to eliminate their enemies from far away, so a revolver with a much closer firing range would be a nonessential decorative piece. Given the theatre's tight funding, they had no choice but to cancel the order for the revolvers.

Claude then talked about the performance of the various units of Thundercrash. He was in agreement with Birkin that they would have to take in some veterans to fill up the ranks and form a backbone for their force to help the new recruits grow. The presence of veterans on the battlefield would help the new recruits perform much better. They could also learn from them by example.

After Claude finished, Bolonik assigned the tasks to the various officers before adjourning the meeting. However, Claude and the rest still couldn't leave. They would go on to discuss among all five of them the aftermath of the colonial war.

From a certain point of view, the true purpose of the discussion was to consider whether the theatre should continue cooperating with the nikancha on resisting the Shiksans. At the very start of the talk, Claude, Eiblont and Birkin were unanimous in their opinion that cooperation was no longer possible.

Birkin complained that it took him more effort to pay attention to the nikancha than to resist the Shiksan attack. Precautions also had to be made to prevent the nikancha from causing them trouble. Them not following orders was a small matter relative to the other matters. The most crucial problem was how they were constantly eyeing the theatre's new rifles like hungry hyenas, which Birkin absolutely couldn't tolerate.

Eiblont also said he always had to be wary of the nikancha who were stationed at crucial points at the borders of the northern mountains, especially with how they refused to participate in the attack on the Shiksan camp. He also believed cooperating with the nikancha brought the theatre no benefit at all. They were more of a burden if anything, and letting it go on would cause the theatre even more losses, especially when it came to logistics and supply.

Claude, on the other hand, was angered by the nikancha to the point that he was at a loss for what to do. He had often looked back at the help he offered them when he sent his men to clear out the inland Shiksan colonies and split three-tenths of the spoils he got to them despite them not contributing at all. The gold and silver ingots he gave out was worth four million crowns. When Skri heard about the amount, he had a lot of nasty things to say about Claude.

Yet, the nikancha didn't give it their all after receiving the theatre's token of goodwill. Initially, they sent ten thousand of their youths to follow the theatre's command and help out with resisting the Shiksan offence. But the moment things turned bad, they immediately deserted their posts. Even though a heroic nikancha stood up and sacrificed himself to inspire the rest, the problems came back again in the latter stages of the war.

They didn't follow orders and often acted on their own, which was the least of the theatre's troubles, since the nikancha were the ones who would be suffering the losses anyway. They could even close one eye to all the supply crates they 'dropped into the canyon'. But coming for the two corps' new rifles was something an ally should never even attempt. The nikancha had crossed a line.

What infuriated Claude the most was how they even threatened to give up on the area they defended in an attempt to get the Shiksan catapults and iron pumpkins when Claude returned to the northern mountains to rest his men. After Claude refused them many times, they left without giving any notice, thinking that they would be able to force Claude's hand that way. Claude didn't know where they got the gall to do such a thing.

This time, he was truly infuriated by their sheer arrogance. He had ordered Thundercrash to occupy the whole of the northern mountain region and forbade entry to all nikancha. Since they gave up on it on their own volition, they couldn't blame him from taking it. His orders were clear: since the day the nikancha left without notice, the northern mountainous coasts was now war-theatre territory.

Birkin would rather have the nikancha as the theatre's enemies, since that was far more relaxing than having them as allies. As enemies, all they needed to do was to have a line of garrison troops watch them. But as allies, they would have to send a few lines to protect them every time they planned for an operation. Otherwise, they would immediately crumble on the battlefield and affect the rest of their deployments.

Eiblont hated the disobedient nikancha with a passion. There was no way he would accept them as allies unless they learned to follow orders to the last letter. They didn't need to be brave. At least, they should be able to play the role of cannon fodder. If they couldn't do even that, the theatre wouldn't have a need for them anyway.

Claude's intentions were clear. No matter whether the theatre continued to work with or fight the nikancha, the northern mountainous coasts occupied by Thundercrash was undisputed war-theatre territory. There was no way it would be handed back to the nikancha nation.

Bolonik was quite troubled by these developments. He thought that turning against the nikancha should at least wait until the colonial wars with the Shiksans ended. Cutting an ally off so soon after the war started was no way to go. There would be half a year before the Shiksans continued their attack. Perhaps it would be wiser to wait for Borkal to return from Cape Loducus to send him to the nikancha nation to see what was going on, so putting this matter on hold ought to be the better thing to do.

Among the five greats, Skri was the one in the most awkward position. He was in agreement with Claude, Eiblont and Birkin's stance, but he couldn't bring himself to cut the nikancha off as allies. In the half a year since the war started, a third of the arms the theatre produced had been sold to them for a high price. The spoils obtained from the Shiksan troops were similarly sold to them for double the market price. They earned nearly two million crowns from them easily.

The theatre should put up with such great customers to sell to, especially after how Claude gave them so much of their share of spoils for little to no effort. Initially, Skri didn't really mind the deal since he thought they were at most going to get some mining tools and useless spoils.

Little did he know that the Shiksans actually stockpiled yields worth over 17 million crowns over the past two years. Upon hearing that, Bolonik finally came to understand where Shiks' insane military spending power came from and how they were still able to form ten standing corps to continue the colonial war after suffering three huge losses.

But after that, they immediately thought it through again because of the thirty-percent share Claude promised the nikancha. Fortunately, Skri managed to take advantage of the fact that the nikancha weren't that good at math. He ordered the pile of ingots worth 17 million to be split into one worth 13 million and another worth four million crowns and told them that was their share.

The nikancha counted that thirty percent of 13 million was 3.9 million. In their minds, the theatre had given them an extra 100 thousand crowns' worth, so they happily left with their share and thought Skri to be a generous fellow.

That was why while Skri wasn't against cutting them off, it had to wait until they were able to get the four million crowns' worth of ingots from them back first. Lately, Skri had been having his subordinates try to market as many daily necessities as they could to them. Half of the orders the theatre's factories processed were from the nikancha.

In the end, Bolonik decided to put the matter on hold and wait until after the new year to see whether the nikancha offered any explanation. Next came the matter of taking over the defence. It was already a foregone conclusion. The colonies would send six garrison lines to defend the northern mountainous coasts and the eastern mountains.

With six garrison lines made up of veterans taking over, Thundercrash and Monolith could retreat to recover. At the very least, they could rest better than letting the nikancha defend the place. By the time half a year passes and Thundercrash and Monolith goes back to fight the Shiksans back, the six lines could work together with them to resist the Shiksan advance.

Next, they came to the topic of revolvers. Bolonik humbly accepted Claude's criticism and decided to have all junior officers of the theatre armed with their personal revolver at the price of ten crowns as suggested by Claude, with 30 rounds to go with it. But upon more thought, Claude still refused to let Blackstone Arms Factory take that order.

Claude explained that the factory was going full steam to produce Sonia 591s. It wouldn't have any more effort to spare to form another production line for revolvers. Instead, Claude suggested making a new factory complex to produce revolvers and mortars for the theatre. The design of the mortars had to be reworked anyway, so Claude decided to have one of Weyblon's mortar-producing factories be isolated out to start another production line for revolvers. New shareholders were also welcome to buy in as well.

There was nothing that was better at drawing people closer than profit. Claude's suggestion came as a welcome surprise. Each of the generals contributed ten thousand crowns to the business, each taking ten percent ownership of the new factory. Claude, being the inventor of the mortars and revolvers, only paid ten thousand to get thirty percent of the shares. Ten of the remaining thirty percent would be given to Weyblon for his role in managing the place, though he also had to pay 100 thousand for his share.

The other 20 would be reserved for rewarding people who invented new weapons. Bolonik was quite worried they wouldn't have enough to get the factory going, so they borrowed another 500 thousand crowns in Claude's name from the overseas bank for no interest as a precaution. When the agreement was signed, the order for the revolvers was raised to 20 thousand units and the price 'mysteriously' became 18 crowns each.

When everything was settled, they continued their discussion on Borkal's suggestion to 'smuggle' food to Cape Loducus for sale. The food price there was now ten times it previously was, so it was a great chance to make some money. It was more profitable than robbery.

Eiblont and Birkin immediately refused, citing this as an example of benefiting the enemy. They also believed selling food to them could allow the enemy to recover faster and launch an attack before the theatre was ready. They would have shot themselves in the foot and it would be too late for any regrets.

Skri was of the opinion they should sell, but not in bulk amounts. It should be fine to keep the smuggling at a small scale that would profit the theatre and also help the wild-bull company earn the Shiksans' trust for better information collection.

Bolonik was ambivalent about the matter. He thought all their views made equal sense, so he turned to Claude for an answer.

Claude gave it some thought and said that Fodres from the intelligence department mentioned that Cape Loducus was also in a food crisis. The Shiksans were busy buying food from the other nations in the continent and it would take them a month at the earliest to ship anything back. During that time, both the Shiksans and the Fochsian citizens would have to rely on ale and fish to keep their hunger away.

Since they wouldn't starve to death in that month anyway, there was the option of selling them food enough for that month. A rough estimation put the 100 thousand Fochsian citizens to consume 300 thousand catties each day, so they would only consume 10 million catties at most in a month. The Shiksans wouldn't be able to recover much with that amount, anyway. With how badly they were trying to save their food, there was no way they'd dare attack on a half-empty stomach.

And so it was decided that the wild-bull company would sell 10 million catties of food to Cape Loducus under the guise of smuggling. Skri was quite happy about the price, which would net the theatre 40 thousand crowns. While it didn't seem like much, it was a significant help to the current financial situation. It was a shame that transaction would only happen once.

Next, they settled some matters about pensions and crippled aid, only to run into another pressing problem: the promotion of their troops. In the past, officers that earned merit would have their names submitted to the kingdom for approval. The ministry of the army was the one to authorise such requests.

Rewarding the troops financially wasn't a problem since the theatre was financially independent. The spoils of the battles were also regularly split among the troops anyway. During the past three colonial wars, the ministry of the army would also send some prize money as a reward. So, when the veterans ran out of cash, they would always look forward to fighting in the next war.

But with the theatre now cut off from the mainland and not knowing how the civil war was developing at all, there was no way a name list of promotions could be submitted. In that case, would they be able to get their promotions at all?

Claude and the other generals didn't really care about promotions, but it was crucial in the careers of the corps' junior officers. Just giving rewards without promotions would harm the troops' morale, yet they didn't have their own authority to give promotions. They were stuck in a dilemma.

In the end, Claude made the decision to allow the promotions all the way up to the lieutenant-colonel rank. They would be promoted according to their merit and given their due rewards. If colonels had impressive contributions, those would be marked down for future consideration, since the generals of the theatre didn't have the authority to give those promotions. The rest could be dealt with normally. The most they had to do was support a follow-up report at a later date.

Since it was wartime, any measure that led to victory should be undertaken. There was no point in worrying about other matters. The other generals mulled it over before going with that solution.

Chapter 454 - New Research

Claude didn't get to spend much time with his family. After calling on Weyblon for two days of talks, Lanu Arms Factory was founded to produce revolvers and mines. Weyblon was really thankful to Claude for letting him take part in the arms factory. It meant that his household had a formal relationship with the theatre's five generals now. He would be among the most influential on the continent.

Weyblon used to be a normal member of the mining association, a mere proprietor. But since he met Claude and rented him his manor, he became his friend. Soon, he got Claude's attention and was invited to found the iron factory together to create the hot-air and steam-powered engines, and later, the mortars. That caused his status to further skyrocket.

Within the mining association, his words now held real weight, because he represented General Claude, one of the big five in the theatre. And now that he was invited to start another arms factory and heard that he owned ten percent of the shares just like the other generals, he was all too touched. He puffed his chest out and promised to not let Claude down.

After leaving the formation of the new factory to Weyblon and the restaffing of Thundercrash to Eiblont, Claude went to the iron factory to start work on upgrading the mortars. He was going to create three types of rounds and two types of launchers, one for attack and another for defence.

The three rounds were differentiated by their weight and labelled A, B and C type. The light kind was no different from the current mortars the theatre developed, the medium type had double the gunpowder and was larger in size, and the heavy type was akin to the Shiksan iron pumpkins, perhaps even heavier for more explosive power. Those three types were easily prototyped and would soon be mass produced.

The rounds took only three days to create. The problem was how they would deliver the payload. The research on designing a launcher mechanism that matched Claude's range requirements, however, was much harder. The defensive launcher could be a direct copy of the Shiksan catapults. It would even be fine if it was somewhat heavier.

Defensive launchers were required to launch type-A rounds past 250 metres and type-B rounds past 200 metres. The heaviest type-C round should at least be able to be flung 150 metres away. It also needed to be operated by the fewest number of people possible and have an adjustable firing range and direction.

The attack launcher, on the other hand, was much harder to design to Claude's specifications. First, it couldn't take more than four people to operate, with three as the ideal number. Additionally, its firing range for type-A rounds had to be 200 metres, 150 metres for type-B rounds and 100 metres for type-C rounds. The launcher itself didn't have to be a single unit and could be disassembled and reassembled on site to ensure mobility and flexibility.

Weyblon's iron factory mainly produced hot-air and steam-powered engines currently. With the development throughout the colonies, the engines became a popular choice to power smaller workshops. There were orders to fulfil all the way to half a year later. Either way, that division of the factory still wasn't too profitable as much had been invested into Liboyd's research on a train car. Success was just on the horizon.

If the train car could successfully be created, the railroad company could finally start. But in the past year, the factory made seven train car prototypes, all of which ran into various problems during the test runs. The longest time one ran was eleven hours. Six of them had already been scrapped. Liboyd's team of engineers could only progress a step at a time, and he estimated it would take them another year to make a proper steam-powered locomotive.

Since the Greytower magi assassination incident back then, the theatre did a thorough search and found 17 rogue magi living in seclusion. However, the theatre didn't control magic that strictly like the kingdom on the mainland did. They only did some simple investigation on whether they broke any laws. After making sure they were law-abiding magi with nothing to do with Greytower, they were let off with a simple registration.

The theatre didn't consider rogue magi enemies to be wary about. Instead, they discovered that the magi's magic items they sold during peacetime did wonders for daily life. A few magi were also patronised guests of powerful households in the theatre. After the assassination, those households made a report to the theatre immediately to aid with the investigation.

However, not many knew about the investigation on the 17 magi, though Bolonik was more aware of the finer circumstances, such as how a few among the magi used to be registered magi of the kingdom who had escaped to the colonies because they wanted to be free of the Watch's control. After some consideration, he decided on investigating them for any wrongdoing and releasing them if they didn't.

When Claude found out about that after he recovered from the assassination, he got a list of the magi and handed Angelina a copy. After she and Bloweyk did their own deeper investigations, they managed to recruit six of them, all rune magi, to be assistants for Blackstone Arms Factory. They signed a 20-year work contract and handed over their families for them to control.

Liboyd, as Sonia's father, knew about the inner workings of Blackstone, as well as the magi. He believed it to be a rather good idea and told Weyblon about it. So, Weyblon requested Claude for help and got the list of the remaining eleven magi. After some background checks, he hired three of the rogue magi to be Liboyd's assistants in the research on the steam-powered train for a high price.

Claude also received Liboyd and the other magi's help in his launcher research. Following some ten days of tests, they finalised the design of the launchers and Claude handed the blueprints to Weyblon for them to be produced as soon as possible. Priority was given to the defensive launchers so they could be deployed at the defences in the mountain areas.

After going back to rest for two days, Claude set out again for Port Vebator to inspect Blackstone Arms Factory. Sometimes, he found it rather regrettable that he didn't make any progress with his tube-firing mortar even though his catapult launchers could now fire past 200 metres. If he knew he was going to transmigrate, he would've studied more on military technology, especially the components of the weapons. That way, he wouldn't have to trouble himself over primitive weapons such as those.

Currently, he was researching his weapons blind. He only knew what they looked like, but not their internal structures. He wasn't much of a military nut in the first place, nor did he major in engineering. The only reason he was able to make the new rifles was thanks to Sonia's deep love for firearms since her childhood. Asking her to work on something so radically different like mortars and other light artillery wouldn't really yield many results.

As expected, Angelina and Sonia's research didn't turn out much. Fortunately, Claude now had launcher and round replacements for his mortars, so he wasn't in that much of a rush. The reason for his visit to the factory was only to hurry the two up in the production of the sniper rifles and the mines.

The theatre had gotten Blackstone to make a thousand sniper rifles, but they were all made using arrays rather than standard machine production. Angelina personally made ten and got sick of it, so it was delayed. Claude only got ten at his disposal.

He knew how mundane a job it would be to make a thousand of those rifles with an array. No rune magus would bear doing such a boring job. It required a lot of energy and focus to operate an array to make equipment so delicate, after all. Given that machine production still couldn't rival hand-made products in accuracy and detail, there was no way to make the parts necessary for the much more complicated sniper rifles.

Due to the need of keeping things secret, Angelina and Sonia didn't get the other six magi to make those sniper rifles. But if production counted only on the two of them, who knew how long it would take to complete a thousand?

Claude had no choice but to tell them that they could hand production over to the six magi. All the two had to do was to work on the final assembly. That way, they could only delegate the making of the parts and keep the weapon secret. If necessary, they could just ask the magi to make a few unrelated parts to further obfuscate the purpose of the parts. That way, no single magus would have to work on the production of the whole rifle.

He really didn't know what went on in the two women's minds. The new rifles were already in mass production, so there wasn't really a point in keeping the sniper rifle secret. They were just tools to kill made using an array. It didn't really make a difference for Claude.

Additionally, he also needed Sonia to make another production line for rounds. The new rifles consumed far too much ammunition, after all. The rounds for the sniper rifles, on the other hand, had to be specially made by a small group of people. Unlike the rounds for the Sonia 591, snipers couldn't waste shots and had to make every round count, hence the lower consumption.

However, when Claude told the two about increasing production for mines, Sonia's expression immediately darkened. She said Blackstone no longer had any ability to produce more mines because they were totally stripped for manpower. The one thousand mines they got last time was thanks to the six rune magi. The arms factory had no way of starting a new production line for mines.

The mines were rather profitable to make, and the theatre couldn't really be bothered with haggling the price down now that their finances were much better. They ordered ten thousand mines and were going to plant them near anywhere ships could dock to decrease the manpower needed for defence. Claude told the theatre each mine would cost two crowns, but in actuality, each only cost less than three thales to make.

Claude gave it some thought and had his guards send Weyblon a letter about starting the production line in Lanu Arms Factory in exchange for a grant of ten thousand crowns and ten percent shares. The shares would be split equally between Sonia and Angelina. He asked Weyblon to write to the other generals as well for their agreement.

This was business; private and professional lines had to be drawn clearly. Letting Weyblon be the one to inform the other generals about it was so that he could gain the favour of the other four shareholders. After all, he managed to take business from Blackstone Arms Factory, which, strictly speaking, was Claude's private property as it belonged to House Ferd.

Lanu Arms Factory belonged to everyone who had a share in it. Bolonik naturally wouldn't be aware that Blackstone was actually no longer able to spare manpower for another production line because they were busy with producing new rifles, so letting Weyblon tell them about the new business opportunity would increase their evaluation of him as his own businessman rather than someone working for Claude.

With the tube mortar not going anywhere, the production of sniper rifles divided among the six magi, and the purchase order for the mines no more, Angelina and Sonia's load was immediately lightened. Angelina could focus on teaching the students, something she usually didn't have time for. As for Sonia and Claude, they put their minds together for a few days. Once she felt they were making little progress, she had Claude think of a few new things to research.

Claude did have some ideas. There were two militaristic ones and one for civilians. For the first two, they were explosive shot and rockets. Claude felt that the light-infantry cannons were pretty useless following the introduction of the mortar. Apart from using scattershot from little more than a hundred metres away, round shot, which could shoot up to 800 metres away, had lost its threat.

Birkin mentioned during the meeting that they used to be able to use light-infantry cannons to attack enemy catapult operators, but a few wooden shields were all the Shiksans needed to block the cannonballs. Loading and shooting round shot took much more time than simply replacing damaged wooden shields. It was only through the precise damage the new rifles could deal that they managed to hold the Shiksan iron pumpkins back.

It was the same when Claude attacked the Shiksan camp near the northern mountains. Apart from mounting a surprise attack, he also had the captives build mud walls around a metre tall. The Shiksans' light-infantry cannons were rendered useless that way, and they were blasted apart later by mortar rounds, allowing Thundercrash to easily take those fortifications.

It was as if Claude's invention of the mortars had propelled warfare in this world in a whole 'nother direction. The cannons weren't nearly as threatening as mortars now. Without exploding shot, cannons would be rather pointless. The past few hundred years in history had taught the armies of various nations countermeasures against cannons, such as sandbags, mud walls and wooden shield carts. The mortars that fell from the sky were far more threatening and effective.

Claude was going to start research on exploding shot. He recalled that they existed as far back as the Ming dynasty, so he thought he'd be able to come up with it as well. He believed the hardest part was the round of the cannon. As a complete layman in weapons, he drew a diagram of a modern missile. The payload was situated at the head of the round and once the whole round was fired, the jacket of the round would be ejected and the payload would explode upon contact. As for what caused the explosion within, Claude had no idea where to start.

The more he tried to explain it, the more confused Sonia got. Claude was describing a howitzer, which was completely different from muzzle-loading light-infantry cannons of this age. In the end, Sonia chased him out of the lab, thinking he was insanely making things up.

As for the rockets, Claude thought about it because he recalled reading about it in detail in a web novel in his past life. The protagonist of that novel transmigrated to late Ming and began collecting subordinates and women in his harem. His invention of firearms and cannons allowed him to sweep through the continent and crown himself emperor of his own dynasty. The story was so cookie cutter that Claude even forgot the name of the protagonist.

However, the novel did go into great detail about rockets. Initially, the protagonist started with really limited funding and equipment and wasn't able to resist the enemy assault at all. So, he created a rocket by simply rolling a few sheets of metal into a tube, filling it with gunpowder and phosphorus, sharpening the tip and adding three tail fins. Then, he put it on a metal rack and lit it up.

Just like that, the metal tube flew off into the enemy camp in the distance before exploding. The phosphorus spread fire all over the place. The protagonist only used a simple rocket like that to resist the two enemy attacks before gaining all the riches and beauties that came with his victory. It was said that the only weakness it had was the inability to hit its target with great accuracy. Sometimes, it could also threaten the lives of those operating the rocket.

Sonia was quite intrigued by the idea and decided to research deeper into it. But she wasn't willing to hear any detailed descriptions by Claude lest he messed up her train of thought.

As for the research topic for civilians, he was going to have his sister work on it. It was the creation of cigarettes. Claude rolled up some white paper with tobacco inside to make a cigar replacement, albeit without a filter. Claude wanted her to make a device that could help with the rolling of the cigarettes for mass production.

He believed that cigarettes would ensure that House Ferd had no lack of funds in the future.

Chapter 455 - Tobacco Business

Five days before new year's eve, Claude got Angelina, her students, Sonia and her son back to Anna Farmstead in Anfiston. The world of Faslan didn't really celebrate new year's day itself, but new year's celebrations were more or less the equivalent. The three days before the arrival of the new year was akin to Lunar New Year. It was a time for relaxing, visiting friends and relatives, and going to the shrines to pray for a better year.

The obedient Marcus was much to Claude's liking. He was his first son, though illegitimate he may be. He bore the same family name as Sonia and would grow up to inherit her and Liboyd's legacy. Compared to his two little bear cubs at home, Marcus was the model good child. Even Angelina was full of praises for him, especially when it came to his talent in magic, which was about Angelina's level.

If possible, Claude wanted to spend new year's with Sonia and her son in the farmstead for new year's eve, but this year wouldn't do, as Claude's family had just moved out of Weyblon Manor into Ferd Manor, which Claude had built. It would be the first new year's eve they'd be spending in their new home, so he naturally had to be there. If he wasn't mistaken, he would also be expecting lots of visitors, so he had to play the good host at home.

He really didn't have a choice. The higher his rank and position was, the more freedoms he had to give up, especially for networking with all sorts of people. He looked wantingly at Sonia and her child, unwilling to bid them goodbye, as he took Angelina to the new manor to see his wife, children and mother.

Ferd Manor was built in the new villa residential area near Lake Lanu, the most luxurious place there was. There used to be a small stone hill there, but the hill was flattened as the citizens of Lanu chipped it down gradually for building material. When Lanu was being renovated into a city, the planner saw what remained of the hill and decided to transplant a couple of tall trees there regardless of the cost to make a peaceful luxury living space.

Through the flat and wide carriageway, Claude and the rest quickly arrived at Ferd Manor. It was built near the lake as his family loved the view there. The architect made an exquisite little walkway that led to the lake and even built a small pier there where two small, wooden boats were docked.

The snowhound, now half a man tall, excitedly circled around Claude and sniffed his pants nonstop. Angelina's eyes glowed at the sight of the dog before calling out to him affectionately by its name, 'Little Snowball'. The snowhound immediately ran towards her and abandoned Claude to himself. On the other hand, a few small dogs with black and white fur barked at Claude, as if they were trying to prevent this two-legged invader from encroaching on their territory.

They were the children between Pluto, the snowhound, and a black, female hunting dog Weyblon brought. Claude had read about them in Kefnie's letters. She had wanted to get another snowhound to be Pluto's match, yet Pluto never fancied any of them and even prevented them from entering the manor.

But when Weyblon went hare hunting with his dog and ran into Kefnie, who was walking Pluto, he stopped to greet her, only to notice Pluto circling the black hunting dog nonstop while shaking its tail. It even tried to stop Weyblon from taking the dog away. He smiled and left the dog behind, after which it soon bore seven pups with white-and-black fur.

It all happened while Claude was at the frontlines, which Kefnie's letters informed him about. But even after the war, he was all too busy dealing with the aftermath. Now, he was treated by the seven pups as a complete stranger. He found the little ones quite endearing, so he squatted down to toy with them a little. It didn't take long before they completely forgot that he was a stranger and happily fooled around with him.

"Wow, little Snowball, are these your children? They're too cute!" Angelina squealed and dashed past Claude before hugging two of the pups in her arms to play with them.

After stroking the excited snowhound on the head, he stood up, nodded a greeting to Butler Alek and said, "Prepare some hot water. I need to take a bath. Then, make some food for my guards."

"Yes, Master. The hot water will be ready soon. Madam and the two young masters are taking a nap. Shall I wake them?" Alek said, leading the way.

"There's no need. Just send some food to my study. By the way, Alek, I have a large chest in the carriage I need taken to my study."

After taking a refreshing, warm bath, Claude went to his study. There was a luxurious food tray in front of his desk. He took two pieces of white bread and sandwiched some venison in between before munching it down. He had missed lunch on the way back and felt quite starved.

In the chest placed on the ground was the cigarette-rolling machine Angelina invented with Claude's guidance. Back in his old world when he went clubbing with his boss, he saw one antique cigarette roller in one of those clubs. It was said to have come from Nanyang Brothers Tobacco. The club would also let their guests make their own cigarettes with that antique machine.

After filling his stomach, he went over the candidates he could put in charge of the cigarette sales as he sipped his red tea. He didn't really care whether it was bad for health to smoke cigarettes. In this age, smoking was luxury spending. Only people with a certain level of spending power could enjoy it. Not to mention, tobacco was a good substance to keep one awake, which was ideal for herbalists to prescribe for dizziness or lack of appetite.

How would Myjack do? No, his career was developing well in the military. After the evaluation, he would be promoted to colonel, and in time, a general. As for Bloweyk, he definitely wouldn't be willing to retire from the force. Angelina wouldn't have time, given how she was occupied teaching her students to ensure House Ferd had a secret magic unit. Sonia was busy running Blackstone Arms Factory.

Claude wasn't just going to let someone else take over a business this profitable, so Weyblon and the rest were out of the question. It was a business that would amass mountains of wealth for House Ferd. Claude was confident that with his status, he could monopolise this killer business all by himself. However, he needed to find the right person to execute it first.

During dinner, his mother began yammering at Angelina. She said that even though the snowhound already had seven pups, Angelina didn't give birth even once after being married to Myjack for years and even asked the two of them to go to the apothecary to get checked so it wouldn't drag on.

Angelina shot Claude a frustrated look. He immediately recognised that this was the reason she was less and less keen on returning home. However, he shrugged helplessly. It wasn't within his authority to do anything about this.

Kefnie, on the other hand, offered a huge hand. She brought up Bloweyk's marriage to divert the topic. Claude could easily see the kind of trouble Bloweyk and Myjack would be in when they came a few days later. One would be hurried to join marriage meetings while the other would be forced to impregnate his wife by his mother-in-law.

After dinner, Claude took Kefnie, Alek and the first servant of the household, the retired Kester, to his study.

"Alek, I recall that your eldest son, Swenson, is already 31. Has he learned butlery from you?" Claude asked.

"Yes, Master. I left the stable and the kitchen of the manor in his hands to train his management skills. Did he cause any trouble?" Alek asked worriedly.

"No, he's done well. However, I will be taking you off your post to let your son take charge."

The butler's face paled immediately. "Master, I'm only 53 this year. I can work a decade or so more. Swenson doesn't have enough experience either and he'll overlook many things if he becomes the head butler now..."

"Apologies, Alek, you misunderstood me. I'm not trying to fire you." He stretched his hand out to calm him down. He had forgotten that Alek bore the trauma of being chased out by the third-generation descendant of the count he served, which made him extremely sensitive to this.

"You've become one of the most trusted people in this household, Alek. I've taken note of your loyalty and great service. You're one of us now, so I would never kick you out," Claude consoled. Seeing him calm down, he nodded and continued.

"I'm letting Swenson take over because I have something even more important I need you to do. It is something House Ferd's fate depends on for centuries to come. I can't see any candidate more fitting than you."

He pointed at the chest in the study. "Corporal Kester, please take the thing inside the chest out."

Kester opened the chest and lifted the machine onto the desk.

"The rest of you should come too." He waited for Kefnie, Kester and Alek to gather around the desk. "This is a cigarette roller. Anna invented it to roll cigarettes. I know you aren't aware of what a cigarette is yet, but you'll understand after I explain it.

"The small wooden box here is for storing tobacco leaves. There's a switch here that causes some of the leaves to fall down there, just enough for one roll. This thin paper is cigarette paper. We'll put this paper here and apply some glue to the ends of the paper. Then, we push the lever to let the leaves fall down to the centre of the paper. Now, we'll turn this valve here. Look at how the paper gets rolled up automatically. Let go of the valve and it opens back up with the cigarette rolled up."

He picked the cigarette up. "Now, I'm sure you want to know what this is for. Corporal Kester, you like to use a smoking pipe, right? Have a taste of this cigarette. By the way, I have a smoking tip here. Put the cigarette roll inside the tip and light up the other end. Take a huff."

Kester soon felt the high of the nicotine rush. "Master, this is far more convenient than using a pipe. The tobacco scent is also deep and wonderful. It's rather addictive."

By now, Kefnie and Alek knew what he was getting at. She asked, "Claude, you want Alek to run this cigarette business?"

"Yes. It will become the biggest source of wealth for our household. Don't look down on cigarettes. Think about it: if this becomes a regular military supply, even if one sells for only one penny, 100 thousand soldiers consuming one each day would net us quite a lot of money. Those who like it can easily smoke 30 of these a day. There are 365 days in a year. Think about the kind of profits we'll make!"

Kefnie and Alek shuddered involuntarily. They could only imagine the kind of profits that awaited them, and that was only with them marketing to the military. If it was marketed to civilians as well, the profits would be much higher. Kester, however, wasn't really good with numbers, nor could he read. So, he merely enjoyed his cigarette alone.

"H-how many cigarettes can one machine make in a day?" Kefnie asked.

"Anna estimated that a fast learner can make ten a minute at least, so we'll have 600 an hour. With a workday of ten hours a day, we'll be able to make five thousand, or even double if the operator is practised enough."

Eight-hour workdays with two-day breaks during the weekends didn't exist in this world. Normal privately employed people had to work 12 hours a day. Only skilled workers were given better treatment, though they still had to work around ten hours.

Sonia had wanted to get the workers at Blackstone Arms Factory to work through the night, even, perhaps with two sets of workers in shifts. Thankfully, Claude told her that lengthening the work time too much would decrease productivity instead. He managed to convince her to hire three batches of workers to alternate through their shifts instead, since they were going to expand the factory anyway, making him the softest and most caring boss there was.

"I have the designs for the machine which you can get others to make." He picked up his briefcase and took out a folder with the blueprints and a plan.

"Master, I feel a little dizzy after finishing it."

He seemed to be suffering from nicotine poisoning. Kester usually only smoked a pinch of leaves from his pipe, instead of enough for a whole cigarette.

"The leaves have been refined by Anna, Kester. One puff is about as strong as one smoke from your pipe. Taking tens of puffs at once will obviously be a little too much. Just lie down and you'll be fine." He only meant for Kester to give it a try, not for him to finish the whole thing.

He tapped on the plan and said, "There are five tobacco recipes which Anna came up with through her experiments. There's one that doesn't taste as heavy, which is fit for women, and four others ranging from highest to lowest quality. We can produce those five types. The highest-quality ones can be used to make cigars, just like that, handmade. The green bark paper has to be specially made to differentiate it from normal cigarettes. But it must be sold at a high price as a luxury product.

"The other four can be used to make cigarettes of 20 per pack, priced differently. The ones made with tobacco flakes taste the heaviest and are the cheapest, with the smallest profit margin. But this product will go for high-volume production. I trust it will be popular among the general public. As for the other three, some herbs can be mixed in to dilute the taste of tobacco to give them some other fragrance. The recipes are all written down, so follow them accordingly."

Alek received the plan from Claude, excited. "Master... Are... are you really going to let me be in charge of this?"

Claude nodded. "Of course. You're the most trusted in our household. This business will make or break our prosperity for the century to come. Who but you is fit for it?"

"Master, Madam, I will live up to your expectations the best I can without disappointing you," Alek said, resolved.

"Kefnie, how much money do we have at home?" Claude asked.

"Around 34 thousand crowns."

"I'll transfer 70 thousand to you tomorrow when I go to the bank. We'll invest 100 thousand crowns in the business. I'll leave you in charge of finances while Butler Alek will take care of production. You'll be the one that makes all the decisions on finances. Kester, I'll leave the safety of the factories to you. By the way, what's the old man Zakrassen doing nowadays?"

Zakrassen was the old ambassador Tyrrsim's viceroy sent to persuade Claude to join their side, only to be slapped by Gum and tied up before being sent back to Tyrrsim. After the three colonies were absorbed into the theatre, the old man hurriedly switched sides. He also contributed to the eviction of the nikancha from the three colonies.

When Claude raided Tyrrsim, he promoted the old man to a public official post so that he would have a stable job. Little did he know that the old man didn't have any real skills at all, save for his sweet-talking mouth. He wasn't able to stay in his position for long before he quit and joined Claude. As he was a great talker and Claude's mother enjoyed his company, Claude allowed him to stay as a house guest. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

"Master, Zakrassen is teaching the first young master how to play chess nowadays," Alek replied.

"How could Tesoray be patient enough to learn? You might as well just tell me he's merely Tesoray's playmate. Get Zakrassen to report to you tomorrow. He's a smooth talker, so have him go to Aduras to buy tobacco. By the way, I recall there being quite a lot of tobacco in the warehouses of Port Cobius. Have Zakrassen seek out General Skri and ask whether the theatre would be willing to sell them."

"Yes, Master. I will ask him to do so tomorrow."

Claude waved and said, "There's no need to rush. Start after new year's eve. You should enjoy the holidays too."

Chapter 456 - Rumours and Going Off-topic

Year 593 of the Sacred Light Era was soon upon them. After the new year's eve celebrations, Claude was still busy hosting guests and attending banquets. He felt his stomach bloating up from the half a month of celebrations, so he made up his mind to go to the army training grounds to work out. He didn't want to carry so much meat on him like Borkal.

He left the cigarette business entirely with Alek. Since Kefnie was now technically a countess, she couldn't show up personally to deal with the matters and had to host their guests at home, especially the local rich and powerful. Ever since Bloweyk's mother started his wedding arrangements, all sorts of women from affluent families would doll their daughters or nieces up before coming to visit. Bloweyk left home for camp three days after the new year.

So, all Kefnie could do was supervise the finances while leaving the construction of the factory and hiring of the workers to Alek. Kester was working as his aide to ensure the safety of the factory. Even Zakrassen was asked to run errands day in and out by Alek. He had been sent to Aduras long ago to purchase tobacco.

Claude went to the camp in Port Vebator. He only stayed there for three days before receiving an urgent eagle message from headquarters, summoning him back to Lanu.

It seemed like an urgent matter, but the letter didn't state what exactly it was. It took Claude five days to sail by ferry back. When he arrived, he was told of something he found hard to believe.

"What? The first prince is dead? He was assassinated?"

The one who brought the news was Borkal. He remained at the western coast to make sure what he heard wasn't false, not bothering to return to the theatre for new year's eve at all. It was too bad his efforts were wasted. Word of Prince Hansbach's death came from the smuggling sailors as they made their stop in Nubissia. Oddly enough, no newspaper in any of the colonies could definitively prove the matter. Now, Prince Hansbach's death was nothing more than a rumour, a folk tale, which everyone in bars and taverns spoke about. Guessing the reason for his death became a sport, and no official sources came out to confirm or deny anything.

"There are seven versions of the first prince's death being spread around. The only thing that's certain is the time and place of his death. It happened last year on the 24th of the 9th month at 11 at night within the newly conquered territories, specifically, the most developed city in Rimodra, Port Frolic. It occurred in the core manor when the first prince moved in.

"Four more legitimate-sounding ones state that the first prince was assassinated, but the one behind the assassination and the motive for it were different. The first one said that he forced a commoner beauty to wait on him, only to be killed by her in his sleep. The beauty was said to have been missing ever since. The second version said Prince Wedrick, the king we've pledged our allegiance to, had sent a team of magi to assassinate His Highness for the throne. This sounds more credible.

"The third says that since the first prince retreated from Whitestag after his loss, his men felt really distraught and killed him while he was drunk and cut off his head in hopes of gaining the kingdom's forgiveness. The final version says that the one behind it is the resistance of old Rimodra that sent a few girls whose parents were killed by the Aueran army into the manor as maidservants. When they saw the first prince drunk, they did the deed to avenge their parents. This version sounds like a myth if you ask me."

"The other three are ridiculous," Borkal added, "The first had the first prince heavily injured during his retreat to Port Frolic to the point that he couldn't be treated. It doesn't sound quite possible, as the day before the first prince's death, he even took some men to patrol the camp and gave a speech about how they'd rise from the ashes. He couldn't have ridden on horseback to survey the camp if that was the case.

"The other two cite suicide and a misfire respectively. The suicide version described the first prince as feeling too humiliated by his loss. He drank to drown his sorrow, only to slit his own jugular vein when he thought about the predicament he was in. The other said the first prince played around with a revolver while drunk and accidentally pulled the trigger, shooting himself through the forehead. These two versions are impossible since the first prince is sure to have attendants around to stop him from messing with blades and guns while drunk.

"Prince Hansbach drew a lot of attention in starting the civil war to fight Prince Wedrick for the throne. Usually, newspapers in the colonies at the western coast have pundits commenting on the news. Lately, Prince Hansbach was said to have retreated from the three southwestern prefectures after a loss to Port Frolic. Whitestag, now reduced to ruins, has been reclaimed by Reddragon.

"What's weird is how Prince Hansbach ceased to do anything else after his retreat. Then came news of his death, but only in the form of rumours. There's not a single official notice made about the death itself. I asked a few people in charge of the publications, and all of them said they were waiting for proper confirmation. However, it's not easy to enter the newly conquered territories and leave, so news came out the whole time. Even they can't be sure about the death's truth."

Borkal had given his best effort. He collected lots of newspapers, all of which had something to report and comment about the retreat of the first prince during the 8th month last year. The papers were dated for the 11th month. It was normal for the newspapers to report on news three months back. The two continents were separated by the wide Tranquil Ocean, after all.

Claude picked one of the papers up and read up some details on the retreat. One pundit said that the two princes had been in a war of attrition at Whitestag for a whole year and both sides were no longer able to hold on.

So, the first prince spent a month to retreat from Whitestag with his men and their families. In fact, Prince Wedrick had intentionally let them go. Had he chosen to attack Whitestag in the month it was encircled, the first prince would have no choice but to retreat alone. The month was rather slow and neither side got into any huge conflict, which was rather weird. It was as if they've achieved some kind of understanding.

The pundits believe that Wedrick probably couldn't exterminate Hansbach and all his subordinates, so he decided to let them retreat to the new territories conquered during the five-year war. After all, Hansbach was the one who technically conquered it. Since the kingdom couldn't directly administer it anyway, it would be better to let Hansbach go there to found his own kingdom. Perhaps in a few decades, the two kingdoms could reunite into one.

"What do you think about this?" Claude turned to the rest in the room.

Bolonik furrowed his brows. "I believe it should merely be a rumour. There's no way Prince Hansbach will be assassinated so easily. It should be something an anti-Hansbach faction is spreading to cause more trouble for them. If the first prince really got hurt during the retreat, it should've been visible when he made his public appearances. Injuries of such calibre don't recover quickly."

Skri shook his head and said, "No, I believe the assassination is confirmed fact. It's incredibly possible that His Majesty sent someone to assassinate his own brother. Otherwise, the rumours wouldn't state the place and time that clearly. The assassination there definitely caused quite a commotion among the people there to the point that word of it couldn't feasibly be kept secret.

"Port Frolic is the largest and most well-developed port city in Rimodra. That's why the ships that sail to Nubissia like to stop there to purchase goods. I believe the sailors that stopped there that night noticed the commotion from the core manor and started rumours about the assassination in the taverns at the docks.

"However, I agree with General Bolonik that there's no way the first prince would be that easily assassinated. If something really happened, the first prince would only be injured, not killed. That's probably why there's no official confirmation for the rumours. The first prince's forces are probably searching the port city for the perpetrator and his accomplices. That's why the publications were prohibited from reporting on it."

Skri's guess sounded more logical, but what Eiblont said immediately changed their views on the matter. The whole conversation was derailed.

"I'm not interested in whether he's dead or not at all. He's not the lord we've pledged our allegiance to, so his assassination doesn't really matter. What I'm bothered about is how we haven't received contact from the kingdom since his retreat. There should be nothing stopping the mainland from contacting us after Prince Hansbach retreated from Whitestag, right?

"Yet, it's been five months since then. It's the 1st month now and the first prince retreated during the 8th month, so why has the kingdom not sent a single ship to us? I doubt they aren't able to find a single long-distance ship at all. No matter how busy they are with the war's aftermath, they should have settled it all within two or three months. Yet, we haven't gotten a single ship. I wonder if the kingdom has forgotten about us completely."

Everyone's attention was now focused on that. The newspapers already published confirmation of the first prince's retreat from Whitestag during the 8th month, following which it was reclaimed by Reddragon. Yet, not a single ship sailed to reestablish contact with the colonies.

Birkin said in an eerie tone, "It's obvious that the kingdom doesn't want to carry a burden like us right now since our fight with the Shiksans isn't definitively concluded. If the kingdom sends people here, they'd soon receive a huge call for reinforcements.

"So, they'll pretend to forget about us until our fight with the Shiksans is over. Then, they'll sweep in and claim power. They only want to scour wealth from the colonies, not distribute wealth here. Perhaps it's better for us to not have contact with the mainland at all."

That last sentence was pushing the envelope. Claude glanced at Birkin, surprised that he could evaluate the situation with such stunning clarity.

When Skri had a little too much to drink during his visit to Ferd Manor on the second day of the new year, he had a personal talk with the other four generals about the theatre's future. Skri's view was quite pessimistic.

He said that after the war with the Shiksans, reestablishing contact with the kingdom would mean a brand new, clean slate for everyone. If Prince Hansbach won, perhaps the colonies could resist a little longer.

After all, the theatre had pledged allegiance to Wedrick. They could fight Hansbach with that reason until Hansbach negotiated to absolve the theatre from any crimes and be accepted back into the kingdom.

If Wedrick won, on the other hand, it would be terrible for the theatre. What the theatre was doing amounted nearly to treason, whether it be the founding of the overseas bank or the development of the military industry. It was far beyond their rights to do so.

The colonies were places for the kingdom to gather resources and wealth and to sell their products. The kingdom had no plans of treating the colonies like the mainland, so it didn't want the colonies to have any ability to resist the mainland.

While the theatre was doing something arguably treasonous, it was something it had no choice in. The civil war on the mainland and loss of contact cut off all support the colonies could expect from the kingdom.

For the sake of defeating Shiks and ensuring the sovereignty of the colonies, it had to develop the local economy so that enough taxes and funding for the military could be secured.

Even though the five greats of the theatre ensured the colonies to be in one piece and defended the kingdom's honour, after the colonial war, no matter Wedrick or Hansbach won, they would want to reassert control over the colonies. By then, the five generals would either be exiled or retired. If they didn't rebel themselves, they wouldn't be able to avoid such a fate.

Skri suggested that the one to rebel would probably be Claude, much to the latter's surprise. So, he demanded to know why he thought so.

"Simple. You're the youngest and the most prideful. You can't take any slight sitting down. You also have the highest repute in the army, both among Thundercrash and Monolith. You also have the final say in the headquarters when it comes to training and the colonial war. Most importantly, you've always lacked the sense of submission towards the Stellin royal family. So, you will definitely fight back against any unfair treatment, whereas we would just take what fate hands us."

Skri later went on to analyse the other generals, himself included. Bolonik was a traditional military man. He received traditional patriotic education and humbles himself before the royal family and would obey any kind of unfair orders so long as it came from the top. While his wife and children were in the colonies, his household as a whole lived around the kingdom. His parents and siblings were mainly farmers who were proud of what he had achieved. There was no way he would give up on his family.

Birkin's family and household already moved to the colonies, so he didn't have much to worry about. But his relationship with Bolonik had always been rather good. So, he usually followed in Bolonik's footsteps. He would also take what punishment the kingdom had for him.

Eiblont was also a traditionally educated soldier. But unlike Bolonik and Birkin, he used speech to express his frustrations. However, he wouldn't dare to actually mount a resistance himself, no matter how troubled he was. But if Claude led the way, he would be the first to join. Eiblont needed a brave leader on whom he could rely.

As for Skri, he admitted that he wasn't a talented commander. The only thing he could count on was his logistics management skills. He didn't have any right to command the troops himself, so he was of the least threat to the royal family. Perhaps his fate wouldn't turn out that bad at all. If Hansbach won, he might spare Skri on account of their old relations. But if Wedrick won, then there was nothing but exile and retirement for him.

When Claude awoke the next day, he recalled the talk with Skri for two gruelling days. What was the point in bringing that up? However, he noticed that Skri acted rather normally in the following days, so Claude thought it was merely a drunken rant. He didn't think he would hear Birkin bringing up something like this today.

Bolonik's expression seemed a little dark, hinting at his understanding of the subtext of Birkin's words. He sighed and rebuked, "We are discussing whether the assassination of the first prince is real. Don't steer the conversation away. The kingdom is in chaos due to the civil war. Didn't you read that Whitestag is in shambles? The first prince definitely sailed away with all the ships during his retreat. I believe the kingdom wasn't able to get any ships to contact us. They should restore contact with us in a few more months."

Claude shook his head. Bolonik's opinion was too far fetched. He tapped on the table and said, "If the kingdom doesn't have any ships, we'll take the initiative to establish contact. Don't we have a few long-distance warships the remnants of Storm docked at Port Cobius in Tyrrsim? Our theatre didn't have enough funds to restore Storm to a fleet. Now that Whtiestag is reclaimed, it's time we sent those ships back to the mainland.

"We'll let those ships of Storm rejoin the kingdom's navy while sending an ambassador to the royal capital in hopes that they'll provide us with support in the colonial wars."

"Claude's right. Since the way is clear, we should take the initiative. The naval officers aren't willing to join a fleet under our theatre and even want us to pay them to patrol our waters anyway. Are they really from our navy or just some mercantile sailors?

"We can use this excuse to get them to scoot off back to the mainland lest they demand us to fund the restoration of Storm or something without even considering whether we even have the authority to do such a thing," Skri said in full agreement.

Chapter 457 - The Nikancha's Offer

When Whitestag turned rebel, Storm joined Prince Hansbach. The remaining naval troops who weren't willing to change sides escaped to the colonies with some ten ships. Claude had wanted to use those to form the theatre's own patrol fleet as the main line of defence against harassment from pirates and the Shiksan navy, only to be refused by the marines.

They proudly proclaimed that as proud members of the kingdom's navy, they were under the jurisdiction of the ministry of the navy and took orders only from the kingdom. The theatre was only in charge of defence, so they had no right to order them around. They accused the theatre of trying to take advantage of them while they were down by absorbing them into the local patrol fleet, which they saw as an act of insubordination. They wouldn't agree no matter what.

But in fact, they were just hesitant because the theatre didn't have any money. If they were relinquished to a mere patrol fleet, their salary and bonuses would be far lower than they were when they were in Storm, especially with how the kingdom had cut off trade. The patrol ships wouldn't be able to make any profit at all.

Since the theatre's good intentions were refused, they could only let them remain in Port Cobius and provide them with the most basic of food and other amenities. Even though the naval officers demanded the theatre to pay them salaries, Skri refused all of them for the same reason: they were under the jurisdiction of the ministry of the navy, so it wouldn't be appropriate for the theatre to be involved.

While the marines' needs were met, they didn't have any spending money. After the theatre refused to pay them salaries, they were forced to find other ways themselves, such as fishing in the colonies, transport cargo, starting their own near-waters shipping company, or serve as defensive escorts for some merchants. Sometimes, they were also given jobs by the theatre to patrol the coasts. They were being used as mercenaries.

When the theatre launched the overseas bank and started printing paper money, the financial situation there was somewhat resolved. The remaining sailors of Storm actually wrote a request to the theatre for a grant to rebuild a flotilla of Storm, which was immediately shot down by Skri, with the same reason they gave once more. And so both sides were at each other's throats again.

Skri couldn't be happier when Claude said he would have the sailors return to the mainland. He had been waiting long enough to send those ingrates away. The theatre was already really generous in providing them with rations, yet the marines demanded them for wine and fresh meat. That was something the fleets had to purchase for themselves in the first place and the theatre wasn't obligated to foot the bill at all.

He had never abided by their demands and refused what he should. He was only willing to do the bare minimum for a unit that didn't report to the theatre in the first place, so he couldn't care less about them. As a result, the conflicts between both sides festered to the point that a few marines at Port Cobius got into brawls with the troops of Monolith.

Since Claude already made the suggestion, Bolonik considered it for a moment before agreeing to it. However, he wasn't able to decide on a candidate to send to the royal capital as ambassador. That was when Borkal volunteered himself for the role. With Claude's support, the matter was decided then and there.

Claude was well aware that Borkal did so because he couldn't wait to meet his family. Unlike the other soldiers who moved their families to the theatre, Borkal hadn't. His family was still living in Whitestag. His father was a rather well-known local merchant and ran a company that even had a branch in the royal capital.

That was why they weren't willing to move to the colonies. Now that the battles had quelled, Borkal wanted to go back immediately to seek them out, if they were still alive. The newspapers at the western coast said the first and second princes had fought for a long year at Whitestag. The city was said to have been reduced to ruins.

As Eiblont had said, whether Hansbach survived wasn't the theatre's business. He was merely someone with whom they had a passing familiarity. Strictly speaking, Hansbach was their enemy. The matter that really caught the attention of the ten-odd high-ranking officers there was why the kingdom on the mainland didn't reach out to them, despite the civil war having ceased for five whole months. It unnerved them considerably.

But right after they settled on the matter of sending Borkal to the kingdom to test the royal capital's reaction, Bolonik's interest returned to the first prince's alleged assassination. He instructed Skri to send someone to Port Cobius to reach out to the marines there about how they could now return to the kingdom. He gave Borkal seven days to prepare for his departure before adjourning the meeting.

Claude took Borkal to his new manor and let him stay there for the rest of the week instead of within camp. While Borkal was a colonel, he was in the intelligence department and didn't command any troops. So, he only had a small residence with guards assigned to him. Since he usually wasn't there anyway, he used it as a mere storehouse.

Claude decided to write Maria a letter to be delivered by Borkal to find out about the attitude of the royal capital towards the theatre and the colonies. Even though he hadn't contacted her for years, he believed he could reestablish their relationship now that he was a lieutenant-general. So, he wrote quite a lot about his family and his sister's situation and got Kefnie to pick out a few exquisite gifts for her.

Half a month later, Borkal left for the mainland with a band of soldiers as his escorts, mainly because he brought too many things along with him. Apart from some gifts the theatre prepared for Wedrick, now known as Stellin XI, the five generals also sent gifts to their connections in the royal capital so as to smooth the way for their plans.

There was also the fact that Skri hadn't established a good rapport with the marines that left Storm. When they heard that Whitestag had been reclaimed by Reddragon, they weren't in a hurry to pull their anchors on board. Instead, they blamed the theatre for their inability to sail due to their three years of relative inactivity and demanded to be given a vast amount of funds and supplies.

Skri refused them without hesitation and warned them that they wouldn't be receiving subsidies following the next month, so if they wanted to stay, they'd better be ready to have their warships claimed by the theatre as they were no longer fit to be in the kingdom's navy. The theatre would also stop recognising them as such and deal with them as they would deserters.

In the end, Bolonik came out to mediate between them. He had the finance department give them a sum, food, fresh water, and other supplies they needed for a long voyage. The marines used the funds to buy some local products in the theatre before beginning their voyage to the mainland.

Claude returned to Port Vebator's army camp to train the troops. He didn't think that he would receive another urgent correspondence from headquarters half a month later demanding his presence. But this time around, it wasn't because of news updates, but rather, a band of nikancha ambassadors. They had a suggestion for the theatres: they would hand over the northern and eastern mountain areas to the theatre in exchange for three thousand new rifles.

As it was a military matter, Bolonik and Skri weren't able to make up their mind, so they sent a letter to get Claude to return to Lanu to discuss it.

"Darn it, the nikancha are starting to have funny thoughts again..." Eiblont cursed them all the way on the trip without stopping. He felt absolutely livid after reading the letter and was sternly against giving the nikancha any new rifles, especially when their own troops hadn't completely switched out to them yet.

When they finally arrived, Claude noticed that Bolonik really seemed to want to agree. Birkin didn't comment on it, while Skri's position was ambiguous. Bolonik believed that giving the nikancha the new rifles in exchange for new territory was a worthwhile deal.

Not to mention, Claude mentioned before that the new rifles weren't important. Rather, the rounds were. Even if they gave a hundred rounds for each rifle, the nikancha would still have to purchase more from the theatre. That way, they could exert influence on them by limiting the supply of their rounds and reap great profit at the same time.

Perhaps Bolonik tried to use that line of reasoning to sway Skri to his side, but Skri didn't express any opinion about it. Not to mention, this deal represented a chance to gain more territory for the kingdom to Bolonik, which would earn him better treatment from the kingdom due to his contribution. No ruler would mistreat a general that helped the kingdom expand its borders, or they would be labelled failures in the history books.

However, Bolonik picked the wrong method. Claude coldly said, "I object! Have the nikancha ambassadors f*ck back off to whence they came!"

"You..." Bolonik was infuriated, but he held himself back. After sighing, he furrowed his brow and asked, "Claude, may I hear the reason?"

Claude marched to the map of the nikancha kingdom hanging from the wall and gave it a pat. "Do you know the reason the nikancha want to give those territories to us?"

Birkin laughed. "Well, their ambassadors complained to us that we didn't see their troops as our own forces thanks to how we lost 60 thousand of the 100 thousand youths they sent us. The number of casualties completely terrified them. Yet, we were only able to wipe out three of the Shiksan corps. There are still seven more, around 400 thousand troops, on the way.

"This time around, the nikancha ambassadors want us to be held accountable for the deaths of the 60 thousand youths. They believe that fighting the Shiksans would lead to their demise. According to the current ratio of casualties, they would have to lose at least 200 thousand more men before the following seven corps can be eliminated. It's not a loss they can take.

"That's why they want to give us the territory to let us take the brunt of the next attack. And while our troops are bleeding themselves out on the frontlines, they get to sit back and relax in peace. They're just unwilling to hand the territory over for free, so they want to try to use it to get the rifles from us."

Eiblont snorted. "They can dream on. They want us to defend them from the Shiksans and pay them for the privilege with our rifles? Do we need to apologise to them and pay the pensions for the 60 thousand casualties as well? Don't they have the slightest bit of self-awareness?! They disobeyed orders and acted on their own! Who knows how much trouble they've caused?!"

"Not only that, they even wanted us to pay them back for killing the two thousand plus deserters. They're demanding to punish the officers of the defence line," Birkin said in an odd tone, seemingly rather dissatisfied himself.

Bolonik grimaced and said, "Bick, I've refused those demands from the ambassadors already and explained to them that the punishment was necessary. Otherwise, there's no way we'd be able to hold the second defence line."

"Explain? Why bother?" Claude yelled in annoyance, "What's there to explain?! How dare they demand an explanation from us?! We're not obligated to answer them! Eilon, tell the nikancha we don't want their territory. No negotiation.

"Also tell them the Shiksans' last batch of corps will reach Cape Loducus in a month or so and attack around the 5th or 6th. Make sure they party to their heart's content because these are the last three months they have to.

"Due to the amount of trouble they've caused us with their unreliable troops, we've decided to terminate our cooperation, lest they threaten the security of the theatre. We will only defend the northern mountainous coasts. No one soldier is to stand on the eastern mountains."

Claude was not going to accept the offer. The moment the Shiksans notice the absence, they'd charge right in. The nikancha in the inland colonies were in for a grand show.

"Alright, I'll tell them to buzz off as soon as possible," Eiblont said, smiling as he prepared to leave.

However, Bolonik stopped him.

"Claude, don't cause trouble. You must understand the nikancha are going to hand those territories to us. We're not fighting them for it. Together they're a colony in their own right. All they want is three thousand new rifles. I think it's a great deal."

Claude shook his head.

"I won't give them a single rifle. Also, they're only giving us the northern mountainous coasts and the eastern mountains. It's not a sincere offer. Look at the map. These two areas are only connected by these two corners and all the area combined only has one small gold mine and another small silver mine. We can do without them. They're not worth our men's precious lives.

"If you want to forge new territory for the kingdom, we can wait for the Shiksans to attack before launching our own. We're already at war with them, so land is fair game. As for the nikancha, we're no longer allies. Do you think they stand a chance to take the territory back?"

Chapter 458 - Suggestions Laced with Threats

It was said that only the worse could deal with the bad. Though, the nikancha couldn't even make a bad guy; they were just wannabe crooks who paraded around the meek arrogantly, slowly pushing the limits of what courtesy they were given. But once it came to a real fight to the death, they'd kneel and beg for forgiveness.

Even though the nikancha ambassadors seemed confident enough to make demands for their oh-so-precious territories, they had learnt the extent of their capabilities and knew they wouldn't stand a chance against the Shiksan forces. Otherwise, they wouldn't have decided to let the theatre take the brunt of the hit for them.

The reason Skri and Bolonik were tempted was they hadn't been on the frontlines. No matter how terribly Claude and the other two described the nikancha troops, the former two didn't see it first hand and thought that no matter how bad they were, they were still at least helpful to the theatre.

The other reason was the nikancha lusted after the new rifles. They believed just handing over the two territories was a bad deal for them. They wanted at least something to show for it. Had a few of the ambassadors let the euphoria rush over their heads, they would've demanded ten thousand instead of three thousand.

Yet, Eiblont sought them out to tell them of the theatre's refusal and announced the cease of negotiations. He also emphasised that if they gave up on the defence lines at the eastern mountains, all the theatre's forces would retreat to the northern mountainous coasts. They were told that Claude advised them to enjoy what little time in the two to three months they had left, much to their shock.

The nikancha weren't stupid. They knew what Claude was alluding to and immediately made their move. That night itself, the ambassadors immediately brought housewarming gifts for Claude to congratulate him for his move. It was a set of crockery made from gold. However, the nikancha's craftsmanship still wasn't up to par, so they were rather thick and heavy.

Claude awkwardly received the large chest from the three ambassadors before berating them for their troops' performance unreservedly. He told them they had lost the theatre's trust completely, and that, as a result, their cooperation was being terminated.

Before Claude, the three ambassadors were on their best behaviour and humbly accepted his criticisms. However, they also told him about their troubles. Without enough young manpower, their tribes' survival was at stake. A single war had cost them 60 thousand men. They could not suffer so again.

Claude kicked the chest of gold crockery.

"I bet General Bolonik also has one of these, yes? Perhaps even larger?"

The ambassadors were completely silent.

Claude burst out laughing.

"I understand. Go home. When I receive a gift akin to General Bolonik's, I'll think of a way to help you avoid the war."

"But he's the field marshal," one ambassador said disgruntledly.

Claude shook his head.

"He's the acting field marshal. I'm in charge of all military affairs. What I say goes."

The ambassadors returned the next evening with another large chest of gold crockery.

Claude was quite appreciative of their sincerity. He smiled at the three and said, "Actually, we all know why you're trying to hand us the two mountainous territories. You want us to take the brunt of the Shiksan attack for you, right?

"But why would the theatre do that for you? We don't need these desolate mountains. Why should our troops defend your nation against the Shiksans while you enjoy your peaceful lives at the rear? Do you think we're daft?"

"T-those two territories have one gold mine and two silver mines..." the one with a braided beard argued.

"Hehe... Those are small mines! Would we really fight seven Shiksan corps for your sake just for three small mines? I think you're misunderstanding something, or, are you saying that's all the lives of our precious warriors is worth?"

He shook his head with a grave sigh. "Gentlemen, I've always been nothing but generous to your folk, but you've disappointed me time and again, whether it be on the battlefield or somewhere else. Let me be frank with you. If I really wanted your mines, I could easily take over the whole inland Shiksan colonies. There are nearly 60 mines there. Yet, I gave them to you without hesitation. I even split a third of our spoils to you.

"I've kept up my end of the bargain and let your tribesmen settle down in comfortable new homes after they were forced to leave the mountainous areas. But what did I get in return? Your betrayal. Don't tell me that didn't happen. Your youth warriors not only disobeyed our orders on the battlefield, they even tried to steal our new rifles. Our supplies were being lost time and again, and I'm sure we all know what happened to them.

"As the commander for the upcoming war, I have received a jointly signed letter from my subordinates to give up on the defence lines at the eastern mountain area and let the Shiksans wipe your nation out. Essentially, I am being asked to use you as bait for the Shiksans. Once they enter your territories, forget three small mines, all the mines in your nation will be ours to occupy once your nation is no more. By then, we'd have three to four more colonies, much more than the two small territories you're willing to offer us. So, gentlemen, tell me what kind of decision you would make if you were in my stead."

The three ambassadors' faces were completely pale from the shock. The bearded ambassador still tried to argue his position stubbornly. "O-our nation has five million p-people... Y-you w-wouldn't dare to conquer our nation. W-we, the nikancha, will never y-yield our nation to you! All our young and o-old will fight you to the end!"

"No, no, gentlemen, don't misunderstand--" Claude waved his hands with a smile. "--It won't have to come to that, because you'll be fighting the Shiksans next. As for what they would do, let me see... Well, perhaps they'd kill all your elderly and weak and enslave all the young men and women. Your territory now has more than enough mines for them to throw you in, after all.

"As for us, we'll wait until they conquer almost all of your territory first before attacking them from the rear to cut off their supply route. We'll trap all 400 thousand of their forces in your dominion before defeating them and avenging you guys. Then, your deaths wouldn't have been in vain. Worry not. We won't let the Shiksans who massacre your tribes off."

One ambassador immediately knelt before Claude and hugged his leg.

"General... General! You said yesterday that you had a way to help us avoid the war..."

Claude kicked his leg, but wasn't able to shake him off. His grip was too tight.

"I do have a way! Y-you! Let go and stand up!"

He only managed to pull him back up after much effort.

"I can tell you. This might just be the only way to save your people. Whether it'll work depends on you."

The three ambassadors were truly terrified. It was time to serve the main dish.

Claude turned to his desk to get a map of the nikancha nation and a charcoal pencil.

"You wanted to hand us the eastern mountain area and the northern mountainous coasts so we can take the brunt of the Shiksan attacks. However, you really didn't show any sincerity at all. Nobody would care about your measly land. You're trying to catch a big fish, but not willing to use a good bait at all. Do you think you even have a chance?

"Everyone knows what you're planning. Do you really think paying such a small price is enough for us to fight off 400 thousand Shiksans? You even demanded us to give you the new rifles? Did you know that's the kind of sleaziness that angered the strategists of our two corps? They all scrambled to gather signatures for a plan to exterminate the nikancha nation by simply waiting for the Shiksans to do the job for us while we reap the profit later.

"Even though I'm the main commander at the frontlines, General Bolonik wouldn't ignore the pleas of his subordinates as acting field marshal. I have no way of forcing our men to give their lives for those two measly territories. Additionally, anyone with half a brain would know who's getting the better end of the deal. So, if you really want us to fight the Shiksans, you better be ready to pay a huge price. Have you heard of the saying, 'fortune favours the bold, champions favour the gold'?"

The bearded man stammered, "G-general, be direct with us. What kind of p-price do you want us to pay to avoid this war?"

Claude drew a straight line on the map. The territories the nikancha were ready to give up looked like two rectangles at nearly ninety degrees to each other connected only at the very corner of one end. Claude drew a line so that those two areas were connected into a thick, '7' shape, flattening the border between Vebator and the inland colonies at the same time.

"You have to give the area in front of this line to us for General Birkin and I to convince our subordinates. Only such a substantial offer will motivate them enough to accept. So long as all the men are not sacrificed, you shall have peace."

He tapped on the part of the map beyond the line again. The ambassadors completely paled, as that new area alone was easily double that of the parts they were willing to give up. There were also many gold and silver mines in the area.

"General... I-isn't this a little too much?" the bearded ambassador said with a look of shock.

"Not at all. You really are short sighted. How is this much when compared to the rest of the land you occupy? It has just 14 gold and silver mines, and most are small. Compared to the rest of the 60 mines, six among which are large, the ones here aren't very rich either.

"Either way, only an area this big will be enough to convince our subordinates to fight the Shiksans willingly. By the way, we will also need you to give us lots of funding to motivate the soldiers that decide to take part.

"I've said that champions favour the gold. Without it, our men wouldn't have the courage to stand on the battlefield. All that's on their mind will be how they're fighting the Shiksans for your sake and will be far less willing to put up a fight. The moment they lose morale, they'll scramble and run just like your forces did. The end result of that will be just as bad for you.

"So, we need you to pay for the prize money. We aren't asking for much, only two million crowns. With that money and the territory, I can represent the theatre to make you a promise to stop all the Shiksans in their tracks at the defence line. They'll definitely not invade an inch of your nation."

The room fell silent; only the frantic breathing of the three ambassadors could be heard. None of them expected Claude to come up with those conditions. Not only did he want territory, he also wanted them to pay a sum that was by no means small. The two corps of the theatre only had around 100 thousand men. Was he going to give them 20 crowns each?

"G-general... Can it be less?" one ambassador asked in a hoarse voice.

"Less? What are you talking about? The territory or the funding?"

"B-both..."

Claude sighed. "It's not a negotiation. Gentlemen, I wouldn't bother doing such a thing if not for your generous gifts here. In fact, if you follow what I've suggested, it'll cause me even more trouble, because now, I'll have to try to convince my subordinates and monitor them at the frontlines as they fight. I feel quite stressed about fighting 400 thousand Shiksans as well.

"I would rather you not take my words seriously at all. Go back, eat well and have all the fun you like. Your three months are running up anyway, so enjoy them while you still can. Spend more time with your family and don't cause us any trouble. Since you are considered to be friends of the theatre, I promise we'll eventually avenge you.

"It's getting late now. Get back to consider it carefully. Take the map back and tell them I came up with the demands on a whim or something, even though it's the bare minimum the theatre is willing to accept. I think you should just listen to my suggestion and enjoy life. If you don't want to die with your tribesmen, you can bring your family members to the theatre. I can arrange for you and your families to be sent to the colonies at the western coast. I heard there's many of your kin there too.

Chapter 459 - Idle Chat and Arrival

It was the middle of the 4th month.

Claude was currently surveying the defences at the northern mountainous coasts. Since roughly a month back when he gave the three nikancha ambassadors his conditions, they said they would go back to discuss the matter but didn't make any contact since.

However, Claude was in no rush. The first thing he did after returning to the frontlines was to move the three garrison lines stationed at the border of the eastern mountains so the way from there to the nikancha nation would be unobstructed.

Apart from that, Claude also gave command of the three lines he had withdrawn and another folk to Birkin. They would continue to construct three defence lines at the middle of the northern mountainous coasts, completely separating that area from the eastern mountains that belonged to the nikancha nation and making sure Vebator had an iron-wall defence.

During that time, some nikancha from the neighbouring tribes dared to come over to sneak around or complain. However, Birkin was no longer as tolerant as he was in the last war and ordered for any nikancha approaching the defence line to be chased away. No one of them could remain within 200 metres of the defence line.

They would fire in the air as a warning, shoot at the ground the second time and shoot them dead if the previous warnings weren't heeded. One nikancha tribe in the area probably managed to sneak away quite a lot of supplies back then and wanted to try to cross the defence line once more. Perhaps they were betting that Birkin wouldn't actually shoot, so he gathered a hundred young men and women to approach the defence line as protestors.

The men yelled that the land belonged to their tribe and the theatre wasn't allowed to build anything there, while the women tried to seduce the soldiers. But when they saw none of them had been hurt after the first two warning shots, they got the impression that the soldiers were just putting up a front to scare them and decided to double down. They were all dead when the dust settled.

Some wanted to declare war, some wanted vengeance, and some demanded the murderers be handed over. The nikancha were going to explode. They gathered a few thousand just 200 metres away and marked the borders with limestone. Then, they kept yelling at the soldiers.

The tribal elders, in their attempt to prevent any more conflict, forbade the protestors from taking any weapons, whether muskets or bows, javelins, daggers, or axes. The angered nikancha protestors could do naught but pick up sticks and stones and lob them in the soldiers' general direction.

"General! We wish to voice our strongest objections! Not only did you occupy our land, you even shot our people! You have to make a most earnest apology and make up for our losses, not to mention punishing the killers! Otherwise, we'll invoke our right to vengeance and cease being your ally!"

After the bloody incident, two nikancha elders came to Claude to spray saliva on him as they waved their arms furiously.

"Wait, aren't you getting something wrong?" Claude asked, surprised, "Who said we're still allies? Didn't we stop being allies after the last war? Why else would we be here building defences? Not that it has anything to do with you. We're just here to make preparations for when the Shiksans come.

"If you have come to declare war, I would be glad. There's no need to invoke the right to vengeance. Just send some men against us. We could use the firing practice. I promise not to advance any further. I'm sure you know taking more of your land now is pointless. We just need this for our defences. As long as you stay clear, you will remain unharmed."

"This is sovereign territory! You have trespassed on our land and killed several hundred of our people!" the shorter of the elders roared.

Wham! Claude slammed his fist on the table.

"Nonsense! Where did these hundreds come from?! There were only 84! Are you completely innumerate as well as illiterate? Is it going to be several thousand next time you open your mouth? At this rate we'll have reached the heavens by the end of the year! We even warned the bastards to buzz off. This is their fault for not listening to our warning shots!

"I know this is your territory. We're just borrowing it for now. It's not like you're using it for anything anyway. There's not a single man defending the eastern mountains now. Since you've willingly given up, why fight us for this?

"I really don't get what goes on in those heads of yours. To be frank, the three Shiksan corps will be here in another couple of days. If I were you, I'd get those protestors armed and go defend the eastern mountains. At least that way, you'll have half a month longer to live.

"Leave. I occupied your territory to defend my colonies. I don't care if this is wrong or if it counts as an invasion. I still consider you friends on account of our old relationship, so I'll make sure to avenge you."

The two elders left crestfallenly without declaring war. They knew there was nothing they could do. The land was as good as annexed. Claude didn't mind having them as an additional enemy; they would not be much of one.

"The conditions are a little too harsh," Birkin said with some regret, "You didn't just ask them for so much land, you also wanted them to pay two million crowns. If I were their leader, I would rather fight it out with the Shiksans than accept your conditions. They have five million. Even if it takes ten to kill one Shiksan, they'd still defeat them..."

"They aren't that courageous," Eiblont critiqued from his seat, "Otherwise, they wouldn't have offered us the two territories in that deal. Their goal was to get us to fight the Shiksans in their stead, after all. If they aren't even brave enough to step on the battlefield, then they shouldn't have bothered putting up a front before us in the first place.

"In fact, I'm hoping they won't agree to Claude's conditions. That's the best-case scenario for the theatre. Like Claude said, the Shiksans will immediately sink deep into nikancha territory to kill and pillage. We'll send our forces out only after they're completely wiped out to wipe out the occupying Shiksan force. Then, we'll hit the jackpot."

Claude smiled in resignation. "I said that only to scare them. If it really ends up like that, we'd fare worse. I made that part up about cutting the Shiksan food supply. There are five million nikancha and if the Shiksans pillage their tribes, they'll gain enough rations. Even if they're eating nothing but potatoes, they can still fight without relying on a supply line from the rear.

"Not to mention, the nikancha nation occupies too much territory. We'll lose the initiative if the Shiksans breach their borders. The Shiksans outnumber us fewfold and the land is so wide it allows them many strategic possibilities. They'll have many ways to avoid our ambushes or surprise attacks.

"The large territory can both be an advantage and a disadvantage for us. In the former case, it means we'll have more than enough places to move and hide in. It won't be easy for the enemy to surround us. However, that means we won't be able to hold their bases to rest and recover. The large area is quite desolate. We need a water source, food and shelter where our troops can unwind, as well as a way to ensure the safety of our supply line.

"If I were the Shiksan commander, I would hold the nikancha settlements and the mines. That would be enough to deal with the units I send in clandestinely, because the more I send, the higher chance we have of encountering them. Yet if I send too few, we won't be able to conquer their bases, which in itself is more troubling than simply sending more men. That kind of environment would also negatively impact the health and morale of our troops."

Eiblont found it easier than Birkin to understand Claude's message. No army could possibly fight an enemy while tired and out of their element. Naturally, the exception to that was the legendary army on old Earth that managed to defeat the enemy and complete the 25-thousand-kilometre Long March. It was an army that humanity had never before seen.

Though, the two generals didn't know what he was thinking. All that was on their minds was how the nikancha nation was far too desolate, and the Shiksans had superiority in numbers, which would allow them to heavily guard the important water sources. If the Auerans snuck in and weren't able to secure a source of clean water, they would be assailed by disease. The effort needed to search for other sources of water would also wear the soldiers down, decreasing their fighting capability as a result.

While Claude seemed completely nonchalant about it, he would hold the eastern and northern mountain regions when the Shiksans finally come even if the nikancha didn't pay up, because there was no better place to stop the Shiksan army in their tracks. He only wanted to terrify the nikancha to see if he could glean some more benefits.

"It would be great if we could conquer the nikancha nation. There'll be enough land for four colonies, all of them filled with gold and silver mines. It's a shame they were allowed to occupy such resource-rich areas. They can produce enough ores worth eight million crowns each year!" Eiblont complained.

However, Claude had a completely different opinion. He sipped some red tea and said, "If we really conquered their territory, we'd fare much worse in the future. While there is much gold and silver there, that's not what our theatre lacks right now. Instead, we need manpower.

"Even after the move of the families of the two million soldiers into Cromwell and Balingana, the nine colonies' population only total up to 4.8 million. The seven other colonies, apart from towns and cities and Anfiston, have around 400 thousand people and are mostly undeveloped.

"Right now, the theatre's economy is developing rapidly, but we lack manpower. We're also facing a war and just formed a reserve corps. More than a third of the youths in the theatre have been recruited into the force. That's a really dangerous number that might affect the stability of our economy.

"I understand the temptation to get rich overnight. If we take the nikancha's land, the people who want to make it big by mining will flock over. By then, the theatre would no longer have livestock herders, factory workers and so on. Perhaps we'll have to do what the Shiksans colonists did before and rely on imports to meet all our needs.

"We won't be nearly as well off then. There's no point in having so much gold and silver that we can't eat or use. Prices for goods will only rise and our ambiguous relationship with the mainland only makes it more troublesome. The gold and silver are nothing but a curse for us. It might even be used as evidence to accuse us of embezzlement.

"We'll also attract other hungry wolves by holding those territories. Our corps, Thundercrash and Monolith, will be a thorn in the eyes of those in power in the royal capital. They will think of all sorts of methods to put those two corps under their control to ensure their enrichment won't be stopped. In the end, the final victor would force us to capture slaves for the mines like the Shiksan nobles did to increase their profit margins.

"That's why I would rather leave those territories in the hands of the nikancha. If we need gold or silver, we can simply trade for them with the products our colonies produce. It's akin to hiring them to mine for us. If they agree to our conditions, then they will be bound to us moving forward.

"No matter what kind of trade they want to make, they have to do it with us. We can easily make a stable stream of income off them. It's far less trouble than conquering their land and gathering our own workforce to run the mines."

It was his earnest belief that conquering the nikancha nation brought the theatre no tangible benefit. Given their lack of manpower, who would work in the farms or factories when there was gold and silver to be mined? Leaving the nikanchas in charge also held the benefit of providing a market for the theatre to sell their goods to, at a much higher price at that. The profits they earned could cover all their military funding.

When Claude brought up the current state of affairs between the kingdom and the theatre, Eiblont and Birkin sighed. If the voyage was smooth, Borkal should've arrived at the royal capital with his band of guards already. Who knew how Prince Wedri--, no, Stellin XI, would respond.

On the 19th of the 4th month, Year 593, the Shiksan fleet, Seaking, the Alliance's fleet, and the Fochsians' two fleets named after their deities that promised to make yearly shipments for the Shiksans for free, finally arrived at Cape Loducus as the escort of countless long-distance vessels.

The final three Shiksan corps arrived. It would be a trial like no other for Claude and the theatre's soldiers. They would come to face off against seven corps of 400 thousand Shiksan troops -- the largest number of enemies they've faced so far yet.

Chapter 460 - Nikancha Camp-flight Incident

"The Shiksans' main supply base is still located near Cape Loducus City. It's the same place you attacked and burned down. There's only one line of garrison soldiers defending it and two heavy transport tribes. However, they built a defence line here at Fanbix Hill to lock down all traffic around Cape Loducus. It's defended by a standing corps."

Claude looked at the small, blue flag Eiblont stuck on the sandtable and recalled that he had been to Fanbix Hill before. During the last war, after Thundercrash 1st Folk attacked the main supply base, he ordered Moriad's Line 1302 and Dyavid's Line 1303 to go there to wait in ambush for the enemy. However, they wasted five days waiting only for the enemy to not come at all.

Even though it was called Fanbix Hill, it wasn't a proper hill, but rather, five small hills about 40 metres in height connected together. They were the only elevated ground on the plains with some dense trees covering some parts of them. However, Claude had the trees mostly felled when he set up camp there to rest for firewood the last time.

It was obvious that the Shiksans were trying to prevent their supply base from once more being surprise attacked by the theatre by setting up a defence line there to watch their backs. It was a strategic location on the plains which was a crucial point to travel towards the borders of the northern and eastern mountains. The Shiksans had quite a good eye. If anyone was discovered to have infiltrated the area, they would be surrounded from three fronts and find it hard to escape.

As the chief strategist of Thundercrash, Eiblont continued to report on the news the informants had sent. "The corps stationed at Fanbix Hill is called 3rd Expedition corps. It's said to comprise the troops that belonged to the rebel nobles' private armies, youths that were forcefully drafted by their lords. They're said to be slow to respond and lax with military discipline, which is probably the reason they were thought of as weak.

"In the three days they arrived in Cape Loducus, the soldiers of the corps caused quite a lot of chaos in the city, such as daylight robbery, brawling, dining and dashing, and hurting others while drunk. However, those were small infractions compared to the worst incident. A tent of patrol troops encountered a woman from the city going out to check on the farmsteads with two nikancha maidservants. That tent of troops actually dragged those three women into the woods and gangraped them there.

"After that happened, Shiks' army was pressured by Fochs to shoot the two soldiers that led the rest. The other ten were publicly caned 80 times to quell the rage of the city folk. Later, the corps was given the order to start setting up the defence line at Fanbix Hill. Ten enforcer officers were also sent to maintain discipline to ensure the defences are properly erected."

Claude made a note about 3rd Expedition in his notebook. It was a soft and easy win. He could give them a squeeze if a chance presented itself. The incidents they caused was a sign of their weakness.

Though there were corps that were lax on discipline and had strong soldiers, 3rd Expedition wasn't part of them. Robbing in daylight and eating for free were things people expected hooligans to do. The incident of the patrol tent also showed how irresponsible those soldiers were, for them to commit that kind of transgression when they were on duty. They didn't care about their post or work at all. A corps like that was nothing short of garbage.

"This 3rd Expedition is one of the three standing corps to arrive at Cape Loducus. The other two are 2nd and 4th Expedition. The two corps that arrived in the previous batch was 1st Expedition and the Royal Cavalry reserve corps. 4th Expedition is also comprised completely of the youths forcefully conscripted by the rebel nobles.

"Our informants observed that among the four Expedition corps, 3rd is the weakest one with the worst discipline. The other three, however, are only slightly stronger than 3rd. As for Royal Cavalry, it is the awarded light-cavalry corps that helped Majid III stop the noble rebellion. It was said that if they performed well in the upcoming war, they would be promoted from reserve to a proper standing corps."

"Huh? What does that mean?" Claude wondered, "So Royal Cavalry isn't one of the Shiksan standing corps?"

Eiblont knew Claude had no interest in finding out about royal etiquette. He explained, "The Royal Cavalry corps is actually a ceremonial corps of the royal family which manages security at royal events. Those who are part of the corps are descendants of nobles and their status in the kingdom is rather high.

"However, many of the noble descendants aren't fit to be soldiers and aren't capable of taking charge of basic security operations. Even so, the ones that made it into the corps have the backing of many other powerful people and the web of interrelationships is pretty complex. In the past hundred or so years, Royal Cavalry has become a place for young noble scions to socialise and network, so their fighting capability eventually reduced to nothing. The most they can do is put up a front.

"The Shiksan royal family, however, had no choice but to form it into a reserve corps. They picked out noble officers from the kingdom's army to replace the nobles in various security operations, doing all the work for the nobles who were credited for it. In time, the commoners were starting to feel disgruntled about this arrangement. After they made some contributions in quelling the rebellions, they requested to be made a proper corps."

Though Claude more or less understood them, he still found it rather weird. "However, Royal Cavalry doesn't seem strong at all. Didn't we encounter them when they first arrived? Dyavid's 3rd Line ambushed their patrol tent. After the first time, they no longer dared to move too far away from their camp. They don't seem any stronger than the Canasian cavalry, that's for sure. Can they really be considered one of the more fight-capable corps of Shiks?"

Eiblont smiled in resignation. If one looked at Thundercrash's training and track record, other cavalry units would seem rather insignificant, not to mention, the elite band Wolfang was the one that ambushed Royal Cavalry. They were the most elite 20-man band in the whole of the theatre. How could normal patrol tents possibly face up against them?

Not to mention, Dyavid's Line 1303 was armed entirely with new rifles. The muskets in the hands of the Shiksans were nothing more than glorified flaming sticks. Coupled with how Wolfang taught them their ambush tactics, they could easily take on normal Shiksan cavalry, to say nothing of a reserve corps like Royal Cavalry.

Eiblont avoided the topic since he didn't want to debate the strength of the Shiksan cavalry. He continued with his report. "Three and a half of the five Penitence corps have been exterminated by us in the last war. This time, they got two more fully staffed Penitence corps to refill their ranks. 1st Penitence is stationed at the eastern mountains' borders while 2nd Penitence is in the new camp at the border of the northern mountains."

He put two blue flags on the sandtable to mark their locations. "Currently, the Shiksans established a new camp at the border of the eastern mountains and stationed four corps there, namely, 1st Penitence, 1st Expedition, 2nd Expedition and Royal Cavalry. At the border of the northern mountains, they have 2nd Penitence and 4th Expedition. They built three defence lines near their new camp.

"It's worth noting that 2nd Penitence and 4th Expedition's camps aren't linked together. Instead, they're separated by roughly 3 kilometres by a small hill, beyond which a smaller camp is built. The two camps and three defence lines have completely sealed off all ways to go to their rear. We'll no longer be able to pass the three defence lines undetected.

"Based on the sandtable, the two corps at the northern border, the main camp at the eastern border, and the heavily fortified checkpoint at Fanbix Hill form a triangular defence perimeter. Royal Cavalry can also respond rather quickly, so we won't be able to take out their supply base by surprise to win like last time."

Eiblont put down the folder in his hand regrettably. Claude didn't really mind that, however. The Shiksans were no fools and they've learned from their huge losses to be far more careful. Only idiots would repeat their mistakes.

Picking up an eagle message, Eiblont grimaced and said, "This is good news, I suppose. In the past month, the Shiksans have done nothing apart from setting up camp and their defence lines. They didn't even send out scouting tents into the mountains. Only the light-cavalry corps' patrol tents approached the mountain borders a little. After we attacked them in the north, they retreated immediately.

"After we left the eastern mountains, they started to pay attention to them. You've read Captain Bloweyk's report from half a month ago, right? Around 120 nikancha soldiers were ordered to check on the Shiksan troops. They gathered in the open and marched in broad daylight only to run into Shiksan patrol tents and get into a skirmish."

Claude nodded. He definitely saw his brother's report. The whole area stretching from the eastern mountains' borders to the central defence line and to the nikancha's territory wasn't defended by a single soldier. Anybody could cross unobstructed. That was so that the nikancha would be pressured into agreeing to Claude's conditions. If the Shiksans knew that, they'd immediately launch an attack with a corps and would definitely succeed in taking the nikancha heartland.

However, the Shiksans didn't dare take that risk. Before they attacked, they would always send large numbers of scout tents to forge ahead. Claude had planted Wolfang to operate at the eastern borders to take out the scouts. Putting pressure on the nikancha was one thing, but the strategic spots in the eastern mountains weren't to be given up on easily. He couldn't let the Shiksans realise that it was in fact really sparsely defended, if at all.

The nikancha wouldn't be that ready to agree to Claude's conditions, naturally. They thought they could salvage the situation, so they sent tens of thousands of their youth fighters to the eastern mountains that Claude had given up on and took over the three defence lines that were constructed there. They also picked a hundred braves to test out the Shiksans' mettle, with another 20 plus who volunteered. Along the way to the border, they sang war songs and chatted merrily, only to run into a Shiksan patrol tent.

It ended with the nikancha's complete defeat. They weren't even a match; it was a complete massacre. The Shiksans only had two tents of 24 cavalrymen whereas the nikancha had more than 120. They could staff ten full tents and have five or six left over. Initially, both sides discovered each other. As the Shiksans were mounted, the nikancha did the wise thing and immediately took a small hill not far away for the height advantage.

When they saw that there were only 24 Shiksan cavalrymen, the nikancha got excited. They cried, cursed, and provoked from the top of their hill while firing haphazardly. It was too bad while the enemy was 200 metres away and within firing range of the nikancha's muskets, not a single one of the tens of shots they fired caused the cavalrymen any damage.

They then loudly cursed as they reloaded their muskets. Some hot-tempered ones even smashed their guns on the ground, stripped and pissed towards the Shiksans. It was probably the most serious insult they could think of. The 24 Shiksans stopped there and watched the joke play out. After a while, they turned their mounts around and disappeared into the woods.

All of the nikancha thought they managed to scare the Shiksans away and began cheering and dancing, brandishing their guns and blades around and praising themselves for their bravery. When they were worn out from the festivities, they sat or lay down on the hill with their muskets tossed aside without a single man keeping watch.

Then came the disaster that wiped them out. The Shiksans they thought they had scared away appeared at the flanks of the hill all of a sudden and charged upwards. The nikancha were trampled on and sliced into a million pieces; the sight was too cruel to behold. While tens of them managed to muster their bravery and engage the Shiksans in a melee, even more of their panicked brethren tried their best to escape without helping them out at all.

After the ones that bravely resisted were put down, the Shiksan troops got the luxury of harvesting. All they had to do to chase down the nikancha that were desperately trying to escape was to ride towards them before lobbing their heads off as they overtook. Of all 120 plus so-called brave warriors, only seven managed to escape the mountains alive. The 24 Shiksans that caused them so much devastation only suffered seven casualties, two among which were deaths.

Bloweyk and Wolfang 1st Tent witnessed the massacre and only made their move when the Shiksans were just about to retreat, managing to kill all 22 remaining cavalrymen while suffering no casualties themselves. They obtained 24 war horses.

Some three days later, Bloweyk got more than 70 war horses and decided to return to recuperate with his spoils. When he reached the central defence line, it was already night time. He had many torches hung on the backs of the horses to prevent accidentally falling down the ridges, though it seemed like a large army force marching from afar.

The seven nikancha braves that managed to escape told others of their kin who were defending the line. That was one of the quirks of the nikancha. If they won, they boasted all they could and nobody would mind. But if they lost, they would paint the enemy as some undefeatable monster. When they saw so many torches moving in the night in the distance, they were so terrified that they yelled as loud as they could that the Shiksans had arrived.

The other panicked nikancha that heard it immediately fled the camp. It was around ten at night when many nikancha were already asleep. Bloweyk's Wolfang had remained at the eastern border for nearly 20 days, so he wasn't aware the nikancha occupied the defence line. When he departed, the camp was void of people. He had initially planned to rest there before continuing his way back towards frontline command when the sun was up. However, he stopped when he noticed something amiss.

It seemed to the nikancha that the great Shiksan army stopped in their tracks, as if they were about to attack.

Some brave ones picked up their muskets and fired at the torches without caring about distance or aim. The worst part was when the sleeping nikancha were startled awake by the loud yelling and saw the torches in the distance, followed by hearing the sound of gunfire, they thought the Shiksans were actually attacking and immediately turned tail to run. Some even shook their friends awake.

"The Shiksans are here! Run!" they yelled.

Nikancha are like sheep; once one twitches, the whole herd runs. In the end, those who remained to fight could not hold out and joined their fleeing brethren. Soon, the defence line defended by tens of thousands of nikancha was now completely empty, save for the discarded weapons, ammunition and supplies left in the wake of the mass exodus.

When Bloweyk noticed that the commotion had stopped, he secretly approached to scout the place out, only to be utterly stupefied at the sight of the spoil-littered ground.

Chapter 461 - Why Isn't Shiks Attacking?

The nikancha were unwilling to accept that they were massacred through and through in the battle with the Shiksan cavalry. They only admitted losing 126 brave scout warriors because they ran into 240 Shiksan cavalrymen. After giving all the best in their fight and paying a huge cost, they managed to strike the enemy back. The seven remaining brave warriors returned gloriously.

As for the camp-fleeing incident, the tens of thousands of nikancha youths saw moving lights in the distance and immediately thought they were being attacked by the Shiksan army. They immediately ran with their tails between their legs without visual confirmation of a single Shiksan soldier, leaving their weapons and armour behind in camp. They cleared out from the camp within a single night. That fact finally made the nikancha elders aware of their current predicament and spurred them into signing the deal with the theatre.

However, Claude still felt a little pensive for some reason. In the negotiations with the nikancha at headquarters, Bolonik and Skri actually gave them a discount. Fortunately, they were still rational and didn't reduce the amount of land they were taken. They only demanded a smaller sum than two million crowns in Claude's initial offer. All they needed to pay was 800 thousand crowns in the form of gold and silver ingots.

In Skri's correspondence, he explained that Bolonik worried that bargaining with the nikancha would delay the deal even longer, causing them to lose their opportunities in the war and slow down their building of defences at the frontlines, which would result in even more unnecessary losses.

That's why, after Skri and Bolonik's discussion, they decided they should take a step back. As long as the nikancha were willing to give up on the land Claude asked for, they would be able to be more lenient with the sum. After all, the nikancha were only willing to pay 500 thousand crowns at the start of the negotiation.

Claude, Eiblont and Birkin found it rather weird that the nikancha seemed to treasure their money more than their territory.

But after more thought, they came to the conclusion that the nikancha probably already occupied too much land on the continent. They could fit up to three times more of their population, to say nothing of their current five million. That was why they didn't think handing the theatre their land was a huge loss. Instead, it allowed them to avoid the Shiksan attacks, which was a wise move to make. With the theatre in their way, they could continue their tribal life in peace.

But when it came to funding, the nikancha had a completely different outlook about that. They believed handing over their territory was a big enough price to pay already and the sum was unnecessary. If the theatre defeated the Shiksans, then the theatre themselves would reward their soldiers, and if they lost, their troops would be up to themselves to punish. It had nothing to do with the nikancha. Claude's demand for them to pay two million crowns is a huge scheme.

It was quite difficult to sneak that sum of money away under the noses of the nikancha. Even after Bolonik and Skri gave them a half-off discount and only asked for a million, they refused to agree no matter what and said they would give 500 thousand at most.

The handing over of territory took only one day to complete, but they wasted five days on the funding without resolving it. In the end, Bolonik slammed the table and called 800 thousand crowns, saying that he wouldn't go down any further. Should they try to bargain again, they would be chased out. That was the straw that finally got the nikancha to agree.

Having come to an agreement, it meant that the eastern mountains, northern mountainous coasts and the area Claude demanded had been united into one territory. However, whether they could make it a new colony of the kingdom would depend on Claude and the results of the war with the Shiksans. If they won, they would be Aueran pioneers forging into new territory. If they lost, they would gain nothing and might even lose a few colonies along the way.

Claude, on the other hand, was quite confident about the war. It wasn't that he let his pride get over his head; he was almost certain in his victory for good reasons. Even though the Shiksans had seven standing corps of 400 thousand men, they wouldn't put them all on the offence. Given what he understood about their troop deployments, it was obvious they were trying to break through at the eastern mountains.

The plains on which Fanbix Hill stood was stationed with a standing corps to defend against the theatre's infiltration and surprise attacks against the supply base. With the two corps stationed at the borders of the northern mountainous coasts, three of their seven standing corps wouldn't be mobilised.

While there were four standing corps stationed at the borders of the eastern mountains, one of them was Royal Cavalry, a light-cavalry corps. It would be a fool's errand to get a cavalry unit to fight in the mountains.

That was why the Shiksans only really had three corps to use in their attacks. After they enter the eastern mountains, they would have to fight like before and use a corps to watch their supply line, leaving only around 100 thousand men from two corps, which Claude didn't worry about in the slightest.

Claude had the garrison lines stationed at the three defence lines at the eastern mountains retreat to their former base. One of Birkin's Monolith folks and two more combat lines were sent to take over the three defence lines. Thundercrash, on the other hand, would continue recuperating and reorganising as they waited for the Shiksans to attack.

However, it seemed the Shiksans were far more patient this time around. It was already the 6th month and they didn't show a single sign of wanting to attack at all. The informants in Cape Loducus City sent word that the Shiksans were still purchasing food and supplies on a large scale and transporting them to the various bases at the frontlines.

It seemed that the Shiksans were trying to have a three-month stockpile at the frontlines. They seemed to have been utterly terrified by being starved and wanted to do all they could to make sure all contingencies were taken. Even the informants working undercover for the wild-bull company received another large order for 100 thousand barrels of wheat ale. It would take three months to ship that all to Cape Loducus.

It would be better for the theatre the later the Shiksans attacked, ideally till next year. That way, at least half of the two corps could be armed with the new rifles. They could also perfect their defences at the frontlines. However, the 6th month passed and the 7th month came. The Shiksans still made no move, much to Claude's puzzlement. He couldn't figure out what they were up to at all.

What disappointed him more was even after he mobilised Wolfang and Tribe 131 to ambush Shiksan patrol tents and capture some of them, even the captives didn't know why they didn't launch any attack at all. It was as if they were placed there to be in a silent standoff against the theatre.

Another thing that troubled him and the other generals was how there was no news from Borkal at all since three months back when he set out for the mainland with gifts from the theatre to clarify the royal capital's opinion on them.

Based on the schedules, Borkal should've returned already. Additionally, the kingdom didn't send a single ship to the theatre during those three months. It was a highly suspicious situation. After Bolonik corresponded with the others, they settled on sending two more long-distance smuggling ships to the mainland for information gathering. They were to seek out the whereabouts of Borkal and his cohort.

No matter how worried Claude was about his childhood friend, however, he still had to pay attention to Shiksan movements. He personally went to the border of the eastern mountains to find out the reason, though he wasn't able to figure out after half a month there.

The Shiksans had narrowed down their security perimeter and only had their scouts act 2.5 kilometres in front of their camp. At that distance, while they would be attacked, they could wait for reinforcements in camp. That way, they could force the soldiers of Thundercrash to give up on the spoils of battle.

If Thundercrash emerged from their ambush location, they would be in the firing range of the prone enemies. And if they continued to face them off in this manner, the reinforcements from the camp would overwhelm them. If they couldn't immediately take out the Shiksan patrol tents in one go, they would have to leave the battlefield immediately if they wanted to avoid casualties.

Claude explicitly forbade sacrificing one's ally to wipe out the enemy, especially with the enemy holding numerical superiority. It was all the more important that they didn't suffer unnecessary casualties. In his opinion, the lives of his own troops were far more valuable than the Shiksans'. The ones in charge of the ambushes this time around weren't Wolfang or Tribe 131, but rather, Claude's own elite units.

Since ambushing didn't work, he switched his tactics to monitoring the enemy camp. What troubled him, however, was how the Shiksans conducted all sorts of training drills behind their camp day in and out. It was as if they were preparing for actual battle. After half a month of observation, he still hadn't noticed any sign of a Shiksan attack, forcing him to return to frontline command without any new insights.

At the end of the 7th month, Claude once more received word from the informants. According to a chief logistician in the supply base, the reason for their reluctance to attack was their still-ongoing supply shortage. They were waiting on another supply shipment in the middle of the 8th month.

Additionally, the Shiksan general that commanded the five Penitence corps in the previous war, Norbridon Bang Belondi, was forced to return to the kingdom to resign by Majid III. The one who took over was a 43-year-old army general, Marquis Kralio Dor Sirius.

The informants gained quite a bit of information about the general's background. If the retired General Belondi could be categorised as one of the old, conservative camp, the new general was the representative of the rare breed of officers in Shiks.

It was said that this general proclaimed that he would learn from the mistakes in the previous colonial wars to reorganise their army, research new weapons and cultivate elite units, all moves that antagonised the seniors in the Shiksan army. But before the rebellion in Shiks, Kralio took the initiative to join the battle and pledged his loyalty to Majid III, obtaining his confidence and favour in the process.

The only reason the Shiksan nobles' rebellion was put to a quick stop unlike the Aueran civil war that wrecked the kingdom into pieces in the three years it went on was mostly thanks to Kralio's efforts. He obtained a lot of merit in that conflict. In the latter stages of the rebellion, he commanded a light-cavalry corps and wedged into the rear of the rebellious nobles' army. In a short month, he swept through four dominions of the rebel nobles, causing their troops at the frontlines to crumble and ending the rebellion for good.

To reward him for his efforts, his noble rank was given a raise from count to marquis and his military rank went from lieutenant-general to general. That put him in the sights of the king, who held him as one of his key subjects. This time around, he was ordered to take up his post as commander-in-chief on Nubissia. It was plain to see that he carried the hopes of Majid III to bring the kingdom victory and glory in the coming war.

He wouldn't be an easy foe to deal with, that's for sure. Claude stroked his chin in deep thought. The informants reported that the new Shiksan general took over from the old general during the end of the 4th month. However, they only learned more about him during the end of the 7th month, which was a sign to how much of a low profile this general liked to keep to the point that the theatre hadn't realised the change in the commanders the whole time until now.

Additionally, the new commander-in-chief was known for his offensive tactics. As to where he would attack and how, it was something Claude had to consider.

Sometimes, Claude really admired Birkin for his calmness. He seemed completely confident about the defence line he set up and believed the Shiksans would never be able to breach it.

On the 13th of the 8th month, Seaking and the Alliance's navy arrived with a large shipment of supplies. When the informants reported that after the goods were moved to the frontlines, Claude gave the order to prepare for battle.

However, things turned out quite differently than he expected. The Shiksans didn't attack all the way to the end of the 8th month. The informants reported that Seaking and the Alliance's navy had sailed back from Cape Loducus. The ships that were docked near the coastline mostly came from the western coast with all sorts of food and supplies. Their captains left immediately after clearing the taxes and fees.

What in the world were the Shiksans doing?! Why weren't they attacking?! Claude felt a sense of frustration and doubt that unnerved him greatly.

Chapter 462 - Attack and Reinforcement

On the 3rd of the 9th month, the Shiksans finally made their move. They sent a corps against the eastern mountain range and used their new weapon -- a gigantic catapult that looked like the giant catapults of olden times. It could fire a projectile twice as large as an iron pumpkin up to 350 metres.

Whilst the first wave of defenders who encountered the enemy immediately used their light-infantry cannons against the catapults and destroyed one, the Shiksans reacted quickly and moved 30 wooden shield carts in front of the four remaining catapults. The light-infantry cannons couldn't do much after that. They had to fire basically blindly over the carts and hope to score a direct hit. They had little chance of that, however; they couldn't tell how close their shots were, so they couldn't adjust their fire. Their only hope was to spray the general area and hope to score a lucky hit.

The catapults' only weakness was their immobility. To call them cumbersome would be a masterwork in understatement. It took dozens of men minutes of backbreaking groans to make even the slightest adjustments, and hours to move them any distance at all. It took over a day to move them into place once the army was in place.

The veteran tribe holding the fort looked at the gigantic craters the explosions left -- faces pale. They all knew once the catapults had been moved into their final positions, all adjustments made, their impressive fortifications would crumble like sandstone in a man's hand. And all they could do was sit by and watch. They were no match for the enemy on the open field of battle.

They attempted a night attack, but the enemy was ready for them and easily pushed them back into the fort. The defenders limped back into their barracks, half their men short.

The following afternoon, when the first bomb fell against the walls, the order was given to abandon the fort and withdraw. Claude rushed to the frontlines in person immediately to observe this new threat.

Claude, Birkin, and Eiblont were relieved when they heard of the attack. They finally knew why the enemy's offensive had been so long delayed.

Claude nearly cursed aloud when he heard about the retreat from the fort due to the catapults that could fire iron pumpkins double the normal size over 300 metres. The enemy had been researching other kinds of artillery. They'd bet everything on the catapults.

Claude was quite frustrated. He had only finished the mortar's research, but it could only fling the lightest ammunition up to about 300 metres. It was no match for the enemy's catapult. The enemy only had to switch to normal munitions and they would outrange Claude's best weaponry twice over.

His only solace was the all but immobility of the weapons. Even after three days of travelling to the frontlines, the catapults had yet to be put in place at the next fort to come under attack. The first one wouldn't be ready for at least another day, and that was being optimistic.

For one, the roads had to be repaired and specially modified to take the catapults' incredible weight. If not they'd sink right through the road. Without momentum, almost nothing was enough to defeat a competent opponent, and Claude had competence in spades.

Claude really wanted to laugh. It looked as if they were helping the theatre smooth the way to Cape Loducus. Based on their construction rate, it would take three months for them to reach the third line. After that, the road they repaired could be used to transport people and goods.

Perhaps the theatre could use the time to repair some roads all the way from Vebator to connect them with the ones the enemy had built, Claude reasoned.

He pulled a second-lieutenant near him and asked, "Are the Shiksans building the roads properly before bringing their catapults forward little by little without attacking us in the slightest?"

"No, General. Apart from moving the gigantic catapults and repairing the roads, they only have a tight security perimeter around their road workers. We've launched a few night attacks, but we weren't able to get within 300 metres. The moment we're exposed, they would use their new catapults to attack where we're from. A good number of our casualties were incurred this way."

Claude looked at the road-building soldiers with his telescope and found that their security perimeter was indeed rather complete. There were three rows of shield carts at the front and back of the builders and catapults, neatly surrounding them. On Claude's side were two light-infantry cannons that continued to fire at the catapults, but the round shot only flew past the catapults, being fired from over 600 metres away.

"Is there a point in that?" Claude asked, pointing at the cannons.

The second lieutenant shook his head. "No. It only causes the enemy slight trouble. They don't really suffer many casualties from this. The mortars we fling at them during night attacks do much better. Destroying those shield carts is pointless too. We wrecked ten of them last night, but they came back with 30 the next day.

"We are unable to approach those catapults at all. The enemy uses the shield carts as cover from our night attack squads. We're unable to breach their perimeter and when the battle gets heated, their artillery causes our attackers huge losses."

"Have you tried other methods?"

The soldier nodded. "We used mines and caused them losses the last two times, around ten plus of them. We also destroyed two shield carts. But they soon came up with a countermeasure. Look, General. That's a minesweeper they made."

Claude looked curiously in that direction and saw it. It was essentially a shield cart with three-metre-long wooden arms with a log underneath it. When the Shiksans push it, the log will roll forwards and trigger a mine explosion. The shrapnel from the explosion would be stopped by the shield cart.

It could probably be considered the ancestors of modern minesweepers. Its design was primitive, but sufficient to deal with the war theatre's first-generation mines. While they could only be used once, being destroyed after every mine discovered exploded, the Shiksans weren't in any rush. The contraption suited their needs just fine. Claude really admired their adaptability, for them to be able to figure out a countermeasure to the mines so quickly.

Even though the Shiksans were there to repair the roads, Claude wasn't going to let them have their way so easily. He gave the order for the various forts in the mountains to continue their normal attacks and only retreat after the catapults become a threat to them. He didn't want his men to be blasted away for no good reason, but he wouldn't be allowing the Shiksans to proceed unobstructed to the central defence line either.

While the forts ahead weren't able to stop the enemy attack, they could at least delay the enemy. The Shiksans would only be able to force them to retreat once the catapults were in position. That would take even more time and manpower, especially considering the ongoing road repairs.

In the meantime, Claude would have to find a way to neutralise the gigantic catapult launchers. The Shiksans were aware the key to their victory lay with the catapults. So, they paid lots of attention towards the mountains ahead. For every fort they emptied out, they sent their own men to take it over and defend it, armed with the standard catapults and iron pumpkins as well as four light-infantry cannons.

But as Claude was searching for an appropriate way to take out the catapult launchers, some doubts welled in his mind. Wasn't it said that the new Shiksan commander, Kralio, was famed for his offensive skills? Was this really the method he chose?

If they placed their hopes in the gigantic catapult launchers and slowly made their advance, stocking up enough supplies in the base near the mountains would make sense. However, a time-wasting and resource-heavy plan like that smelled strongly of textbook warfare the old generation would use. It seemed to be in contrast to the style of the new, young general of Shiks.

"I think I can do it," Eiblont said, pointing at the terrain around him, "There's a path through the valley surrounded by these hills. The three hills are also about the same height. We can set up a ring-like defence. We can also dig trenches at the foot of the hills. I doubt their new catapults can launch their bombs all the way up the defences of the hills. Our mortars, on the other hand, can cover the entire path thanks to the height difference. Unless the Shiksans mount an all-out attack to conquer all three hills, they wouldn't be able to pass through the defence line there."

The terrain was rather hard to attack. As it was too close to the central defence line, it wasn't given much attention. But now that the Shiksans had come up with their nigh-unbeatable catapult launchers, the hills would be the best place to put up a strong defence.

Claude nodded. "Alright. Then set up a defence line here to fight it out with the Shiksans for good. However, we don't know whether the Shiksans will continue building roads for three more months before fighting us here for half a year. We don't know whether the supplies will be able to last them right now."

As long as he didn't incur too many casualties, Claude didn't really mind the supply drain. He even wanted the fight with the Shiksans to drag on for two to three years, as the war was being fought on nikancha territory, meaning it wouldn't affect the stability and economic development of the eight colonies at all. In fact, the increased demand during war would even stimulate their economy.

In stark contrast, the Shiksans had three times the troops of the war theatre. They already paid a high price to lease Cape Loducus, and the rest of their spending went into food and all sorts of other equipment and supplies, all of which they had to pay a large cost to procure. Shiks had already spent an astronomical amount on this war to the point they could no longer just back down. They had to hold on until they collapsed completely.

If the seven standing corps of Shiks continued to fight the war theatre for three more years, there was no doubt Majid III's officers on the frontlines would be completely stumped. The sheer cost of feeding 400 thousand troops for three years across another continent would easily empty Shiks' coffers.

As such, Claude felt there was something really wrong about their chosen method of attack. Who knew how long it'd take them to fight their way to Vebator while building roads for their slow catapults? Even so, he wasn't able to find out what's wrong. The Shiksans weren't swarming them, but rather, slowly advancing and taking one fort after another at a snail's pace.

Birkin came over with a letter from headquarters that Seaking and the Alliance's navy didn't return to the mainland. Rather, they sailed to the near waters of the colonies and launched harassment attacks on Port Vebator, though they didn't do too much damage. After the port's defences counterattacked, the warships left.

The linesman of the Monolith line stationed there said that the enemy fleets were mostly comprised of warships without long-distance transport ships. Their aim was probably to distract the colonies while the rest sailed south, perhaps to head to Robisto's Port Patres. The defending troops there were alerted to watch out against the sneak attack by the two enemy fleets.

Since Shiks' two fleets had only warships and no transport ships, they were obviously going for harassment attacks. Claude, Birkin and Eiblont didn't really mind it. The war theatre's three deep-water ports, Port Vebator, Port Patres and Tyrrsim's Port Cobius were each defended by a line of garrison troops. The sentry cannons on the walls could easily ward off the enemy fleets.

Apart from those ports, the other coasts of the war theatre were surrounded by reefs, making it impossible for warships to approach. The only way was to send smaller vessels to the shore, but the war theatre had security outposts along their coasts. The moment the enemy chose to go ashore, the nearby garrison would be alerted to wipe them out.

That was why the eagle message stated that the generals didn't need to panic over that, as they were already prepared against enemy harassment measures. The enemy warships wouldn't be allowed to cause the war theatre any harm.

On the 21st of the 9th month, Claude received word from the informants again. Royal Cavalry, which was supposed to be stationed at the eastern border, suddenly returned to the main supply base at the rear for reorganisation. It was said to be normal training drills which would conclude in two days.

Three days later, the informants reported again that Royal Cavalry disappeared all of a sudden. The informants guessed that they returned to the eastern border immediately, but they weren't able to find out as Cape Loducus City forbade its inhabitants from leaving.

Are they kidding? Claude wondered, though he did make sure to highlight Royal Cavalry in his notebook. It was no easy feat to cause a whole corps to vanish over the night with nobody noticing.

Two days later on the 27th, Claude received an urgent reinforcement request from headquarters. The Shiksans had come ashore at a small fishing town in Anfiston and occupied it.

Chapter 463 - Tricks and Countermeasures

"How did they get ashore?!" Eiblont shouted, absolutely fuming.

Claude's expression paled.

"We've fallen for their trick. They attacked the eastern border to draw us away from the coast..."

He finally understood from where his sense of dread had come. The enemy's odd behaviour had stumped him completely. He'd tried to find any straw's shadow at which the enemy could have been grasping to try and break through their defences in the east, but he couldn't find anything. Their defences were solid, no push could have gotten through and it should have been blindingly obvious to the enemy as well.

Clearly, they had known that as well, but they'd not been planning to fight in the east at all. They'd made themselves as threatening a sight as possible to draw as much of Claude's side's forces to them as possible before striking along the weakened coast. They were now marching on Anfiston, to cut the head off the snake. Anfiston was the capital of the theatre in all but name. Taking it would be just as devastating to the colony as taking the royal capital would be to the kingdom back on Freia.

Birkin was not done yet, however.

"Where did they get the troops? Aren't all seven corps in Cape Loducus? Port Vebator only reported warships, no transports."

Claude sighed.

"You're forgetting their marines."

Shiksan navies all had marines, about a line per flotilla on average, though the number could vary greatly depending on the nature of the deployment. They rarely did anything so they were easily forgotten.

The days-old letter in question had said Shiks' Seaking and the Alliance's navy had sailed directly into their waters and fired a cannonade at the city. Everyone assumed this was yet another skirmish, so they'd reported it as such and forgotten about it.

Birkin sighed and consoled Eiblont.

"Don't panic. They have just two lines of marines. It's no big deal even if they take the town. Lanu has a line's men from Monolith. The veteran garrisoneers are still there as well. They won't get much from this even if it all goes their way."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Eiblont," Claude said as he searched for one of the reports, "Look at the reports on the missing Royal Cavalry."

"You suspect the corps' gone south?" Birkin asked.

He immediately understood the implication.

"But where did they get the ships?"

"Here."

Claude pointed at another letter that stated the transport ships stopped by the cape to transport food and other supplies. Many captains complained about their slow work. Every package had to be triple checked. If they didn't have to do that, they could easily sail directly to the western coast after paying the taxes.

"They intentionally delayed the ships and picked out suitable vessels. When Royal Cavalry arrived that night, they boarded without us noticing.

"Since Seaking and the Alliance's navy didn't bring any transport ships, they didn't draw our attention. That's why they could suddenly get ashore and take the town. They just need to hold on for about ten days for the corps to arrive. We aren't facing two lines, but a whole corps, more if other reinforcements are on their way."

The two's faces had gone pale as weak wax. Eiblont slammed the table with his fist.

"The waters near the town are shallow! No large transport ship can get close to shore. How did they do it?"

"I'm not too sure, but I think they probably did something similar to what Prince Hansbach did with Bluefeather in Ibnist. They probably had agents or turncoats in the town that assembled a makeshift pier."

Claude's guess wasn't without basis. While the waters near the fishing town were riddled with reefs, they didn't go out that far, a couple hundred metres at the most severe. Most importantly, there was a sheer drop right after the last reef. The ships could sail right up to the edge of the reef without any problems. The rest of the coastline was well guarded, but they'd left that stretch of water vacant because they'd thought the reefs to be ample protection. It had now proven a dangerous mistake.

"Report! Headquarters sent an urgent message," the first-lieutenant staff officer from communications shouted as he dashed into the room.

He held out another dispatch. It had been sent out on the same day as the request for reinforcements.

Skri had sent it and it detailed, in as much as a dispatch by eagle could, the town's occupation. A merchant owner of a shipyard in the town had been identified as a spy. He'd assembled a fleet of coastal boats under the guise of a new business venture, and built a sturdier version of the river pontoon bridge. On the night of the enemy's arrival, he'd assembled the pontoon pier and sent the boats out to ferry the enemy to shore. The marines had quietly taken out the local forces and government. The town's inhabitants woke up to Shiksan occupation the following morning.

The people had risen up against them once they realised what had happened, but the uprising was put down most violently. The town had been put on lockdown, but a couple managed to slip out and headed for Lanu to report what had happened. Those that made it had reported they'd seen the Shiksans forcing the townsfolk to build fortifications around the town.

It took a day to get to Lanu from the town, but luckily a couple of the escapees ran into a small merchant caravan which rushed them to the city when it heard what had happened.

Bolonik had been shocked nearly out of his mind and had sent out several light-cavalry tents to verify the reports immediately. He had confirmation the following day. The letter said that, at the time of writing, they were making preparations to take back the town.

They were mobilising the town's two-line garrison as well as Port Patres and Dorinibla River's forces. In all, it'd give them a folk and they believed it would be enough.

"No! Don't do that!" Birkin yelled despite the futility of the gesture at a piece of paper, his face pale.

Bolonik was clearly unaware that by the time they moved on the town it would have a corps of occupiers rather than just two lines. They'd be throwing their folk to the wolves if they got there after the reinforcements had landed.

Even worse than the numbers was the terrain surrounding the town. The open, flat plains around the little fishing town were perfect for light cavalry. On top of that, those four lines were the main defensive force for the entire colony. If they were lost, nothing could stop the invaders from taking the two colonies and perhaps a lot more by the time the main force could be moved back from the east.

"Send an eagle message to headquarters immediately. Notify them of the light-cavalry corps and tell the general to hold his position. Under no circumstances is he to march on the town. Thundercrash will set out for Lanu immediately. We expect to be there within the fortnight. He is to keep to the city's fortifications. The only other place I want him fighting the enemy for is the bridge across Dorinibla River," Claude decided immediately.

Thundercrash needed time, but Royal Cavalry had begun south three days earlier. It would take 15 days to get to the town from Cape Loducus. In other words, the corps would land in ten to twelve more days.

Thundercrash was in the mountains. It would take at least ten days to get back Moknad. The sea route was sealed off however, so they'd have to march. It would take at least 16 days to reach Anfiston, and that was at a forced march. Claude wasn't too hopeful of the city still being in friendly hands when they arrived.

He made a couple nervous calculations.

"Requisition the six garrison lines from Vebator's Moknad, Cromwell, Balingana, Anfiston, Mormaly and Aduras. The theatre should still have twelve garrison lines. Apart from our two corps, they're the only reliable forces we have.

"The garrison lines in Port Vebator and Port Patres can't be moved. Cromwell, Balingana, Anfiston, Mormaly, and Aduras each have a line. Dorinibla River's defences also have a line. The remaining three lines are on the coasts, but since the enemy is ashore already, holding the coasts is pointless. Move them back to Tyrrsim. At the very least, we need to keep Port Cobius.

"The theatre's reserves are all centred around Vebator, Cromwell, and Balingana. The coasts have two lines and Wickhamsburg has a folk of reserves. While they are the remainders of the reorganisation, they still have a certain degree of fighting capability. They have, after all, been trained for more than half a year.

"Our situation makes deployment a huge problem. There's still Dorinibla River. If the Shiksans take Anfiston and Robisto and stop us at the river, it'd be over. All our wealth and supplies are focused in the five colonies beyond the southern bank.

"If they get in our way, there'll be not even a sliver of hope to reclaim the colonies. Other things aside, Shiks has two fleets. All they need is a light-class ship flotilla and the colonies might as well be back on Freia.

"We have to hold the river. We can give up Lanu and move the supplies into the mountains, in fact. I recall we have some fortifications between Anfiston and Robisto named after me.

"Major Masonhughes, record what I said and send it to headquarters. Advise them to reinforce Dorinibla River, give up on Lanu, and retreat to the defence lines in the mountains. Tell General Bolonik I suspect there will be two more standing corps sailing down south apart from Royal Cavalry. Ask him to be careful and hold on until our reinforcements."

"Understood, General." Masonhughes saluted before dashing out with his notebook.

"Why don't we send the reserve troops in Wickhamsburg to reinforce them first? Having a folk there can buy us a few more days," Birkin suggested.

Claude shook his head. "I had the two garrison lines defending the coastal area go south because they're veterans that have strong fighting capability. Cromwell and Balingana's lines were also sent south. I'll need the reserve folk to take over the defences those four lines left empty.

"The reserve troops are a folk of infantry. It will take even more time for them to reach Dorinibla River than our light-cavalry troops. Not to mention, we have to prevent letting the two colonies be taken by the Shiksans after they're emptied out. With the reserve folk there, I believe they can stop smaller Shiksan surprise-attack parties.

"Eilon, set out immediately. Our Thundercrash 2nd Folk is still stationed at Port Vebator. I'll need you to immediately take them back to headquarters. If Lanu has fallen, at least keep the defence line at Dorinibla River and wait for my reinforcements. I will send 1st Folk over once I gather them."

"Understood." Eiblont saluted before leaving.

Claude turned to Birkin. "I'll need to take one of your lines here too to defend Blackstone Arms Factory. If my worries that they'll take the five colonies become real, the factory will be our only source of fresh supplies."

Birkin nodded. "It's fine. I'll still have five garrison lines after you leave, one folk from Monolith and a line of direct units. It's not wrong to call it the strongest force in the corps. We can definitely stop their attacks here. Go ambush the Shiksans that attacked us without warning. I'll await your triumphant return."

Two days later, Claude gathered the Thundercrash units stationed at the borders of the mountain areas and was about to march them back to headquarters. What relieved Claude tremendously was how Bolonik decided against attacking the fishing town after receiving the letter. As they evacuated the citizens and supplies in Lanu, he decided to lead two lines of troops to stop the Shiksans at Lake Lanu to prevent a cruel ending for the city.

Bolonik justified by saying that if they gave up on Lanu, the Shiksans could easily march to Dorinibla River unopposed. The defence line there also targeted the river, not what lay beyond, so Bolonik needed more time to refit the fortifications.

But when Claude departed, he received another report from the informants. The Shiksans didn't bother to hide this time around and retreated the two standing corps from the frontlines rather brazenly. They didn't even bother to reorganise properly in camp and reached the cape in broad daylight to board the transport ships waiting near the docks and sailed south.

Chapter 464 - Crossing the Floating Bridge

With a loud boom, the explosion from the mortar blasted building and man into pieces and sent them flying through the fiery, smoke-stained sky. It was a grisly sight. Bolonik watched through his telescope unfazed, calmly giving his adjutant the order to have the band of reservists in the rear head to the frontlines as reinforcements to make up for the lost defenders.

It was the 16th day of the siege, 23 days since the fishing town had been occupied. Even with all the fortifications and preparations Bolonik had made, he didn't think he would be greeted with such a bloody urban battle. Of the 13 thousand defenders, less than six could still fight. The casualties had gone above half their total number.

The enemy had initially only used light cavalry, but Bolonik had ample ways to deal with them. Since Lanu had just been renovated, it didn't have its walls yet. However, the street network had proven unfit for the light cavalry. The proud Shiksan troops had thought Lanu would fall like a ripe fruit from a tree, only to be ambushed time and again by defenders hidden in alleys and behind street corners, suffering great losses.

The cavalry soon didn't dare to enter Lanu. They instead chose to surround three sides of the city. With Lake Lanu in the east, there was little they could do from that direction. They watched as the defenders evacuated the remaining folk and the casualties over the lake to the opposite bank, before retreating deep into the mountains.

However, from the 11th day of Lanu's encirclement, the two standing corps finally docked at the fishing town and rushed to Lanu. They rested just half a day before launching a harsh attack. In four short days, Bolonik lost nearly a thousand men. While the enemy's casualties were a few times greater, they could afford such losses. Bolonik couldn't.

"I don't know how much longer Thundercrash will be..." Bolonik muttered to himself.

All he could do was place his hopes in being reinforced. He sometimes regretted neglecting the odd points about the owner of the shipyard in the fishing town and actually believing his stories.

The coastlines across the various colonies had always been matters the theatre took seriously. Bolonik himself had gone to check on them before. He had also gone to the fishing town. It didn't have any troops, mainly because it was so close to the capital, making it easy to reinforce at short notice. Additionally, the waters near the town were riddled with reefs. Large ships aside, even small boats had to wait for high tide to sail to the shore.

The fishing town's shipyard could only produce a four-man boat that could be used in really shallow water for near-shore fishing. When Bolonik had gone there on an inspection tour, he had seen a few hundred boats connected to each other in threes or fours by large wooden boards. The weights placed in the bridge made the boats sink almost entirely beneath the water.

Bolonik had asked what it was for and the merchant had said he was testing the fishing boats' endurance and watertightness. They would be submerged for half a month while they were inspected. They were sailing close to shore, after all, so if they didn't have such tests, they couldn't tell which boats would hold up to the elements. In another ten days, the boats that passed could be sold to people in Cromwell and Balingana.

Bolonik knew the two colonies were populated mostly by soldiers' families. They could stand to gain an additional source of income with fishing boats, so he wasn't surprised at the number of orders the shipyard had received. He even gave the merchant a few words of encouragement, given how lucrative the business seemed to be.

He only realised he'd been duped when the enemy landed and took the town. The light-cavalry tent he had sent to scout the town also reported that the enemy had used the boats to sail across the reefs to the floating bridges.

If the Shiksan spy hadn't been there to receive them, there would have been no hope to make it ashore. If they tried to construct a floating bridge themselves, it would take a day, at least. Before they got ashore, they would already be surrounded by defenders. That had been why the theatre had neglected the town's defences and hadn't garrisoned it. In the end, the enemy took advantage of their oversight.

But it was too late for regrets. Bolonik only hoped Thundercrash would come before Lanu fell as well. In the last of Claude's letters, he had said clearly that he could give up on Lanu, but had to hold onto the defence line at Dorinibla. Bolonik didn't think Claude's judgement was right, since protecting Lanu and stopping the enemy should be possible with the direct-unit tribe armed with the new rifles.

He had managed to crush the light-cavalry forces using them. It had boosted his confidence greatly and had lifted his men's morale. But he only realised how powerful the enemy's artillery truly was when the two Shiksan corps attacked. Their range stretched up to 300 metres and the rounds were double the size of iron pumpkins, creating crater after crater with their devastating explosions.

Lanu's first line of defence had fallen quickly, but the enemy didn't fare well once they entered the city. The streets and walls forced them to abandon shield carts and move their catapults without their protection. His men launched a counterattack and destroyed two of them.

The enemy then changed their strategy. They kept the three remaining launchers out of the city and used the normal iron pumpkins to pave the way. That struck Bolonik low, but he ordered his men to give their foes the same treatment with their own mortars. They managed to cause them a few times more casualties than they suffered, forcing the Shiksans to send out men to clear out the path before once more moving the giant catapults to bombard the city with iron pumpkins and larger bombs.

The mines finally came to good use in the battle in Lanu. Some of the defenders were forced to give up on certain checkpoints they held. The Shiksans that swarmed in often stepped on mines and tens of them got taken out with every explosion. When they encountered a good number of them, they began to suspect everything and hesitate in every step they took. The speed of their advance was no doubt slowed, giving the defenders much more time to prepare.

Regrettably, Weyblon's factory was in the way of the Shiksans' direction of attack. The moment the light-cavalry showed up outside Lanu, the factory had been evacuated. Not many mortars, mines and ammunition produced there were left. Bolonik worried he couldn't hold Lanu for much longer.

After all, the two corps of Shiks easily had over 120 thousand men. Coupled with the light-cavalry corps that had them surrounded, there were nearly 200 thousand enemies. Bolonik only had around 13 thousand. He estimated that he would only be able to hold on against more than ten times their numbers for 23 days at most, and that was assuming they only kept a third of Lanu's area and a defence line. It would have been considered a miraculous result already.

Now, there were less than seven thousand defenders left, whereas the enemy had over 160 thousand, still a domineering number. Coupled with the shortage of mines and mortars they faced, the pressure on them mounted continuously. They began to suffer more and more casualties.

At the crossing point at Dorinibla River, Eiblont was fuming from his nose from the anger. "Get me the person in charge! What is going on here?!"

They spared so much effort to get to the floating bridges to cross the river, only to find the two banks surrounded by people. At the north bank were veterans in the garrison lines with nothing to do and at the south were refugees carrying around whatever belongings they could.

Of the two floating bridges across the river, one was for the refugees and the other for the forces. Yet, a wheel of a carriage with a large number of supplies fell into the river, causing the carriage to block up the bridge used by the troops.

It took the sweaty supervisor half an hour to get to Eiblont. Eiblont rebuked him so harshly and demanded an explanation. He almost wanted to shoot the man dead.

The terrified supervisor immediately explained that the carriage had heavy supplies of the local garrison line's linesman. The sheer weight broke the planks on the floating bridge. Additionally, the linesman demanded the supervisor to be responsible for the loss of his goods.

"Get me that linesman!" Eiblont roared at his guards. "Toss that carriage and all the goods into the river and clear out the bridge for crossing!"

It seemed that the high-ranking officer transferred to the linesman position was enjoying a rather luxurious life, for him to be able to collect up to a carriage full of mementos and local specialities during his station there.

"Where's your superior officers? Call all of them here," Eiblont ordered the veterans.

Soon, two colonels showed up before him.

"What units are you from?"

"I am Colonel Rimandok, linesman of Garrison Line 108. We were ordered to be stationed at Wickhamsburg."

"I am Colonel Frius, linesman of Garrison Line 114. Our station is in Cromwell's coastal area."

"Where are your troops?"

"Line 108 just arrived yesterday and is currently crossing the river," Rimandok replied as he pointed at his men.

"Line 114 just arrived this morning. We're resting," Frius said.

Eiblont pointed at the carriage on the bridge. "Do you two know what's going on with that?"

The colonels looked each other in the eye, before Rimandok spoke, "General, that is the logistics unit of Line 117. Their line defends Beckhillsburg. It's said that they managed to hunt lots of wild bulls for their meat and leather on the plains. They are going to transport them to Port Patres to be sold. Due to the strong winds yesterday, it would be unsafe to drive across the river, so they didn't. They only started this morning as the wind got weaker. Yet, one plank of the bridge caved from the weight and now everything's stuck."

Eiblont chuckled coldly and looked at the other bridge filled with refugees and turned to the supervisor of the bridges. "What's up with that floating bridge? Why aren't you giving priority to the troops and chasing the refugees away?"

The supervisor slumped to the ground. "General, I wanted to do that this morning as well, but some of them claimed to be a council member and pushed my men aside in an attempt to cross the river. The refugees behind swarmed in and we couldn't stop them even if we tried. They all claimed to be the relatives of some member in the corps, and those lower down in the hierarchy don't dare offend them and had to let them use one of the bridges..."

The refugees from Anfiston were mostly relatives of soldiers. The people evacuated by Bolonik from Lanu were going to Cromwell and Balingana to join their other associates. They were indeed not wrong that their family members served in Thundercrash or Monolith. The bridge's management was only staffed by a small outfit in charge of collecting toll. They couldn't afford to offend the families of the soldiers.

Eiblont's guards returned with a fat colonel. The man's face was pale and his pants seemed wet, as if he had let himself leak no long ago.

Eiblont began to chuckle at the sight. "So, it's you, Colonel Felix... I didn't think your figure would grow so rich since I met you last year... You're double the size you were back then! Life is going well for you, I suppose."

The fat colonel shivered. "General, p-please forgive me this once... on account of our old relationship... I won't ever dare do this again..."

Eiblont casually shook his head. "Colonel, I'm really disappointed. When you served under me, you were a courageous officer with a good future. When you told me you were going to be transferred to a local-defence force, I felt that it was a shame. I had a hunch that it wouldn't take you more than ten years before becoming a kingdom's general officer.

"But you refused my offer, saying that you grew to hate the battlefield and want a life of peace. I've granted that request of yours and let you become linesman of Beckhillsburg's line, which is stationed near your farmstead so you can accompany your aging parents.

"I really want to know why only half of your men have crossed, despite being stationed twice as close as the troops from Wickhamsburg, who have all arrived. Could you explain? Also, you received an urgent order to reinforce Lanu. Why are you carrying around so many goods to do business in Port Patres?"

The colonel couldn't even respond. He lowered his head and begged, "General... please forgive me... This won't happen again..."

Eiblont sighed.

"I really want to shoot you dead now, but it would be too light a punishment. Take him away. He must be court-martialed. We'll deal with him after the war."

The two other colonels' faces paled. They knew full well what the general's words entailed. Had Felix been shot there and then, it would have been the end of the matter. But Eiblont insisted he be court-martialed. That meant that not only Felix himself would answer for his crimes, the benefits his family enjoyed would also be reclaimed.

"Alright, Colonel Rimandok, I have a task for you. Take your troops to the other side of the river and split the refugees on the other bank. Let us cross first. As for Colonel Frius, your task is to cross the river and arrest all officers in cahoots with Colonel Felix in Line 117, understood?"

"Yes, General." They hurriedly saluted.

Chapter 465 - Meeting and Surprise Attack

Claude only arrived at the river at the end of the 10th month. It took 28 days in total to travel from the defence lines at the eastern border to there. He was six days slower than Eiblont and his men, but there were now four floating bridges, which Line 108 helped construct. Colonel Rimandok respectfully welcomed Claude at the crossing point.

Rimandok and Line 114's linesman, Frius, were Claude's former subordinates who had served in Thundercrash's 1st Folk. The reason for the former's transfer was his injury to his waist, while Frius felt his age catching up with him and applied for a transfer to a local-defence posting.

"General Eiblont has arrived at Lanu with Thundercrash 2nd Folk. They've already wiped out a light-cavalry line and an infantry tribe in the initial clash while suffering two thousand casualties. General Bolonik suffered light injuries. He led two lines and a tribe and held Lanu for 27 days. Half of the city has been reduced to rubble. By the time they met General Eiblont, he only had around four thousand men left," Rimandok reported in detail.

Claude's adjutant, Masonhughes, highlighted the battle zones outside Lanu.

"Your Line 108 and Frius' Line 114 will be stationed at Dorinibla River Defence Line. Now, there are three garrison lines there. The reorganised Line 117 has been ordered by General Eiblont to head to the town of Jinkle to reinforce Claude Defence Line further. The garrison lines stationed at the coasts of Balingana have also arrived at Claude Defence Line."

Claude dropped his pen with a satisfied smile. He could finally be relieved. Eiblont had done rather well. He didn't gather up all the garrison lines to save Lanu together, but rather strengthened the forces defending two other crucial areas to take them off their list of worries.

"Major Masonhughes, order the troops to cross the river. We'll set up camp and rest for two days once we're on the other side. Also, get me Colonel Myjack and Captain Bloweyk," Claude instructed, "Colonel Rimandok, I'll still have to trouble your men to help my troops set up camp so they can rest sooner. They've been marching a day and a night and need nothing more than sleep."

"Understood, General. I'll get my men to immediately start. We'll get some food ready for you too." He saluted before leaving.

Myjack and Bloweyk soon came.

"I need you two to do something." Claude tapped on the map. "The fishing port town is the Shiksans' crucial weakness. While they can forage for supplies or food in our territory, they'll have to count on the port for their ammunition. 1st Folk will stay here for two days to recover before going to reinforce Lanu.

"However, Tribe 131 and Wolfang can only rest a day. Set out tomorrow night for the town. I don't need you to occupy it. Just do some damage and burn it down. Cut off the Shiksans' access to the bridges and their ships so they can't get any more supplies that way. As long as you destroy the town, the Shiksans will have nowhere to escape. We can harvest them for merits as we please later, understood?"

The two of them saluted in unison. "Understood, General."

Claude waved them away. "You two, cross the river with your units first and camp at a well-hidden area. You don't have to notify me when you depart tomorrow. Take care not to be discovered."

After the two left, Claude turned back to the map and focused on the intersection between the two forces. He was quite curious about the sudden change in the enemy's style of attack. They launched their attack in the eastern mountains to draw the theatre's full attention before secretly getting ashore at the fishing town. It was the classic misdirection tactic.

However, the Shiksans' attack became stiff and textbook again after they got ashore at the town. While Lanu was where the theatre's headquarters was located, and occupying it would be a great boost to morale and cast a veil of doom across the theatre's troops across the colonies, Dorinibla River Defence Line was far more crucial in comparison.

If Claude were the Shiksan commander, he would only send a folk of light cavalry to keep an eye on Lanu. They didn't have to attack and only had to keep the defenders inside. Then, he would send the rest of the light cavalry to Dorinibla River Defence Line and wipe out the defenders there. After the two standing corps arrived, he would send them to conquer Port Patres, an excellent deep-water port, with the help of their two navies. That way, Seaking and the Alliance's navy would have a good place to dock, which was crucial to the war.

Upon taking the port, he would send a standing corps to Dorinibla's defence line to defend against reinforcements sent by the theatre. He would then use the two fleets to control the waters and have the other four standing corps moved over before slowly chipping away at the garrison troops in the other five colonies south to the river. That way, Shiks would end up the final victor.

Yet, Shiks' light-cavalry corps and two standing corps were flung at Lanu after they arrived. It ended up with the whole matter dragging out over nearly a month, and even then, Lanu still stood. The moment Eiblont crossed the river with 2nd Folk, the Shiksans had lost all hope of winning the war.

Claude found it really odd that the Shiksan troops' direction varied so greatly. It was as if their commander had been immediately changed. For instance, with 2nd Folk's arrival at Lanu as the first batch of reinforcements of a 30-thousand-strong light-cavalry folk, the Shiksans still persisted in trying to fight in Lanu. They were simply asking for trouble.

While they still had two standing corps, only a folk remained of their light-cavalry corps. Royal Cavalry had been too careless in the beginning. They barged into Lanu only to fall for the defenders' ambushes, managing only to retreat after losing nearly two whole lines of troops. They no longer dared to attack Lanu ever again and merely maintained a security perimeter from a distance. They also sent two lines of troops to Mormaly for foraging food and other supplies.

Later, the two Shiksan standing corps arrived and began their fight in Lanu. While only four thousand plus of the 13 thousand defenders were left, the Shiksans ended up losing a few times more that number. The kill-death ratio wasn't even 1 to 5. One of the two standing corps was practically out of commission, while the remaining 70 thousand men were really low on morale and fighting spirit.

Under such circumstances, Claude couldn't understand why the Shiksans would face off against Thundercrash outside of Lanu at a time like this. Did they still think they held numerical superiority?

Claude didn't have a way to deal with the Shiksans back in the mountains because the roads were cramped and one couldn't spot Shiksans from a hundred metres away from the top of the hills. But to reach them, they would have to first go down to the foot of the hill before climbing up again. By the time they reached, they would've run out of breath already. Not to mention, Thundercrash was an offensive light-cavalry corps. In the mountains, they had to give up on their mounts to become infantry. The theatre was quite short on troops, so Thundercrash had no choice but to be mobilised.

A third of Anfiston was mountainous, while two-thirds were plains and lakes. Lanu was located on the plains beside the lake, which was incredibly suited for light-cavalry hit-and-run tactics. Even if the Shiksans had double their two standing corps' numbers, Claude wouldn't bother to take them seriously.

Two days quickly passed and the troops recovered their stamina. The war horses that travelled far were no longer fatigued after proper feeding and care. Claude was quite satisfied with the state of things after his check and blew the horn tune to gather up.

"Colonel Dyavid, 3rd Line shall be the vanguard this time. Maintain marching pace and reach Lanu in three days. If you encounter enemy light cavalry, don't spare them. Tell your men that the Shiksans have their asses lined up ready for us to kick! Go. Don't disappoint our enemies."

"Yes, General!" Dyavid saluted before leaving the main tent spiritedly. Back then, the vanguard would usually be Berklin's 1st Line or Moriad's 2nd Line. It was finally 3rd Line's turn, and he also got permission to fight. He decided he would make his line the pride of 1st Folk without letting 5th Line of the 2nd Folk steal all the glory.

Eiblont's reports were delivered by a messenger. 2nd Folk had departed for Lanu after resting for only one day following the river crossing with Line 1305, also known as 5th Line, as the vanguard. It took them two and a half days to reach the outskirts of Lanu. 5th Line's leading tribe detected a Shiksan stronghold near the city that served to prevent the defenders in the city from escaping. It was manned by only a tribe of men.

So, 5th Line's light-cavalry tribe immediately charged into the camp and started slaughtering away, managing to draw Royal Cavalry's attention at the same time. A tribe of enemy cavalry came as reinforcements just in time for the rest of 5th Line to arrive. They walked right into a deathtrap. The Shiksans only continued to send more and more men. In the end, the whole of Line 1305 was involved in the fight with the two Shiksan cavalry lines.

More than 15 thousand people fought in a chaotic mess, all with riding scimitars. The opposing sides stuck to each other like glue. In the end, the other light-cavalry lines of 2nd Folk arrived and forced the Shiksans to flee. While 2nd Folk lost nearly two thousand light-cavalry troops in that exchange, the Shiksans lost a whole line of light cavalry and the tribe that guarded the stronghold in the first place.

It was one soldier lost for every three enemies incapacitated, which led to 5th Line's rise to the limelight. Eiblont praised the line's courage fiercely in his report to Claude. Berklin, however, had personally told him that the linesman was a bonehead that charged straight at the enemy without even considering whether it could be a trap. It was already incredibly lucky they didn't end up completely wiped out, yet Eiblont wanted them to be heavily rewarded.

Unfortunately, most things didn't usually go according to plan. Three days later, Claude arrived at Lanu with 1st Folk. 3rd Line helped pave the way and took out three tents of Shiksan scouts without encountering any large units like Dyavid had hoped. Instead, the Shiksans outside the city strengthened their defences the moment they noticed their arrival.

To Berklin, Dyavid, and Moriad, the only good thing that came out of the encounter with 2nd Folk was how the linesman of 5th Line had been heavily injured in battle and sent to the rear to recover. As for the tribesman that instigated the conflict in the first place, he had long perished gloriously on the battlefield.

Eiblont and Claude were well aware of the process of the light-cavalry battle. The only reason they spread 5th Line's triumph was to raise the troops' morale and confidence. Thundercrash was a light-cavalry unit, after all. If they could kill three enemies for every one of them lost in melee alone, what would they have to fear if they fought with the new rifles?

As Claude met with Eiblont at Lanu and saw Bolonik with his bandaged arm, Bloweyk and a few members of Wolfang were covered in vines and grass. They looked like bushes from a distance. They were observing the movements in the fishing town with their telescopes.

During the evening, Bloweyk and Myjack sat in their camouflaged tent to plan their operation during the night. "The enemy used the townsfolk's fishing boats and around ten near-shore transport boats to rebuild the floating bridges. Now, four-wheeled carriages can travel across it. The rate of unloading of their supplies has quickened.

"At the end of the floating bridge is a large near-shore transport vessel anchored down with four anchors. The enemy's boats usually dock near the large vessel to receive the load before sailing back to shore. The floating bridge itself has braziers every ten metres and security there is really tight. The patrol routes are only separated by half an hour each.

"The Shiksans also have a warship stopped near the large transport ship. I saw the captain of that warship getting ashore on a carriage to spend the night and only returned to his ship at nine in the morning. I wonder if it's a regular habit. The warship would only start patrolling after that. All transport vessels that approach the floating bridge would have to be checked by the officers on the warship first before being allowed access to unload their goods.

"The fishing town's defences itself don't seem nearly as tight. They have around a line defending the area. Their deployment is really orthodox. There are three trenches outside the town and a cannon platform every hundred metres. The elderly and weak of the town have been chased to a corner near the east to be confined while the youths were forced to help move the goods.

"I would suggest letting my Wolfang approach the floating bridge by diving. We'll see if we can approach the patrol warship that way and take it. We'll set the floating bridge alight if it goes well to get the defenders in town to put out the fire. That's when your Tribe 131 can attack. Trust me. We'll finish this task in a flash."

Myjack asked a few more questions, nodded when he got satisfactory answers and agreed to the plan. He then ordered his men to rest and wait for the attack at night.

At three in the morning of the 26th of the 10th month, Captain Bloweyk and Wolfang managed to commandeer Seaking's Nightingale 2. They also destroyed the floating bridge. Tribe 131 also managed to take the fishing town back after exterminating two thousand enemies and capturing four thousand. They also liberated the thousands of townsfolk there.

Chapter 466 - Thundercrash's Assault

Perhaps the floating bridge at the fishing town was the only thing the Shiksans could count on to fight Thundercrash. So long as that bridge existed, they could continue to send reinforcements and supplies nonstop. Now that the town was burnt to a crisp and the bridge was reduced to ashes, a commotion broke out at the Shiksan camp outside Lanu. They all knew that they no longer had an escape route.

The 100 thousand Shiksan soldiers were now sharks in a jar for the theatre. They had lost all the threat they posed, especially with their inexplicable high-ranking commanders that ordered an immediate retreat to Mormaly. After Claude asked a few high-ranking captives, the reasoning he got was that the Shiksans wanted to build a floating bridge at the coasts of Mormaly so that the remaining 90 thousand plus soldiers could escape alive.

Of the two garrison lines in Mormaly, one was transferred to Birkin and was fighting at the borders of the eastern mountains. The others received Claude's urgent order to defend Port Cobius in Tyrrsim. Mormaly no longer had a defending army and the Shiksans easily took the colony by sending two light-cavalry lines.

Claude could only despair on the Shiksans' behalf. If he were their commander, he would only have one choice: to retreat back to the fishing town and fell wood immediately to build floating bridges. After all, the town was much closer than Mormaly. Even after being burnt down, the town was still surrounded by hills and woods. Building a temporary floating bridge should've been possible.

But the Shiksan officers decided to retreat to a small coastal town in Mormaly before building a bridge there. It was a blind order that ignored all practicality. Ever since Thundercrash arrived at Lanu, it was no longer possible for any Shiksan infantry to leave their camp. Thundercrash's light cavalry would swoop in like the wind with the initiative they held on the battlefield.

That was especially true at night, when Thundercrash was akin to a nightmarish existence to the Shiksans. They launched attacks on their camp from various directions, using mortars to blast away at the fortifications. Many Shiksan troops were tired from resisting and running all over the place to put out the fires. Only then were they able to prevent Thundercrash from breaking through. Many Shiksan officers didn't even get a good night's sleep since coming to Lanu. Their eyes were surrounded by dark rings of fatigue.

As for Royal Cavalry, they were slaughtered so badly by Thundercrash they lost all their guts. Even during the day, they didn't leave the firing range of their own artillery. Countless mounted scouts that had been sent out of camp had immediately fallen prey to Thundercrash's ambushes. Each clear-sounding gunshot represented the fall of one of the Shiksan light cavalry.

Had Claude not taken note of the fighting spirit of the Shiksans and chose to avoid attacking the camp directly to minimise casualties, he would've long been able to break through it. Since the battles were already playing to his rhythm, he didn't really mind letting it drag on for a little longer. Once they ran out of ammunition and could no longer fight, it would be much easier to deal with without suffering too many casualties.

So, after Myjack and Bloweyk returned with the captives, Claude ordered for a few of the officers to be released to bring word back to camp about their cut-off escape route to accelerate their despair. He would also observe how they reacted to the news. If they continued to defend the camp, it would only lead to death. But leaving the camp would give Thundercrash even more chances to have a go at them.

Claude didn't think retreating to Mormaly would be their choice. Perhaps they were lulled into the illusion of safety as the town had been occupied by them. They thought it to be their territory. It could also be because they were confident they would be able to get enough supplies in Mormaly. Three days after the burning of the fishing town, the Shiksans left their camp for Mormaly.

Their ranks stretched on endlessly. The 80 plus thousand remaining Shiksans leaving camp caused quite a commotion. The remaining five light-cavalry lines served as vanguards by charging through the ambushes set by Thundercrash without regard to casualties, leaving behind thousands of corpses and horse carcasses to pave the way for the troops at the rear. After that, the cavalry turned back and defended the flank of the marching army from Thundercrash's own light-cavalry units.

When Claude heard about their retreat towards Mormaly, his jaw dropped. He was completely stupefied and couldn't figure out their reason, as it took seven days to march to Mormaly from their camp outside Lanu. Thundercrash was a light-cavalry corps, so what were they going to use to fight off the constant attacks by Thundercrash during their march?

Claude ordered his men to not stop the Shiksans from marching. Instead, he wanted what remained of Royal Cavalry to be dealt with so that attacking their rear would be far less troublesome. During the first two days, the Shiksan retreat proceeded rather orderly. They divided themselves into folks. The folk in front marched for half a day and built a simple stronghold with trenches and cannon platforms. The cavalry flanked them and the troops at the rear served as the rear guard.

It was the same on the second day. The folk that left half a day ahead built another stronghold. While that would slow their retreat down, it would be able to ensure the largest number of them would be able to survive, as was common knowledge in the armies across Freia. Additionally, the infantry marched while being flanked by their carriages to prevent surprise attacks from the enemy.

Claude observed for two days and settled on his tactics. First, he would split Thundercrash's 1st Folk and 2nd Folk, having them take turns to harass the Shiksan troops. He instructed his men to attack in tribes and only from the outskirts using mortars and light-infantry cannons to try to bait the enemy into entering their ambush zones to wipe them out. They would then use their mobility to launch an encompassing attack on the Shiksans.

Before three days passed, the Shiksans were on the brink of collapse. When Royal Cavalry still existed, the retreat proceeded as normal, since most of the harassment attacks were intercepted outside. But as their numbers dwindled to less than a line, the high-ranking Shiksan officers were no longer willing to send them to their deaths. That was when the rest of the infantry were subjected to attacks nonstop day and night.

Right before they even got a taste of soup during mealtime, a few mortars or round shot would tear through their ranks and blast away some unlucky fools. Right after they repelled the enemy, they would turn around to see their hot soup gone, either spilling onto the ground or mixed with mud and blood.

They tried to sleep during the night, but explosions sounded again. The enemy attacks were relentless and ubiquitous. They couldn't even get good sleep or warm food. It didn't take more than three days for the marching soldiers to start to wobble. Some even hoped to be shot dead the next time the light cavalry from Thundercrash came around to release them from their suffering.

On the sixth day, Claude gave the order for a full-on attack. The last of the Shiksans had given up on fighting altogether, standing on the spot blankly as they watched Thundercrash's troops ride over with their blades raised. Some who tried to resist reacted too slowly and were easily culled. When Thundercrash's soldiers yelled that anyone that discarded their guns would be spared, most of the soldiers got rid of the dead weight from their hands and collapsed sleeping. As far as they were concerned, the war was already over.

Not every soldier was like that, however. The units in the centre of the bunch were the most well rested. The elites and high-ranking officers' guards were gathered there. As they were located at the centre, they were affected the least by the ambushes. So, they were able to react much quicker. They discarded all heavy supplies and collected large numbers of workhorses and the remaining light-cavalry troops. Then, they cast the infantry away to be their shields before forging ahead for Mormaly like there was no tomorrow.

After Thundercrash's light cavalry captured most of the Shiksans, they continued their pursuit, but couldn't quite catch up. The ones who escaped to Mormaly gathered the garrison troops in every town as they continued their way to the coastal town. When they finally arrived, they were caught up to. The Shiksans had no choice but to hole up in the town of Bobia. There were only around ten thousand of them left in total.

While Bobia was right on the coast, it didn't have the terrain fit for a fishing town or a port. It was around 500 metres away from the sea itself and was located on a beautiful, brown beach. The Shiksan ships were sailing in the deep-water regions a kilometre away from shore. While the smoke signals for help from the Shiksan troops and the flags flown onshore were clearly visible, there was little the ships could actually do.

The first of Thundercrash's light-cavalry tribes had already surrounded Bobia. They were merely monitoring the Shiksans to not give them any time for constructing a floating bridge. They also had all the fishing boats near the coasts burnt down. Now, even the high-ranking officers had no chance to escape by ship.

While the Shiksans had more than ten times the number of Thundercrash's light-cavalry tribe out of town, they no longer had any will to fight after taking Bobia. The long retreat had spent most of their energy. Once they entered the town, most of the officers ate and went straight to sleep after doing nothing other than delegate patrol tasks and a security perimeter.

The next day, a line of Thundercrash troops reached Bobia. Though now rejuvenated, the high-ranking Shiksan officers knew they had no other place to escape. They looked at the Shiksan ships at sea from the walls as tears flowed down their faces. There was no sight that could be more depressing. The distance between the town and the coast measuring a few hundred metres was akin to a mountain reaching into the skies. Thundercrash's troops had set up ambushes there. The moment the Shiksans tried to head for the beach, they would be shot.

When Eiblont's 2nd Folk's two lines finally rushed to Bobia, the trapped Shiksans no longer bore any hope for escape. After two days of negotiations, the high-ranking officers got Eiblont's word to allow their families to pay a ransom for their freedom and quickly asked their men to surrender.

The Shiksan flag in Bobia was lowered while the three Shiksan warships were still in view. Then, the flags of Aueras and the theatre were raised.

The recovery of Bobia signified the extermination of the three Shiksan corps that infiltrated the theatre. It completely crushed the Shiksan momentum and strategy. However, the battles also brought the theatre serious losses up to 30 thousand, ten thousand of which were common civilians that were hurt by the enemy troops. Property damages amounted to around 20 million crowns. Lanu needed reconstruction, and the civilians of the fishing town harmed during the occupation as well as their damaged property had to be made up with pensions from the theatre.

Around 200 thousand Shiksans got ashore from the fishing town. While nearly half of the three standing corps were casualties, only around 80 thousand of them were taken captive, though, it wasn't surprising at all. Among them were 2nd Penitence, the corps formed completely of veterans, which was completely wiped out. During the attack on Lanu, they suffered over 40 thousand casualties. These veterans were also the ones that resisted the strongest during the retreat. They would rather die than be taken captive again.

Claude finally solved the riddle that had been plaguing him for a long while. After asking the surrendered Shiksan officers, he finally found out that the previous commander-in-chief, Kralio Dor Sirius, couldn't get used to life on the colony. After he finished the plan to take the fishing town, he was sent back to the kingdom for severe diarrhea. It wasn't known whether he could be healed and saved.

The high-ranking officers of the three corps that implemented that plan were ordered by Majid III to completely destroy Lanu, which was the centre of the colonies' management and headquarters of the theatre, to vent the rage he carried for losing the previous four colonial wars. Additionally, according to traditional norms of war on Freia, conquering the enemy's capital meant victory. Lanu was akin to the capital of the colonies, so the Shiksans were dead set on crushing it.

However, the theatre's victory didn't necessarily spell the end of the colonial wars. Seaking and the Alliance's navy were still circling around in their waters. Thundercrash could do nothing but remain in Mormaly and Anfiston to clean up the aftermath of the battles. They would need to restructure the garrison forces at the coasts to prevent another such incident from repeating.

Claude was so busy he couldn't even catch a breather. It was near the end of Year 593. However, there was not much worth celebrating the upcoming new year's eve. The rubble-like Lanu echoed the wounds the cruel war brought. In a letter Birkin sent, he said after the Shiksans received word of three of their standing corps being wiped out, they no longer continued to attack. Instead, they gathered their forces to defend the borders of the mountains.

Chapter 467 - Surprise Attack Planning

"I'm not in favour of taking this risk, Claude. We have the upper hand. Three of Shiks' standing corps have been eliminated, among them 1st Penitence and Royal Cavalry. The only force they have left worth mentioning is 2nd Penitence. The other three corps might just as well not exist at all for all the difference they'll make," Bolonik continued his pleas.

Skri looked at them quietly, his face a mask of worry. As for Eiblont, he demanded to take Claude's place.

At the end of the 1st month, Claude came up with a plan to strike Cape Loducus based on Birkin and the informants there's reports. He would have Thundercrash 1st Folk move by sea and strike from the sea. Bolonik jumped down his throat before he'd finished his first sentence, however.

It was too great a risk, especially if Claude was to lead the men himself as he intended to. If they were detected at sea, no matter how strong the 30 thousand men would be, there would be no victory, not even escape. Even if they were sailing in a shallow-bottomed transport a few hundred metres from the shore, the waves would dash them against the rocks or sweep them out to sea. Even if neither happened, the cold water would kill them in minutes.

Among the theatre's five heads, Bolonik and Claude had the highest rank as lieutenant-generals. Bolonik's position as acting field marshal put him in charge of administrative matters while Claude called the shots for most things field related. Of the other three major-generals, Skri was the chief logistician, and Eiblont and Birkin were Claude's aides.

Bolonik was firmly set against Claude risking himself because of this. They could not afford to let anything happen to him. When Bolonik defended Lanu, he lost nine thousand of his 13 thousand men and still couldn't completely stop them. Claude easily swept them away with his arrival, despite them being 100 thousand strong at the time.

There was simply no need for him to take such ludicrous risks. If they deployed Thundercrash in the northern mountainous coasts, even if they suffered slightly more casualties, they could easily take the camp and march on the two folks further inland. It would take longer, but they could wipe the enemy out all the same.

Claude smiled painedly.

"No. Ending the war as soon as possible is more beneficial. I can best ensure a quick end to this by leading from the front. We must do enough damage in this one strike to force Shiks to the table."

"We only need to defeat the four standing corps. Would Shiks really continue fighting after losing ten whole corps?" Eiblont asked.

"It's hard to say."

Claude walked to the wall and tapped on the markers on the map.

"Look here. The four corps are holed up. The enemy knows we have the stronger force now. They may have more men, but they aren't our match and they know it. They will not attack anytime soon.

"They must be waiting for yet more reinforcements. Shiks announced the formation of another ten corps, but I doubt that'll be all they'll raise. We've already exterminated six of the ten corps they had before this latest round of recruitment.

"After the three corps were wiped out, Seaking and the Alliance's navy patrolled our waters for a month or so. Seaking returned to Freia at the end of the year, but our informants say the Alliance's navy has docked in Cape Loducus. The sailors and marines spent new year's eve in the main supply base ashore.

"Why didn't they return to Shiks? Because the war has gotten out of their hands. They never expected things to go on for this long, but they can't back down now. They can't even protect themselves with four corps. They docked in Cape Loducus because they're afraid the four corps will surrender before their reinforcements arrive.

"Without the Alliance's ships there, we could slowly take our time and wipe out the four corps since they have nowhere to which to escape. We can even pressure the high-ranking officers to surrender like we did in Bobia. We only need to let them be ransomed back.

"With the Alliance's ships watching over the corps, however, that's not an option. The corps' officers are forced to mount a fierce resistance, as they have an escape route. No matter how many more soldiers they lose, the officers have a way to escape. That will cause our attackers unnecessary casualties.

"Whether we attack from the northern border or the eastern border, the enemy will fight and make a slow retreat until all that remained of their numbers can leave on the ships, or until more reinforcements come to continue the war. Neither of those scenarios will be good for us. So, ending this war quickly becomes our only choice."

Eiblont slapped his forehead and said, "That's right, Shiks announced the formation of those ten corps, but they didn't say they would end the war just because those corps are defeated! They can just come back with ten more as long as they have the funds!"

"It all sounds good theoretically. You want to travel by sea to strike them from the rear and remove all hope of them escaping by ship to force their surrender and decrease our losses. It's not a bad idea, but it's too risky. I suggest you don't execute this personally," Bolonik objected, though not as adamantly as before.

"Why don't I take Claude's place?" Eiblont volunteered.

Claude shook his head. "I'm not saying you're not capable, Eilon. I'm just worried those bastards won't take you seriously without me there. It would make things far worse. This attack can only be carried out by 1st Folk because they received all sorts of special-tactics training. Not to mention, 2nd Folk's losses were much higher in the last few battles. If I'm not there, Myjack, Berklin, Bloweyk and the rest will become hard to control."

While 1st Folk was easily the strongest unit in the theatre, it was also the proudest. Anyone that wasn't Claude would have trouble commanding it. While Eiblont was Thundercrash's chief strategist and was well acquainted with Myjack, Berklin, Moriad and the rest, having had more than a few drinks together, 1st Folk would only follow Claude's orders when push came to shove.

It wasn't that surprising, as the five greats of the theatre each had their respective units. Claude's was Thundercrash 1st Folk and Eiblont's was 2nd Folk. Bolonik commanded Monolith 1st Folk while Birkin commanded 2nd Folk. Skri didn't have his own unit initially, but since Sevict's assassination, his folk was split up. Skri then took two lines from that folk under his wing in logistics.

Bolonik commanded two lines to defend Lanu, one among which was Skri's keeper line from logistics. Their original purpose was to safeguard the various warehouses in the theatre, but they were mobilised to defend the frontlines in such a time of need. They were almost entirely wiped out; only 1500 or so of 5500 men were left. Skri felt incredibly pained for their loss.

This wasn't due to the five greats privatising their forces. Instead, it was a side effect left behind from the times when Miselk came to the theatre to form the five enhanced folks. Apart from Skri and his logistics units that weren't fit to serve, the five folks each reported to their respective linesman. Claude, while recommended to become a field marshal by Miselk, only had one Thundercrash folk under his command.

When the theatre formed corps, Eiblont joined Thundercrash with Monolith 3rd Folk and renamed it Thundercrash 2nd Folk. While he was chief strategist, Claude still required his permission to command 2nd Folk. They were his subordinates, after all, so he respected their command over their men.

Monolith corps, for instance, was formed from Bolonik's Monolith 1st Folk and Sevict's Monolith 2nd Folk. Back then, Birkin's Monolith 4th Folk could only be included as a reserve unit. But after Sevict was killed, Birkin became the folksman of 2nd Folk and two of the lines that used to answer to Sevict were taken over by Skri. The remainder were divided among the two corps.

They had little choice in wartime. They could only be certain their own subordinates would obey their orders without question. That was why Birkin wasn't willing to simply take over Sevict's men.

Thundercrash 1st Folk's strongest tribe, 131, was given to Claude's brother-in-law, Myjack, to command, whereas Wolfang was led by his own brother, Bloweyk. Lines 1301 to 1303 were also all assigned to Berklin, Moriad and Dyavid. Even the new linesman of 1304 was Claude's former adjutant, Anders. They were all his loyal subordinates.

As such, he had no choice but to go with 1st Folk personally on that excursion. He was worried his men wouldn't answer well to Eiblont. The worst thing he feared was they would scramble to gain merit and screw up the plans. Regretting by then would be far too late.

Bolonik was well aware of Thundercrash 1st Folk's situation. His Monolith 1st Folk was not much different, with most of his subcommanders being his personal aides. That didn't mean the five greats could become warlords of their respective units. Though, it didn't stop them from using them to give those close to them a little career boost.

For instance, Claude's brother, Bloweyk, had only served for five years and was promoted to captain. While a large reason for that was Bloweyk's own capabilities and merits he rendered on the battlefield, he wouldn't be promoted that quickly without Claude's intervention.

"This is the best chance for us to end this war," Claude said, tapping on the letters on the table which the informants sent, "In taking Cape Loducus by surprise, our true adversary would be the Alliance's navy. I'm sure you know that the fleet is rented to Shiks by Nasri and Canas. Wiping them out will intensify any suspicious involvement Shiks, Nasri and Canas have with each other.

"When the Alliance's fleet sails, there's no way we can deal with their warships. But now, they're all stopped at Cape Loducus. The marines and crew are ashore. It's the best chance for us to mount a surprise attack. If we're unlucky, we can burn their warships down. If we are, we stand to get most of their warships for ourselves. We'll be able to form our own fleet then.

"The enemy will definitely think we're going to attack from the mountains, so that's where their defences will be focused. They will never see us coming, as their fleets have control over the sea routes and we don't have our own fleet. They believe that the waters from Cape Loducus all the way to our theatre is theirs.

"As long as we can destroy the docked fleet, the four Shiksan corps can only surrender. Without the Alliance's fleet, how many more corps can Shiks send here with Seaking alone? They won't have enough manpower to send lots, but if they don't send enough, we're getting free kills. It's my firm belief that once this attack succeeds, the colonial conflict will end for good!"

"How certain are you about your chances?" Bolonik asked.

"I won't dare guarantee my success, but I see at least a seventy percent chance of this going well. Look, Shiks' logistics officers ordered large amounts of food, wheat ale, fresh meats, fruits and other luxury ingredients from the wild-bull company. They're willing to pay double the market price plus the transport costs. Our informants mocked them for going mad. Even though they lost, they still want good food.

"I think the Shiksans are just trying to increase morale as they wait for reinforcements. If this order is to be completed, they'll need more than a hundred near-shore transport ships. Our 1st Folk can hide in the cabins and head to Cape Loducus during that shipment. When we arrive, we'll attack immediately and take the Alliance's fleet before going for the main supply base!"

Chapter 468 - At Sea

It was rather dark inside the cabin. The only sources of light were the fine gaps between the boards above, through which sunlight bled through. One was only barely able to make out one's surroundings inside. Nearly three hundred people were seated in the squashed cabin. The wide cabin couldn't have felt more oppressive. Fortunately, a few air holes were opened up at the walls of the cabin before they departed. Otherwise, the stale air would've been even harder to bear.

Lieutenant-Colonel Drivick was standing at the side of the frontmost window of the cabin. The fresh air that came in from outside smelled frosty and salty like the ocean. From a distance, the monochromic brown of the sea and the dark crimson of the sky were met in the middle by an endless black horizon.

The winds and waves were rather strong that day, causing the ship to undulate quite strongly. However, it was no big deal for Drivick. He had experienced his fair share of stormy voyages. Back when the five-year war of Freia just ended, he could no longer serve in the kingdom's army, being a conscript from the colonies, so he was forcefully discharged and sent back to Anfiston.

In the next three years, he worked in the mining company his father, Weyblon, had founded, and learned some basics on developing mines as preparation for taking over the family business in the future. Back then, he often had to make sure the shipment of ingots could successfully reach Port Cobius at Tyrrsim, hence his extensive experience with sailing.

Not long after, the colonial conflict broke out. Drivick had wanted to enlist for the local garrison forces to be a warrior that resisted the Shiksan invasion, but he was stopped by his father.

Weyblon told him that it wasn't that he didn't know what kind of a mess their garrison forces were. Resisting the enemy wasn't something achievable through blind courage alone. Joining the force with that mindset would be nothing more than committing suicide. Thanks to his family's advice, Drivick called off joining the force in the end and packed up to move to safer places with his family and associates from the company.

Mid way through his move, he encountered the vanguard forces of Ranger folk. Claude was still a lieutenant-colonel and tribesman of his special independent tribe then. What Drivick found weird was how ever since his father got to know that young tribesman, he decided to return to Anfiston instead of continuing their escape. It was only after the fact that Drivick could truly appreciate the wisdom in his father's actions. Ranger folk soon won in the first and second colonial wars.

That only steeled his drive to serve in the force even further. This time around, his father didn't object and requested Claude, who had been promoted to a major-general then, to let Drivick join the newly formed Thundercrash folk. As a first lieutenant who joined after being discharged some five years ago, Drivick couldn't quite get used to military life initially. Even so, he persevered and formally became a junior officer of the kingdom.

Since the third colonial war up till the chaotic battle with the Shiksans at the northern mountains, Drivick had been quite lucky and survived. Due to his acts of bravery over the course of battles, he was promoted to lieutenant-colonel and was now tribesman in Thundercrash 1st Folk, Line 1303, Combat Tribe 123.

During the surprise attack on Cape Loducus, Drivick knew the contents of the plan, being among the ranks of the high-ranking officers. He couldn't help but marvel at Claude's sheer guts. They had to bear the gruelling seven-day voyage inside ship cabins. If the slightest flaw in their disguise was discovered by the Shiksan patrol warships, they would essentially be buried at sea. In such cold weather, there was nowhere to run from the fate of an ocean burial.

Drivick really wanted to take his pipe out for some smokes to calm his nerves -- a habit he picked up from the veterans that helped loosen the tension after battles and keep one from nodding off. But the moment he put his hand in his tobacco sack, he recalled the strict ban on smokes in the cabins. All he could do was bite on a few of the leaves, letting the bitter and spicy sensation fill his mouth.

Not long after, as he was about to doze off, he heard the sound of bamboo striking the deck above. A guard beside him pushed him to wake him before pointing up at the top. Drivick rubbed his face to refresh himself. "Is it nighttime? We can go air ourselves out, right?"

During the week-long voyage, the soldiers had to stay inside the cabins during the day. It was only during the night that they were allowed to go on deck for fresh air. In merely two days, the use of the phrase 'airing oneself out' spread throughout the ships. The soldiers thought of themselves prisoners of the ships, with the cabins as their cells.

Drivick clapped his hands and told the other troops in the cabin, "Same rules apply. Warm your hands and legs up first lest you lose control of your body when you get up on deck and fall into the sea. Nobody's going to save you in weather like this. You'll freeze to death before anyone notices, and I won't waste the lives of other warriors to save you. Quick, get moving and pay attention. Move your limbs..."

There were around 300 men in the cabin, leaving little space for warm-up exercises inside. However, Drivick's exercises didn't require that much space. The soldiers remained seated and hugged the back of their heads with both arms before kicking both legs in the air like rabbits hopping. They also almost seemed like they were riding an imaginary bicycle.

Those were borne out of necessity. During their stop on the first night, three soldiers whose legs were numb wanted to play tough to piss off the deck, only to lose balance and fall into the ocean. Two were rescued, but quickly died from the cold. One more was unfortunate enough to not even be found. Since that day, the soldiers would only be allowed to go up after they warmed up.

There were 165 near-shore transport vessels in total. It was one of the largest shallow-water fleets to come from the colonies. They stopped in a reef area at night that had a depth of no more than six metres. These ships didn't sink deeper than three metres, so all they needed to secure the ships were seven-metre-long bamboo stilts. As for the rest, they only had to nail a few planks together around the ship before dropping the anchor into the ocean.

The various units of 1st Folk were assigned their ships according to their units. Lines 1301 to 1304's ships were connected together and surrounded the centre of the fleet. The folk's direct units were put in the centremost ship that connected to the other ships with planks.

The reason for doing so was to ensure the stability of the near-shore vessels. As they weren't that deep into the water, most of the goods were placed on the deck and it gave off a sensation of imbalance. During the day, the ships wouldn't really waver no matter how strong the wind as the sails were stabilising the ships. But at night, strong winds could easily flip those ships, so connecting them together increased the overall base area and shifted the centre of gravity further into the centre, making them harder to topple. The only thing they had to pay attention to in that layout was preventing fires and pirate attacks.

The frosty air that assailed them caused them to shudder. The sailors on deck were anxiously securing their ships with the other ships. With the ships now connected, there was more space to move around.

The bearded Major Marylans wormed out of the cabin, saw Drivick and waved at him with his pipe. The two of them approached the deck of the rear transport ship -- it was the designated smoking area for the addicted sailors and troops.

Drivick and Marylans weren't the only ones taking a puff there. Many embers lit up across the many ships, making it seem like firefly season. The lights blinked in and out from time to time.

Dinner was a rather plain serving of meat sandwiched in black bread, a cup of ale, a bowl of mashed potatoes and beef and a carrot. At least, they were able to eat something warm for dinner, as opposed to breakfast and lunch. The soldiers could only eat dry rations in the morning as they couldn't leave. Some sailors on deck would bring down two buckets of warm water for them to drink to warm up. The cabin was rather cold, after all, and the straw that was placed all over still didn't stop one from shivering when in contact with the walls of the ship.

The voyage went on for two more days until they finally reached Cape Moroks. There was only a day and a half before the arrival at Cape Loducus. If they didn't stop at night, it would only take one day. However, it was rather risky to have a fleet of 165 ships sail at night. It would be too late to salvage the situation once things went wrong.

Two clear rings could be heard from above the cabin. That signalled the presence of patrol warships. Everyone was to be on alert and not make any noise as they readied themselves for combat. All air windows and holes were to be shut tight.

"Everyone, bite onto a towel. Resist any coughing or sneezing," Drivick ordered, "Close the windows and lock all the wooden trap doors. Shut the air hole as well."

Soon, the cabin was completely dark. The air started to grow stale. Only the walls of the cabin still smelled like raw seawater.

Around half an hour passed and Drivick felt the ship he was in slow down. They seemed to have pulled up the sails. He knew that the ship he was on was near the outer fringes. Fortunately, the shut windows still had really small holes, beyond which was a blurry layer of glass. Through that, one could see two Shiksan light-class patrol warships stopped around a hundred metres away as well as one class-two patrol sail warship.

It was obvious that the cannons on those ships had already been trailed on the transport ships. The moment they gave themselves away, Thundercrash 1st Folk would perish in the seas.

Drivick couldn't see that the warships were letting down seven lifeboats for the Shiksan marines to sail towards the transport fleet. Some ten minutes later, one lifeboat was close enough. A bearded Shiksan major climbed up the transport ship on a rope they let down.

"Haha, why's it you, my brother?" the nominal person in charge, Zeek, greeted with a warm hug.

The Shiksan major also seemed rather surprised. "Haha, Old Zeek, so this is your fleet?"

Zeek shook his head. "No, it's not mine. It's the wild-bull company's. If it were mine, I would be staying in my warm home beside the fireplace as I roast something delicious to go with my wine. Who would be willing to go to sea during such cold weather? Life is already short enough without all that!"

The major chuckled. "Then, why are you here?"

Zeek grimaced. "The goddess of fortune didn't look after her most devout believer, me. I actually lost three months' worth of salary in a night within the tavern! How would I dare to go home? You should've heard about my dragon of a wife, right? If she knows... she'll skin me alive and grind my bones down to fine dust. Thankfully, I got a job with the company as supervisor and don't have to stay home to get beat up..."

The Shiksan marines broke out in laughter at the wife-fearing man. The major couldn't shut his mouth either and slapped his thigh nonstop. It took him quite some effort to catch his breath. "Alright, Zeek, let's not joke around. Where's your fleet going and what are you transporting?"

"Where else? Your place, of course," Zeek muttered, before he turned to yell, "Lil' Puck! Get me the accounts book from the cabin!"

Puck was Claude disguised as one of the company's accountants. He hurriedly came over and handed a large book to Zeek. Seeing the major, he jumped and told Zeek, "Are they here to collect the goods? What are they waiting for? Go make an inventory, quick. Once you're done, we can go home sooner."

Zeek grabbed the book from him. "In your dreams. Just follow us to the spot and do your job. You can only go home after you finish making the inventory. Don't worry. Your wife's child won't be born just yet only because you're half a month late back home. Didn't the herbalist say there's still three months before her birth?"

Zeek turned around to hand the book to the major. "This is our company's accountant. His wife's pregnant and will give birth soon. This twerp didn't want to come no matter what and I had to tie him up to take him along. You really ordered too many goods this time around. I won't feel safe without this kid checking the goods properly. You know how bad I am at counting. Numbers above three digits will get me all confused. Thankfully, the boss decided to get him to help me out."

The major eyed Claude and saw him hugging his legs while shivering from the cold. The large glasses he wore was fit for the classic accountant he was playing, so the major paid him no more heed. Once he opened the book, however, he seemed quite shocked. "Zeek! Your boss must be rather capable to be able to get us so much good stuff. You even have blueberry wine produced in 76..."

Zeek chuckled and said, "Come to think of it, it's thanks to your forces from fighting your way to Lanu. The theatre was thrown into complete chaos. They no longer care about our businesses, so our boss used this chaos to get you a few extra warehouses' worth of goods, all to trade with you. Thankfully, that logistician of yours also seemed keen on it. So, we formed this large fleet to transport everything all at once. Even if the theatre forbids sailing later on, it would be pointless since what's done is done..."

"Your boss really is a sharp one. It's no wonder the wild-bull company grew so big. They even have a reputation on the western coast. Zeek, what do these three lines of red, blue, and black mean?"

"It's to differentiate the goods. The red ones are the orders your logistics department made. The blue ones are goods the officers in Cape Loducus City ordered. The black ones are goods we're going to store in the warehouses we have here."

"I see. Looks like this voyage of yours will become quite profitable," the major enviously said. He nodded to another soldier beside him. "There's no issue here. Inform the captain that they are transporting goods to our main supply base."

That soldier showed a small, red flag before flashing a green one to the warships in the distance. After a while, he reported, "Major, the captain instructed us to check the goods to ensure it's the same as the list."

The major cursed in the direction of the captain at his misfortune for encountering such a paranoid captain who loved to cause him trouble. However, he had to obey the order due to being the ship captain's inferior.

Zeek said, "It's fine. Our ships are numbered and you can see what we carry from the list here. You don't have to hop on every single ship. Just remain here and I'll sail from one ship to the next so you can check the accounts and the goods."

Drivick heard the call signal the sailors above used and felt the ship sail ever so slowly, before touching another ship lightly.

A voice could be heard saying, "Major, this ship only carries wheat ale, so is the cabin below. I'll have the deckhands help move the ale barrels aside before opening the hatch for you to see."

Sounds of ale rolling on deck could be heard before the trap door was opened up. However, the Shiksan soldier didn't seem too keen on checking. They merely looked down into the hole and said, "Major, the ship's full of wheat ale."

The matter got covered up just like that, much to Drivick's relief. If the Shiksan soldiers had come down to check, they would see that the ale barrels were empty. Pushing the barrels aside would reveal the nervous expressions of the three hundred soldiers inside.

The further back they went, the more careless the checks became. There were 165 near-shore vessels, after all. Checking every one of them was risky work in itself. The slightest misstep could lead to falling off the ship, and death. In the end, they merely gave the ships a glance and considered them checked.

The whole affair finished after two and a half hours. In the end, the major left with a carton of blueberry wine while the other soldiers left with Zeek's gifts as they set off in the lifeboats. Within three hours, the three patrol warships returned. This time around, however, they weren't going for another check. Instead, they wanted to make an order for high-quality ingredients. Zeek signed his name on the order to put in on the logistics officers' tabs to settle later.

Chapter 469 - The Grand Push

Claude looked at the three distant Shiksan patrol ships and breathed a sigh of relief. During the two-and-a-half-hour-long check, there were a number of flaws that showed up. For instance, a few sailors of some ships were rather lazy and didn't clean up the mess left by the soldiers on the deck the night before. It was suspicious upon first glance.

A few transport ships didn't have the entrances to the cabin properly camouflaged. It would be easy to think that many people were entering and leaving the cabin. Other things aside, the glossy surface of the boards was a huge flaw. Fortunately, Zeek managed to turn the attention of the soldiers and major away by treating them to a few cartons of fine wine. When the next ship approached, the check on the previous one was done.

When the three patrol ships left, Claude and Zeek immediately rebuked the careless captain and sailors. They were joking around with the lives of the 30 thousand troops in 1st Folk. If the major or the other soldiers had discovered something off, nobody would be able to escape, as the cannons on the patrol ships had already been aimed at them.

The moment one of the ships showed any flaw, there wouldn't be a point in Claude taking the Shiksan troops hostage. The three patrol ships wouldn't waste the chance to deal with big fish like the transport ships for the sake of a handful of soldiers. They would fire if needed and Claude would only be able to order the ships to sail for the shore to salvage as many as he could.

Thankfully, the check was finally over. Claude felt a heart attack building up. He ordered all ships to conduct their own checks to wipe out all flaws that could expose them before raising their sails once more. However, they didn't have any more such encounters for the next two days. Even when they ran into Shiksan ships, they merely waved a greeting before continuing on their way.

On the 28th of the 2nd month, Year 594, the fleet finally arrived after eight days of sailing at Cape Loducus.

The main supply base near the city had already been notified of the arrival of the wild-bull company's fleet, so they made space at the docks for them. However, the base was some distance away. Thankfully, they arrived at night and it suited their operation.

Zeek took Claude with him to the docks near the base to transport the luxury ingredients and some fruit wine, some among which were private gifts to the logistics officers there. A few Shiksan officers gathered at the docks, waited for the ship to dock, before getting aboard. They hugged and greeted Zeek before going to the cabin to claim their gifts in a practised manner while calling their guards to get their carriages.

Once they got their gifts, the Shiksan officers got to business with Zeek. Claude was asked to bring the accounts. Zeek also introduced him to the officers as the accountant of the company. Next came the haggling, though it wasn't for the price the goods were purchased at, but rather, the discounts the officers were going to get for their personal purchases.

Soon, they reached an agreement; they were rather satisfied with the half-off discount they got. The only thing that would suffer was their national treasury, since most of the goods were bought at double the market price. They opened a few bottles of wine to celebrate. The officers also extended a friendly offer to Claude and Zeek to party in a tavern in the city.

However, Zeek refused, saying that it could wait until they handed over the goods first and promising to treat them. It would be far better than letting the greedy sailors sneak some of the goods for themselves.

On the way back, Zeek lamented to Claude that it was a shame such deals would no longer be possible in future. Doing business with the Shiksans really netted them huge profits. They were really agreeable in their payments and were also rather trustworthy. Everyone stood to profit, save for Shiks itself. However, Thundercrash's operation that night would see to it that there would no longer be any Shiksans in the colonies of Nubissia.

Claude didn't know how to react to that. He finally understood why business with the Shiksans in Cape Loducus went so well. Not only did the informants not expose themselves, they also became practised and experienced merchants. Who wouldn't like dealing with such great customers like the Shiksans?

Around half past eight, the three Shiksan patrol ships of the Alliance's navy returned to Cape Loducus and docked where the rest of their ships were. After that, a large number of marines and officers of the navy got ashore and headed to the bright Shiksan supply base.

"The Alliance's navy has docked 78 warships here and 28 long-distance transport vessels. There are 106 of them in total. Most of the marines will be spending winter in the supply base. According to our observations, each ship will be overlooked by a tent of marines. Their shifts last a day and they switch at nine in the morning.

"The same is the case for those three patrol warships. They switch out every two days. I heard a soldier of the navy say in the tavern that their captain would draw lots to identify the three unlucky ones who would go on the next patrol shift. The only good thing about it is that the three that lost the draw would be spared from drawing the lots the next three times. The hundred plus ship captains treat it like the lottery. There are often many soldiers gathered nearby during the drawing.

"Each patrol shift lasts two days. They will have to remain at sea for one night, so it's tough work for the captains. It's said that one captain had paid 30 gold keptons to another person to take his place for the shift since his winnings that night was great. But right after he settled on the deal, his losses began to rack up and he ended up in huge debt. He never dared to pay others to take his place again.

"You really are lucky that the three patrol ships are back tonight. You can take them out all at once. However, security at the Alliance's docks are really tight and nobody is allowed to approach. There are 13 trestle bridges stretching out from the cape into the deep sea. On both sides of those bridges are the docked warships or transport vessels. They are connected to the bridges by a rope net, which is also used for boarding and disembarking.

"A tribe of naval troops handle security at the docks, but they're now cooped up with that row of wooden buildings with only a tent of guards at the lookout post near the main entrance. They send four tents to inspect the trestle bridges before and after noon, twice at night as well at ten and four in the morning respectively. There are no other activities for the rest of the day. They can't be bothered to move in such cold weather like this...

"I would suggest that you approach the Alliance's docking area from sea. The Shiksans' guard towards the sea is rather lax, probably because they're in a cape. If anyone comes for an attack, an alert from the lighthouse outside the cape will be given. They'll have enough time to react that way. It's better to use a few smaller boats to sail to the lower parts of the ships before climbing on board to commandeer them."

The one explaining the latest information to Claude was a supervisor of the wild-bull company working in the city. He was also the leader of the informants and left the city without trouble to come to Claude's ship.

"Then, we can use a few transport ships to quietly sail to that docking bay and use grappling hooks to get our troops up there to commandeer the warships and transport vessels," Berklin said.

Claude shook his head. "There's no need for us to do this. It's the 2nd month, which is the coldest time on Nubissia. A thin layer of ice will form on the docked ships. The sailors have to clean the deck and hull nonstop to prevent slipping and falling. That's why, using grappling hooks will only cause us more trouble. The slippery surface of the ship will make it hard for us to scale, even if our hooks secure themselves.

"We can easily attack directly from the docks to eliminate the naval tribe hiding within the wooden buildings before using the rope nets to climb aboard to wipe out the tents of defenders. Myjack, your Tribe 131 will be in charge of taking the docks. Lieutenant-Colonel Drivick, your Tribe 123 will help Colonel Myjack eliminate the Shiksans defenders still on board."

Myjack and Drivick slammed their fist on their chest as an affirmation, since they couldn't yell 'Yes, General!'.

On the desk was a hand-drawn map of the cape. Moriad pointed at a docking zone not far away, where pictures of several ships were also drawn. "General, what do we do about these near-shore transport vessels? Will we let them go?"

It was an alternate docking zone of the cape. The ships docked there were mostly near-shore ships belonging to the various nations with colonies at the western coast. Some of them were transport ships that just arrived, but most of the near-shore transport ships were hired by Shiks to transport their troops and supplies.

For instance, the three corps being sent to the fishing town was their doing. There were around three hundred of those ships docked there in large clusters that looked like floating islands.

Claude waved and said, "In combat, if those ships are transporting Shiksan troops and supplies, we can destroy them or confiscate them. However, they're merely docked there now without any troops or supplies on board. So, we can't touch them. Let them go. Otherwise, it'll cause trouble for our theatre.

"While we're not going to touch them, we have to prevent the Shiksans from going into these ships to hide. Lieutenant-Colonel Anders, send two tribes out from 4th Line to set up a security perimeter between the main supply base and the city to stop escaping enemies.

"We're going to attack the main Shiksan supply base, so please remember the locations of your attack well. Colonel Dyavid's 3rd Line will be attacking from the main gates. Colonel Berklin's 1st Line will attack from the left, Colonel Moriad's 2nd Line will take care of the right flank and Lieutenant-Colonel Anders' 4th Line will set up two defence lines. The rest of the troops shall be the reserve.

"Myjack's Tribe 131 and 3rd Line's Tribe 123 will deal with the troops watching the ships. Captain Bloweyk, have your Wolfang deal with the signallers and carrier eagles of the Shiksan base. Make sure to not let word spread to the three citadels at the front, because we still have to attack the strongholds of Fanbix Hill. It'll be much easier if they aren't alerted, as I'm sure you know."

Claude looked at the high-ranking officers around him. "Are there any more questions? If not, go back to your respective ships. Delegate tasks to your subordinates. You don't need me to tell you what to do next, right? Finish early and rest, but be careful not to expose ourselves at this crucial time. We will be attacking at five in the morning, so we'll need to be in position around four. Go back if you understand."

The officers silently fisted their chest before disbanding to return to their cabins with laughter and chatter. They were dressed in casual clothing and looked no different than ship captains or sailors. Zeek, on the other hand, was at the bow, loudly boasting to the two sailors about how he won all the chips in the previous game he played that netted him two thales in a single round.

A few passers-by greeted Zeek when they heard him. However, Zeek refused their invitations to gamble and drink and pointed at the transport ships behind him. He said he would join them the next day once the goods were dealt with. The interactions seemed really amicable with no sign of suspicion.

The sky turned darker and darker. Cape Loducus quieted down gradually. The supply base in the distance began to put out their lights and the chatter from the clusters of ships at the docks began to subside. A peaceful atmosphere enveloped the whole cape all the way to the base and city.

"Wipe your faces to freshen up. Drink some hot soup and stretch your limbs. Then, make sure to check all your gear and line up at the entrance. Take note that we're going to act soon. It's rather dark outside, so keep your eyes open and look closely at the comrade ahead of you."

All the ships carrying the soldiers of 1st Folk had lanterns lit up within their cabins. Thankfully, thick rugs covered the windows so that no light would leak out. One near-shore transport ship could carry around a clan of two to three hundred soldiers. At that moment, the officers were running final checks before the operation began.

One shadow after another poured out of the ships onto the docks before disappearing into the night once more. After what seemed to be a long time or a short instant, a gunshot tore through the silence of the night. Soon, a crescendo of shooting followed in the supply base and the docks, accompanied by symphonies of pained and agonised cries as well as pitiful pleading.

In the distant city and 'ship islands', more and more lights were being lit.

The skies were starting to brighten. It was just six in the morning when Claude received reports that the supply base and ships of the Alliance's navy were now in their hands. All the Shiksan soldiers on the warships were taken out. They were checking whether any of them managed to slip away on the warship.

At five in the morning on the 21st of the 2nd month, Year 594, Aueras' theatre's Thundercrash descended into enemy territory in a miraculous manoeuvre. Not only did they successfully take the base within an hour, they also captured all the ships.

On the 24th, Thundercrash 1st Folk sent three lines to conquer the Shiksan strongholds at Fanbix Hill. The troops of 4th Expedition Corps stationed atop the hill were under the impression that they were reinforcements from the rear and easily let them into their camps. Thundercrash 1st Folk took advantage of the divine miracle to mount a joint attack with 2nd Folk, who attacked from the other side. After three and a half hours of heated battle, 4th Expedition raised the white flag. Around 40 thousand of them were captured.

On the 3rd of the 3rd month, Thundercrash 1st Folk's two lines and Thundercrash 2nd Folk, as well as the two garrison lines reached the border of the eastern mountains. They mounted a fierce attack on 2nd Expedition and 1st Penitence. Shiksan morale tanked when they were attacked from the rear. 2nd Expedition quickly crumbled, with many either surrendering or running. However, 1st Penitence resisted to the bitter end, dragging out the battle longer.

But after Monolith 2nd Folk and the three garrison lines stationed to defend the eastern mountains launched their attack under Birkin's lead, 1st Penitence and 2nd Expedition were surrounded and had their supply line completely cut off. They surrendered after toughing it out for eight days.

Chapter 470 - Cleanup After the Great Battle

From the latter part of the 3rd month to the start of the 4th in Year 594, the transport ships docked at Cape Loducus returned to their respective ports. The colonies on the western coast were informed of the four remaining Shiksan corps' complete decimation, as well as the loss of the entire Alliance fleet. Even Cape Loducus was conquered. They'd allegedly just taken over the lease.

Shiks yet again became the theatre's laughing stock. Two years earlier, the king had announced the formation of ten corps and leased Cape Loducus from Fochs, swearing to continue the war until the Aueran colonies had been flattened.

Most initially thought Shiks would win, simply because Aueras was embroiled in civil war. How could they afford to divert resources or attention to the colonies? Shiks held the advantage in terms of both budget and troop numbers. Some even set up betting rings on all factors, such as when the war would end, how many colonies Aueras would lose, and so on.

Things went exactly the opposite way, however. The five corps involved in the first attack were dealt a heavy blow. The colonial forces eliminated three corps in one offensive. It made people finally take note of the true power of the colonies, hitherto hidden in obscurity. Most expected the war to still go to Shiks. They had the manpower and industrial and economic power to literally just swamp the defenders.

No matter what, Shiks had seven corps. It was enough to flatten a small kingdom on Freia. And the Aueran colonies couldn't rely on their mainland kingdom for any support. It would be nothing short of miraculous if they weathered the second wave of attacks.

After that came news of Shiks sending their troops to the fishing town. Word spread from the sailors who flocked to the western coast. Many newspapers were of the opinion that the Aueran side would suffer heavy losses at the hands of the masterful Shiksan manoeuvres.

Shiks sent three standing corps, about 100 thousand men, to encircle and attack the city of Lanu, where the headquarters of the war theatre was located. The defenders only had 13 thousand men, ten times fewer than their enemy had, which caused many to jump to the logical conclusion. Yet, the Shiksans ended up losing up to 60 thousand men after one month of bloody battles and still didn't manage to take Lanu. It was already unbelievable enough.

After that came reinforcements from Thundercrash from so far away. The commentators and strategists after the fact now thought the Shiksans' greatest mistake was not taking Dorinibla River Defence Line first to cut off the route the war theatre used to send reinforcements. The moment Thundercrash crossed the river and showed up outside the city, the Shiksans could do naught but shift to defence and hand the initiative over to the war theatre.

When the fishing town and floating bridge was burned down by Thundercrash, it marked the loss of the three Shiksan corps' escape route. After that, they committed another fatal flaw of retreating to Mormaly. That was the dot that marked the end of the three corps.

With Thundercrash being so proficient in pursuing and ambushing nonstop, the retreating Shiksan corps collapsed from sheer fatigue. Most of them ended up becoming captives of the war theatre. Even the high-ranking officers that managed to escape to the coastal town of Bobia in Mormaly could do naught but watch their warships far away at sea without being able to approach the coast. They had to surrender in the end as well.

Though the battle showed the true power possessed by the war theatre's two corps, both sides suffered just as crucial losses. The Shiksans lost three more standing corps once again while the war theatre suffered battle within its central territory. Lanu was basically reduced to rubble with a great number of civilian casualties as well as huge property damage.

When the newspapers at the western coast reported on the battle, their evaluation was that the two corps of the war theatre could rival five to six Shiksan standing corps. It was a ratio of one-to-two, or one-to-three, which was supported by the conclusion of the battle at Lanu that saw the Shiskans driven away. However, most of the publications envisioned that a period of peace between both sides would follow and that there would be a pause of at least half a year. The Shiksans had to resupply with the help of the mainland while the war theatre needed time to recover from the wounds it suffered.

As only four Shiksan corps, approximately 27 thousand people, still remained, they didn't have enough numbers to attack, though defending that number was plausible, especially with the complete fortifications set up at the border of the eastern mountains. There was no worry that the war theatre would be able to breach through those defences to take their supply base.

Apart from the war theatre's coasts being in the control of Seaking and the Alliance's navy, the war theatre had to prevent enemy troops from getting ashore. The coastlines of the war theatre were rather long and had to be defended, so they were hard pressed to gather troops to attack the Shiksans. As such, the commonly held opinion was that this colonial war would continue for much longer until either side couldn't keep up.

Who knew that before three months even passed since the Shiksans got to the fishing town, the war theatre's troops would suddenly appear at the rear of the Shiksan troops by hiding in the wild-bull company's transport ships and managing to slip past the patrol warships. They suddenly attacked the Shiksan main supply base and captured all the warships and long-distance transport vessels of the Alliance's navy.

Then, Thundercrash 1st Folk launched a sudden attack on the Shiksan defence line at Fanbix Hill, completely eliminating 3rd Expedition in the process. Then, they split their troops up for a pincer attack on 4th Expedition's camp at the border of the northern mountains with Thundercrash 2nd Folk, wiping that corps successfully as well.

Lastly, Thundercrash also launched a sudden attack on 2nd Expedition and 1st Penitence at the eastern border with the cooperation of Monolith 2nd Folk. Within ten days of heated battle, they managed to force the remnants of 1st Penitence and 2nd Expedition surrender, wiping out all Shiksan troops in Cape Loducus in one go along with the Alliance's navy.

It was a victory that was outright unbelievable. It wouldn't be far off to say that the war waged with Shiks for seven whole years had been put to an end with the war theatre's triumph. How things played out caused the jaws of the newspaper pundits at the western coast to drop so hard it sank into the core of the earth. The thought of the ten domineering standing Shiksan corps and their current pathetic state completely stupefied many.

The largest publication at the western coast 'Peak Forum Chronicles' commented that if Shiks wanted to continue the conflict, they would have to form ten new standing corps as well as a fleet. They would also have to wait for the war theatre's troops to move away from Cape Loducus after the five-year lease with Fochs ends to reestablish a lease deal with Fochs. Any sane ruler wouldn't invest the kind of wealth that would be necessary to resume a war they didn't have much hope in winning.

Most laughably, Seaking came with a corps to add to their numbers at the colonies at the end of the 4th month, only to receive word at a port they stopped to resupply at that they had lost Cape Loducus to the war theatre, with their four corps being wiped out and the Alliance's navy ships captured. It put the commander of Seaking at a complete loss as to what to do.

If they continued to sail south, they wouldn't be able to dock nor fight a naval battle with their ships full of troops and supplies. If they didn't, however, there was no other port at the western coast that would welcome them, especially with them transporting a whole corps of troops.

After all, nobody could tell for sure whether Shiks would attack to take their colonies. The moment they reached any port, they would be met with defenders on high alert and wouldn't even be allowed to approach for supplies. If they sent their transport vessels to make trades, they would be charged at a rate twice of market price.

After spending the next half month at sea, Seaking finally couldn't hold on any longer. They couldn't dock and would have to rely on buying supplies to keep themselves afloat. In the end, they decided to spend what reserves of funding they had for supplies on the return trip to bring the bad news back to the kingdom.

By then, Claude had occupied Cape Loducus for about three months. The battle took only around 20 days to start and end, but the aftermath took about two months to clean up. He had just finished bargaining around with the officials of Cape Loducus City to resign the lease on Cape Loducus for a full five years before having the troops retreat from that colony.

As they had defeated Shiks, everything in Cape Loducus became their spoils, including the lease agreement. The colony would be occupied by the war theatre and returned to Fochs once the lease period ends.

Seriously speaking, the war theatre's troops weren't really welcomed by the city folk and officials. Compared to the Shiksans, troops of the war theatre were really stingy, whether they came from Thundercrash or Monolith, and wouldn't spend much in taverns. Even the brothels set up by the city folk near the camps wouldn't have many visitors. They were also far more careful with their spending and would never spend beyond their means.

The Fochsian officials wouldn't stand to benefit much either, since the war theatre took care of its own supply line and wouldn't buy any from the city. Many of the city folk thus lost their extra source of income. The war theatre also obtained a huge stockpile of food and other supplies from the supply base which could last them a year and a half. Even when the officials wanted to buy Shiksan arms and ammunitions, the prices rose by 1.5 times. Back then, they were sold at a discount, but now they were sold at the original price without including transport costs.

The officials of the city grit their teeth and bought the Shiksan arms despite the price. When they came to ask the war theatre when they would retreat their troops, they got a nightmarish revelation from Claude: the war theatre's forces would not retreat and would stay until the end of the lease.

It was as shocking as thunder striking on a bright sunny day. If the war theatre's forces didn't leave, how long would it take before the Shiksans could come again to buy the arms they bought from them at a high price again? Claude consoled them by saying that they could sell the arms to the civilians at the western coast or the local garrisons instead. They were modern Shiksan arms, after all, so they should stand to make around 1.3 times the profit.

In the 5th month, news came that the Seaking lingered around the western coast for half a month while carrying a corps. After being unable to find a port at which they were allowed to dock, they had no choice but to sail back. Claude finally breathed a long sigh of relief. Cape Loducus would finally be firmly under their rule for the next two years.

The territory gained from the nikancha nation, both the northern mountains and eastern mountains combined, was now called the colony of Loki Mountains, being the ninth colony of the war theatre. While it covered mostly mountainous areas, it was rich in mineable resources, with there being around 17 middle-to-small-sized gold and silver mines alone and much more undiscovered deposits.

The 230 thousand Shiksan captives were transported from Cape Loducus to Loki Mountains and were used to build roads, citadels and other infrastructure. All those projects would keep them busy for the next four years at least. Claude also promised them on the war theatre's behalf that they would be given sufficient food, clothing, medical treatment and a sparse salary. They would also earn bonuses if they performed well.

In other words, the war theatre pledged to treat the captives as they would normal labourers rather than prisoners serving labour sentences. That was one of the final conditions for the surrender of 1st Penitence, which Birkin assented to.

In hindsight, the colonies had been dealt a really bad hand by the new nobility. Back then, Miselk agreed to their request to transport the 300 thousand plus Shiksan captives to them for 100 thousand immigrant households to the colonies. In the end, the Shiksan captives were harshly treated by the new nobility. When they were finally freed and reformed into the many corps, they became the most fearless and stubborn enemies the war theatre ever had to face, causing their two corps to suffer heavy losses.

This time around, Berklin was tasked with securing Cape Loducus with Monolith 2nd Folk. He would also be in charge of the development of Loki Mountains. Claude's 1st Folk would be stationed in Castle Moknad to remain alert to the movements of the nikancha nation and ensure Vebator's safety. Eiblont would return to Lanu with Thundercrash 2nd Folk to remain on standby for future deployment.

The more easygoing of the marines and sailors of the Alliance's navy Claude captured were picked out to join a tribe that would sail from Cape Loducus to Port Vebator, before going on to Port Patres under supervision of the war theatre's officers. Within the next three years, the war theatre would form their own long-distance fleet.

When Claude arrived at Port Vebator, he received an eagle message from headquarters about Borkal's overdue return...

Chapter 471 - Borkal's Experiences

The letter said Borkal hadn't returned alone, but with 48 old and run-down seafaring ships, fishing boats, and smuggling vessels of disparate sizes. The ships carried 60 thousand refugees from all over the kingdom. They had nothing but harshly rationed sawdust-and-bark bread.

Of the gift-carrying band that had set off with him, only 37 had returned. Twenty four had not made it, including men from Borkal's personal guard. Most were lost in encounters with bandits. The most dangerous time had been when 400 bandits had encircled them on a hilltop. They had to fight a bloody battle to get away.

The reason Borkal took so long was the refugees that slowed him down. It was a result of Stellin XI not having restored order to the kingdom after the civil war. Instead, he focused on following up on grudges and old debts against the subjects that took Prince Hansbach's side. As a result, the kingdom remained on very unstable footing with many of its subjects losing their homes and becoming vagabonds. For the sake of giving the refugees a chance at a new life in the colonies, Borkal spent all his budget and the money of his household.

To gather enough long-distance ships, Borkal spent three months visiting various fishing villages at the kingdom's coastlines to buy, hire and retrofit a simple fleet. They finally left for Nubissia once the refugees boarded.

However, the voyage there wasn't that easygoing either. Two long-distance fishing boats were sunk and a few hundred refugees died as a result despite best efforts to rescue them. The worst was when they encountered the Blacksail pirates, though thankfully they didn't have much to pillage, with most of them being refugees. After the pirates searched the ships, they complained a bit before letting them go and even kindheartedly offered them some food and fresh water, including some green carrots and old pumpkins.

Claude spent three days at Port Vebator. Thundercrash 1st Folk would head to Castle Moknad after getting ashore there whereas Wolfang would follow Claude back to Lanu. Thundercrash 2nd Folk, on the other hand, would remain on the ships. Five days later, the ships of the Alliance's navy would dock at Port Patres in Robisto. All warships and transport vessels would be sorted out by the theatre there before being absorbed into the theatre's own fleet.

Claude and Eiblont returned to Lanu with Wolfang and Thundercrash 2nd Folk later. Within half a year, Lanu became a large construction area once more, with scaffolding everywhere, dust gathering all over the place and irrigation routes all dug out.

"Actually, it's a good thing Lanu was reduced to rubble!" EIblont exclaimed.

"Huh?" Claude didn't quite understand what he meant.

"You might not be aware, but General Skri ran into a huge problem here while expanding Lanu. Many homeowners in the old city were unwilling to have their homes rebuilt, so proper sewage couldn't be built. In the end, General Skri was forced to move the city centre to the east of the city and build an entirely new district. The sewage systems for both sectors are completely different. With Lanu almost entirely gone now, we'd be able to rebuild it into a cohesive whole according to proper city-planning principles."

Claude nodded his agreement. Skri had been thinking of ways to revamp the old city for a long time. Many large cities allowed ghettos to form and gangs to fester due to the separation of old and new city sectors. The tight alleyways of the decrepit areas with dense populations made security an absolute plague and nightmare. While the destruction of Lanu was a great loss, it had become a blank canvas on which to draw again.

Once he reached headquarters, Claude didn't see Borkal. He asked around and found that Borkal had gone to settle his family down. He had taken all his relatives and families of his company's workers to the colonies. Bolonik gave him half a month off to help them start their new life off.

While he didn't meet him in person, Claude could still read the journals and reports Borkal wrote. He discovered from those two sources that thanks to the civil war, the kingdom mainland was suffering from huge civil discontent and a variety of other socio-economic problems, bandits being a major one among them. Not only did the local administrators not placate the populace and solve their problems, they even started taking advantage of them. All they wanted to do was to gain Stellin XI's favour to secure their official positions while avoiding the great purge going on in the kingdom right now.

In fact, Borkal and the sailors from Storm didn't have much to talk about on the way back, given their sour relationship. Sometimes, Borkal suspected they would tie him up and toss him into the sea had he travelled alone. There would be no traces left behind. They could even explain it away by saying he jumped into the sea at midnight or fell off the ship accidentally.

That was why the eighteen days spent on the voyage were rather uncomfortable for Borkal. He constantly reminded his guards to be on their guard and test every aspect of the food and drink they received before consuming it. When they finally arrived in Whitestag, Borkal was completely stupefied to find only rubble. The grand city from back then had vanished like an illusion, remaining only in his memories.

Prince Hansbach and Prince Wedrick's forces had warred at Whitestag for more than a year, leaving no more than a handful of intact buildings. Only shabby wooden huts were left in the ruins. Borkal didn't find familiar faces. Many of those he encountered ran at the sight of his military uniform.

Whitestag's officials had completely changed and they were only concerned with the ten-plus warships of Storm that had returned, as well as the specialties the naval officers brought back from the colonies. Borkal, the representative of the theatre, was given a lukewarm reception and sent off on his way with two simple carriages to carry their gifts and luggage. There was no more help offered, so Borkal had no choice but to buy some 60 workhorses with money out of his own pocket for his cohort to ride.

In the end, the carriages and workhorses made them targets of bandits on the way. They were raided seven times in that journey, the most dangerous of which saw them encircled on a small hill by some four hundred refugees who turned to banditry. Borkal said he heard with his own ears those refugees screaming for their own to charge and kill them so that they could eat the workhorses they got.

Fortunately, Borkal's band of guards were handpicked elites with excellent marksmanship. Their nonstop shooting took out a hundred of the bandits at the front before they engaged in a melee, outnumbered three to one. The moment the bandit leader was shot dead, the rest of the refugees scattered, but that battle left the guards suffering seven deaths and leaving 18 injured.

It was only when they reached Ibnist Plains, on which the royal capital lay, that the security situation turned for the better. It was far better than that of the other prefectures, though it was a given since the area within the royal capital's jurisdiction was stationed with the royal guard corps. Few bandits would dare show up there. However, the paths around Ibnist Plains were set up with various checkpoints that stopped refugees from various areas to enter the plains.

Borkal's group passed the checkpoints relatively trouble free and spent a few more days before reaching the royal capital. They were about to rest at the mining association's branch in the royal capital, though they didn't expect all they saw was a bunch of burnt rubble when they reached the address.

According to others in the know, the first prince began raiding the business sector, Haggler Haven, because he had lost and had to retreat from the royal capital. The mining association's branch wasn't spared and their employees were possibly killed by resisting and angering the soldiers. To cover for their crimes, the soldiers probably set fire to the place to erase all evidence.

However, a few members of the mining association did manage to escape. When Borkal discovered them, they were nothing more than beggars. Thanks to the fire, the bank books hidden within the branch and seals were all reduced to ash. The funds of the mining association were swallowed up by the national bank as a result, and there was no way to get it back since the bank book, the only proof of the fund even existing, was gone.

War had done business in the royal capital much disservice. The survivors of the mining association had to watch after the rubble to make sure they would be found once the branch in the colonies sent people to look for them. As a result, they relied on working odd jobs or begging to make a living and stayed in a shabby hut built atop the rubble.

Now that they finally saw a representative from the colonies, the employees of the association let their tears flow and prayed for Borkal to take them home. Borkal had little choice but to promise them and take them along on the way back.

After that, Borkal searched for a place to spend the night, only to find that prices in the royal capital were easily three times higher than right after the five-year war ended. To save on that spending, he went to the royal guard's camp in the royal capital with the intent of lodging there. However, his request was rejected by the officers of the royal guard, who said nobody was to be allowed inside the camp without the king's permission.

In the end, Borkal went to the ministry of the army and spent three days to get a registration for an audience with Stellin XI. He also managed to get a camping spot at an empty lot beside a park near the ministry. It was a temporary camp made from simple wood logs now currently inhabited by many family members of the army. Residence there was free, but food and horse feed had to be paid for themselves. The ministry wouldn't be footing the bill for them.

After settling down, Borkal went around visiting people to get a grasp on Stellin XI and the kingdom's high officials' views on the colonial theatre as well as the war with Shiks, though he failed spectacularly in that regard. Stellin XI and his ministers and advisors seemed to have completely forgotten about the existence of the colonies and the war being fought there.

When Borkal went to visit them, they were all glad to receive his gifts. But upon mention of the colonial war, they would only offer thoughts and prayers as well as other encouragement without any practical help. In the end, one associate familiar with the kingdom's internal situation told him the truth that the kingdom couldn't afford to support the theatre even if it wanted to, given the current state of affairs.

Stellin XI was even more overboard. When Borkal got his audience, the king complained about the gifts being worthless and too plain and went on to accuse the theatre of holding the kingdom in contempt for not offering tax and actual gold tributes. He suggested that their gall must've been growing because they thought the kingdom couldn't get to them because it was a continent away, and proclaimed that once he, the wise and just king, got his kingdom in order, he would reorganise the kingdom's fleet to personally sail to the colonies to teach them a lesson.

Borkal got chastised for no good reason. He hurriedly explained that the theatre was still engaged in war with Shiks in the colonies, causing the wise king that still smelled of overnight booze to suddenly realise that he wasn't aware of what was happening at all. He asked a few of his ministers and got confirmation that Borkal was speaking the truth.

Even so, Stellin XI didn't apologise for what he said and doubled down, saying he didn't care whether the theatre was at war or not and demanding for the tax they hadn't paid in the past years to be paid in full along with a late fee as punishment. Once he said that, he turned and left in frustration while asking his butler about the preparations of the ball for that night.

The audience ended just like that. Later, Borkal became a frequent visitor of the ministry of the army and met up with the officials who had a say before Stellin XI, though none of them could help him. The king was all too busy organising his balls and banquets and had no time to spare for a messenger from the colonies.

It was then when Borkal realised that the ministry of the army was no longer the powerful institution during the reign of Stellin X. Instead, it had been reduced to nothing but a symbolic institution that had little more power than to relay the king's orders to the various garrison forces across the kingdom's prefectures. They weren't even able to cobble enough funding for their own operation. One administrative lieutenant-colonel Borkal was close with told him that he hadn't gotten paid in half a year. He only remained because he could get free food during lunch for his family.

Nowadays, of the kingdom's three main corps, the royal guard corps was in Stellin XI's hands. Reddragon belonged to the king's father-in-law, Lord Militant Duke Siegfeld. Griffon, on the other hand, elected their own corpsman, Hereditary Marquis Julius Hou Hadro, and answered only to him.

The three main corps of the kingdom were showing signs of serious corruption. They got all their spending directly from the national treasury instead of having their budgets determined by a survey by the ministry of the army like before. Even arms, ammunition and supplies were handled directly by the logistics units of the respective corps.

The fall of the ministry of the army caused their budget to be delayed time and again. It was said that most of the ministry supported Prince Hansbach to be the new monarch during the civil war, with many from their ranks joining his side. The ones that remained neutral or supported Prince Wedrick were the minority, and now, they could barely fulfill the usual tasks of the ministry.

For that, Prince Wedrick hated the ministry of the army. After defeating Prince Hansbach, he even sought to disband it, but his father-in-law stopped him. It was one of the kingdom's ministries, after all, and Aueras had to keep some degree of their dignity by not completely trampling over themselves lest they ended up the laughing stock of the other nations. Currently, the ministry of the army was the least prioritised institution in Stellin XI's government whose only function was to relay letters and stamp documents.

After staying for a month or so in the royal capital without any concrete goals, Borkal finally gave up. He went to the three sister prefectures to look for his family and relatives after leaving the ministry. On the way, he did some good out of the kindness of his heart, only to attract a large following of refugees behind him.

By the time he reached Whitestag, he found that the ten plus warships of storm had been summoned to guard the waters near Ibnist Plains. Stellin XI now seemed paranoid about troops being sent ashore straight to the royal capital like one of Hansbach's manoeuvres. He wouldn't want to pack up and scoot like before, especially now that he was the proper new king of the kingdom.

Without those ships, Borkal could only search for his own. In the meantime, the number of refugees only increased. He had no choice in the end but to seek his father out to convince him to sell the business to someone else and use all the money gained from the transaction to purchase ships and food for the voyage back to the colonies with his family and all 60 thousand refugees.

Chapter 472 - Private Conversation

Claude closed Borkal's report. He was utterly speechless for a long time. He didn't think Aueras, once the hegemon of Eastern Freia, would fall so far because of a civil war. The new king was an unwise ruler and the kingdom had even more obstacles ahead of it in the future.

Eiblont slammed the desk, the report flopping onto the desk in front of him.

"I knew it would end like this... I knew it!" Eiblont muttered furiously.

Claude could only shake his head helplessly.

"Eilon, we have no choice. I know what you want to say, but the theatre has no option. Neither Prince Hansbach nor Prince Wedrick are people we should follow. We had to pledge allegiance to the most threatening one last time. It had won us the war with Shiks, so we didn't come out at a loss.

"As for how the kingdom will handle us... We can only watch and wait. News of our victory should spread all over Freia over the next three months. No doubt the ambassadors will be darting over in no time."

"Claude's right," Bolonik chimed, "If we had joined Hansbach, we would've become traitors. We had no choice but to pledge to Wedrick even though we knew he wasn't a worthy successor. We have to firm our footing while we wait for the ambassador. No matter what, we haven't let Lord Militant Miselk down. We have held onto the colonies. I know I did nothing wrong as a soldier."

After leaving headquarters, Claude turned to Masonhughes.

"Take two people and go look for Colonel Borkal. Tell him I'll be hosting a banquet at my home tomorrow to welcome him back."

When Lanu was being attacked, the high-class villa area Ferd Manor was located in was among the few areas not to be involved in the fighting, so Claude could still host his guests and friends there. But ever since his mother returned from evacuating to the mountains and saw the trash heap of a city, she was a little taken aback and began muttering about going back to the mainland to live peacefully in Whitestag.

Claude couldn't bear to tell her the truth. But after Borkal came tomorrow, his mother would find out what true peace and true suffering was.

To reward Borkal for his trip back to the mainland, Bolonik gave him a large plot of land in the centre of the rebuilt city for his family business. He also gave him an interest-free loan of 30 thousand crowns through the overseas bank to reward the generosity of him and his family for helping bring back the 60 thousand refugees from the kingdom.

At six in the evening on the next day, the carriage Claude sent to pick up Borkal and his family returned. It was the first time he met Borkal's father, the most famous merchant of Whitestag, Rublier, in many years. Borkal's wife was a woman of petite stature and they had two sons, ten years old and seven years old respectively.

Claude's mother was the happiest among them for the reunion. However, she was quite surprised to see Rublier age so much. His hair had mostly whitened and he had a bald patch in the middle of his head. He no longer looked like the spirited merchant he used to be.

During the banquet, Madam Ferd asked questions nonstop. After hearing Rublier's explanation, she was finally made aware of the kind of harm that came to Whitestag, her hometown. The whole city had been reduced to rubble. Men from ages 15 to 45 were forcefully conscripted and never returned. Rublier's business was raided clean by the soldiers and he had no choice but to escape to the prefecture of Simlock.

But with the three sisters under the first prince's control, they wouldn't be able to avoid constant taxation and expropriation no matter where they went. Despite Prince Hansbach's final retreat from Whitestag and the reclamation of the three sister prefectures, what came wasn't peace and prosperity, but rather, punishments and fines. The companies that did business with the first prince's forces were raided by the kingdom's forces on the charge of supporting a traitor faction. They would only be spared after paying loads in reparations.

Rublier had almost seemed to have forgotten how he managed to last through those years. He didn't care how much his family savings were lost, so long as his family, relatives and employees were safe. He had seen the horrible fates countless households had been subjected to for not paying up and he wouldn't wish that on those he cared for.

Fortunately, he had built up quite an extensive network in the three sisters throughout the many years of his business there, so he always managed to avoid the insidious plots and traps against him. It was around that time when Borkal finally returned. That was why he was willing to have his entire household and employees leave with Borkal and the rest to the colonies without ever returning.

Madam Ferd immediately dropped all notion of returning to the mainland. She warmly welcomed Rublier and the rest to stay within Ferd Manor before the new houses in Lanu were completed. For her, apart from her still-missing eldest son, her three other children were within the colonies and she had two grandchildren to boast of, so she wasn't really that stubborn about going back to Whitestag.

After dinner, Claude, Borkal and Rublier went to the study on the first floor. Borkal left out a lot in his reports, things which were better kept secret.

"Prince Wedrick won't last long on the throne," Borkal said on the onset, "Many nobles in the royal capital are not happy with his reign, especially the old nobility. They think him incompetent, corrupt, spineless and despotic. In time, the kingdom would be reduced to nothing. Many nobles are conspiring to overthrow him."

"How laughable. They were the ones who opposed the first prince from taking the throne in the first place because they were worried he would keep on fighting wars nonstop to bankrupt the kingdom. Now, they've managed to push Prince Wedrick to the throne and left the kingdom in shambles. Despite getting their wish, they immediately regret it and think the current king isn't fit for the throne. Which one of them would be fit, then?" Claude mocked.

Borkal shook his head. "No, Claude, you're wrong. The ones that supported the ascension of Prince Wedrick are the new nobility. The old nobility have always maintained a neutral stance, well, maybe they were a little biased towards Prince Wedrick. That's mainly because Prince Hansbach has always seen them as sworn enemies and sought to rid the old nobility's influence from the military as best he could. He was the one who ruffled their feathers. For the sake of their own interests, they had no choice but to stand against the first prince.

"But after Prince Wesrick ascended, the old nobility found that their interests were being harmed far more. The new king favoured the new nobility, as they were able to bring him wealth and pleasure to fuel his life of decadence. The old nobility, on the other hand, hopes the king can quickly calm down instead of being in a constant flux of debauchery.

"The ones who lost the most in the civil war are the new nobility. While they claim to push for free trade in the kingdom, they're only merely fighting the old nobility for influence. What they truly want is a monopoly over the kingdom's economy and trade, so they're the natural enemies of the old nobility.

"On the mainland, the old nobility have a monopoly on the military industries and have their influence spread throughout the military. The passing of some two hundred years has allowed their hands to reach deep into the various prefectures of the kingdom to tap into their wealth. The new nobility wants to break these local monopolies, but ran into obstacles nonstop.

"That's why the new territories gained after the five-year war were handed over to them. I believe the former king, Stellin X, wanted to give them a hand to raise them into a faction to counteract the old nobility. That way, the royal family can reap even more profit due to their conflicts and decrease their reliance on the old nobility.

"That's also the main reason behind the first prince's constant push to remove the old nobility's influence in the military. It's too bad Stellin X wasn't able to hold on and passed away too early. The new nobility also weren't satisfied with the small profits gained in the new territories and spurred Prince Wedrick into joining the fight for the throne, forcing the first prince to leave and take over the new territories.

"It was only after that that the new nobility realised they were suffering the consequences of their own actions. All the effort they put into developing the new territories was vaporised by the forces of the first prince. They couldn't even break even. But Prince Wedrick's father-in-law and corpsman of Reddragon, Lord Militant Siegfeld, was a member of the old nobility. So, he had no choice but to support Prince Wedrick, finally giving him a fighting chance against the first prince.

"The civil war became the true battlefield between the old nobility and the first prince's forces. Nobody expected the war to tear through the kingdom's own realm. When word came about the assassination attempt on the first prince after his retreat from Whitestag, Prince Wedrick gladly ascended to the throne, thinking that there was nobody that could challenge him for it any longer. He began to do things at his sole discretion without listening to anybody's advice and scoured the kingdom for more wealth through the new nobility.

"Do you know why the kingdom still hasn't stabilised after all this time? Claude, it's all the fault of the new nobility. What I saw during my journey and in the royal capital is proof of the new nobility's crimes. The kingdom's civil unrest, bandit and refugee problems are all caused by them.

"They were the ones that Prince Wedrick, or should I say, Stellin XI, to which our allegiance is owed, appointed to become inquisitors of his rule. The new nobility now roam the kingdom unhindered and label all civilians that supported the first prince during the civil war as traitors, whether they were forced to help or not. Even those that were forcefully conscripted faced the same fate and lost all their wealth before being sent to the labour camps. Most of the folk in the kingdom became refugees and vagrants.

"The new nobility are doing so to make up for the losses they suffered in the new territories and to sate the endless desire for wealth of Stellin XI. They also want to cut off all influence of the old nobility on the populace to prepare themselves to control the economy and trade of the kingdom completely. The old and new nobility are completely at odds with each other--"

"Are these your thoughts or observations somebody else told you about?" Claude interrupted.

"Ummm... Some of them were revealed to me in conversations with others, and others were products of my own observations. Most of it is the conclusions I've come to after seeing all I have."

Claude nodded. Borkal must've come to the conclusions himself instead of being played like a pawn by others.

"Who do you think will become king once Prince Wedrick steps down?"

"It will definitely be the fourth prince, His Highness Fredrey," Borkal replied with absolute certainty.

"Why?" Claude asked, intrigued, "Of Stellin X's five royal children, the first prince was said to be reliable, the second prince frivolous, the third princess haughty, the fourth prince cowardly and the fifth princess greedy. Now that the reliable first prince is gone and the frivolous second prince will step down soon, only the other three stand a chance. No matter how it seems, the third and fifth princesses seem to stand a much better chance. A haughty one and a greedy one will surely have more fight in them than the cowardly fourth prince."

Borkal laughed.

"The third princess is definitely out of the question. She married Marquis Ruhrheim, the new nobility's representative. The old nobility will never let Princess Adelina ascend after Prince Wedrick steps down. It wouldn't make much of a difference that way.

"Prince Fredrey, however, doesn't have that problem. His wife is the daughter of Baroness Maria, whom you've asked me to visit. Baroness Maria is married to Viscount Kartoff, the vice corpsman of the royal guard corps and lieutenant-general of the kingdom. He can be considered a member of the old nobility. The fourth prince also has a peace-loving personality and dislikes war. His ascension will definitely stabilise the kingdom's state and push for development in the prefectures and the restoration of civilian life.

"When I first visited Baroness Maria's manor, she and Viscount Kartoff came to discuss really odd topics with me. The baroness asked about how you and your sister Anna were doing, whereas Viscount Kartoff was more concerned about the might shown by Monolith and Thundercrash in the colonial wars. He wants to know about the battles in detail and also deeply apologised for being helpless to offer support to the colonies.

"But on my second visit, they held a banquet that was attended by field officers and above of the royal guard. I saw Prince Frederey there with his wife, the baroness' daughter, Princess Christie dancing in the lead.

"Viscount Kartoff introduced me to the fourth prince. The prince was filled with admiration for our theatre's constant stream of victories, but lamented at being helpless to offer us help due to his empty title. He said he would usually stay at home to write, since he didn't have much of a say before his elder brother anyway. Prince Wedrick quite disliked this little brother of his.

"When I was about to leave, the viscount really subtly hinted that a grave and abrupt change would occur in the kingdom soon, and said it was a shame our two corps were too far away. Otherwise, he would leave the fourth prince and his daughter in our care for their safety.

"I thought he was just joking at first and told him he could definitely let Prince Fredrey and Princess Christie return to the colonies with us for our protection. Viscount Kartoff merely smiled without saying anything. It's only when I suddenly recalled those words on the way back to the three sisters that I understood he wasn't really trying to hand his daughter and son-in-law to us. Instead, he's trying to gauge whether we would support Prince Fredrey in his ascension to the throne..."

Claude smiled in resignation. There was no point in asking for the theatre's approval, since there was no way they could just fly across the Tranquil Ocean. Viscount Kartoff wasn't really seeking their approval. He was only reminding the theatre that they were still part of the kingdom and hinting that they should not cause more trouble.

With Prince Hansbach's actions helping the kingdom lose both of its fleets, the kingdom had no way of establishing contact with the colonies on a large scale. Even if the theatre supported Prince Fredrey's ascension, they wouldn't be able to deploy troops on the mainland unless they got the fleet they captured from the Alliance in order first.

Chapter 473 - Blacksail and Eriksson

"Did you hear any news about Welikro in the royal capital?" Claude asked.

Welikro was among the closest friends Claude had in his childhood. He had moved to the royal capital and later joined the royal guard. They met once during the five-year war at the knighthood award ceremony. Just like Claude, Welikro was given the award for his excellent marksmanship and sniping of more than 200 enemies.

Borkal nodded, but then shook his head again. "I didn't meet Welikro, though I did hear about him. When I was at Baroness Maria's banquet, I got to know a logistics officer from the royal guard, Major Nickson. After talking for a bit, I found that he was Welikro's brother-in-law. Welikro managed to earn merit during the civil war and was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. He is now stationed at the prefecture of Limasosya.

"He got married five years ago to the second daughter of a hereditary count. As a result, he got a large manor in Limasosya. For that reason, he applied to be stationed in the prefecture. So far, he has a son and daughter and lives a blessed life. His father, Uncle Kubrik, is rather old and loves to drink, so his health isn't exactly in peak condition. He's now living in the manor as well."

"Time really flies. Back then, we were merely middle-schoolers in Whitestag, living carefree lives and doing nothing but fooling around. Yet, now we have our own children in the blink of an eye," Claude lamented as he went to the wine rack to get a bottle of fruit wine to pour for his guests. However, Rublier said he would continue drinking red tea as his age was catching up with him.

Borkal sighed as he reminisced about their happier days in Whitestag. After a solemn moment, he picked up the glass of wine Claude poured him and took a sip. He hesitated for a moment before he said, "Actually, I met Eriksson on the way back. He led the Blacksail pirates to raid our refugee ships..."

Claude looked at him and downed his glass of wine before pouring himself a second glass. "What did he say to you?"

"This... He wants a deal with the war theatre..."

Claude didn't ask what it was about. He furrowed his brow as he wracked his brains before saying, "Tell me about your meeting and conversation."

"I didn't recognise him at all at first. He looks completely different than he did and gave off a wild, domineering impression. His hair is so long that it almost reached his hips and he also has a large blade scar on his face. His eyes are sharp and he seems much tougher than before, though he's still the shortest among us four.

"When we ran into each other at sea, they sailed to us without hesitation after seeing that we have no escorts. I could only order my guards to hide in various spots of the ship so we can get the pirates' leader the moment he arrives.

"All my ship did was hang up the flag of parley. The pirates seemed rather disciplined and didn't board us after they surrounded us. Instead, they merely tried to intimidate us with their cannons and weapons raised. They tried to frighten the refugees with fierce words and expressions. Many of them broke down crying on the spot.

"Eriksson led his ship to mine. The closer he came, the more familiar he seemed. I tried calling his name out and only then did he recognise me thanks to my drastically different figure. After that, he ordered his men to look after us and sail together.

"However, he's really careful and didn't board my ship. Instead, he invited me and my father to meet him on his ship. It was a class-three long-distance warship, his current flagship, though heavily modified. The cannons on deck are decreased and replaced by two sails, stabilising the ship much more and allowing it to sail much faster.

"A few other pirates recognised us as well and were all too glad to see us. They called our names out excitedly. Though I don't really know them, my father later told me that they used to be citizens of Whitestag, sailors that used to serve on Captain Altroni's Shark of Red Sea. During Eriksson's mutiny, they took their families along to join him.

"Eriksson received us in his cabin and asked me what I wanted. I simply told him we needed some fresh meat since we only had bread for the fortnight we were at sea. I wanted meat so much I dreamt of it. He laughed and went on to ask me what that fleet of mine was about, so I told him what happened. He sighed when he heard about Whitestag's destruction before he instructed his cook to make us a sumptuous dinner.

"After our meal, he proposed to bring us to the place where his parents are living in seclusion. He was on his way to sail to meet them, after all. He said he joined Storm in the first place to search for his father. When he finally found him, he mutinied and took his mother and the families of the other sailors away to form Blacksail.

"His parents now live on an island somewhere deep in the Tranquil Ocean. There are three large islands and tens of smaller ones that form an archipelago there. The island his parents are on can support up to 30 thousand people. So far, all the families of the pirates live there. There are around six thousand of them. He also led his pirates to take over a few islands among the Nubari Islands and became one of the members of the pirates of the thousand islands.

"Every three months, he would sail to the island where their families lived once to bring them some of the goods they raided. When he offered to take the refugees along, I refused, telling him that it wasn't nearly that simple. We have around 60 thousand refugees, much more than the original inhabitants of the island. That's a dangerous demographic for an outgroup to have. Eriksson can't guarantee his ability to support feeding so many people either.

"I did give him a suggestion, however. If he needed immigrants, he could simply recruit the sailors of the kingdom who lost their jobs at the mainland and take their families to that island. Not only would he be able to increase the population of the island that way, he could ensure their loyalty. It's much better than taking our refugees in. He'll also be able to control the number of people he takes in, so he wouldn't have to worry about the sudden influx of new immigrants causing trouble for the island.

"He merely laughed and praised me for being much smarter than before. He then said he didn't necessarily have to take the refugees in and hoped that my family at least would be able to follow him. He said he wanted to found his island nation like the United Kingdom of Fochs one day, and by then he'd make me a hereditary duke. I refused him immediately, telling him that I had my duty to fulfil, and if our old relationship still meant anything to him, he should allow me to return to the war theatre.

"He merely sighed and stopped trying to ask me to come along. Since news flowed much faster around the Nubari Islands, he informed me of the news of our victory against Shiks. He also wants me to tell you he felt sorry about wronging you back then in Whitestag, since he didn't know that his father was a partner in your father's venture. He was under the impression that his father was only a hired captain and fell to a pirate attack because of your father's assignment.

"He knows quite a lot about our colonies, so I suspect he has some informants here too. He told me he knew you were one of the five greats here, so he forbade his men from raiding in your waters so as to not cause you trouble. But he had a request he wanted me to relay to you in the end.

"If our colonies can trade with his Blacksail Islands, he will guarantee that Blacksail will never go against the war theatre. We can even hire them to attack other pirates and Shiksan fleets that try to harass us in our waters. As for what we trade them, he wants cannon ammunition, some military equipment as well as food and daily supplies.

"I found it quite weird back then and asked him why he didn't have secure access to a market to trade. He immediately cursed and said there were smugglers among the Nubari Islands, but the price they offered was far too low, often being a third or a quarter of the market price.

"Most of the Blacksail pirates are Auerans, which makes it even worse for them. They always get the worst prices while trading with other nations' merchants. But if they don't rely on them, they won't be able to supply themselves, so they could only endure it and pretend to fall for the bad deal. That's why he wants me to ask whether you'd be willing to trade with them."

"So Eriksson let your fleet go and even provided you with food and fresh water?" Claude asked. Borkal immediately nodded.

Claude looked at Borkal's father, who had been sipping his tea quietly at the coach, and asked, "Uncle Rublier, what do you think about Eriksson?"

He looked up and said, "The way I see it, you few young ones have changed lots. Nowadays, you hold a high position and great reputation across the colonies and the western coast. The war theatre also bends to your word, allowing you to solve most issues with one word. Eriksson, on the other hand, changed almost as much as you have, but now he's a pirate boss while you're the kingdom's general.

"Despite being one of the five greats of the war theatre, you don't let it get to your head and consider everything properly before doing something so as to not let others get a grasp on your weakness. Eriksson, however, doesn't have that quality. He does things without much consideration. For instance, when we told him we were a fleet of refugees, his first thought was to ask us to go to his lair without considering whether it can even accommodate so many people.

"When he said he wanted to form a nation like the United Kingdom of Fochs and make Borkal a duke, I knew he had great ambition. He doesn't take the other nations seriously. Perhaps it's a result of living a life free of restrictions as a pirate. He thinks everything will go his way and nobody would foil him.

"As for the trade request, I would suggest against accepting it. He's trading to increase his power and expand the scale of Blacksail. Now, I regret letting Borkal give him the suggestion to recruit sailors from the mainland. Then again, he had to do it so that we'll be allowed to leave."

Claude looked down and slowly sipped at his fruit wine. Rublier's view on the matter was rather simple. He didn't care that Eriksson used to be a good friend of Claude and his son. He only expressed his opinions of his person alone. Naturally, his view as a merchant was definitely coloured by the bias of hating robbers and pirates who didn't work for their keep. They were completely incompatible.

However, there were a few points worth Claude's consideration. Rublier said Eriksson was an ambition-filled person who couldn't bear to be bogged down by rules or restrictions. In other words, he didn't see the arrangement between Eriksson and the war theatre working out. His bringing up of Claude's status and Eriksson's wild ambitions almost hinted that Eriksson wouldn't settle with his current position or accept Claude's orders.

Secondly, the moment Borkal suggested that Eriksson recruit more crew at the mainland, Eriksson gave up on the refugees. Obviously, he was going to follow the suggestion. Then, he went on with his grand speech about expanding Blacksail now that the kingdom was helpless to defend its coasts from them. They were free to raid as they pleased.

Thirdly, with manpower and wealth, Blacksail's expansion was inevitable. However, they would need large numbers of arms and gear, which simple raiding wouldn't get them. They also needed to ensure there were enough supplies to sustain those living in their lair, which Eriksson definitely wouldn't be able to purchase from the colonies of the western coasts. Even if he could, it wouldn't be worth transporting them so far away.

That was why their ideal trading partner was the war theatre. It was also the reason Rublier didn't want Claude to agree to that deal. They only managed to escape because of Borkal's suggestion. Not trading arms with Blacksail could also help limit the rate of their growth, and the war theatre wouldn't be considered their accomplices either.

What Rublier didn't understand, however, was that the war theatre needed time to make up for the deficits incurred during the war so that development may begin anew. That was a point Claude had taken into account. Refusing the trade with Eriksson was simple, but that would cause them to be one of Blacksail's targets.

During the colonial conflict, few pirates dared sailed to the war theatre's coasts, mainly because they were afraid of meeting their doom at the hands of the Shiksan fleets. Now that the conflict was over, the sea routes near the coasts would definitely grow more active. A trade route in a time of peace would no doubt attract all sorts of pirate factions' attention. Before the war theatre formed their own fleet, their coasts and waters were at risk of pirate attacks.

Eriksson had noticed that point and offered to deal with the other pirates. It was one of the ways he could establish his territory and force the war theatre to agree to his terms.

It seems that Uncle Rublier's right. Eriksson's ambition is huge, so there's no point in recruiting him to become the war theatre's admiral. It's too bad he is rather short sighted. Does he really think his descendants can continue his legacy of piracy?

Claude had never taken the pirates seriously, but now, he needed time. After the railway and trains were ready in the war theatre, the next step was to apply the steam engines to the ships. He would form an ironclad fleet powered by steam engines. By then, even the so-called invincible navies of the Freian nations would be no match for him, to say no more about Blacksail.

Blacksail's might was indeed formidable in the age of sail, but when the time of ironclad warships came, they would only be able to run and hide. Craftsmen and manpower could indeed construct sail-powered ships. But no pirate force would have the technological and financial capability to build ironclad vessels.

But before that could be realised, the war theatre still needed to form their own fleet using the warships of the Alliance's navy. They would have to train their navy and naval officers to set a firm foundation for the ironclad fleet as well as ensure the safety of the colonies' waters.

Claude rapped on the desk with his fingers. There were too many things to consider. Before he decided on whether to trade with Blacksail, the war theatre would still have to deal with the ambassadors from the royal capital. It had been nearly four months since Shiks' loss, so the royal capital must've received word of it by then. With the threat of war out of the way, the new nobility would be all too happy to sail to the colonies. Perhaps, in their eyes, the colonies were just a piece of juicy meat waiting to be bitten into.

Chapter 474 - Rebuke

Borkal was really busy. His half-month break had just ended and he was sent directly to Loki Mountains, the new colony, by Skri. The war theatre had decided to build a settlement near the border of the nikancha nation as a trading post for all sorts of goods to be imported and exported from there.

The end of the colonial war forced the war theatre's colonies' factories to shift to manufacturing civilian products instead. The logistics department had greatly decreased the number of orders for military goods. They also needed to find a trade route for the war theatre. That was why Skri set his eyes on the nikancha nation. As a trusted friend of the nikancha, Borkal became the obvious candidate for the job.

Rublier had wanted to found a new company in the colonies, but he was dumbfounded to find that the war theatre had no existing trading relationships. Borkal's wild-bull company only dealt with others as smugglers taking advantage of the war theatre, which was a cover for the intelligence operations he helped facilitate. So, it wouldn't be able to help his family business out much.

Even though the war theatre promised Rublier that their family business could have a share in the business dealings with the nikancha, it would take at least half a year for Borkal to reach an agreement with them as well as for the town to be built. Rublier would also have to start a few factories or workshops so that the employees of his family business would be able to settle down by producing products for him.

If Eriksson's Blacksail came to them, Claude would agree to an arms deal since he had more than enough Shiksan arms. Even after selling many to the Fochsians, there were even more gathering dust in the warehouses. Claude didn't mind selling them to Eriksson so he could use them to defend the colonies' waters and to make up for their wartime spending.

But so far, it seemed Eriksson wouldn't be coming to the war theatre to trade in the short term. Claude reasoned that he had to first return to his lair and sail back to raid the mainland once more for wealth and people before bringing them back to his lair again. It would take at least two months or more, so the war theatre had more than enough time to prepare.

After a discussion with Bolonik and Skri, Claude decided to set the trading point at the burnt-down fishing town. The Shiksans' surprising arrival caused Claude to realise that the fishing town could be developed into a deep-water docking area. However, they would need to have proper fortifications and a reliable garrison force guarding it.

It would take three days to get from Port Patres in Robisto to Lanu. The route at sea from Port Patres to the fishing town, however, only took two hours. From then on, one only had to spend half a day to travel to Lanu, which would save two whole days. The war theatre couldn't deny the kind of convenience that route afforded.

Claude planned to deal with Blacksail at that fishing town. Naturally, the wild-bull company would be the one who would undertake that on behalf of the war theatre. Once Borkal finished dealing with the nikancha, he would be put to the task of dealing with Blacksail, but should he not be back, Claude was going to have Rublier do it. The war theatre would be able to tell the might of Blacksail through the volume of trade they could handle.

The one thing that troubled Claude and Bolonik greatly was how the war theatre was still far from finding an admiral to command their fleet. It wasn't that there weren't people talented for the navy in the colonies. For instance, the captains of the smuggling ships that worked with the war theatre were fitting candidates. However, the war theatre didn't trust them enough to make them their admiral.

It was still the age of sail, which was dominated by cannon warfare. Ships either surrendered or were sunk and nearer ships engaged in boarding and melee, with the side with bigger numbers having the upper hand. As long as one knew about those two core rules of engagement and understood when to retreat or launch preemptive attacks, they would be able to make the war theatre's fleet a decent naval force.

Initially, the one who was most suited for this post was Eiblont. Bolonik couldn't exactly leave his post as acting field marshal, and Claude had to be in charge of the discipline, training and organisation of the two corps and the garrison forces. Birkin was stationed to defend Cape Loducus, and as for Skri, he wasn't fit to lead troops, being the chief logistician.

Only Eiblont, the chief strategist of Thundercrash and aide to Claude, was fit for the task. He implemented what Claude ordered, though it was a task that could be delegated to others. There was no need for Eiblont himself to do it. So, Bolonik decided to let Eiblont become the admiral of the fleet and take charge of the fleet's formation. However, that idea was met by Eiblont with strong objection.

He refused the suggestion without the slightest hesitation and said he would risk insubordination than take up that post, all because he was too afraid of water and couldn't swim. He always seemed to get seasick if the voyage was long. They might as well burn the fleet down with their own hands, since appointing Eiblont to that position would basically achieve the same results anyway.

In the end, getting a hydrophobic person with a penchant for seasickness and no ability to swim to serve as an admiral was only asking for unnecessary trouble. Not only were Bolonik and Claude worried, even Skri came over to check out the mess. However, the suggestion he offered differed from the others'. Even so, the war theatre's largest problem was they couldn't ensure their total trustworthiness and loyalty.

The captains of the smuggling ships were fierce and headstrong. They even dared to fight against more than ten people at once in bars. During a pirate encounter at sea, they would be able to remain calm and escape their clutches. But sailing a ship was a completely different matter than commanding a fleet. Fleets themselves weren't defensive in the first place. All naval fleets were formed with the aim of attacking. When encountering pirates, they didn't have to consider escaping that engagement, but rather how to eliminate the enemies with the least casualties.

It was then when Claude received a letter from Moriad from Vebator, which stated his dream since childhood was to join Fearless and become a marine. But the low ranking of his family limited him from joining a naval college. He eventually grew up to become a member of the ground forces and managed to cobble some sort of standing for himself due to various fateful events.

Now that the war theatre was trying to form its own fleet, he requested to be transferred into it, even if he was to become a probationary ship captain, all for chasing his childhood dream.

Claude read the letter with a face full of confusion. Why would he want to transfer when everything was fine and well? Nobody would believe that he really dreamt of being a ship captain. He was now a colonel of the kingdom. Had it not been for the lack of contact with the mainland, he would've been promoted to major-general already. Why in the world would he become a probationary captain? Was his head still on his shoulders?

He wrote back, and half a month later, Moriad stood before Claude. Claude asked Masonhughes to keep watch on the door and ignored the dust and grime on Moriad as he slammed the letter on his desk and asked him what was going on.

Moriad grimaced and said, "Chief, that's how it ended up. I drew the bad lot, that's all. Those of us at Vebator already heard from Colonel Borkal about the dealings with Stellin XI. Now that we've defeated Shiks, the kingdom will soon send their ambassadors here to reassert power.

"The four other generals in the war theatre apart from you wouldn't be willing to believe they would take the initiative to go against an ambassador from the royal capital. After all, since the founding of Aueras 300 years ago, there have been few precedents of local rebellions. The reputation of the Stellin royal family is quite firmly established. That's why after I discussed it with the rest, we believe we should at least control this fleet so that we, you included, will have a route to back away from. The worst thing that can happen is we'll sail in the high seas. Conquering an island and becoming a pirate isn't the worst thing that can happen.

"With the colonial conflict over, we wouldn't see any action in Thundercrash anyway. When the kingdom's ambassador comes, they would definitely declare the disbandment of our corps. It's one thing for the troops since their families are already here in the colonies with private land they can farm once they retire from the force.

"But to Berklin, I and the others, we wouldn't want to be at the mercy of the ambassadors. Since we have no way to go against them, we came up with the idea of keeping control over the fleet for ourselves and moving all loyal officers into this fleet. The moment the war theatre's leanings shift, we won't have to stay here to take the crap the ambassador throws at us."

Claude felt a little touched at his minion that thought so far ahead for his sake. However, his method was a little too crude and only knew of escaping. He remained silent for a moment and asked, "Are you certain you want to be transferred to the fleet?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, General."

Claude sighed. "How about this... I'll let you hold the position of acting admiral of the fleet. You'll be in charge of the formation of this fleet and you're free to pick your men from Thundercrash and Monolith's ranks. As for the skills you need to command a fleet, learn it from the Shiksan naval officer captives. The faster they teach you, the sooner they'll be released."

With Claude's backing, Moriad smoothly took over as acting admiral. Whether he'll become an actual admiral will depend on his performance. The war theatre gave him three months' time to finish picking the men he needed. Within half a year, he was to finish forming the fleet and patrol the seas.

After spending a few days to settle matters for the fleet, Claude returned to headquarters and picked up Borkal's report on his meeting with Stellin XI and summoned the guards that went along with Borkal back to the mainland. He had them recount their encounters with the bandits and had some others dramatise and write it into a novel to be serialised on the war theatre's newspapers before publishing a full book and distributing them to the defending forces.

Skri dutifully did what Claude had planned and soon, the colonial citizens learnt about the tragedy that was the aftermath of the civil war in the kingdom. The newspapers were selling out like crazy and the only topic for discussion in the taverns were about the flagrant words spoken by Stellin XI. The troops were moved and began to spread rumours about the ambassadors to be sent by the kingdom and began to doubt the reward they were due by participating in the colonial wars.

Bolonik was flaming mad. He burst into Claude's office waving the newspaper in hand. "What in the world are you planning?!"

Calmly, Claude explained, "I only want our citizens to see the truth and understand the tragedies that occurred in the kingdom. Only then will they understand the price we paid for the sake of their peaceful lives and appreciate our efforts."

"But... but you're airing out our dirty laundry! Reporting about the kingdom's current state and causing our citizens to criticise the kingdom for being in the wrong will soon have us pegged for treason! By the time these newspapers spread to the colonies on the western coast, our king will become a joke! It's nothing short of treasonous!" Bolonik roared.

Claude looked at him with a face full of disappointment. "I know how you think. You're too selfish. All you want is to protect your own reputation. You've never considered our citizens' sake or planned to pay the price for the sake of helping the war theatre out. All that's on your mind is the kingdom's ambassadors' arrival and handing over your power to them so take the road of least resistance, all for the sake of leaving a good name for yourself in the history books."

Wham! Claude slammed the desk with his fist and raised his voice even more. "Are you really trying to hide the truth? Can you hide what His Majesty is doing forever? In a few months, our king will become a joke among the other Freian nations even without us spreading the word! I'd rather that our citizens be in the know!

"Also, what kind of people do you think the kingdom is sending to us as ambassadors? Just consider what that hedonistic king told Borkal. You'll know that he doesn't care whether we're at war with Shiks or not. All they know is to scour us for wealth to sustain his life of luxury! Do you know how hurt the citizens will be once they find out the truth by themselves?!

"When you were surveying the troops, you told them they would receive promotions and rewards once the ambassadors come. Even though you knew that wouldn't be possible, you lied to them. Why? Because you can just ditch your post and all your troubles once the ambassadors come? What about the soldiers you lied to? The more they hope, the harsher the truth will hit them. Do you know the extent of the damage a rebellion from that blow will cause on the colonies?!

"I'm asking the newspapers to publish the report about Colonel Borkal and the others' audience with the new king because I want to prepare them mentally for that blow. I don't want them to hold out too much hope for the kingdom! That way, they'll be able to hold themselves back better once the ambassadors come without causing any unnecessary casualties. You're the acting field marshal. I hope you will think more for the sake of the colonies' citizens and war heroes instead of just worrying about your reputation!"

Initially, it was Bolonik that stormed in with anger. But he ended up being the one harshly rebuked! He was at a loss for words and returned regretful and humiliated. Bolonik had been taking Claude's suggestions on most decisions he made for the war theatre, after all. He didn't often take the helm himself, all for the sake of an easy handing in of his post to the ambassadors, after which he would no longer need to consider troublesome matters like those.

Claude, on the other hand, was more proactive and took up all the troublesome matters for himself. He implemented his plans for them in his own name. Both Skri and Claude knew that it was because Bolonik thought that the ambassador would eventually come, so he took giving up his position as an established fact. He wasn't willing to take action on minor matters, and maintained the status quo for larger matters until the day he could hand in the power.

That was why Bolonik called what Claude had done blasphemous. He was quite angered and dissatisfied to read the report on Borkal's audience with Stellin XI and was of the opinion that the war theatre would soon be destabilised. However, he didn't think Claude would be so direct with him and announce his plans right before him to the face all the while calling him a selfish coward and liar who had nothing on his mind but his own reputation.

After suffering the fierce rebuke, Bolonik no longer came to headquarters, citing being bedridden from sickness as the reason.

Chapter 475 - Ambassador's Arrival

Unlike what they all expected, the ambassadors from the kingdom still didn't come late into the 6th month. It seemed rather weird, considering that the theatre's victory was half a year ago. The kingdom didn't make any sort of reaction to that.

Bolonik, who used sickness as an excuse, could no longer continue to play coy at home. The theatre was still stable even after so much time had passed. Both the kingdom's citizens and the local forces have calmed down as well. The tragedies that occurred on the mainland were quite some ways from the colonies, after all. Stellin XI's behaviour was nothing more than talk of the streets. The colonies' citizens didn't feel the actual brunt of the consequences themselves.

As for the reaction from the two corps and the local garrisons, they grew to ignore the goings-on after an initial commotion. They had relied on their own efforts to obtain victory for the theatre without any mainland support. The troops were already used to taking orders from theatre headquarters and had almost no feelings towards the distant mainland government. After knowing about the recent scandals there, nobody held much hope for the ambassadors the kingdom was going to send.

Bolonik had to come back out from seclusion. As the acting field marshal, he had no good reason to stay home for longer than two months due to sickness. The first voyage of the new fleet at Port Patres was due to take place and he had to coordinate the officiation ceremony.

Claude didn't mind that Bolonik was back out dealing with various matters of the theatre. He gave a casual briefing about the matters over the past two months and handed over the documents concerning the matters he dealt with, reestablishing a basic functioning relationship. What Claude had to busy himself with next was the reorganisation of the forces and discipline checks. He couldn't afford to be held up by administrative matters in headquarters.

Currently, the Loki Mountains was under martial law. Not a single Aueran citizen had moved there yet. The mining association, however, was quite keen on the mineable resources there and had made many requests to develop that area, though Claude and Skri shut them down with the excuse of the place still being volatile and unfit for development. Claude was just trying to hold as many cards back as he could for the time the ambassadors of the kingdom came.

The war last year saw the forces of the theatre suffering around 20 thousand casualties. After disbanding the two reserve folks in Balingana and Cromwell and assimilating the men into Moriad's new fleet and the two garrison lines needed for Loki Mountains respectively, they still needed around ten thousand new recruits.

This was also one of the reasons behind the conflict between Claude and Bolonik. The latter thought that the war was over and the future of the two corps was no longer what they could decide. Instead, the kingdom's ambassadors would call the shots. If they received an order to disband, there would be no need to waste time and money to reorganise and restaff the units.

As a result, Bolonik surveyed the various local forces and kept spreading word that the arrival of the ambassadors would get the soldiers who participated in the war their due rewards and promotions. He also held off on Claude's request for a recruitment drive, which ultimately resulted in his outburst.

Fortunately, Bolonik excused himself and stayed home for two months after that. Claude then gave the order to recruit and reorganise in his own name before being trapped in headquarters to deal with the various administrative affairs. Now that Bolonik had 'recovered', Claude tossed all that back to him to go back to supervise his units' training.

Time passed quickly through all the busywork. The ambassadors still weren't there by the 8th month. Many things occurred during the past two months. The fleet was fully formed and made their first voyage. They made it back after some ten days without issue, which was a sign that their new admiral, Moriad, was at least qualified enough.

Liboyd's work on steam locomotives also passed the prototyping stage and went into implementation. Claude's colonial railway company finally opened up and prepared to lay down rails across the various colonies. Given the current state of the locomotive, they would be starting with light rails. The first stretch of railways would go from Port Vebator to Wickhamsburg and pass through Balingana directly to the bank of Dorinibla River.

The tobacco company managed by Alek also produced its first batch of rolled cigars. Claude cooperated with Rublier by giving him rights to distribute the cigars across the colonies. It was to return the favour he owed by giving them a firm footing in the colonies for their new life.

Lastly, Eriksson finally sent people to establish contact with Borkal, but Borkal was still busy in Loki Mountains dealing with the nikancha. Having no other choice, they sought out Rublier, who brought them to Claude. The things they wanted to purchase were mostly daily necessities in relatively small amounts to be consumed by 20 thousand people for three months.

Claude knew that Eriksson was merely testing this out. The theatre was really strict when it came to trading food. Food buyers had to be properly registered and there were also sudden checks on what the food would be used for. Eriksson's informant could only occasionally buy a few hundred catties of food without being noticed. But once that amount exceeded three thousand catties, the constables would be put on alert and the theatre would begin to restrict them.

The only way Eriksson could purchase a large amount of food was to get through Borkal or Claude. However, he had squandered his relationship with Claude after his father was attacked by pirates. He had no choice but to count on Borkal, but the deal had to have Claude's agreement first.

Claude signed the purchase list. The deal with Blacksail would be coordinated by the wild-bull company, but Rublier would have to deal with this himself to gain Eriksson's trust. The prices were also fair, but there was a 50 percent tax when it came to converting the coinage of various nations to the notes and crowns of the overseas bank. Eriksson could also trade using other goods.

During the 8th month, Eriksson's purchase list included various leathers and skins as well as some low-grade liquor. It seemed he was preparing his crew for winter. The informants of the wild-bull company saw the pirates who hurried there to make the trade and sold them a large amount of Shiksan weather clothing at a high price. They also told them they could buy some weapons if they wished.

Rublier came to Claude worriedly and told him of his unease about trading arms to the pirates. Claude merely laughed and said that the arms they were selling to the pirates were spoils obtained from the Shiksans. They were as good as trash taking up space to the theatre. Selling it to them was only to make up for their military spending. They would also be able to gauge Blacksail's forces based on the amount they bought.

During the start of the 9th month, the ambassadors finally arrived in Port Cobius. Seven of them came in total, escorted by seven warships of the reformed Storm and a marine tribe. Those seven warships were part of the same ones that escaped to Port Cobius during the civil war.

There should've been eight warships initially, but one of them had been sunk by Blacksail. The reason the ambassadors were so late was the rampant attack on the kingdom's coastlines by Blacksail. All the ports, coastal towns and villages were targets for their raiding.

Fortunately, they didn't stain their hands full with blood this time around and instead recruited ship crew, work smiths and refugees and cleared up some rich locals' houses. A few local tax officials were caught and hung at prominent spots like town gates and tall trees, which earned Blacksail a rather good reputation among the citizens. Some even sought them out to join them.

Since the royal capital was informed of the colonies' victory against Shiks, it became a place of celebration. To the old nobility, it was the sole piece of news in the recent years they could be proud of. The end of the war meant the war-torn mainland could finally recover from their wounds thanks to nonstop resources from the colonies. The economy would once more recover.

As for the new nobility, they had squeezed the mainland almost dry. The colonies now represented a really attractive pot of gold for them. Intercontinental trade would cause all sorts of specialties to flow in, which they could then resell to other Freian nations. It would mean countless profits for them should they be able to gain control over trade.

As for Stellin XI, he was glad he would have yet another source of wealth to scour. He had complained a few times about the lowered quality of escorts during those banquets. His chief butler, however, told him they were the best they could find in the royal capital and also wisely warned him to save money or they would run out soon enough.

After Stellin XI defeated Prince Hansbach, he announced three new tax laws which would fill his personal coffers instead of the national treasury.

During a number of court sessions, he even announced that the citizens were taxed too less, so rich citizens should take the initiative to donate half their wealth to repay the kingdom for protecting them during the war to help the kingdom out of its current state.

Whether those were true or not was irrelevant, since they were rumours on the street among the folk. As far as they were concerned, their new king was nothing but a fool of a ruler. Even the old nobility didn't want to humour this new king. Only the new nobility hobbled around him and protected the king that represented their influence like a pack of rabid dogs.

Once they got the confirmation of the war's end, there was a heated argument in court for a month. Nobility old and new tore each other out about which ambassadors to send without relenting. Those who moved fast even picked candidates for viceroys and high-commissioners for the king to pick.

As for what to do about the theatre, that was the only thing the two noble factions could agree on. The theatre's mandate to govern the colonies had to be reclaimed by the kingdom for the old system of viceroys and high-commissioners to be restored. As for Thundercrash and Monolith, they were to be transferred to local defence forces and split up among the new administrators. The colonies no longer needed to maintain those two strong corps.

As for the officers of those two corps, the benevolent king would forgive the crimes of the troops on account of their contributions and allow them an honourable discharge from the forces following a demotion. They would spend the rest of their lives farming in the colonies without being able to return to the mainland.

The court continued their squabble for half a month more and finally came up with a proposal for the king to sign off on only for some to realise they didn't have a fleet capable of achieving such a feat. The plan to send a folk to the colonies to take over power was scrapped and their two months of squabbling went to waste.

Thankfully there were still some officials who had sound minds on their shoulders that gave Stellin XI a solution. Since the theatre captured the Alliance's fleet, the kingdom could just send a small number of people to the colonies to get that fleet in order and transport the goods from the colonies back. They could simply send naval officers they could trust to organise the fleet.

That way, the kingdom would once more have a powerful navy to protect their transport fleets that came back from the colonies nonstop with wealth and treasure. They couldn't be bothered about the livelihoods of the sailors hired in the colonies. They could simply relieve them from their positions without spending a single penny after they sailed back to the kingdom. Perhaps putting them in labour camps would be a good idea to get the kingdom some free manpower.

Stellin XI had long been feeling frustrated about getting money from the colonies to fill his dwindling coffers thanks to the rising spending, so he couldn't bear the inefficiency of the court in solving the issue.

As a result, the wise king himself chastised his ministers in court before anointing two representatives from old nobility and five from new nobility to work on taking over the colonies. He would deal with the matter of viceroy and high-commissioners later.

For the sake of the money, he even took a step further to delegate eight warships from the 23 he had as a lifeline for the ambassadors. It would also form the basis of the Alliance's captured fleet.

Before the ambassadors departed, the king once more stressed that the theatre was to be punished for ten times the tax they owed for their disrespect and disregard.

The colonies were still the sparsely populated and undeveloped lands in the eyes of those in power on the mainland, only fit for producing materials for the kingdom. Perhaps they fared even worse after the war with Shiks. So they didn't really care about the king's greedy demands. It wasn't like the livelihoods of the immigrants there mattered to them.

But when the ambassadors set sail, they ran into one of the many Blacksail raids. The eight warships were chased nonstop and one was even sunk, so they had no choice but to return to Storm-controlled waters. They were greeted by Stellin XI's horrible scolding upon return.

After waiting for two long months, the raids finally ceased when the pirates returned to their lair happy and full of loot. The ambassadors then hurried once more to the colonies.

Chapter 476 - Piglet Capture Conflict

"This place looks rather prosperous..." Baron Fegri praised as he looked into the distance. The three other ambassadors with him in the carriage, on the other hand, could hear the hint of greed and desire to possess in his voice.

"Haha, Tyrrsim has never been involved in the war before. Or, perhaps the theatre is governing the place rather well. The cities here are indeed prosperous. A few years ago, this was just a port for intercontinental trade. It seems like ceasing trade with the colonies for a few years didn't affect Port Cobius much." Viscount Anklink also sounded rather satisfied with the place.

The four ambassadors seated in the carriage were members of the new nobility and Stellin XI's trusted aides. Not only must they not let their liege down by scouring wealth for his sake, they also carried the responsibility of expanding the new nobility's influence in the colonies.

Had it not been for the fact that they didn't have any long-distance ships, the six viceroys and high-commissioners would've loved to come along with the ambassadors. They were also all too happy to join the new nobility's faction, but they would have to wait for the next trip after the ambassadors returned to the kingdom first before they could take up their posts in the colonies. Without escort ships, a voyage to Nubissia was really dangerous.

"It's not that Tyrrsim wasn't involved in any conflict before," Viscount Olibut darkly remarked, "If you read the report the theatre sent to the ministry of the army, you'll know that when Storm from Whitestag turned traitor and joined Prince Hansbach, intercontinental trade was cut off.

"Tyrrsim, Aduras and Mormaly's viceroys and high-commissioners were going to side with the first prince as well and even took the acting field marshal, General Bolonik, prisoner when he was there to negotiate. However, the theatre reacted really quickly and immediately put an end to the rebellion. The three colonies then fell under their jurisdiction."

"You mean to say..." Baron Fegri and Viscount Anklink had a look of ecstasy on their faces.

Viscount Olibut nodded. "I brought a copy of the report with me. It stated that the theatre only punished the viceroys and high-commissioners without dealing with the others involved in the rebellion. This time around, we've come as ambassadors to look into the rebels that sided with the first prince and to punish them. So, after we take over in the theatre, we can start investigating the traitors that are hiding among the populace..."

"Hehe... I was wondering whether tax was collected before they rebelled... Did the immigrants of those three colonies escape taxation?" Viscount Anklink smiled sinisterly.

However, Olibut and Fegri weren't surprised he would ask that. It was a basic technique they used back in the mainland. Whether the locals of the prefectures were conscripted or taxed by the first prince, they were all traitors in the eyes of these 'debt-seeking' ambassadors. They went on a purge of those that had allegedly supported the first prince. Many a family was destroyed, unless they could satisfy the endless depths of the debt seekers' greed by offering up enough wealth or heirlooms.

"That wasn't stated in the report," Olibut honestly said, "But there are many ways we can use to get ahold of their weaknesses. All we need to do is to check the taxation logs of the colonies. As long as they were taxed once during the rebellion period, we'll have reason enough to label them traitors."

"I think you're too optimistic too fast," Count Dawanil said, turning away from the carriage window, "Did you not notice the odd attitudes of the local officials over the past few days? They don't seem to be willing to mingle with us on a personal basis and only interact in an official capacity. Our living quarters, food and carriages are standardised, not better or worse. It's completely different from how the local officials in the kingdom's prefecture spoil us.

"Also, did you notice the looks of those people from outside the carriage? I seem to think they're not afraid of us ambassadors. Instead, it's as if they hate everything about our arrival here. When a few soldiers from the naval ground forces in my cohort took a few apples from a roadside store without paying, the seller didn't kneel and beg, but rather yelled at them and even wanted to charge at them and fight. He was only stopped by the others around him. I really wonder if a normal fruit hawker wouldn't fear our troops' rifles."

"I think it's easy to explain what you saw," Olibut said after some thought, "We've seen the standard reception procedures of the theatre. They're really detailed and were perhaps drafted to prevent the local officials from overspending to bribe others to do them favours and getting the administration to foot the bill. Without extra chances to make money, the officials have nothing else but their jobs to do. Just like us, if we didn't get a chance to pocket some wealth for ourselves, we wouldn't have bothered going on a mission like this that needs us to offend others.

"Additionally, we're in the colonies. The officials here are under the theatre's direct authority and aren't aware we're here to take control of the administration. They have no need to treat us preferentially. As far as they are concerned, their jobs are over once they send us to Lanu. I believe once we take control and come back, these officials will definitely service us like they do their own parents. We'd even find their wives or daughters obediently bathed and sent to warm our beds...

"As for that fruit hawker, what else can I say? He probably has a screw loose and is nothing more but a ruffian. When we start looking into the traitors, we'll definitely come here again. By then, he would definitely kneel and beg us to not label him a traitor, to say nothing more about offering us fruit. We're merely guests to them right now, so they don't fear us."

Olibut's reasoning earned him the praise of the other three in the carriage. It was the third day since their arrival in Port Cobius. The seven ambassadors had rested for two days after their arrival before requesting the local officials to prepare carriages and send them to Lanu. The officials who saw them as unlucky stars couldn't wait to send them off and quickly got the carriages ready for the ambassadors and their tribe of marine ground forces to depart.

After leaving Port Cobius, the roads on either side were filled with nothing but farmland and pastures. Soon, a farmstead with a bunch of piglets around five or six months old beyond a fence entered the sights of those ambassadors. They immediately called for the carriage to stop.

"Send some men to capture all the piglets from that farmstead. The lords want to have honeyed pork for dinner." The aides of the ambassadors were talented with regards to knowing their masters' tastes. One of the butlers gave the order to the soldiers to capture the piglets.

The tribe of marine ground forces was formed rather recently and weren't originally part of Storm's members. After the ten or so warships from Storm returned to the mainland, they were assigned to the waters near Ibnist Plains to defend against attacks from the sea that would catch him off guard. He also gave those sailors a few long-distance ships to form a small fleet.

Usually, a proper fleet had four to five flotillas, which each had around 20 long-distance warships or transport ships as well as a tribe of marine ground forces. A complete fleet would basically have a hundred warships and transport ships and a line of marines. They would also need a deep-water port as a base for their ships to be maintained and their officers to rest ashore.

Of Aueras' two fleets, Fearless was eliminated by the traitorous first prince using Seaking and the Alliance's navy. Storm, on the other hand, defected to his side and all that was left of them were the 20-odd transport and warships. There was no longer a need for a large port, so they made their base at the coastal area of Ibnist Plains. The current tribe of marines were local ruffians, veterans and sailors that were recruited.

The three years of civil war in the kingdom had worn down the pool of fitting soldier candidates considerably. Even if there were any, the three main corps of the kingdom controlled them tightly. It was already quite decent for their flotilla to be able to cobble together a tribe of soldiers. Due to the limited budget, they didn't enforce strict training or discipline. These troops were the kind that leapt at cheap opportunities but crumbled the moment they were actually deployed in real battle. They were all bark and no bite.

The ambassadors only let them serve as their escorts for a domineering effect. They piggybacked on the namesake of the ambassadors and often didn't pay for the meals or services they got. Thankfully, the amount they owed wasn't that expensive, and they didn't dare to go overboard and cause trouble for the ambassadors with the colonial constables in the area.

Yet, the ambassadors want to eat honeyed pork for dinner right after departing for their destination. The men scrambled to be first and got off their carriages or mounts before swarming to the fence and tearing a hole to squirm through. There were some that went for the piglets, but others that dashed towards the house within the farmstead to get themselves some goods.

After that, gunshots rang out. Soon, four to five soldiers discarded their weapons and armour as they ran back, crying and dispirited. "Murder! Murder!"

A tribe of marine ground combat troops usually numbered a thousand men, but this new tribe only had around 700 due to budget issues. The officials of Port Cobius got them 70 carriages and around 200 workhorses, which should be enough for them to go on their way with extra mounts for cavalry escorts. The seven ambassadors and the officers of the tribe naturally took the newer carriages for themselves.

Only around thirty men had followed through with the order to catch piglets. The rest relieved their bladders at the roadside before sitting down to watch the show. But before they managed to catch nearly enough piglets, gunshots rang out from the farmstead. Six fierce-looking people came out from behind the building. The frontmost one was a burly man brandishing a large sickle. Four other middle-aged men behind him with pitchforks, carrying poles, iron sticks came along. There was also an old man in his sixties carrying a rifle at the very back, still reloading.

The one with the sickle saw another soldier holding a pig in his arms and didn't hesitate to slam the fork into the soldier's head. The soldier dropped the pig and ran frantically away in pain as his head bled away. The other four middle-aged men didn't hesitate either and went around beating the soldiers like mad to the point that they cried out for their parents as they ducked and ran.

The ambassadors were furious. How dare filthy commoners fight against the kingdom's soldiers? The people in the farmstead had to be traitors! An order was given for the traitors to be captured and killed without exception.

The people from the farm saw that the soldiers' comrades were on the road and retreated behind the building. They picked up the guns the soldiers dropped from behind the cover of the building and began to face off against the troops. A smoke signal was also rising from the farmstead as the alarm bells rang.

A clan of marines had been sent to attack the farmstead, but after the first was beaten to death and the second was beaten to the ground crying, the rest no longer dared to rush in and fired randomly at the building beyond the fence. The volley achieved nothing but make some ten holes on the walls of the farm building.

Olibut had surveyed Reddragon before during the civil war. Among the ambassadors, he was the only one among the five new nobles who had some military knowledge. The other two were representatives from two old noble families. He angrily motioned at and ordered the troops, "Send another clan and charge in! They only have a few muskets and can't kill that many of you. Send another band to the back of the building! Don't let these traitors escape!"

The naval officers dallied and hesitated to obey Olibut's orders, choosing to instead blow their whistles to call for a retreat. Olibut was so mad he wanted to spit blood. "How dare you go against my orders?!"

One of the officers pointed at their surroundings and said, "Lord Viscount, you might want to look at our surroundings first."

Olibut turned back and was stupefied. Before they even noticed, black figures showed up on the road all around them and surrounded their convoy. Even more terrifying was the fact that they all had muskets aimed at them with their slow matches lit.

What in the world was going on? How could mere citizens of the colonies own so many muskets? What were they going to do after surrounding them?

A horn signal could be heard further away. A tent of four rows of garrison troops dressed in grey-black uniforms ran over in neat formation. A few officers rode ahead and asked, "Who sent the alert signal? Where did these bandits come from?"

The ambassadors were overjoyed. They were finally saved. Just as they were about to announce their identities to have the men around them captured, the people in the farmstead yelled and reported to the officer as they pointed at the marines. The officer's expression darkened before he waved for his troops to surround the rest of the marines.

"How dare you disrespect us so?! We are ambassadors from the kingdom!" a few of them yelled.

"Ambassadors?! Ptooey!" A colonel with a shoulder mark with three silver moons spat at them. "We've received ambassadors from the kingdom a few times before, but not a single one has ever trespassed into farms like robbers! You call yourselves ambassadors? Show proof, or we'll charge you as bandits for impersonating ambassadors and have you executed on the spot!"

Proving their status was no trouble. They only had to take out the order signed by Stellin XI. Just as Viscount Anklink was about to go to the carriage to get the order, Dawanil grabbed his arm and hissed, "Are you crazy? If the orders are leaked, it's over for us!"

The ambassadors only just recalled what their king had planned for the five greats and the officers of the two corps. Having them leaked would immediately result in their deaths. Only after announcing them at headquarters with witnesses could that be made an established fact. By then, they would've properly taken over the theatre's jurisdiction and wouldn't have to worry about any changes. They couldn't show the order no matter what.

"Apologies, His Majesty's orders can only be unveiled before the field marshal. We can't show them to you," Fegri said as he went over to greet the officers with a smile. "We are indeed the kingdom's ambassadors. Look at those carriages and the passports the local officials gave us. We are not bandits trying to impersonate ambassadors."

The colonel looked at the documents and ordered, "Disarm all of them and give thirty canes to all who entered the farmstead. They have tainted the reputation of the kingdom's soldiers! Anyone that resists will be shot on the spot!"

Before the fierce officers of the garrison, the marines could only obediently hand their weapons in and gather the thirty-odd troops that went pig hunting on their own accord, before watching them stripped and caned at the roadside.

"There are two others we killed and one we hurt in the farmstead," one middle-aged man said.

"They are your spoils. Do with them as you please. For the injured one, heal him up. He'll serve as a labourer in your farmstead for the next ten years. Just make sure to have him registered. If he can't be saved, feel free to do whatever you want with the corpse. Feed it to the dogs if you want," the colonel nonchalantly said, before looking around and instructing, "All of you, disband. You did well to respond. We will escort them away to the border later and make sure they will no longer disturb the peace."

Chapter 477 - Shock at the Banquet

It was the ultimate humiliation! The ambassadors had never suffered such a slight in their entire lives. Not only were the tribe of marines that were supposed to protect them entirely captured, the garrison line even sent a tribe of cavalry to ride along both sides of their carriages. On paper, they were protecting them, but it could also be construed as escorting prisoners. They were ambassadors sent by the king, after all, not prisoners that had to be kept an eye on.

However, they had no choice but to play nice, seeing as they were not on home ground. The only thing they could take comfort in was the fact that the colonel of the garrison line travelled with them instead of letting some low-ranking officer deal with them. At least, they weren't being looked down upon.

When the four nobles from the new nobility gave the order to capture piglets, they only wanted to roast some for food. They weren't trying to cause an incident at all. Back on the mainland, they were spoiled and waited upon no matter where they went. Their whims were always catered to and their orders were absolute.

The piglets they saw from the carriage windows were cute and lively. However, one of them brought up honeyed pork, a delicacy served in the court. The areas they scoured in the mainland were mostly desolate and few farmsteads still ran normally. So, they hadn't tasted honeyed pork for a really long time.

And so, somebody suggested for a few piglets to be captured so that they could finally relish in that delicacy once more. They gave the order without much thought and were also used to not paying for anything back on the mainland. Whenever they saw something they liked, all they had to do was point a finger and somebody would serve it up to them.

So, they had forgotten they were in the colonies as the kingdom's ambassadors and did the same thing out of habit. Had they been in the mainland's prefectures, the farmstead owners would've knelt and begged for the troops to not take everything away from their family.

But here in the colonies, the farm owner not only shot the marines that attempted to rob them, they drove them away in a melee before getting into a firefight. They even lit a smoke signal to get the other citizens in the area to their aid, causing a huge commotion to brew from the small desire to eat some pork. Now, they were even being escorted by a large force to the border.

They had lost all the face they could. Fortunately, they were in the colonies. Had that happened on the mainland, these ambassadors would immediately be the butt of the jokes of the nobles. However, they had no choice but to keep their feelings of revenge to themselves and force a smile to get in with the good graces of the colonel to try to get a measure on the real situation of the theatre.

Then again, it was quite laughable with how the ambassadors were secretly cursing the naval officers of Storm for being fools and idiots. They had managed to escape to Port Cobius for nearly three years and didn't do much apart from escorting merchant vessels for some pocket change and spending their money at taverns at the docks. They didn't get a grasp on the changes in the colonies at all. Most of the things they heard of were from rumours or discarded newspapers they found in taverns.

The ambassadors had tried to ask them something about the colonies during their voyage, but the officers only replied with 'perhaps', 'or' or 'should'. They were always uncertain about whatever they reported, since they got it all from taverns. Who could be sure whether they were absolutely true?

As those officers had no basic understanding of the colonies, the ambassadors didn't manage to form any concrete impression about it at all, which resulted in their embarrassing debacle. Thankfully, they managed to get some information out of the colonel due to their efforts.

For instance, they were told that the defence cooperative effort was a policy designed to maintain local security. Basically, any person in trouble would have reinforcements from all other directions. That was to prevent the farmsteads from being attacked by outside forces.

When Shiks' three corps surrounded Lanu last year, Royal Cavalry sent two light-cavalry lines to swarm the whole of Mormaly. Mormaly's garrison line had been transferred to defend Port Cobius back then, allowing the colony to easily be taken by the Shiksans.

Right after, the Shiksans sent out many light-cavalry tents to raid the farmsteads and pastures, causing more than two thousand innocent deaths. Had this defence arrangement been in place back then, the Shiksans wouldn't have been able to gain much by splitting into tents. Instead, they might lose their men for good instead.

Ever since then, the theatre instituted a united defensive arrangement in the various colonies. Not only could it increase security, it could also work against sudden invasions the theatre wasn't prepared for.

Soon, they arrived at the border between Tyrrsim and Mormaly. The colonel passed the ambassadors' convoy over to the tribe of light cavalry from Mormaly's garrison line before going on his way. This came as yet another act of humiliation to the ambassadors, who felt like they were being handed around like prisoners.

Seven days later, the ambassadors reached the border of Anfiston. This time around, they were treated much better, given that their escort was a light-cavalry line from Thundercrash 2nd Folk, which was more befitting for their status.

After getting a briefing from the tribe of Mormaly garrison troops, the linesman of 2nd Folk frustratedly returned the muskets to the marines, who were much more obedient than before, and allowed them to arm up again so that their dignity as kingdom soldiers wouldn't be besmirched during the reception ceremony.

Two days later, they finally reached the outskirts of Lanu. The acting field marshal, Bolonik, as well as Skri were waiting to receive them.

There were celebratory drums and colourful flag decorations. Monolith 1st Folk 1st Line's logistics troops were dressed in neat and dashing uniforms and armed with polished rifles. They marched on both flanks of the ambassadors' convoy as a welcome parade.

A red carpet two metres wide was rolled between the two square formations of soldiers. On both sides of the carpet were citizens of Lanu, who had gathered to witness the fanfare. The local officials brought their beautifully dressed female family members and wore bright smiles, standing in front of the crowd and being the first to greet the ambassadors.

Six luxurious carriages stopped not far away from the carpet. A few young soldiers ran over with a roll of red carpet before unfurling them beside the carriages to connect it with the red-carpet walkway. The colonel escorting the ambassadors dismounted and ran to Bolonik, saluted, before announcing the completion of his mission.

The ambassadors watched the goings-on outside from the windows of their carriages and almost couldn't contain their excitement. They immediately decided to carry out the first plan they had agreed upon on the way there to announce the orders of the king immediately to get the five generals to resign. That way, they would immediately be able to take over. All the troubles they suffered on the way there would slowly be paid for by them in the days to come.

As for dissolving the theatre, disbanding the two corps and taking the Alliance's fleet away, they could slowly deal with that at a later date. Their priority now was to announce the taking of power before the public to make it an established fact. By then, it would be too late for anyone to stop them.

"I knew that not a single local official would dare to go against the king's own orders. It has been so in the past three centuries, even in the distant colonies. But we still have to stay calm. We'll have time to celebrate after we make the announcement. The days ahead will be long. We don't have to rush," Olibut reminded the three others.

"Understood. After we announce His Majesty's orders, we'll have to take the five generals captive and stop them from going anywhere. We'll imprison them and keep an eye on them for a while and tell them we need time to deal with the various matters of the handover. On the way here, the soldiers told me the five generals here have a really high reputation among the populace. They deal with matters justly and also pushed for great economic development, so they're really respected by the people.

"However, we can easily order them to sign His Majesty's fine. That way, they'll be the ones to levy the tax against the populace. We'll see if they still like them then. We can even stand out to mediate between the generals and the people to clean up the mess. That way, the powerful locals will come to curry favour with us with all sorts of gifts and benefits..." Dawanil said with a dark smile.

"Alright, that's enough. Let's get off. We'll let these colony bumpkins witness what true noble grace looks like," Fegri said, tidying up his formal robes once more.

The seven ambassadors disembarked from their carriages with friendly smiles. They greeted Bolonik and Skri with the most welcome of gestures and hugged them to show their amicability. The crowds cheered loudly and joyfully for witnessing this historic moment.

Bolonik invited the seven generals to inspect the elite troops of the theatre. The two troop formations also followed along beside the red carpet.

As Dawanil walked, he whispered, "General Bolonik, aren't there three more generals? Why are they not here?"

Bolonik smiled and replied, "General Claude has been busy these days dealing with an urgent situation in the colony of Vebator. He's rushing back to us now that it is dealt with. General Birkin is in the distant Cape Loducus, so he'll need some time before he can return. As for General Eiblont, his old wounds resurged and he's still recovering. He cannot receive you lords."

"I see. No worries, I was just asking," Dawanil said with a sigh. With two generals not in Lanu and one bedridden, there would be even fewer obstacles for their plan. Once they took power, it would be too late for the two generals to do anything even if they rushed back.

The troop formations did a gun salute and performed seven basic attacking formations, earning them the ambassadors' praise.

After that came the merchants and local authorities as well as their family members. They greeted the ambassadors with loud cheers and scattered flower petals all across the red carpet.

The ambassadors made some casual conversation with them before they were finally escorted to an elevated platform at the end of the red carpet. That was where they would give their speech to the public as ambassadors of the kingdom.

Bolonik was the first to offer some opening statements. His adjutant took out a magic scroll from his leather sack and tore it open on stage. It was a spell scroll for sound amplification, which the kingdom's Watchers designated to be a harmless spell. It was used for public addresses to ensure every member of the audience could hear the speaker properly.

The only weakness of that spell was its short duration; it could only last for around ten minutes. With each scroll priced at ten crowns, a long speech would end up being quite costly. As such public speaking was something only the rich could afford. Then again, Bolonik was writing it off as a public expense this time.

He passionately said, "When the citizens and soldiers of the theatre resisted the Shiksan invasion and won, we were pining for the praise and reward of His Majesty far away at the mainland. To ensure that the kingdom remains united and to not waste the efforts of the late Stellin X in starting the colonial effort, the theatre stood with its people through rough and hard times and made many brave sacrifices to achieve victory in this war!

"Today, we welcome the kingdom's ambassadors once more. They bring with them His Majesty's words of concern. They will once more help shed the benevolent light of the Stellin royal family on Nubissia. Let us welcome the ambassadors' arrival! It is truly a day for all of us Auerans in the colonies to feel proud! You may proudly claim to be an Aueran citizen and soldier! Now, let us hear what the ambassadors have to say."

Usually, ambassadors would give some casual praise to the local officials at receptions like these to further stoke the crowd's spirits. It was to show how close they were with the local officials. As for private goals and objectives, they were to be discussed in private. They always had to maintain an air of solidarity to the public.

Bolonik's adjutant tore another spell scroll.

However, the crowd, local officials and bigwigs, as well as the soldiers didn't expect that one of the ambassadors would immediately begin reading Stellin XI's decree.

The decree emphasised the disrespect the theatre has shown the kingdom in not pledging allegiance to him the moment he had his coronation and even stopping their tribute to the royal family. The colonies were also lambasted for not immediately sending reinforcements to him during the civil war and watching the harm come to the mainland.

It spoke of how the king was furious, but was benevolent enough to overlook the five generals' crimes for their minor contribution in the colonial war. They would merely be relieved of duty and given an honourable discharge after a one-rank demotion.

As for the power to govern the theatre, it was to be completely transferred to the seven ambassadors. From that day onwards, everything in the theatre was to be decided by them without anyone able to question them!

It was utter shock and despair! The crowd broke into conversation and the officials looked at one another with utter confusion. The troop formation fell into chaos and some even yelled about the unjust decree.

Two ambassadors approached Bolonik and Skri and tore off their lieutenant-general and major-general shoulder marks before demanding they hand in their ceremonial blades.

The commotion beneath the podium got louder and louder. Fegri stood on the podium and yelled, "What are you doing?! Do you want to be labelled traitors?! It's His Majesty's decree!"

Everyone ignored him. The two formations of soldiers huddled together and loudly protested, "His Majesty is unjust! We refuse to accept the decree!"

"Let me handle this," Bolonik said, having apparently just aged ten years.

He slowly approached the podium and asked his adjutant to tear another sound-amplification spell scroll.

"Soldiers, get into formation, please. Your duty is not to protest but maintain order and return to camp. Do your duty like proper soldiers of the kingdom. I, as an old soldier of the kingdom, am willing to accept His Majesty's punishment. I also ask you to do the same as a fellow soldier as the ambassadors are representatives of His Majesty."

Chapter 478 - Ambassadors' Night Meeting

"How could it be?! The colonies still owe four million crowns in debt?!" Anklink slammed the meeting table in a fit of rage.

Skri looked at him mockingly. "Lord Ambassador, how else did you think the theatre defeated 700 thousand Shiksan troops with only around 130 thousand men? You may check our accounts. All the fees are clearly stated there in detail.

"The daily expenditure of the forces, ammunition and resupply costs as well as wartime bonuses are all clearly stated in the accounts. Even the pensions and medical costs incurred have clear records. You may check each file and even run an investigation to see if we've faked any of it--"

"I'm not interested in dead people!" Anklink interrupted with his eyes bloodshot. He had thought dealing with Bolonik and Skri as well as taking over the theatre could help fill their pockets.

They didn't think that all they got was an empty husk after checking the accounts. There wasn't much funding left in headquarters, much to the ambassadors' disappointment.

It was worth noting that they did not consider Loki Mountains to be a new colony of the kingdom as there wasn't a single Aueran citizen there, not to mention its desolate state. The fact that there were more than 17 gold and silver mines was intentionally hidden by Skri. All that could be seen on the maps were mountains with no plains at all. In the eyes of people of this era, mountainous areas weren't good areas for colonies.

"Who knows if it's real or not?" Anklink tapped lightly on the stack of accounts and logistics records half a person in height. "Since you defeated all 700 thousand Shiksans, I'd like to know where the spoils and enemy's military funding went.

"I bet the Shiksans didn't send 700 thousand empty stomachs here, right? Even though military matters aren't my forte, I have some common sense. All those soldiers need food and clothes, as well as a salary, which is sure to not be a small number. If you can exterminate all of them, surely you have some gains as well? Where are all those spoils and funds?"

"War is indeed not your forte, Lord Ambassador," Skri mocked mercilessly, "No soldier would carry a large sack of gold coins with them to the battlefield. The Shiksans are no different. Do you see the account books with the blue covers? All our spoils are listed there.

"The tens of warehouses are filled with muskets, cannons and ammunition as well as military wear and the like. There's also preserved meat and food. As for their funds, all I can say is that you've overthought it, Lord. The Shiksans didn't bring their coins to the warzone so as to not lose them to us.

"I questioned many captured Shiksan logisticians and found that they opened a bank account in the united overseas bank in Fochs. All their purchases have been made using that bank account. Lacking in money as our theatre is, there's no way that we'd attack the Fochsian city for the funds in their bank and instigate war with another nation."

Baron Fegri went to the stack of account books with blue covers and picked one out for a detailed look. He was the most well versed in accounting among the seven. After a while, he drew another out, flipped through a few pages, and tossed it onto the desk before turning to the other four ambassadors in the room and nodding.

Viscount Greigliz, who had been sipping his tea, finally put his teacup down. He was one of the two representatives of the old nobility. He looked up at Skri and said, "I recall that a kingdom's main corps' spending wouldn't exceed 500 crowns a year, to say nothing more about two irregular colonial corps you have here. They should be classified under the local garrison and shouldn't spend more than 300 thousand crowns each.

"Two corps' spending together wouldn't amount to more than 600 thousand crowns, and before the war, the theatre collected nearly 400 thousand crowns each year. On our way here, we also saw that the situation here isn't as bad as we imagined. It seems like you still have lots of financial leeway on top of the taxes you collect. If you can collect 500 thousand crowns a year, you'll only lack 100 thousand crowns to sustain two of your corps. I want to know where this debt of 3.8 million crowns come from?"

"You can find the reason for that in the accounts, Lord Ambassador," Skri coldly said, "Ever since our wise king, Stellin XI, ascended to the throne, the theatre lost all support from the mainland. We had to face Shiks in the colonial conflict ourselves. Later, Storm turned traitor in Whitestag and cut off all contact between us and the mainland.

"The viceroys and high-commissioners of three colonies were going to side with the first prince and we also had to send our troops to quash their rebellion. Shiks also leased Cape Loducus from Fochs and was about to send ten corps of 700 thousand men into the war. We were faced with great pressure and had to make all preparations necessary before the war even started.

"Before the war, we constructed factories for mortar production, built defence lines and strongholds, stockpiled ammunition and also set up defences against our coastlines against the two fleets at Shiks' disposal. We also had to form local garrisons, which all added to the humongous cost. During the war, we had to march and transfer our troops around as well as fund their ammunition and supply costs.

"After the war, we had to pay for medical costs and pensions. We also had to resupply and feed the captives. As you can see, Lanu has been besieged and was reduced to ruins. We needed to help our citizens build their homes up once more so they didn't become vagabonds. All that compounded into the large debt we have today."

"Haha... Isn't your theatre rather kind hearted? Building houses for those lowly commoners... Who can say that there was no corruption involved in those projects?!" Anklink insinuated, "However, I'm willing to put that off for now. I'd like to know, however, why you built mortar factories without the kingdom's approval? Do you not take His Majesty seriously at all? I believe His Majesty has decreed, expressly, that advanced weapons like mortars only be produced by the four grand military fabrications of the kingdom."

Skri looked at the gleeful Anklink in shock. Before he even replied, he was interrupted by Greigliz's coughing fit.

"Cough... cough... ahem... Let's not mention that, Viscount Anklink. You might not know, but the mortars were invented here in the colonies before it was handed to the mainland for production."

Anklink's face paled immediately as his eyes widened.

Viscount Olibut closed the main account book before he spoke.

"I want to know to whom this sum of nearly four million crowns is owed. How are the theatre's daily operations even conducted?"

"The four million crowns aren't owed to a foreign entity. It's owed to a bank founded in the colony with the taxes collected in the colonies for the next decade as collateral. It is only possible through the pooled wealth of the populace. Paper notes were issued to replace coinage backed by confidence in the theatre. Now that the colonial war is over, the theatre is prepared to begin mass development, production, and trade. The debt will be paid off within the next ten years."

"These paper notes, you mean?" Olibut asked as he put down a few notes of various sizes and colours.

They varied in printed value. Some were worth one fenny, some five fennies, some one sunar, some five sunars, some one riyas, some five riyas. The smallest denomination was five pennies.

Skri nodded.

"Clever trick..." Fegri murmured as he picked the notes up for a closer look, "Why didn't you issue notes for thales and crowns?"

"No need. Anyone with enough notes to make thales or crowns can trade them for an actual coin. Right now there would be little confidence in our currency if we didn't have at least some way to convert the notes into old coins."

Fegri and Olibut glanced at each other, a glint passing between them. They were new nobles, so they were adept at finance and understood the market potential represented by these paper notes. Perhaps they could make a killing back in the kingdom with this idea. They decided to not make a fuss.

"We'll stop here for today," Olibut said as he got up, "Colonel Skri, even though His Majesty has permitted your honourable discharge, you still have some things to answer for, so you will stay here for now. You may only leave after we've settled this with General Bolonik.

"His Majesty has another decree, however. He does not want to see any of you on the mainland. You will spend the rest of your lives in colonies. Think about in which colony you want to live and report to us. It'd be easier to reach you that way. If you need anything, tell the guards outside your room."

In another room, Count Dawanil and another ambassador kicked the door open in fits of rage.

"Ridiculous! This Bolonik really is a stubborn old thing. He actually dared to refuse His Majesty's decree with the late king's decree! What's this business of allowing the theatre to designate all taxes to the war effort and the king's benevolent relief of the colonies' tributes? They're all released to the public and the colonies' citizens all know about it!

"How can we fulfil His Majesty's mission like this? We were ordered to collect all the tribute owed and fine them ten times more. But now this old bastard's pulled this trick... The colonies are clearly drowning in riches! How can we get what we need if we don't tax them?!"

For the future of their careers and profits, the seven ambassadors did their best to fulfil Stellin XI's demands. They had a meeting through that night itself to plan their next move from what they learned that day.

"Even though the theatre owes that large a debt, their financial and administrative situations seem rather good. I made a rough estimate of the food, weapons and gear in their warehouses. The three main corps will go crazy over them if we ship them back to the mainland. Those supplies alone can last the three corps for two to three years in a war!"

Olibut picked up the initial financial report they tried to collate. "Actually, the Shiksan spoils obtained only amount to three million crowns. There are also more than 500 thousand captives, all young labourers, but we have no way of dealing with them now.

"If we could convert all that into gold crowns, the debt can easily be settled. It's too bad we won't be able to find a buyer in the colonies, so we can only slowly trade these away after shipping them back to the mainland. Naturally, the theatre's stockpile of arms and munitions will have to be shipped back by us. We can discuss the terms of the trade with the three main corps then.

"It's been good news so far, but we also have bad news. I really don't know what kind of crazy infected those five generals. Even though they have two irregular corps, they formed another 20 garrison lines. They also took the Alliance's fleet and reformed it into their own long-distance patrol fleet under the theatre's direct authority. They now have a total force of around 260 thousand men. Our plans to downsize them will be rather difficult..."

Fegri put down his cup of tea. He was quite the tea addict; his hand was still touching the cup. "The situation the theatre is in is really complex. While their finances are in the red and they don't have much money stored up, they can make use of public trust and goodwill to effectively loan so much money from the populace to maintain the spending of all 260 thousand men.

"Even though we took power over the theatre, we still don't have the backing of the people. I regret that we weren't able to come with a folk. That way, we'd easily be able to suppress all voices of dissent. It's too bad we only have a tribe of marines as guards, and I'm sure I don't need to bring up their abysmal performance. They aren't of any use at all.

"What we need now is time. First, we think about how we can take control of those two corps and use the king's decree to get the high-ranking officers to be demoted and discharged. We'll pick a few low-ranking officers and reliable ones from the marine tribe to hold the men. Then, we'll use the two corps to disband the 20-odd garrison lines before finally downsizing the corps into local garrison forces. However, we'd need at least half a year to do all that.

"During that time, we also have to pick people we can trust among those who chose to side with us. We need to reform our personal guard. Only with a reliable guard can we tax, punish and seek out debts. Naturally, we also have to give the order to collect the guns in the hands of the populace to prevent them from going overboard and causing our men harm."

Dawanil, however, shook his head. He was from new nobility whereas Gregliz was one of the old nobility. Even though they were both ambassadors, they were a little distant and looked down on one another. "Viscount Gregliz is right, as his experience would suggest. Based on his estimations, we can indeed take full control over the colonies in about a year or two.

"But let's not forget that His Majesty only gave us half a year before we departed. If we take out our travel time, we only have around two months. In other words, we'll have to gather a sum of more than a million crowns to be sent back to fill the kingdom's empty coffers. That's the real reason we're here.

"We have no time to dally per the viscount's plans. We are pressed to get His Majesty the money. Otherwise, we won't be able to keep our post. I initially thought there should be a few hundred thousand crowns' worth of cash here, but I didn't think it'd only be an empty husk ridden with debt. This is a huge obstacle towards fulfilling His Majesty's goals. Before anything else, we need to get a million gold crowns.

"But it isn't all doom and gloom. The colonies are much richer than we imagined. I have to admit the five generals did rather well. They managed to develop the colonies to the point that they have a million crowns in taxes each year, which isn't an easy feat. I recall that the kingdom used to obtain around 400 thousand crowns in tribute back then. That means, there's quite a lot for us seven to share.

"Viscount Olibut, Baron Fegri, didn't you say the overseas bank funds the military? Go look into the bank tomorrow and see if we'll be able to get the funds we need from the bank. It'll be a great boon if we could. We can offer them an opportunity to draft a deal that will be beneficial to both of us."

"Alright," the two nobles replied.

"I'll go check it out too," Anklink said.

Chapter 479 - Blinded by Greed

Anklink rushed off the carriage before it even stopped properly and almost fell. However, he didn't care about his posture and instead yelled agitatedly, "Marine ground forces tribe! Gather immediately, quick!"

Upon hearing the commotion at the headquarters, Dawanil came over with three other ambassadors and wondered what was up with Anklink. The tribe was the only force the seven ambassadors had in the colonies. Initially, the war theatre's logistics department's guard line and Monolith's troops were rather nonchalant about the ambassadors' orders. Even after the high-ranking officers were forced to step down, the base-level officers were rather resistant to their orders.

So what would Anklink be doing by gathering the troops? To get into a firefight with the colonies' forces? Even though they were ambassadors and represented the king himself and the forces of the war theatre couldn't offend them outright even if they didn't obey their orders, it would be a whole different story if blood was spilled. Not to mention, given the marine tribe's performance, would they really be a match for the war theatre's forces? Anklink really needed to think this through.

However, he had rushed to the rest by then. "Quick! Let's go to the overseas bank! They have tens of millions of crowns' worth of gold and silver bars, each about this size! Baron Fegri and Viscount Olibut had me gather the troops immediately to seal the bank off... They're about to transfer the bars away..."

The other four looked at each other blankly before turning to Anklink's arm, which was stretched half a metre out. Could such a large bar made from gold and silver really exist?

Fortunately, Greigliz remained calm. "We can't bring all our men away. We have to keep at least two hundred here to watch after those two."

He was referring to Bolonik and Skri, who were being kept under house arrest in the headquarters.

By the time the five ambassadors got into a crowded, single coach, Dawanil and the others heard Anklink's full account. The gold and silver had completely dazzled the three ambassadors who went to the bank. They didn't expect a room full of neatly arranged bars would shock them so thoroughly. When the supervisor of the bank said they were worth around six million crowns, they came to a unanimous decision without even discussing it.

Olibut and Fegri were initially just going to force the overseas bank to give them some shares, naturally shares over 20 percent without having to pay a single penny and being allowed to take part in the bank's decision making. Anklink, on the other hand, was wracking his mind on figuring out how to bring all those bars back home. Well, he wasn't that greedy. He only wanted to take back a seventh of them and leave the rest for the other ambassadors.

Regrettably, the supervisor politely refused the ambassadors' demand to take a few gold bars with them. When he said that the gold bars, as well as the silver bars in another room worth two million crowns and the three million crowns' worth of crowns and thales were the riches of the people and the collateral for the 20 million paper notes the bank issued, the three ambassadors let their greed show on their faces and were set on swallowing the bank in full.

"We can easily close the bank because it doesn't have formal approval from the kingdom's ministry of finance. There's only a writ from the theatre. According to the regulations of civilian financial institutions, this bank is not legal. The paper notes you issue can also be considered to be illegal forgeries that the kingdom won't acknowledge," Anklink said.

Half an hour later, the seven ambassadors stood within the bank's gold vault. The glorious golden mountain basked in candlelight completely dazzled them, rendering them euphoric.

The overseas bank's main branch had been sealed up. Around four hundred marines were stationed all around the building. The main gates were closed and all that remained in the great hall were the seven ambassadors. Had the bars not been too heavy, they would've hugged them in their arms and began dancing.

"Hahahaha... I didn't think the solution to all our troubles would be right here," Dawanil said as he stroked a large gold bar with his hand. The only other time he was so gentle was during the first night of his marriage.

"Sir..." A captain of the marines entered the hall. His arrival snapped the ambassadors out of it.

"What is it?" Olibut said in annoyance.

The captain glanced at the room full of gold bars as he salivated. "Lord Ambassadors, there are lots of civilians gathered outside the bank. They are questioning us about us sealing it off. Some even claim to be the shareholders of the bank who demand to meet you, lords."

"We don't have time to meet them," Anklink snapped, "What are the guns in your hands for? Chase them away! Get the shareholders to buzz off and tell them that the bank was formed without authorisation from the kingdom! They illegally issued currency and gathered capital to disrupt the kingdom's financial system! It's a crime against the kingdom! We will investigate this bank carefully before going after them later. Have them go back and repent and ask them to turn themselves in for the best outcome!"

After getting the captain to leave, the ambassadors went up to the third floor of the bank and were about to check the main accounts of the bank. Soon, they made a great discovery.

"According to these accounts, there's another three million crowns' worth of coinage stored in the vault apart from the bars worth eight million crowns here in this hall. Additionally, each of the seven colonies' branches also has a million crowns in coins. They total up to around 18 million crowns.

"This overseas bank has issued around 30 million crowns' worth of notes denoted in the smaller currencies. Not only that, they loaned out around 30 million crowns to support industrial and agricultural development in the colonies. Up to ten million crowns of interest-free loans were given for the construction of transportation infrastructure to the war theatre..."

Baron Fegri soon finished checking the accounts and gave his conclusion. "There's a list of investors for the bank. There are around two hundred of them and the smallest percentage of their shares amount to 0.1 percent. I believe this list includes all the local people with influence. Their combined wealth shouldn't be that much less than what the bank has."

"Hahahaha..." The ambassadors couldn't hold their laughter in. By the time the bank was dealt with, they would use the list to seek out the investors and slap the crime of illegally starting a bank on them. If the ambassadors couldn't at least wring them dry, they would be worthless. They didn't think there would be so many well-off folks in the colonies.

"We came to the right place this time," Dawanil said as he opened a bottle of blueberry wine, poured himself a glass and finished it in one go. "I really didn't expect this. We thought the colonies would be some rural backwater where the birds won't even stop to shit. Yet, the main task His Majesty has given us is going to be solved with the bank alone.

"Let me hear your thoughts. How should we deal with the gold and silver here? We came here on the same ship, so we should share our benefits. We better discuss beforehand how much we're going to hand in so we don't fight one another for it later. Now, we have to find the right balance to benefit ourselves within the limits of His Majesty's decree."

Olibut nodded. "The Lord Count is correct. I was thinking that His Majesty asked us to collect the unpaid tribute as well as the fine that is ten times that amount, whether it be for only one year or the past five years. That amount is based on the tribute paid five years ago. In the kingdom's financial records, the total tribute of the colonies each year only amounts to 400 thousand crowns.

"Ten times that amount is four million. We can complete our mission with the wealth stores of the bank alone. However, if what His Majesty meant was ten times the amount of the tribute owed in the past five years, then we're in trouble. Five years of tribute is two million, and ten times that makes 20 million. In other words, we'll have to pay 22 million crowns. We're still short of 11 million after giving all the wealth in this bank away..."

Greigliz cleared his throat and put down his cup of tea. "I believe our wise king is aware that the reason the colonies didn't pay the tribute was to fund their military expenses. So, the fine is merely a pretence to punish the colonies for their disrespect rather than actually asking us to go through with it.

"If we really do have to hand in ten times the tribute of the past five years, we'll be doomed. The reason is simple. If our king notices that there's so much wealth in the colonies, he might have us stay for two more years to get the full amount of 20 million...

"Our assignment here as ambassadors might last two years. After the high-commissioners and viceroys take their post next year, all we have to do is to stay for another year to delegate authority to them. In other words, we'll have to return the year after to the mainland. So, the only time we can truly spread our wings is when the rest come next year."

The ambassadors fell silent. They knew what Greigliz meant by that. When the viceroys and high-commissioners came to take their posts, there was going to be an amount of wealth they had to share with them. That was why they could only be the local hegemons during the year prior to the others' arrival.

Dawanil knocked on the desk. "Viscount Greigliz is correct. We have to cherish our time. I have a suggestion. We can't let His Majesty find out about the wealth here, yet we have to try our best to fulfil his orders. So, I believe we should first send a payment of a million crowns back along with a complaint about how rural and desolate the colonies are.

"Next year when the viceroys and high-commissioners come, we'll send another fleet with two million crowns back. The year after, we'll send another million crowns' worth of gold and silver bars. That way, His Majesty will think we've tried our best and won't blame us for not being able to get him the full amount."

"It's a good suggestion. I believe that is what we should do as well." The other ambassadors expressed their agreement. None of them were fools. There were only eleven million crowns in the bank's gold and silver reserves. Giving Stellin XI four million meant each of the ambassadors would get one million. As for the rest, it would depend on what methods the others used. The wealth they squeezed from the populace was their own and didn't have to be handed in to the national and royal treasuries.

The atmosphere grew livelier. The other nobles praised Dawanil's plan. Apart from the four million they would hand in, the rest would all enter their own pockets.

"I suggest transporting the bars, thales and crowns here back to the headquarters for safekeeping. When I came here with Viscount Olibut and Viscount Anklink in the morning, we noticed around 20 carriages with iron plating parked at the backyard of the bank building, so we thought the bank was trying to ship the bars away. That's why we immediately sent Viscount Anklink back to call for troops to seal this place up," Fegri praised gleefully.

Dawanil nodded his agreement. "This is a good idea. Not only do we have to ship the reserves back, we also have to take the accounts with us. That way, we can tell which one of the citizens here are rich--"

However, a rushed knocking came to interrupt him. A lieutenant-colonel barged into the room and exclaimed, "Lord Ambassadors, please look outside the window. It's best we leave."

Dawanil slammed his wine glass on the ground. "Bastard! How dare you rush in so abruptly? You want me to take you off your tribesman post?"

Olibut and the ambassadors went to the window and their faces paled. "Why are there so many people? What are they trying to do?"

The bank was surrounded by a sea of people. All sorts of carriages encircled the bank some ten metres away. Many among the crowd were middle-aged to elderly men in discoloured military wear armed with muskets.

Anklink angrily rebuked the tribesman, "Didn't I have you shoot them to disperse them?! Why didn't you shoot?! Are these filthy commoners going to rebel?! Send our troops immediately to suppress them!"

The tribesman stammered, "T-they have guns... And t-there are too many of t-them... T-the men we had at the perimeter had to r-retreat inside the building..."

"Then what are you waiting for?! Shoot these dirty commoners dead!" Fegri cried in a panic.

"No, we can't shoot! We don't have any reserve ammunition!" Greigliz yelled, "Have the men secure the main building immediately. We'll send someone to ask the commoners what they want to do to see if we have a chance to let someone slip out to call for help."

The poor tribesman was sent outside to ask and returned ten minutes later. "They want us to buzz off and say the bank belongs to the colonies' citizens! They won't let us take a single penny! The investors of the bank are the ones who riled those commoners up! They demand to know why we're sealing the bank!"

"Why? This bank is illegal! We represent the king's authority and are investigating this matter! Do they want to rebel?!" Anklink yelled with rage.

"Wait," Olibut said after some consideration, "Go out one more time and ask the investors to come in to negotiate with us. We'll apprehend them after they come. Perhaps the crowd will disperse that way without them stirring the flames. Then, we can declare the investors traitors and exterminate their families. That way, the folk won't think of resisting us."

However, they miscalculated. After capturing the handful of investors, they weren't able to stop more commoners from rushing there. To the colonies' citizens, the arrival of the ambassadors and relief of the generals of their positions had nothing to do with them. That was the business of the colonies' upper echelons.

But when it came to sealing their bank, it went too far. Nobody wanted the paper notes in their hands to become scrap paper. They gathered on their own accord and surrounded the bank, uniting under the investors and swearing never to let the ambassadors take their reserves away. That was the only collateral that guaranteed the value of their money.

When the first batch of investors were apprehended, the crowd got even more agitated. They built up barricades and stationed their own men in a defence perimeter around the bank. All sorts of fliers were being tossed around with not a single one saying anything good about the ambassadors. Some fliers stated that the real reason the ambassadors were there was to rob the colonies of their riches to be shipped back to fund Stellin XI's lavish spending.

On the 7th of the 11th month, the ambassadors that were surrounded for three days in the bank started negotiating with the investors of the bank. This time, they took one step back and allowed the bank to keep running, but stated that the reserves in the main branch had to be taken away as punishment.

The second batch of investors to negotiate with the ambassadors included the one-armed Sir Bernard. He angrily refused the ambassadors' demands and insisted that they had no right to seal the main branch as that would cause great financial loss in the colonies. The wealth in the bank belonged to the people. The ambassadors had no right over them.

As such, the second batch of investors was once more apprehended. The crowd outside fumed with rage at them breaking their promises and loudly protested. They demanded the imprisoned investors and bank staff be unconditionally freed and for the ambassadors to leave the colonies!

On the 11th of the 11th month, the ambassadors finally used their sound-amplification-spell scroll after being encircled for a whole week. They announced that the commoners were committing treason and demanded them to disperse or be charged as such. Otherwise, they would be bloodily purged by the war theatre.

Yet, Claude came to the bank with Tribe 131 and used a spell scroll himself to give the order. "Attack! Take the bank building! Anyone who resists is to be killed without exception!"

Chapter 480 - Aftermath and Self-governance

On the night of the 11th of the 11th month, Year 594, Claude, Birkin, and Eiblont stormed the theatre's headquarters with their troops.

Bolonik and Skri, who had been imprisoned there for half a month, finally regained their freedom. They sat in Bolonik's office, waiting for the other three's arrival.

The decree brought by the ambassadors came as quite a shock for Bolonik. It was plain for him to see on the desk, and after reading its contents, his heart grew cold and face stiffened. He knew well that if he allowed the decree to come to pass, the past few years of their efforts in the colonies would've gone to waste.

But after Claude and the others entered the office and closed the door, Bolonik spoke in a cold and dissatisfied tone, "So it all went according to your guesses. You're happy now, right? So when are you going to declare independence and claim the throne, Your Majesty Claude?"

Skri, Birkin and Eiblont didn't say a word and turned to Claude. The action against the ambassadors was all his plan. Eiblont wasn't addressing the matter directly and Birkin was too far away, so he couldn't make it in time. While Skri was in the know, he chose to stand with Bolonik to welcome the ambassadors so as to keep the plan a secret, only to be imprisoned for those two weeks.

Claude only managed to excuse himself from attending the ambassadors' welcome ceremony by citing trouble at Blackstone Factory. Otherwise, he would've been imprisoned like the other two and that wouldn't bide well for their plans.

Even though being imprisoned didn't mean he lost all ability to resist, any act of resistance by him and his men would've been considered in the light of a coup instead of him coming to the rescue of the colonies' populace by stopping the ambassadors from stealing their gold reserves in the bank.

Bolonik was clearly displeased with the developments. Now, Claude had captured the ambassadors and dragged the other four generals down with him, all for what? So he could be king of the colonies?

Claude shrugged nonchalantly. "To be honest, I didn't do much. According to my plan, we would've needed another seven days for the ambassadors to incite the displeasure of all the citizens in the colonies. That would be the best time to deal with them. We'll make the populace aware of the ambassadors' bad intentions, greed and how sinister they are so they can finally see the true attitude our new king has against the colonies.

"I didn't think these dogs' noses would be that sharp to be able to pick up on the scent of our bank two days after taking power. I can only say that they've let the money blind them to the point that they didn't know they've entered the angry mob's sights. Even though this wasn't part of my plan, the colonies' citizens are now riled up. If we let this continue, it'll go out of control. That's why I had to arrest them.

"And don't joke around with me. I'm not trying to commit treason. Why would I declare independence? The centre of the world is located on Freia, not Nubissia. Even though the territories here are large, me declaring myself king here wouldn't be that much different from the nikancha founding their own nation. I wouldn't want to be laughed at for trying to play make-believe king."

Bolonik almost did a double-take.

"You're not trying to declare independence or forge a throne, are you? You've never considered betraying the kingdom?"

"Of course not," Claude declared unhesitantly, "I'm an Aueran. This is still the territory of the Kingdom of Aueras."

"T-then... why did you have to capture the ambassadors? You could've tried to talk it out properly..." Bolonik's mood improved at a notable rate.

Claude shook his head speechlessly. It was probably a difference in their life experiences. Even though Bolonik was a full 20 years older than Claude, he was quite naive when it came to certain matters. He was quite the loyalist to the throne. No matter how badly he was treated, he would take it without complaint until his loyalty killed him.

He was also a commoner, so he was never nurtured to scheme and plot for higher ambitions like the nobles were. He had never experienced it, nor had he seen it happen. He trusted in the inherent good of man, and that Stellin XI was only temporarily misguided. Since the ambassadors' word represented the king's, he would have no choice but to follow it. Eventually, he thought, the colonies would return to the right path. He didn't really care about his own power and position either.

Claude, however, was no Bolonik. He was not a Freian native, but a transmigrator from the modern world long rid of kings and monarchs with unquestioned power. He didn't have the slightest shred of admiration for the long bloodlines of the noble houses, for history and their portrayal in modern media had long taught him of their shameless darkness. Even though he was now an honorary viscount himself, he didn't really take his status to heart.

"I'm going to send the marine tribe and the ambassadors to Loki Mountains since we're really short on manpower there. I also ordered the garrison force at Port Cobius to capture the naval officers that came in the ambassadors' flotilla of seven ships for them to mine gold for a few years."

"Y-you!" Bolonik yelled with a start, "Didn't say you weren't going to betray the kingdom? Why are you still committing treason?!"

"No, you're wrong--" Claude smiled. "--I'm merely expressing my opposition to Stellin XI, not committing treason. Naturally, if our king thinks I am, I have no choice in the matter. What can be done about it? Where's the king going to find a force to send to us? Does the kingdom have ships? An escort fleet? Can a corps even be sent here?

"Well, that's not really what we should be discussing now. We should ask our wise king whether he has any money left in the national treasury to afford a war with us across Tranquil Ocean. I hope our king doesn't forget the fact that we just wiped out 10 Shiksan standing corps and have 500 thousand-plus labourers. He had better consider how many corps he needs to deal with our 'treason'.

"Bonik, you're our friend. We all know you're a loyal general to the kingdom. We also don't want to betray the kingdom like you, but as the acting field marshal of the theatre, you need to know which liege is worth your loyalty. You've read the decree yourself and know that if that really comes to pass, the colonies will be covered eternally in darkness.

"We are not opposing the kingdom's rule. Instead, we are protecting the kingdom's territories on Nubissia, which the late king, Stellin X, had us develop. We must ensure their prosperity. That is the mission of those of us from Ranger, the mission Lord Militant Miselk gave us before he left. We can't allow Stellin XI's whims to ruin it all.

"Think about the five million citizens of the kingdom here. Compared to their happiness and bliss, satisfying the whims of an unhinged monarch is far less important. We shall change the colonies into an autonomous region. We are still Aueran territory, but we will no longer accept any decree from the mad king. When the next wise king ascends to the throne, we'll once more return to the rule of the royal capital."

Claude's intentions were clear. Being opposed to Stellin XI didn't mean full opposition to the kingdom. For now, the colonies would be autonomous until the next king ascends to the throne. If the next king shows himself to be a wise ruler, he would forgive the treasonous acts of Claude and the rest and retake the colonies under the kingdom's wing. But if he is the same as Stellin XI, the colonies could keep their autonomy.

After all, there's nothing the mainland can do about their autonomy. They wouldn't be able to afford the ships needed to transport troops over anyway, and they only had three main corps in the kingdom. Who else could they send to deal with the two corps of the autonomous region? Given Stellin XI's character, would he really put in the effort necessary to wipe out the autonomous region? It was almost impossible. He would rather spend his time attending balls and getting so drunk he was good as half-dead. At least, he wouldn't be a laughing stock in his drunken fantasies.

Bolonik's expression shifted to one end and to another. He knew Claude spoke the truth. Given the theatre's current might, there was no way the kingdom could even protest their decision. That was the difference between Claude and him. Claude would assert his might against unfair treatment, while all he would do was take all the shit thrown at him. Even though he wanted to loyally serve the kingdom, he couldn't do it because Stellin XI simply didn't care for the loyalty of a general so far away in the colonies.

"Sigh..." Bolonik turned to the door and started to leave. "I'll leave it to you, Claude. I'm going home."

Claude saluted him.

"Sure. Take a good rest. It must've been tough on the two of you. The locals are now gathering in Lanu and we're going to host an announcement ceremony for our self-governance. We'll need you to preside over it."

Bolonik stopped at the door without turning around before hesitantly nodding. He then pushed the door open and left headquarters with his newly formed guard escort.

"Claude, why didn't you claim a throne? I promise the three of us will be loyal. We're just waiting on a duke Title from you," Eiblont said with a chuckle. Skri and Birkin also looked expectantly at him.

Claude clicked his tongue and sat down on a chair before grabbing a glass of water. Eiblont moved quickly and said, "Please wait, I'll get you a nice bottle of wine. I know where Bonik keeps his stash."

When Eiblont returned and poured each of them a glass of fruit wine, Claude sipped it as he considered his response. "My father once told me this: one who wants to wear the crown has to be ready to bear its weight. I grew up in Whitestag back when it wasn't a city. There was a shrine of the earth goddess there with a pair of really beautiful crowns made of real gold and silver and embedded with many gems.

"I'm sure you know what they use it for. Every 9th month during the harvest festival, the most handsome young lad and the prettiest lass of town would be picked to wear it along with their ceremonial gowns before parading and partying through the town for three whole days. I always hoped to one day be able to wear that crown and parade around the beautiful carriage like a king.

"My father knew I had that wish and brought me there. He got me that crown from the shrine and asked me whether I wanted to put it on, but there's a catch. I can only put it on only if I make sure to wear it for a whole hour. I even wanted to complain that one hour was too short, so I said yes immediately. I couldn't wait to wear it for three whole days like the prince of the festival.

"I immediately regretted it, because I didn't think it would be so heavy and uncomfortable to wear. Before ten minutes had passed, I cried and asked my father to take it off. You know there's a secret latch on the top of the crown that can only be unlocked with the help of someone else. But my father never took it off for me and watched me cry as he sipped his tea.

"I don't know how I survived that hour. All I could remember was the pain on my head. When my father finally removed it after an hour, I felt like a fish back in water and breathed in relief. My father then told me those words and explained it to me. There is nothing in this world you can obtain without effort or consequence. Before we want to take anything, we have to consider whether we're ready for the consequences of responsibility that the thing entails.

"The crown is a symbol of beauty and treasure, as well as power. The throne demands one be responsible for one's subjects. It's all too easy to become a misguided monarch like Stellin XI. But what's the point? It'll only lead to mass betrayal and rebellion as well as a bad mark in the history books. I don't want to become someone that's cursed by the people for the times to come.

"Now, we have nine colonies and a little more area than the kingdom's territory on the mainland. If we split it into prefectures like the kingdom, we can have some three to four prefectures for each colony, so we'd have more than 30 prefectures. On the mainland, our king has ravaged 27 prefectures and lost the 21 newly conquered ones. He also gave up on four border prefectures.

"Despite our territory being larger than the kingdom's, we only have around five million settlers here. The 27 prefectures on the mainland now have more than 20 million. Even with the kingdom's current ravaged state, as long as things stabilise over there and a new ruler rights the wrong of the past one, the kingdom can be restored in less than five years. That's the core of the kingdom's might. They are unlike us here at the colonies, where we have to start from scratch by developing the desolate and unpopulated rural areas.

"Under such circumstances, claiming kingship and declaring independence is a fool's errand. Even if we ignore the fact that three million of our subjects here just immigrated a few years ago and still have strong feelings about the mainland, let's assume a good king comes along and whips the kingdom back into proper shape and power in two decades. If we declared independence, we would've made ourselves a huge nemesis, so what's the point? At least, I can't see myself being a qualified king either.

"Additionally, think about it, the whole of Nubissia is covered with colonies of other Freian nations. We'd stand alone in the entire world if we founded our own nation. Every other country would turn against us. No kingdom, whether they have colonies or not, want the precedent of their overseas territories breaking away to form their own countries.

"But as an Aueran colony, even if we govern ourselves, the other nations will have to consider our kingdom's response before attacking us. But if we declare independence, that gets thrown out of the window. We defeated ten Shiksan corps, but how would we ever take the brunt of a united Freian colonial force?"

The other three never expected Claude would give them such a deep lecture out of nowhere. Skri gave it some thought and said with some repentance, "You're still the one who has the clearest head on his shoulders. You're always looking so far ahead. Actually, when I was imprisoned here, I was filled with frustration. I can't help but cut off all connection with the kingdom after I regain my freedom. We fought this war for so long and won, yet we're treated this way by that king! How could I have taken it sitting down?!"

Birkin and Eiblont both nodded in agreement.

Claude laughed out loud. "There's a saying I read in a book as a child: treat others how you want them to treat you. When a friend comes to visit, we must pay our own visit to their house to give the courtesy back. Now that I've sent the ambassadors and the marines to go mining, Stellin XI will definitely be waiting for an update so he can finally go on a spending spree.

"So, we have to notify him to stop waiting. The ambassadors won't be going back and I've ordered Thundercrash 1st Folk to retreat. Once we declare our self-governance, I'll have to trouble you, Eilon, to go to the mainland with Thundercrash and our fleet as escort. You said there were many refugees in the kingdom, right? Bringing them back here would be doing the kingdom a huge favour, I believe."

Chapter 481 - Deploying on the Mainland

On the 26th of the 11th month, the first self-governance referendum in the colonies was held. Historians of the future would look at that moment with the highest of importance. It was a sign for the eventual declarations of independence by the other colonies.

What the historical records didn't state was all the two hundred so-called representatives of the people that took part in the referendum were investors of the overseas bank. Even the smallest percentage of 0.1 shares equated to an investment of tens of thousands of crowns. In other words, they were no doubt among the rich in the colonies.

During the past half month, the decree from Stellin XI has been published in all newspapers of the colonies and incited the ire of the people. Their foolish king didn't even consider the settlers of the colonies to be his own subjects, but rather slaves. Nobody would like a king that lusted constantly after their wealth.

The two hundred-plus representatives represented the richer settlers. All the investors were well aware that the ambassadors were going to come for them. The reason for that was with the bank sealed and the notes no longer valid, most of the citizens would end up dead broke. They couldn't even be squeezed for money at all. Only by going for the rich could the ambassadors satisfy Stellin XI's lust for riches.

That was why not a single one of the investors was against the theatre's proposal to go against the king but not the kingdom. With Bolonik's help organising, the representatives spent half an hour casting their votes. The results were 199 for, seven spoiled votes and zero against. From then on, the colonies would formally cut ties with the kingdom and be renamed Aueran Autonomous Region. It was declared that they would no longer heed any of Stellin XI's decrees.

First, they had to change their name. Given the current situation with the war with Shiks already over, a new conflict wouldn't start for the time being. The theatre was now called the autonomous military region. It still fulfilled similar administrative and military duties as before.

As for the field marshal, Bolonik still held that post. Claude and the other four generals became vice marshals. However, Bolonik was more in charge of matters of administration and coordinating the self-governing council. The writ to mobilise and command the two corps and garrison lines had all been transferred to Claude. He would be in charge of the real work in the region.

Next came the formation of the self-governing council. All two hundred representatives became members of that council, Claude included. He also gained the title of council member. On paper, the council was the highest authoritative body in the entire autonomous region that represented the interests of the people. However, their real powers were embarrassingly few. They only had the power to monitor and suggest policies. The real power was split between headquarters and the executives of the council.

After the formation of the council, the one-armed Sir Bernard didn't disappoint. He took up the post as the first council chairman. The term of a chairman lasted five years and one could at most serve for four terms. Next came the election of the executive committee of the council, which was the administrative body of the autonomous region with most powers of execution. Most civil policies fell under their jurisdiction.

Unsurprisingly, Bolonik was picked to be the first chairman of the executive committee. Apart from the five generals, there were also 12 members of the council who became council executives, Weyblon included. He would be in charge of the autonomous region's overseas matters. The executives would be reevaluated five years later based on their performance.

After most of those things were dealt with, the self-governing council started asking the more difficult questions. For example, some council members suggested the autonomous region be governed with a state system to differentiate it from the kingdom. After heated arguments, that motion was passed in the council with a small majority. The colonies would henceforth be known as states. For instance, The Colony of Cromwell would now be the State of Cromwell. The sub-level administrative unit under the state would be a district rather than prefectures in Aueras.

Claude used this chance to make a suggestion to change the colour of the soldiers' uniforms. He had been quite dissatisfied with the red on Aueran uniforms for a long time. He could tolerate jet-black hats and pants, but red was far too eye catching on the battlefield. With the advent of precision-aiming firearms, not changing the uniform colour would result in unnecessary casualties.

Fortunately, Claude's clout was quite substantial and the motion easily passed. As for what colour they would change it to, headquarters would settle on it on a later date. The council members were quite self-aware and wouldn't make any commotion during Claude's proposal when it came to military matters. Naturally, there were those who thought that the five generals were only using this as an excuse to make more money for their own pockets. After all, changing the uniforms of 200 thousand troops was no small expenditure. The one who was given the contract for that would stand to gain huge profits.

What came after had nothing more to do with Claude. He, Eiblont and Birkin quickly left and began preparing for the blowback from Stellin XI. However, he had no choice but to leave the attack to Eiblont. The autonomous region had just been formed and Claude himself had to hold the fort to ensure the populace was assured.

Moriad's fleet and all the forces save for Dyavid's Line 1303 in Thundercrash 1st Folk were deployed. Eiblont would be commander-in-chief while Myjack and Berklin served as his adjutants. Bloweyk's Wolfang would also deploy two tents to set out with Borkal, who was now chief strategist of the corps. Claude had deployed the most elite of his men for this operation.

"Apart from the warships and transport vessels of our long-distance patrol fleet, I also mobilised near a hundred long-distance vessels that are docked at Port Cobius for this operation. The 40-odd vessels that Colonel Borkal had used to bring back around 60 thousand refugees are now completely repaired and among the ships deployed. They will all be stocked with food and ammunition. The food is for the refugees while the ammunition and arms will be for self-defence and counterattacks.

"This is not a mission that can be completed in a single run. We might take half to one year for this. We need at least a million refugees from the kingdom to solve our region's lack of manpower. That will be your primary objective.

"Additionally, the autonomous region will give that mad king a slap on the face. Tell him that our region is not a toy for him to play around with. We are not his slaves and our wealth is not his.

"Next, after docking in Whitestag, send out troops to capture the Prefecture of Balivia of the three sister prefectures immediately. That's where the fifth industrial complex of the kingdom is located. We need you to move all large machinery in those factories as well as the operators and technicians back to the autonomous region. We need this equipment and talent to help with production and improve our metallurgical capabilities.

"While we can produce Sonia 591s now, we can only make up to 30 thousand each year. Our cannon construction is also quite crude and obsolete. We also lack any large kilns for refining metals effectively. This is all because of the kingdom's attempt to restrict us. They want the colonies to only be a place to import raw materials from, so any equipment and talent won't be allowed to come here.

"That's why I hope you can make up for our largest shortcoming with this deployment. In the coming few years, the autonomous region will enter a wave of mass development. Railroads and trains will become our main and largest transport system. However, the scale of the refineries we have won't allow us to mass-produce the iron rails, so we have to count on this operation.

"Balivia's industrial complex can make arms, but apart from that, there's also a large textile production plant and dyeing plant. Don't miss these two either. Make sure to get their skilled workers to us. You know that we got permission to change our uniforms, so how good the new ones will be will depend on you.

"Do you understand what I want? Gathering refugees or slapping Stellin XI in the face isn't the priority. What's important is emptying Balivia. Colonel Moriad, your fleet's first priority is to ship the industrial equipment here, not refugees. You can gather the strong youth workers among them to help with your transportation efforts though."

Claude finally ended his briefing, hugged Eiblont, saluted him and sent him off along with his comrades at the port. The sails were raised and soon, they disappeared beyond the horizon.

......

To Stellin XI, there could be nothing worse than receiving word about the sudden invasion during new year's eve. He had already prepared a grand banquet for the evening so that he could party through the night and burn away another huge chunk of the ever-emptying coffers of the royal family. He only hoped the ambassadors would quickly send him another load so that he could refill them.

Year 594 was not a good year for Stellin XI. There was not much wealth left to be scoured from the various prefectures of the kingdom. Instead, refugees and vagabonds were increasing in number at a startling rate. Corpses of people starved to death could be seen on the streets from time to time. Bandits were all over the place and not a single official from the prefectures had good news to report to the royal capital. They were either robbed by bandits or overwhelmed by swarms of refugees. They requested military or humanitarian aid nonstop, all of which required precious financial resources to provide.

Ibnist Plains, where the royal capital was situated, was still peaceful. However, the officials were growing more and more discontent with their king and complained that they chose the wrong person to put on the throne. Had they not fought so hard for it, the kingdom wouldn't have ended up in that state.

Stellin XI was mad, but he was no fool. While he had many flaws, such as loving spectacle and throwing endlessly lavish balls and parties so that he could frolic with the beautiful noble ladies, that didn't mean he didn't want to be a good king. He would definitely prefer for the kingdom to be stable as well. However, he was powerless to do anything about it. Putting aside the fact that the nobles and officials are constantly squabbling over power and influence, he couldn't do anything by the sheer fact that the national treasury was empty.

When any of the ministers asked him to stop throwing the balls, he would get mad and start rebuking them. Would stopping them really make the kingdom turn for the better? It was impossible! So what if he saved the measly amount of money he spent on the balls? Everyone knew it wouldn't make a difference. Not to mention, as king, he deserved those lavish parties. If he did a good job throwing them, he could improve the reputation of the Stellin royal family.

Perhaps the kingdom could stabilise after winter. The refugees and vagabonds freezing to death would definitely make the load on the kingdom lighter. That way, there would be no need to aid them. By the time the ambassadors return from the colonies, he would naturally spend some money dealing with the prefectures to get them to resume production and whatnot assuming there was extra from the amount they brought back. Everything would turn for the better in two to three years.

Little did Stellin XI know that he would be informed about the invasion that night itself. It was a complete slight to the royal family! It also meant that the ambassadors he sent had failed their mission and were missing. Who knew if they were still alive?

"Ridiculous! How... how dare they rebel?!" he yelled in the palace madly. He began smashing things up in his tantrum. Alongside the report of the invasion was a flyer about the declaration of self-governance and their justifications. They also published his decree on that flyer.

Anyone with half a brain who read it would know that the theatre had no choice but to take such an action. The colonies' two corps fought hard without any aid from the mainland and finally managed to emerge victorious against the Shiksan aggressors. They even increased the number of colonies from seven to nine, establishing new territories for the kingdom.

Yet, right after the wars, Stellin XI not only didn't reward the brave soldiers that fought for the cause, he smacked a crime on them and wanted to punish them. He decreed for the five generals and the high-ranking officers to all be demoted and discharged as well as for the two irregular corps that fought in the war to be disbanded so that their spoils could be taken from them. Not only that, he even tried to scour wealth from the colonies, not caring about his own subjects at all.

The decree demanded the ambassadors to get the five years of tribute the theatre owed and slap a fine of ten times that amount on them. That alone was enough to convince the citizens that their king had gone mad like a dog with rabies.

The nobles were well aware that the colonies stopped paying the tribute to fund their war effort to resist the invasion. It was officially sanctioned by the ministry of the army with the signature and seal of the late king, Stellin X.

Yet, Stellin XI refused to acknowledge that sanction and demanded the colonies to pay the tribute plus the fine. It wasn't a hard number to calculate, but did the colonies' citizens really have that kind of wealth? The decree practically forced the populace of the colonies to object to Stellin XI's rule.

He immediately lost the mandate of the people. Since Thundercrash docked at Whitestag, they immediately sent light-cavalry troops to surround ten prefectures, the three sisters included, and began recruiting refugees and vagabonds. They didn't offend any locals and soon got the support of the local officials and bigwigs. It was only then that someone spread word of it to the royal capital.

No matter how Stellin XI roared or cursed, he could do nothing against the occupying Thundercrash. Nobody was willing to heed his decrees to punish the traitors. He couldn't send the royal guard, who was protecting Ibnist Plains, out either, in fear of risking the safety of his own life.

As for the corpsman of Griffon, Hereditary Marquis Julius Hou Hadro, he asked for military funding to be provided before any rebellion suppression was to be carried out. While Reddragon's corpsman, Lord Militant and Duke Siegfeld, was Stellin XI's father in law, he didn't have that good a relationship with him and immediately refused that decree.

Nobody was foolish enough to underestimate Thundercrash. While it was classified as an irregular corps, only one level higher than local garrisons, it being able to defeat ten Shiksan corps was a testament to their might. Not to mention, they were there to help the kingdom out with refugees so that they had a new chance at life in the colonies. There was no merit to interrupting their operation. Whether they were self-governing traitors or not, they didn't declare independence. So, what would be the point of seeking trouble with them?

As such, the three main Aueran corps sat and watched Thundercrash freely do their thing in those ten prefectures. The only unlucky one was the king, who had once more become a laughing stock of Freia. Nobody heeds his decrees and he could only numb himself to that thought with wine in his palace.

Chapter 482 - Sacred Light Era Year 595

Since the start of the 2nd month of Year 595, the autonomous region's fleet brought large equipment and skilled workers and their families from Whitestag nonstop. According to Colonel Moriad, the three sister prefectures and the other seven of the kingdom's prefectures no longer had a single running factory, both civilian and military alike. Any and all machinery was shipped back.

Claude had to admit that the most effective way to spur industrial development in the region was to steal. According to Sir Bernard and Weyblon, with these machines and workers, they could produce basically anything the kingdom could and even improve upon the quality and efficiency. Not to mention, they could sell it for a lower price locally to be more competitive.

After all, most of the industrial complexes on the mainland were controlled by the old and new nobility. They basically had a monopoly on products without any pressure from competition, so they could raise the prices for the highest profit margins. The intertwined web of interests between workers and managers in the hierarchy also encouraged corruption and wastage of human resources.

During the middle of the 5th month, the autonomous region's fleet that had made three voyages to and back took a month for resting and maintenance. When shipment began once more during the 6th month, they transported mostly refugees from the mainland. Eiblont sent a request for masses of food as Thundercrash managed to gather near a million refugees. They were quite pressed for food.

Claude could only remain at Port Cobius for the moment working on the sorting the industrial equipment between civilian and military installations, as well as which to give to Blackstone and which to give to the factory Weyblon managed. Civilian-use machinery fell to the jurisdiction of the region's administrative council.

There were quite a number of council members who wanted to curry favour with Claude to get a deal for those machines. They knew that this was the only chance they had to start a large factory for their household, which would allow them to keep their influence. It was the perfect family business to pass down.

Claude sometimes felt really troubled from all the busywork. Last year when Borkal returned, he told him about how many people with high-ranking positions in the royal guard were dissatisfied with Stellin XI's ineptness and were going to support Fourth Prince Fredrey instead. Yet, a year had passed and nothing had happened at all. Even Eiblont reported that everything was fine and the kingdom didn't deploy any troops against Thundercrash either.

That was the point he was most troubled about. He didn't think Borkal would lie to him and make up a story about the royal guard's dissatisfaction. Apart from recruiting skilled workers, refugees and stealing machinery, shaming the king was also one of their main objectives.

Sending troops to the mainland to rob them of their means of production and recruit their subjects was a rather sound slap on Stellin XI's face. He had lost all repute that he still had remaining and was labelled incompetent, foolish and whimsical. He lost all the dignity and respect of the nobles and his ministers.

Under such circumstances, it shouldn't be hard for the royal guard's brass to replace him with the fourth prince, yet why was no action taken? Wasn't that the best time to do so?

What Claude didn't understand was the royal guard was also complaining about Thundercrash. The royal guard was just about ready to stage a coup for the fourth prince, yet Thundercrash arrived right before their plans and conquered ten prefectures before sending their troops all the way to the border of Ibnist Plains.

Some strongholds the royal guard held at the outskirts of the plains could see Thundercrash's light cavalry in the area. While they didn't show any hostile intentions and were only recruiting refugees and spreading the good news of the autonomous region, the royal guard's defenders could do nothing but prepare as if they were going to fight a large battle.

Thundercrash's arrival had interrupted the royal guard's plans for a coup. They didn't know whether Thundercrash had intentionally chosen that time to arrive to disrupt them and were now regretting secretly revealing their plans to the theatre's representative back then. Initially, all they wanted to do was to get the theatre's cooperation to acknowledge Fredrey as king once he ascended to the throne.

Yet, not only did the theatre change into an autonomous region, it also deployed troops on the mainland. The royal guard brass didn't know whether they should continue with their plans. During those times, they couldn't trust any other corps, especially not Thundercrash from the colonies. Even if they claimed to not be against the kingdom but the king and appeared to share the same goal, the royal guard's brass didn't dare let their guard down.

They only knew him superficially, after all. The worst possible case was that, after pushing Stellin XI off for Prince Fredrey, Thundercrash would attack the royal guard with the justification of stopping the coup before sending their troops to storm Ibnist Plains. The mere thought was mind numbing.

So, the old nobility that stood behind the royal guard had their men stay put to watch Thundercrash loot and recruit. It seemed that they wouldn't stay there for long, so the royal guard could hold their coup after Thundercrash left. All they needed was patience and time.

It wasn't that they didn't try to make contact with Thundercrash. They believed what Eiblont said about only coming here to help the kingdom with refugees and that they would retreat back to the autonomous region soon. However, the royal guard decided they should not act rashly so long as Thundercrash was on the mainland.

When the fleet once more set out during the 6th month to transport a batch of 300 thousand plus refugees, Claude was told about Reddragon itching to make a move. Based on intel from Griffon and the royal guard, Stellin XI seemed to think there was still something he could salvage. He scoured the people of Ibnist Plains once more for some war funds and handed them to his father-in-law, Duke Siegfeld, to get Reddragon to attack the traitorous troops of Thundercrash.

This was triggered when Thundercrash started their gradual retreat from the kingdom. They had taken most of what they wanted anyway and the refugees they recruited were waiting at Whitestag for the ships to arrive. Some local officials or rich folk even packed up and tagged along with Thundercrash as they retreated, worried that the king would once more send his men to charge them for aiding the enemy once they left.

Perhaps the decrease of deployed troops gave Stellin XI the wrong impression that Thundercrash was being burdened by all the refugees and didn't have a choice but to start their retreat. It gave him a sliver of hope to crush them and re-establish his royal reputation.

He left that hope with his father-in-law. While his wife had died long ago from giving birth, his father-in-law didn't have a thing to say about it. Without his support, Stellin XI would've never been able to defeat Prince Hansbach in the fight for the throne. Reddragon was still among his more reliable corps.

It was quite laughable, though. He trusted the royal guard the most, given that they were historically the most powerful corps of the kingdom. However, its internal hierarchy and factions were incredibly complex. Prince Hansbach had wanted to purge the old nobility from the royal guard, which caused them to oppose him and get Prince Wedrick on the throne instead.

But now, the brass of the royal guard regretted their choice of a king. Stellin XI simply didn't command the same loyalty of the men, especially with him putting his trust in the new nobility and alienating the old nobility, which caused many officials in the kingdom to feel rather dissatisfied.

It wasn't that he wasn't aware of that, however, but he believed he would retain the royal guard's loyalty so long as he was king. Since the founding of Aueras three centuries ago, the royal guard had always been the royal family's most trusted unit. So, he left the matter of fighting to the other corps. Now, what he has to do as king was to deal with the other two main corps that weren't heeding his decrees.

However, Griffon didn't heed the call to arms and demanded military funding be provided in advance. It didn't seem to be a good deal, so after Stellin XI considered it a little more, he decided his father-in-law's corps was much more reliable. Their family ties was another bargaining chip he could use in his negotiation with him. No matter the circumstances, what Thundercrash was doing was nothing short of treason. As a traditional military man, he should be intent on hunting the traitors down.

However, that battle everyone looked forward to was quickly over. Before Reddragon launched their attack at the frontlines, they were suddenly attacked by Thundercrash and crumbled within half a day. None of them could aim more accurately than the soldiers of Thundercrash, and their mortars didn't have as great a range or as much power as the colonies' ones either. Even the quality of the soldiers and their fighting spirit couldn't compare. They didn't hold even a single competitive advantage.

Their cavalry was even less worth mentioning. The mobility of Thundercrash's cavalry eclipsed that of Reddragon fewfold, causing them to be completely unable to resist Thundercrash's attacks. Faced with the endless waves of attacks, the troops of Reddragon had this feeling that they were fighting a force far larger than their own. Without proper fortifications and defences, they quickly fell and ended up captive to Thundercrash.

The officers of Reddragon that managed to escape to Ibnist Plains after much effort let their tears fall along with Duke Siegfeld, their Lord Militant. Of the 65 thousand men they left with, less than seven thousand returned. It was an utter and complete defeat that cost the kingdom one main corps. This was the wake-up call they needed about the might of the colonies' two irregular corps. They finally understood why they won in the colonial wars.

Fortunately, Thundercrash didn't ship the captives back to the autonomous region and instead released all of them while also giving medical treatment to those injured on the battlefield. They also collected the corpses of the dead and handed them to officers from Reddragon that came forward to claim it. They even returned the ammunition and firearms they captured on the battlefield.

In the end, ten thousand Reddragon troops were killed and around 20 thousand were injured to varying degrees. Effectively, half their number was incapacitated. The corpsman, Lord Militant Siegfeld, was so humiliated he didn't bother going to the royal capital. Instead, he returned directly to his camp with the remnants of his corps to lick his wounds.

One benefit from the battle was Thundercrash earned the goodwill of the royal guard and Griffon. Officers from those two corps came to better their relationship with Thundercrash unbeknownst to one another. The new rifles and mortars also entered their sights. However, they merely memorised the core concepts to try to copy them themselves rather than take any back with them in fear of Thundercrash's might.

Eiblont's conclusive report soon made its way to Claude. He wasn't surprised about the results of the battle, which were almost a given. While Reddragon was one of the three main corps of Aueras, they were an infantry corps. Being attacked on the plains by a cavalry corps all of a sudden without fortifications could only result in defeat.

Not to mention, their weapons were far too powerful. The Sonia 591s could fire a few times faster than the muskets Reddragon was still armed with. Had both sides still had normal muskets, Reddragon's casualties wouldn't have been so heavy. It didn't help that information about their marching path and camping location was leaked by the royal guard, making their defeat set in stone before the battle even started.

After that battle, Thundercrash's plans continued without resistance on the mainland. Once they retreated from a prefecture, Griffon quickly came to reclaim it. The two corps had an unspoken agreement. To Griffon's delight, some order returned to the prefectures now that the burdensome refugees were gone. Things did seem to start to recover. At the very least, somebody started to plant winter wheat in the farms and fields outside the towns and cities.

Year 595 was quite the peaceful year for Claude where he carried out massive developments in the autonomous region. Thanks to the equipment shipped here from the kingdom, about a hundred large factories were built within one year. It greatly increased the production capabilities of the region, which also meant a great amount of tax collected.

Construction of the railroad from Vebator to Cromwell had begun, ushering in a new transportation paradigm for the region. In the coming three years, the executive committee of the council's top priority was to expand the railroads to other towns and cities for even more convenience for the flow of goods. It would take a month on horseback at least to travel from Aduras in the far south to Loki Mountains in the far north, but the journey could be shortened to just one week with railroads.

Apart from the machines, they also managed to build a large metal refinery for the production of various metals and alloys. The refugees recruited also number up to 1.6 million, which further relieves the lack of manpower in the region.

However, at the end of the year, a piece of news from the western coast frustrated Claude and the rest greatly, though there was nothing they could do about it. It said that Shiks, Nasri and Canas sent eight corps to Aueras to take back the territory they conquered during the five-year war. They claimed to want to help Rimodra and Sidins restore their nations.

Chapter 483 - The Union Rises

The autonomous region hadn't received word about the newly conquered territories of the kingdom for quite some time. They only got word that Prince Hansbach was assassinated as he was retreating to the new territories. Among the territory occupied by Bluefeather was that of the former Duchy of Rimodra. The other three standing corps each occupied a former duchy's territory respectively.

A famous publication at the western coast, 'Spearhead Forums', once published a discussion piece about the chaotic battle that would ensue between Aueras' four corps that would allow the first prince to declare independence from Aueras. Naturally, the assumption was the four corps weren't compromised by outside influences. But in practice, that was impossible.

Compared to the kingdom's traditional territory, the new territories were surrounded by enemies on all sides. When Hansbach was still alive, he could still hold the fort. But his assassination caused the internal factions of his army to fracture. None of his four corpsmen were willing to choose another as their leader and they were even suggesting unfit candidates as the prince's successor. Had it not been for the bad state of the territories, Nasri and Canas would've taken them for themselves and chased the four corps out.

Sidins, Rimodra, and Askilin were exterminated during the five-year war. Their territories were absorbed into Aueras, but both sides suffered crippling losses. Because of the losses, despite the vast swaths of territory Aueras gained, it could not lay claim to being the clear victor. Its weakness at the end of the war also sowed the seeds for its future civil war.

Among the exterminated duchies, apart from Duke Askilin that surrendered, Sidins and Rimodra escaped the moment the situation turned south with their wealth and families to Nasri. Their desire to restore their nations was strong and they had been constantly inciting rebels in the new territories to cause trouble for Aueras. After all, Nasri and Canas suffered huge losses to aid them as well.

Since the Aueran civil war ravaged the new territories, Nasri and Canas merely watched and didn't involve themselves in the war. Nasri, being Aueras' archnemesis, was quite satisfied with the current state of things. They could achieve all their goals without having to go to war themselves.

The foolish Stellin XI even returned the four border prefectures Aueras took from Nasri in a war six decades ago so that the two nations would no longer have territory to fight over. At the same time, Aueras also loaned from Nasri three large sums of money to aid in the war effort which amounted to about 4.8 million crowns. The payments would be made in the next three, five and five years respectively and total up to eight million crowns with interest.

But Stellin XI couldn't pay his debts on time and borrowed loans from Nasri to cover the interest alone. It was almost certain, given what he'd done thus far. The moment he borrowed more than 20 million, it would mean that Nasri effectively controlled the economy of the whole of Aueras.

Unlike Nasri, Canas had no ability to apply pressure on Aueras at all. Back then, they rented a voluntary 'mercenary' corps to Shiks formed from discharged soldiers, at least, that was the excuse. In actuality, they were the most elite light-cavalry corps of the duchy. Since they were exterminated by Ranger, however, Canas was even worse off than it was after the war.

Canas had only had two light-cavalry corps at the time. They were forced to rent one of them to Shiks. Before the war, the four duchies could help each other out economically, but three of the duchies were exterminated in the war. Back then, the livestock market Canas had access to was no more. They weren't able to keep two corps of troops given their financial situation.

Little did they know that the corps they rented out would be completely exterminated on Nubissia. Even though Shiks paid them a huge sum to make up for it, it still heavily decreased Canas' military might. So, they had no choice but to sit on the sidelines during the Aueran civil war. It wasn't that they didn't want to help the other two duchies rebuild. They simply weren't confident enough to get into the fray.

Hansbach was quite deserving of his reputation as an amazing commander. His troops were strong and even after his death; the four corps of his wouldn't just crumble out of nowhere. Not to mention, the troops were being driven mad like rabid dogs for not being able to find the assassin, so Canas wouldn't provoke them at such a crucial time. They could only stay patient and spend another year in the newly conquered territories.

Currently, there were two famous jokes on Freia. One was Majid III, who started the war on the colonies and spent the stockpile of the Shiksan treasury in the past two decades. Additionally, they lost ten corps amounting to a million troops. It was a losing scenario through and through.

Ever since becoming king, Stellin XI not only didn't even attempt to fix things, he doubled down on the balls and parties. He also charged every supporter of the first prince for treason to scour their wealth for himself and causing quite a lot of distress to build up among his people. In the end, he forced the colonies to declare autonomy and deploy troops on the mainland to rob it of its industrial equipment and recruit refugees.

To the Freians, Stellin XI was now a synonym for a mad king. Together with Majid III, they were known as the two crowned fools. Majid III was also known to his people as the bullish king who would never admit defeat and charge straight ahead without looking. Stellin XI was the unsalvageable rich kid who bankrupted his whole family.

Nobody expected that Duke Sidins and Duke Rimodra would turn to Shiks for their revenge. They went there to have an audience with Majid III and managed to convince him. Secretly, Nasri and Canas snuck four of their standing corps to attack the newly conquered territories during the 7th month after splitting into two forces.

The war came all too suddenly. Canas' forces attacked the former territory of Askilin. The four corps respectively were two Shiksan corps, one Canasian light-cavalry corps and a Nasrian standing corps. They formed the Army of the West to take the defending corps off guard. They weren't able to respond at all before the Canasians cut off their communications route. After the corps was split up, it was exterminated.

However, the most important location in that area was the Askilinian three southern prefectures where the industrial complexes were located. It was also the main stronghold of the first prince. There were fortified defence lines in that area that could allow one folk alone to hold back the allied army of three nations to buy the troops at the rear the precious time they needed.

However, Nasri's two standing corps and Shiks' own two formed the Army of the East and attacked the Sidins area from Nasri's border. Now, the first prince's forces were sandwiched in the middle. The corps stationed in old Sidins was completely unprepared for such a sudden strike and were overwhelmed instantly.

Only Bluefeather, that was stationed at old Rimodra, managed to bravely resist. But against enemies of superior numbers and their endless source of mortars, Bluefeather's resistance only lasted half a month before they were eliminated. The only standing corps still defending the three southern prefectures also held on for some time, but they fought in retreat, escaping after suffering the loss of only two lines' worth of men.

The war lasted but two months. Shiks, Nasri, and Canas mobilised eight corps between them and eliminated the four understrength Aueran corps. Their army stormed the new territories in a pincer, wiping them clean. Majid III had finally made his troops' name.

They lost 50 thousand men in the war, only half that of the First Prince, and captured another 100 thousand. Only some 20 thousand Aueran troops escaped, all of them into the mountains where they turned into bandits and highwaymen. Freia's kingdoms were flabbergasted. The Aueran throne didn't so much as peep, however, despite owning the territories. Stellin XI happily celebrated his brother's demise in the relative privacy of his palace with a grand banquet.

On the 5th of the 9th month, the Duchy of Sidins returned to Freian maps. So did Rimodra on the 21st of the 10th month. Askilin's territory, however, was annexed by Shiks. Majid III proclaimed it was only just that he should gain some land on the mainland since he'd not gotten anything for his efforts in the colonies.

On the 18th of the 11th month, Shiks, Nasri, Canas, Rimodra, and Sidins announced the formation of the Union of Eastern Freia (UEF). Although the members remained politically independent of one another where affairs internal to each member were concerned, they would operate mostly as a single block to any outside kingdoms, and would allow their currencies be used in territories of member nations. Any aggressive action against any member nations would thus be treated as an act against the entire union.

"It's obvious the Union is trying to eliminate Aueras! It's just a rehash of the Alliance from back then!" Bolonik said with a grim look.

The ones with him were troops that also participated in the five-year war in Eastern Freia. They also knew what the old general was referring to. The Eastern Freian Union just so happened to exclude Aueras, so their intentions couldn't be clearer. Back during Stellin X's reign, the other nations didn't really care much about the Alliance and their nations.

But now, it was completely different. With that failure of a king on the Aueran throne and the civil war just having wrapped up, Aueras lost much of its might, especially with the king squeezing his people for wealth. The UEF's formation was clearly done with ill intentions for the Auerans. Aueras now faced a serious threat of extinction.

Claude himself was also on the edge of his seat. Transmigrator he might be, but he had been in this world for at least 20 years and grew fond of it. He was also now used to his authority and position. He had fought through thick and thin, bullet and blood for the sake of the kingdom. He came to unconsciously see himself as a proud Aueran soldier. As such, he also felt his hostility festering at hearing what Bolonik just said.

However, what use would there be for them to panic there? Both Shiks and Nasri used to be on the losing side against Aueras. They only managed to stand back up because Shiks got involved. Even so, what could the autonomous region do about it? To be fair, they were the ones who cut ties with the kingdom. As long as Stellin XI sat on the throne, the hostile relationship between them would never improve.

Soon, the 2nd month of Year 596 came. Thundercrash's last batch of refugees arrived safely and were escorted back to the region. The mass migration operation officially came to an end.

When Eiblont came back, he brought Claude a letter from the linesman of Griffon, Marquis Julius Hou Hadro. The letter mentioned that Griffon would soon be stationed in Whitestag to prevent attacks from the enemies and Blacksail at the coastal area. He also expressed his desire to resume trade with the autonomous region at fair market prices, with the only condition that the region would only trade exclusively with Griffon. They hoped to use the profits from the trade to make up for their empty ranks.

In actuality, Griffon was just trying to monopolise the kingdom's trade. Claude smiled and left it to the council to deal with it. As long as profit was present, merchants would immediately join in. But with Bolonik and Skri dealing with that, Claude didn't have to worry about it.

His main focus now lies in the expansion of Blackstone Arms Factory as well as Sonia and Angelina's weapons development. Currently, the explosive shot and rockets were being tested with light-infantry cannons. There was progress with the explosive shots and the new infantry cannons entered the design phase of development. There was also great progress with the rockets.

Another piece of good news was after the success of Liboyd's train. He dove back into researching steam power. So far, he managed to make a near-shore boat with a steam engine and add metal plating armour to a long-distance transport vessel before testing out what kind of power a steam engine driving that ship would require.

On the 21st of the 3rd month just as Claude was about to go to Port Patres to witness the steamship testing, a carrier eagle came with an urgent letter from headquarters. Word was there was a coup in the royal capital with Stellin XI being shot dead in his quarters. Fourth Prince Fredrey had been elected by the royal guard as the next ruler, King Fredrey I.

Chapter 484 - Request and Reply

The sudden coup from the royal guard to push the fourth prince to the throne was quite unexpected. Claude had to storm his brain for quite a while only to realise that his deployment of Thundercrash on the mainland had interrupted the royal guard corps' plans by a whole year. It seemed that the royal guard was deeply suspicious of the autonomous region. While they weren't outright hostile, they didn't seem inclined to play friendly either.

The other unexpected thing was how Stellin XI would actually be shot dead in his quarters in the crossfire. Usually, a coup like that would see the king imprisoned for life or forced to go into exile. But they outright killed Stellin XI, their monarch and biological brother of Fredrey.

Bolonik was quite happy and immediately sent a congratulatory ambassador mission to the royal capital. Borkal wasn't the one who represented this time, but rather, a few members of the governing council. Bernard was there as the leader of the mission.

Bolonik hoped that the autonomous region could restore their relationship with the kingdom back to normal like when Stellin X reigned. That was to say, to have free movement of people and win-win economic development.

Claude was rather lukewarm about the gesture of goodwill the autonomous region was trying to send. He suspected that the new king, Fredrey I, might not necessarily be up to the task of stabilising the kingdom. Since Stellin XI's death, Claude believed the fourth prince would have no way to hold the royal guard firm in his command. Doing so would have him remembered for fratricide and he definitely wouldn't have wanted that for himself.

From the 3rd to the 6th month, much news about the royal capital came from Griffon in Whitestag. Since Fredrey I's ascension, he made three changes in policy. The first was the abolishment of Stellin XI's new seven new taxes, which came as a relief to the populace. The second was the absolution of the crimes and charges levied during Stellin XI's purge. The third was the encouraging of development and production of locals, as well as the deployment of the royal guard to wipe out the bandits in the area to restore order to the kingdom.

The new king did seem rather decent based on the first moves he made. He gained some good repute among the populace as well. However, when the ambassadors of the region returned during the 7th month, they brought bad news. The requests the kingdom made were rather difficult for the council members to accept. Claude, of all people, was even more unwilling to accept the ministry of the army's conditions.

Based on what Bernard and the rest reported, Fredrey I was a puppet king. The real power lay with the old nobility. Their demands were excessive to the council members as they still regarded the colonies in an old light.

Their first demand was that the colonies were to renounce their autonomy. The colonies were to be just 'the colonies' once again. Claude might have been willing to compromise to that extent were that all they demanded, but they also demanded the council be disbanded. Naturally this was utterly unacceptable.

They also demanded all tithes be resumed. If there were any lingering doubts as to how the kingdom viewed the colonies, this did away with them. They demanded the colonies pay an annual tithe of 500 thousand crowns. Again, were that the extent of their demand it would not have been unacceptable, since the colonies averaged two million crowns in profits a year, however, they also demanded seven tenths of all ore mined within the colonies' territories.

Their third demand was a direct slap to the autonomous region. They demanded all control be handed to the civilian government. Part of the end of military rule was that Thundercrash and Monolith were to be shrunk to mere folks. They could keep their names, but they were to be completely subordinated to the ministry of the army.

The fourth demand was that the fleet, and every open ocean-capable vessel in it, be subordinated to the ministry of the navy. The fleet was also to be named Whitewhale, halved in size, and the discharged men were to form a coastal patrol flotilla.

Finally, they demanded all technological developments, plans, and other knowledge, especially of a military nature, be handed over to the respective ministries. They'd seen the power of the rifles, and they were not about to let them slip out of their grasp.

Both old and new nobility had at least this in common: they were beyond greedy. The only thing old nobility did better than the new was restraint at appropriate times, unlike the new nobility who threw their weight around without any regard. Their current priorities were to restore production and order on the mainland to stabilise the kingdom and push for economic development.

Yet, they still saw the autonomous region in the same light, thinking that those territories were under direct jurisdiction of the royal family. They were still trying the old suppress-and-rob trick. Based on their first two demands, it was obvious they were trying to bring back the old days when the colonies were slave to the mainland. They hated the formation of the autonomous region and the progress and changes that happened out of their control.

Bernard said the royal capital told the ambassadors that if the region agreed to those demands, the king would absolve the region for their crimes of stealing the kingdom's industrial equipment and people as well as their declaration of self-governance.

As for the five generals and soldiers of the corps, they would be given their due reward for their contributions in the colonial wars personally by the king. Claude and Bolonik, for instance, had a good chance of being promoted to full generals and receiving more senior Titles. Skri, Birkin, and Eiblont were no exception.

Claude laughed dryly at the piss-poor attempt at temptation. They didn't even have anything good to offer and couldn't move them in the slightest. While Bolonik was trying to be a loyal subject of the kingdom the best he could, his face turned cold after he heard Bernard's reward. It practically spelled out his disagreement.

"Ridiculous!" Eiblont was the first one to let loose. "What do those bigwigs in the royal capital think we are?! Dogs wagging our tails and begging them for food?! Why should we downsize when our two corps are obviously much stronger than theirs? They should be the one to downsize!"

"By the way, I forgot to mention something," Bernard said, "When we returned, we heard the royal guard was trying to get another folk to form a grand corps with four folks. Their total number will be equal to our two main battle corps."

The royal guard already had three folks in their ranks. They would leave one behind to guard the royal capital every time they deployed. Adding another folk to their ranks would bring their total up to around 100 thousand, more or less the amount of Thundercrash and Monolith combined. If they added another garrison folk down the line, they would be able to fight two corps on their own.

"Didn't they say the national treasury's been emptied?" Skri asked, curious, "Where's the royal guard getting the funds?"

Bernard sighed.

"The royal guard's coup was far too sudden. Nobody could've predicted it. During the coup, they sealed off the whole royal capital and not a single one of the new nobility on Stellin XI's side managed to escape. They were all captured. When we arrived at the royal capital, we heard rumours that all their assets were seized, amounting to a total of nearly ten million crowns.

"That's why the kingdom made those three policy changes to remove the seven taxes to decrease the burden on the people. On the day of the announcement, the citizens of the royal capital cheered and paraded in the streets and thanked Fredrey I for his benevolence. In fact, all that had happened was the royal guard managed to gather a huge fortune from the new nobility. If they use it wisely, it'll be able to last the kingdom three years, which should be enough time for the kingdom's economy to return to normal."

"How many of the new nobility were captured?" Skri asked.

Bernard shook his head and said, "I'm not too sure myself. A few hundred houses, perhaps. I read that only 45 were punished with hanging for their crimes and the other vassal houses were stripped of their status and sent to the labour camps."

Skri gave it some thought and said, "Then it shouldn't be just ten million crowns. The ambassadors that we captured were crying and begging to be let free for a ransom of 300 thousand crowns to be sent back to the mainland. If the new nobility's purge included noble houses like those, then our new king really made a killing this time."

Bolonik slammed the desk angrily, interrupting Skri and Bernard's discussion. "Stop going off on a tangent. What are your thoughts on the demands? Let me state first that I am against them. Who do they think we are?! The demand for our new rifles alone is reason enough to reject them! Claude, what say you?"

"Me?--" Claude shrugged. "--There's nothing to say about this. The old nobility are already letting it get to their heads so soon after coming to power. Do they really think they can handle us? Just refuse them."

Other things aside, the first and second demands alone wouldn't be passed by the council. The council members just got to be able to run things, so who would be willing to be bossed around again?

Not to mention, the patrol fleet was formed from the spoils of the two corps and never belonged to the ministry of the navy in the first place. The theatre had reformed the captives of the Alliance's fleet into their own fleet to patrol the region's waters and invested much funding into its formation. The royal capital would only get the fleet without paying a single penny in their dreams. Perhaps they were still holding hopes for the reestablishment of the shipping routes to the colonies.

Their demand for the Sonia 591s, the sole thing that offered the region a significant survival advantage, would definitely come to the objection of most of the council, to say no more about the five generals. Who would hand their trump cards to a possible opponent?

The mortars alone were the prime example of what would happen. Once Claude allowed the old nobility to make their own mortars, the other Freian nations began coming up with forgeries, which came back to bite the theatre in the rear when Shiks overwhelmed them with their crude, but effective mortars. Nobody would be willing to suffer a loss of that magnitude ever again.

Though, Claude didn't personally didn't mind if the rifles were leaked. The true key to cracking the rifles lay in the cartridges and the special gunpowder Sonia invented. The recipe was kept top secret and the only ones who knew how to make them were Angelina and her students. Each time, they made a large barrel that could last more than ten days of cartridge production. Each cartridge only had to use a pinch of the powder.

Without the special mix, the cartridges would easily misfire. Misfiring new rifles would be no more useful than a spear. Claude could live with giving the royal capital new rifles, but never the recipe for the powder. Then again, there was still a possibility other nations would know how to make their own forgeries once the new rifles ended up in the hands of the old nobility.

Claude didn't dare to bet that there was no person who could create something similar enough to decrease the rate of misfire. Should that really come to pass, he wouldn't even have any tears left to shed. So, he decided he couldn't allow the demand to be followed through.

"How should we respond to the demands?" Bernard asked.

Claude chuckled. "Why do we even have to respond to what they say? We'll give them a set of demands we're willing to compromise on and that it. We're going to bargain like we do at the markets. They make an offer, and we make a counteroffer. If we can't agree on the terms, we can go our own respective ways."

"Alright, let's leave it at that. Let us discuss what sort of conditions we'll have for the royal capital," Bolonik decided.

Soon, the executive committee came up with a response. They agreed to change the designation from autonomous region back to the colonies, but insisted that the self-governing council and war administration be kept in place. Additionally, they agreed to pay the 500-thousand-crown tribute. However, mineral ores had to be bought by the kingdom, though at a discounted price of 70 percent.

As for the two corps of the region, they would fund themselves and remain under their own jurisdiction as they had been decreed to protect the colonies by Stellin X. For the calculation of merits earned during the war, the royal capital was urged to hurry up with the process instead of dallying and fiddling around with it.

Regarding the fleet, it was the spoils of the colonial troops and was now under the jurisdiction of the war administration. While they could help the kingdom's ministry of the navy form their own new fleet, they refused to hand their own fleet to the ministry. The new rifles weren't brought up at all. It was a clear sign for the nobles to forget their ludicrous ideas and move on.

"What if they don't agree?" Bernard asked.

"We'll leave them hanging then. It's not that we have to rely on the mainland for anything now anyway. The most they can do is to not give us our promotions, not that that would affect us in the least. Our troops are long used to the unfair treatment by the royal capital. It would be surprising if they really agreed to our terms. I'm sure I'll start to wonder if the sun will rise from the west next," Claude plainly said.

Little did he know that the response they sent sunk like a rock into the sea. There wasn't the slightest bit of an echo from the kingdom. However, Griffon's corpsman, General Hadro, wrote a letter to Claude from Whitestag that the bigwigs were flaring with rage and calling the autonomous region traitors, proclaiming that they would be the kingdom's first target to punish after they recovered.

Chapter 485 - Troubling Household Matters

"Our region's been selling goods to the colonies along the western coast since the start of last year. Due to our competitive pricing and the convenience of shipping, the merchants there often order goods from us, but that came to the displeasure of the officials of those colonies. They've levied many tariffs on us as a result."

Skri was the one giving the report. Being in charge of the region's financial matters, he was giving a concluding report on the region's finances of Year 597.

Thanks to Claude's robbing of the mainland's industrial equipment, about a hundred factories were started in the region. They could produce anything the mainland could. After conquering the market in their own territories, they set their sights for the western coasts.

Usually, colonies of Freian nations on Nubissia had the same policies. They would produce ore and other resources as well as serve as a market for their nation's own products. However, the wide Tranquil Ocean separating the two continents made it so that only one to two trade voyages could be made each year. As a result, the demand for goods couldn't be met even after the prices have doubled or tripled.

Yet, the autonomous region could now produce their own goods. The smugglers were the ones who first discovered that business avenue and ordered large amounts of goods from the autonomous region to be resold in the colonies of the western coast, causing sales of the products from the colonies' nations to fall. In terms of price and ordering time, they weren't a match for the autonomous region's.

The governments of those colonies had no choice. Who would happily allow competing products from another nation eat into their profits? The local officials thus levied tariffs, though that didn't solve the root of the problem and instead led to a spike in smuggling. It didn't harm the autonomous region much at all.

The reason for that was the region itself wasn't in charge of the shipment of the goods. The merchants from the western coast themselves went to the region to make their orders and take them back to the western coast to sell themselves. As such, the tariffs only affected the merchants themselves rather than the region.

"Currently, our best-selling product is our smokes, followed by leather goods and gold and silverware. As for machines, smaller steam and air engines are rather popular. Since we categorised the goods under different brands, our products have exploded in popularity at the western coast and Freia," reported Skri. The audience cheered and applauded.

Claude didn't think the sales of cigars and cigarettes would be that impressive. They were produced and immediately shipped, never having to remain in warehouses. Now, Claude had no choice but to start another factory with the council members joining as shareholders and House Ferd owning the largest share of 15 percent to satisfy market demand.

That was the third large venture the council members invested themselves in. The past two were the overseas bank and the railroad company. Claude's personal tobacco factory only produced three brands. The first was the cigar brand, Moonshadow, the second was Herb for cigarettes targeted at women, and the last was a brand for luxury cigarettes, Flamedragon. The tobacco factories the investors were involved in produced lower-quality products. There were two brands, Pegasus and Seaman respectively.

Nowadays, Claude was far beyond the hopes his father Morssen had placed on him before his death. Morssen only wanted to gain some merit by starting a new trade route for an honorary baron Title so that he could further his career as a mayor and maybe become a member of the House of Dignitarians. That way, he could make the Ferd household be the most prestigious family in Whitestag.

But Claude now had the writ to command the troops of the autonomous region and was practically uncontested there. House Ferd was now the most influential and reputable households in the region. Guests flocked to Ferd Manor in Lanu to visit Claude or his mother. There were even some council members who wanted to come curry favour with Kefnie. Nowadays, Madam Ferd often lamented how proud Morssen would be had he still been alive.

"Our railroad company has completed work on a route linking Vebator at the north to Cromwell and Balingana. It's already in use and shows great promise. The railroad connecting the more southern states of Robisto, Anfiston, Mormaly, Tyrrsim and Aduras is also nearing completion. I believe we will start to make our investment back soon enough.

"In the coming two to three years, we still have to build another railroad to connect the region as a whole. The railroad will be laid along the coast. So far, the survey work has completed and work on it will begin soon. It will connect all coastal cities and towns to make transportation of goods in the region much faster," Bolonik reported. He was discussing their future development goals. The region planned to construct three railroads, and one of them had to be on the coastline to improve the speed of transporting ocean goods and mobilising troops.

Since the latter half of Year 596 to Year 597's end, development in the region went on the fast track. With the wars over and no more pressure and trouble from the mainland, the region enjoyed two years of peaceful development towards a prosperous future.

Currently, the four states that have populations above a million were Cromwell, Balingana, Anfiston and Tyrrsim. Among the other five, Loki Mountains had the smallest growth -- only around a town of 70 thousand where trade with the nikancha commenced. Among the 17 mines in the state, only three were being extracted. The miners were sourced from the captive labourers of the region, including the ambassadors and the marines captured in the past year.

Additionally, Aduras' population grew by around 100 thousand, while Vebator, Robisto and Mormaly's demographics didn't shift much. While the total population of the region encroached on seven million, there was still a great lack of manpower. That issue came up in council discussions more than once and they would send Claude to move another three million citizens from the mainland if they could.

Thankfully, they had near 500 thousand Shiksan captives that formed the backbone of the railroad's construction. Claude and Birkin promised to give them adequate food, clothing and residences if they worked hard and contributed to the region.

Not only could they get their fill of food with one meal each day containing meat, they would also be given a large pint of wheat ale if they finished their work quota and a monthly allowance. Basically, they were cheap labourers employed by the government. When they fell sick, they could take breaks and get treatment from apprentice herbalists. Some Shiksans were even considering living in the region after their labour terms ended.

The year-end briefing was held for two days. The first saw their mistakes and shortcomings discussed while the second went over possible future developments and evaluation of current project milestones. At night, they feasted before they went home to their families to start their 15-day-long break. They would only return to work on the 5th of the next year. Naturally, Claude still had to work in the military command centre and even check on his troops on new year's eve.

That year, the year-end briefing concluded like previous year's in the largest tavern in Lanu. The council went all out and reserved the tavern for three days. However, Bolonik wasn't too happy with the tavern and always felt annoyed attending the after-party at the tavern. So, he brought up building a large hall in a council meeting where functions of the council would be held. That way, they could hold their after-parties there and also have the privacy to discuss official matters away from prying ears.

The proposal was immediately approved unanimously and the budget that was given was double the initial amount. Some richer council members even wanted to donate more to make the hall even grander to make Bolonik's proposal worth remembering. They were even planning to name the hall Bolonik Hall.

Claude rode back to Ferd Manor with his escort and found the pregnant Kefnie talking to his pregnant sister. Kefnie was expecting her third child and Angelina had finally birthed her first after many years of marriage. She returned to Ferd Manor to let her pregnancy settle and left the research lab in Blackstone Arms Factory in the care of Sonia and her disciples.

The reason she decided to get pregnant at that time was her training in magic had reached the peak. She was now a peak five-ring rune magus. The only way for her to advance was to seek out ancient artifacts left behind from the lost magic civilisation. However, she was quite lukewarm about that prospect as she believed her current level of magic was more than enough. Searching for artifacts based on no real source but fairy tales was a huge waste of time.

Claude paled much in comparison to her. He was just barely at the edge of becoming a four-ring magus. He would still take a year or two before breaking through, and it was mostly thanks to him training on and off with no consistency. His high position drained most of his attention and energy, especially during wartime, so he had no mind to practice magic at all. Even Bloweyk's level was catching up to his.

In the past few days, there was some trouble at home and it concerned Bloweyk. Madam Ferd had spared no effort in coming up with fitting suitors for him, yet he didn't fancy even a single one of the ladies from affluent households of the council. Instead, he impregnated Adele, the boss girl of the orphans that lived in Anna Farmstead.

Adele was the daughter of an old soldier, Zoft, who died protecting Bloweyk on the battlefield in the war. Before his death, he asked Bloweyk to take care of his daughter, to which he agreed. After the war, Bloweyk went to seek Zoft's family out and found Adele and her siblings, who were living like street rats. To convince her to go along with him, he promised to take the other 20-odd war orphans with them. They finished the journey with an additional 40 or so.

Adele was only 14 when she was taken in. Nowadays, she was still the leader of the orphans in the farmstead and had grown to become 18. Angelina admired her toughness and capabilities and left most of the farmstead to her to manage. Only the heavens knew how Bloweyk managed to woo her, though. By the time her pregnancy started to show, the secret could no longer be kept. Only then did someone from the farmstead report to Madam Ferd about the matter.

She was, needless to say, fuming mad about the matter. She had spent so much effort introducing so many beautiful girls from affluent families to him, only for him to end up bedding a farm girl. Even if that girl's father saved his life, the Ferds had already more than made up for it by taking in his children. She forbade Bloweyk from taking such a lowly farm girl as his wife.

Claude didn't have much to comment about it. People changed, and so did his mother. Perhaps it was their current high standing that caused her to turn like that. Nowadays, she considered herself a noble lady after mingling with other members of high society and started to care more and more about their family reputation. Bloweyk was also the head of House Ferd in name, so she couldn't let him embarrass the whole family before members of high society.

As a result, she fell ill because of the matter. Bloweyk was even more stubborn and would rather stay in the farmstead to take care of Adele than return to Ferd Manor. Claude was quite frustrated himself. At home, he already had to care for two pregnant women, only for his brother to leave home and his mother to fall sick.

"Why aren't you two asleep yet? It's half till midnight, you know," Claude said as he removed his leather coat. Thankfully, the living room had central heating and wasn't that cold. The two women wouldn't be catching colds because of the weather.

"We slept too long in the afternoon and only woke up at five thirty. So, we can't sleep at all now," Kefnie said, "Want something to eat? I'll cook up something for you in the kitchen."

"No, thanks. I'm already full. I'll just go take a warm bath. By the way, is Mother getting better?"

"Same old. Don't go see her," Angelina snapped, "She's not sick at all. When you visit her, she'll sigh and moan like she's breathing her last breaths. But she's healthier than ever and can live easily for three more decades or so. When I brought dinner to her, she flipped out and blamed me for abruptly marrying Myjack and becoming a bad example for Blowk! She's driving me crazy... She's acting like House Ferd is some kind of ancient nobility when our grandfather was just a farmer-turned drunk alcoholic..."

Claude gave a resigned smile. "Let's not ruffle her feathers. You're pregnant now, so you might want to watch your mood. Mother's getting older and the years of being served and attended to caused her to let it get to her head. Even so, we're her children, so we can only tolerate her. If she's doing something inappropriate, there's nothing we can do but bear it. Don't take it to heart.

"I had told Blowk that he shouldn't care about what anyone says as long as he likes her. Just like shoes, you'll never know whether they're a good fit until you try them on, no matter how beautiful or expensive they are. Sometimes, they just don't fit no matter the price. As long as we are strong, there's no need to care about what others think. Perhaps Mother will change her mind when Adele finally gives birth..."

Claude sunk into his tub with a heavy heart and sigh. He saw the blue folder on his shelf and knew that it was the summary report Masonhughes had sent him. He didn't hand it in personally so as not to interrupt his meeting, so it appeared that it wasn't an urgent matter. It was still relatively peaceful.

Lazily, he picked up the folder and saw that it contained news from Whitestag about the royal capital. Nasri sent a few ambassadors to the royal capital to discuss the matter of the debt Aueras owed them. The late Stellin XI had taken three high-interest loans from Nasri and the due date for the payment was the 6th month of next year. The total sum amounted to eight million crowns.

Chapter 486 - The Hunt

Some six hundred men carrying heavy rucksacks just got off some smuggling boats. They took a spin around the docks before heading for the stone building which was called the sea checkpoint with frustration. That was the checkpoint all smugglers had to pass through after arriving in Port Cobius.

"Names?" a checkpoint officer in blue and black asked the six men.

"I am Gruya Feldi and the rest here are my companions. He's Mordani Jharlas, that's..."

The leader introduced his other comrades to the checkpoint officer.

However, the officer seemed most disinterested in their introduction. He only wrote down the leader's name in the form. "Where are you from and what's the name of your ship?"

"We're from Krusuya and we sailed here on the Silver Eel," Gruya said.

Krusuya was the colony of a southern Freian kingdom, Lesnia. It was among the earliest colonies to be developed and was about three to four times the size of Tyrrsim. There were three million Lesnians living there. The colony produced quality wool and camel-leather products and was also rich with wood and mineral resources.

Upon hearing that they came from Krusuya on the Silver Eel, the officer was certain they were smugglers and didn't ask anything else. He quickly noted the replies of the leader on the form and handed it to his colleague. The colleague copied the contents onto another form and stamped both the forms where the name was written before handing the copy to the first officer.

After checking that the copy was devoid of mistakes, the officer signed his name and put his own stamp on it before giving it to the leader. "The fee to cross is one riyas each. Keep the form well. If you run into any patrols, you can use it to prove your identity. Also, your form is only valid for three months. If you can't finish your business within that time, you'll have to request an extension at the constabulary and the civil office. However, the procedure is even more complicated and expensive."

The man put a silver coin on the counter. "Thanks. I don't need any change."

"Wait..." The officer checked the coin before getting his colleague to write them a receipt. He opened the drawer, put the coin in, and put four paper notes on the counter. "This is your change, take it. We're checkpoint officers of the region, not barmaids at the taverns. We don't need your tip. It's a slight to our position!"

"Alright, sorry. Still, thanks again, you guys," the leader apologised with an embarrassed nod. He picked the notes up and looked at them curiously. There were two types of notes among those he took -- three coloured dark silver with the words 'one riyas' on them, and one coloured greenish bronze, representing five sunars.

"These are paper notes issued by our region. They can be used like normal coins. If any merchant in the region refuses to take your paper notes, congratulations. You've just hit the jackpot. If you have proof that he refused to accept these notes in a transaction, you can sue him for a tenth of his property. It's a shame no fool like that has ever appeared in the region yet."

The checkpoint officer teased the leader of the troupe casually. He had seen his fair share of doubtful merchants that hadn't seen paper notes before. But normally, most smugglers took the notes with the mindset that they would take it back as souvenirs if they ended up unusable. After all, the printing was quite detailed and beautiful and they weren't worth much.

But once they realised how useful and convenient those paper notes were, the smugglers would be willing to go to the bank to have their coins exchanged for a stack of notes. Even as they were leaving, they would be hesitant to exchange them back for coins. It was said that the paper notes were usable now even in the colonies at the western coast that also faced a lack of low-value coins.

The leader stuffed the four notes in his pocket and nodded to the officer once more before preparing to leave with his group. Perhaps it was his sincerity that caused the officer to warn the man. "Here's a tip. It's best you put your weapon in the inn instead of carrying it around. Our region is really safe. If you have weapons on you, you'll draw the attention of constables easily."

The leader turned back to thank him once more before finally leaving.

"Not carrying weapons? What a joke! What if we meet enemies or that vile woman? Wouldn't we be nothing but defanged dogs by then? How would we fight back against them then?" the burly man beside the leader complained.

"You and your big mouth!" The leader glared at the man. "That officer is right. If it's safe there, we'll only draw attention by carrying weapons around. Don't forget what happened to squad three. They were mistaken as bandits by the garrison troops because of their loadout. The situation broke down into a firefight and they ended up all dead on the streets! Is that lesson not impactful enough?

"Our main priority now is to locate that vile woman. She's been out of our sights for half a month. We've been chasing her for almost three years from Freia all the way to the western coast. We have to kill her to avenge His Majesty! We won't stop chasing her to the ends of the world to kill her unless all of us are dead!"

The leader's expression grimmed. He could never forget that bloody night. Back then, these bodyguards relaxed their guard because their liege wanted to have a nice time with a woman of incredible visage. So, they widened the defence perimeter, only for that vile woman to take that chance to assassinate their liege! By the time they noticed something was off, they found that the woman was actually a secret magus! She managed to escape the heavy encirclement.

That was their biggest failure as personal bodyguards from the Watch. Nobody forgave them for their mistake. They were trained specifically to counter magical agents, yet their carelessness caused their liege to be killed.

As they knelt before his grave, the other frustrated officers balked.

"Why are you useless pieces of shit still alive?! If I were you I'd kill myself out of humiliation!"

But they didn't want to commit suicide; that was the easy way out. They wanted to hunt the woman down as well as the mastermind that directed her to kill their liege. They would cut their heads off to offer it to their dead liege at his grave before committing suicide themselves. However, that woman was far too cunning. After three years and a few confrontations, they still weren't able to achieve their goals. Instead, more than half of the forty of them were lost from all sorts of accidents. Now, only around twenty remained.

"Chief, don't get emotional," a kind-looking man advised, "That vile woman escaped to the western coast of Nubissia because she could no longer hide on Freia. While we suffered considerable losses, we managed to force her out of her hiding hole to here. This should be the last place she can hide. Once we find her, she'll have nowhere else to escape to. We'll definitely catch her and find out who the mastermind behind the assassination is..."

The leader took a deep breath and calmed down. His expression softened. "Thanks, Ike. It's my bad. You know me... When I think about that night... about His Majesty's corpse right in front of me... I just start to lose control... Let's go find a place to rest first. Go leave a mark for the comrades following behind.

"By the way, Ike, I recall that we also had informants from the Watch in the colonies. I wonder if they're still active. Take two people with you to try to establish contact. I wonder if they've been reinstated by the Watch back on the mainland. If we can reach them, they might be a huge help to us."

The round-faced man nodded. "Alright. Once we find a place, I'll take the others to go look around. Chief, look at the constables there eyeing us. If we're not standing at the checkpoint door, they would've come for us already. Let's settle down first before we--"

"It'll be fine. Watch me." The leader recovered his sharp wit and smiled as he walked towards the constables, the form from the checkpoint officer in hand. He bowed and handed the form to them as he joked and laughed before waving them goodbye as he thanked them for the work.

"Oh, Chief, how did you do it? They've gone back to ignoring us!" the round-faced man exclaimed.

The leader sighed. "The checkpoint officers were right. This place is indeed safe. The constables paid attention to us because of our large backpacks. It's obvious we have weapons inside, so I showed them the form and told them we're first-timers here. That came as no surprise to them. They merely warned us to not carry any ranged or heavy weapons in the cities to prevent being hurt unnecessarily by the constables in a commotion."

"Then, does that mean we can carry daggers?"

The leader nodded. "Arming swords and daggers are allowed. Just don't carry muskets or crossbows around. Just look at this form. We're registered as smugglers. Nobody cares about the firearms and crossbows on our ships, but we'd instantly be suspected for trying to start a conspiracy if we bring them into the cities. Just don't bring your custom muskets out. Your arming sword should be enough to defend yourself."

"Got it." The other five men nodded.

"Alright. Let's hail a carriage. The constables recommended Redstone Flower. It's a large inn in the south of the city. They said the food there tastes wonderful and the maidservants are really attentive. The price is also rather decent. Let's wait there for our other comrades to come."

......

The round-faced man left Redstone Flower with two others and hailed a carriage to an area near the city gates. He got off, paid, and started circling the buildings in the area. Half an hour later, he finally found two intersecting triangles on the base stone of a shop along the street. It looked like a child drew on the stone, but it was actually engraved into it upon closer inspection.

"Let's go inside to see if it's the one we're supposed to contact." The man took his companions into the shop and left after ten minutes. It was apparent that neither the owner nor the workers were his contacts.

"Let's go around and ask around about the shop for the landlord." The only thing he was certain about was the owner rented the shop rather than bought it. The landlord seemed to have another residence in the city.

In the evening, they went to an alley in the west part of the city and knocked on a small door.

"Who is it?" a voice rang.

"Does Mister Mybrom live here?" the man asked.

The voice didn't respond. What followed was the sound of rushed footsteps. A man in his fifties pushed the door opened and eyed the three. "Mister Mybrom doesn't live here, but his cousin, Dunbilus, lives here with his family."

The round-faced man smiled. "I wonder if Mister Dunbilus also has a younger brother called Kenriak who serves as Viscount Mulliot's butler?"

The old man breathed a sigh of relief. "That's right. He lives in the barony's castle, Whitefallsburg. You're here to deliver his letter, right? Come in for now."

The three entered a rather large yard on which three double-storey stone buildings were built.

The old man shut the door and turned to the three. "You're from the royal capital? Has the Watch been reformed?"

The leader shook his head, causing the old man to tense up. "Then who are you? How do you know about my orders from ten years ago?"

"We... we haven't been back to the royal capital for years... We aren't sure what's going on there." The round-faced man took out a hefty, black metal plate and handed it to the old man. "This is our identification. The other two have them too. We're members of the Watch."

The old man could tell their positions with one glance. "You're reserve Watchers. Official Watchers carry silver identification plates. What happened to cause reserve members to have to go on the field?"

"Let's talk inside. We've spent the whole afternoon looking for you and we're too worn out. I need some water... Why did an informant like you leave your contact point and moved here? Has the magus you were watching died?"

The old man sighed as he led them in. "I don't know if he's dead or not. The problem is that I don't even know where he is. A few years ago, there was an assassination incident caused by Greytower from Siklos here. After that, there was a huge investigation in the colonies. All magi living in seclusion were captured and taken away.

"That included the magus I was tasked to observe. He never returned. I tried to make a missing-persons report as a concerned neighbour, only to be rebuked for poking into top-secret business and warned to not look into it. If I went snooping, I was worried I would be captured, so I sent a report to the royal capital. However, I got no response at all.

"After that, the civil war broke out and the mainland cut off contact with the colonies. In the years I spent here, the colonies eventually declared self-governance. Some rich and powerful man took note of my house in the city and I had no choice but to rent it to him as a shop. You are the first of the Watch to contact me with the method we used ten years ago. I thought you were from the royal capital and came to set up another informant network here..."

The man wore an expression of melancholic nostalgia. "Back when Prince Hansbach retreated from the royal capital, more than half of the Watch chose to follow him. When the first prince returned to attack the royal capital from the sea and took it back, we found that the Watch was almost no more. The ones that remained were either hired as bodyguards or completely missing. Our warehouses were ransacked. We have no idea who did it.

"We lost a lot of members during the civil war, mostly from protecting the first prince from assassination attempts. When the prince ascended to the throne at the royal capital, we only had less than 60 left. Once His Majesty lost the battle and retreated from Whitestag, he got assassinated. There are only 20 plus of us now."

"Then what are you trying to achieve here? Don't tell me you want to assassinate the generals of the autonomous region? That's not something you're capable of. I don't want to get involved in that," the old man cautiously said.

"No..." The man shook his head and took out a small portrait. "While the generals here betrayed His Majesty, we have no intention of causing trouble. We're here to look for this woman. She should've arrived some half a month ago. Her whereabouts are still unknown.

"She's His Majesty's killer. We've been looking for her for the past three years. She's always managed to evade us and finally came here. We must definitely find her and avenge His Majesty. By the way... she has a small black dog with her..."

Chapter 487 - Tracking

Three days later, the old man found Redstone Flower. He was introduced by the round-faced man to his leader. The leader hoped that the old man could become his subordinate so he would have a reliable contact in Port Cobius, but the old man refused, citing that he didn't wish to be involved with the Watch anymore given his age. He was only giving a small helping hand.

"The woman you're looking for has been spotted," the old man said, "She has a black puppy with her. Seventeen days ago, which was the 11th of the 3rd month around ten in the morning, she was spotted getting off from a ferry, Lipton. She spent the afternoon in the city before hailing Rednose Badon's carriage on a long journey for the town of Ankanor. That's where the station at Tyrrsim is situated. She took a train to some other colony... Oh, they're called states now. You have to buy a ticket to take the railway."

"Railway? What is that?" one of the huge men asked.

"Well... how do I explain it... It's like two long iron bars side by side forming a sort of track. A train car at the front can pull tens of other cargo cars behind it and travel on that track. It can travel nonstop and shortens long journeys greatly. For example, it'll take half a month to travel from here to Lanu in Anfiston on horseback. However, it takes only three days by railway. It also makes transporting goods really quick and convenient. Each cargo car can carry up to 40 carriages' worth of goods. It's really popular with the merchants."

The leader whacked the man who asked the question on the face with a newspaper with a picture of the train. The paper was published at the end of last year, announcing the official start of operations of the railway in the four southern states. It also had a detailed description of how railways and trains worked and how it would revolutionise transportation.

"Read it yourself. Don't just play around with women when you're free," the leader chastised, before turning back to the old man. "You said the woman stayed in the city until the afternoon. Where did she go? Do you know who she met?"

The old man nodded. "She left the checkpoint building with her puppy and hailed a carriage to the shopping street in the east. She went to Ruist's Bookhandler to buy two travel guides. She told the owner that she was a herbalist that came here to buy some rare medicinal ingredients.

"After leaving the shop, she went to the restaurant the owner recommended her, Mills, to have some iron-plate-grilled beef. It happened to be the rainy season and the owner, Mills, was having his joints act up. The woman then used a kind of healing paste of her own making and helped soothe his joint pain. Mills then bought all the paste she had for eight crowns.

"When she left, someone asked Mills whether the paste really worked. He merely pointed at his knee and said it was really cooling and relieving. He no longer felt the sensation of ant bites and his knees no longer swell. That means he wouldn't have to fear cold and humid weather and no longer has to use a wheelchair due to his pain.

"In the past half month, many others with the same problem sought Mills out in hopes they can get some of that ointment from him. They even offered him a crown for a small box. The large bottle of paste he bought was enough for some 30 boxes. Everyone says Mills hit the jackpot, but he didn't sell too much. He treated it like his lifeline.

"When the woman left the restaurant, she went to an inn called Goldrose for a room. She took a bath and checked out to hail Badon's carriage before heading for Ankanor. She bought some food and drinks before leaving with her puppy immediately."

"It can't be... She's already gone for half a month, yet you still have such a detailed account about her moves here? You didn't make this up, did you?" the round-faced man said with a doubtful glance. In the half a day the woman spent in the city, she acted no different from a normal person apart from the commotion with Mills. How could the old man possibly know so much about her itinerary? Half a month had passed and many had no doubt forgotten about her already, even if they did meet her.

"Well, I can't do anything about it even if you don't believe me--" The old man shrugged. "--In fact, you were pretty lucky. The moment the woman got off the ferry, she caught someone's attention. A single female guest like that would easily become the target of the Three Hands that linger around the docks. The Brotherhood of Ruby and Wagas' Blackhand Alliance even got into a brawl over who could hunt that woman.

"It's too bad that after Wagas won the brawl and tailed the woman for a good half a day, he didn't find a good chance to act. He watched as the woman left in the carriage. Nowadays, the Blackhand Alliance have become the laughing stock of the Three Hands for letting such a delicious specimen go.

"The information I told you was from Blackhand members that tailed the woman. They knew where she was and what she did. They also said that her puppy was really odd. As if it was sentient, it ruined a few of the opportunities for them to act."

"Since Blackhand didn't manage to get their way by stealing, why didn't they just go rob her?" the man that was smacked with the newspaper asked.

The old man cackled but managed to hold back. He shook his head in disappointment.

"You've been here for three days but you still didn't notice how different this place is from the kingdom? I doubt you'll find a safer place in the kingdom than here. The people of the underworld here must use smarts and dexterity. You'll only be asking for trouble if you rob. In the worst case, you'll be shot dead on the streets."

"Is it really that strict?" the round-faced man pondered and said, "We've taken some casual walks around over the past few days and feel that it's pretty good for business here. Then again, I really didn't see any daylight brawls like you mentioned. What if we create a murder scene to try to frame that woman? We can make use of the authorities to capture her. Do you think it'll fly?"

The old man's face shifted immediately. "Don't involve me in your group suicide. I told you that it's different here. It's not like other colonies on Nubissia. You could use other colonies' authorities to track someone like that down because they want to close the case as quickly as possible, so they follow the clues about the woman you'll leave behind. They don't really care whether she's really the murderer.

"Here, however, cases like these are taken care of by the constabulary's investigative department. They are staffed with crime-solving experts there. Even if you leave traces behind, it'll be useless. You'll only fall into their trap. Just one look at the woman's itinerary and you'll know that she isn't the killer. They could use that woman or send someone disguised as her to capture you all."

"You make it sound so mystical..." the leader said in disbelief.

"Sigh... I can't do anything about it if you don't believe me. The autonomous region is completely different from the colonies of other regions. They're developing even faster than the mainland now. At least, I'm sure Freia doesn't have the monstrous railways. Even though you've only been here for the past three days, I dare say that your movements have all been marked down somewhere without you being aware.

"You're here as smugglers, so there aren't many restrictions on you. That's because there are countless smugglers swarming to the region to purchase goods to be sold at the western coast. It helps the region's economy, so smugglers get good treatment here. But if you're found not to be smugglers and instead members of the Watch, I'm sure you won't be able to take so much as a single step unhindered."

"Then how can we track that woman in the region?" the leader asked in frustration, "She left this city half a month ago. If she gets on the train at Ankanor, who knows which state she'll head to? How will we find her again? Back when we were on the western coast, we always framed her with murder to force her to go into hiding. When she runs, her whereabouts will show up..."

"You Watchers really are getting worse by the generation... Do you only know how to use such crude and bloody methods to hunt someone down? It's not too hard to track her down. A herbalist with a black puppy that's also a beautiful woman will surely leave a deep impression on others. Anyone that sees her can easily point you in her direction.

"What you have to do is to play the role of smugglers properly. Make sure to ask the constables, ticket salespeople, railway staff and cleaners about it. Praise this woman's prowess in herbalism and say you're trying to seek her out to find the mysterious medicinal paste for your father who suffers from serious joint pain. You can make a tearjerker with those points. Nobody would mind helping you find her.

"That's only on the surface. Under the hood, you can look for the hoodlums that linger around the train stations and threaten or tempt them. I'm sure they'll tell you of a way to find her. There's also the fact that female herbalists like her would get the attention of the local constables. If you get to meet someone high up in the constabulary and get their help, it wouldn't be hard to track her down."

The old man turned and prepared to leave. "This is my last time fulfilling my duty to the kingdom as a Watcher. Don't look for me in the future. I've moved and sold the shop to the one who rents it. I'm going to formally retire from this chaotic mess."

He waved and left.

It was only after a while that it occurred to the round-faced man that the old man wanted to leave because staying with them would be dangerous. Yet, he made it sound like he was doing them a huge favour and making a great sacrifice.

"Sheesh... This old man really is shameless. He's obviously forgotten about his duties as an informant... Watchers are required to help other Watchers unconditionally as long as they're still active..." he complained.

The leader gave a casual wave. "Forget it. We don't know if he can still be considered to be a Watcher. He's right. We were blinded by our desire for revenge and caused so many murders just to force that shameless woman out. Now that she's here in the region, we must be more careful. We can't be as reckless anymore.

"Let's try out what the old man suggested. Ike, take some men with you to Ankanor and ask for her whereabouts. The old man was right that we're attracting unwanted attention by squeezing 20 people into this inn. Also, Ike, make sure to also do some business like an actual smuggler and ask about local prices. Make it look like you're really doing market research."

"Alright, Chief. We'll get a carriage before heading to town."

"Chief, we don't have to sell anything else. We're sure to earn good money by dealing with the tobacco business alone." One long-faced man took out a pack of Seaman-branded cigarettes and tossed it onto the table. "These cigarettes are quite strong and a favourite of sailors and coachmen. It costs only two sunars here, but they sell for one riyas each on the western coast. It's five times the price."

The leader tore off the packaging and took one out. He then took out one of the two bamboo smoking tips included with the box and lit it in a practised motion before taking a deep puff. The rest of the cigarettes were soon shared among the rest. By the time the man snagged it back, there were only four of them left.

The leader puffed smoke out with a grim look. "Dilwa, don't forget that we're not really here to smuggle, but to find and kill that woman that humiliated us for life. We're only doing this as cover, understood? If we're still alive after we wash ourselves of that shame, I won't be against you coming back here to export cigarettes to the western coast. You'll only have to worry about getting a good supplier for large quantities."

Dilwa was the man with the long face. He carefully stuffed his nearly empty box of cigarettes back in his pocket. "Understood, Chief."

It turned out that the old man's methods were quite effective. Soon, nonstop reports about the woman made their way to the leader.

"Chief, during the afternoon of the 12th of the 3rd month, she reached Ankanor and purchased a ticket for train number 15 for the town of Blins in Mormaly. She stayed there for three days in Riverclear Inn for three days, doing nothing but shopping or staying inside. She boarded Train 15 on time during the afternoon."

"One worker at the station in Blins had quite the deep impression of her. She got down and asked him what the safest and most convenient way to travel to Slinkas. The worker offered to let his uncle drive her there in his coach. That's the main production hub for medicinal supplies in Mormaly. On the way there, she told the man's uncle that she was a herbalist on her way to buy some supplies.

"It looks like she hasn't noticed that we've made our way to the region already and thinks she's still safe. Otherwise, she wouldn't be so relaxed going to buy medicine so casually. On the 24th, she returned to Blins with two carriages full of medicinal supplies. She got a train ticket the next day and made arrangements for the goods in the carriages to be shipped. Her destination is Lanu in Anfiston."

"We'll head to Lanu immediately," the leader decided. "Since she has two carriages of medicinal supplies, she's definitely going to stay in Lanu for an extended period of time to use them up. I believe we'll locate her soon. We shan't let her escape this time."

Chapter 488 - Train

Claude was nowadays the male nanny of the house. Kefnie had finally given birth to a daughter in the 2nd month and Angelina delivered her and Myjack's son in the 3rd, adding two younglings to Ferd Manor. Swarms of people came to congratulate them, making Claude so busy he couldn't even catch a breath. Thankfully, Myjack was there to tend to Angelina and help to receive guests.

Claude hadn't been home for Tesoray and Beuergarcy's births. When his eldest son was born, he was being trained in the military college. During his second son's birth, he led Thundercrash in the fight against Shiks. In a rare exception, he was there during his daughter's birth and stayed by his wife's side the whole time. He was completely euphoric when he finally found that his child was a girl.

Madam Ferd also stopped feigning illness after the birth of the two children. She also let Bloweyk do whatever he wanted at Anna Farmstead. However, the estimated date of Adele's delivery was the end of the 6th month, some two months away. Bloweyk agreed to take half a year off from the military to spend time with Adele awaiting the birth of their lovechild.

The autonomous region was all too peaceful and quiet. It was the same with regards to news from the kingdom. Apart from the trouble with the three high-interest loans the kingdom owed Nasri, things were slowly turning better. In one sense, Claude moving 1.6 million refugees to the colonies was a huge help to Fredrey I in eliminating a huge element of instability from the kingdom.

Word was that after Aueras couldn't get a satisfying deal from Nasri, they stopped owning up to the debt racked up by Stellin XI altogether. Some even suggested for them to not acknowledge it completely. If Nasri wanted the money back, they were free to look for Stellin XI for it. Stellin XI was already long dead, after all, so they could pin it all on a dead person.

In contrast, however, Fredrey I was rather moderate and reserved. He had a clear mind and knew that Aueras was no longer the powerful nation that could dominate Eastern Freia from five years ago. He expressed his willingness to have a fair negotiation with Nasri's ambassador, and that the capital was willing to pay back the money owed at the normal interest rate, totaling up to 5.6 million crowns in total. After all, Stellin XI only got 4.8 million.

But the Nasrian ambassador weren't willing to compromise. He gave them two options. First, they were to pay back all eight million crowns before the deadline. Second, they could borrow another loan of eight million crowns for a three-year term to pay back old debts with new ones. However, they would have to pay back a total of 12 million crowns once the time comes.

The options were flat out rejected by Fredrey I and the ministers, causing the two sides to end up in a deadlock. However, the past three high-interest loans' term would end on the 8th month. The Nasrian ambassador even threatened to collect the debt with their army if they defaulted on their debt.

However, nobody took the threat seriously. Even if Nasri really sent two standing corps to the borders of the two nations, Fredrey I would only order Reddragon to increase their defence at the border. Even with the current sad state of Aueras, their army still didn't take the losers seriously. The threat of the Nasrian soldiers was nothing but a joke to them.

All was well and peaceful in the world. The current priority of the autonomous region was the construction of the second railway after the populace had experienced the convenience offered by the first. Travelling was much safer and easier nowadays and much time and manpower was saved when it came to the transportation of goods. It was as if the whole region's economy was being pulled behind a train car at high speeds. Anyone willing to work their fair share would be rewarded by a fulfilling job.

The region was still implementing all sorts of policies. During the former half of this year, the 150 thousand troops from both corps would be switching out their uniforms and other gear. They would all be armed with new rifles and dressed in revamped uniforms. Nowadays, both Thundercrash and Monolith had a new special-operations clan that reported only to corps command as well as a mobile-cavalry tribe. Each corps now had a total of 75 thousand people.

Soon, the region would work on arming the garrison lines with new rifles as well as preparing new light-infantry cannons for the two corps. The warships of the fleet would also be modified to use steam engines, making them sail-engine hybrids. A prototype of the new ironclad warship was also being built. It would be field tested in the ocean during the latter half of the year.

......

The southern train station in Lanu was one of the busiest areas of the autonomous region.

"Wow! Lanu is full of people everywhere!" the long-faced man exclaimed once he disembarked, "It looks like the capital. There are so many people and carriages and wide roads..."

The leader checked the map he got from a book store at the train station. "It states here that there are 400 thousand permanent residents in Lanu, the capital of the autonomous region. It's also the financial and administrative centre, so it's no surprise."

The round-faced man sighed. "If only the region's troops could help His Majesty during the civil war, His Majesty wouldn't have been assassinated and we wouldn't have fallen to this point. We used to think that this region was like the colonies on the western coast, but it seems we were wrong."

The leader's face grimmed.

"No matter how good they are running things, they are still traitors. Not only did they betray His Majesty, he also betrayed the vile villains at the mainland. Otherwise, they wouldn't have declared self-governance. Once we deal with that vile woman, we'll see if we have a chance to give these bumpkins a lesson. We'll show them that betraying His Majesty will not go unpunished... Alright, let's go find a place to stay in first before you go collect more information about her."

"Alright, Chief," the other two said.

"Hey, you there, stop." Two constables dressed in black uniform took note of the ten plus men there. "Where are you from? What are you doing here and do you have identification?"

The leader's face shifted into one full of smiles. "Nice to meet you. We are from Krusuya. This is the identification papers we got from the checkpoint."

The two constables read the registration form and put an official stamp on it, certifying that they've passed the test.

"You're here to buy goods, right? You should head to the western sector. That's the business sector of Lanu where most things are sold," the constable said with a joyful look. "You can live there as well. There are many large taverns and inns, as well as restaurants. Some don't even close down at night."

"Thank you, thank you... It's our first time here. Thankfully, you were here to guide us. We'd have to fumble around for the good part of the day had it not been for your help."

The other constable patted the round-faced man's large backpack, causing the leader to stiffen. "Since it's your first time here, let me remind you to not carry ranged weapons or firearms on the streets. Keep them in your quarters. If you run into trouble, look for constables. We will make sure you get fair treatment."

"Alright, thanks. We understand."

When they left, the round-faced man wiped the sweat off his forehead. "This station seems far stricter than other stations. We were immediately noticed when we disembarked."

The leader turned to look at the leaving constables and sighed. "This is the capital of the region, so it's a given that security will be tighter. Let's go and hail a carriage to the western sector first."

......

"What did you say?! The research lab at Blackstone has researched a rapid-fire rifle that can shoot 38 times nonstop?!" Claude looked at the messenger with shock. Sonia knew the importance of keeping it a secret, so she didn't use a carrier eagle and chose to send a personal messenger.

"Yes, General. I saw the rapid-fire rifle myself. After pulling the trigger, it fired 38 times and completely destroyed the targets," the messenger said.

"Good. Rest here for two days. We'll head to the factory together after that." Claude pulled the rope bell to call Masonhughes in to settle the messenger in. He also had a message sent to the railway station to reserve a carriage for his trip to Vebator two days later.

The five generals of the region enjoyed the special privilege of attaching one of their own carriages to the rear of the train. The carriage was armoured on the outside and would be able to block musket and cannon fire from close range. That would eliminate all safety concerns when they travelled.

Claude was wracking his mind over how Sonia came up with the machine gun. He had never told her how one should work or look like. Hadn't Liboyd gotten her to work on the heavy-class cannons meant to be used on ironclad warships once their light-infantry prototype was set? Since when did she change her focus to machine guns?`

Either way, he had to see it for himself.

Two days later, he took a band of guards to the train station. The readied train was still at the platform. The passengers were already boarded, watching Claude and his cohort disembarking from their carriages.

Claude entered the last carriage at the end of the train. It was equipped with its own mini toilet, kitchen, bedroom, lounge and a study. At the very front was the guard's room that was connected to the normal passenger and cargo carriages. They took the carriage next to the special carriage to take their 15 war horses along just in case they should need it due to some problem midway.

The stationmaster, a fat, middle-aged man, ran over and handed Claude all the newest newspapers he could find for him to kill time during his ride. Claude thanked him and soon, the train whistle blew to signal departure.

If they marched from Lanu to Dorinibla River on horseback, it would take a day and night if they were fast and another day more if they were slow. That was mainly because they had to care for their mounts and not ride them for longer than 40 minutes a time. Sometimes, riding on horseback was even worse than travelling by long-distance horse carriage. Workhorses could run for two hours a time with half-hour breaks in between, being much more endurant than war horses.

Yet, it now it only took a short six hours for them to travel the same distance. Once they disembarked and crossed the river, there was another train waiting. The current railway was split in half by the river. There were three states northside of the river and five south. As Loki Mountains was a mountainous state, there was difficulty building railroads there, so it was not included in the plans.

Claude picked up one of the papers by the name 'Lanu Daily'. The headline was about a murder where the culprit had escaped. It piqued his interest. Lanu's security was said to be improving. There had been no foul play since half a year back. How did one suddenly happen just two days after he stopped reading the papers?

He read it from beginning to end. Two non-local smugglers had been killed in the southwestern residential sector of Lanu. It was said that a female herbalist came here half a month ago and rented the house where the murder happened to sell her super-effective medicinal paste.

One of the two murdered smugglers was a Lesnian that came from the colony of Krusuya. There were 20 of them in total and they were probably there to stock up on goods. According to the investigations, the smugglers immediately poked around for the herbalist's whereabouts the moment they arrived in Ankanor, allegedly to ask about the medicinal paste they sold to a restaurant owner.

One of the smugglers was said to have a father that suffered from serious joint pain and couldn't get out of bed. That was why he was intent on looking for the herbalist to buy her ointment. But now, it appeared that the smugglers were trying to get the recipe for the ointment instead. After all, sailors eventually succumbed to joint pain and sensitivity. Managing to get that recipe was akin to finding a gold mine that could be passed down through the family for generations to come.

The constables had that suspicion because the two smugglers that died in the herbalist's quarters were fully armed with custom-made muskets, many poisoned arrows and crossbows. They approached the residence at midnight, obviously intent on causing trouble. Some neighbours said that they heard a few gunshots and the harsh bark of a dog.

Now, the whereabouts of the herbalist was unknown, whether she had managed to escape or she was captured by the accomplices of the two dead smugglers. The two smugglers also left their lodging, Mona Inn in the western sector, and were nowhere to be found. The constables noticed that they left in a hurry due to the amount of luggage they left behind, so they made an announcement throughout the region to keep an eye out for those smugglers.

Claude didn't really mind, since there were all too many smugglers from the western coast. The region only managed to sell the goods they produced to other colonies through them. Usually, as long as smugglers didn't infringe on the region's interests, the constables would turn a blind eye to their little conflicts. However, endangering the lives of other inhabitants was a different story.

The newspaper also reported that the herbalist was not a local. It was likely that the case would soon be buried under many others. While the newspaper reported that wanted notices were posted for those smugglers, Claude believed the constables of Lanu wouldn't do more than pasting a few notices at the train station and port before calling it a day. They wouldn't bother posting the notices in other towns.

At three in the afternoon, they arrived at the bank of Dorinibla River. There was a special floating bridge made for passengers of the train to cross. The small station was surrounded by tall fences and brick walls to prevent anyone outside from getting in. Once the passengers got off, they went to the next station on the other side of the bank for the next train that had the same number of carriages. The passengers would assume their same seats with the tickets they bought.

Claude waited for the passengers to cross before taking his guards along. There was also another additional carriage at the end of the train. Once he got in, Masonhughes came to report to him that the train would take another half an hour before it departed as there were some who crossed the bridge and were lining up for tickets.

The train only started rumbling along after six when the passengers were served dinner.

Chapter 489 - Blackwind, Stop Licking!

The sky darkened and the train gradually slowed. The trains didn't travel faster than forty yards per hour during the day either, normally having an average speed of 30 yards during the day, which was far above the average speed of the horse rider. Trains wouldn't have to stop for rest either, needing only sustenance from coal and water to run three days straight easily.

There were five cargo cars and nine passenger cars attached to this train. Most of the cargo cars were situated behind the coal cars, whereas the passenger cars were further behind. Claude's own train car was at the very tail end.

It would take about two days and three nights to go from Dorinibla River to Vebator. They would also make six stops along the day.

Claude had had dinner and went to the little balcony at the front of his carriage. He lit some grass and put it into his pipe and took puffs while admiring the night scenery of the plains. Initially, he wasn't a smoker, but since he opened his tobacco factory, he took a puff or two from time to time. Now, he even had a pipe for himself. Nowadays, the first thing people did when they met was smoke. To avoid breathing in the others' second-hand smoke, he smoked one himself.

The night was rather cold. He returned inside once he finished smoking, pulled the curtains closed and washed his face. He blew the candles out and sank into his bed, listening to the dull and repetitive rumbles and screeches of the train as he slowly nodded off. Not long after, however, he was awakened by a sudden knock. Masonhughes barged in and said, "General, there seems to be a firefight at the passenger car ahead! It looks like a robbery! What should we do?"

A robbery on the train? Claude shook himself awake. They were in the autonomous region, not a western flick. How could anyone even conjure up a plan to rob on the train? That was nothing short of declaring war against the region, especially when Claude was on board!

"Gum, send two guard tents to clear out the bandits and calm things down. Make sure the passengers are safe," Claude ordered.

Each of the five generals had a band of 55 personal guards. Apart from the four tents of 48 combat guards, there were two healers, one signaller and four bandsmen. Claude usually took three tents of guards with him and left one behind to guard Ferd Manor. Gum was already promoted to major, yet he still served Claude as his bandsman.

Gum quickly sent out his two tents of guards while staying by Claude's side. "You three, go on top of the carriage. Stop anyone from approaching this one from the top. You two, go to the rear of the carriage and shoot to signal us if there's anything off."

The train was still moving. With the passenger car being five cars separated from the locomotive at the front, the driver didn't pick up on the chaos and gunshots. Claude and the rest, however, could clearly hear the shots, cries, and shrieks.

The sounds only intensified once the two tents joined in. But soon, all that could be heard was the signature clicking sound of the new rifles. The commotion among the passengers also quickly welled down, perhaps due to the presence of the reliable guards in military garb. Only toddlers could still be heard crying.

Not long after, news came from the front that Gum took two healers and guards to the car ahead. The gunshots had already stopped and it seemed like the situation was now under control. Another half an hour later, Gum sent a guard to report that there were twelve killed bandits and five heavily injured. Four staff and three passengers were killed, with there being tens more others injured.

Surprisingly, however, the tens of bandits weren't going for the passengers' valuables. They were instead trying to capture a woman, who in turn kept running as she shot back with her revolver. It was only after the guards came in to suppress the ten bandits' firepower that the injured woman managed to be saved.

According to the guard, the muskets used by the bandits were really odd. They had sawed-off barrels, four of them, to be exact, arranged in a square array. Based on the four slow matches attached on the musket, it could fire four times at once, though the tradeoff was it was rather heavy.

"Weird... why have I seen this odd musket somewhere before?" Claude couldn't come up with a concrete recollection even after much thought. However, he did have some guesses about the incident. He supposed the woman was the missing herbalist the newspapers had reported, and the bandits were the missing smugglers.

"Major Masonhughes, go ask around to see if that woman is the herbalist from the papers. Check the identification of the bandits as well to see where they're from. If she is, take the herbalist here. I want to ask her why she was being hunted." It felt all too weird to him. There was no way somebody would go so far for some joint ointment.

Masonhughes had read the article as well and knew what he was referring to. He gave a curt salute and left.

Half an hour later, he returned and reported that the woman was indeed the herbalist. She suffered two shots, one on her left shoulder and another on her left abdomen. It had been treated and she was still conscious. They took her to him and searched her for weapons. Her black puppy refused to leave her no matter what.

Claude didn't really care about the puppy and knew how a woman might feel travelling out alone. Perhaps the puppy was the only pillar of emotional support she had.

"Take her here. If there's no problem with her background, we'll settle her down in our region. It's always good to have more herbalists to serve our citizens," Claude said with a smile. Perhaps he could start an initiative to develop talent in the region to further accelerate their progress.

Sent along with her into the car was a beautiful, intricate revolver with a silver barrel and detailed rose-pattern engravings. It was also covered in gold dust and had an ivory handle bearing the marking of the Stellin royal family. Apart from the revolver, there were 23 other golden cartridges with silver bullet heads.

Claude's expression immediately stiffened. She must not be of simple background for her to possess an article like that. Immediately, it occurred to him that she might be an assassin sent by the royal family to come for the five generals. Then again, no assassin would be stupid enough to carry such a gaudy weapon, one so expensive at that. It seemed more like a gift than a weapon used to kill.

He picked up the silver-tipped cartridges and looked at the bottom fuse, only to see a really thin piece of red crystal sandwiched between the bottom of the cartridge and primer. What could it be? Something to aid the ignition? Before he could have a good look, Masonhughes came in with the woman.

Claude turned to look at her and saw the bandages on her waist and shoulder, through which some blood seeped. She was dressed in a black wool cloak with a belt around it to accentuate her lascivious figure. However, the poor lighting and her slightly dirtied face with grime and dust from the firefight obscured her face. She hugged a black puppy tightly in her arms about a foot long. The puppy was quite well behaved and looked around with its large, googly eyes.

"You're injured. Take a seat first," Claude said, pointing the two soldiers to lay her down on the sofa nearby. They went out to keep watch, whereas Masonhughes stood to the side to await further orders after pouring her a cup of milk tea.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I should be responsible for your safety in the region. It is a guarantee afforded to any law-abiding person here, citizen or not. It was a shame you didn't trust our region's security. Had you called for help right away, I trust that you wouldn't have been involved in all that trouble and gotten hurt so badly."

The herbalist kept silent. Her puppy, on the other hand, seemed really curious about the taste of the tea and struggled to squirm out.

"Actually, our region welcomes all talented folks to settle down and become a citizen," Claude continued, "As a herbalist, I trust that you will have ample room to develop your skills here. What I want to know, however, is where you got your revolver. Are you related to the Stellin royal family in any way?"

The woman didn't respond. Her puppy, on the other hand, finally broke free and fumbled towards Claude. She cried out in surprise and tried to catch it, but failed due to being slowed by the injuries she suffered. The puppy was free to roam.

Claude gave it a glance and ignored the little thing. He picked up the revolver and said, "This revolver must've been made as an expensive gift for those who serve the likes of the kingdom and the royal family. If you are a herbalist with the royal family's backing, those smugglers wouldn't have dared come after you for your joint ointment. I really hope you can tell me where you got this revolver."

She said nothing still.

"Sir," Gum called out from outside.

"Come in."

"General, we found these on the corpses. Three of the other five heavily injured bandits just died, while the other two are still out cold." He put three heavy iron plates and one silver plate on the desk.

Claude picked them out and saw 'reserve' on the iron plates and the number '2207'. On the other side, there was a small row of words that read 'Aueran Public Safety Special Bureau: Watchers in the Night'. Claude's expression stiffened as he tossed the iron plate away and picked the silver one up. There was the same row of words on it. On the other side was 'Unit 2123'.

They weren't smugglers after all, but rather, members of the Watch. Claude finally recalled where he saw those rifles before. When he was on the way to Bluefeather for officer training, he ran into the Watch due to a misunderstanding. They thought he was a magus from Siklos and almost arrested him. They had those odd muskets, and he also saw the identification plates they had as well. They looked exactly the same as the silver one he had in hand.

He felt something at his feet and looked down, only to see the puppy sniffing his feet and circling him. He wondered why the Watch would come to the region. Their mission was to deal with magi that threatened the kingdom's safety. Was the herbalist a magus after all?

She had noticed the look of shock on Claude's face when he saw the silver plate and acted before he turned to look at her. Her hands quickly crossed all the while she sat on the sofa and a few vines sprouted from the carpet of the carriage, tying Claude, Masonhughes and Gum up instantly.

She groaned when the spell was done. It had taken quite the toll on her in her injured state, While it bound Gum and Masonhughes tightly, they could still call for help. They alerted the rest, but the herbalist used Vine Wrap to seal off the exits before troops could come in. The soldiers could only ram the carriage doors with their muskets without being able to see what was going on.

Claude didn't panic and was considering what spells he could use to get himself out of that predicament. However, he didn't have a tome with him, so he could only pick from the basic spells engraved in his three hexagons within his void space. But alas, they weren't suitable to be cast in his bound state.

But before he used a spell or even drew a spell formation in the air, he heard a poof as green smoke clouded his sight. The black puppy beside him disappeared. Taking its place was a big, black wolf the size of a bull. It opened its mouth wide, teeth all showing, and leapt for Claude, pinning down onto the ground, still bound. Its snout shot at Claude's face.

Gum instantly lost his cool and struggled. "Begone, beast! Don't touch the general!"

The herbalist-turned magus started with shock and stood up from the couch. "Blackwind, don't kill him!"

Claude couldn't take it any longer. "Stop... Stop licking! Huh? Blackwind? Sheila..."

The wolf didn't bite him, but rather licked him nonstop. He was shocked by the sudden transformation and leap and couldn't have used any spell even if he wanted to. He was pinned down and couldn't move at all. He didn't think that being licked would jog his memories buried deep. The moment he heard her cry out 'Blackwind', he burst with joy.

"You're Sheila?!" Claude yelled, "I'm Claude! Let me go..."

"Claude?! Is it really you?"

"Yes. Get Blackwind to stop licking me... Ptooey!" Blackwind's tongue almost got into his mouth.

"Claude... I... I finally found you..." She melted and fainted.

"Hey, Sheila! Wake up! Darned dog... Bite the vines free already! Stop licking!"

Some five minutes later, he finally got himself free. He gave Blackwind, that was wagging its tail furiously, two casual slaps and rushed to Sheila to hold her up. He was relieved to find that she had only passed out. He put her on the bed and cut the vines at the door free. The guards swarmed in and calmed down, before returning to their posts.

When he returned to his carriage, the first thing he did was wash his face clean of Blackwind's saliva. Only then did he cut Masonhughes and Gum free. They scrambled out of the mess of vines, still shivering, though Claude didn't really mind. The vines would disappear in ten minutes even if he hadn't cut them anyway. Now, all that was on his mind was catching up with Sheila. He didn't want those two to stay there and get in his way.

After getting the two to swear an oath of secrecy, he kicked his adjutant and guard bandsman out. Gum, however, was given some hushed instructions to send the two surviving Watchers on their way to the wargod's kingdom after asking them about their hunt for Sheila.

Chapter 490 - Sheila's Experiences

After going to the kitchen ice box for a fresh cow leg, which they got after being resupplied at Dorinibla River's station, Claude tossed it to Blackwind. He gave it some thought and poured it half a bowl of milk before giving his head a slight pat. "Be good and stay here once you're full. Don't cause trouble for me."

Having dealt with Blackwind, Claude got another basin of water with a clean towel to wipe the grime off the pretty magus' face. Soon, he could once more see the beautiful face he remembered so well. Having not seen each other for ten years, he noticed that her beautiful visage seemed a little worn down by the hardships she had experienced. Her brows furled in a tired and alert manner while a few wrinkles could be seen on her forehead and the corners of her eyes.

He gave her a pained look and felt both regret and renewed joy. He had forgotten since when he stopped contacting Sheila altogether. He first left her for home to get married and went to the royal capital to join Ranger. Later, he went for training in a military college and became Miselk's disciple. Back then, he still wrote to her often, but there were no replies from her at all. In time, he slowly forgot about her and buried her in the depths of old memories.

After that, he went to Nubissia with Ranger and ten years had passed since then. He didn't think that his first proper lover in this world would show up once more before him under such circumstances. He had thought that he would never see her again his whole life and eventually buried the feelings of first love deep inside.

The skies brightened as the sun rose. Claude sat by the bed with his eyes trailed on her and the wolf perched by his side, looking up at him from time to time and stole a sniff or two from him but he was too focused on his first love. He ignored Blackwind entirely.

Someone knocked on the door, dragging him out of his head.

"General, we'll soon arrive at Haroldsburg's station. Look--"

Masonhughes stopped dead in his tracks and stared fearfully at the wolf before looking back at Claude. He only breathed a sigh of relief after seeing that he was fine.

Claude frowned, stood up, shook his numb legs, and rubbed his hands together to get the blood flowing. If he had a choice, he wouldn't let anyone interrupt his time alone with her. But due to the incident yesterday that saw a few of his guards injured, he had to deal with the aftermath as the highest-ranking person on the train.

"Let's stop the train for one day and notify the railway company about the robber incident. While most of them are eliminated, there may still be some on the loose. Have them send someone here to deal with this. We've suffered quite heavy losses. Reimburse the injured staff and passengers properly and make sure security in trains is heightened so that this never happens again."

Claude classified the dead Watchers as mere bandits, since dead men told no tales. That way, he could stop the matter from blowing up huge and involving his lover. What came next would be for the railway company to appease the passengers by reimbursing them at all costs. It would be best to keep the matter suppressed and make sure it was forgotten in say, half a year.

"I'll let you deal with it," Claude said. It wouldn't be appropriate for the commander-in-chief of the region to deal with a matter like this. In fact, it would draw even more attention to the matter. "As for her, keep it top secret. Don't involve her, got it?"

"Yes, General." Masonhughes saluted with understanding and prepared to leave.

"Wait. When we reach Haroldsburg, get me some fresh meats and a barrel of milk and blackwheat ale." He recalled that Blackwind loved drinking blackwheat ale.

"Yes, General." Masonhughes gave the wolf another glance and received a tail wag in return.

Half an hour later, the train stopped at Haroldsburg station. The whole station was alerted to the incident as corpse after corpse of both bandit and passenger was brought down and lined up on the station platform. The injured passengers cried as they described their experience. With so many people passing through the station, the local garrison force soon stepped in to maintain order.

Nobody came to disturb Claude. The two tents of guards had set up a defence perimeter outside the carriage while Masonhughes dealt with the stationmaster and local constable in Claude's stead, going over the incident in detail.

Gum showed up before Claude once more and brought news about the two bandits' unfortunate deaths. He also handed him a black folder containing the testimony of the drugged and questioned bandits.

"General, I've given a gag order," Gum said. He was shocked by the confessions of the Watchers. Prince Hansbach, the 'majesty' the two referred to, known to them as Hansbach I, was actually assassinated by that female magus. The Watchers had been trying to tail her for the past three years.

Gum had never imagined that she would be none other than Claude's lover, Sheila, from Squirrel Village during the five-year war. He had seen her before and helped her move building materials for her small home. He knew that if word of that got out, Claude would once more be embroiled in a chaotic storm. He immediately gave a gag order to forbid the guards who took part in the interrogation from bringing this up.

Claude nodded, not blaming Gum for doing it without his explicit instruction. All members in his personal guards were his trusted aides and carefully vetted to make sure they were absolutely loyal to him. The reason Gum could overstep Claude and give the gag order showed the level of seriousness of the matter they were dealing with.

When he read the testimonies, his expression instantly changed. How could Sheila actually be Hansbach's killer? However, he soon calmed down. Whether Hansbach died by her hands or not, she was already there with him. So, nobody was to take her from him. Given Claude's status, there wasn't much he had to fear. It wouldn't be too hard for him to protect her.

Once Gum left, Claude returned to the bed and gazed at her in a daze. He made up his mind to never let her leave his side again.

Sheila only woke up during the evening. She couldn't help but groan from her wounds.

"Sheila, you're awake. It's me, Claude." He came to the bed immediately and lit the candle on the bedside desk so she could get a good look.

"Claude, is that really you?" she asked with a daze, stretching her hand out towards him but drawing it back immediately.

Claude held her hand in his own and placed it on his face. "It's me, Sheila. I'm still your Claude from back then."

She stroked his face as she muttered, "C-claude... you've changed... I almost couldn't recognise you..."

He felt himself tearing up as he sandwiched her hand tightly between his hand and face. The young captain she had fallen in love with back then had become a general. How could he not change? His countless battles had shaped him into an iron-fisted commander. He was the always-victorious commander in the eyes of his subordinates. There was no longer the shred of naivete he possessed when they were still together.

Other things aside, he was the youngest general in the region and wasn't even 40. But to maintain a strict appearance, he now wore a moustache that gave him an air of maturity. Had it not been for his expressions, Sheila might not have recognised him at all.

"Let's talk later. I've made some egg porridge for you. Eat a little and I'll help you change your bandages. You must recover. We have more than enough time together later to talk." Claude unwillingly put her hand down and fetched the egg-and-wheat porridge he made her.

He fed her the porridge before switching her bandages out. Then, he used Clean on her to remove the remaining grime. After all that, she fell into a deep slumber again, still tightly clutching his hand. He knelt by the bedside and fell asleep himself, holding her hand tight.

Sheila woke up at two that night and let go of him. Claude got up and fed her more soup before helping her to the toilet, and back to the bed. She seemed to be quite energised and pestered him to tell her about what he went through all these years. Claude went through his battles, achievements, and continuous efforts to reorganise and improve the troops.

"It's no wonder I couldn't find you! You were sent here to fight a war for ten years!"

"What? You tried looking for me? It can't be that hard to find me. The Shiksan army's defeat on Nubissia drew the attention of many nations on Freia. Almost every newspaper here knows about our exploits. Even my name is published on the newspapers quite often," Claude said.

"Sorry, Claude, I always thought the General Ferd mentioned in the newspapers had the same family name you did. I didn't think it'd actually be you. Your given name was never published. Not to mention, the corps in the colonies were irregular, and you said you were part of Ranger, the royal family's own force."

Claude finally understood what she meant. All newspapers would only use the family names of the commanders of either side to show their respect. However, those in the region who knew Claude called him General Claude or Lord Claude to show familiarity. However, the newspapers used only his family name to prevent any confusion or conflict, choosing General Ferd to be more conservative. Those who didn't know him might not know that it was referring to Claude specifically.

"But I wrote so many letters to you. You didn't reply to any of them."

"I only received three," she said awkwardly, "At first, I hated you for leaving so casually and wanted to ignore you. By the time I received your third, two years had passed. You said you joined Ranger there. I had no way to write back, though, because the village chief died and Squirrel Village was no more. There was no longer anyone coming through the mountain path. In the end, I had to travel a few days to town just to do my shopping."

"Squirrel Village is no more? How did the village chief die?"

Sheila told him that two years after he left, the garrison unit at the village retreated to the kingdom. After that, a clan of people came to set up a checkpoint to collect toll at the path and occupied the village. The new clansman was really greedy and forced the chief to give him half the shares of the tavern and spent his days there drinking and fooling around for free.

That was how business in the tavern quickly deteriorated. The clansman blamed the chief for not running the tavern properly and forcefully sold his shares back, bankrupting the chief without spending a penny of his own. He later continued to drink and eat for free until the tavern shut down.

With the tavern gone, the clansman stretched his claws out for the other businesses in the village. He used the checkpoint to stop the mountain folk from going out on their own to trade. They could only trade his goods for a low price through his men. It was nothing short of robbery. Eventually, the villagers could no longer survive in the mountains and moved further away. The village chief died from a fit of anger as a result.

Once the chief died, the households of the village moved out one after another until nobody was left. The clan could no longer remain there and retreated in half a month, leaving the mountain path completely abandoned.

Following that, she didn't receive any letters from Claude any longer. She stayed in the deep mountains and seldom left. Oftentimes, she only bought some absolute necessities once every one or two years. Even with her spells, it took her a few days' time to leave the mountains. She had no way of writing back to him.

She stayed in the wilderness like that for seven straight years, training to become a five-ring magus and practising her mother's spells. The Enlighten spell used on Blackwind also reached maturity. Now, it had another form it could transform into: a three-month-old puppy, finally allowing her to take it into the city without worrying about frightening others.

Only then did she decide to leave the mountains. Her first move was to go to the royal capital to seek Claude out, but there wasn't any word about him at all. The moment she mentioned Ranger, she was given pitiful gazes, as if the trash stock at Ranger had ruined a naive girl like her.

It wasn't easy for her to get the truth that Ranger had a horrid reputation in the royal capital for being the unit where the members of the outer Stellin family went to frolic and party. They didn't train nor maintain any semblance of discipline and were almost universally hated in the royal capital for causing trouble for the populace nonstop.

So, she went directly to Ranger's campsite. A few quasi-royals tricked her into the camp and tried to force themselves on her, only to be beaten back with a single strike. To prevent Blackwind from biting all their limbs off, they gave her the rosters of the corps so she could verify that there was indeed no commoner captain or major by the name of Claude.

Given that they had joined the corps not long ago, they didn't know about Claude's exploits in the corps. By the time she left the mountains, Claude was already the field marshal of the theatre and major-general and folksman of Thundercrash. Had Sheila managed to find someone else in the royal capital that used to be in Ranger when it was still a folk, she would've known where he was.

Unable to find him, she decided to go to the western coast on Nubissia where her mother and some other magi went searching for ruins. After much effort, she finally got there and spent up to three years to find her. She did locate the ruins, but her mother had died by then.

Right after experiencing the loss of the last family member she had, she decided to go back to her hermit life on Freia. But when she reached Port Floric by ship, she ran into Hansbach and his escort that had just retreated from Whitestag. She had heard from Claude that the first prince once saw him as one who shows promise, so she wanted to get some information from him. She didn't have a hard time getting an audience thanks to her beauty.

Nobody could know what Hansbach had on his mind back then. Perhaps it was due to his hate for the five generals of the theatre. He didn't know Sheila was a magus and only saw him as Claude's old lover and committed the mistake that cost him his life.

He didn't tell her where he was and instead cursed Claude and the rest for betraying his trust right before her and mouthed on about how he would one day lead his armies to deal with the treasonous dogs.

Due to being a little drunk, he even tried to get touchy. Sheila, having gone adventuring for a good three years, had long gotten past her hesitation for killing and put a hole in Hansbach's head with Magic Missile before darting off with the prince's beautiful revolver.

Chapter 491 - Catching Up

Claude widened his mouth and glared at Sheila, who was leaning against the bed. His long stare even caused her to think there was something on her face. Being not able to find anything, she said, "What are you staring at?"

He shook his head and snapped himself out of it. "No, I mean, you just used Magic Missile like that without even considering the fact that he was a royal?"

"Nope," she said confidently, "I hate him. On what basis was he calling you a traitor? Was I supposed to obey him just because he had a high status? He was just a drunk, not so different from the sailors in the dockside taverns. He even dared to lust after me. After I pushed him away, he threatened to kill my whole family if I didn't let him have his way. So, I blasted his head off. He wasn't any different from the other crooks I've killed."

Claude was speechless. He could only smile in resignation. Who knew the once-heroic and reputable Hansbach would die such a death. It was too pitiful.

Even Claude thought that, even if Hansbach died, it would be by his own hands as befitting of his status. He would die a tragic and glorious death, leaving his mark in Freian history as a tragic hero.

Yet his life was taken like a dog's. It couldn't have been more embarrassing. It was no wonder there was no more news about the matter right after word of his death spread. They didn't even mention the perpetrator. His subordinates from his four armies split up his territories swiftly and the reason for his death was covered up just like that, leaving many people hanging.

Sheila was the only one who didn't understand how much she had changed history with a single Magic Missile. Had the first prince not died, his four armies would've remained united under his firm grip and the newly conquered territories would've been held firmly. Not even Shiks and Nasri would dare to pine after them. Perhaps in a few more years, he would even launch an attack on the part of Aueras he had yet to conquer.

That came as quite a disappointment for Claude. Given his impression of Hansbach, he never would've imagined he would die for such a reason. Perhaps the forced retreat from Whitestag and losing what territories of the original mainland he captured came as quite a blow to Hansbach, causing him to have to vent his anger somewhere. It was too bad he chose a wrong target for that. Sheila was not a weak girl who would stand being bullied, but rather a magus not unfamiliar with killing.

"You escaped just like that? Why did you remember to take that revolver then?"

"What else would I do but escape? Wait to be killed?" she proudly spat, "That first prince must be some kind of coward to have so many guards hidden around him. When I was brought in, he was playing with his revolver as he drank wine. Only after his guards made sure I wasn't carrying any weapons did he dare ask his hidden guards to go further away from the room. I only felt something was off at that time.

"Also, I've played around with revolvers before when I was at the western coast. One female magus I know stole two revolvers and tens of bullets from a local viceroy. Those revolvers came in really handy, but we had no choice but to discard them once we ran out of bullets. So, I snagged the revolver immediately since I had the chance.

"But the moment I left the mansion, the guards noticed that the first prince had died and started chasing me like mad. With Blackwind's help, I managed to kill four to five of those who came the closest and snuck to the port to get myself a fishing boat. I left port that night itself. When I was on the ship, I recalled that your hometown was Whitestag, so I spent a month on the little fishing boat sailing the coasts to reach there.

"When I arrived, all I saw was ruin. I asked many people but they hadn't heard of you before, nor knew where your house was. Later, an old man told me that most of Whitestag's original inhabitants had already left. The first and second princes fought there for a year and a half and the original inhabitants were either killed or had escaped. Those that were there at that point were refugees from some other place.

"Then, he told me that many Whitestag folk fled to the three sister prefectures to their relatives and suggested me to go there. I was really tempted to do that and was just about to leave, only for the first prince's guards to end up tracking me again. I had to run all over Freia for the next half year, but I wasn't able to shake those mad dogs off at all..."

She sounded rather agitated while describing the hunt for her. It just didn't occur to her that killing a drunk thug of a prince would cause her to go on the run for three long years away from the rabid dogs that just wouldn't give up. Fortunately, she wasn't some softie. While she no doubt suffered much in the three years, she reduced her hunters by at least half, much of it thanks to Blackwind.

Claude could do naught but console her. The truth turned out to be just as the two formerly surviving Watchers confessed. Hansbach's assassin not only managed to kill him under their noses, she even managed to escape. That was a scar of lasting humiliation for them which they could only wipe off by killing Sheila. It didn't help that their hate grew as more and more of their own were killed during the chase itself. Eventually, they were driven by nothing more than their hatred and desire for revenge.

Sheila didn't understand how they managed to track her even after she shook them off, though it seemed quite obvious to Claude. Her voyage in a small fishing boat along the coast to Whitestag seemed innocuous enough, but it left a bright trail for the Watch to follow.

It wasn't too hard to find that a fishing boat went missing after the port city was sealed. Fishing boats could at most sail along coastlines, so there was only one route to follow. She could also only get her supplies from fishing towns or villages near the coasts and the paper trail left behind made her destination obvious.

Her being unable to shake off her pursuers for half a year was even easier to explain. Firstly, Watchers were expert magi trackers in the first place. That was the purpose for which they were formed. Sheila wouldn't be able to shake their specialised skills and training off that easily.

Additionally, Eastern Freia was home ground for the Watchers. They already had informants and traps laid all over the place. It would be all too easy for her to be discovered after she entered a shop to buy food. They could pinpoint her location and send more people to swarm her, forcing her to have to escape once more into the wilderness.

"Oh, so that was how they did it... No wonder I only managed to get three months of peace after getting on a ferry to sail to the western coast of Nubissia to find my magi friends..."

Even the Watch wouldn't send their members and informants to Nubissia; they didn't have a reason to. So when Sheila finally sailed there, they were no longer able to keep track of her. By the time they reached the western coast and found her again, three months had passed.

Those three easygoing months had caused her to let her guard down. She thought the matter was all over, only to be shocked to find herself in another encirclement. Had it not been for Blackwind's alertness, she might've died from that ambush. Yet, she managed to escape heavy encirclement, but the rogue magi couple that sheltered her were killed in their own home.

It was only then that she understood how strong the mad dogs' hatred was. Both sides had to settle matters once and for all for it to end. However, she had difficulty dealing with a pack of wolves alone. Though a five-ring magus she was, the level of the mad dogs on her tail weren't much worse than her own. At the very least, they were able to cast Energy Barrier. As long as Sheila couldn't take them out in one hit with her spells, she would be under fire barrage after barrage. In the end, both sides resorted to using their firearms to fight.

She then set a trap and used a local garrison force to help her wipe one tent of Watchers out. However, they paid her back by committing murder in her guise in various colonies of the western coast, causing her to end up becoming a wanted fugitive across all of them. She had no longer been able to hide in towns and cities to avoid them.

Claude hugged her in his arms gently and stroked her hair. He couldn't imagine how she managed to spend those two dangerous years on the western coast.

During the course of two years of running, she managed to halve the forty-plus Watchers. Eventually, the murder cases pinned on her were so many that she could no longer stay at the western coast. She left for the region through a near-shore passenger ferry of the region.

To confuse her pursuers, she intentionally got off at the most distant spot, Port Cobius in Tyrrsim, rather than Port Vebator or Port Patres, which won her half a month's time. But just as she was settling down in Lanu, her pursuers arrived.

Thankfully, the autonomous region had great security, causing the Watchers to be unable to fight her in broad daylight. Their only option was to strike the house she rented at night. Being long prepared, she managed to leave a false trail for them to make them think she had escaped.

Just as they were about to follow her tracks, she returned and shot two of them dead, using the gunfire to attract the constables in the meantime. The Watchers couldn't risk being discovered, so they quickly left the scene.

Then, Sheila hid nearby the station and rented another hideout. She wanted to shake them off this time using the train. But the pursuers managed to predict her moves despite being wanted by the constabulary themselves and rushed to Dorinibla River's bank ahead of her to have someone keep watch on the floating bridge between the stations. The moment Sheila disembarked from the train, she was spotted.

According to the testimonies of the two watchers, they confirmed that she had gotten off and hurried to buy tickets of their own. The moment they were certain nobody could get off once the train started moving, they began searching through the cabins. The staff member that tried to stop them was shot dead in an instant. The gunshot, however, alerted Sheila to draw her own gun to fight back. The cabin became a battlezone. Later, Claude's guards came and eliminated the Watchers, whom they thought were bandits.

It turned out to be quite fortunate for both Claude and Sheila, for them to be reunited after a decade. Luckily for them, what remained of the Watch's field operatives were eliminated in one go. She would no longer have to worry about them any longer and could finally put the matter to rest. It was as if Lady Fate herself had ordained the end to this chapter of her life.

"It's all over now. We're finally together again. The future is still long and we have more than enough time. Sheila, what you need to do now is to heal up. Let me take care of you. You don't have to worry about your safety any longer," he consoled.

"What? I'm not worried about my safety. I only care about finding you. I always believed that you wouldn't die on the battlefield. When the first prince called you a traitor, I was quite happy. That meant you were still alive and doing quite well. It's too bad he didn't tell me where you were before he tried to stick his hands on me and threaten to kill my family... I couldn't help killing him in anger."

"Stop!" Claude wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Sheila, don't ever mention the first prince to anyone else ever again, alright? He's a monarch in one sense or another. Even if his kingship isn't recognised by the kingdom, his position gives him claim over a title like this.

"If word of you killing him ever gets out, you'll be seen as a kingslayer. Killing monarchs is a great taboo in every nation on Freia. I don't want your life to suffer because of that."

At least, she seemed intent on listening to his advice. "Fine... I won't mention it is all... Killing him didn't feel any different from killing anyone else anyway... So what if he's a monarch? Only weaklings die from a single Magic Missile... By the way, you don't really train your magic nowadays, right?"

Claude nodded. "Well, it's certainly been less often than before. I rely on rifles and cannons on the battlefield, after all. And I have tens of thousands of troops to command as a general, so I spend much more time thinking about defeating enemies. I didn't have much time to meditate during the wars with Shiks. I haven't even made it to the fourth ring. By the way, how did you know I don't train often?"

"It's simple. When I fought those fellows on the train, I used most of my mana on maintaining Energy Barrier and a few support spells. By the time your soldiers came, I was hurt and mostly drained. I could only cast a few more Vine Wraps.

"I wanted to use Vine Wrap to hold you all down and get Blackwind to subdue you before escaping with you as hostages. If you had kept training, your level wouldn't have been lower than mine and you'd be able to break free of Vine Wrap easily instead of lying there and getting licked."

Claude made a pained smile. When he met Sheila, he was further along in his training than she was. The Vine Wrap she used on him had practically no effect at all.

But now, she was a five-ring nature magus. The spell she used bound even his fingertips and suspended his legs in the air. Even if he was a four-ring magus, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it as he couldn't even cast a basic spell from that position."

"Alright, I won't give you trouble for that. I'll stay by your side to supervise your training and meditation," she said with bright, glowing eyes. She was in a rather good mood. "Claude, you're so high up in the hierarchy now and no longer young. You told me about your experiences on the battlefield just now, but you haven't told me about your family.

"I trust that you already got married, unlike me. I didn't hook up with any men in all these years. Well, tell me about your wife and kids. How did you get married and how many kids do you have now?"

Perspiration began to run down his forehead.

Chapter 492 - Busywork and Misfortune

The train stopped at Haroldsburg for a day. At nine in the morning of the next day, it resumed its journey.

Claude felt a headache piling up from the problem of settling Sheila down. He couldn't bring her back home, that was for certain. It would definitely wreak havoc on his family. He couldn't even take Sheila to Blackstone Arms Factory. Putting aside the matter of secrecy, he didn't know how Sheila would react if she ever found out that he still kept Sonia around as a lover.

"My dearest, we've arrived at Wickhamsburg. Let's get down here. I have a farmstead nearby. Rest there and recover first. I'll go to you once I finish my work," he said. He decided to stay in Wickhamsburg for a few days to settle her down there after much consideration.

"But I don't want to part from you, Claude--" She shot him a pitiful gaze. "--Can't I follow you along your work trip?"

He shook his head. "Sheila, my position comes with its own inconveniences. There are some things I simply can't do out of consideration of the potential consequences. I don't want to separate from you either, but it's hard to bring you around while you're still hurt. The place I'm going to is also top secret. It's our weapons factory and I can't just bring anyone there."

After much convincing, she finally agreed to go to the farmstead. Claude promised to go keep her company once he was done. The farmstead was a piece of land assigned to him. It was around a million square metres in size. It was the largest piece of land in Cromwell compared to the countless small patches of privately owned farmland.

The one managing it was a disabled veteran called Bjarne Zilinsk. He used to be one of Claude's guards who was promoted to bandsman due to his good performance. He was on a promotion track, but his luck was quite bad as he broke his leg after being sent flying by the Shiksan iron pumpkins. When he was saved, his left calf had to go. Now, he limped around and walked with a wooden strut as support. However, his voice was still bright and optimistic as it had always been.

"General, why are you here?!" Bjarne asked with glee. Claude's farmstead had just been completed two years ago. Though he had been left in charge of it, he had only managed to meet Claude once when he went to Ferd Manor to report the yields.

"I just happened to be passing by. I also want to get her settled in while she recovers," Claude plainly said, "Bjarne, you did quite well over here. It looks really orderly."

Bjarne cracked a bright smile. "Thanks for the high praise, General. I was just about to write a report to you about something. There are some companies that are banding up to include smaller pieces of farmland to plant a single type of crop and improve upon it in some sort of cooperation. The landowners will be given yearly dividends. They even sent someone to ask whether you want to join."

"There's no need--" Claude waved the suggestion away. "--It's better if we don't to stop them from using us as a namesake to attract more members. If something happens, we'll be dragged down."

Cromwell's farmland was now suited for large-scale operations like joint-farming arrangements. Initially, the land was split into small pieces before being handed to the troops from the two corps so they would have their own careers. This policy attracted quite a lot of immigrants and garnered quite a few voices of objection.

Many merchants hoped they could buy up or rent the land of those two states on a large scale to start farming complexes. That way, they could greatly increase efficiency. However, the autonomous region forbade that motion. What the region now needed was large numbers of immigrants to increase its military might by increasing its draft pool. That was why they had given the land to the troops in the first place. The goal was so that their families would be attracted to move to the region and settle in, before eventually being drafted to join the force.

The two states' land could indeed support those family members, but they would only be able to barely support their lives with nothing much left to spare. So, some companies came up with joint farming for better profits overall.

The region was long aware of that situation, but it couldn't stop it and could only force the companies and landowners to sign agreements under strict supervision to ensure that the landowners wouldn't be scammed out of their lands due to some loophole.

After all, the joint farming arrangement was by no means a surefire way to make money. Sometimes, the demand for a certain crop would be low and an abundance of supply would mean a steep drop in prices. It wouldn't be surprising for a year's efforts of the farms to go to waste. Many small landowners had to sell their lands to those companies to pay back their debts, causing quite a lot of civil unrest.

Bjarne nodded. "Alright, General. I was thinking about planting blueberries this year. That way, we can produce our own blueberry wine here. By the way, who did you mention was going to stay here to recover?"

"It's a lady..." Claude grit his teeth for having to repeat himself. "Let her stay in the main building and make sure she receives the same treatment I do. Give her anything she asks for, and if that's something you can't do, send someone to notify me. I will leave a tent of guards behind here to protect her. Also, go hire two maidservants to tend to her needs, got it?"

Even if Bjarne was a complete idiot, he could see that the person definitely had a complicated relationship with Claude. He immediately nodded. "Yes, General. I will treat her like your wife herself and make sure you have nothing to worry about."

After bidding Sheila goodbye, Claude rode straight to Blackstone Arms Factory without stopping. Receiving him was Sonia, rolling her eyes. "You should've come three days ago. Why did you only reach now? I had to delay my trip to my father's to wait for you..."

He didn't have anything to add to that, so he bowed and apologised. The next day, he woke up with a sore hip and walked tiresomely as the refreshed Sonia took him to see the special gun that was capable of firing 38 bullets in a row.

"I wasn't the one who designed this. This is the work of Magus Barclyde Sherifid."

"Barclyde Sherifid?"

"He's one of the four highly paid rogue rune magi our lab hired. He's also really well versed in research on metals. Didn't the region make another order for one thousand sniper rifles? I was too busy working on the heavy-ship cannons my father wanted, so I left the crafting of parts to him.

"Not only did he manage to complete that task with flying colours, he got hooked on gun construction and spent three months coming out with a really weird one that can fire 38 rounds in little more than ten seconds. I wrote to you immediately to get you to see it."

Sonia brought him before a really odd-looking machine. It was more or less rectangular, much unlike a traditional rifle. Had it not been for the stock and trigger, he wouldn't have recognised it for a gun.

He later met Barclyde himself. The man was in his fifties and looked like the archetypical oddball professor in science fiction, with his bald head, thick glasses and thin frame. He only needed a white robe to complete the look.

"Nice to meet you, Profess-- I mean, Magus Barclyde--" Claude shook his hand. "--Can you make a shooting demonstration? I want to see if it's applicable in combat."

It was too heavy, so it would have to pass. Four strong soldiers were barely enough to move the machine onto a metallic pushcart. That was reason enough for Claude to not give the green light.

"Why do you need such a thick metal plate at the bottom?" Claude asked.

"Oh, that's to absorb the shock to the barrel so accuracy can be maintained. The metal serves a heavy counterweight," Barclyde replied.

Next came the demonstration. What Claude found weird was the need to spin a wheel nonstop all while the trigger was being pulled. The rounds did indeed fire nonstop and 38 of them were spent within a short half minute.

"Is it over?" Claude asked.

"Yes, General."

"Then, how is it loaded?"

"Oh, after firing, the back cover here has to be opened for the ammo plate to be removed. Once rounds are inserted into the plate as well as the four barrels inside, the plate is reinstalled and covered up. The gun can then continue firing."

Claude managed to get a detailed look at the internal structure and understood the use of the wheel outside. It was used to spin the ammunition plate within to allow for continuous loading and firing of the rounds. However, a soldier had to be properly trained to match up the timing of the spins with the rate of fire at a constant rate.

Claude shook his head and felt great disappointment. This wasn't the machine gun he envisioned, but rather a rapid-firing machine. He counted the time it took to load it -- it took at least five minutes. That was enough time for a veteran to empty ten clips from their normal rifles.

Compared to ten clips containing 50 rounds, 38 paled much in comparison. The machine, in its current state, was worthless to the region.

He smiled and asked, "Magus Barclyde, I heard you are well studied in metals and mechanical engineering. What kind of magic research did you use to conduct?"

"Oh, I used to design treasure chests and gates for noble houses. Those are mostly security contraptions. Later, I made small magic crossbows and some magic-mechanical contraptions for sale."

It was no wonder the gun was so weird. Claude's doubts were immediately cleared. Barclyde probably used the same thought process he used for his security devices to research the gun. In secret rooms and wall corners, the gun would indeed be uncontended. Nobody would be able to avoid all 38 bullets in a confined space.

"Sonia, give Barclyde his own lab and make sure he has enough apprentice magi and materials. He'll have the same access as you do and declassify our secret projects for him. If you run into any roadblocks, you can also seek him out for advice." Since he was a talented man, Claude didn't mind treating him well.

"However, your gun is indeed not of much use to our troops." The stick that came after the carrot snapped Barclyde out of his drunken joy.

"First, it is far too heavy and can't be carried onto the battlefield. It wouldn't be able to be deployed swiftly enough. Second, it fires in far too short bursts and requires a really complicated loading process. Nobody will wait five minutes for you to finish reloading. It's not really useful in offensive or defensive applications.

"Rapid firing is only useful if it can sufficiently suppress the enemy. Using a bullet rain, we can stop the enemy's attacks and movements while dealing huge damage. The main goal is always to be able to trump their numerical advantage with our technology. There are many requirements when it comes to making a rapid-firing weapon.

"For instance, if a gun can fire at a rate of 60 rounds per minute for ten minutes while maintaining accuracy, all enemy attacks, defences and charges will be sufficiently suppressed. Only then can the basic requirements on the battlefield be met."

Claude pointed at the weird custom gun. "I will call this a machine gun. But it's obvious that there are still huge inconveniences with this design that needs to be worked through. It's heavy, too complicated and loses effectiveness after a short burst.

"However, I trust that you'll one day come up with one fit for the battlefield with further research. How about this, Magus Barclyde, I have some thoughts of my own I hope you can try to incorporate into your work. I'll leave machine-gun research in your hands."

Claude stayed there for six days discussing some concepts on machine guns. Among them, he brought up phasing out the ammunition plate altogether and using normal cartridges instead, replacing it with a much lighter ammunition belt, an idea which Barclyde said was genius. But whether it could actually be implemented to Claude's specifications would depend on the magus' skills. Claude had shared all that he remembered about machine guns from Earth.

Sonia left Blackstone a day earlier with some technicians to Port Vebator. They would be installing six ship cannons on the first ironclad warship developed by Liboyd for testing. They were basically enlarged versions of large-infantry cannons.

In some sense, the ironclad warship was an oddity for sure. Even with the exterior sketches Claude provided of the ships he had seen on Earth, Liboyd didn't draw much inspiration from them. The one he made looked not much different structurally from normal sail ships, save for the outer iron shell that covered it instead of wood. The masts were still kept so that they could employ both sails and steam power for movement.

Claude was most dissatisfied with the firing windows on both sides of the ship. The plan was to have 12 cannons installed on both sides of the deck to increase firepower. However, he didn't see the need for it. The six heavy cannons on the deck itself could shoot far and accurately. It could also freely rotate to aim at firing platforms of other ships, so it should be more than capable of dealing with sail ships of this era. An extra 24 old-fashioned cannons on the flanks was unnecessary.

Though, there was nothing Claude could do about Liboyd's stubbornness. He couldn't fight his chief technician, after all, and consoled himself with the fact that this was the first prototype and hoped that future versions would improve once this lesson was learned.

Having left Blackstone, he returned to the farmstead at Wickhamsburg to accompany Sheila. Claude was planning to return to Anna Farmstead at the end of the 5th month as Adele was expecting a child early in the 6th. He wanted to accompany his brother as his first child was delivered.

Sheila had recovered rather quickly and could barely move about freely by herself now. She was bored to death at the farmstead and wanted to return with Claude. He, on the other hand, hoped she could stay for another month to fully recover before taking her away. Right as he was contemplating what to do, he received an urgent message saying that Adele gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl, early and passed away due to heavy blood loss.

"I have to go back immediately. Wait for me here. I'll come back for you," Claude said sternly. She was quite understanding and knew something bad had happened back at the family, so she obediently conceded.

Claude rushed back and saw the sour-faced Angelina. "What's going on? Wasn't Adele evaluated to be quite healthy and likely to survive the childbirth of twins? Why did the delivery come early? Why did she lose so much blood?"

Angelina grimaced. "It's Mother. She sent a servant to hand a letter to Adele, asking her to leave our family after giving birth and not continue to pester Bloweyk. Adele went into early childbirth from the shock..."

Chapter 493 - Family Troubles

As the old saying goes, the most troublesome matters were usually family matters.

Claude finally came to understand its true meaning. He couldn't directly blame his mother for it, since the early birth was definitely not her intent. She was getting old and mixed around too much with other ladies in high social circles, so she wanted to get Bloweyk a fitting wife so that she, a Ferd, wouldn't lose face.

Claude believed his mother loved Bloweyk the most. It has always been so since their childhood. Had Bloweyk not grown up during the harshest days the family had to face and not been harshly taught by Angelina, he would've ended up a major spoiled manchild. Thankfully, while Bloweyk was naughty, he was at least reasonable. The training he got in the military also made him an exemplar for many.

Like most people, Bloweyk grew to have his own views. But to Madam Ferd, that was where she failed the most. Her beloved son was no longer obedient like before, and it came to plague her mind. For instance, she wanted Bloweyk to quickly be discharged instead of continuing his career in the military to settle down as the household head and lead house Ferd to being an influential household. Claude had already filled the military quota as far as she was concerned.

But Bloweyk refused to follow her plans for him and left the household in the hands of Kefnie, much to his mother's disappointment. The only card in her hand left to play was to find him a good wife, which could potentially change his mind about not settling down.

However, that didn't work as Bloweyk was completely uninterested in the ladies of good standing to whom his mother introduced him. Instead, he hooked up with a veteran's daughter and moved to a farmstead. When his mother heard of it, she no doubt threw a giant fit. She flat out declared the marriage void. She considered it a slight to the family name. If the head of the household took a lowly farm girl as his wife, House Ferd would be completely humiliated.

Claude had never really dealt with his family. His position always kept him busy enough he didn't have the time. He honestly felt his mother's ego had gotten too big since she started enjoying the good life. She forgot that it was all thanks to Claude that they'd gotten to where they were.

As she mingled with the local socialites, she started to see House Ferd as a renowned family, above the common rabble from whence they'd come. In time, she got used to throwing her weight around. As she aged, her personality regressed to a stubborn child's. She refused her children's advice at almost every turn.

When Bloweyk moved out to the farmstead, she tried to force him to move back in, to no avail. So, she vented her anger on Angelina, thinking she had set a bad example by marrying Myjack.

That had been whilst Angelina was pregnant and close to birth. Naturally, she also fumed from her mother's words, but she was used to being angered and her strong personality allowed her to tough it out after some consolation from Claude. The older Madam Ferd got, the more stubborn she became. Angelina and Bloweyk started to put some distance between themselves and her, so she sought Kefnie to vent her woes.

But in their conversation, she let slip that Kefnie wasn't a good fit for Claude either. She married Claude when their household was still poor and hit the jackpot. The pregnant Kefnie almost flipped. Had it not been her third pregnancy, something bad might've happened. Claude had no choice but to forbid his mother interacting with Angelina and Kefnie just in case.

It only made her persecution complex more severe. She thought none of her children were still filial. When she interacted with her noble lady friends, they all sounded as if their family lives were going well. Only she had problems with her children, it appeared. None of her children or children-in-law listened to her. The family was a joke! The more she agonised over it, the more frustrated she became. Eventually, she blamed it all on the farm girl that had seduced her beloved son and wrote her a chastising letter.

She didn't, not even in her wildest dreams, image it would result in the loss of a human life. She'd only wanted to vent. She thought it would relieve some of her frustration. She wanted her to know she would never be acknowledged as a Ferd even if she birthed Bloweyk's children.

Adele, despite being a hardened orphan, was only tough on the outside. She was sensitive and had an inferiority complex. With her being pregnant and Bloweyk refusing to take her back home and let her stay in the farmstead, she grew suspicious. Her suspicions were confirmed when she received the letter, and she went into early childbirth and lost lots of blood. Even with all the preparations, even a deity might've found it hard to save her, now she had lost all will to live.

She passed in the midst of childbirth. Her death nearly drove Bloweyk insane. When he saw the letter, he finally lost it and beat the messenger into a pulp. The poor soul was saved only by the tiniest grace of a sliver of sanity left in Bloweyk's head.

"Where's the letter?" Claude asked.

Angelina grimaced.

"Bloweyk swallowed it."

"What?"

"He tore the letter into pieces and ate it all. We thought he'd gone mad. He charged at the servant who delivered the letter and beat him up so badly it'll take him a year to recover, and we don't know if he'll actually make a full recovery at all. He returned to Adele's bed when we finally pried him off the poor man and he's been destitute since."

"Where's he now?"

"He should be in the small wooden house out back where Adele lived," she replied exasperatedly, "He's been drinking nonstop. He doesn't care about any attempts at consolation. I worry he will go like grandfather..."

The Ferd household's first head -- and Claude's grandfather -- the lucky Habis, had died drunk in a ditch because he couldn't handle his wife's death.

"I'll go look for him," he said, only to be stopped.

"One more thing... A few days ago, Bloweyk went to Lanu's city administration and deregistered his surname."

"What?! He deregistered?!"

She nodded.

"Ridiculous! Does he not want to be part of this family any longer?! That damned brat... What will happen to his children if he doesn't have a surname?"

Households and families were held proudly in Freia, even for peasants. People who belonged to one were always a step above those who didn't. Surnames represented pedigree and heritage. Without them, families of troops couldn't move to the colonies. One's standing often came from how honourable the family was.

Only those who committed great sins and were exiled, those born into slavery, and released convicts wouldn't have surnames. There were some who intentionally hid theirs out of worry for what their shame would do to their families. While peasants with surnames or not were treated the same according to the Rights of the Four Castes, surnames still held great significance among them. It was more a custom than a legal designation.

Bloweyk had effectively exiled himself from the family. Deregistering meant giving up on his affiliation with the Ferd house. Unable to physically harm his mother, he had chosen this double-edged sword to get back at her.

Claude turned around and saw a teenager about sixteen not far away, glaring at him furiously.

"Who's he?"

"Adele's younger brother, Krimis..." Angelina sighed.

"Old Zoft's son?"

Claude recalled the veteran who had sacrificed himself to save Bloweyk had two children, a son and a daughter. Now that Adele was gone, Krimis was the last one left. It seemed he blamed the entire house for his sister's death.

Claude's head hurt from his mother's antics. She was making enemies for the whole family. He couldn't do anything against the kid. Other things aside, Zoft had died to save Bloweyk. Now, Adele had given birth to twins and died because of his mother. If he killed Krimis, he would be repaying favour with offence. However, in Krimis' eyes he could see a hatred that burned for everyone with the surname Ferd, even Claude.

He could only hope the child's hatred would wash away with time. Perhaps it was pointless, but he could at least let it drag on. He went to Krimis and knelt down to eye level with the boy.

"I'm really sorry, Krimis. None of us saw this coming. I wouldn't have had any problem with your sister marrying into the family had I known of this at all. If only I'd known what was going on before things went this far... But I didn't, and now your sister is gone. I wanted none of this.

"I can't bring your sister back, no matter how much I want to. I can only say I'm sorry for your loss. I know you hate us. I don't blame you. If I were you, I'd want revenge as well. I doubt you will want to stay on the farm. Your father left you a farmstead in Cromwell. If you like, I can prepare your sister's body and you can take her there to be buried in your family's land."

Krimis' hate didn't give. He stared at Claude silently for at least a full minute before he spoke.

"I want to leave with my sister..."

Claude stood up and patted his shoulder.

"Alright. I'll have her cremated and give you her ashes. I will also make all the arrangements so you can take ownership of the farmstead in Cromwell. It's under some of my servant's care for the time being. I also leave all the funds the place has accrued in the last two years to you.

"As for your sister's two children, I will adopt them. You're still young and can't provide a nurturing home to them yet. You're welcome to visit whenever you want, of course. I'll also let them visit you once they're older."

He hoped it would drain some of the bile that poisoned the boy's heart. Krimis nodded solemnly, probably because he was promised he could visit the two anytime and turned to leave.

"You can't adopt them..." Angelina said.

"Why?" Claude asked grimly, turning to her.

"I asked Kefnie about it already and she won't have it. She says she already had enough on her plate."

Claude nearly exploded.

"What do you mean she has too much on her plate? She doesn't have to do anything! The servants do everything for her! All she does all day long is bark orders!"

His sister shook her head.

"Don't forget Bloweyk just renounced the family name. It's not just about having to take care of them. The family is headless and Tesoray is next in line after you. If those two are adopted, however, they're a threat to his succession."

One bloody problem after another! Claude had sidestepped it before, but there was no one to hand it off to this time. The family had owned just a mansion when he'd last passed on the position, but now the family owned more than a million square metres of land, and then there were still the manor and the factories. Even after that there were still the various shares Claude, and via him the family, owned in the Blackstone Arms Factory, the wild-bull company, and at least a dozen other smaller ventures.

Claude would be patriarch, and that made Tesoray the next in line, followed by Beuergarcy. If the twins were adopted without explicit written limitations, the male of the two would butt in in front of Beuergarcy, and even if they wrote up the limitations, the boy would still have a valid argument to voice in the courts to challenge the succession if it ever became an issue. Then there was also the issue of Claude's own sense of justice and fairness. Kefnie no doubt feared he would see the true legitimate heir as his brother's son and would raise him up as the heir apparent instead of his own children.

His face blackened. His mother was not the only one in the family who'd changed. The pure girl he'd grown to love all those years ago on Freia had become a scheming woman, playing the games of family politics. He hated it, but he could do nothing about it. She was his wife and the mother of his children.

"Don't worry about the children. I've already promised Bloweyk I'll adopt them," Angelina slowly revealed.

"I will have a good talk with Mother and Kefnie--" Claude made up his mind. "--I'll go see Bloweyk first though."

He almost couldn't recognise his brother when he finally saw him; his beard was out of control and his clothes were unkempt, in tatters would be more accurate. His bloodshot eyes were fixed to the ceiling. Empty bottles lay strewn all over the floor. He didn't respond to Claude's entry, as if he couldn't see or hear him.

"Drag him out and toss him into the water!" Claude ordered.

Splash!

Bloweyk was tossed into the pond by a few guards. He struggled and choked before he rose back up and coughed out several mouthfuls of water.

Claude tugged on his wet collar and spat.

"Snapped out of it yet? I'll give you another dunk if not. Don't forget you're still a major in the autonomous region! You must always keep yourself in order! You have ten minutes to shake yourself right! Come to me once you're done!"

Bloweyk was beyond communication. He could barely speak. Claude could only place his hopes on the discipline the army had drilled into him over the years.

The man's eyes cleared and his mind settled back into his body. Looking at Claude, he suddenly slumped down and hugged his leg, wailing uncontrollably.

Claude stroked his hair quietly, letting him vent his soul. After some ten minutes Bloweyk's voice started to break and he struggled to catch his breath. Claude dragged him to his feet.

"Have you cried enough?! Shut your trap, then! Go take a bath and get some sleep. We're cremating Adele tomorrow. Her brother will take her ashes to Zoft's farmstead in Cromwell. You will go with them! I'll give you three days after her burial to report back at Wolfang Clan!

"Gum, I want you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he bathes, eats, and sleeps. Only come back after he reports to Wolfang. I don't want him touching a single drop of alcohol, understood?!"

"Yes, General!"

Chapter 494 - Splitting Family Assets

Madam Ferd fell ill. She was panicked, frustrated, and furious. The mixing of so many chaotic emotions bound her to bed.

Claude held Adele's cremation ceremony on Anna Farmstead and handed her ashes to Krimis. Gum and four guards were assigned to escort him to Cromwell and the farmstead his father had left him. Claude then rushed back to Ferd Manor to see his mother and told her what her letter had done.

She at first thought he was joking, but she later learnt from Claude's cold tone that it was all true. She instantly exploded, initially cursing Adele, then crying and begging Claude to bring her beloved Bloweyk to her, saying she would beg for his forgiveness and swear never to arrange a marriage for him and let him do whatever he wanted.

Claude watched her cry, beg, and curse expressionlessly, unmoved. Once she had wrung herself dry, he coldly told her it was too late. That everyone had to bear the consequences of their actions. Bloweyk no longer listened to him, his own brother, and had sworn to never see his mother again.

"You broke the bond with him yourself. You're the reason he is lost to us all. And for what? Your pride? Well, you have it. Now you can rot in it. We're the entire region's biggest joke, and we'll probably be so for the rest of your life, if not longer."

His mother shuddered, then bit back.

"It's you isn't it... You forced Blowk to abandon the family!"

Claude smiled coldly.

"Sorry, Mother. I came here to tell you I won't replace my brother. Since the family name is so important to you, you can have all of it. I don't care who you choose to replace Blowk. I am also no longer part of this family. I'll split everything fairly based on who contributed what, then I'm off. I'm better off making my own family."

His mother collapsed.

Angelina rushed back to treat her and told them she was physically fine, thanks to the years of good nutrition and the region's good air. She was, after all, the mother of General Claude, and had more than enough expensive health products as gifts from the locals. She could definitely live for another two or three decades.

She was suffering mental shock from the fear that the Ferds had really screwed up and lost their reputation for good. She had gone too far. In a moment of impulse, she had decided to vent her frustrations on a woman with child, only to cause a tragedy. She was now known as a petty, shallow, selfish hag. She regretted losing her youngest son as well. If anything, after hearing of his wife's death, she'd hoped it would bring him back to her, not push him over the edge.

But more than that, she was angry that her youngest son would forsake all the care and love she had given him for a lowly farm girl, even lower than her dog. She was also furious at Claude's unfiliality. Not only did he not solve the problem, he even used it to threaten her. He'd treated choosing the next family head as a game.

Claude didn't care what she thought. Being a transmigrator, his affection for his parents had been thin even at the best of times. He cared far more about his siblings. He would always choose to stand by their side. Not to mention, there had been no concept of clans in his previous life, so he didn't see family as more important than all else as the Faslan locals did. He didn't really care whether he became head of House Ferd or not.

However, he was rather troubled with Kefnie, who had, after all, given him three children. They were his true flesh and blood. Then again, due to the fact that his body was not originally his, he wasn't really sure if he could consider the children it wrought truly 'his'. One thing was certain, however: he did enjoy his share of sensual pleasures with her, so he had to take responsibility as the father at least.

Thankfully, Kefnie knew there was no mending the break between Claude and his mother, and that he was utterly furious at her refusal to adopt his niece and nephew, so she went along with his break from the house obediently. She handed back all the shares Claude had put under her care. He left a third of the shares in the family factory to the house, all the land the family owned, and Ferd Manor.

He kept everything else, all of which had been his personal property to begin with. He'd been the sole driving force behind the family's success on the continent, and he'd taken them to incredible heights, but his mother had squandered it all on her pride.

Had it not been for his mother, he would've done his best to make the house a truly glorious one in Faslan as he had initially planned. Myjack, for instance, was a surnameless person thanks to his orphan background. He had wanted to return to his hometown to find out what his surname had been once, but he had lost interest in it after moving to Nubissia.

Claude had wanted to give him the Ferd name and make him one of the family's core pillars, but that was out of the question now. Myjack had to either find out his real surname or claim one for himself and form his own household. With Angelina at his back, perhaps his household might develop better than House Ferd. The thought made Claude feel like he had served a wild boar the finest food he could find on a silver platter.

There was still the matter of choosing his confidants. He properly considered whether he should pick them for House Ferd or for himself. Butler Alek and Staff-Sergeant Kester had expressed their desire to follow him rather than stay with the house in the last couple of days, much to Kefnie's dismay, as she was the one handling the house's business for the time being.

But after the break, she realised there was not much more to handle. Ferd Manor itself was run smoothly by Alek's eldest son and the farm was managed by the retired veteran, Bjarne. As for the tobacco factory, the house only had 30 percent of the shares left. Alek and Kester would be handling that for Angelina in the future.

Claude had put the 30 percent shares under Angelina and Bloweyk's names. For now, Bloweyk's part of the shares would be temporarily handled by his sister as she took care of his children for the next three to four years in the farmstead. She would no longer be able to go to Blackstone and continue weapons research for Claude.

As for the rest of the shares, Claude also let Angelina handle them for him. In some sense, he trusted his sister the most. Only she would give him the money he needed unconditionally without asking questions, unlike Kefnie, who seemed really unwilling to hand over the dividends the shares earned and kept reminding Claude that he had three children to consider. Perhaps that was her motherly instinct to conserve and hoard as much wealth as she could for them so that they could live out the rest of their lives untroubled.

That was the extent of her worldview, being of simple background. What she didn't understand was their children should aspire to emulate Claude, not merely spend his wealth. Otherwise, there was no way they would be able to hold on to their assets after Claude was gone. They would be torn apart by wolves and coyotes.

Claude was also getting sick of her nagging him about Blackstone Arms Factory's accounts. As it had just been formed, most of the profits turned were being reinvested into further weapons research. Sometimes, Claude would have to take more money out of his own pocket for such projects.

Among the shares he left in Kefnie's charge, only Blackstone's didn't turn much dividends. She didn't understand how important the factory was to him and constantly worried about whether they were getting profits from those shares. Oftentimes, she suggested auditing the factory accounts or selling the shares outright.

But with all that gone, Claude's ears finally got some peace. As for whether she felt down about it, that was her matter to deal with. Since she wanted to play noble household, she was free to do so as much as she wished. His mother still didn't understand that House Ferd would be nothing without him. He had decided to find another place in Lanu to live and let his mother and Kefnie see how many people would still visit Ferd Manor once he was no longer there.

Though, it had to be said that part of his motivation was to make a love nest for him and Sheila. He couldn't afford bringing her back to the manor to cause even more strife. However, he would still go back home once every few days for his children.

Next, he was going to put some assets under Angelina and Bloweyk. The former only had a farmstead under her name, which she and Myjack jointly ran. Claude had financed it substantially but owned no stake in it. So, he decided to buy the desolate lands around the farmstead to convert them into a wood. He would also get her a gold mine in Loki Mountains as her dowry of sorts.

Bloweyk was the same. He had given up on the Ferd name and had nothing left. So, Claude got him a business and gold mine as keepsakes. When he grew older, at least he would have a place to return to. Otherwise, he would never remarry. With all those assets under his name, the prospective partner and their family wouldn't be too disappointed either. Even if Bloweyk didn't want them, he could leave them for his and Adele's children.

He also had to give Sonia something. While his illegitimate son, Marcus, would be inheriting Liboyd's household, he had to shower him with some care at least as the father. Sonia also helped him out a lot without ever demanding much from him. But just because she didn't ask for it didn't mean he didn't have to give her anything.

Bloweyk's abandonment of the household whipped up a commotion in Lanu and the region. Fortunately, nobody dared to publish it on account of Claude's high position. It was only mentioned in taverns or private gatherings, becoming folk gossip in no time. Sometimes, dramatic details would be added from time to time, making it a love story of tragic proportions. All Claude could do was to pretend he heard nothing of it.

However, his search for a new home in Lanu did shock Skri, who came to visit with two bottles of fine wine and beat around the bush to ask the real reason Claude was doing so. He didn't bother to hide it and said he wanted to give his mother and wife a lesson and to show that he refused the position of head of House Ferd. So, living further away would be a good idea.

Skri gave Claude an address in the western sector of Lanu. It was just opposite the high-class area where Ferd Manor was located which Skri had bought long ago. He had initially wanted to build a manor there for his family after they moved overseas, but he later received another manor after Lanu's reconstruction in a high-class villa area. Since he didn't have many members in his family, the new manor built on that land of his was left empty.

He was more than happy to oblige Claude, now that he had a need for it. Housing prices in Lanu had risen fewfold and Claude wasn't willing to let him get the short end of the stick. So, after much back and forth, they settled on the sale at 80 percent market price. By the time all that was done, a month had passed. The guard tent at Cromwell brought Sheila back to Lanu. Now, she was the matron of that new manor.

Unlike Claude's family, Sheila much preferred the forest and mountains. The western sector of Lanu was surrounded by hills and green, with streams flowing through them in a serene environment. The only disadvantage was that it was too far from the city centre. Then again, it was much more peaceful that way. Seeing that she liked it there, he decided to buy all the land and hills for her to plant her favourite trees and herbs.

Apart from Skri's manor, there were some ten other rich or famous households in the area that built their smaller vacation houses there. Though, since Claude wanted to buy the land off them, they obliged him without fuss and simply bought more land to build new manors nearby.

After all, since the general was moving there, they would get to bask in the limelight by becoming his neighbours. Selling him their land would earn them a favour. Perhaps they would have a good reason to visit him as a fellow neighbour or invite him to their social functions. Once word of that got out, the housing prices of that area tripled. Even Eiblont came over to join the fuss. Claude sold him a small patch of land for him to build his vacation house to keep Claude company.

Perhaps it was because of their separation for the past decade, Sheila was quite attached to him. He also spoiled her dearly and agreed to let her build a tower on a mountain. However, he didn't want others to recognise it as a magus' tower, so he drew a tower design based on what he saw on old Earth. It would have five storeys and roofs that arched out and upwards -- basically a pagoda. It could also serve as a local landmark.

Sometimes, Sheila put on a military uniform and insisted on following Claude to headquarters. When Eiblont saw her, he shot her a thumbs up and praised her look before turning and slipping away. Three days later, he came with two military-garb-clad women and called them his intimate personal attendants. Seeing how close they were, it was obvious what was going on.

For that, Claude was dragged by Bolonik for a harsh rebuke for starting the trend. Sheila, however, wouldn't have it. She wasn't much weaker than Claude's personal guards, so what was wrong with her dressing up like a soldier? Claude was stuck between a rock and a hard place. With the society of the time being mainly patriarchal, women showing up in the force would only draw unwanted attention. If she was to follow him around, she would have to dress up like a man proper.

Three months had passed since all family matters were settled. During the 9th month, bad news came from the mainland. Due to defaulting on their debts, Aueras was attacked by Nasri. War fell once more on the mainland.

Chapter 495 - Aid

"What did you say?!" Claude looked oddly at Kefnie.

Today was the day he returned to Ferd Manor. He would come back to stay for two nights once every five to six days. He had built himself another residence at the western sector of Lanu and word of a beautiful woman called Sheila should've reached Kefnie some time ago.

However, she didn't say anything about it and pretended not to know. When Claude came back for his stay, she attended to him extra well and gentle. That was where she was smart. She wouldn't get jealous, and that frustrated and annoyed Claude even more.

Either way, he didn't expect to hear from her that his mother could now get out of bed and was doing rather well. She would recover in another month. However, she had someone pick Tesoray up and told Kefnie that she would raise him into a fitting heir for House Ferd. From then on, Tesoray would be given noble education. Famous tutors were hired to teach him all the necessary etiquette and knowhow.

Tesoray was already sixteen. Claude hadn't paid that much attention to him as they weren't that close in the first place. In fact, he was much more attached to her grandmother than his own father. In Claude's eyes, he was merely a rowdy brat who always caused trouble. But whenever he or Kefnie wanted to give him a lasting lesson or punishment, his grandmother would always come out to defend him. It went to a point where he didn't really like his son anymore.

"Hasn't Tesoray just graduated from Lanu Elementary? He's going to middle school next, right? Wasn't I told his grades weren't good and there were often complaints about him bullying other students? What is Mother planning? Is she not going to let him go to middle school?"

Claude had wanted to toss his son into the force for a few years to shape him into a man once he graduated middle school. Whether he would succeed in the future would depend on his efforts.

Yet, his mother was now interfering. Tesoray should've gone to elementary school at twelve, but his mother insisted he stay home one more year, causing his playful personality to develop. By the time he entered elementary school, he was a year older and much stronger than the other kids, making him the local bully. Now he was to learn noble etiquette... Was she going to have him skip middle school entirely?

"Mother believes there's no need since the instructors in middle school aren't famous. Apart from complaining, they don't do much. It's a waste of his potential. Tesoray will be properly educated in the nobles' ways at home. He shouldn't be mingled with the common rabble in school. What if he learns a bad habit from them?" Kefnie said.

"Hahaha..."

Claude's fury bubbled over in a couple short, sour laughs. Did they not know why the instructors at school were complaining? If not for his father's position, Tesoray would've been punished very severely for his antics. Claude could remember the punishments his body's former owner had gotten.

Morssen had already been the town's chief administrator, but the instructors didn't care. Actually, he was now all but certain his father had instructed his teachers to be extra harsh on him. He'd also always get a second beating from his father when he returned home. Because of his position, and he had no doubt his mother played on that every chance she got, the instructors didn't dare lay a finger on his brat child. All they could do was lodge complaints.

Kefnie and his mother just brushed everything off as youthful mischief. Because Tesoray was never corrected, he kept getting worse, and now everyone feared him. Everyone blamed Claude for his son's bad behaviour. Discipline was the father's responsibility, after all.

The brat had been tested for magic, but he didn't have a drop of potential, so Angelina could be of little use in shaping the kid up. Bloweyk had managed to be whipped into a fine man despite being quite the naughty child, but with Kefnie and Madam Ferd around, Angelina couldn't do the same for Tesoray, especially not when she had three children of her own.

"Do whatever you want," Claude sighed, all but giving up on his son.

He wanted to see what the so-called education they had in mind could produce. Only his mother treated Tesoray like a misunderstood and talented child whose potential would be squandered in middle school. What kind of talent did he have? Bullying?

Old Earth had a saying: 'one's character manifests at three and one's talents form at seven'. Claude's grandfather often used it to encourage him to adopt good life habits and manners.

It was one of the main reasons he disliked his eldest son. Claude had been away for most of his children's lives. His absenteeism meant he was all but an abstract concept to his children. They cared little for his scoldings when he was home because they knew he'd be gone again soon and everything would go back to normal. At the same time, Claude only realised how badly their upbringing had gone off the rails when it was already too late to do anything with the limited moments he had with them. At best he could hope for the brat to stay out of prison, and unstabbed and unpoisoned for the rest of his life.

Tesoray was barely a fart compared to Claude's bastard, Marcus. Marcus was 18 and a three-ring magus. He had decided to sign on to the army after his birthday to go through the same trials and hardship Claude had.

Unfortunately, he was a Liboyd, not a Ferd, so he could not be a replacement for Claude's failed son. He knew Marcus idolised him because of his military legend. It was why Marcus wanted to become a soldier. He'd fought quite a few fights with his mother over it. Sonia was so set against it she even resented Claude. She'd even taken to pestering Claude to impregnate her again so she could raise a more obedient child.

Claude shook his head and collected his thoughts. He had decided to not lay hands on the matter. No matter how Tesoray's education turned out, he would toss him into the army and let him find his own way. Now, however, it seemed his wife and mother really thought they were above the rest and saw House Ferd as some noble family. At the very least, he hoped Tesoray could pick up on the better aspects of nobility.

"Get some rest first. Also, I need food and drinks in the study. I'm having some guests over and we might talk 'till late," he said.

The guests were Eiblont and Skri. They were coming to discuss the matter of reinforcing the mainland. The royal capital had sent ambassadors to the region yet again a month earlier. However, they were not there to negotiate the restoration of the relationship between the region and the mainland, but rather, to request the region for support in huge amounts of agricultural and mineral resources to lessen the economic blow the war with Nasri would have.

The war started three months ago with the Shiksans launching the first strike. Before Aueras could react, they took three Aueran prefectures at the border. Aueras, having endured a harsh slap on the face, flared like a raging bear that awoke mid-hibernation. For Nasri, their inferior nemesis, to launch an attack first was the greatest humiliation the kingdom had suffered.

Reddragon stole the show at the borders fighting numbers double their own. Not only did they manage to drive two Nasrian standing corps back, they claimed the two border prefectures they lost. A large siege was later fought in the last prefecture, Wustia. Reddragon had to wait for further reinforcements after two more Nasrian corps came to reinforce their own.

The war over the debt was bad news for the still-recovering Aueras. It was a war they were forced to fight. Just when the economy was taking a turn for good, hostilities erupted and their harvests plummeted. The kingdom required all sorts of military equipment and food to alleviate the bad harvests to stop another wave of refugees from developing.

The ambassadors that came this time weren't sent by Fredrey I, but rather, the new prime minister of the kingdom and representative of the old nobility, Marquis Blancarte. He hoped that the region could provide food and agricultural products in bulk to help the suffering prefectures as well as supply mineral resources the kingdom's industrial complexes could use to produce military gear.

Naturally, they also promised a few concessions of their own, such as no longer sending viceroys or high-commissioners to the region and only asking for them to change their name designation back to colonies. They could retain their military rule and council, but would have to pay tributes and taxes. The capital would also send auditors to the colonies, but the administration would have to be handed over to the capital.

Had Skri not stepped in to stop it, Bolonik would've agreed to all those conditions. To Bolonik, the capital had already taken a huge step backwards and more than compromised to the region. Changing the name was inconsequential so long as they could keep their troops and council, which were their guarantees. The conditions were too agreeable for him.

However, Skri was still quite alert. The capital was merely trying to start soft before going in hard by slowly robbing the region of its autonomy. Had Bolonik agreed to it, he would've been demanded to resign by the council.

Even though the council would be kept, the administration being in the capital's hands meant prospective council members would have to get permission from the capital. If any council member wanted to let their descendants inherit their position but the capital didn't agree, they would essentially be removed from the hierarchy of the region. It was something the council members wouldn't tolerate.

Nobody would willingly submit to a bossy superior if they had the choice. If the capital controlled personnel, the region's council members would have to first be vetted by the members of the higher and lower houses in the mainland first. They might even be stripped of their rights as council members.

They were now the top dogs of the region and had a say in all policies and judiciary matters. They held high regard among the seven million citizens of the region. None of them would endure going to the capital like a graduate going for a job interview only to be derided as bumpkins who happened to get rich.

Not to mention, having auditors sent to the region was akin to letting the capital interfere with the region's financial matters, which would have huge negative implications for the region. Other things aside, if the tax amounts of the region was exposed, the hungry wolves at the colonies would no doubt want to demand more and more.

Bolonik let out cold sweat when it properly dawned on him. He almost fell for their trap. He hurriedly summoned the council to properly analyse the kingdom's conditions, leaving the ambassadors hanging for half a month. The war was raging on the kingdom anyway and the region was not in a rush to close the deal.

Two days ago, however, the ambassadors received another letter from the mainland. From then on, they went knocking on the council's office at headquarters daily. They said the first symptoms of the lack of food were beginning to show and asked the region to help out their fellow kin on the mainland by sending them huge shipments of food before the end of the year.

Losing his patience with the ambassadors, Bolonik tossed the problem to Claude, Skri and Eiblont. Had Birkin not been in the distant Loducus, he would've wanted to join the discussion as well.

Birkin was there because the lease agreement between Shiks and Fochs ended that year. Monolith 2nd Folk would return to Loki Mountains after their long stay in Lodocus since the end of the war, putting an end to their occupation there. Birkin had to deal with the proceedings and formalities.

"Did the kingdom really have harvests that bad? Will many prefectures starve in the coming year? Isn't the weather in recent years rather good? Why did it turn out like that?" Skri wasn't inclined to believe the ambassadors' words.

"The informants we sent told us the same," Skri said, "The kingdom lost two-thirds of their previous harvests mainly due to the civil war and the farming infrastructure damaged by the refugees. They've been in disrepair ever since.

"It isn't obvious from the small-scale farming efforts last year. They only noticed these issues when they tried to farm more. Due to manpower and budget limits, however, as well as the tendency of local officials to try to keep bad news under wraps, the issue only came to light during the autumn harvests. Had the debt war not erupted, the kingdom might've been able to hold on.

"A sum of money was all that was needed for the infrastructure to be repaired, such as the irrigation routes. Then, good harvests would return next year. But the war really came too suddenly. Most available funding has been diverted to war efforts. They're helpless against the upcoming famine now and had no choice but to beg us for help."

There was another reason that couldn't be spoken openly about. Back during Stellin X's reign, there had been instances of famines, though the kingdom managed to endure them mainly because of the colonies' aid.

Back then, the colonies were merely places from which the kingdom robbed resources, whether they be agricultural or mineral goods. They were sold to the mainland at prices so cheap they barely made any profit. Such trades had sustained nearly two decades of economic development. The disruption of the balance of power culminated in the Alliance of Five Nations against Aueras.

However, the five-year war pushed all that progress back to the starting point. Though Aueras was the undisputed victor, the colonial conflict with Shiks prevented the kingdom from growing prosperous once more. The civil war and Stellin XI's antics were what drove the kingdom past the point of no return.

By the time the colonies finally won, their relationship with the kingdom was beyond salvation. They started to self-govern and no longer provided any support. Even after the fourth prince, Fredrey, took the throne and pulled the kingdom back on the proper path, it was too little too late before the famine. The kingdom couldn't afford to take another blow like that, so they had to turn to the region for help.

Chapter 496 - Ironclad and Stahlhelm

Negotiations with the ambassadors fell apart once more. In their eyes, the region had truly committed treason this time around. Not only did they not agree to their demands, they also wanted to use the kingdom's crisis as a chance to effectively gain independent rule. What could that be other than treason?

Claude being the head of the region's military, stated that they could be affiliated to Aueras and submit to them in name and take an identical stance to them when it came to foreign policy. However, all administration, policies, staffing, finances and military matters were to be independent from the kingdom. However, they could accept having the ministry of the army preside over their troops in name. The region would send in lists of people to be promoted, but they were merely notices and they wouldn't require the kingdom's permission.

Apart from that, the council's executive committee also demanded a few conditions with regards to maritime trade, such as tax exemptions or rebates for their goods in Aueras. Back then, the kingdom's goods enjoyed the same benefits whereas anything sold from the colonies had to be taxed heavily. It was yet another suppression tactic the kingdom used on them.

In some sense, the kingdom didn't really have a choice but to adopt such policies. Stellin X really did have quite good foresight in this regard. With the colonies occupying so much territory and being so rich in resources, importing them all to the kingdom for manufacturing would greatly decrease production costs.

Had the kingdom not suppressed the colonies, the wealth of the kingdom would quickly flow the other way. Displacement of wealth also implied huge emigration to the colonies as production required large numbers of skilled technicians and workers. By the time the colonies developed enough, the kingdom would have a hard time holding the leash on them. They were separated by the Tranquil Ocean, which would give them hardly enough time to react to the multitudes of unstable elements in the colonies. That was why all the colonies had to be was a place to produce raw material for the kingdom.

However, the colonial wars changed everything and led to this day. As Stellin X foresaw, economic development in the colonies caused them to break free from the kingdom's control. Never again would they be a mere raw-material producer for the kingdom.

The reason the committee brought out those conditions was the region could now produce the products the kingdom needed at better prices, quality and quantity. In the eyes of the committee, the 27 million people in the mainland were a huge market. The removal of tariffs thus became their first priority.

There were other conditions stipulated with regards to trade, all targeted towards abolishing the monopolistic policies of the old nobility and the new nobility on the mainland, such as the fixing of prices, allowing only one company to operate in a certain area and so on. What the region wanted was a free market. They weren't afraid of competition.

The true push for a free market came mainly from the council members who had involvement with the means of production. They weren't like the new nobility of the kingdom who merely paid lip service to the idea of free market when in fact they wanted a monopoly and forbade competition.

The region was quite brash in that regard and welcomed competition. They only wanted fair business practices and licences to trade. As long as the region was allowed to do business on the mainland, they were confident they could completely crush all competition with their competitive pricing and quality.

To encourage the ambassadors to agree to those terms, they also agreed to hand in a tax sum of 300 thousand crowns to the kingdom and 100 thousand in tribute to the Stellin royal family itself. They would also throw in a one-time donation of agricultural products worth 1.2 million crowns, which was the total of the above-mentioned tribute amount over the past three years since the wars ended.

As for mineral resources, the committee refused to provide them for free, but would agree to loan them some money for a subsidy to sell them to the kingdom for 80 percent of the price to help the kingdom with production of military gear. The mortgage for the low-interest loan would be the yearly tribute and tax to be provided to the kingdom.

However, the ambassadors thought the conditions were ludicrous and angrily refused, cutting off negotiations altogether without bothering to forward the terms to the mainland for further discussion.

But as the kingdom was in dire straits, the ambassadors tried their best to curry favour with the council members personally and finally got the council to approve one thing: the transport of agricultural goods worth 1.2 million crowns to stave off the famine. They also agreed that the goods would in effect be payment for the taxes and tributes for this and the past two years, which the ambassadors signed in writing.

After that was done, the ambassadors returned to the mainland with their supplies. As far as they were concerned, that was enough to call their mission a success. Those goods would be able to help them survive the famine if they rationed them properly.

Claude and the rest were relieved they managed to deal with them and get them to leave. There were far too many more important affairs in the region that they could no longer afford to deal with the ambassadors any longer. Those goods provided were not worth much to the council members anyway. With the region already so prosperous, nobody wished to go back to the days when they were still ruled by the kingdom.

This time around, Claude went to Port Patres in Robisto to set the design for the first batch of ironclad warships. After three tests, Liboyd finally admitted that Claude's design for the ships made more sense. He removed the firing windows on the sides of the ship for the smaller cannons under the deck and installed a heavy cannon at the front while also increasing the ballasts' size to better balance the ship.

However, the shape of the ship still looked a little too oval to Claude and not long enough. More importantly, Liboyd was still unwilling to get rid of those three masts with the reason that the ship could still sail with the winds if they ever ran out of coal. That way, slow as they would be, they'd still be able to return to a port.

Claude didn't want to argue over that aspect again. Liboyd was, after all, not a ship specialist and had learned it along the way. He had grown up seeing nothing but sail ships and his design echoed them as well. Claude only hoped that he would slowly improve upon them batch after batch.

There were six in the first batch of ironclad warships. The three three-masted sail-steam hybrids were called destroyers by Claude. Each had six middle-class-ship cannons, basically enlarged versions of light-infantry ones, with four at the front and two at the rear. On the flanks were three fixed ship versions of light-infantry cannons.

During the test firing, the heavy cannon was able to fire up to two thousand metres away whereas the light cannons on the flanks could shoot up to 1200 metres away. At present, sail boats only started shooting at each other when they were around three hundred metres apart before going in for boarding. The ironclad warships were way ahead of the rest of them; it was a whole new technological paradigm. The only concern was having to find cannoneers with really good eyesight who could aim incredibly well, mainly really experienced cannoneers. Claude wasn't capable of making sights that accurate for cannons.

As the admiral of the region's own long-distance patrol fleet, Moriad was among the first to check the ship out. He was totally smitten with it, even telling Claude that whether they managed to hit the enemy wouldn't matter since they wouldn't be able to hit them if they were that far away. Not to mention, if shooting wasn't going to work, they could go for ramming. They would be able to take ten times their number.

Nowadays, Port Patres had been developed into the largest shipyard in the region. To accommodate the construction of the warships, the five generals gathered the council members to invest in a new metal refinery near the port to produce the stainless-steel plates required for the warships. They even hired two rune magi for the highest of salaries and best of benefits to research how to produce steel plates with great resistance to corrosion and unique properties.

In the long-term plans of the region, a fleet of more than 40 ironclad warships was to be formed, tacked on with another hundred plus ironclad transport ships. The total amount of money invested into that plan was 12 million crowns. It would be implemented in the course of ten years, so the funds would also be split across the years. Once the fleet was complete, it was projected they would be able to make that money back in three to four years from maritime trade.

However, the ironclad warships were very much a concept still in testing, with many vestiges from the Age of Sail. Had it not been for Claude's insistence, Liboyd even wanted to remove the ballasts from the design. He believed only wooden ships required ballasts since they weren't tough enough whereas one made of such thick metal plates would be spared from leaking and sinking.

Thankfully, Claude managed to convince him that the sinking of metal would be even faster without ballasts, so spending an extra month to add those in would definitely be worth it. Liboyd had intended to wrap up work on those six ships during the 4th month and make another patrol ship Claude called a five-masted class-2 sail warship.

By the time Claude returned to Lanu, it was the 1st month of Year 599. It wasn't that he didn't want to return to his home to spend new year's even with his mother and wife, but Sheila started throwing a tantrum, knowing that Claude would leave her sad and lonely if he did go back. So, she pestered him and insisted on going to the seaside for walks daily, saying how much she loved the sea and forcing him to stay in Port Patres with her on new year's eve.

In the end, he spent more than two months enjoying the ocean breeze with Sheila there. After new year's eve, Sheila more or less had enough of the place and seafood, so they returned to Lanu. Naturally, she knew the reason Claude went along with her whims was he felt bad for not meeting her for the past ten years. So, she hurried him home the moment they reached Squirrel Manor in the western sector of Lanu.

Ferd Manor was truly deserted during new year's eve and the next day itself. Basically, nobody bothered to visit the place, save for the ladies that usually hung out with Kefnie and Madam Ferd. Even then, they only made brief visits before leaving, much to the two hosts' surprise. Madam Ferd had prepared a speech, but there was nobody to present it to!

"Why have you only come back right now?" She blamed the lack of guests all on Claude's absence.

He merely said he was far too busy with work.

However, she complained that the war was over and there shouldn't be that much more to do. Since he didn't have to go to the battlefield, couldn't he at least stay home for two days?

Claude merely smiled in resignation. There was no way he was going to get through her. She brought up Morssen as an example, citing that he could go home every night no matter how busy he was as the town's chief administrator and even host guests from time to time.

She droned on about the good times during House Ferd's glorious days in Whitestag, boasting that everybody gave her discounts while shopping. If Claude, being a general, still had to run about like an errand boy and couldn't return home more than a couple times a year, he might as well resign.

His mother was probably the only person in the world who would compare the position of a commander-in-chief and general with a chief administrator of a mere town and even come to the conclusion that Morssen was doing much better than his son. Claude looked at Kefnie and wondered if she intentionally told his mother about Sheila to get back at him. However, she acted completely normally and removed his uniform before helping him to change into casual wear like she always did.

The moment he reached home, someone came to visit. It was Weyblon and his wife. Madam Ferd was elated that she finally had someone to blabber to and ran off with Weyblon's wife on a gossip-filled tea party. Weyblon, on the other hand, was there to report good news to Claude. He had managed to forge his killer product in the factory in Lanu: the steel helmet Claude suggested.

He even brought a production sample along with him. It was slightly rounded at the top complete with a spike. Both sides of the helmet had protrusions with holes in them for fastening some internal cushioning onto them. With the cushioning, there was no need to worry about a shattered skull or heavy concussion once the bullet was deflected. He had finally finished the task Claude assigned him.

What Claude didn't understand, however, was the spiked top.

Weyblon explained that the craftsmen of the factory found a normal, rounded, steel design really ugly. So, they put a spike on top to make it more intimidating.

Claude could only shake his head. Helmets were helmets -- mere tools to give soldiers adequate head protection. Their main function was to protect against muskets and shrapnel in this era, so there was no need to be that fancy. Putting a spike on top and foregoing the unibody construction of a simple round top would rid the helmets of their practical purpose. Putting a spike meant having to puncture a hole first for the spike to go through, which would render it unable to be used as a bowl or pot in times of need.

Had it not been for the casualty reports he had read, he wouldn't have asked Weyblon to make him a helmet. When he read that six-tenths of shoulders on the battlefield died because shrapnel or bullets struck their head, the idea immediately occurred to him.

"Remove this spike. We can't have holes on the top of the helmet." By the time he finished his explanation on its practicality, Weyblon said he would deal with it immediately.

"Take these few helmets to headquarters first for General Bolonik to inspect. Once it passes the requirements, we'll order 200 thousand of them for our two corps first. As for whether the garrison forces need them, it's still under consideration," Claude said after some thought. "Once these are done, experiment on making the military shovel I drew for you the last time. This equipment will soon be standard issue in our forces. There's a lot of profit to be made."

Chapter 497 - Declaration of War

"You're saying this helmet can greatly decrease casualties?" Bolonik was quite dissatisfied with the recent changes in uniform Claude ushered in. To him, changing the bright-red uniforms to a khaki grey made the troops lose much of their heroic air. Being used to dressing in the gaudy, red ones, the change affected him rather personally.

Claude didn't really have any better ideas. There weren't many types of cloth for him to pick from. Usually, they wore fine linen in summer, fur in winter, and a mixed patchwork cloth in autumn and spring. As for dyes, Claude wanted to look for the familiar olive green, but it simply didn't exist. So, he picked khaki grey. Compared to the bright-red uniforms, the troops suddenly looked like they changed from proud palace guards to a bunch of mercenaries hired by poor locals.

Since the colours didn't look great, Claude made it up with dashing design. He modelled them after the uniforms of the German Schutzstaffel. They had the best-looking uniforms and it left a huge impression on him. It was also a design whose beauty was acknowledged by netizens worldwide. The other uniform that he fused into the design was that of his country in his previous life. Not signing up for the military and choosing instead to enter college as a freshman was one of the things he regretted the most. It was a shame he didn't grab that chance.

He didn't care about Bolonik's displeasure since the soldiers didn't need pretty uniforms, but ones that could help them survive. At the very least, muted colours weren't as obvious as bright ones on the battlefield and helped camouflaged them somewhat. It was too bad Claude couldn't make a proper camouflage pattern. However, he did manage to make ghillie suits using a few tricks.

Now that Claude was going to change their straight army caps to one that looked no different from an iron bowl, Bolonik found that it looked even worse. It almost seemed like they were marching into battle with a tortoise on their heads.

"The helmets are only worn in battle. The normal hats can be worn on normal occasions," Claude replied without much of a care, "As for whether it's effective, let's test it out."

All the high-ranking officers were gathered at the large testing field of the factory in Lanu. There were many trenches there, as well as an explosive-testing area. More than ten wooden figures were clad in uniforms and metal helmets before they were placed in the trenches with only the helmets visible.

First, they tested using the Aubass Mark 3 instead of Sonia 591. A band of men shot three volleys from a hundred metres away before bringing the wooden figures to the generals.

The truth was laid bare just like that. Apart from three figures who were shot squarely in the face, the rest were fine. Dents were left behind on the helmet at the points of impact, but not a single one shot through the steel helmets. It didn't so much as make a small hole. To the folks used to lead bullets, these steel helmets just seemed like an innovation that would completely render them useless.

Bolonik rubbed the dent with his finger where the bullet had deflected off, causing the khaki-grey paint to chip off. Suddenly inspired, he asked a soldier to put one figure back into the trenches while he shot at it with a Sonia 591.

He quickly emptied a clip with rather decent marksmanship -- he could basically hit a target a hundred metres away accurately. After six shots, the soldiers retrieved the figure and reported that of the six bullets, two of them flew past the helmet, one of them left a long scratch on it-- and the remaining three struck it squarely and left three indents, but no punctures.

"It looks like you're right. While this thing looks rather bad, it works well. It can indeed keep our troops alive on the battlefield," Bolonik said understandingly.

"That's not all. We haven't even tested the effects of mortars yet." Claude ordered his men to set the ten wooden figures back into the trenches with helmets on before launching three volleys in rapid succession.

There was a tent of operators split into four groups. They fired twelve rounds in total.

After a round of deafening explosions, the soldiers collected the broken wooden figures. About three to four of them lost some limbs and had their uniforms torn up by the shrapnel. The casualties were estimated to be fifty percent.

What shocked the officers, however, was how the heads of the figures were kept in proper condition. On the helmets were many scratches, with the most obvious one being a piece of thumb-sized shrapnel embedded in one, though not more than a centimetre deep. A soldier wearing one such helmet would only suffer light injuries if the body was in good cover and the head was mildly exposed.

Bolonik rubbed the helmet as he said, "It's not that heavy. Claude, have you thought about making steel breastplates? That way, our light-cavalry troops will have much better protection in charges."

"Ah?" Claude said with a start, "I... I really haven't considered it before..."

Eiblont chimed in, "It's a wonderful idea. While Thundercrash is mainly mounted infantry and focuses on mobility, firepower and defence, there are times when we employ intercepting charges as well. With armour like that, we'll be able to form a rather good defence against enemy guns."

There were instances of breastplates for cavalry used in the kingdom before, but they were made from thick iron plates. If they were too thin, they wouldn't be able to block bullets, but making them thick made them too heavy, causing the cavalrymen's mobility to suffer as a result. If they used mithril to make breastplates, however, it would cost too much. In the end, they were phased out for being impractical.

Bolonik nodded.

"I estimate it at four or five catties, so it wouldn't affect mobility on horseback. We can test this out. If it is suitable, we'll arm Monolith with breastplates too. That way, we'll be able to gain quite the advantage by charging into enemy formations and in melees."

Claude scratched his head at the thought that their troops would one day don full armour like knights of old, except they would be wielding their new rifles instead of lances. After some thought, he said, "Since Mister Weyblon is responsible for this, you can ask him whether it's possible. The core factor would be the rate of production of the steel plates. I'm going to order 200 thousand steel helmets for our troops."

As Bolonik waved for Weyblon to come over, he said, "It's fine. Let's make the helmets first while we test the breastplate out more to make sure the weight won't be a problem in actual battle."

In the middle of the 3rd month of Year 599, a piece of shocking news began to spread. Shiks represented the nations of Eastern Freia in declaring war against Aueras. In other words, Shiks, Nasri, Canas, and the newly reinstated Sidins and Rimodra formed a union to fight Aueras. The second Eastern-Freian war began just like that, but this time, nobody knew whether it would last five years or more.

The first Eastern-Freian war lasted five years, instigated first by Aueras against the Union formed by Nasri, Canas, Sidins, Rimodra and Askilin. Back then, Aueras was a strong nation with wealth gathered over the past two decades. It was filled with confidence and didn't fear fighting against five foes at once. Their victory in the war proved that point. While it was a pyrrhic victory, they were still the ultimate victor.

Now, five other nations were at war with Aueras again, with Shiks replacing Askilin. The Union was now the one that held the advantage, especially with Shiks' participation. Even though they were constantly beaten out on Nubissia and had been embarrassed so badly to the point they were often mocked, they were still a powerful nation on Freia with considerable military might.

Currently, Aueras could be said to be in the weakest point of its history. The five-year war had drained most of their accumulated wealth and the colonial wars stumped the possibility of any economic development. The civil war further destabilised the kingdom, fracturing it and forcing people to pick sides. Once the kingdom was ravaged by the war, Stellin XI emerged victorious and went on a spending spree. Only after Fredrey I took the throne did the kingdom begin to recover.

But right after that, there was the war for the debt as well as the famine that threatened to ravage through two-thirds of the kingdom's prefectures. The kingdom spared no effort and finally managed to get some food to relieve their plight. Good news was also coming from the frontlines that they were slowly beating back the Nasrian forces. Just as they were about to counter invade Nasri, however, the new Union of Eastern Freia declared war against it!

Nobody had high hopes for Aueras' situation. They were up against far too many foes. The neighbouring observer nations estimated Aueras would only be able to struggle for a few months to half a year at most before surrendering or clamouring for peace. If they were lucky, they would survive after ceding a few prefectures, but if they weren't, they could end up being exterminated entirely.

"It's a trap! The dogshit Union is going to entrap our king! That war of debt was the bait!" Bolonik roared as he slammed the table before he paced around the meeting room.

The tragic thing was even though a maritime route to the kingdom had been established, with many private vessels sailing between the two territories, word of the declaration actually came from the western coast. It was obvious that Griffon, stationed at Whitestag, had tried to hide it from the region.

"The war started once the royal guard sent two folks of reinforcements to the frontlines to fight alongside Reddragon at Wustia. They baited the enemy deep and managed to eliminate one Nasrian standing corps before launching a counterattack. Nasri's defences crumbled into a pathetic retreat and the royal guard managed to recapture the last border prefecture while sending a vanguard to continue pursuing Nasrian troops into their territory," Birkin said, having just rushed back from Loki Mountains with the report he got from the western coast. "The Union, led by Shiks, used our troop presence in Nasri as an excuse to declare war against us. This publication, 'Spearhead Forum', states that the other four nations of the Union long had plans to involve themselves in the war over the debt. So, they already had eight standing corps stationed at the border in preparation for the declaration."

Claude rapped his fingers on the desk as he said, "Even if the nations were already in on it together to use that as an excuse, what did the kingdom do? Why did they stop the news from getting to us?"

Birkin said, "Our kingdom has retreated all troops from Nasrian territory and set up defences at the borders of the four nations. They also sent ambassadors to those nations with the intent of stopping the war before it truly starts.

"However, the pundits don't seem to hold high hopes for that. The Union is intentionally targeting our kingdom and managed to find an excuse after so long. They definitely wouldn't give up on a chance like this. Majid III himself declared that he would exterminate the source of all wars in Eastern Freia, Aueras..."

Wham! Eiblont slammed the desk with his fist, much to the others' shock. He grit his teeth and roared, "What the hell, Majid III caused all the wars himself! Is he trying to turn his attention to the kingdom, now that they can't attack us anymore? If he has the balls, he should continue the war here!"

Claude chuckled audibly. This time around, even if Shiks sent 20 standing corps to them, he was still confident he could take them all out with only two. The development they've had over three years of peace saw not only their main forces being equipped with new rifles but their garrison forces as well. They only lacked an improved light-infantry cannon the main forces had.

"Don't look at me," Claude said, stifling his laughter, "It's not that Shiks doesn't want to send ten corps here. They simply can't. Even if they want to, they don't even have that many soldiers yet. Why don't we send an ambassador to Majid III and tell him we'll hand him Port Vebator so he can send another ten corps here to continue the colonial wars? Do you think he'll agree?"

The others broke into mad laughter. Majid III wasn't that stupid to the point he would send his own men to the region as free labourers.

Eiblont, however, still seemed rather dissatisfied. "It's too bad we can't go back to fight the war. Otherwise, with our might, we can easily swat away all the armies on Freia. As a soldier, it truly feels infuriating to see a war pass you by without being able to join in!"

"Hmph, you're not a soldier, you're a bully!" Birkin mocked without mercy. "If not for the new weapons that allow us to dominate, you wouldn't be so eager to jump in. Don't forget our greatest weakness: logistical support. Even if we can take on ten times our number, we'll need to be able to support such an undertaking. Without ammunition, our new rifles and cannons are useless!"

When they were still using normal muskets, they could mix up some gunpowder lying around and even use small stones as bullets. The gunpowder used for cannons was compatible with that of the muskets. However, the new rifles easily spent the specially made bullets in a couple of moments.

Not to mention, the rounds used by the new cannons were more than ten times the sizes of rifle cartridges. It could shoot far and explode with great force. Even shield carts and mortars wouldn't be able to stand up to those cannons. They would be wiped out without exception, hence Eiblont's inflated confidence. However, if they were unable to keep the ammunition supplied, it would be over for them. The new cannons couldn't use scattershot like the old ones, after all.

Bolonik said while gritting his teeth, "The kingdom really is too far away. We can't join the war even if we want to..."

It was then when someone knocked on the door and interrupted their meeting.

"Come in," Skri said.

A strategist on duty at headquarters came in with an eagle message. "Sirs, Port Cobius sent an urgent letter that ambassadors from the kingdom had come to us to ask for reinforcements..."

Chapter 498 - Chasing Ambassador's Away and Maria's Arrival

The ambassadors had come back with new conditions which mostly satisfied all the region's requirements. They agreed it could administer itself in terms of the executive, promotions, finances, taxes, economic development, and the military. Only their policies would be subject to review by the mainland. They had to gain the mainland's permission for any new policies before they were enacted.

Of all the trade proposals the region had made, the mainland had agreed only to allow people and goods to move between the colonies and the mainland freely, and for the region to produce basically what they were already producing. They did not accept the suggestion that they lower their tariffs.

The ambassadors justified the retention of the tariffs with the kingdom being in dire need for funds with the war. They suggested the issue be revisited after the war.

The rest of the agreements weren't outright rejected, but instead, the final decision on them was postponed with the implication that it was inappropriate to discuss or consider them whilst the war was still raging. They instead suggested that regional entrepreneurs enter partnerships with powerful mainland nobles and let them handle the sale of their products.

They were trying to turn the colonies into an offshore factory while the mainland nobles profited off everything without doing anything.

The council was split over whether to accept the new set of conditions or reject it, and couldn't come to a decision. One side said it was acceptable to cooperate with the mainland nobles, unfair and corrupt as the arrangement was, as long as they could still make a decent profit from it, whilst the other was unwilling to become basically outsourced labour off of which the mainland nobles could leech just like they did with everything else on which they could lay their greedy fingers. The latter faction wanted to demand import permissions from the kingdom or have nothing to do with them.

The permits would let them export their products to the mainland without paying any import duties or taxes. These taxes were usually used to prevent foreign mass-produced goods from undermining and destroying local industries.

Besides all the duties and import taxes, these permits also allowed for on-the-spot sales. Products imported without permits had to have registered sales destinations or 'pre-import purchase registrants', i.e. they had to have a designated buyer before they were imported. If the caravan came across a town or city with a sudden need for their products on their way, they could not just sell their products there if the products were registered for a different destination.

The hardliners demanded to have this freedom. They wanted to be able to sell where and to whom they wanted, and to be able to buy whatever they could find at a good price to take back home. The mainland was not having it, however. They were not going to undercut the local market lords, most of whom were either backed by old nobles, or had strong influence with the prefectural administrations and legislatures.

The other issue was the mainland-set prices. Under the conditions offered by the ambassadors, the region merchants would have no say on the prices at which their products were sold. That power lay entirely in their mainland partners' hands.

They had little faith in those nobles to not arbitrarily set the prices to maintain their monopolies and ensure the region merchants didn't gain a foothold in the market. Their price fixing was one of the main reasons why smuggling was so rampant throughout the kingdom. The smugglers' target buyers were rich local tycoons that bought their goods from small merchants and sold them in small batches, which didn't fulfill the region's requirement for large-scale trade.

Then there were the still clearly unreasonable conditions. Griffon must have been afraid the region was getting too good a deal, so they demanded they provide three million crowns' worth of free food for the next two years and five millions crowns of other urgently needed supplies. On top of that they still demanded 1.5 million in annual taxes.

On the military front, they were demanding 300 thousand new rifles as well as enough munitions for them as well as a handover of the designs and manufacturing processes, for free of course.

Not even Bolonik could keep down his laughter when he heard that last demand. By what authority was the kingdom making these demands? They'd made nothing but empty, minor concessions at best, but demanded the world in return. They would have autonomy in name only, with the mainland having de jure veto over any policy they proposed.

Their withholding of the trade permits was also hot air. The smugglers would be more than happy to continue dealing with the region, and under the conditions the mainland was offering, it might actually be more profitable to continue working with the smugglers as well.

As for their demands on the military front... They must have no clue how expensive research and development was. The region still had two million crowns of debt from their development of the rifles and their munitions.

Claude had learnt his lesson from the mortar incident. He'd sold licenses for their production to the mainland, and after they'd won their fight with the first prince, the old nobility who'd bought the licenses sold the plans to every nitwit willing to pay for it and now every country on the entire continent had knockoffs.

Birkin had been completely floored when Shiks had shown up with their own mortars. He had never imagined their own inventions would be used against them when no one was supposed to know how to make them.

That move was their greatest regret, and they were not about to make that mistake a second time. They'd paid dearly for this lesson.

The Sonia 591s represented the pinnacle of weaponry yet achieved. The region was not going to give them to anyone, especially not without massive compensation. Even if Claude was to accept it, the other generals would block any deal of the like on the grounds that their national security could not afford it.

Since Bolonik knew the most crucial part of the rifles were the cartridges, and without a particular mixture of ignition powder, misfires were bound to happen, there was no guarantee the rune magi serving the nobles couldn't develop a similar substance.

Take the revolver designs Claude had also sold to the old nobility for example. The old nobility produced ones exactly the same, selling them as exquisite luxury gifts. They also developed revolving hunting guns. Those weapons' cartridges utilised a small fire crystal, a magic material associated with fire, as the ignition substance. They were produced by rune magi who cut them into fine pieces in their arrays.

Those cartridges were the same ones used by Hansbach's revolver, which Sheila snagged. Fortunately, the crystals were quite expensive and processing them to make cartridges was by no means cheap, making mass production a rather bleak prospect. But at least, they could still be bundled with the luxury guns.

The council and the executive committee of the region refused all the ambassadors' demands. Angered, the ambassadors cursed the council members and generals for forgetting what the kingdom did for them to raise them up and threatening the kingdom to accept their unfair conditions now that it was facing the threat of extermination.

In the end, they were ordered to be rushed out of the council hall by Bolonik. Seeing that their mission ended in complete failure, the ambassadors gave impassioned speeches in the centre of Lanu, detailing the kind of danger the kingdom was facing and rebuking the generals and council members for stabbing the kingdom that had done so much for them in the back by doing nothing.

They managed to inspire quite a number of listeners, who willingly donated up to a hundred crowns in an afternoon. However, all of them were low-denomination bills, so they had to change it for coinage at the overseas banks.

Just as the ambassadors were about to continue besmirching the bigwigs' reputations, all newspapers in the region published the demands the ambassadors made, causing the entire region to boil over. Not a single one of the citizens could bring themselves to accept the demands, which was no different than cutting off the region's flesh piece by piece.

Had the demands been agreed to, the kingdom would only follow up with even more ridiculous ones. In the end, they would trickle down to the common folk and affect them personally. Nobody would be willing to give away the fruits of their hard labour if they had the choice not to.

With recent developments, the living standard in the region was quite high. The populace felt their lives turn for the better and not one of them would want that to stop.

When the ambassadors started their speeches the next time, they didn't hear any praises. Instead, they were booed, cursed at and showered in rotten eggs and fruit. A few constables came and declared them to be unwelcome persons in the region. They and their cohort would immediately be sent to Port Cobius to be deported.

But at the same time, the council also announced they would be providing aid to the kingdom in the form of food and agricultural goods worth a million crowns to help the kingdom resist the unjust Union in the war to fulfil their basic duty as Aueran settlers.

Additionally, a donation of 200 thousand Aubass Mark 3s and a thousand front-loading infantry cannons would be made to the ministry of the army. They were replaced with better versions anyway and were gathering dust in the storehouses, and it wouldn't be appropriate to sell them to other nations. Buying some goodwill with them seemed to be the logical choice.

Apart from that, 20 thousand middle and heavy-class mortars and a thousand launchers would also be provided. With the new light-infantry cannons with a 1.5-kilometre range, the middle and heavy-class mortars were no longer viable on the battlefield. The kingdom could simply do them a favour and dump them on the five enemy nations.

The ambassadors returned to the mainland, crestfallen. Later, some representatives showed up to collect the supplies the region agreed to provide, but the official statement the region sent to the mainland wasn't given a reply. It could be that they were preparing to evacuate because the situation had worsened.

Two months later, news finally came from the western coast that the kingdom's defences on the borders had fallen. Reddragon and the royal guard's folks had been almost completely exterminated. The eight corps of the Union were marching on the Ibnist Plains, inching ever so closer to the capital.

The capital fell on the 15th of the 8th month of Year 599.

In his speech prior to the evacuation, Fredrey I said that as long as they had a musket left, the kingdom would resist. They would never submit to negotiations with invaders.

The Union's five heads of state from their member states arrived in the fallen capital and held a grand parade in the most famous city of Eastern Freia. Their soldiers marched through the streets the Stellin royal family's forces usually paraded.

Majid III and the other four heads of state were present at the parade. He emphasised once more that the war was waged to exterminate Aueras, the source of all the recent wars in Eastern Freia for the past few centuries for their unquenchable thirst to unite the land under their rule.

It was waged to teach Aueras a lesson. With their royal capital occupied, Fredrey I was nothing more than a pathetic mutt that ran with his tail between his legs. The Shiksan king expressed his hopes that the nations in the Union should move forward with singular focus and exterminate the remnants of the old tyrant.

The speech specifically stated the complete extermination of Aueras. At that time, 15 of the 27 Aueran prefectures had fallen to the Union's hands, even the most prosperous prefecture, Ibnist, and the kingdom's heart, the royal capital. Fredrey I had retreated to Whitestag and announced he would resist to the bitter end.

On the 8th of the 11th month, Lady Maria arrived in the autonomous region as Fredrey I's ambassador.

Chapter 499 - Conversation on the Train

"Look at all of this, Teacher. This is what we've done in the last couple of years. The autonomous region is vibrant with life compared to the mainland. We just need to guide it properly and split the fruits of our labour fairly. The people will work hard to better their lives of their own accord if they share in the profits," Claude said to his teacher as the train chugged along.

He'd gone to Port Cobius personally to welcome the countess, his old teacher. They'd gone to Ankanor by coach, and now rode one of the new train lines. She'd been in awe at every turn at the glories of the former colonies. Even the most developed land in the capital felt like mud huts compared to the glories of the new world. The train, especially, had floored her. She'd heard of it, but no story could do the giant huffing, puffing, whistling iron snake justice.

Maria had come on the king's behalf, accompanied by her eldest son, Hertinger, who sat in one corner of the cab dressed in a royal guard captain's uniform. He'd been wearing one of the knockoff revolvers but Gum confiscated it when he boarded the train. The young man wasn't brave enough to put up a fight over it, so he'd handed it over obediently, if unwillingly.

It all happened in front of the countess' eyes, but she could do nothing but sigh. Claude was her son's junior by several years, but the latter was pathetic compared to the former. Had she devoted more time to her children's education, she might have been able to salvage a decent man from the spoilt youth, but it was too late for regrets. At the very least, had she taught him proper manners he could have had blood ties to Claude through his sister and have enjoyed the latter's favour.

She and her former disciple had an honest conversation about the kingdom, or the 'mainland', as she'd heard the people call it, as if the autonomous region was something separate from the kingdom, which she could not deny was the de facto state of affairs, pretend otherwise as everyone might. They discussed at length the reason behind the kingdom's fall from grace. Her former disciple was quite ruthless when discussing the former colonies' self-governance. It was all but a foregone conclusion, an inevitability, as far as he was concerned. Even if the last couple of wars had not happened, if Shiks had not fought with them over the colonies, if the kingdom's war of succession had never happened, and if the Union had not come for the kingdom, the colonies would still have grown more powerful over time and eventually asserted their right to govern themselves.

He did reassure her that, if the king gave them their autonomy without a fight, and didn't try to undermine it, he had little to worry about regarding them pushing for actual independence. The kingdom had lost the people's favour because it had tried to treat them as a farm or a mine, something it could wring dry for its own benefit without considering how it affected the people living there. After the previous war, it had tried to wring them for money and resources to rebuild its economy, and the people had wanted to rise up in rebellion.

If not for the war with Shiks in the colonies, there would have been an open rebellion within the year, and the kingdom might well have lost the colonies entirely. That war had been a blessing in disguise. It had brought in Ranger, and with it Claude and his people. They'd been able to gain a firm hold on the reins of power through their achievements, and were keeping the colonies firmly loyal to the kingdom, though they understood there was no way to keep them under the mainland's foot if they wanted to keep them from demanding complete independence.

They'd tried to keep the colonies happy with their lot, but the war had forced them to develop the local economy and industry to finance and supply the war effort since they were too far from the mainland to rely on them for everything. Not to mention the civil war had broken out and had all but cut them off from any aid that might have been forthcoming had the mainland power structures been intact and fully functioning. What they did get was two million migrants, mostly soldier families.

These families they put to work immediately, and they, alongside the earlier settlers, had built everything the countess could now see on their own. That, coupled with the lack of support they'd gotten from the mainland, and their eventual total victory over Shiks, with a healthy dose of flame fanning by local factions, had convinced the locals they were better off without the kingdom entirely. The colonial government under Claude (effectively, if not nominally) had been forced to make some concessions.

Claude admitted he'd not made the decision in calm consideration. He'd had to make it in the spur of the moment, but only because the mainland had forced his hand. Stellin XI's attempt to purge him and his peers had forced him to break with the mainland immediately and with total effect.

It had actually also been the reason why they'd been able to break with the mainland's government so cleanly. Whilst the independence movement had a lot of steam and power, the loyalist lobby also held considerable sway. The latter had been either silenced or turned by the king's attempted purge and so there'd been no opposition to the move for autonomy.

That all the soldiers' families lived in the colonies was another reason there'd been no pushback. Everyone that might have been in a position to resist, were on Claude's side. The colonies were more home than the mainland. Their livelihoods and families were there, they'd fought and bled to protect the land and the people, and they'd built it into a flourishing paradise from a desolate wasteland.

Claude was also clear that there was no chance the region was ever going to renounce its autonomy. Life had only gotten better since they'd become autonomous, whilst the mainland had become the wasteland the colonies had been before their arrival. No one wanted to return to the days before the war.

The biggest issue was that the current king had declared them all traitors. That was simply not true. The former colonies had made no move for independence. They'd only declared their autonomy from the mainland government because they felt it was incapable of properly managing their affairs. They were also more than willing to help the mainland, granted their demands weren't unfair and impossible to reasonably meet.

Maria disagreed. She felt true Auerans would be willing to sacrifice their luxury and fortune to preserve the kingdom. They were committing treason in all but name.

Claude simply smiled resignedly at her. There was no resolving this difference. It stemmed from their different positions in the world. So he simply informed her that as far as the local government was concerned, they'd more than fulfilled their duties to the mainland and the crown. Their donations of food, about a million crowns' worth, 200 thousand old muskets, and old light-infantry cannons, worth about 3 million crowns in all, was more than fair. It was certainly more than the kingdom had ever done for them a dozen times over.

He spoke with her more openly in a personal capacity on some matters than he would in his official capacity. He was quite candid about their financial situation, and why the kingdom was seeing so little of their money. It was mainly, according to him, because the old nobility was pocketing at every turn along the way, leaving the crown with nothing but crumbs.

Especially before Claude had come onto the scene, the old nobility back then purchased about seven tenths of all the resources the colonies produced, at basically cost price, sometimes even less, then marked up the products their family manufactories and processaries produced to ridiculous levels.

Eventually, the old nobility wanted a piece of the raw-resource-production pie as well and used the local prefectural permits to their advantage to fight the new nobility's monopoly, causing a heated conflict between the two factions.

Claude had always thought the new nobility were champions of free-trade ideals, but they were nothing more than another faction of nobles squabbling with the old nobility in trade. Their true goal was a complete monopoly on intercontinental trade, as was apparent from the trade conditions they refused. There wasn't the slightest bit of goodwill at all. The main factor of the kingdom's downfall had a lot to do with this factional conflict.

Had Hansbach taken the throne, Aueras would've remained strong, even if it meant the old nobility's influence would be chipped away. However, the new nobility pushed Wedrick to the throne while the old nobility watched from the sidelines, causing Hansbach to storm off and start the civil war. Claude had no doubt that the civil war was what had ruined the kingdom.

Hansbach's greatest weakness was his self-conceit. He didn't even have a clear target when he marched on the kingdom. He believed he could conquer the kingdom alone, and solve all the problems that popped up along the way, including dealing with the nobility. So, after his conquest of the capital, he purged old and new nobility from his armies, forcing the old nobility to side with Wedrick.

In the end, the clash obliterated both sides and bled the kingdom dry. Hansbach retreated to the new territories after his loss, only to end up assassinated and wiped off the rest of history's pages. Even so, the old nobility didn't feel much better, despite having won the war. The civil war had brought them nothing but losses. After Wedrick ascended as Stellin XI, he favoured the new nobility heavily instead, tossing the old aside.

They soon came to regret their decision. Stellin XI was by no means a wise ruler and was turning into a ruthless despot day after day. The new nobility were getting bolder and bolder like wild dogs. To make up for the losses they suffered during the civil war, they used their roles as debt-collecting ambassadors the king gave them to capture the so-called supporters of the first prince, causing great civil discontent and an ever-debilitating problem of bandits and refugees.

And so, the old nobility decided to stage a coup and make Fredrey I the new Aueran king. While they delayed the coup for a whole year when the region's forces were pillaging the kingdom for industrial equipment and refugees, they eventually made use of Stellin XI's father-in-law, Duke Siegfeld, to send Reddragon to test out Thundercrash's might, only to get the conclusion that they were unbeatable.

Why, then, did the region's ambassadors sent to the kingdom to congratulate the kingdom for the coup's success given such cold reception at the royal capital while they were trying to mend relations? It was simple: the old nobility, now holding all the power, saw the region as traitors. They wanted the glory days of colonial exploitation to come back. It was as if their parents were killed once all that exploitation stopped. They simply couldn't give up on that exorbitant amount of wealth that didn't belong to them in the first place.

Claude asked Maria whether the region was being ridiculous by asking for something so simple. The kingdom was already a continent away, taking half a month to sail from there to the region. Under such circumstances, some level of autonomy was required for smooth promotion, administration, taxation, development and military operations in order for the region to develop. If everything needed to be approved beforehand, policies helpful to the region could be endlessly delayed.

The ambassadors were intentionally trying to cause the region trouble, hence why they ended up deported. They were playing silly word games, thinking they could get away with it. If the region agreed to those terms, they would be no different from normal colonies.

Additionally, official permission for trade to continue with the kingdom didn't make much of a difference. As long as the rights to trade locally and set prices were held in the hands of the new and old nobility, the region would have no say over how much and where their goods could be sold. The ambassadors insisted the region's companies to cooperate with mainland companies and factions as obedient producers of goods only.

Perhaps they thought the region would be thankful for those two conditions, so they demanded a ludicrous additional three million crowns' worth of food and goods, five million crowns' worth of urgent supplies and 1.5 million crowns in taxation and tribute annually.

Claude said he really didn't understand how they saw the seven million citizens of the region. Did they think they were slaves?

The region only agreed to pay a yearly 400 thousand crowns in taxes and tribute just because the immigrants still saw themselves as Auerans and acknowledged the kingdom for being the fatherland of the autonomous region. They maintained a similar foreign policy as the kingdom, considering its enemies their enemies as well without harming the kingdom's interest in the slightest.

Was not being willing to give the old nobility supplies for free and demanding a reasonable price going overboard? The region's miners weren't slaves and had their own families to feed. Their work was properly compensated for. What right did the old nobility have to lay claim to the region's resources? It wasn't even a matter of contributing to the kingdom. Didn't they themselves make profits off the kingdom for producing its weapons?

Incidentally, they also had the gall to demand the designs for the new rifles, 200 thousand already-made rifles, and ammunition! Was the king going to blame the autonomous region if they lost the war?

Did they even understand the implications of such a demand? The rifles alone were easily worth five million crowns, not to mention the munitions! The region had only funded their own arms upgrade with massive debt. They still had two million crowns of debt!

The mainland couldn't care less about them, though. They just wanted money, resources, and arms.

Even Maria was shocked at the rifles' cost. Claude's patient explanation left her speechless. She couldn't help but come around to his side, at least partially.

"Well, I came to ask for your men to come save the kingdom," she said finally.

Chapter 500 - Deciding to Deploy

Maria didn't make an empty request. She might have had an epiphany during her conversation with Claude, but, regardless, when she reached Lanu, she quickly revealed her trump card to the five generals: new conditions offered by the kingdom. The council's decision had nothing to do with her. She was merely a messenger.

The council members agreed unanimously to all conditions Fredrey I proposed. The first was that the region was to remain a part of the kingdom. As such, the kingdom would be the final decider of all foreign policy. Beyond that, however, the region would maintain complete autonomy. They would, however, have to present annual reports to the king's government so it could stay up to date with the situation within and the condition of the autonomous region.

All produce from the territory would be sold at the prices they set. They were not given full free trade rights, but they did get ten permits for their primary produce.

The latest set of conditions were essentially a complete concession on the mainland's part. The councillors were at a slight loss to understand how this sudden turnabout had come around, but the declaration of conditions had the king's seal. Had the mainland's position become that desperate?

Maria also brought the five generals' orders of promotion, and the two corps' officiations. It had been three years coming. The king had personally bestowed each general with honorary Titles for the part they'd played in the kingdom's recent wars.

Bolonik and Claude were made full generals. Skri, Eiblont, and Birkin were made lieutenant-generals. Seven other colonels were promoted to major-generals, among them Claude's minions and friends, Moriad, Berklin, and Dyavid. They had finally worked their way through the ranks to become general officers. Myjack was quite fortunate to be Claude's brother-in-law as he had been put on an even greater fast track. He was promoted straight to major-general as well. Four people from Thundercrash had been made generals, and three in Monolith.

The king was even more generous with Titles. He'd given 24 officers new or first time Titles in one go. Claude got the best of it. He was made a hereditary baron, probably due to his pre-existing county. He could now pass his Title to his descendents in perpetuity.

Bolonik was made a trigenerational viscount. Skri, Eiblont, and Birkin were made trigenerational barons. Moriad, Berklin, Myjack, and 16 other high-ranking officers were made honorary barons. The decree declared that the Titles were awarded to the generals for their magnificent contributions to the kingdom's expansion in the recent wars.

Three other councillors were also promoted; the one-armed Bernard, made an honorary viscount -- partly as compensation for the loss of his arm during the assassination attempt -- Saljorak, the chief constable -- he had retired because of that attempt but had later been made chief constable by Claude -- and Weyblon. The last's entitlement surprised everyone. He had the meritorious achievements for it, however. The exorbitant amount of funds he had provided Liboyd to research and improve steam engines, which ultimately resulted in the railway, had changed the region's transportation landscape entirely. Without his support and keen eye, the railway would never have come to fruition. He was also made an honorary baron.

Seven people from the general populace also received Titles. Only five accepted, however. Liboyd was made a hereditary baron for inventing the train and improving steam engines. The four rune magi that had helped him became honorary barons. Sonia and Angelina had refused their titles. They preferred to keep low profiles over the privileges afforded by nobility.

Fredrey I gave out so many Titles because he had two requests. The first was a million crowns in annual tithes and taxes, and the second for their military aid.

"How is the mainland faring?"

"The ministry of the army set up two lines of defence in Kugria, Krimis, Blinmorrow, and Bagasantana. The first royal guard folk and all of Griffon's men are currently manning them. Coupled with another two irregular corps, they have a total of 200 thousand men. The ministry formed two more irregular corps with the Whitestag refugees.

"There are 430 thousand men among the forces of the Union, three corps which belong to Shiks. Nasri has two corps, Canas has one, and the rest is the combined corps of Sidins and Rimodra.

"But as our royal capital is already occupied, the Union's seven corps no longer have much fighting spirit. In the past two months, they only launched two large-scale attacks and retreated after losing a few thousand men to maintain the standoff. However, there are signs they are sending six more standing corps to the frontlines, which will arrive in three months. They might be gearing up for a final attack..."

The gag order from the mainland was now lifted. Every two weeks, an update on the latest developments would be sent to the region.

"Do you think we should deploy?" Bolonik asked.

That question didn't need to be asked. The high-ranking officers were unanimous in their decision. Fredrey I's grand gesture was surprisingly successful. Troops from Thundercrash, Monolith and the patrol fleet alike were clamouring to return to the mainland to teach the darned Union a harsh lesson.

While the region had obtained true autonomy, its citizens still saw themselves as Auerans. Now that the kingdom was in trouble, public opinion was for the region to go to the kingdom's aid. Rows and rows of youths lined up at headquarters or recruitment camps to volunteer for the force to be sent back to repel the invasion.

The two corps were even keener. Shiks' forces had lost time and again against them; the 500 thousand captive labourers the region now had was proof of that. Nasri was also the nemesis of Aueras, and they still hadn't paid Canas back for the losses they suffered at the end of the five-year war. As for Sidins and Rimodra, they were merely husks of their old selves and weren't taken seriously.

Their desire to fight soared through the roof because they didn't think the enemy to be threats and desired to make more achievements. That might be the stepping stone their households needed to make their big break. They also felt a little unused to the feeling of not having any wars to fight in the past few years. That was especially the case after they've been armed with new rifles and cannons. The only thought on their minds was to charge into battle guns blazing. Some even wrote formal requests to be let in to fight.

It was no longer something the five generals could suppress. Even Bolonik and the rest hoped to go back to fight on the mainland. Perhaps, Claude's promotion to hereditary baron inspired them to take the next step forward. It was a hereditary Title which all their descendants could inherit, not just the trigenerational ones that eventually dropped off or mere honorary ones.

"We can deploy," Claude said, calmly, "But we have to make sure we have full autonomy of our troop movements instead of being beholden to the ministry of the army. We are the autonomous region, after all, and our fighting style differs from that of the mainland troops. We also won't need the kingdom to supply us and take their orders. Sometimes, our allies can be scarier than our enemies..."

That finally snapped the generals out of their trance. Sending their troops to fight was fine and dandy, but they definitely wouldn't be taking orders from others, lest they were used as bullet sponges. The ministry of the army was definitely capable of doing something like that, so the region would require explicit rights over their own forces.

"Apart from discussing this with Lady Maria, do you have any other requests?" Bolonik asked.

Skri said, "Perhaps we can ask His Majesty to relax the migratory restrictions. There are up to three million refugees gathered at Whitestag, right? They managed to survive thanks to the aid we provided. If His Majesty allows us to move them to the region, we'll provide another shipment of supplies to the kingdom."

Ever since Thundercrash set off with industrial equipment and refugees from Whitestag, the royal capital forbade all migration to the region to prevent loss of manpower in the mainland.

But with the invasion resulting in another huge wave of refugees, countless people fled their homes to the southwest of the kingdom where Fredrey I resided. They believed the safest place they could be was near the king, and the unending wave of gathering immigrants put quite a lot of pressure on Whitestag.

However, all that was a great chance for the region. Claude had jokingly estimated that they needed up to 15 million citizens to be able to truly prosper. Right now, they were only hovering around seven million. The more developed states with more than a million citizens were only developed a third way through. The states with smaller populations only saw a seventh of their area developed. Other than towns and settlements, most of the land was uninhabited. Skri didn't mind bargaining for more people with military aid.

"Alright. I'll allow making that the second condition," Bolonik said. "Anything else? Is that all? Alright, since we've decided on deploying, let's discuss how and how many. Claude, let's hear it."

Claude rapped on the table as he pondered. "I think both corps will have to deploy, but we'll leave a folk behind to defend here just in case. While we have 20 garrison lines armed with new rifles and won't have to worry even if the Shiksans start another colonial war, it can't hurt to be more careful when it comes to our home.

"The ones who will stay back are soldiers who participated in the five-year war. You should know that a corps or two won't make much of a difference in a battle of this scale. Take the attack on Rimodra, for example. The so-called strongest corps of our kingdom, the royal guard, were sent into battle and lost more than half their number before they were forced to retreat.

"This time around, the war is happening within the kingdom's territory. The enemy won't waste time attacking us and they'll also seek to do the most damage possible. So, we have to demand autonomy so we don't have to dance to the ministry's tune. As for how many we'll send, it's better to send more. The ministry won't be replacing our casualties, after all.

"So, we have to first expand our corps to make sure we have one additional folk each. Thundercrash is a light-cavalry corps most proficient in attack, so I hope there's a reliable force watching our backs. If we're going to send two folks to attack, we need at least one corps of troops to maintain our supply line so we can fight without worry.

"Same goes for Monolith. We'll add another folk to its roster and keep them here in defence. The other two folks will be sent to the kingdom to fight. The region's youths are flooding to apply to join, after all, so we shouldn't let their patriotism go to waste. Let's give them the initial three-month training. As for officers and veterans, we can transfer some from the local garrison lines."

Expanding the troops was something he had chosen to do through necessity. He didn't think the king would be so generous as to promote seven new major-generals in one go. Had Berklin still been colonel, it would've been appropriate for him to lead a line. But it wouldn't look so good for a major-general to do so, since people of that rank were usually appointed as folksmen. Since they were going back to the mainland, it couldn't hurt to have more troops around if they could transport them over effectively. They were granted some leeway with their numbers.

"Alright, we'll go forward with the expansion."

Bolonik was quite used to such tasks by now. After making sure Skri was fine with the expansion, he gave the order immediately. Eiblont and Birkin would be in charge of the new unit hierarchy and training of their respective corps to prepare for battle.

"Although we've reached a unanimous decision to deploy, we still haven't discussed the one million crowns the kingdom demands annually," Skri said, curious to hear the outcome.

Unlike the decision to deploy, which Maria was quite nonchalant about, she fiercely advocated for this. The council voted and rejected that motion, only being willing to compromise at half a million, 100 thousand more than their previous offer of 400 thousand.

Maria angrily pointed out that the gross tax collected in the region was over two million crowns, and they were obligated to give at least half to the kingdom. However, Bernard, the council chairman, argued that the region had taken the kingdom's place to fund Thundercrash and Monolith's spending. If they demanded the region for half their collected taxes, they should start paying for the spending of the two corps.

Maria shut her mouth right away.

Chapter 501 - Goals

It was almost certain that anything good would be followed by troubles. A heated debate broke out in the temporary royal court once Maria brought back the region's demands. They couldn't come to a conclusion even after a month's debate. The ministry of the army refused to let the two corps operate independently. They demanded they be put under their heels. Specifically, they wanted all logistics to go through them.

They argued that it would be more efficient to pass the supplies coming in from the colonies through their channels for distribution. Nobody believed they were only interested in increasing efficiency, but it made for an earnest argument.

Another point of contention was the undercutting of the kingdom's demand for a million crowns a year. The region offered only 500 thousand. The councillors and courtiers called the region's councillors heartless, disloyal bastards. The current finance minister insisted they give a million crowns a year and not one fenny less or he'd personally make sure their autonomy didn't survive in the new year.

They'd sent dozens of ambassadors the previous year, and they had even more informants embedded all over the colonies. They all knew how well off they were. Two million crowns might be steep for the desolate wastelands the colonies had been a decade earlier, but today it was nothing but reasonable, demanding half of what the territorial government earned in taxes as their overlords was only fair, after all.

The court had a handful of level-headed members, however. They understood that this was not the time to play hardball. The kingdom was on the brink of total collapse. That their overseas territory which was independent in all but name, was at all willing to jump into the cesspit with them was already a gods-send. They could always put pressure on the territory to come back into the fold once they had regained their former power and glory, but to pretend they were not in the straits they were now might end them for good.

Unfortunately the old nobility controlled both the ministry of the army and the ministry of finance. They would not budge on their demands that the corps be put under their heels, nor would they give ground on their monetary demands. They were emboldened by the recent stability the frontlines had seen. The Union had spent its momentum and had been unable to gain any more ground in the last couple of months, and the new conscript irregulars were slowly marching off the training fields.

About four weeks into the discussions, news came from the frontlines that Griffon had made some gains in their recent operations. They'd pushed the enemy out of a prefecture and had them on the back foot in several other locations. The news only further solidified the old nobility's stubbornness. They were at the inflection point, and the war was about to turn in their favour. A couple of the bolder generals even declared they'd win this war without the colonies.

In all fairness, Aueras had done well given the circumstances. Despite the dire straits they'd been pushed too, they'd left twice as many Union corpses on every battlefield as their own.

To date they'd cleaned out four and a half of the Union's eight corps. Reddragon had been almost completely exterminated and only one and a half of the royal guard's folks had made it out. But whilst Aueras had lost 110 thousand men, the Union had come up 270 thousand short. Despite their admirable performance, however, the Union could replace their losses faster than Aueras could, and there was the issue of the overall population as well. If the war turned into a battle of attrition, Aueras, or what territory was still under the crown's control, would be bled white long before the Union ran dry.

The capital had been abandoned because they had been left no other option. The two irregular corps formed in the capital were led by the remnants of the royal guard in an assault on Ibnist Plains. However, they weren't able to stop the enemy from advancing. The two irregular corps eventually collapsed, and the royal guard only managed to retreat from the royal capital by paying the price of one folk. The kingdom lost a total of 140 thousand men in that assault, whereas the Union lost another 200 thousand plus. But by then, they were the ones still standing at the royal capital.

Had Fredrey I not chosen to retreat, he might've been surrounded and caught in the city. It wasn't that he didn't want to defend the city; he simply didn't have the troops to do so. The royal guard only had one out of its four folks remaining. Even if the royal capital recruited brave men to guard their cities, there wouldn't even be a corps. Having no other choice, the royal court had to be moved to Whitestag for the sake of buying time for the formation of another two irregular corps.

Fredrey I was perhaps the poorest Aueran king to ever live. He didn't bring much with him during his retreat from the royal capital as most of the wealth the new nobility scoured had been spent in the war. There wasn't much left in the royal treasury to take along anyway.

The three years of civil war had more or less sapped Aueras of its ammunition stores. Hansbach brought the bulk of them with him when he retreated from the royal capital, and those that he couldn't take, he burnt. Later, the old nobility's forces and Hansbach's forces got into a large battle in the kingdom, further expending their dwindling ammunition supply.

Once Hansbach was finally defeated, Wedrick took the throne as Stellin XI and didn't bother restocking the armoury of the royal capital at all. He also kept putting off paying the costs of the old nobility's industrial complexes, leaving them in a state of limbo, unable to supplement the wear and tear of gear of the kingdom's forces.

When Fredrey I took the throne, he had the desire to change their military situation for the better, but their tight budget meant they could only produce weapons on a small scale. However, the war over the debt with Nasri saw them use up almost all their weapons and ammunition. The reason Whitestag was picked as the location of the temporary court as it was a convenient hub to get the free supplies from the colonies. The ministry of the army could also easily form their irregular corps there.

In the year since the beginning of the Union's invasion, the kingdom suffered a total of 300 thousand casualties. The Union also suffered up to 600 thousand casualties, leading the ministry of the army to think that the Union was running out of steam. However, they forgot that the Union comprised five nations, among them being Nasri and Shiks who could rival Aueras alone. As for the other three duchies, they weren't as powerful, but they couldn't be ignored either.

The loss of 600 thousand troops would be a crippling blow for one nation, but nothing more than a number to five. After a month, four new standing corps came to reinforce them. It was only then that the Aueran court picked up on how dangerous a situation they were in. The enemies now had three times their number at the frontlines.

The first wave of attacks began and the kingdom lost the first line of defence within half a month. Griffon lost half their men and only two lines remained of the last folk of the royal guard. The two irregular corps crumbled, with only one folk managing to retreat. While the enemy suffered just as heavy casualties, they had superiority in numbers. The ministry of the army could only focus all their troops at the second line of defence, including the two new irregular corps that had only been trained for less than a month.

It was only then when calls for Fredrey I to accept all the region's conditions started to gain popularity. If the second line of defence was lost, Aueras would truly be at risk from being eliminated. There was no longer enough troops to keep Whitestag defended, and they had no more resources or funding to form any more irregular corps.

While the king could still flee to the region with his family and ministers, he would be living under other people's terms. If the old nobility went there, they would have no hope of rising up again.

The old nobility caved in the end and the weak-willed Fredrey I no longer waited on the decision, passing on all military duties to the ministry of the army. Once he was finally aware of the danger, he made an immediate decision to sign the decree to work with the region and send ambassadors there immediately with the decree to Maria so she may hurry the region to send reinforcements.

However, the Tranquil Ocean separated the two territories. It took a month to sail from Nubissia to Aueras. Even if the region deployed immediately, they could only reach one and a half months later earliest. Fredrey I regretted listening to the crazy ramblings of the ministry of the army that they would be able to drive out the enemies themselves. It wasted half a month of their time. All he could do now was to pray that the last line of defence could be kept just long enough for the troops from the region to arrive.

As for the region, as they hadn't received any response from the mainland due to the endless bickering, the expansion of the two corps continued without a hitch. Bolonik, however, seemed rather restless for most of the time and asked Claude what they would do if the kingdom refused their terms.

"Refuse our terms? We'll leave them to themselves then!" Claude said, "If they can afford to refuse, that means the ministry of the army still has things under control. There'd be no need for us to do anything. If they really aren't holding up at the borders, they should be sending ambassadors to rush us to deploy by now. I doubt they're anxious about the current situation at all, given how long they're taking."

"But what if they refuse to let us deploy because of our terms?"

Claude gave him a stern look.

"I will not deploy if they don't go with our terms. We all know the old nobility don't get along with us. I don't want to have to be wary of their little schemes as I fight. I don't want to be in the same camp as them if I can.

"Even though the king has made us nobility, we are merely people who lucked out. We have no family background, in the eyes of the old nobility, we're not even worth being compared to the new merchant nobles. We also refused their ridiculous demands. They might hate us even more than the invaders. If we deploy unconditionally, we'll definitely have to deal with lots of bullshit schemes.

"That's why I would rather not deploy if they don't agree. I owe our men at least this much. If I'm to take them to the mainland, I need to bring them back safely. Even if casualties are to be incurred, they must not be in vain. The only acceptable way for them to die is when they're truly fighting to protect the kingdom rather than as disposable pawns in the eyes of the bigwigs."

"But... what if Whitetag can't hold out?"

"You mean, what if the mainland is wiped clean?"

Bolonik nodded worriedly.

Claude smiled.

"All our problems will be solved if that happens. We'd have become independent without any black marks on our honour. If the crown's fallen, we need not concern ourselves over the backstabbing nobility either. We can march in and drive the invaders out at our leisure."

Bolonik couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You're... you're saying the war will continue even after the crown falls?"

"Of course--" Claude shot him an odd glance. "--We are the Aueran Autonomous Region. Surely we can't just sit by after our crown's been toppled. Surely you aren't suggesting we surrender?

"What's the point of our two corps? To fight wars! Even if the kingdom doesn't agree to our terms, we can deploy. However, we won't be reinforcing the kingdom, but rather, sending our troops deep into enemy territory. Rimodra and Sidins are back, right? We'll make sure to undo that.

"There's also Shiks, who are still insisting that the colonial conflict hasn't yet ended. They also conquered lots of Aueran land. Why don't we go reclaim some of them? As long as we want to, there'll be more than enough chances to fight. Our troops are getting a little bored anyway and our training is getting lax. Elite soldiers aren't trained. They're baptised through battle.

"I've been giving it some thought over the past two years. The region really has far too much military might nowadays and that's a huge burden on our economy. Of the 2.7 million crowns we get yearly, 1.6 million is spent on the military. That is definitely not normal. We have 110 thousand men in our 20 garrison lines, 150 thousand in the two corps, and the fleet. All together, there are 270 thousand troops.

"If we were still engaged in battle with Shiks, it's normal to keep that many troops. However, the war is over and there are no colonies on Nubissia that pose a threat to us. Though there's no need to keep so many troops in the force during peacetime, it wouldn't make sense for us to downsize and weaken ourselves now. We have no choice but to maintain them.

"Our problem is that we don't have enough manpower. All those troops will be a heavy burden to our economic development. If the growth plateaus in another ten or so years, economic development will slow and our troops will also weaken considerably. We have to find an enemy for our troops all the while trying to spur more economic development with our military power."

Bolonik was being thrown for a loop. Why would Claude bring up having too many troops all of a sudden? However, it soon struck him what Claude was getting at when he finally recalled what Claude said about the region still capable of developing after the kingdom itself falls.

"I get it now. For us, war is merely a means at our disposal to create more and more wealth for our region. That way, we can maintain our forces instead of letting them wither away."

Claude nodded. Bolonik's mind was more or less on the same track as his. What else could be more effective for development in this world than large-scale raids and forced migration through war? They would gain both population and wealth at the same time.

Last time, it took place in the kingdom, so their troops couldn't go too far and only went for the new nobiliiy's manors. But if they were setting off for enemy lands, they could go wild. Not to mention, they would have to use their new weapons sooner or later. They could even run actual field tests and gather more battlefield experience. It was far better than sitting back with nothing to do.

"According to our last population survey, there's a huge problem. We have way more men than women. The genders aren't really balanced. So, our other priority is for our men to return from Freia with their other halves. Basically, our troops are going there for marriage meetings. Helping our men form their families is also our duties as general..." Claude said with a shameless smile.

Chapter 502 - Operation Crescent Moon

"Your two Monolith folks' main objective is to hold your ground," Claude instructed, tapping on a red point on a map with his wooden pointer. "As long as Ambruiz is defended, Whitestag has nothing to worry about. However, that doesn't mean you can't take your initiative to strike defensively. When you feel it's appropriate, you can exterminate a part of the enemy forces to disrupt their formations and lead them to your strongholds."

Two months later, the region finally received the kingdom's request for reinforcements. Fredrey I personally signed the decree and stamped it with the royal family's seal. The official decree was brought over by Maria. The region sped up its war preparations and loaded the troops of Monolith onto the train one after another to be sent to board at Port Cobius.

The first troops to go were Monolith 1st Folk and 2nd Folk. The newly formed 3rd Folk was still being trained. Other than that, two garrison lines were sent to go along with Monolith with the main task of managing the supply lines from Whitestag to the frontlines. Bolonik also headed out with Bolonik to be the main contact with the royal court. Frontline command, on the other hand, would be headed by Birkin.

"We're going to be fighting independently, so we don't have to obey the ministry of the army. Whatever they say, just treat them like farts and ignore them," Claude emphasised, whacking the stick on the map. "If we play by their rules, we'll be sent to attack enemy defences nonstop to slowly reclaim the lost prefectures until our troops are so worn and battered they won't be able to do anything more.

"By then, those bastards we've been protecting the whole time will mock and laugh at how useless we are. Next, they'll demand that we hand them the new rifles and cannons for their troops to fight while ignoring all the troubles we face and need support with.

"I'm not making this up. You have to be mentally prepared for something like this. Not only do you have to fight the enemies in front of you, you also have to be wary of our 'allies' behind you. That's why, don't take any orders from anyone, not even the king himself. You only have one mission: achieve our strategic objectives and keep Ambruiz defended.

"To the rear of Ambruiz is the southwestern mountain area. Even though the terrain there is rather high and uneven, there's a wide patch of the ancient Black Forest there that covers much of the mountain area. You will have to set up a defence line there and bait the enemy into attacking. Spread the enemy's superior numbers thin around you to buy Thundercrash half a year of time so we can go deep into the enemy's heartland and cut off their main forces from within."

Claude's plan was rather simple: have Monolith's two folks form a defence line at Ambruiz and attract enemy attention while Thundercrash's three folks storm Rimodra's Port Floric and make their way deeper into enemy territory, eventually reaching Sidins' border and attacking Nasri. They would take out the centremost nation of the Union.

The operation was given a nice-sounding name: Crescent Moon. Nasri was Aueras' long-time nemesis and the second-most powerful nation in the Union other than Shiks. It was also the nation that wanted to wipe Aueras out the most. They went all out in the war of debt and the current invasion of Aueras.

In the war of debt, Nasri lost four corps of troops. But they immediately initiated a nationwide draft to recruit new troops for the joint invasion with the other four nations. After a few large battles, they were down to half their number, but they were still holding on, being driven by their desperate wish to see Aueras wiped off the map.

According to reports, Nasri still had six corps. Two of them were new and being trained in the nation, one was resupplying and reorganising in the royal capital, and the other three were at the frontlines. They were said to be requesting Shiks for supplies and funding for another three new corps.

As for the revived Rimodra and Sidins, not a single high-ranking officer of the region took them seriously. They were just in the Union for moral support and were in fact incredibly poor. They only managed to cobble together one joint corps to be sent to invade Aueras, only for them to lose half their numbers at the border battles alone. Having no other choice, they formed another joint corps before each sending another new corps to the frontlines.

However, word was that the two nations were drafting really heavily to form another corps to be sent to the frontlines. Given the two duchies' population and wealth, being able to form three corps on their own was enough to empty all they had. Even so, the two duchies were still on the lowest stratum on the frontlines. They were being used as cannon fodder or labourers for the troops of the other three nations, which dealt a rather huge blow to their morale, making them the weakest of the bunch.

From the battle analyses, the strongest troops in the Union were the Shiksan standing corps and Canasian light-cavalry corps. Shiks' forces, armed with their long-distance bomb launchers, dealt the most damage. Only the region's mortars and launchers could be used to counter them.

Canas used their light cavalry's mobility and penetrative capabilities to target weak points in defences, making them a rather huge threat. However, they suffered rather heavy casualties as well. Only half of their three light-cavalry corps remained. They were still waiting for more support from the rear.

Nasri's new corps was about as strong as Aueran irregulars, but they fought and lost too much and were no longer part of the main force. They would only be able to take flanking positions in future attacks. As for Rimodra and Sidins' forces, they were either used as cannon fodder or errand boys, defending and running the supply lines. They also raided the kingdom's folk and took their food and livestock.

If the region's two corps docked at Whitestag with the intent of driving the enemy out of Aueran borders, they would be facing off against many more their number. The reclamation of each prefecture required a bloody battle. Even the officers of the region that thought themselves to be invincible wouldn't take that chance. People weren't machines. Faced with such a disparity, even the strongest of armies could collapse, especially one that didn't have any reliable allies.

As such, the officers of the region drafted Operation Crescent Moon with Claude's leadership. Claude knew that once the enemies conquered the second defence line, they would only have to face Monolith in Ambruiz. Once they defeated Monolith, there would be no more troops defending Whitestag and that would be the end of Aueras.

That made Ambruiz a really tempting piece of meat for the five wolves in the Union. It would also be a good chance for Monolith to show off their might. That way, the Union would be wise to send all their troops to the frontlines and take advantage of their numerical superiority to crush Monolith.

By then, Thundercrash would dock at Port Floric and sweep from Rimodra all the way to Sidins' Askilin Plains, before reaching the heartland of Nasri, where its royal capital, Polyvisia, was located. With Thundercrash's mobility, they would be able to achieve that within twenty days. They wouldn't be joking around if they said they could wipe out Nasri's royal family in one blow.

If they had chosen to attack Nasri from Aueran territory, it would take at least two to three months. Nasri no doubt had countless defences set up between itself and Aueras, being the long-time nemeses they were, so no matter how strong Thundercrash and Monolith were, they would need to conquer the defences one after another to progress.

Claude didn't want to start the attack from Aueras because he couldn't end the battles quickly. By the time they finally reached Polyvisia, the Nasrian royal family would've fled to Shiks with all their riches.

It would be a repeat of Duke Sidins and Duke Rimodra during the five-year war. They left only an empty husk for their victors after their quick escape. That wouldn't do since Claude wanted to make sure his troops got fair rewards for their efforts. They couldn't count on the Aueran national treasury nor the Stellin royal treasury, so he set his sights on Sidins, Rimodra and Nasri instead for his troops bonuses.

The operation was named as such as the route from Port Floric to Askilin Plains and Polyvisia was shaped like a crescent. That path was the one they would take to wipe out three nations. Additionally, it would be much more convenient to attack Canas on the Great Plains from Nasri rather than from the eastern prefectures of the kingdom. They wouldn't have to cross as much grassland.

First, they would take care of Nasri and Sidins and Rimodra would fall along the way. With their swift attacks, the dukes of the two duchies wouldn't be able to escape either. That would leave Canas open and easy to deal with. By the time word finally got back to the frontlines, the three nations' troops would immediately crumble, leaving Shiks and Canas stuck there. All that happened next would depend on Monolith.

Claude tapped the map on the wall again. "Now that you're briefed on the operation, whether we'll succeed will depend on whether you can handle the pressure our king, the ministry of the army and the nobles give you.

"This isn't a joking matter. The king has taken the throne not long ago, so it's understandable if His Majesty demands quick results. With the ministry of the army wrongly predicting enemy movements and suffering loss after loss, they also need a great triumph to calm the populace. That's why if Monolith ends up fighting well at the frontlines, you will be pressured to go on the offensive. You must be able to resist that pressure.

"Currently, the second defence line stretching across Kugria, Chanyalar, Krimis, Blinmorrow and Bagasantana is still being held, but the pressure from the enemies there is huge. The Union also suffered huge casualties from conquering the first defence line and might need to rest and wait for reinforcements. Our reports state that our kingdom has around 200 thousand men, roughly four corps, fielded at the second defence line, whereas the Union has six to seven corps.

"I don't understand why the ministry still isn't giving up on Kugria, Chanyalar, Krimis, Blinmorrow and Bagasantana even though they've been largely ravaged by the war. Are they simply trying to keep as much land as they can? Where have all the officers with some semblance of sense gone? I hope that you ask around for Lord Militant Miselk's whereabouts once you return to the mainland. I'm curious why he suddenly vanished without a word during the civil war."

Claude finished addressing Bolonik and Birkin. They would take the two folks from Monolith to the mainland and had to face pressure from the royal family, court and ministry of the army.

"I understand," Bolonik said, "I will remain in court to mediate. I'll make sure to refuse to send Monolith to the second defence line and set up a new one in Ambruiz instead. That way, one corps alone will be able to take on all of the Union's troops.

"Only then can we keep those fellows who would have us fight and fail at bay. Our insistence will not only let Operation Crescent Moon succeed, but also give the kingdom's forces enough time to replenish and reorganise."

Claude nodded with satisfaction. "This time around, you are armed with 568 new cannons. All the troops are also given new rifles and a thousand sniper rifles. As long as the ammunition can keep up, I dare say that nobody will dare flaunt themselves before you. No matter how many corps they send, they'll end up losing. Let me give you a final reminder on three points. First, make sure ammunition supply is constant and stable. That is the most crucial factor and no effort is to be spared there.

"Second, keep our casualties to a minimum by defending only Ambruiz. Don't be tempted to launch inconsequential attacks on small enemy units. We won't be getting any reinforcements to make up for our casualties. This isn't just a guess by me. The bastards at the rear can't wait to see us lose. Ideally, they'd want us to be wiped out alongside the enemy so they'll have an excuse of taking command.

"If you suffer heavy casualties on the frontlines, you can only count on the region for reinforcements. By then, you'd be spending the blood of our youths to repel the enemies and chipping away at our lifeline for the sake of the bastards sitting at the back doing nothing.

"Lastly, there'll also be a shipment of the last hundred plus thousand Aubass Mark 3s along with you as you sail to Whitestag, as well as other military gear and food. Those are all old equipment we've switched out and they're good bargaining chips. Don't hand them to the ministry easily.

"I believe you can use those supplies to find a reliable ally like Griffon. They haven't been able to replenish after numerous battles as most of the weapons we've sent them were used to form new corps. Reddragon also didn't manage to resupply after the border battles and can't reform. You might want to distribute the weapons to them to make sure the royal guard doesn't have superiority over them."

Bolonik and Birkin nodded. They had received quite a bit of news from Whitestag lately, such as how the ministry of the army was using the last of their weapons and gear to reform the royal guard. Reddragon hadn't been able to resupply since the border battles and might be disbanded sooner or later. It was quite apparent that strife among the old nobility still existed.

"By the way, I almost forgot something. If you are provoked, you must always strike back harshly and without mercy. These people will see tolerance and patience as weakness and test your patience even further. Banish that notion from their heads the first moment you can."

Chapter 503 - Arrival and Impersonation

On the 25th of the 1st month of Year 600, Monolith 1st Folk and 2nd Folk's 72 thousand men were given a warm welcome by the royal court in Whitestag. But the moment the troops disembarked from the ship, the high-ranking officers of the ministry of the army's faces immediately shifted. The uniform the troops of the region wore wasn't the traditional Aueran red.

"The colour looks so shitty... It's literally coloured like shit..."

"Hey, look! They're wearing an iron pot on their heads like a tortoise!"

"Why do I feel like our uniforms look so much better now?"

"Even though their uniforms are odd, the troops do look elite."

The spectators' comments flowed nonstop as the soldiers disembarked and gathered. It was no shock that they found the khaki-grey uniforms to be rather bland after being used to seeing soldiers in glorious bright red. A few of the officers immediately asked Bolonik and Birkin about it when they got out.

"General, I find it rather weird that the uniforms of your soldiers are different from ours. Are you trying to differentiate yourselves and declare independence?"

Bolonik smiled warmly. "We are from the Aueran Autonomous Region. We're by no means independent, and we still have to contribute to the kingdom, pay our taxes, and fight the same enemies. Since our troops are considered local defence troops, we are free to decide the design and colour of our uniforms.

"The real reason, however, is rather simple. The kingdom hadn't sent any support to the region for a long time, causing us to have quite a huge shortage of red-coloured cloth. Given the countless casualties we suffered in the colonial wars, we were forced to consider a replacement for red uniforms. In the end, we decided on using the cheapest khaki-grey cloth to make our uniforms."

The high-ranking officers immediately shut up. Bolonik's reasoning was more than adequate. After all, they couldn't have their soldiers go into battle naked just because they ran out of red cloth, could they? It was the kingdom's fault anyway for not providing them with anything.

"Ah, it's fine. Monolith and Thundercrash are indeed local defence forces of the region and have all the right to decide on their own uniforms without conforming to the national standard," said a few other officers in a hurry to wrap up the awkward situation.

The reception was rather organised and appropriate. The atmosphere there was rather heated. Apart from the excited onlooking citizens of the kingdom, the high-ranking officers present were rather stiff faced. They didn't talk much and only gave each other awkward, polite looks. The officers of Monolith looked down on their allies who only knew defeat and begging for reinforcements and saw themselves to be superior, whereas the officers from the ministry thought it funny that country bumpkins like them looked at them with a derisive gaze.

The formalities concluded rather quickly after the generals on both sides gave empty praises to each other and emphasised their confidence in being able to obtain final victory in the war. After some morale was established, it all soon came to an end. Monolith's troops had long headed to the campsite prepared for them. They would rest there for a short five to six days from the two-week-long trip before marching for the frontlines.

Bolonik and Birkin went to Fredrey I's temporary abode to visit him. During the military council organised by the king, the ministers got into a huge argument with them. It all started when the ministry of the army suggested for Monolith to head to the second defence line to bolster the forces there.

Bolonik immediately shot it down and said he would head to Ambruiz to fortify that place instead to prevent the enemy forces that outnumbered them from swarming in once the second defence line fell. He also questioned why the ministry didn't just abandon the five ruined prefectures and insisted on butting heads with their weaker forces.

That caused all of the old nobility to start attacking Bolonik. They believed that the kingdom shouldn't give up on an inch of land and Monolith was merely acting cowardly for heading to Ambruiz to set up defences there so that they could watch as the brave soldiers on the second defence line fight and fall.

Birkin then joined the argument, pointing out that if all the kingdom's soldiers was to be buried at the second defence line, the kingdom would have no more hope. Monolith was fortifying Ambruiz to buy time for the troops at the second defence line to retreat. Once that was complete, the troops could safely retreat to Ambruiz to reorganise while Monolith took the brunt of the Union's attack by themselves.

Birkin's words struck a chord with the old nobility officers and the members of the court. While they doubted Monolith's capabilities, they didn't want to give up the chance of letting them suffer a huge blow. After a private discussion, they agreed to go with Bolonik and Birkin's suggestion to fortify Ambruiz and also called for the populace to help build the fortifications. However, they wanted Bolonik and Birkin to pledge to give the command to the court if they couldn't defend Ambruiz.

The fleet of the region docked at Whitestag for five days and sailed back to Nubissia after all the supplies were unloaded. After that, they would be ferrying the three folks of 120 thousand men of Thundercrash to Port Floric in Rimodra for Operation Crescent Moon. It would take another month and a half before that took place.

On the 16th of the 2nd month, Thundercrash's troops boarded at Port Cobius in Tyrrsim. The council members of the region sent them off at the port, waving yellow handkerchiefs. The crowd there was quite huge and the atmosphere was further bolstered by joyous tunes and cheers.

"It's too noisy," Claude said. With him were Skri, his wife, Kefnie, and their two sons, as well as a maidservant carrying his one-year-old daughter.

"Morale is high. Listen to what they're yelling. 'Dad, Mom, don't worry, I'll bring a fine daughter-in-law back for you' and whatnot," Skri said with a chuckle. "Your joke about bringing the troops to a marriage meeting has begun to spread and many of our men are really trying to find themselves a wife on this deployment. You should pay attention to that and make sure the ship doesn't overflow and flip. Take care to maintain discipline as well."

Claude smiled. "I'll pay attention to that. I'll also be counting on you here. Alright, it's about time I boarded."

He kissed his wife and three children before being the last one to board. On the front decks of the 200 plus long-distance transport ships stood horn blowers, who blew in unison as the ships let their sails loose. The twenty-odd ironclad warships escorting the transport ships also started their steam engines. Black smoke wafted from the funnels of the ship as the ships left with a bassy rumble.

Naturally, Claude was onboard their new flagship, the Baldeagle. It was the second and improved ironclad warship of the region. After some testing, Admiral Moriad immediately decided he would captain this ship and make it the flagship. Compared to the first ironclad warship, Goldeagle, Baldeagle sailed much better. At least, its engines weren't as loud.

Two weeks later, they were at the Sea of Storms. They were only a day and a half's voyage away from Whitestag.

"Should we dock at Whitestag for a few days' rest?" Moriad asked Claude, who was enjoying the nighttime scenery of the sea.

"There's no need. If we dock at Whitestag, we might be discovered. Set the course for our destination. We'll reach Port Floric in another ten or so days. We can rest for a bit by then. Our troops will need to get used to sailing by ship. We can't afford to have them collapse the moment they disembark. We need to move fast this time around and get into battle soon after we go ashore. They must hold on until the operation is carried out!"

Moriad sighed deeply. "I'm starting to regret taking charge of the fleet. As a soldier, exterminating our enemies is extremely glorious. But as part of the navy, I can't join you in battle on land, Chief. Berk and Dyid have been showing off to me lately. Sometimes, I really want to beat them up over that! They're going too far!"

Claude broke into a bout of laughter. "Besieging an enemy city and exterminating their armies is indeed glorious, but being able to sail the seas unabated is itself something to be proud of. Your responsibilities are not to be understated in this operation. Not only do you have to escort us to our destination, you also have to exterminate Seaking and the navy of Nasri and Canas on top of sealing off Northbay to capture the enemy transport ships.

"To be honest, I'm still a little worried we don't have enough ironclad warships. We only have 22 right now, not even enough to rival an enemy fleet. Seaking alone has more than a hundred sail warships. While I'm confident our ironclad warships will win, I don't want them to be too badly damaged and affect our future escort plans. You should know that's the true key to our operation. Once Thundercrash runs out of ammunition and supplies, we'll be in deep trouble."

"Don't worry, Chief," Moriad confidently said, "Didn't I run into pirates when we were escorting a transport fleet? We only needed two of our ironclad warships to sink seven pirate ships and capture 15 long-distance ships. The famous Boldo pirates from Nubari Islands have been completely wiped out by us. All those vile pirates have been hanged at Port Vebator, with the remaining five hundred sent to the mines in Loki Mountains.

"While Seaking has many warships, they're all old and outdated. Not to mention, we've switched to white-phosphorus rounds. There's no way they're going to be able to put out those fires nor escape. All they can do is watch as their ships burn up. Our ironclad warships won't even flinch from their round shots. Relax. We'll definitely be able to sink all of Seaking. Even if we miss, we can ram them straight into the ocean."

Last year, the two ironclad warships that ran into pirates took countless round shots from enemy ships and suffered a mere hundred dents. Of the seven ships they sunk, only three were sunk by their cannons. The rest were all rammed and sunk.

Moriad was fully confident that Seaking's hundred-plus warships wouldn't pose much of a threat. In the past two years, Port Patres constructed four batches of ships, each with around four to six of them. They now had 14 ironclad destroyers, two ironclad patrol ships and six ironclad armed transporters. With each batch came new improvements. By the time the last batch was produced, they finally settled on a completed design.

On the 14th of the 3rd month, the region's patrol fleet and its escort, all 248 ships, arrived near the waters of Port Floric. The ironclad warships captured all passing merchant and fishing vessels. Under Bloweyk's lead, Wolfang clan disguised themselves and sailed in the ships they captured to infiltrate the port. They took control of the signal eagle checkpoint, city hall, garrison camp and constabulary and city gates without alerting anyone.

The large-scale disembarkment began with lit torches as guides. By the time day broke, the citizens of Port Floric only just noticed that they had been taken over by enemy troops. They wouldn't be able to alert anyone else now even if they wanted to.

"I will seal the city for three days to prevent our presence here from being leaked," Claude said during an urgent meeting, "However, I'll only give you one day of rest. Berklin, you'll be in the main force that leads the first attack. Take 1st Folk and head straight to the capital, Polyvisia. Don't fly Aueran banners. Use our region's own instead. Don't tell anyone your designation and destination either as you resupply en route. Make sure to say it's a top-secret mission to confuse the enemy."

After conquering Port Floric, some inhabitants of the city thought Thundercrash was a secret unit formed by the Union. Given their khaki-grey uniforms and steel helmets, nobody thought they were Aueran troops.

Even when the soldiers told the inhabitants they were Auerans and there to reclaim their lost lands, the inhabitants brushed it off as a joke. It was common knowledge that Aueran soldiers wore bright-red tops and black bottoms with tall hats, black, leather belts and boots. So, the folk gave them an understanding wink, thinking they were trying to keep the whole thing a ruse.

By the time Myjack told Claude about their reaction, Claude fell into deep thought and immediately ordered for an official order from the Union to be forged. It stated they were a secret unit created to impersonate enemy troops and to be sent to the frontlines. Their orders were to travel to Polyvisia in Nasri immediately, and the faked documents could allow them to resupply along the way.

"You don't have to care about Sidins' capital, Efenasburg, and the other towns you leave behind. Leave it for the follow-up units. Just go to the Nasrian capital as quickly as you can to conquer and hold it until our arrival, understood?"

"Yes, General. I will not let you down," Berklin said as he stood up for a salute.

"Myjack, your mission is to lead 3rd Folk across the lands of former Askilin to take back the territories occupied by Shiks. Your priority will be the military-industrial complexes in the three southern prefectures. Make sure to get them in order as soon as possible to produce the ammunition we need. If our maritime supply route is cut off, we'll have to rely on those complexes to make our ammunition."

"It will be done, General."

"Colonel Anders--" Claude turned to his former adjutant. "--Your Line 1304 is to stay stationed here. Maintain order until our fleet comes again with supplies and ammunition. Do you understand what you need to do?"

"Yes, General. As long as we are here, we will definitely not lose Port Floric!" Anders proclaimed and saluted.

"Alright. Let's disband and prepare. We'll depart in three days."

Chapter 504 - War on Two Fronts

"I know, I know... We just have to keep it a secret, right?" the mayor of the town of Westwood, Zeke, said as he shuffled towards the town hall with both his hands in his pockets in a horrible posture.

The rainy season had just ended and the ground was still a little smooth. If possible, he wouldn't want to leave home either, just like how he didn't really want to be the mayor.

However, he had no choice. The duke sent someone to meet him, and only him. After treating the pompous ambassadors to a good meal and explaining the movements of the odd light-cavalry troops, he showed them the resupply receipts, which could help the town lower its taxes.

The ambassadors believed it a light-cavalry unit on a covert operation, so the troops circled around Efenasburg hoping to leave the duke undisturbed. The duke himself, however, wasn't very happy. Despite being a member of the Union of Eastern Freia, he wasn't even informed about such troop movements. They didn't even visit his castle as they were passing by, which the duke saw as a huge sign of disrespect. They didn't take him seriously at all.

However, the ambassadors did get some good news from Zeke. The cavalrymen that came two days ago said they were merely vanguards, with more troops to come from behind. The ambassadors believed the follow-up troops would pay the duke a visit and make his day. Perhaps the officers would then tell what their objective was and what their designation was. The only reason they didn't reveal it to Zeke was probably because of his low status.

The ambassadors enjoyed their feast and left Westwood with a couple ducks. Sidins was in such a poor state Zeke's 'feast' could barely sustain the ambassadors. Had it not been for Zeke's farmstead, which allowed him to sell some goods in Efenasburg to afford the taxes levied by the duke, he wouldn't be able to survive and hold his position as mayor.

Every time the duke's ambassadors came, they would sweep the town. Zeke had a feeling that the townsfolk whose ducks and chickens were taken would be at the town hall waiting for him to demand reparations. The darned ambassadors of the duke didn't understand that the birds they took laid the eggs that were the lifeblood of the townsfolk. They used that income to purchase salt and other crucial necessities, yet all the ambassadors thought they were taking were cheap birds belonging to normal commoners.

Fortunately, Zeke had warned the townsfolk to not act out and observe calmly, promising to pay them back for what they lost. If the townsfolk had attempted to fight for their livestock, all that would await them was doom and ruin. Zeke had gone to Efenasburg often and saw the duke's close aides march unabated on the streets. Those that failed to make way were either rammed directly or caned heavily. The ambassadors that just came were close confidants of the duke, and offending them could bring serious consequences.

He thought back at the ambassadors' instructions to him to keep quiet and not tell anyone of those troop movements. It felt really laughable. He wasn't a child and didn't need to be warned to keep a top-secret operation to himself. He wasn't the slightest bit interested in where the troops were going either. While the soldiers did seem to act a little odd, the ambassadors didn't say anything about them either.

Sometimes, Zeke imagined that the days would be better if Sidins had not returned. Back when the five-year war ended and the duchy fell following the duke's escape, all the duchies' subjects became Aueran peasants. Zeke didn't really have much of an opinion about the shift in power, since the town would still have to pay taxes anyway.

In fact, he turned out to be right. Negotiators sent by some nobles did come to Westwood about levying taxes. The amount demanded, 30 percent, wasn't that high either. Zeke had managed to save up quite a bit in those good days. A year later, a few thousand labourers even came to his town to restore the highway that connected to Efenasburg. However, the labourers seemed to be living rather harsh lives.

Then, all of a sudden, war started again for who knows why. Soldiers came to the town once more and shot an official dead outside of the town hall and took all the wealth within. After they left, Westwood was neglected, so Zeke was chosen to be the temporary chief. Three years passed just like that and eventually, Duke Sidins came back, reestablishing the duchy. That caused the town's taxes to immediately double to 60 percent, on top of labour quotas the town had to fulfil.

Since two years back, Duke Sidins had clamoured about wanting revenge and started collecting war taxes once more. During the first half of the year, many youths were conscripted into the force. The same happened again during the latter half of the year, when most of the men from 16 to 40 were forcefully drafted. Now, all that could be seen in Westwood were the elderly, women and children. Sometimes, Zeke wondered how good it would be if Duke Sidins didn't return. Their taxes would be far lower and they wouldn't be made to fight wars either.

Yet, life still had to continue. Two days later, he got up early and got his two bulls to pull his carriage full of the cabbages his wife picked and prepared to sell at Efenasburg. When he and his helper, limp old Mark, reached Efenasburg, they noticed that the city was on lockdown by a unit of soldiers. That unit looked to be the follow-up troops they'd heard were coming a few days earlier as they wore the same khaki-grey uniforms.

One officer came over with two soldiers towards Zeke and Mark, though the latter weren't the slightest bit afraid. They had gotten into contact with those soldiers before. While they were mysterious, their discipline was good and they often rested within their camp outside of town, only occasionally sending a few officers to the town to source some horse feed. They even purchased some livestock and paid in cash without helping themselves to the townsfolk's property or barging into their homes.

That officer only came to check Zeke and Mark's carriage to see what was inside. Once he saw they were cabbages, he picked a leaf to munch on and praised its sweetness and quality. Zeke was quite happy to hear that and even gifted a few to the officer, who in turn refused. Though, Zeke said they didn't have to be so polite since he had dealt with their lot before.

That came as quite a bit of a surprise to the officer. Zeke explained that he met the vanguard a few days ago and had helped them resupply. When the officer heard the full account, he laughed and did him a favour to buy the goods directly off Zeke so that he wouldn't have to go through the trouble of selling it in the city.

Soon, the soldiers the officer sent returned with a rather chubby veteran, who seemed rather satisfied with the cabbages and made a good offer, trading with cash on top of that. Zeke asked if the chubby soldier still needed more cabbages since he had some six carriages' worth left at home. The soldier gladly accepted the offer, since they could easily use up a carriage's worth of cabbages in a day, so they'd buy as many as he could offer.

So, Zeke busied himself on the farm once more. With the help of many townsfolk, he managed to move all the cabbages onto the carriage and transported them to the fat officer. The bill was quickly settled. When his limp helper returned with the carriage, Zeke decided to take a stroll around town to buy some good linen cloth for his beloved daughter for her to make new clothes with. His daughter had been wearing nothing but her sister's leftover clothes from before her marriage. He decided to get her new ones since he had the money from selling cabbages.

The road along the left of Efenasburg was covered in tents coloured similarly to the uniforms of the soldiers. While there weren't any barricades or trenches around the tents, not a single soldier showed up on the roads. The occasional neigh from a war horse could only be heard from beyond the tents, the horses themselves being kept on tight leashes. However, not many people were on the road and those that came out of the city had looks of horror on their faces and seemed as if they couldn't wait to leave the place.

It was only when he reached the main gates that Zeke noticed what was going on. There were hundreds of luxuriously dressed corpses hung off the walls, many of whom seemed a little familiar. Zeke came closer to get a better look and was surprised to see someone familiar: the ambassadors that went to Westwood a few days ago. Not a single one of them managed to escape.

He looked up the walls and saw that a grey-uniformed soldier was standing guard. He approached them with a permit slip the fat officer handed him. Upon hearing that he was going inside to buy some things, the fat officer got him that slip.

The soldier let out a rare smile when he saw the slip and made way for Zeke, even calling out to the rest that he was his friend and should be allowed through. Zeke then casually asked why Duke Sidins' aides were being hung off the walls. The soldier, smiling, replied that there was no more Duke Sidins and that the Auerans had successfully reclaimed Efenasburg to be their territory.

......

The past three months were filled with nothing but joy for the royal court in Whitestag. First, the defence line at Ambruiz was completed and all the troops of the kingdom stationed at the second defence line managed to retreat near Whitestag, getting the much-deserved rest they hadn't had since the start of the war. Initially, some were still rather concerned. But the nonstop reports that came from Ambruiz was much relief to the many officials.

Nobody would've imagined Monolith to be such hardened fighters who could take seven times their number. Once the Union noticed the Aueran retreat at the second defence line, they immediately took it and headed for Ambruiz. When they found that only one corps defended it, they were overjoyed and immediately launched a fierce attack without waiting for reinforcements, only to find themselves ramming against an immovable mountain.

The first ones to attack were, unsurprisingly, the troops of the cannon fodder corps formed jointly by Rimodra and Sidins. In half an hour, their morale plummeted after losing more than a hundred men as they crumbled and retreated from the frontlines. The Union's high-ranking officials shook their heads in disappointment at how weak their allies were. An attack with more than 50 thousand troops had little effect, if any. They didn't even get the chance to test out the enemy's heavy artillery. The only reports they got was the firing of a flurry of gunshots before the soldiers at the front fell nonstop. Those that survived turned tail to run. It seemed that they were more suited to common labour than actual battle, after all.

The humiliated noble officers of Sidins and Rimodra that were observing the battle left crestfallenly and gathered at the stronghold of their corps to make an example of near a hundred deserters by means of cruel decapitation before launching into a morale-raising speech. Regrettably, the nobles weren't able to bring back the lost morale at all. Most of them merely stared blankly at them, completely unmoved. The nobles' desire to launch another attack completely evaporated into thin air.

What followed was a swift attack by one Nasrian corps and a Canasian light-cavalry corps. Their usual combo was for the Nasrians to launch an attack first to draw the attention of the defenders while the Canasians laid in ambush at the rear and flanked the defences at the high point of battle, thereby overwhelming them.

The Nasrians would then push harder by charging into enemy defences without regard for casualties while the enemy was occupied. It was much easier to breach the defences using that combination. Once a single part of the defence line was conquered, they only had to stop the defenders from taking it back to establish a foothold and slowly chip away at the enemy with their superior numbers and supplies. Eventually, the defenders would crumble.

During the first attack, the cannon fodder corps retreated before even reaching 150 metres of the defences. This time, the Nasrian and Canasian forces did much better, with the Nasrians making it to 100 metres from the defences before retreating from horrible casualties. The Canasians were slightly superior in that regard, managing to get within 50 metres of range before the bodies of horse and man started piling up. Only a few hundred from a line of four thousand cavalrymen managed to return.

This attack finally taught the high-ranking officers a long-due lesson about how savage the enemy's artillery was. First came the mortars fired from more than 400 metres away with what seemed to be heavy launchers. The rounds rained down on the Nasrian corps nonstop. When they were 200 metres away, the rifles started firing and fell row after row of soldiers at the front. The whole 100-metre stretch of land near the defences were littered with Nasrian corpses whose blood pooled together to form a small stream.

One of the Nasrian officers at the rear cried, "This is a massacre, not war!"

The Canasian corps, on the other hand, charged straight into a minefield a hundred metres away from the defences. It didn't help that mortar rounds were being rained down on them as well. Only the few hundred cavalrymen at the most far back managed to still their mounts to turn around and escape.

The two failed attacks caused the officers of the Union to finally take Monolith seriously. Soon, they got word that those were reinforcements from the autonomous region And so, everyone turned their heads to the Shiksan officers who had faced them in battle before and lost.

However, the Shiksans seemed just as much at a loss as the rest were. They knew the name Monolith. Just like Thundercrash, they were among the harshest foes the Shiksans had ever confronted. However, those officers hadn't taken part in the colonial wars as they spent most of their time in the labour camps of the region. So, they didn't have any inkling on Monolith's specialties, though they finally did manage to witness their strengths first hand.

As such, the third attack was left in Shiksan hands. They were going to field two corps like before with a Canasian light-cavalry folk supporting them from behind. There was also another reason the Shiksan forces were hailed as the strongest in the Union: their catapult-style mortar launchers that had an effective range of up to 600 metres, which they used to breach the first Aueran defence line.

The Nasrian corps prepared up to a hundred wooden shield carts to cover their troops. It was too bad the nonstop mortar explosions rendered them useless. It even made them easy targets to bombard, causing the soldiers hiding behind them far worse casualties.

The two Shiksan corps made a few hundred of them in the past three days, but they weren't going to use them to cover their soldiers, but rather, their catapult launchers from enemy attack. As long as they could stop the enemy artillery, they would be able to retaliate with their own artillery while the enemy was left helpless. The enemy was sure to crumble after a few days of bombardment.

It was no exaggeration to say that Shiks had invested all their collective military innovations into nothing but launchers and mortars.

Chapter 505 - Triumph of Ambruiz

"There are 45 gigantic launchers in total," Bolonik said as he put his telescope away. "They are some 800 metres away from our defences and will take about two more hours to reach their furthest firing range."

Ambruiz's terrain was largely split by small, rocky hills and streams. The Union wasn't able to mount a focused attack there. The one-time attack of the two Shiksan corps had reached its utmost limit. There was nothing more they could do. Monolith did indeed pick a good location to set up a defence line.

The 45 catapult-type launchers were about 13 metres in height. The thick and sturdy construction made them quite hefty and sturdy. Countless soldiers busied themselves to move them like ants trying to move a large piece of chicken wings. There were tens of bulls tied to each launcher that slowly and painfully advanced to pull them along.

There were three rows of shield carts in front of those launchers to defend them from cannon round shot. The soldiers that pushed them maintained a certain distance from the launchers and didn't go too far away.

"The Shiksans really did nothing but develop mortars!" Birkin exclaimed, "I finally understand how they lost the first defence line. Last time, General Lindonork told me that the Shiksan launchers can fire up to 600 metres away, about a hundred metres further than ours. I found it rather hard to believe back then, but their size finally convinced me."

Bolonik nodded. "The kingdom's troops have already done their best, even at the cost of their own lives, for them to be able to hold on for half a month under that kind of assault. However, the same trick won't work again on us. They don't know who they're taking on."

"With our new field cannons and white-phosphorus rounds, the launchers are nothing but gigantic torches," Birkin proudly said.

White phosphorus would be scattered all over upon impact to spread fire all over the place. It was incredibly hard to put out. It all stemmed from Moriad's request to Sonia. Normally, one had to heat a cannonball till red hot before firing to set enemy ship sails on fire.

However, the ironclad warships were now armed with new cannons armed with explosive shots that weren't as effective against sail ships as normal round shot. Those new cannons were more effective against personnel instead. It wasn't easy to aim at the right spot to make a hole in those ships, especially when they were sailing quickly. Moriad had no choice but to ask Sonia to research a round that could help with setting fires.

Monolith was also armed with quite a lot of white-phosphorus rounds that they intended to use against Seaking, but they didn't encounter any Shiksan naval threat at the southwestern waters. So, they decided to use them against the gigantic Shiksan catapults.

Two hours later, the two Shiksan corps finally got in place and lined up horizontally. There were countless square formations beside the catapults, each being a clan full of 200 men. The start of their attack put the defenders that were firing back at them in danger.

"Roughly 540 metres," a strategist of Monolith reported his estimates. It was just shy of the 500 metres, the range of the region's own mortars, which put them in a position from which they were unable to retaliate using them.

"Alright, you can start now. The enemy finally got themselves primed to be beaten by us," Bolonik said.

Birkin nodded. "Order the cannoneers to fire. Take out the catapults with white-phosphorus rounds first before rotating in threes to take out their infantry. Fire at will."

A sharp brass whistle could be heard right before the 20-odd cannons opened fire and let out thick, white smoke. A thick howl soared through 600 metres of the sky and landed amidst the dense locations of the two Shiksan corps. It fell like a rock into still water, resulting in multiple, chaotic waves.

Bolonik could clearly see the fires burn on the catapults from his telescope. The small embers spread into large fires. The little dots of people were blown into the air before they fell again. The neatly arranged shield carts were by now burned and battered. The cries of pain the wind carried over revealed the desperate effort the Shiksan officers gave to get their troops back into order, but that soon went to waste when even more rounds fell.

Nonstop cheers rang out from Monolith's ranks. There was no better pleasure than watching enemy troops get battered. The cannoneer at the front waved flag signals to notify that they had finished destroying their main targets and were ready for the next volley.

The bombardment got even heavier as all 568 cannons of Monolith fired in triple bursts. The key was to unload a dense 36 explosive shots for each cannon into enemy ranks in the shortest time possible. A total of 17 thousand rounds were unloaded onto the two Shiksan corps, covering even the rearmost Canasian light-cavalry folk in the attack.

The new infantry cannons could fire 1200 metres away at most, whereas the Shiksan defence line was only 500 metres away. All the square formations at the rear were involved in the bombardment. When the time Monolith's forces destroyed the launchers, the troops at the back were still staring blankly at the spectacle, confused about what was going on.

The 20 plus cannons of Monolith reduced the 45 launchers into nothing but giant, flaming pyres before turning to fire at the troops directly. They were firing from the maximum distance possible, hitting the rearmost ranks of the enemy troops first.

The officers of the Union were still blanking out when their launchers caught fire.

"What is that? Why can it fire so far away?" a Nasrian officer asked in confusion. Of the mortar launchers made on Freia, Shiksan ones had the furthest range. While they were also the heaviest, they could fire up to 600 metres, cementing Shiks as the strongest military power in the Union. If not for them, they would've suffered two corps and wasted even more time taking the first Aueran defence line.

"They... they fired them from cannons!" yelled a sharp-eyed officer at the sight of white smoke. His face paled immediately. "They... they actually made their round shots into explosive bombs..."

At almost the same time, the officers of the Union turned to the few Shiksan commanders. They were the ones who kept boasting about their ultimate siege weapon. Now, Aueras' invention of explosive weapons caused all the research funding and effort Shiks poured into their artillery to go to waste. It was plainly obvious that the firing range of the launchers was far too short compared to that of the cannons. They were also not nearly as mobile!

The command post was merely a few hundred metres from the battlefield, a full 1500 metres from Monolith's location, so as to prevent being shot at by enemy cannons. If they noticed such a huge gathering of high-ranking officials there, they might just start firing. Even if the shots didn't actually hit, they would be more than enough to terrorise them. So, the high-ranking officers' command post was situated beyond the firing range of a middle-class-infantry cannon.

Due to it being too far from the actual battlefield, the officers weren't able to respond in time to the sudden change. They merely watched as their 45 launchers burnt to a crisp before their ranks of troops were utterly demolished.

Howl after howl and explosion after explosion sent countless small dots among the square formations into the air and back to the ground. It was as if the troops were rice being fried in a wok, tossed into the air by the masterful flips of the spatula only to fall back onto the burning surface. The rearmost and frontmost troops had begun to run back like countless flies, scattering and gathering time and again, before crumbling from the explosions.

"Quick! Blow the horn for them to retreat!" The commander-in-chief of the Union's army, the rather aged Shiksan count, clasped his chest as if his heart disease was acting up. It only just occurred to him that his two corps would be completely done for if he didn't give the order to retreat.

The loud horns were blown repeatedly, causing the Shiksan troops to turn and run. They no longer cared about anything and even dropped their muskets, retreating like the tide into the ocean. The cannons only fired two more volleys before nobody alive could be seen running about on the battlefield. There were only severed limbs, corpses, cries of the injured begging for help and the flowing sound of blood.

"I have to admit. The Shiksan forces really gave me a fright there," Bolonik yelled to Birkin as he put his telescope away. His ears were still ringing from the nonstop explosions.

"What did you say?" Birkin yelled back.

Bolonik shook his head. He waited until his ears felt better and said, "Don't you think the Shiksans' discipline got much better since the colonial wars? Their troops took the hits for as long as the horn signal to retreat wasn't sounded instead of crumbling and running."

Birkin burst out laughing. "Didn't you notice that we fired at their rear? They could only run towards the centre of the battlefield where no rounds were being fired. Haha... However, we'll be taking their camp tonight. All we need to use is our cannons and rockets. They are sure to break down."

Though the attack of the Union failed once more so spectacularly with all the lost launchers, the actual number of casualties wasn't that high, being no more than some 30 thousand, only about the size of a folk. However, the Union's morale was still at a low point.

Once they returned from the camp, the high-ranking officers of the Union finished their plans to prevent a surprise attack from Monolith. They had built two rows of sentry outposts 500 metres away from their camp. There was a tent of soldiers always keeping watch during day and night in case the enemy attempted a sneak attack.

Usually, one would have to first take out those sentry outposts before attacking the enemy camp, especially one that stretched some five kilometres containing 100 thousand people. However, the outposts were built in a triangular formation ten metres from each other. There was also a bonfire burning between every three outposts, allowing a clear view around them.

The fires could easily expose enemy soldiers within a hundred metres. Apart from that, the outposts were usually built on high ground with trenches dug around them. They were built of stone and three storeys high, allowing them to withstand direct hits from round shots fired from infantry cannons. As such, units sent to take out the towers usually employed stealth and assassination to prevent the enemy from being alerted as the infiltration was happening.

Birkin, however, merely ordered his men to move their new cannons towards the towers and bombard them. Then, they turned their cannon barrels up high to launch rockets at the enemy camp. The highest firing range of the rockets was 1500 metres and they were filled with white phosphorus. Soon, the enemy encampment turned into a burning hellscape.

The watchers in the outposts were shocked awake during the first wave of bombardment and got into battle stations as their drills had taught them to. Countless soldiers were rushed into the trenches and behind their fortifications by their officers to aim their muskets at the empty ground in front of the camp, waiting for the enemy troops to show up to launch their counterattack.

That was how traditional camp-defence operations were carried out, but the Union's troops obviously didn't expect conventions to not be followed at all. Instead, Birkin used the dominating firing range of the cannons to flatten the enemy camp. Everything within it soon fell apart as startled horses and panicked persons flipped the camp from the inside out.

Birkin didn't gather all his forces to target one specific point of the enemy camp. Instead, he ordered his two folks to work as one combat unit to defend the tens of cannons as they launched an all-encompassing attack on the enemy camp. They brought along five thousand rockets with them as well.

Thankfully, the Union's officers were at last halfway capable. With the fortifications and trenches, they didn't suffer casualties that heavy. Just as the officers managed to calm down the panicked soldiers, sharp, whooshing sounds soared through the air. Rockets trailed after one another through the air above the camp and landed in the tent-filled areas with a burning flash, setting the tents alight.

With the wind at night being a little strong, the fire spread much quicker than expected. The nonstop rocket bombardment caused the troops of Sidins and Rimodra to crumble first. The troops climbed out of the trenches, abandoned their muskets, and beat up the officers that tried to stop them before yelling for the rest to run. They retreated to the middle and rear camp in a drunken frenzy.

When Monolith noticed the enemy was trying to escape, they used that chance to send all their troops in to pursue the enemy and further damage them from the rear.

The panic rippled through the enemy ranks as more and more deserters appeared. Nobody could continue to defend their stations while their comrades were busy escaping. Soon, Monolith's troops got a full view of the escaping enemy forces.

"Keep alert. We must always be careful while chasing the enemy down. Don't engage isolated enemy units and wait for our cannoneers to come first," Birkin reminded.

When day broke, word immediately spread that Monolith thwarted the Union's attacks three times in five days before attacking their camp and driving them all into a retreat. The Union's forces only stopped when they reached the second defence line, only to find that only four of the seven corps that entered Ambruiz managed to make it back. They also lost all of their military supplies and gear in their retreat.

The battle came to be known as the Triumph of Ambruiz, which rocketed Monolith to fame overnight.

Chapter 506 - Station and Choice

Claude stopped outside the capital of Sidins, Efenasburg. He had to discuss with Eiblont on how they would deal with the administration of Sidins and Rimodra and to prepare for splitting their forces. Thanks to Claude's speedy impersonation plan, they managed to get rid of all the nobles and officials of the two duchies. The few that managed to escape that net were powerless to cause any more trouble.

The two were quite troubled by being so lacking in troops. The three folks of Thundercrash had 120 thousand men in total. 1st Folk was taken by Berklin to take Polyvisia, the Nasrian capital, as the first step of Operation Crescent Moon. They would shoot the proverbial tiger in the heart to take it out in one hit. They would exterminate Aueras' archnemesis once and for all, wiping it off the map of Eastern Freia.

Myjack took control of 3rd Folk and stormed into the former territories of Askilin, which was now part of the east of Shiks. His main priority was to take the three southern prefectures where military-industrial complexes were focused so that they could start producing many kinds of ammunition as soon as possible to sustain the usage of the whole corps. It was a task on which Thundercrash's survival depended.

Dyavid and 2nd Folk went to exterminate Sidins and Rimodra. His mission was now completed, but 2nd Folk's forces were scattered across the three cities of Rimodra and two cities of Sidins, which needed to be stationed and defended. Currently, Claude only had a direct combat line, two logistics and support tribes, one guard tribe and another tribe of military police.

A folk of troops had four main combat lines and an enhanced combat tribe. The Port City of Carmentoll in Rimodra, Port Floric, Efenasburg, Castle Rivaserro of the duke, Efenasburg and Eimis were all strategic locations which 2nd Folk had to be spread out to guard. They had already lost their mobility and were being used as garrison troops.

Claude had originally planned for 2nd Folk to be the first to sweep through Nasri, but that won't do now. He had two options. The first was to wait for another two months for the six garrison lines to come from the region to take over 2nd Folk's current duties, thereby freeing them to continue storming Nasri.

The advantage was that 2nd Folk could take two months to rest and get ready. They would also be armed with sufficient ammunition that would come with the reinforcements. However, 1st Folk would have to defend Nasri's capital after taking it during that time, and Nasri would be able to rally some local forces to respond to their attack, introducing far more unpredictable variables into the situation.

The second option was to give up on all cities apart from Port Floric so that 2nd Folk could focus on destroying Nasri and crippling it for good. However, there was a possibility Thundercrash would be surrounded from all fronts that way. Without a reliably secure supply route, they would be in grave danger if they ran out of supplies and ammunition.

But at that time, Claude received word about the Triumph of Ambruiz by carrier eagle. The victory was far beyond what he imagined. He believed that Monolith would be able to hold Ambruiz, but not score a win of such proportions by fighting three defensive battles and attacking the enemy encampment at night while their morale was low using the new cannons and rockets, completely chasing them away.

Most shocking was the comparison of the casualty counts. The Union lost three out of their four corps, around 200 thousand men, whereas Monolith captured near two corps, more than 130 thousand men, while only suffering some 1700 casualties, less than 300 of which were deaths. It was a ratio of close to one to a hundred, a number that almost blinded everyone in the royal court.

"Looks like Bolonik will be having tough days ahead," Eiblont said.

The Triumph of Ambruiz was like a shot full of adrenaline to the royal court. The nobles in the court were ecstatically chanting the slogan of reclaiming all the kingdom's lost territories within a month. They had a really interesting method they used to calculate that timeframe. Since Monolith alone could take on seven corps, then they would be more than capable of counterattacking with the help of the three reorganised main corps and one irregular corps of the kingdom to chase all the enemies out of their lands.

Bolonik and Birkin harshly refused, not being drawn into the groupthink-like atmosphere. The battles had sapped them of half their ammunition, and they wouldn't be able to get replenishments in two months and a half because the region's fleet had to first transport ammunition to Thundercrash. Monolith's mission was to only defend Ambruiz.

"This victory bought us half a year. The enemy will not think about attacking within that time," Claude said as he tapped on the map, "The reason Rimodra and Sidins fell so easily to us, apart from them mistaking us for being troops of the Union, is that they sent the two corps they just formed to the royal capital. Otherwise, we would still have to fight them first.

"While the Union has lost three corps in the Triumph of Ambruiz, they are still in the process of recruiting new troops at the royal capital. All we know now is that there are five corps of reinforcements waiting at the royal capital, among them including one Shiksan standing corps, one new Sidinsian corps, one Nasrian standing corps, the Canasian light-cavalry corps that just arrived, and Rimodra's new corps. It's said that another Nasrian standing corps is on the way.

"Shiks also managed to form two standing corps with the intent on sending them to Nasri. We have no idea when they will arrive, but I've sent Admiral Moriad's Ironclad fleet northwards to ambush Seaking's transport fleet. I'm sure we'll receive word about this soon enough.

"So, the nobles have to be delusional to think about counterattacking when the Union still has ten corps of troops, numbering more than 600 thousand. However, Monolith conquered the enemy camp and got lots of supplies, which the ministry of the army is vying for. They demanded that Monolith hand those spoils to them to fund their military activity and are still negotiating with Bonik and Bick."

Eiblont slammed the desk in rage. "How shameless must they be to demand that from us despite losing and running back to Whitestag? They should be raiding enemy camps themselves if they want it so badly!"

Claude read the second eagle message and tossed it onto the desk. "Hehe, Bonik and Bick refused the ministry's demand to launch a counterattack. Do you know what the ministry said? They demanded Monolith to hand them our new rifles and cannons, saying that they'll do it themselves if cowards like us wouldn't dare.

"Do they really think we only relied on our weapons to win? What fools... How did they even get their positions... However, Bonik thinks we can give them part of our spoils to decrease the pressure on Monolith. Currently, our troops are getting a little restless themselves, thinking that the enemy will fall in one hit. They aren't too keen about guarding the trenches.

"So, Bonik and Bick hope we can quicken our plans to wipe Sidins and Rimodra out for good. Once word of Polyvisia's conquest spreads, the Union will no doubt fall into chaos. Our counterattack will go much smoother then. We only need to deal with the Shiksan and Nasrian forces."

Eiblont shook his head helplessly. "But 2nd Folk's troops are mostly caught up doing defence duty... We conquered five strategic cities and still haven't cleared out the surrounding areas, so we must ensure a safe route. If we give up on those cities, the Union's troops can easily take them back when they retreat. We'll truly be surrounded if that's the case."

Claude tapped on a point on the map. "Actually, the only truly crucial locales in Rimodra and Sidins are Port Floric and Audin Mountain Range. Port Floric is crucial to our shipments and Audin Mountain Range is the entrance to our kingdom. I already ordered Wolfang to work with 2nd Folk's independent tribe to conquer that place, since it's only defended by one Sidinsian garrison line.

"We don't really need to have 2nd Folk guard all five cities. We only need a tribe each for those two, since our tribe can rival a whole line of enemies anyway. We'll have our guard tribe, logistics tribe and military-police tribe guard those cities while 2nd Folk gathers and follows me and 1st Folk into Nasri.

"I'm worried that if we don't move for two months, Nasri will manage to retreat their standing corps in time to surround us. Additionally, if Ironclad doesn't run into Seaking and the latter manages to bring two Shiksan corps to shore, our plans in Nasri will be greatly affected. With 2nd Folk with us, however, I'm confident we can wipe out the two Nasrian corps that will be coming from the royal capital."

Eiblont nodded. "Understood. I'll stay here to take care of your rear. When the transport fleet comes back with our supplies and the six lines, I'll bring our forces and ammunition to you in Nasri."

Eiblont had to be left behind as the two duchies covered quite a large territory. Someone needed to be there to make decisions on the spot, both in military and administrative matters.

Even so, gathering 2nd Folk would still take some time. Two urgent pieces of information came from the frontlines during the wait. The first reported on Myjack successfully taking the three southwestern prefectures back from Shiks. However, he reported that he found four labour camps in the Askilinian capital, Bravisosburg with soldiers that used to serve under Prince Hansbach.

Those four camps had up to 50 thousand labourers who came from the first prince's four corps. After his assassination and the splitting of the new territories, a warlord system began to develop. However, Shiks worked with Nasri and Canas to attack the newly conquered territories of Aueras with the excuse of restoring Sidins and Rimodra. They quickly wiped those four corps out and captured many soldiers to put in their labour camps.

What Myjack found troubling was how they were still Auerans, despite having sworn different allegiances. The liberated soldiers now joined with the intent on exacting revenge against Shiks. They were treated horribly in the camps. In two to three short years, countless had been starved or beaten to death. Only 50 thousand of the original 60 thousand were left.

"I'll leave you to deal with it," Claude told Eiblont, "Pick some of them to form garrison forces here. Assign the weapons we got as spoils to them. They're veterans, so let them rest and reorganise. They'll help alleviate some pressure on us. Thundercrash must always remain mobile to be able to react to any kind of situation."

The second important news was from Berklin. He fought a rather bland siege with 1st Folk and successfully took Polyvisia. Most of the members of the Nasrian royal family have been captured, alongside most of the ministers and nobles. However, the two Nasrian princes were leading troops far away and luckily avoided capture.

After Berklin took Polyvisia, he scoured through the city to capture all the important officials first before daringly splitting his troops to attack all over the place. He crushed all garrison troops defending towns nearby the capital and moved all supplies to Polyvisia. Now that word was beginning to spread about the city's fall, they might come under siege again from the local Nasrian forces.

"Major Masonhughes, tell the troops the ruse is up." Now that Operation Crescent Moon was a success, there was no longer a need for subterfuge. No ship of the Union would be able to sail from the two port cities.

"Also, report to the court in Whitestag about Thundercrash's conquests and elimination of Sidins and Rimodra. We reclaimed our lost lands and took Polyvisia as well. The two duchies' nobles and ruling families will soon be sent there for the court to deal with. As for the Nasrian royal family, we'll need a little more time before sending them to Whitestag." Claude also briefed him on the two reports.

"Yes, General."

Just as Masonhughes was about to leave, Claude stopped him. "Wait. Also, get 2nd Folk to hurry up and finish rallying in two days. We'll rest for two more after that and depart in five days for Nasri."

When word of the reclamation of the newly conquered territories, the conquest of the Nasrian capital, the two duchies' extermination and the captive nobles was sent to court, they basked once more in a glorious mood.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I guarantee that this is true." Bolonik understood why Fredrey I couldn't believe what was happening. Not only did Monolith fight off seven corps and secure their defence line, Thundercrash silently took back their territories, wiped out two newly restored nations, took the capital of their nemesis and captured most of the rulers and nobles of their enemies.

Any fool would be able to see the kinds of changes that would follow. The scales had tipped once more in Aueras' favour. It was a complete turnaround. Fredrey I was so overjoyed he grabbed Bolonik and shook him as he repeatedly asked if what he was hearing was true, afraid that he was kidding him. In a short hour, the king repeated the same question four times.

"That was why we were against the ministry's plan to counterattack. As long as Operation Crescent Moon succeeds, we'll be able to watch the enemy panic as they crumble from within. Then, we'll make our move when enemy morale is at its lowest. They'll either perish or surrender. We won't have to sacrifice our brave soldiers attacking their defences unnecessarily. All we have to do is to maintain the pressure we put on our enemies," Bolonik gleefully said.

On the 2nd of the 4th month of Year 600, Claude entered Nasri's borders with Thundercrash 2nd Folk.

Chapter 507 - En Route to Polyvisia

Boom! Yet another mortar round exploded, sending flashes of light and wafts of acrid smoke into the air as it scattered embers across the landscape.

"Colonel! We should withdraw some. It's too dangerous here," Colonel Drivick's adjutant, First Lieutenant Wedrak shouted over the thunderclaps.

Drivick didn't budge. He just stared at the small hill where the enemy's mortars sat and rained death down on his men through his telescope.

"Have the new cannons arrived?"

"We've put in the request. They should arrive within the hour," Wedrak said.

"Have 11th Clan keep up the pressure. But don't reveal yourselves. Mortars are bad enough coming down on fortified positions, but if they catch the men out in the open it'll be a bloodbath. We'll make our move once the cannons have arrived. We'll drive those bastards off that gods-damned hill by sunset!"

Three new infantry cannons lumbered into view, drawn by six horses, a couple minutes later. They reported to Drivick, then started unlimbering. In another couple minutes, the first roar of cannon fire broke through the thunderclaps of enemy mortar fire.

The enemy crumbled with remarkable enthusiasm after the third volley. They ran like broken dogs, leaving their mortars right where they'd entrenched them, the few yet to be silenced by cannon. 11th Clan rushed to take their positions, nearly running into their own cannon fire. By corpse and body count, the enemy's were just eight hundred.

"We found this, Colonel..." 11th Clan's clansman, Captain Wesley, announced as he held out a black leather briefcase.

It was probably something the Nasrian tribesman had left behind. He probably couldn't care to take it along with him when he was busy running for his life. Inside the briefcase were some daily logs and documents, but Drivick had his attention focused on a particular one.

"First Lieutenant Wedrak, go ask the injured captives whether this is true," Drivick ordered.

Soon, the report and the captives' testimonies were sent to Claude.

"Prince Vedario is gathering his men in Traveli. Does he intend to attack Polyvisia and save his father and family?--" Claude scratched his head. "--Who is this prince? And what's with the 18th Standing Corps mentioned in that letter?"

Masonhughes was ready with an answer. He picked up a folder and soon found the document with the information Claude wanted.

"Prince Vedario is the seventh son of Nasri VII. He's 23 years old and his mother, Polmanna is a royal concubine. Nasri VII has two concubines apart from his wife, and Polmanna is his favourite. So, his son, Prince Vedario, is also one of his favourites as well.

"The prince is often described as being incredibly smart. It's a shame he was born too late. Otherwise, he would've been named the heir of the king. Currently, he's given command of the 18th Standing Corps that took part in invading our kingdom, so he evaded General Berklin's capture. As for the 18th, they're a new corps formed by Nasri and are equivalent to our irregular corps."

The 18th was one of the reinforcement corps sent to the Aueran front. With Polyvisia being conquered by Thundercrash all of a sudden, Prince Vedario immediately stopped his march to the Aueran royal capital to head back and retake Polyvisia. The local garrison tribe he made a call to arms to just happened to run into Drivicik's 7th Line.

"Traveli..." Claude looked for the city on the Nasrian map.

The capital of the prefecture of Turkrasim was Traveli. It was one of the three closest prefectures from the royal capital of Polyvisia, being located on the plains one prefecture away from Claude's present location.

"Have General Dyavid take 5th Line and 6th Line to Turkrasim and order 7th Line and 8th Line to come to me. Have the enhanced tribe guard our flanks. We will take out the 18th first." Claude decided to change his plans to meet up with Berklin and 1st Folk in Polyvisia.

They were currently within enemy territory, so he couldn't afford to allow the enemy to gather and send reinforcements. Even a disorganised crowd could cause enough damage if it tried. It would be better to attack the enemy as they were rallying and settle the matter before it became a real problem, lest they actually swarmed Polyvisia and got in Claude's way.

Though, all the planning in the world would never be enough to adequately prepare one for unexpected outcomes in reality. Claude had wanted to encounter the 18th in battle in Turkrasim. Just as he was about to besiege Traveli, he saw the thunderbolt flag of his corps being flown within. Dyavid rode out with a few others to welcome him.

"They couldn't even take a hit. We only fired two bombardments and charged with our cavalry before they crumbled and ran, exposing their backs to us," Dyavid complained.

Even he didn't expect an enemy standing corps and local garrison forces of a total of 100 thousand men wouldn't be able to hold up against two lines of 10 thousand plus troops. Dyavid had only wanted to launch a probing strike to see what sort of tricks the enemy had, but they immediately retreated two bombardments and a charge later. The probe attack helped them take over the city.

"We slew around ten thousand and capture 50 thousand plus. The 18th is gone for good. It's a shame, however, that the dog shit of a prince was the first to escape. We didn't manage to get him," Dyavid cheerfully said, "The problem now is how we deal with the captives. We can't really kill them all, but keeping them here won't do it either. As long as they have weapons, they'll be potential enemies that can be recruited to fight us."

"I need some silence." Claude really needed some time for self-reflection. It was as if his guts were getting smaller the more battles he fought. He couldn't even compare to the hothead Dyavid, who had charged at an enemy numbering 100 thousand with a mere ten thousand. He came all the way here, thinking that there would be a grand battle, only to see Dyavid's two lines chase 100 thousand enemies away without breaking a sweat.

He felt that he overestimated the enemy too often and underestimated the might of his own forces. Come to think of it, it was no surprise, given how much more advanced his new rifles and cannons were compared to the enemies'.

Two lines only had around 200 new cannons. Two bombardments were equivalent to around 4800 shells landing in the enemy defences. On top of that, the charge of 10 thousand cavalrymen drove the nail into the coffin. The local garrison forces and irregular corps had only three months of training. What could they do but escape? The first ones to run caused the others to follow and they soon broke rank to flee.

"Is the city cleanup completed?" Claude asked.

"Not yet. We only just took the gates and are busy taking captives," Dyavid said.

Claude nodded. "Same old rules. Exterminate the noble families and those who resist. As for the captives, pick out the officers and put them into labour camps. Once we hand them to the care of folk logistics, they'll be helping us transport our food. We'll punish them collectively. If one escapes, have the whole group shot.

"As for the remaining soldiers, give their left thighs a cut and treat the cuts before letting them go with some food. Tell them that if we capture them again and find that scar on their thighs, we'll be cutting off their right thumbs next, unless they haven't shot at us and become our enemies."

"Chief, I don't get why you have to make this so complicated. I get that cutting them will prevent them from becoming our enemies again, but why treat them? If it were me, I'd just cut off their thumbs right away. That way, they won't be able to wield firearms again."

Claude gave the back of Dyavid's head a light whack. "Just do what I say, you fool. Don't you know how much resentment we'll gain by essentially crippling them? Only by offering treatment will they be willing to take that cut to the thigh. That way, we don't have to forcefully subdue them to do it. We can let the captives do the treatment instead of doing it ourselves.

"They'll be allowed to rest for three months without having to be worried about being drafted again. They'll come to thank us for it too. Telling them that we'll cut off their thumbs unless they don't shoot at us will make them consider deserting the next time we meet. Think about what will happen if the enemy troops break rank in the midst of battle. We'll have a much easier time dealing with these soldiers than fresh ones..."

The cut to their legs would prevent them from serving as soldiers for three months, which would be enough time for more ammunition to be delivered to Thundercrash. By then, the number of enemies would no longer matter. Though, that was only one contingency. The other was keeping the officers and letting the normal soldiers go. Without officers, there would be nobody stopping the normal soldiers from escaping. Any new corps formed with those men would almost certainly be nothing more than a disorganised mob.

"Go get it done. We can only stay here for two days. We'll be splitting up next. Split 2nd Folk into two lines to sweep through the 14 prefectures from here to the royal capital. Exterminate all resistance and do the same thing I told you to the captives, understood?"

"Hehe, got it, Chief. I'll get to it now."

It just occurred to Claude that Nasri already suffered a horrible loss. All the way back from the war of debt, they had been clashing with Aueran forces. They sent four corps into the kingdom only to be beaten hard by Reddragon and the royal guard. Only a corps and a half managed to escape after they lost up to 160 thousand. The royal guard even managed to push all the way back to their borders, which gave the Union an excuse to invade the kingdom.

During the war at the borders, Nasri suffered another heavy loss of some 100 thousand troops. Later, in the battles on Ibnist Plains for the first defence line, they lost another 100 thousand. Then, during the Triumph of Ambruiz, their troops discarded their weapons and armour, with less than a corps and a half making it back. They had lost up to 400 thousand men in total.

During the five-year war back then, Aueras suffered horribly after losing near a million troops. Nasri's population only numbered some 16 million, yet they lost up to 400 thousand before two years even passed during the new war. That accounted for up to seven corps. Much of it was due to the extensive use of mortars on the battlefield, especially during stronghold clashes which caused great damage to both sides.

If not for their drive to see Aueras completely eliminated, Nasri wouldn't have continued on despite being forced to draft men, even those with poor physical conditions. Dyavid's two combat lines only just crushed the 18th Standing Corps, so all that remained in the Nasrian borders were two new, mid-tier Shiksan corps.

In total, Nasri lost nine corps in Aueras, including the 18th and the Nasrian royal guard Berklin exterminated in Polyvisia. All they had left were three standing corps in Aueras that wouldn't be able to make it back within two weeks. Whether they could even come back at all was unknown.

As for the two newly formed corps, they wouldn't pose much of a threat to Thundercrash as long as Shiksan reinforcements haven't arrived. Claude could easily wipe out the local garrison forces to crush Nasri's might completely from the inside without having to carefully advance to Polyvisia with his troops huddled together.

While Nasri had always been the nemesis of Aueras, they would no longer be a threat if Claude could defang it completely.

Two days later, 2nd Folk's four main light-cavalry lines spread out and swept the Nasrian prefectures. Like Claude expected, not a single local garrison force could hold up to the sudden attacks. All towns and cities subsequently fell, but 2nd Folk didn't occupy any of them. Per Claude's orders, they captured the officers, made a cut on the normal troops' left thighs and released them, exterminated the nobles and confiscated their wealth before heading off to the next location.

However, the folk only continued to swell in size. As more and more captives and goods joined his cohort, he began to draw quite a bit of attention from unwelcome folks.

A few gunshots could be heard from a distance, followed by the rapid-fire barrage by the new rifles. Not long after, an orderman came to report.

"The scout tent ran into an enemy ambush. We have one dead and three injured. The enemy left behind some 20 corpses before the rest escaped. They seem to be a local resistance militia. There were around a hundred in that ambush."

It wasn't the first time such an occurrence happened. The extermination of nobles and officials and confiscation of their property caused many such militias to form. It was as if the people themselves were resisting them. They didn't dare to actually take on the four light-cavalry lines of 2nd Folk and chose to target Claude's logistics unit instead, which was not as strong and more profitable to attack.

It was too bad they didn't understand any ranger tactics. Claude sighed and decided to bring out the trump card. The militias were a little too annoying like flies circling him nonstop just for that little bite to draw blood. He decided he would flatten them all for good.

"Masonhughes, tell Bloweyk Wolfang clan can move out now. I don't want to hear any more about militias attacking us. Let him do what he pleases as long as he doesn't spare any resistance militias he encounters."

The following journey was one that the captives in the unit would never forget. There were rows and rows of corpses hanging off the trees beside the roads, all of them with 'those who resist shall die' written on them in blood. That was obviously Wolfang's work. Eventually, Claude stopped hearing anything else about local resistance movements.

Sending Wolfang to take on civilian militias seemed a little like overkill, but at least it earned them some peace. The only thing Claude was still worried about was Bloweyk, whose bloodlust only grew since Adele's death. He no longer cared so much about his own safety. Perhaps it would be time for him to go back to the region after this war ends so he could calm down somewhat at Anna Farmstead with his twins.

Berklin welcomed 2nd Folk's arrival at Polyvisia. He even got a tribe from 1st Folk to hold a small parade. It was a blatant act of humiliation for Nasri. Though, to be fair, the Union themselves held a parade in the Aueran royal capital, so they might as well return the favour.

On the 6th of the 5th month of Year 600, Claude led 2nd Folk and swept across Nasri's 16 prefectures before finally regrouping with 1st Folk at Polyvisia.

Chapter 508 - Butcher of Polyvisia

"You're finally here, Chief. Now we can have a good drink before getting some sleep. Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I couldn't even sleep with both eyes closed! 1st Folk can finally rest..."

While Berklin held a welcoming parade at the city entrance and made it seem like everything was under control, he started complaining the moment they reached folk headquarters. The surprise attack had been a great success, but occupying the city and waiting for 2nd Folk had severely taxed them.

They were deep in enemy territory. This was an enemy capital, the seat of an enemy's power, their heartland. It was only natural that the people's hatred for Aueras was at its strongest here. The denizens were mostly Nasrians and monarchists. They had also been the war's main benefactors.

There were more than 110 thousand registered households in Polyvisia. Even if most of them were mere peasants, they had complicated relations with the Nasrian nobility. The males in every household were either part of the military or administration, or served some noble in running their businesses. They were the loyal elites of the kingdom.

The Polyvisites were extremely loyal to Nasri VII and supportive of the war against Aueras. They hoped to also reap some benefits once their nemesis was finally defeated. There were white flower rings hanging from many houses in the city, which signalled that one of their male members was out fighting in the war.

The native population numbered to around 600 thousand. Coupled with the outsiders who were there on business and other affairs, Polyvisia had more than 800 thousand people. It was only slightly shy of the one million in the Aueran capital and claimed the place as the second-largest city in Eastern Freia. It enjoyed great prosperity and development in the fields of business and industry.

Berklin's 1st Folk was quite lucky in that they attacked the city on the monthly three-day break of the Nasrian royal guard. During that time, soldiers returned home to spend time with their families. As there was only a folk of troops left guarding Polyvisia, they were completely overwhelmed by Thundercrash 1st Folk.

Not a single Nasrian royal, noble or official managed to escape Berklin's soldiers due to how swift it all was. The citizens didn't even manage to react before the city got taken over. By the time they were aware of it, the officials who could fan the flames of resistance had been captured. Without a leader, there was no resistance.

Berklin was particularly good at taking the initiative. He'd scattered the garrison outside the city while the city had yet to stabilise. Had he not, the local garrison would've encircled the city and started a long fight for the capital.

Most of the men had returned to their homes in the surrounding towns on leave. Some Nasrian nobles had gone to their manors as well. The moment they heard of the city's fall, they recalled all the men on leave and started planning their retake of the city.

Berklin took action the moment he heard about it. He sent three combat lines to the towns in question and massacred the mustering soldiers.

Berklin admitted it had been quite risky to leave less than a line in Polyvisia. 1st Folk lost nearly three thousand men, almost a tribe, in taking Polyvisia. They were prepared to take Nasri VII hostage to stop the civilians from rebelling. If they wanted to save their king so bad, all they would get was his corpse. 1st Folk would simply perish together with them.

Fortunately, the civilians of the royal capital didn't do much as the three lines were clearing out the towns outside. They returned with huge amounts of supplies too, allowing the folk to survive that trying time. However, the following month was by no means relaxing. The citizens were completely uncooperative. Much pressure was resting on their backs from having to watch the captured royals, nobles and 30 thousand plus royal guard troops.

There was also the defence of Polyvisia to worry about. Berklin was constantly on edge about a nasty surprise. He couldn't wait for the rest of the men to arrive as soon as possible to divide the burden, especially with the resistance in the nearby towns not completely wiped out. They often ambushed 1st Folk's light-cavalry patrol tents. They had lost 400 men already, much to Berklin's anger, but he didn't get back at them in fear of inciting a rebellion.

"Just look. All twelve towns within 50 kilometres of the city have been labelled no-go zones. Our troops will always be ambushed by hidden shooters, and we have no way of dealing with them because they turn into civilians the moment they drop their weapons. If we enter the towns for a large-scale search, we'll need a line of troops at least. Otherwise, the sheer numbers of those civilians are hard for us to suppress," Berklin said with a map around Polyvisia laid out.

"1st Folk only has three and a half lines of troops remaining. One line guards the walls, one line watches the prisoners, and the other keeps the business sector in Polyvisia under control. There are two more tribes in charge of defending the palace where the Nasrian royals, nobles and officials are kept. We can absolutely not let anyone know about that. The remaining two thousand plus injured are in the field hospital, so we have no more men to send out. We can only let the forces from the twelve towns slowly sneak up on us. Our scouts and patrol units can only observe from outside the towns," he said with much frustration.

Claude recalled the two towns he passed through. They matched more or less what Berklin described. The townsfolk that Thundercrash chased out of their houses regarded Thundercrash's troops with hate-filled glares. It was not a big deal, however. The guard tribe wanted to clear out the houses as Claude was making his way through for security reasons. They didn't use that chance to pilfer anything from the houses.

Yet, the townsfolk didn't shy away from glaring at the troops coldly as they passed at all. Berklin really didn't have any more men to send in to crush the resistance forces, allowing the hostile fighting spirit of the civilians to continue to grow. It wasn't a good trend and had to be stamped out firmly.

Sometimes, mercy alone wasn't enough to get the enemy to lay down their weapons. It might even exacerbate the situation. Nasri, being Aueras' nemesis, harboured the most anti-Aueran sentiment, especially in the area around Polyvisia. Perhaps only blood and iron was sufficient to remind the common folk in whose hands their fates rested.

"Rest for two days and send more scout tents to surround those twelve towns. Cut off their communications with each other and only let people pass after strict checks only if they have guarantors. Two days later, 2nd Folk will deploy and send one tribe each to encircle each of those towns. The other line of troops will search the houses in those towns and arrest everyone in households owning firearms. Nobles and officers will have their properties confiscated, and anyone, regardless of age or gender, is to be killed if they resist. Anyone hostile to us shall be erased!"

Claude gave his first order in Polyvisia coldly. Unlike the other officers of headquarters, he was aware of the kind of bloody conflict his order would trigger. Troops were not led by the kind, and one had to be merciless towards one's enemies. Only a commander of such calibre was worthy of the troops' trust. It wouldn't do to have a commander who would let his troops be sacrificed for humanitarian gestures towards the enemy.

Thundercrash's two folks gathering at Polyvisia immediately caused tensions to rise. Wolfang reigned the night. Claude didn't let them enter the towns. Instead, he fielded them outside. As expected, they captured more than ten informants in the last ten nights. Some violent interrogation quickly cracked them and they revealed all their secrets.

The operation started the next day and all twelve towns were surrounded. 2nd Folk's 5th Line entered the town of Lodeway to start their search and encountered an ambush less than half an hour in, followed by a complete rebellion. Countless civilians charged at the troops of 5th Line with blades. Dyavid merely spat the grass stalk he was chewing and gave the order to fire.

The 70 thousand citizens of Lodeway swore to fight to their deaths. Two days later, all they got were broken families. Not a single one of them managed to kill an enemy with their bladed weapons. They were all mercilessly felled by bullets. Even those hiding within houses weren't spared. 5th Line used the old cannons they got from the spoils in Polyvisia and blasted the houses apart before dropping mortars above them to clear them out.

Apart from the 10 thousand women, elderly and children who surrendered, the rest of the town was flattened. In an attempt to destroy evidence, the invaders set the town on fire and let it burn for three days and nights. They left with about a hundred carriages filled with supplies and more than ten thousand civilian captives.

Next came the town of Kozinbak. They prepared themselves by building barricades and self-made weapons, engaging immediately the moment 5th Line arrived. However, they were completely no match; none of them could take the bombardment from cannons and mortars, as well as the rain of bullets. As the brave died off, the rest of the civilian resistance crumbled.

Kozinbak's resistance was like loud thunder without rain. It caused a large commotion, but ended quickly without results, unlike the citizens of Lodeway who managed to resist for two days. Kozinbak couldn't even last six hours. The rest quickly dropped their weapons to surrender after the obstinate, brave ones died off, giving Thundercrash another 40 thousand captives.

Like before, 5th Line set the town on fire after searching it through, reducing it to ashes. People were quite forgetful, after all. Claude wasn't going to let the townsfolk go. They would be held with the soldiers of the royal guard and transported to Loki Mountains on Nubissia to expand its population. They would make fine miners. Perhaps hard labour would make them assimilate easier as a citizen of the region and make them forget their hate for the kingdom.

Dyavid, on the other hand, questioned Claude skeptically. Why hadn't he cut their thighs and let them go like the rest? They wouldn't have to waste a line on guard duty had he done that.

Claude said the Nasrian royal guards were staunch loyalists, being one of the main beneficiaries of the Aueran invasion. They would not tolerate Nasri's extermination one bit. Other captives who were forcefully drafted, however, would instead be spared a dangerous life on the battlefield from the cut and be thankful for it. They wouldn't have to become cannon fodder anymore.

The troops of the royal guard, on the other hand, would still fight even after their whole leg was chopped off, to say nothing of a mere cut. Shipping them to the region will be the end of the road for them. All they had to care about after that was looking after their families and working for their survival and livelihood.

By the same reasoning, the townsfolk would be given the same treatment. Even though their towns were suppressed, they would still try funny business if they were left alone and cause trouble around the capital nonstop. Thundercrash had to make an example of Lodeway and Kozinbak so that the citizens of the other towns knew what was coming for them if they dared resist.

The results spoke for themselves. Apart from the third town that resisted no more than two hours, none of the other towns objected to the troops' search. Even as the townsfolk who were found to be hiding guns were arrested, their neighbours had nothing to say about it, merely peeking through their closed doors and windows.

The submission of the third town completely quashed all signs of resistance in the remaining nine. The ruins of Lodeway and Kozinbak caused the next four towns to react like the third. Apart from a few dedicated resistance fighters, the rest of the townsfolk were meek, sitting ducks who watched Thundercrash tear through the resistance fighters. Those who wielded weapons to fight were publicly shot dead in the town square before their families were taken away.

Apart from a 30-percent tax levied on the towns that submitted, they were free to go about their daily business. Thundercrash only cared whether they were harbouring firearms and ignored normal bladed weapons or bows. They also didn't ransack the homes of the townsfolk.

Thundercrash's officers only captured the resistance fighters and their families. Fighters who surrendered on their own accord wouldn't be shot, but they would still be taken captive along with their families. The ones that dared fight back were given swift deaths.

The houses of the fighters and manors of the nobles and local officials were searched and their property was confiscated. Even the empty houses had to be sealed off to be dealt with later. The townsfolk weren't allowed to enter and occupy them.

By the time they reached the last three towns, the three lines were acting together. Much to many's surprise, the townsfolk had been well prepared to welcome the troops in. They had done everything beforehand, having tied up the fighters themselves and gathering them and their families in the town square.

The sight of the pile of weapons in the square, the curses of the fighters and the cries of their families widened Dyavid's horizons for good.

A few elders of the town humbly said that their townsfolk hadn't caused any trouble and only wanted to live in peace. They were doing the fighters a mercy by tying them up. At least, they wouldn't be shot dead for resisting and wouldn't involve other innocent civilians.

Just like that, the whole area around the royal capital fell under the control of Thundercrash. Claude then gave the order for a large-scale search in Polyvisia that lasted half a month. As sector after sector of residences were searched through, gunshots and explosions rang out nonstop. Some 20 thousand insurgents were killed and around 200 thousand of their families, the soldiers, nobles and officials were separated into prison camps.

Thundercrash finally gained true control over Polyvisia and rid themselves of lingering troubles. The sweep operations killed up to 100 thousand insurgents, earning Claude the moniker of Butcher of Polyvisia.

Chapter 509 - Saint Lusk Naval Battle

The skies above the seas were rather cloudy.

Moriad stood on the undulating deck and saw the sails appearing on the horizon through his telescope. He felt a rush of excitement at finally having seen Seaking.

It had been two long months of disappointment after disappointment for Moriad and Ironclad. His searches were fruitless. Even more frustrating was that he'd been unable to complete Claude's mission. Seaking had disembarked two Shiksan corps.

It all happened after Ironclad suddenly attacked the Canasian port of Northbay. It was also one of the most prosperous bays and largest coastal storage areas in Eastern Freia. Countless ships from the south docked there. The three Canasian cities near it developed into prosperous trade cities very quickly once it was opened. Nasri and Canas' new naval forces were also docked there.

Since Shiks lost the navy they rented, Nasri and Canas no longer had their own. Fortunately, Shiks paid out a sum to make up for the loss, which they subsequently used for forming new fleets. After three long years, they finally had around 20 warships.

Moriad attacked Northbay right at that time. Before Ironclad, the unprepared sail warships were completely wiped out. Eleven of the new warships burnt and sunk before countless eyes while 16 others were captured by Ironclad. There were also 48 transport ships belonging to Canas and Nasri that were taken by Ironclad as spoils. In broad daylight, Ironclad left Northbay unabated with all their captured ships and warships.

The successful attack caused Ironclad's reputation to soar overnight. Almost everyone knew about the monstrous ships that had cannons that made rumbling sounds as they fired. More importantly, they sailed much faster than sail ships could. From then on, Ironclad was no longer a secret. Wherever they showed up would become no-go zones for Shiks, Nasri and Canas.

However, Moriad regretted his mistake of exposing Ironclad and causing Seaking to not dare enter the eastern waters at all. He should've ambushed Seaking and exterminated the two corps of reinforcements first. Attacking Northbay only served to startle the snake and caused them to change course to let the troops on shore at Port Kalja in Nasri.

Nasri had two large ports to its north and four smaller ports. Seaking usually docked at Port Camiras where the facilities were among the best. The original plan was for the two corps of reinforcements to be sent there. But after seven days of laying in ambush along that route, Moriad got word that Seaking docked at Port Kalja instead. It was a small port that developed from a fishing town located roughly 150 kilometres from Port Camiras.

Moriad hurriedly sailed to Port Kalja, only to realise that Seaking was nowhere to be found. The two Shiksan corps also left the small port town, making Ironclad's trip a waste of time. Soon, Moriad realised that their movements in the eastern waters were being watched. The passing of trading or fishing ships from other nations would always mark wherever Ironclad was a noteworthy spot.

Under such circumstances, Ironclad didn't have a chance to track Seaking down. While the region also had informants in those areas, they weren't able to get into contact with the higher-ranking officials. Most of the information they sent came from rumours and gossip. Ironclad had never had success in finding Seaking through the information they provided.

Thankfully, reports finally came from the informants that Seaking had been transporting some military gear to Nasri. However, the date they would depart was still unclear. To prevent entering the enemy's sights again, Moriad settled on a plan.

He used the sail warships he captured to form a large fleet and put steam engines on their decks, causing them to generate lots of black smoke. He had them sail in broad daylight towards Port Floric. The other 20 plus ironclad warships, on the other hand, switched to using sails and headed to the outer seas at a really slow speed before switching to their steam engines and sailing into Nasrian waters.

One of Nasri's neighbours, the Kingdom of Mambamark, had an island called Saint Lusk. It wasn't that large, having only a large mountain and a small fishing village. It was also covered in oil palm. In local folklore, the island was the physical manifestation of the ancient hero, Lusk, who managed to slay a gigantic sea monster. After his energy was expended, he transformed into the island to protect the fishing folk and sailors in these waters.

Ever since then, the area came to be known as the Saint Lusk Region. Nasri and Mambamark often had disputes about who that region belonged to, but given Nasri's might, Mambamark had no choice but to endure and concede the area to them with the condition of ensuring the safety and fishing rights of the coastal fishermen.

Now, the 20 plus ironclad warships managed to sneak to the rear of Saint Lusk. They even cut off many palm trees to cover their ships so that passing ships wouldn't see them. Seaking finally came after ten more days.

"There are 117 sail warships, 92 among which are light-class patrol ships. There are 20 class-two three-masted ships and five class-one five-masted warships. The ships are divided into five flotillas sailing in a cross formation. There are another 200 plus transport ships."

The lookouts on the ships quickly reported what they saw. According to an estimate of the distance, Seaking's escort would take another hour or so to reach the Saint Lusk Region. Given the northeastern winds, Seaking was partly sailing against the wind and couldn't speed up much.

"All hands, get ready to enter your battle stations. When Seaking passes through this region, I want to storm out at them and catch them off guard," Moriad ordered fiercely. As long as he could exterminate Seaking, there was no way for Shiks to get back up. They would no longer be able to count on their fleet to sail across the eastern waters of Freia.

There wasn't much of an element of surprise, however. The thunderous rumbling of the steam engines had long attracted the attention of Seaking. Three light-class patrol ships left their fleet and sailed towards the islands to see what was going on. The smoke coming from the other side of the island might've made those in Seaking think that a fire had broken out on the island. It didn't occur to them that Ironclad was there.

Seaking's commander wasn't a fool and had long been briefed about Ironclad. He was well aware that they were no match for them. The sudden attack of Northbay happened right under their noses, and they weren't able to do anything about it as the new navies of Nasri and Canas were captured or wiped out.

How to deal with ironclad warships had become a common question the navies of the various Freian nations began to consider, Seaking included. However, the ocean was so vast. If they couldn't beat them, they could simply avoid them. Had it not been for the captured ships sailing towards Port Floric with steam engines, Seaking wouldn't have risked themselves to sail in Nasrian waters to escort the transport ships.

But the moment Seaking found out that the black smoke from behind the island came from ironclad warships, they knew that they had fallen for it. They could only fight to the death now. The commander immediately ordered the transport ships to sail along coasts or escape as soon as possible while Seaking's warships were to sail and surround the ironclad warships and use mortars and napalm rounds before using their cannons at close range. There was no point in using cannons against the ironclad warships from far anyway.

There was another way the ironclad warships could be dealt with: having two ships surround its flanks to board and swarm it with sheer numbers. Even if the victory was a pyrrhic one, at least they could capture an ironclad warship to reverse engineer and build their own. With more than a hundred sail warships fighting only 20 ironclad warships, the battle could go either way.

The two fleets spewing flames and metal thus clashed. Initially, Seaking suffered heavy losses, with 13 of their class-three light cruisers being pelted by white phosphorus and being set alight. However, their larger numbers allowed them to continue swarming forwards and separate the five frontmost ironclad warships from the rest of their feet, successfully encircling them. The three burning class-three light cruisers rammed at the ironclad warships in an attempt to take them down alongside themselves.

Four to five ironclad warships from the destroyers from the rear increased their speed as they fired and rammed at the ships that surrounded their comrades in an attempt to rescue them, only to end up surrounded themselves and being pelted by napalm and mortars from all directions. Flashes and black smoke started to appear on the ironclad warships, causing great damage to the sailors on deck.

Seaking wasn't doing much better. There were so many explosions and so much smoke that they couldn't get a clear grasp on the situation any longer. Pained cries for help rang out all over the place, with sailors jumping into the flaming seas with floats from time to time.

After nearly an hour, Seaking's commander got two reports, one good and one bad. The good news was the top of two ironclad warships had fallen under the boarding party's control. But the bad news was the inner cabins of those ships were metal as well. The remaining crew of those ships had retreated into their cabins in defence. There was no way to open the thick metal doors at the moment, so they couldn't properly take over the ships.

The bad news was Seaking had lost three flotillas already. The ones burning were the three flotillas located to their front left. Most of their crew were busy putting the fires out. The smoke was so thick that continued battle was no longer possible. They couldn't chase down the rest of the enemy's warship either.

The remaining enemy warships had learned their lesson and no longer tangled with the burning ships. Instead, they used their speed to cruise about from a distance to bombard the sail ships with their cannons.

The commander of Seaking was faced with a painful choice. He could either give up on the warships still in battle and retreat to retain most of the transport fleet and the two flotillas, or fight to the bitter end. Even if he won, he would've expended the whole fleet only to capture a few ironclads. It would still be a worthwhile fight even if he lost the whole fleet, however.

The issue was he didn't even have a good grasp on the current state of the battle with all the smoke. Were most of the enemy ships clustered together, with only a few firing at them from a distance? If that was the case, the near 50 ships from the two remaining flotillas had a good chance of obtaining victory.

But before the commander even managed to make his decision, 12 ironclad warships burst out of the curtain of smoke towards them at breakneck speed. Flames could be seen coming from their masts, decks and bridge; a testament to the damage they had suffered. But as they were covered in metal, those were negligible damages. They were still combat capable.

Seaking no longer had the luxury to escape. But upon first contact, they felt something was odd. The 12 ironclad warships didn't charge into their midst, and instead used their speed to make a large turn to maintain a distance of near 800 metres away from Seaking's ship, slowly circling them as they fired with their cannons nonstop.

Sail ship after sail ship was set alight, especially their gigantic masts that looked like burning torches. They were now immobilised targets floating at sea. The officers hurriedly lowered their wooden lifeboats, and the sailors that couldn't get any hugged planks or ring floats and jumped into the sea like their lives depended on it. Quite a few explosions triggered from gunpowder being set alight could already be heard.

They couldn't fight back at all. The moment they were certain they couldn't keep up with the ironclad warships' speed, the class-three light cruisers immediately left the chaotic zone. Soon, the remaining 40 plus warships fell into chaos and confusion. Some were still pursuing from the front while others ignored all orders and tried to escape.

Seaking's commander had no choice but to order a full retreat so that the remaining warships could return to Shiks. Once the flag signal for a fortunate voyage was sent, the other ships weathered the joint attack of four ironclad warships for an hour before finally being sunk. The remaining eight ironclad warships pursued the escaping ships for up to three hours, managing to capture a large number of transport ships. They only ended their pursuit as the skies turned dark.

The naval battle at Saint Lusk was the first large-scale naval battle with ironclad warships in the world of Faslan. It marked a new beginning for the first time in the past millennium for naval battles. Traditional cannon volleys, boarding and napalm were phased out and new naval tactics had started to be developed.

What was without question was old naval traditions were rendered completely obsolete with Ironclad's appearance. The Shiksan Seaking could be considered among the most elite naval forces in Freia, yet they had been beaten horribly by a mere 20 ironclad warships despite having 170 ships of their own. Less than a flotilla managed to escape and return to the kingdom.

Soon, the Freian nations began their frantic foray into ironclad-warship technology. The simpler ones merely coated their sail ships with a sheet of iron or bronze armour, while more complicated designs counted on buying various steam and hot-air engines from the region to be modified for use on ships. The most common tactic was to send informants to infiltrate the region to get the designs for the ships, trains and new weapons themselves.

To Ironclad, the battle at Saint Lusk was hard fought, especially with them losing two-thirds of their deck crew. All of the ships were damaged to some degree. The mortars and napalm the Shiksans used weren't completely useless after all. The two ships that were almost captured were the most badly damaged. All of the new cannons on deck were rendered useless and severe cracks were present on the hulls from the frequent ramming. The ships were nothing more than husks that still managed to sail thanks to their steam engines still being intact.

Moriad also suffered some injuries, having almost been blasted into the air by a mortar. Fortunately, his adjutant pinned him to the ground to save him, allowing him to survive with a broken right arm and a burnt left leg. Either way, the results of the battle were highly favourable. They managed to destroy more than 70 Shiksan warships, forced 21 to surrender and captured near a hundred transport ships with all sorts of resources.

After the battle, Ironclad rescued another four thousand Shiksan sailors and crewmen. With Ironclad having used up most of their coal, Moriad had no choice but to order them to sail to Saint Lusk to fell some palm trees on the island to be made into fuel so they could sail back to Port Floric with their spoils and captives.

Chapter 510 - Severe Circumstances

"Are you there, Dear?" Claude asked as he stepped into his bedroom where he didn't find Sheila with a book as usual.

She was instead working on something with her portable array. Sheila had insisted on tagging along on the excursion. They settled on disguising her as one of Claude's personal guards. She had gone with him all the way to Polyvisia. Apart from the guard band and Claude's minions, nobody knew he had taken his lover along.

"Oh, I went to the gold cave. I took two accessories with me," she said without looking up.

They stored all the jewelry, artwork, and other valuables Thundercrash had collected along the way in that cave. Actual coinage was stored separately. While the Nasrian treasury was not as rich as it used to be thanks to the war, its populace was still quite wealthy. Two sweeps saw Thundercrash gather large amounts of wealth worth up to 50 million crowns in total.

The amount startled even Claude. Thundercrash hadn't gotten three million crowns even when they conquered Sidins and Rimodra and confiscated all the nobles and royals' property. Compared to the Nasrian royal family, the two dukes and their nobles were outright beggars.

As Thundercrash 1st Folk's swift attack was so quick that most of the royalty and nobility didn't manage to escape, their wealth fell into Thundercrash's hands. Compared to the two million crowns' worth of goods in the national treasury, the Nasrian royal treasury gave Thundercrash quite a fright. Not only did it have up to six million crowns' worth in coinage, they also had much rare jewelry, and many pieces of art and collectables worth nearly ten million crowns.

Additionally, the wealth of the Nasrian nobles in Polyvisia include roughly five million crowns of coinage and countless pieces of precious wares and artworks. The next two sweeps through the resisting civilians also brought them much coinage, and surprisingly, lots of other precious wares as well. That alone already went far beyond Claude's expectations.

There was no better-organised gang of robbers than the army. Apart from the goods in the gold cave, there was another pile in the royal palace, such as the gold-laced crockery given to every single soldier of the royal guard during the celebration of Nasri VII's 50th birthday. Claude had planned to give them to Thundercrash's troops to commemorate their capture of Polyvisia.

Nasri didn't have a national bank like Aueras did. They had a royal bank. The royal bank was in charge of minting and issuing coinage and making high-interest international loans. They didn't hold small savings accounts. The reason for that was Nasri was still a largely feudal state where nobles had personal fiefdoms, thereby restricting the royal family's ability to open bank branches all over the place. The loans and economies of the fiefs were in the hands of the nobles themselves.

With all the spoils, everything was settled. They no longer had to worry about the soldiers' rewards. They had also earned back their gear expenses of the last several years and wouldn't have to worry about the military budget for the next five or six years either.

However, Claude was quite curious about what Sheila was doing. He had given her a few expensive gifts before, but she seemed completely disinterested in the fancy trinkets so beloved by noblewomen. Usually, all she did was bury herself in the tomes collected by Nasrian royalty while waiting for Claude to return. She often complained about how those tomes contained nothing but made-up stuff. The most accurate sources were still the books her mother had left her.

Claude approached her and found her using the array to observe a really intricate sapphire necklace.

"This is a magic necklace. I read in a magical notebook in the royal family's collection that said this necklace contains a composite mental spell that is a fusion of Tempt, Illusion and Charm. The wearer can obtain the full trust of his or her target. In effect, the affected will fall in love with the wearer and obey them unconditionally, even if it means giving their lives away. That's why it's called the Devil's Temptation. I'm trying to copy the composite spell formation inside."

Nowadays, all she did was tag along with Claude and research various spells. It was no wonder she would pick it out. Claude shrugged his shoulders and asked, "Is this necklace really that powerful?"

"It's mostly exaggerated. Mental spells are really complicated. Well... how should I put it... if the target is a magus, then there's less than a one-in-ten chance of success. All magi meditate. It helps defend their psyche against mental spells. If the target is a normal person, it'll also depend on whether their mental power is strong. The stronger it is, the better they can resist. Composite spells like that are mainly used in tandem with a matching atmosphere, like that of a banquet or ball, to tempt one's target for the best effect."

Claude recalled Mental Shock and how it hadn't worked on the magus that tried to rob him. Sheila was only researching the necklace because mental spells were really rare. She was trying to recreate the three spells from a single composite formation.

Thundercrash had only managed to rid all risk factors from Polyvisia, finally securing the first phase of controlling the area around the capital. They had sent their scouts in all directions to get a grasp on the war's situation. Clearing out the towns around Polyvisia had wasted two months, so they needed an update on the kingdom's situation and whether Aueras had undertaken any action.

Three days later, Claude received word from Ironclad about the battle at Saint Lusk. Seaking's defeat was quite a relief. He didn't have to worry about being attacked from the eastern waters anymore. However, he was a little worried about the two Shiksan corps that managed to get ashore. He immediately ordered the scouts to survey the five northeastern prefectures of Nasri.

When 1st Folk charged into the Nasrian heartland, it was as if a blade had been stuck in the nation's vital organs. The rest of the kingdom was completely unprepared for such a blow. Later, Claude led 2nd Folk to do the same and swept through the 16 central prefectures of Nasri, leaving only the five northeastern prefectures and seven southwestern prefectures still untouched.

The five northeastern prefectures were coastal territories, whereas the seven southwestern prefectures bordered Aueras. Before the five-year war, Nasri only had two prefectures in the southwest whereas Aueras had 32 prefectures and Ibnist Plains, making it the nation with the largest territory in Eastern Freia. After the war, Aueras gained even more territory, taking control of two-thirds of Eastern Freia and becoming a superpower to be reckoned with.

However, civil war broke out during the colonial conflict. Prince Wedrick ascended the throne as Stellin XI and immediately sold five of the border prefectures to Nasri for military funding to chase Prince Hansbach out of the heartland into the newly conquered territories.

That only caused the kingdom's territory to shrink. Only 27 of the original 32 prefectures still remained in royal control, and the 23 new prefectures were abandoned. Aueras immediately fell to become one of the smallest nations in terms of landmass, causing the other nations to start beating them while they were down and almost wiping them out.

But with the region's military aid, they managed to turn the tables. Sidins and Rimodra were banished back to the grave with no hope of reformation, with the dukes and their families all captives. Thundercrash then occupied Polyvisia and swept most of Nasri, leaving it at death's door.

However, Thundercrash fell into a surprisingly dangerous situation...

"What the hell are they thinking?!" Claude fumed over the chaos caused by the royal court just when everything was looking good.

He never dreamt the officers that had sworn they would chase the enemy off their land would actually let them peacefully leave, allowing them to reclaim Ibnist Plains and the royal capital and the lost prefectures.

In the past two months when Thundercrash was busy wiping out local resistance, the Union's army had made their move. They still had three Nasrian corps, three Shiksan corps, one Canasian corps and the new joint corps of Sidins and Rimodra, numbering up to a total of 500 thousand men.

While they had superior numbers, they were no threat. Sidins and Rimodra were exterminated and their two corps were no longer motivated to fight. They just wanted to surrender and go home. Nasri's three corps were intent on rushing back to retake their royal capital as well. As for the three Shiksan corps and the Canasian light-cavalry corps, they were no longer willing to weather Monolith's attacks. They couldn't even if they wanted to.

As such, the Union's army began their retreat. They first retreated from the second defence line to the first before retreating back to the Aueran capital. When Monolith noticed what was happening, they began tailing them like a sneaky wolf in the shadows, preparing to deal another crippling blow.

Monolith remained a looming threat everyone was cautious of, so the officers of the Union didn't hesitate to throw the two new corps of Sidins and Rimodra at Monolith to stop their advance. They probably believed the two new corps to be more burdens than allies.

The troops of the two duchies immediately surrendered when they were discarded. The ideal move to make at that time was for Monolith to round them up and hand them to the royal guard, Griffon, and Reddragon before continuing to pursue the Union's army, forcing them to continue to discard more men to halt their advances. Those men would be helpless free wins for Monolith.

Had it gone as planned, then even if the Union managed to retreat from Aueras, conflict would have flared in their ranks. They would've lost at least half their men as well. After all, nobody was willing to become the sacrifice, especially when they were doing so without glory at all during a retreat. Monolith's targets were the three Shiksan corps and one folk of Canasian light cavalrymen. They wouldn't allow those units to return to Nasri intact.

However, the royal guard, Griffon, and Reddragon heard about those plans and ruined them. They refused to take over the surrendered troops of the two duchies, insisting on pursuing the retreating army of the Union themselves. The high-ranking officers in the ministry of the army and a few nobles in court told Fredrey I that Monolith already earned more than enough merit, so it should be the three reformed corps' turn to perform.

So, Fredrey I ordered Monolith to be his personal guard, which was a great honour that Bolonik and Birkin weren't allowed to refuse. The three main corps of the kingdom got their wish to become the main force to pursue the Union's army.

However, the Union feared Monolith, not the other three corps. Since three years ago when the war started, the Union was already familiar with the three corps of Aueras and their capabilities. The moment Monolith switched out in place of them, the Union's forces immediately set up a formation on Ibnist Plains and started their final battle in Aueras.

As expected, the three Aueran corps rammed straight into an iron wall. While both sides were raring to fight, the battle ended swiftly in a touch. There were only a few casualties, with Reddragon taking the brunt of it, being at the forefront and losing two lines of men. The royal guard and Griffon immediately turned tail and ran the moment things seemed bad.

Even though the three corps could work together so well when they tried to hassle Monolith for benefits in the temporary royal court, they would immediately start to fight one another when Monolith tossed them a lot of supplies. They wanted every last scrap they could get their hands on. It was the same with the pursuit of the Union's army. Reddragon chased them the fastest and wanted the biggest slice of the pie, only to lose tens of thousands of men.

Meanwhile, Griffon and the royal guard didn't have the slightest bit of solidarity with Reddragon and didn't bother to save them either. Instead, they turned and ran, filled with schadenfreude, and cheered from the sidelines. Reddragon's troops grit their teeth in anger at their bad luck and immediately left the battlefield.

Had Monolith swiftly continued their pursuit after that small engagement, the region's plans would be complete. However, the three corps hid word of their failings and maintained that they were continuing their so-called pursuit. In fact, they had a tacit understanding with the Union's forces that they would reclaim the kingdom's lost territories after the Union successfully retreated. Just like that, the three main corps 'reclaimed' the territories as they escorted the enemies out of the border back into Nasri comfortably.

Once the Union's army was back in Nasrian borders, they got themselves back together. They were on home ground and the seven southwestern prefectures had readily built defences for them to take Monolith's attacks. Most importantly, they still retained a fighting force of 400 thousand, not having suffered any casualties at all during the rest of their retreat.

The moment the scouts reported back to Claude, he found that Thundercrash was in a tough predicament. There were two Nasrian corps in the five northeastern prefectures of Nasri, two reinforcement corps from Shiks, as well as an urgently formed light-cavalry corps in Canas, totalling up to 300 thousand men.

In Nasri's seven southwestern prefectures, on the other hand, there were the 400 thousand troops that retreated from Aueras. The original plan was to thin them down to half that number so Monolith could keep them at bay without letting them affect Thundercrash. But now, the total number of enemy troops was ten times that of Thundercrash. It was clear their next move would be the reclamation of Polyvisia.

Thundercrash 1st Folk and 2nd Folk didn't even have 70 thousand men. They couldn't possibly take on that many enemies, especially with the vast amount of wealth, 100 thousand war captives and their 200 thousand isolated families needing to be defended!

Chapter 511 - Choosing to Fight or Leave

"We should abandon Polyvisia and retreat immediately. The region only deployed two corps this time. Our mission isn't to help the kingdom take over the whole of Eastern Freia. It's just to help the kingdom repel the invasion. We've done our part and then some. We reclaimed the lost territory, exterminated two duchies, and drove the Union's army out of the kingdom's borders.

"Our strategic objectives have been achieved. Shiks no longer has a foothold in Eastern Freia, and the extermination of Seaking means they'll no longer be able to interfere in matters in this part of the continent. We also conquered Polyvisia. Nasri won't recover in any less than several decades. We got a rather good deal as it is. We should quit while we're ahead," Berklin said during Thundercrash's meeting.

His views were shared by many of the men. As long as they held Polyvisia, they were at risk of having to face off against the 700 thousand soldiers in the five northeastern and seven southwestern Nasrian prefectures. Berklin wanted to run immediately, with their spoils at least. They couldn't leave it to the enemy.

But Dyavid would not accept running from a battle. He represented the autonomous region's battle maniacs. So what if the enemy outnumbered them ten-to-one? It just meant shooting ten times more. There was no need to do something as humiliating as running away.

Claude was at a loss with his two minions. Berklin wasn't the cowardly sort; he'd never have led his lone folk against Polyvisia if he were. He only preferred fighting battles when he had a reasonable expectation of victory, and preferred ones with low casualty numbers. The way he saw it, with Nasri ransacked, they could not get back up anytime soon. Thundercrash should pack up and return to the new territories.

Dyavid, however, stood on the opposite side of things. He was too confident in Thundercrash. He'd even on occasion talked about how invincible it was. After all, he dared to charge against 100 thousand with just 10 thousand. He didn't care for casualties either. Who could challenge him when he had results to back up his madness? All he saw in the coming fight was a chance to win more honours. He would not accept running away from such a chance.

They would be fighting against ten-to-one odds, at best. They would be legendary heroes if they won such a fight. Dyavid's faction didn't fear death, they only feared the enemy's cowardice denying them their grand fight. They believed Thundercrash could wipe out any kind of enemy. They believe it so fervently and unquestioningly their first response to facing an enemy with 700 thousand men, was to load their rifles and prepare extra ammunition.

Claude himself was quite conflicted. Unlike Berklin and Dyavid, he looked at it from a more big-picture perspective, allowing him to see further-reaching implications and make more grounded decisions.

Berklin's move to retreat and abandon Polyvisia would, in effect, render Thundercrash's efforts void. They would be giving up on the best chance to wipe out Aueras' archnemesis, something Claude didn't wish to pass up.

The real reason for the chaos in Eastern Freia was the constant struggle for supremacy between Nasri and Aueras. The land and its people would only see peace once one was completely destroyed. As long as both lions stood on the same mountain, every generation would see war. It would be bad enough if it was just those two fighting it out every couple decades, but they always dragged their neighbours into it as well.

Claude wasn't willing to give up on this opportunity. Ending this constant bickering had become his personal mission. He understood he could only gain greater recognition within the kingdom by taking down their long time nemesis. Putting aside the old nobility, who had no right or business bossing him around, even Fredrey I would have to think twice before badmouthing him. The potential benefits were endless.

Additionally, leaving as Berklin suggested wouldn't be an easy task; the 50 million crowns' worth of wealth wouldn't be that easy to leave with. Unless all of Thundercrash changed into infantry to use their horses to pull carriages filled with their spoils, there was no way they'd be able to leave with all of it.

Naturally, there was the option of distributing the spoils in advance, though that went against the region's regulations. The main issue was how good the soldiers could still fight while bringing along all their spoils with them. Claude would never do something so foolish as to cripple himself. It would also affect the discipline of the troops negatively.

That aside, there were more than 100 thousand captives. The isolated 200 thousand family members of those captives also wouldn't be easy to deal with. They were to be transferred to the region to solve the manpower issue since Fredrey I and the royal court refused the region's request to recruit more people from the mainland. They even insisted nobody who didn't have any familial relations with the settlers were allowed to become immigrants. Since Monolith's arrival, there had been fewer than a thousand people who had moved to the region.

If Thundercrash decided to abandon Polyvisia, there would be no way for them to take the captives and their families with them. All they could do was bring along some of the more high-profile captives like the royalty and nobility. If they wanted to take all of them along, they would have to keep watch and escort them, which would greatly decrease their ability to fight. Even if the enemy didn't actively try to stop them, the slightest accident or chaos on the journey would be enough to deal great damage to Thundercrash.

Even if taking the captives along was impossible, Claude wasn't too willing to give up on them. The captives were deathly loyal to Nasri and they wouldn't be thankful to Thundercrash even if they were set free, especially with how their property was confiscated by them. Freeing them was akin to aiding enemy forces by expanding the pool of experienced officers to recruit from. Thundercrash's problem would only further be exacerbated and they would soon lose control of the towns around the royal capital.

He believed the only solution his officers would suggest was to kill them. Since they couldn't be let go, killing them was the only solution. Thundercrash could have a far more relaxing time leaving after that. However, Claude didn't want such a decision to be made on his watch, or he would truly be known as a bloody slaughterer for good.

While he exterminated only insurgents across the towns near Polyvisia, he was already considered the Butcher of Polyvisia because of the 100 thousand civilian casualties. While he didn't personally kill any of them, he had given the orders.

Though, it was still understandable, and Claude himself didn't really mind that moniker. Thundercrash's men were only wiping out insurgents. They couldn't just stand still and let harm come to them just because their opponents were women, children or the elderly, after all. As long as they were the enemy, they were to be felled with no exception. Civilians who didn't resist, on the other hand, wouldn't be touched by Thundercrash's troops. Their wealth wasn't confiscated and their women weren't teased. Discipline the likes of that was almost never seen in armies of that era.

While killing enemies on the battlefield was justified, acting on defenceless captives was something that would immediately earn Claude a slanderous reputation that would extend to even his descendants. There were unspoken rules in Freian wars that captives were to be cared for and ransomed after the war in good cases, or used as labourers in bad cases. However, no nation would condone killing off captives just like that.

Claude was going to send them to Loki Mountains so they could make a living mining. That was standard protocol and nobody could fault him for it. But if he killed the 300 thousand captives, he would definitely be lambasted for it, even in the region. Nobody liked merciless slaughterers who harmed defenceless people.

The only reason his officers could suggest something like this was the different position they held. All they had to consider was Thundercrash's wellbeing, so they made decisions that benefited Thundercrash without any other regard. The one who made the decision would be Claude anyway, so all credit would go to him.

He couldn't kill them, but couldn't release them either. The best solution was to crush the approaching troops of the Union and wipe Nasri out for good. That way, they would have enough time to transport all captives and wealth back to the region. However, Claude wasn't even sure how he could pull it off.

Dyavid's only strategy was to charge in to beat the enemies up regardless of their numbers. Claude wasn't nearly so reckless. An army of 700 thousand wouldn't be as useless as Nasri's 18th Standing Corps. At least, those in the seven southwestern prefectures who retreated from the frontlines at Aueras and had lots of actual experience in battle. That 400 thousand were the actual foes he had to be wary of, with them being nearly as powerful as Aueras' royal guard.

While the 400 thousand troops were defeated badly in Ambruiz, it was largely due to their low morale for fighting on Aueran soil and the two duchies' newly formed troops that dragged their feet down. The rockets and new cannons also caught the enemy off guard, resulting in their ultimate defeat. But during that retreat, they had a rather stable performance and even caused Reddragon significant casualties in the battle on Ibnist Plains. The three corps of Aueras could only let them leave the kingdom without much of a fight.

While Monolith triumphed in the battle at Ambruiz, they expended half their ammunition stores. Had the Union been aware of that, they would've continued attacking nonstop with their numbers. So long as they were willing to pay another price of 200 thousand troops, they would be able to drain Monolith of their ammunition to the point they would no longer be able to hold Ambruiz.

It was fortunate they had no idea of that at all, being too shocked by the fearsome might Monolith had shown. The extermination of the two duchies and Shiks' new territories being reclaimed as well as Polyvisia's occupation gave the Union's army no choice but to retreat to Shiks to make sure their escape route wasn't cut off.

If the royal guard, Reddragon and Griffon had continued tailing the Union nonstop and applied some pressure, Claude wouldn't have been so vehement about the court and ministry's interference to the point of calling them shameless.

Little did anyone expect, the royal guard returned to the Aueran royal capital after the Union left the borders, leaving Reddragon and Griffon behind to set up a defence line at the border, allegedly to prevent the enemy from coming back through.

It made no sense at all. Couldn't they just cross the border into enemy territory to attack? Since the enemy invaded Aueras first, they should return the favour! The fact that they didn't only put Thundercrash in a more perilous situation.

There was also some good news. The transport fleet once more arrived at Port Floric, bringing with them six garrison lines from the region. They were stationed in the crucial towns and cities in the two duchies.

A huge shipment of ammunition also came along with them. Eiblont was rallying Thundercrash's direct forces to escort the ammunition to Polyvisia. However, they would only arrive after twenty plus more days.

Thundercrash's direct forces which reported to corps command only comprised one independent, enhanced combat line and four logistics and security tribes, as well as administrative officials, healers and other support staff. They numbered 15 thousand in total. With them escorting ammunition to him, Claude felt a little more confident in holding Polyvisia. But he still had to consider whether he ought to take the initiative to attack to slow the march of the Union's army before Eiblont joined up with him.

The other good news was Monolith had left the Aueran capital and was on the way to cross the Audin Mountain Range to reinforce them. However, Monolith was an infantry corps unlike Thundercrash, so they required a month and a half to travel to Polyvisia. Bolonik and Birkin wrote that they hoped Claude and the rest would be able to hold on until they arrived.

Given all that, he couldn't leave now even if he wanted to. He decided to let Berklin's 1st Folk attack and slow the Union's army's march, at least until Eiblont arrives with the ammunition. However, he received a surprising piece of news before 1st Folk set out.

"What? The three Nasrian corps now fly Prince Vedario's banner? They're not marching towards Polyvisia, but are setting up a defence line in the prefecture of Giovalvo instead?"

Claude, Berklin and Dyavid had no idea what sort of insanity overcame the Union's soldiers for stopping halfway. Though, it wasn't surprising to them that the escaped prince joined up with the Union's army. What was shocking was how he managed to gain control of the three Nasrian standing corps so quickly.

Chapter 512 - Prelude to Battle

Per Claude's plans, one of his two folks had to stay behind to guard Polyvisia to defend the walls and watch the captives. So, he only had access to one mobile combat folk. The enemy, however, would be coming from two directions, the northeast and southwest respectively. No matter where Claude sent his folk, however, he wouldn't be able to stop the other side's troops from approaching Polyvisia. That would effectively cut the two folks off from each other.

That was the reason he wasn't able to make a decision until the very end. No matter where he sent the one folk, he wouldn't be able to crush the enemy that had a few hundred thousand men. They could hold them back a little, but not stop them completely, despite putting themselves at huge risk, especially with them being on unfamiliar Nasrian terrain.

Berklin suggested to Claude they should use Miselk's tactic against the five Shiksan standing corps in Balingana and Cromwell. Using Thundercrash's mobility and penetrative capabilities, they should completely obscure all enemy reconnaissance so they could only march forward blindly and eventually run out of food from their slow march, causing them to ultimately surrender.

However, it was shot down almost immediately. The environment of battle was too different. Back then, Miselk used scorched earth on those two colonies, so the Shiksans were basically walking into his trap. They weren't even given a chance to properly fight and were instead pulled around by their noses.

Thundercrash was now on the invading side in enemy territory where the civilians were extremely hostile. Claude suspected that if the scouts he sent out weren't careful, it was likely they would be attacked by Nasrian civilians. The enemy, on the other hand, could easily gain respite at the towns and villages, obtaining food and information while they were at it. It wouldn't be an easy task to cut off the enemy's information source.

All Berklin's attack with 1st Folk could achieve was harassment and attacking the enemy's rear. They would also have to be wary of any ambushes or traps the enemy set for them. He didn't let Dyavid's 2nd Folk attack because he was worried about Dyavid's reckless temperament. It wasn't off character for him to attack the enemy without regard for casualties. Claude wanted to win, but he didn't want to pay a huge price for it. Being in enemy territory, every single soldier was an asset to be cherished. Their lives were of utmost importance.

Even so, Claude still couldn't grasp the whole picture of the battlefield he was on. First, the 400 thousand enemies retreating from the southwest approached Polyvisia, but the 300 thousand troops coming from the northeast stayed put without advancing instead of working together with those coming from the southwest. Prince Vedario's rendezvous with the troops in the southwest also earned him three Nasrian standing corps immediately. Similarly, the army from the southwest also set up camp and stopped advancing.

Claude had no choice but to instruct Berklin to stop his attack. He didn't understand what the Union was up to, for them to give up on such a good opportunity like that. It was only some five days later that Wolfang caught a Nasrian logistics officer from the northeast and interrogated him to find out about what was going on.

The troops in the northeast stopped because Moriad's Ironclad successfully destroyed Seaking and captured near a hundred transport ships carrying food and military gear which Shiks sent Nasri's way. Currently, the two new Nasrian corps formed in the five northeastern prefectures were practically unarmed, with only a small portion of 120 thousand soldiers armed. They had to wait for further aid from Shiks.

Had Shiks' two corps not managed to get ashore and Canas not sent another light-cavalry corps as reinforcement to protect those two Nasrian corps, they might've disbanded long ago. Shiks was hoping to make another shipment to them so the two corps could be fielded.

Even so, Shiks wouldn't be transporting them through the sea any longer, with Seaking already defunct. They had no warships to escort another transport fleet and making any attempt without an escort was akin to donating supplies to Ironclad. So, they would be transporting the goods over land through the kingdoms of Bleyotte and Mambamark. Shiks still required some time to negotiate an agreement with those two kingdoms for passage before battle could resume.

It was worth noting that the commander of those two Nasrian corps was the third Nasrian prince, Prince Daklid, who was the son borne of another one of Nasri VII's concubines. He was said to be not as cherished by Nasri VII. However, he was given a decent post as his uncle was a Nasrian duke and Lord Militant. However, that Lord Militant was now imprisoned in the palace by Thundercrash with the other high-profile captives alongside the king.

Claude immediately understood why the 400 thousand troops of the Union stopped halfway before reaching Polyvisia. It looked like Prince Vedario was to thank for that. Only two Nasrian princes weren't in the royal capital during its fall, so they didn't fall captive. As a result, both of them had personal ambitions and wanted to use that opportunity to one-up one another. Perhaps they were secretly thankful to Thundercrash. Had it not been for them, the one to succeed the Nasrian throne would no doubt be their eldest brother.

The three Nasrian corps in the southwest answered to Prince Vedario whereas the two new corps in the northeast were in Prince Daklid's hands. Had Nasri not already been involved in a war which involved so many other nations, such a civil war would've broken out between the two princes.

It was a shame that with the Shiksan army in the mix, any clear-headed Shiksan officer wouldn't allow the two princes to come to blows. Given how the Union's forces were mostly counting on the five Shiksan corps, Nasri's little squabble would easily be quelled. Nasri might even become a vassal state of Shiks under the ambitious Majid III.

With things having developed this way, Claude had no choice but to continue the war to the bitter end. Nasri had to be eliminated for lasting peace to exist in Eastern Freia. The two princes had to side with Shiks to be able to lay claim to the throne. No matter which one became king, they would no doubt become Shiks' tool anyway, so as long as Nasri still existed, Shiks could use them to instigate even more conflict with Aueras. What the weakened Aueras needed the most now was enough time to rest and recover.

However, it still came as quite a relief, as the matter between the two princes would require quite some time to resolve even with Shiks mediating between them. And time was precisely what Thundercrash lacked. At the very least, he could start transferring the captives and wealth away without worrying about an attack.

He believed those two princes wouldn't bother to rescue their captured brothers and Nasri VII and would be more willing to see them sent to Aueran prison so that they would have fewer people to compete with for the throne.

After some consideration, he stopped Berklin from attacking. Apart from sending out a line to scout around and monitor the two enemy camps, he had his other three lines escort the captives to Eimis in old Sidins. He also wrote to Eiblont there for him to set up a camp for those captives until the war ended, after which they would be transferred to the region.

As long as they had enough time to transport the captives away from Polyvisia, Thundercrash would've freed their own hands for combat. Nevertheless, making such a move was still a huge move for Claude. If the Union suddenly attacked Polyvisia in the midst of the transport, they wouldn't be able to hold on with only one folk of troops.

It took around 18 days on horseback to make a round trip between Polyvisia and Eimis, but it was hard to say the same with escorting captives. Even if Claude used all the carriages in Polyvisia to transport them, the many changes and accidents along the way put the fastest estimate of a round trip at 25 days.

Meanwhile, the 400 thousand troops in the southwest were only 15 days of marching away, and that figure only applied to infantry. The light-cavalry troops of Canas would only take a week to arrive. Fortunately, they only had a folk of them. If they dared to attack Polyvisia alone, Claude was confident he could take them all down.

It turned out that things played out according to his predictions. Even though the two princes were aware that Thundercrash was moving the captives, they made no moves whatsoever. While it was understandable for Prince Daklid to do so, since his two corps still weren't fully armed, it was likely that Prince Vedario didn't act out of fear, given how shocked he was to see 18th Standing Corps crushed by the two lines Dyavid led.

And so, a fragile, odd peace descended on Nasri. Thundercrash transported the captives to Eimis in an orderly manner whereas the 700 thousand troops of the Union made no moves, save for the two princes' heavy initiatives to gather food from the surrounding area.

In time, Eiblont finally arrived at the royal capital with ammunition. Half a month later, the last batch of captives departed for Eimis. It was then when the enemy troops from both directions made their move, but they didn't head for the royal capital, but rather, the prefecture of Bismonk.

Bismonk was situated at the border of Nasri and Mambamark and was the neighbouring prefectures of Durmel and Glasom, which were near the royal capital. Those three prefectures had been swept through by Thundercrash 2nd Folk, so the troop movements of the Union immediately drew his attention.

The troops that gathered in Bismonk were split into three parts, with the five Shiksan corps being in the middle, the five Nasrian corps taking the left flank and the three corps made up from 1.5 Canasian corps and the local Nasrian garrison forces taking the right flank.

After ten days of resting in Bismonk, Nasri's five corps now flew the flag of Prince Daklid before the main force headed for Glasom. The vanguard comprised the nobles from the local prefectures who willingly enlisted, numbering around 80 thousand men. The five Nasrian corps followed behind them, who were in turn followed by the five Shiksan corps. Canas' three light-cavalry folks flanked them on both sides for security and also had a unit with the vanguard at the front.

Birkin finally rushed to Polyvisia with Monolith 2nd Folk, while Bolonik and 1st Folk remained in Eimis to watch the 100 thousand captives and their family members. Preparations were being made to transport them from Port Floric to the region.

Claude could finally go all out. He left defence to Birkin and Monolith 2nd Folk whereas he and Eiblont took the two folks of Thundercrash to meet the enemy vanguard in Durmel.

Glasom and Durmel were mostly plains with few small hills dotting them. There were many waterways in those two prefectures, with most of the famous rivers in Nasri branching off in them. It was said that decades ago in Nasri, there was a proposal to form a waterway transportation network through the kingdom. However, as that infringed upon the nobles' fiefs and wasn't able to gather enough funding, the plan was never implemented.

The two prefectures were developed extensively thanks to ready access to water, making them the main food producers of Nasri. It was also a place where all sorts of artisans gathered and made their products. As those two prefectures were under the direct control of the Nasrian royal family, there was no need to keep the nobles' interests in mind, so the civilians led fuller and richer lives, making them greatly supportive of the royal family's rule.

However, the troops of Thundercrash only came to understand the true meaning of entering enemy territory once they were in Durmel. Not a single town or village's civilians were willing to cooperate even with the prospect of being paid.

Fortunately, Dyavid's 2nd Folk easily swept the local garrison forces under the rug and knew how best to deal with the stubborn Durmelians. For instance, if the troops wanted fresh fruit or vegetables, they would go pick them without permission before tossing the money that should've cost to the owners. It was something the Durmelians had gotten used to. Since the soldiers didn't default on their payments, the civilians solemnly and unwillingly tolerated it to make a side income.

It took eight days since their entry into Durmel before they encountered the Union's army. It was the 14th of the 10th month of Year 600 when Thundercrash's light-cavalry scout tent ran into a cavalry clan from the Union's vanguard near a town called Bodra. Roughly three to four hundred enemies charged towards Bodra when they discovered the scout tent with their riding blades drawn.

The scout tent, however, turned tail and executed a firing retreat, continuing to lead the enemy on nonstop. Soon, the two cavalry clans joined the tent and turned around. The Union's troops had become the hunted, leaving only little more than ten lucky cavalrymen managing to escape once they encountered another clan of infantrymen on their side. The tribe that attacked the Union's troops managed to kill around 300 enemies while suffering only 18 injuries and zero deaths.

The enemy immediately retreated some five kilometres away, but before one night had even passed, Berklin personally led 1st Folk on an offensive. He only used a volley of cannon fire and 300 rockets to completely flatten the enemy camp. 1st Folk and 2nd Folk continued the pursuit till daybreak and greatly damaged the vanguard, with only a couple ten thousand escaping.

While the first encounter was a beautiful victory, Claude wasn't too excited. He knew that the 80 thousand vanguard troops were merely a disorganised bunch. They were cannon fodder used to test out the artillery of Thundercrash, so nobody really cared about their victory or loss. Thundercrash's real enemies were the 12 corps of Shiks, Nasri and Canas.

On the 14th of the 10th month, the Polyvisian Battles, as they had become later known, had begun.

Chapter 513 - Clash in Polyvisia (1)

"We won't be able to get any support from the defensive formations here," Drivick told his adjutant, Wedrak, "Even though our troops' weapons and capabilities are far superior to the enemies', we won't be able to use terrain to our advantage here in Durmel. The disparity between our numbers is far too large. Have 28th Tribe retreat and have 7th Reserve Clan cover their retreat."

Thundercrash 2nd Folk 7th Line was surrounded by a Nasrian corps since the morning of the 17th of the 10th month. Had the enemy only been one folk, they would've been able to repel them even on flat land. However, a whole corps was sent to their front and both flanks. They closed in like a swarm and applied huge pressure to 7th Line's defences.

The so-called defences were nothing more than a few trenches dug into the ground along a half-metre deep stream. It didn't help increase 7th Line's defences much. While there were still spots the enemy's artillery couldn't reach, a growing amount of casualties had resulted from direct clashes with enemy soldiers.

As much as they didn't like to admit it, Prince Vedario was not only a brave commander, but also a capable one. The attacks he launched using the Nasrian corps didn't use traditional line-and-march tactics, but rather, he scattered the soldiers into row after row of attackers to charge towards the defences and get into prone when they were 200 metres away from them. They crawled until they were only 80 metres away before they started firing at the defending Thundercrash soldiers.

At the same time, the Nasrian corps gave up on their wooden shield carts, using them to protect their mortar launchers and light-barrel cannons from behind the infantry. They slowly pushed the launchers and cannons into their attack range before firing. Artillery accounted for most of the casualties suffered.

Even fools would wisen up in war. Having suffered so much from Monolith's attack, the tactics the Union used improved considerably. While Thundercrash's new rifles and cannons were indeed impressive, 7th Line was losing ground against the Nasrian corps' attacks.

Scattering the troops decreased the effectiveness of each cannon shot, with each only being able to harm a handful of men. Given the enemy's numbers, they could afford to take such losses. Going prone and crawling into range some 200 metres away also made it really hard for the soldiers in the trenches to aim. Some Nasrians even used the corpses of their comrades as shields and cover. Firing from a range of 80 metres, on the other hand, allowed even the primitive muskets to pose quite a threat to Thundercrash's men.

The light cannons and mortar launchers were also rather dispersed, making it hard for the region's cannons to cause great destruction. It took a few shots before they could take out one of those launchers. At the same time, they would have to prepare themselves against the round shot and the mortars the enemy fired. Even though the Nasrian corps suffered many more casualties in proportion to 7th Line, it was negligible for an army of that size.

Drivick could only opt for a fighting retreat to slowly sap the enemy's momentum. Claude didn't order him to defend the place no matter what, but rather, lure them to Polyvisia instead.

After fighting from morning to evening, 7th Line finally shook off contact with the enemy. The enemy suffered an estimated two lines of casualties whereas 7th Line suffered a tribe's, only a quarter of the enemy's. Drivick was quite troubled about the prospect of 7th Line's survival after five days of the same per Claude's orders.

Thundercrash 2nd Folk's mission was to intercept the enemy by expanding the defence line, just like 7th Line, whose mission was to face off against a corps at the left flank of the defence line alone. They were under more pressure than 5th Line and 6th Line, who were defending from straight on. However, Drivick managed to complete his task and maintained an orderly fighting retreat with the rest of the defence line.

It was Berklin and 1st Folk's turn to attack at night. They would cause the enemy, who occupied the defence line, some trouble. At the very least, they wouldn't be allowed to rest well. As Claude often said, they had to offer their concern for their enemies' health as well by firing a few cannons at night to remind them to get up and take a piss.

The next morning while 2nd Folk was busy intercepting the enemy, 1st Folk continued to dig trenches at the rear where 2nd Folk would fight the next day. They also had to field a line of cavalrymen to observe enemy movements, lest they got attacked from the rear by the three Canasian cavalry lines.

Claude gave Drivick high praise during the meeting in folk command that night as 7th Line suffered the least casualties among the rest. The other three lines also had to face a corps of their own. Their warriors charged in with bloodlust and fervour and even mounted a few counterattacks. While they managed to deal great damage, their casualties were comparatively more. 6th Line lost around two thousand, being practically half crippled.

As expected, Claude was quite mad about that. "We are in Nasrian territory. The enemy can always get reinforcements no matter their losses, but each of our losses is permanent! We must cherish the life of every soldier! Don't forget what I told you when we deployed from the region. I would rather bring them back alive than their cold corpses."

After he vented, Claude began his discussion with 2nd Folk's officers about their experiences and lessons to be learned during the interception that day.

"We lack weapons that allow us to deal with the dispersed enemies effectively," Drivick shared immediately. "The new cannons are good, but they can't fire scattershot, so we have no way to deal with troops within 100 metres of us. While the steel helmets helped decrease our casualty rate, it isn't perfect. The enemies also learned to use their comrades' bodies as cover, often stacking them on top of each other. We'll have no choice but to use mortars to get to them, but the trenches are too small and not suited for that."

That was one of the things Thundercrash did a little carelessly. Nobody would expect the enemy to use a method like that. They thought that they could easily pick off the enemies from their trenches without letting them approach within a hundred metres. Little did they know that the enemy would learn from past battles and use their superior numbers to get Thundercrash to use up their ammunition and battle potential while also decreasing their own casualties.

"We should field the old muzzle-loading cannons once more to deal with the scattered enemies. We also need to set up light mortar launchers in the trenches to bombard the advancing enemies with. The new cannons shall mainly be used to deal with enemy artillery," said another linesman. Many others agreed with his assessment.

Claude nodded. "We've improved somewhat on that front. So far, the 30 thousand captives of our corps will be working to change the layout of our defences. I believe the enemy will regret it if they use the same tactic again tomorrow. All I want is for you to watch your own casualties as you lay ruin to your enemy tomorrow.

"At three tomorrow, you may retreat. We'll set up another stronghold some 15 kilometres away. Fight as you retreat and set Polyvisia as your final battlefield. The real enemies we have to deal with are the five Shiksan corps at the rear, not the Nasrian cannon fodder."

Had it not been for the surprise first-night attack that got Thundercrash their 30 thousand captives, Claude himself might've ordered them to look for chances to deal the enemy damage while they were on the run. With the captives, however, their labour could be exploited in the fight against the Union's huge army.

They used their new weapons to thin down enemy numbers and to test the resolve of the Union. As expected, Shiks had the five Nasrian corps positioned at the very front to use as cannon fodder. The winner of the conflict between the two princes, Vedario, proved himself rather capable in occupying the hurriedly built defences of Thundercrash in a day.

While Claude wasn't too satisfied with the casualties of the first day, with them having lost nearly five thousand men about the size of a line, only 2nd Folk's capabilities were affected. The five Nasrian corps lost about a fifth of their men, nearly 70 thousand in total, so their performance next day was sure to be lacklustre.

The thunderous blasts of the cannons from the distance and the sight of a few hundred rockets soaring through the skies was a sign of 1st Folk's surprise attack on the conquered defence line. What Claude didn't expect was how the cannons and rockets soon stopped firing. Replacing it was a heated firefight with rifles and muskets.

Not long after, Masonhughes barged into his tent to report that the three Canasian light-cavalry lines launched a sudden attack on 1st Folk.

Even worse was how the enemy was prepared beforehand. Using the night as cover, they had the cavalrymen hidden near the flank. Berklin split his men into tribes when he attacked, so they weren't able to regroup in time during the attack and suffered heavy losses.

Claude punched himself on the head for his carelessness. His frequent night attacks were sure to be something the enemy could get used to and prepare for. He had been too careless, and Thundercrash's soldiers thought that the enemy would only remain in their camps and take the beatings. The trap they laid in advance really cost Thundercrash lots.

By the time 2nd Folk urgently deployed, 1st Folk had lost up to 12 thousand men. Most of the lines suffered losses and even Berklin suffered a cut on his left arm, being bloodied all over.

Fortunately, his life wasn't in danger. Perunt rushed there and said he was lucky that the blade had not cut lower and deeper, otherwise Berklin would lose an arm. Fortunately, the guards around him rescued him by quickly cutting the Canasian horseman off his mount in time.

After the treatment, Perunt said Berklin would have to rest for half a year if he was to keep his limb. He couldn't apply any force at all if his arm was to recover. In other words, he would be sent to the rear and couldn't remain on the frontlines. Claude was quite troubled over the severe consequences their complacency had begotten.

The only good news was 2nd Folk managed to fight back fiercely and slaughter large swathes of Canasian cavalrymen. They had easily lost over a folk. However, two tribes of 1st Folk were also abruptly eliminated during the attack and many new rifles and cannons were unaccounted for.

Claude could do naught but shrug. It was impossible to not lose a single of those weapons on the battlefield, but the number they lost this time was unprecedented. Even so, those weapons couldn't be easily forged by the enemies, mainly because of the ignition powder Maria had invented. There wasn't any formal study of chemistry in this world. Instead, rune magi mostly experimented on materials using alchemical arrays. It was extremely hard to recreate a substance without knowing its exact ingredients.

It was a result of the odd, Faslan selfish quirk. On old Earth, scientists couldn't wait to boast about their research. In time, the periodic table of elements was developed and all sorts of chemical research were published. Only then could future generations of chemists build upon old research to further progress in the field.

In Faslan, however, magi kept their research secret and made no notes, preferring to store all of them in their minds. Their craft was seldom, if ever, passed on to others. Add to the monopoly of information the upper classes maintained, generalised physics and chemistry weren't taught to the masses. While Aueras boasted about its general education system that gave peasants a chance to study, it was in truth a systemised method to keep the population dumb, or at least dumb enough for control to not slip from the rulers' hands. It was no wonder the various nations still used muskets six centuries after their invention.

Claude snapped out of it and began asking about 1st Folk's experiences. The truth was simple -- Berklin gave the same old order for his four lines to split into four directions and bombard the enemy camps in tribes to harass them. They didn't expect the Canasians to be laying in ambush long before. The enemies charged 1st Folk from their left flank without warning.

The night was enough to obscure the incoming enemies. By the time they were detected, it was already far too late. The individual tribes weren't able to weather the attacks at all. Once the troops emptied their loaded clip, they didn't even have time to reload and got straight into a melee with the bladed horsemen.

That was how Berklin got wrapped up in actual battle. He didn't even have time to signal the two lines at the right flank to regroup. The Canasian cavalrymen, being blended with the other soldiers in the night, were no longer concerned about being shot down. They launched into a fervorous frenzy, dealing 1st Folk a heavy blow. It took until 2nd Folk came with their rifles for the enemy to retreat.

Perhaps due to the morale boost or extensive rewards offered by the Union's brass, the Nasrian infantry launched an even more daring attack the next night. However, 2nd Folk had long been prepared and intentionally lured them in. Every time the enemy was about to retreat from the pressure, 2nd Folk took a step back to give them the impression they were gaining ground, causing them to neglect their mounting casualties.

By the time Thundercrash finally gave up on the defence line for a full retreat, the Nasrian officers noticed they lost more than half of their four corps and were no longer able to resume the fight. More than 200 thousand troops were sent into the chaos, and only around 100 thousand remained. Corpses and the injured littered the battlefield, whereas the Auerans managed to leave with their own injured and dead.

After that battle, Nasri was completely spent. The troops they still had amounted to less than two full corps. It was now Shiks' turn to deploy their five corps. However, they were surprised to find that Thundercrash no longer pushed back against their advance and instead rapidly retreated to Polyvisia, giving up on the 30 thousand captives in the process. However, their legs were given a cut like before. They weren't able to serve in the force and were instead burdens to the Union.

The Shiksan officers and other high-ranking officers of the Union held the unanimous view that Thundercrash retreated because they used too much of their ammunition and suffered too many casualties. It was a golden opportunity for the Union and they had to press on immediately so that Thundercrash wouldn't be able to pack up their wealth and leave Polyvisia in time.

Chapter 514 - Clash in Polyvisia (2)

Lord Militant Pillag Xi Feriot rode on his beloved mount, a majestic white horse without a single strand of messy hair, as he watched the sight of troops marching endlessly with a solemn sigh. For some reason, he felt rather troubled and disturbed. However, when the troops saw him, their commander-in-chief, they would burst out in cheers.

"Long live the duke!"

Those should be the citizens from his fief. Only they would call him that.

"Long live the Union! Long live the Lord Militant! Long live Shiks!"

The other slogans and cheers were a tangled mess.

As the new commander-in-chief of the Union's army, he might not have the reputation he did now had he not led the Canasians in their beautiful ambush that rid them of the Aueran attacks at night. Nasri's Prince Daklid wouldn't have heeded his advice to launch that fierce attack the next day either.

He had to admit that his king's choice in letting Daklid succeed the Nasrian throne instead of the cowardly Vedario was rather sound. Vedario had always been spreading word of the enemy's terrifying might in the camp, often exaggerating them out of proportions and claiming that it wasn't his fault he suffered those losses. It was the enemy being far too strong for them to take on.

While the Shiksan king, Majid III gave the Lord Militant the right to choose the heir to the Nasrian throne, he ended up deciding to go with the king's choice of Daklid. He sent Vedario back to the kingdom as an ambassador, but he was actually sending him there to be a hostage. At the very least, Daklid was willing to follow his orders to fight the enemy while Vedario only wanted to hide at the rear and reap the benefits.

However, Daklid was quite the merciless fellow. Pillag had to be more wary against his plots in future. He let the prince lead the troops against Shiks' former rivals, the troops of the autonomous region, for him to experience their might for himself.

Little did he know that the attack against Thundercrash's defences would cost them the three corps of troops that joined Vedario. Currently, the 100 thousand plus Nasrian troops remaining were Daklid's own men, whereas the ones who joined Vedario numbered few and far between.

Pillag didn't want to interfere in the kingdom's troublesome matters. He knew well what the two princes did to one-up one another. While it was quite dastardly of the two princes to not send any troops to rescue their royal father, Nasri VII, and other relatives, Majid III was clear in his letter that this was an ideal opportunity for Shiks.

The first commander-in-chief of the Union's forces, Count Norbridon Bang Belondi, was quite the unlucky fellow. He had been sent to Nubissia into the colony of Fochs to attack the Aueran Autonomous Region, only to lose horribly. In the end, he was summoned back by Majid III, who thought he was getting dull with his age.

However, when Majid III's beloved general, Marquis Kralio Dor Sirius, was sent to fight on Nubissia, he also suffered a loss. Even though their docking at the fishing town near Lanu was shocking, the region's troops still managed to neutralise their forces. The three corps were wiped out just like that.

Following that, Marquis Kralio Dor Sirius soon fell horribly sick and had to be transported back to the kingdom. Before the kingdom found a suitable candidate to send there to take his place, word from Nubissia was that the two corps overseas had been eliminated by troops of the region. Even the colony they leased had been conquered. Shiks had utterly failed in the colonial conflict and Majid III lost lots of face for it. The perception of Shiksan military might among the other nations fell considerably as well.

However, Pillag was more than aware of the reason his king insisted on fighting that war with the Aueran colonies no matter if they would win or not, being a spectator of the whole spectacle. If they won, Majid III could send the landed nobles to the colonies. If he lost, he would be expending the forces of the local nobles.

Right now, which noble would dare stand against their king? Putting aside the nobles who were put down during the rebellion, the king even reclaimed the fiefs of a few of them for their failures on Nubissia. Nowadays, more than half the territory in Shiks belonged to the royal family. There were no nobles who could band together to fight the royals like before. Now, all policies in Shiks were dictated by the king alone.

Naturally, the loss in the colonial conflict did still humiliate Majid III somewhat. That was also why Norbridon was counted on by the king once more. He proposed the plan of conquering the new Aueran territories with help from the other nations in Eastern Freia. The pretense for the war was to help the two dukes who fled to Shiks restore their nations.

Majid III took the suggestion and gave him command over the troops. Things went smoothly as he had planned, with Shiks now gaining their own patch of territory in Eastern Freia and the two duchies being restored. Shiks also started to gain their respect from the neighbouring nations back. Nobody dared to mock the Shiksan king any longer.

Had they stopped there, the matter would've ended nicely. However, the king formed a Union with the other four nations and pointed their sword at Aueras. Nasri, not willing to become a minion of Shiks, formed their own faction in the Union and didn't really listen to Majid III's orders. They then started that war of debt with Aueras.

Things would've been fine if the king had been content on seeing Nasri and Aueras ruin each other. However, the king wanted to teach Aueras a lesson using this opportunity and called for the formation of the allied army. At the start of the war, they were making good progress. Despite their casualties, their advance wasn't much affected. Aueras was horribly defeated and even lost their famous royal capital.

And so, Majid III happily rushed to the royal capital to hold his parade to humiliate Aueras. He also gave a speech, highlighting his dedication in wanting to wipe Aueras out for good as revenge for the colonial conflict. It was after that when the autonomous region sent their troops to the mainland.

Almost immediately, the Union's army suffered heavy defeat and lost up to half their numbers. Thundercrash also docked at Port Floric in Rimodra to retake the new territories as they exterminated Sidins, Rimodra and took the new territory Shiks just got. Thundercrash then conquered Polyvisia, Nasri's capital, and things kept on spiraling downwards.

Back then, Norbridon was afraid his route back would be cut off, so he gave the order to retreat from Aueras into Nasri, earning him the king's ire. He was fired and summoned back to the kingdom to reflect on his actions. Then, Majid III visited Pillag in his fief and appointed him to be the new commander.

Pillag was quite the legendary figure in Shiks, having inherited the ducal Title before the age of twenty. As his fief was located at the northern border of Shiks and often came under raids of the northern barbarian nations, his father perished on the battlefield when he was still young.

Once he became duke, the young Pillag worked hard to manage his fief. He sold what he could from his household to build an army of six thousand soldiers armed with firearms. A year later, he led his troops to wipe out two of the northern barbarian nations nearest to his fief. The rest begged for forgiveness and peace in fear of death, offering many gifts in the process and promising they would never raid the fief ever again if they were spared.

Pillag's achievement of forging new territory for the kingdom was a little too much. Coupled with his Title of duke and status as Majid III's nephew, he was made Lord Militant at a young age. Back then, it was a mere empty position that came with honour and an annuity. It wasn't an official position in the army, otherwise, even Majid III wouldn't be able to sleep well.

Fortunately, Pillag knew his place and didn't leave his fief often once his vengeance for his father was complete. He didn't cause trouble for the king with the other nobles either. Before the civil rebellion, he told both the nobles and the king he wouldn't be participating in the civil war.

This time around, he only agreed to take the position as commander-in-chief because of his familial relations with Majid III and his curiosity towards the troops that managed to wipe out nearly 20 Shiksan standing corps on Nubissia. The first time he saw those cannons and rifles he looted from the battlefield, he knew he wasn't dealing with a traditional Freian army. It was foreign and completely different from troops he could ever conceive.

But in another sense, Pillag also noticed Thundercrash's flaws, namely, their pride and carelessness. Without their superior weapons, they would be no different from slightly strong mounted infantry. So, Pillag completely ignored the range advantage Thundercrash had and ambushed them in close range, causing them heavy losses from facing off against the Canasian cavalrymen.

But the most terrifying part of Thundercrash was their ability to reflect on their shortcomings. During their first attack against the five Nasrian corps, they relied on their superior numbers for an advantage. However, they realised that the enemy had made up for their weakness. Nasri used the same tactics but ended up with a completely different result.

The attacking forces suffered grave casualties, while the defending Thundercrash troops made their response in orderly fashion. Even though they were wounded themselves, they weren't as badly battered as the first time around. They didn't charge out of their trenches to fight the Nasrians in a melee, but rather, calmly shot at them from their trenches.

If it was possible, Pillag would've gotten the five Shiksan corps to retreat fully to the kingdom. That alone showed how pressured he was by Thundercrash's adaptability. If he were honest, he was merely wasting Shiksan lives to allow Thundercrash to test their new tactics. Not only were they unable to leverage their superior numbers to fight the enemy, even if they won, they would have lost far too much.

However, Majid III's orders were for him to chase the Aueran troops out of Nasri completely to ensure that Nasri and Canas still stood in Eastern Freia. Aueras was never to be allowed to unite Eastern Freia, no matter the losses Shiks would have to suffer for it. As long as those two nations still existed, Shiks would be able to interfere with Eastern Freian affairs and would still have a chance to fight back at Aueras.

As long as Pillag could reclaim Polyvisia and put Prince Daklid on the throne for good, Nasri would have no choice but to count on Shiksan support to continue to exist. Shiks would've gotten themselves another vassal state. To achieve that goal, Shiks allowed the two princes' inaction while Thundercrash was transporting their captives away. Yet, they had let up on the best chance to reclaim the royal capital.

The sole reason Aueras still managed to hold on were the two corps from the autonomous region. If Pillag managed to deal them severe enough damage to cause them to retreat, any price he paid would be worth it. What came next would be a peace negotiation with Aueras. In a few years when Shiks managed to forge the new Aueran weapons and reform their troops, the day of Aueras' fall would soon come.

While Majid III's letter didn't directly interfere with Pillag's command, the king's objectives were clearly stated. Polyvisia had to be reclaimed, Prince Daklid had to become king, and Nasri was to completely rely on Shiks. No matter how unwilling, Pillag had to achieve those requirements to the last letter. He ordered his men to march for Polyvisia.

A few riders approached quickly. The guards were just about to stop them, but they saluted when they recognised who they were. The riders ignored the guards and rode uphill.

"Lord Duke, are you in the mood to get a good view from the highlands?" the leading rider yelled.

Pillag chuckled at the sight of Marquis Archiberger Way Chalx, the corpsman of the Canasian light cavalry. The successful surprise attack back then put him in a rather good mood.

"Lord Duke, your mount is a sight to behold!" Archiberger said as he almost drooled at the sight of the duke's beloved steed. "The great northern horses are far better than our Canasian grassland horses in terms of height, leg length, charging speed, bulk and cold resistance..."

"Alright, that's enough. I can't give you my Whitebow, but I have three other northern horses back there. Feel free to take one with you. When the war ends, I'll go back to the north to pick a few fine ones for you," Pillag said, stopping the marquis' praises immediately after sensing his motive.

"And in fact, grassland war horses are still the best fit for cavalrymen," Pillag continued, "Northern horses are too expensive and get sick easily. Their diets also have to be carefully monitored. They can't endure long gallops either, unlike grassland horses. While yours are smaller, they can last much longer. They can even charge at night as long as there's moonlight. It's the best type of mount to field on a large scale.

"Northern horses are practically blind at night and are far too sensitive. They don't like to move at night and are afraid of the dark. So, their stables have to be lit or they'll cry nonstop like children. The sight of a mere rat is enough to get them neighing for days. Horses aside, did you come here to tell me something?"

"Yes, Lord Duke. Our scouts report that Thundercrash's men have all retreated to Polyvisia. The Nasrian informants report that they don't seem like they're going to retreat any further back. They look like they want to defend it to the end. One folk from Monolith and two folks from Thundercrash are stationed within it now. The Nasrians saw Thundercrash enter the city with some ten thousand injured soldiers."

Pillag mulled for a bit in silence before his expression turned serious. "Looks like they want to fight their final battle there. We have no choice but to oblige them."

On the 7th of the 11th month of Year 600, the Union's troops marched to Polyvisia for a grand battle.

Chapter 515 - Clash in Polyvisia (3)

"It's been three days. The enemy's advance has slowed considerably. We can make an opening and let them into the city. Otherwise, if they continue to sit there without attacking, we'll be in big trouble. All our efforts might go to waste," Birkin said.

Claude stood at the sand table modelled after the city and shook his head in frustration.

"No, their commander is really sharp. While his attacks over the last three days seem overpowering, they're merely probes. They lost mostly just garrison and nobles' troops who willingly joined the attacks to reclaim their capital. The five Shiksan corps mostly stayed back during the fighting.

"I had someone do some counting. There are almost no dead in Shiksan uniform; less than a thousand. I suspect they know our defences are spread thin. Since they spent three days testing us, they should be hoping we will leave the city and retreat. They left a way out so we'd run for it. They don't want to fight us for the capital.

"All we can do now is hold on. We have to use our defensive advantages to defeat the five corps. Nasri won't be done until we finish this, and we can't move on to Canas until they are. Since the enemy wants to play the long game, we'll oblige. Hopefully, they'll eventually attack so we can pretend to retreat without drawing any suspicion."

"What if the Shiksan corps don't move?" Eiblont asked hesitantly.

"Then we'll wait some more." Claude tapped on the map. "I've written Bonik and Myjack and asked them to rush to Eimis with a line from 3rd Folk. We'll have Bonik's 1st Folk send men here and pretend to be a folk of reinforcements. If the enemy want to take the capital, they'll have to attack us after noticing our reinforcements and try to chase us out before they arrive."

The Union didn't meet Claude's expectations, however. They launched a major assault the very next day. All five corps were involved. It seemed they had decided the defences were weak enough to make their move. They forced Thundercrash and Monolith to give up the outer walls and pull back to the inner city.

"We lost nearly ten thousand. The enemy's casualties should be around five times that," Birkin reported with a grave expression as he handed the reports over to Claude.

Claude saw that most were injuries of varying degrees. Dead soldiers' names were circled twice in black, but they numbered less than two thousand, much to Claude's relief. The injured troops had been sent into the field hospital within the capital and the corpses of the dead had been collected. They would be cremated and their ashes would be transported back to the region when the chance came.

The loss of ten thousand was akin to the loss of two lines. While the enemy suffered five to six times that number, losing almost a corps, Claude felt that it wasn't that great a deal. However, considering the 100 metres beyond the walls and the seven trenches they gave up, he could only endure it.

"The enemy used lighter mortar launchers in their attack today. The attacking troops ran all the way to the trenches before letting them loose, catching us off guard. We didn't expect them to do something like that. That was the reason we suffered so much and lost the two trenches at the front. After that, we paid them back with our own light mortars by lobbing some into the trenches they took. We also focused our attention on the enemy mortar mortars immediately. The stalemate lasted till late afternoon before we retreated the rest of the way."

Eiblont also reported about his situation fighting at the defensive fronts. He believed that the enemy was rather hard to deal with, given that the five Shiksan corps were among the stronger ones in the Union's army. They were really familiar with spreading their troops into waves and had strong fighting spirit. However, that also made them easier to convince that the Auerans' retreat was true, since the defending soldiers were at a much worse-off position than they were.

The enemy was likely to attack the walls again. They could afford to give up on the western wall, but they had to keep the northern and southern walls defended at all costs. Even if the west was conquered, the enemies would have to proceed towards the warzone Claude had set up in advance. That area used to be the place where the captives and their families were kept. Now that they had been transferred away, a third of the streets in that area was converted into battlegrounds by Claude.

However, the Union's commander seemed to be trying to force Monolith and Thundercrash to retreat from Polyvisia on their own accord instead. He didn't attack right after occupying the front of the wall, choosing to spend five days collecting the bodies of the dead soldiers and digging some tens of trenches so that they could transfer their troops effectively.

When all was completed and seeing no sign of the Aueran corps retreating, the Union started their siege anew. They attacked from three separate directions just like before, but committed six corps from the get-go. The western and northern sides were attacked by one Nasrian and Shiksan corps respectively whereas two Shiksan corps went for the south. The enemy commander was trying to use numerical superiority to completely crush any will of the defenders to fight with overwhelming force.

That was a brilliant move in Claude's book. They were well aware of the biggest weakness of Thundercrash and Monolith. Each of the three walls could only be defended by two lines of around ten thousand men. Even with the fortifications, it simply wasn't possible to defend against wave after wave of enemies.

The enemies were all infantrymen trying to climb up the walls or shoot at them. The defenders' full attention was drawn. They didn't even have to aim, as they would hit an enemy by simply pointing in the general direction and shooting. Nobody noticed the approaching cannons and giant launchers from far away.

By the time the defenders finally detected them, it was too late. If they focused their attack on the cannons, they wouldn't be able to keep the enemy from getting onto the walls, especially with them being only five to six metres in height. The ladders stacked all over the walls could easily allow the enemy troops to climb up and fight in a melee. Claude and Birkin had no choice but to form up the remaining logistics and administrative troops into a reserve unit to be sent to reinforce them.

When the first enemy mortars landed on the walls and blasted everyone away, friend or foe alike, Eiblont led the defenders in a retreat to give up on the walls. Eventually, the western wall started flying the Shiksan and Union flags. Countless excited soldiers of the Union chatted and cheered for their expensive victory.

In that era, successfully conquering the wall was good enough to be considered a victory of the attackers. The defenders could either surrender or leave. The Union wondered why the battle on the southern wall still raged on despite the western wall having been taken. The cannon fire rang especially loud. The attackers, on the other hand, had lost the will to fight. The western side was already taken and they could simply take the walls from there. There was no point to continue fighting from the other side any longer and waste lives.

So, the gunshots in the north and south of the city gradually quieted down. The defenders on both walls even turned to the western wall for a counterattack, only to be beaten back. There was, however, still crossfire from the far sides. The Union had to separate the walls with sandbags in the end and fortify their position. They seemed to be rather short on gunpowder, only firing once in a while, unlike how frequently they attacked in the beginning.

However, the troops that entered the capital from the western wall were immediately attacked. The Auerans hid in the buildings, alleys and behind barricades as they continued attacking the Union's troops, causing their troops to be littered on the streets. The Union's troops managed a slow advance, but the sly enemy fought as they retreated slowly backwards, leaving behind a trail of empty bullet jackets.

Duke Pillag felt extremely uncomfortable, as if something was wrong about being so easily taking the walls. The fact that the enemy was still fighting that fiercely after the conquest of the wall was weird in itself. Usually, the loss of a wall meant the end of the siege. The defenders should choose to leave or surrender. Pillag even intentionally left a way for them in the east to depart through. It would be a win-win situation where both sides no longer had to suffer losses.

Soon, news came from the city explaining why the enemy didn't retreat. A Shiksan officer ran to the command post with a sack and poured its contents out on the desk. Treasures of gold and silver blinded the eyes that set sight on them.

"Lord Militant, we found storehouses in the city with these treasures... There are three in total, all filled with wealth! Our troops are going insane bursting inside to grab some for themselves. The troops in the city are saying that the two enemy corps gathered around tens of millions of keptons' worth of treasures in the capital! There are ten other storehouses like these in the city. This is the reason the enemy wasn't willing to retreat! They don't have enough carriages to transport these all away!"

Too bad it was already too late. The troops in the city couldn't be stopped. Even those outside heard about it and were either scrambling in through the western wall or requesting permission to be allowed to attack the enemy.

The Nasrian prince, Daklid, on the other hand, rushed to Pillag to make his objections clear. He believed the wealth belonged to Nasri, and therefore, him, its new king. However, Pillag expressed that he was helpless to do anything about it. He couldn't order the troops to hand in what they got lest they harmed the morale of troops on the frontline.

However, he said Daklid could have priority to let his own men lead the attack on the enemy. That way, all storehouses he found would be his. Daklid had used the fact that he only had a corps left as an excuse to refuse to join the city battles after the siege, after all.

When an orderman came to report that Canas' Marquis Archiberger Way Chalx also sent his only remaining cavalry corps into the city, Daklid could no longer hold on and immediately left. Not long after, the reformed Nasrian corps flooded into the city.

Gunshots at the western wall rang louder and louder. The Union's soldiers ignored all casualties as they charged for the enemy. Once the enemy finally left their fortifications, the Shiksan troops cheered and cried, not for defeating the enemy, but rather, getting to sweep the abandoned homes for anything of value.

The whole of the Union's army had fallen for the bait. Nobody cared about their injured comrades. All their eyes turned red upon hearing about new warehouse discoveries. To be the first to take the treasures for themselves, one Shiksan clan clashed with a band of Canasian light cavalrymen, resulting in a tragedy of ten plus dead and injured. In the end, they were stopped by Nasrian troops that rushed over.

Apart from Daklid's corps that still showed some organisation, the other 200 thousand Union soldiers in the city had completely disintegrated. They were either searching buildings for treasure or rushing to where the gunshots were the loudest, since it meant people were fighting over the treasures there. Their gold rush caused them to ignore the piling corpses around them as well as the cries for help of the injured.

Many of those empty buildings were set alight by angry and disgruntled soldiers. Eventually, the number of fires grew. Fortunately, most of the buildings in the capital were built of stone, so the fires didn't spread too wide. During midnight, many troops who made off with quite some spoils decided to hold a grill fest to rest. Some even flashed their spoils to their comrades.

It was then when news got out that even more treasure was kept within the palace, all of them small, pocketable treasures that were valuable enough for the troops to live a life of luxury once they brought them home. The troops made for the palace on their own accord, and now, the corpses lining the streets were obstacles to their path. They dragged them to the side of the road as they advanced. Gunshots could already be heard near the palace, but that didn't stop the mob from heading there.

Between the western sector and the palace was a wide plaza, the famed Nasrian Royal Plaza of Polyvisia. The Nasrian royal family would always host a grand ceremony each year. The promotional ceremonies and troop surveys would also be held there. Blackstone Path could let four carriages travel through it consecutively and it was connected to the plaza. There were also many beautiful gardens in the area.

The defending troops of Thundercrash and Monolith lined the walls heavily. The pathetic attackers were still driven mad by gold and tried to attack the palace, only to lose their precious life amidst the gunfire.

"We need mortars and cannons to take the walls of the palace!" yelled the first reinforcements who arrived, but nobody bothered to carry those heavy equipment over. They were all afraid of missing out on the attack.

The 100 plus thousand men slowly crowded the plaza up, yelling their unit or officer names to regroup with their fellow comrades. Even more of them gathered right in the centre of the plaza. As it was about three hundred metres separated from the palace walls, there was no worry that they would be fired on.

"This must be what you mean by 'birds die for the catch, humans die for the cash', right?" Eiblont said with a sly smile as he looked at the crowd.

Claude nodded. He turned to Birkin and said, "You can give the order to fire. I believe they will be shocked to find out we have 400 cannons hidden away. Eilon, go to the southern wall and instruct the cannoneers to bombard the western wall. Seal it off and make sure nobody gets to leave."

Claude had said that as long as he had enough ammunition, he didn't care how many enemies he had. But ever since the Union came, he didn't reveal the 400 cannons and ammunition Monolith 2nd Folk brought with them, choosing to hide them in their storehouses, fearing that the enemy wouldn't attack the city once they knew. So, they only saw around 200 units in battle. After Thundercrash retreated to the capital, there were only a hundred plus left, and they made it seem like they didn't have enough ammunition.

Now, most of the enemies were gathered in one place and were hard pressed to escape. They were so blinded by riches that they left their heavy gear and weapons outside the city. Claude could finally start his massacre with his own big guns.

Chapter 516 - Clash in Polyvisia (4)

Bang! Bang!

Two Shiksan soldiers fell and twitched for the last time. Several moments later, three Thundercrash soldiers carefully peeked over their battered cover to check for danger before going to the corpses. One master-sergeant searched the corpses and took a cloth sack from one. Inside were a few pieces of gold and silver.

"Another fool who wanted to run with nothing but scraps," the soldier complained, "Don't they know there's nowhere to go? They might as well surrender."

The attack the night before had blasted the 100 thousand soldiers gathered in the Nasrian Royal Plaza to shreds. Monolith and Thundercrash held the upper hand from thereon. The half-hour-long bombardment covered the whole plaza, and easily 50 to 60 thousand Union troops were either killed or maimed. Only a minority of them managed to escape.

The third Nasrian prince, Daklid, who was about to become the new king, was blasted into the skies by a round that had landed near him. Had it not been for his grand, general attire, the battlefield cleaners wouldn't have recognised the maimed corpse missing half a head and shoulder to be the prince. To identify the half-corpse, a clan of surrendered Nasrian captives were brought to see it. Only then did they get confirmation of the prince's tragic demise.

It took nearly half a month to clean up the whole plaza, mainly due to the sheer amount of puking by victor and loser alike. It was far too horrifying, the sight of blood and flesh, the squelch of each step with the occasional snap or crumble... It was truly a nightmarish hellscape.

The only fortunate thing was that it was the end of the 11th month, when the weather was really cold. The corpses didn't rot fast, but that caused the blood and meat to form together stiffly in a ghastly form which the cleaners had to deal with. Victor or loser, cleaning the battlefield became a punishment for transgressions. Those who came back would make sure to be on their best behaviour.

Eiblont tried to play tough and went on one such assignment, only to not be able to eat for three straight days when he got back. He maintained a vegetarian diet for half a year after that from the sheer disgust at seeing food that vaguely looked as if it used to be alive.

Prince Daklid wasn't the only unfortunate one. Marquis Archiberger Way Chalx of the Canasian corps that rushed in later was also blasted away by a falling shell. His injuries were even worse, but he managed to be rescued by his loyal subordinates. In the following eight days, he was carefully hidden in the western sector as they prepared to break out of the capital.

But with the whole western sector sealed, Thundercrash and Monolith launched an attack at dawn the next day to clear out the remaining Union troops within. Near 100 thousand Shiksans, Nasrians and Canasians fluttered around like leaderless flies without the ability to put up the least bit of resistance. Under savage cannon fire, even the fortifications set up by officers and their men were mercilessly crushed. The remnants of the soldiers either scattered or discarded their weapons for a surrender. If they weren't physically broken, they were surely mentally damaged.

Archiberger was unlucky because his subordinates were far too loyal. Had they surrendered faster, the marquis would have been treated well, but they'd instead fought to the bitter end.

Archiberger's men made two charges at the gates without success. They merely drew Thundercrash's attention, which sent a clan after them. They had to leg it, bringing the injured marquis all around with them. By the eighth day, they were caught up to. Thundercrash's soldiers unrolled the carpet they wrapped the marquis in, only to find that he had long passed away from blood loss.

On the 7th of the 11th month of Year 600, the Union's army sent five Shiksan corps, one Canasian light-cavalry corps and two Nasrian corps, all 500 thousand men, into Polyvisia. Additionally, there were quite a large number of private noble and garrison troops from Nasri that joined the fray, including remnants of units crushed by Thundercrash, making up another 50 or so thousand of them.

After three days of rest, the Union's commander, Pillag, assigned the defence of the outside of the city to those private nobles and garrison forces. He gave the order to the enforcers of the Shiksan corps to kill anyone that dared to turn away from the battle.

The three days of probing attacks caused the ragtag band to complain about their serious orders. Nobody dared boast about their loyalty before the Lord Militant any longer. Anyone that dared pipe on about their patriotism towards their nation would immediately be sent into battle and die for their nation. If they dared ignore orders and desert, they would be shot dead and made an example of.

The 50 or so thousand scraps suffered over 30 thousand losses in the span of three days. The enforcers watching them from the back also lost around a thousand. All the sacrifice got Pillag was the knowledge of Thundercrash's might. After that, he immediately committed all five Shiksan corps into the attack on Polyvisia. After two days, they managed to heavily wound Thundercrash, forcing them to abandon the walls into the city itself.

Then, Pillag intentionally let his men rest for five days in hopes that Thundercrash and Monolith would take the initiative to leave. He didn't want to fight to the bitter end with those two corps. While the Union held numerical superiority, their might was far from comparison to the enemy's. The two-day siege had cost them 70 thousand men. They'd lost an entire corps.

As long as Thundercrash and Monolith didn't retreat, the Union would continue to bleed.

Pillag went over this in his head multiple times and eventually settled on the decision to commit all his forces on the first day to take the city in one fell swoop. He only had the Canasians come along as reserves to prevent the enemy's desperate counterattack from disrupting his rhythm. He also gave the order for all deserters to be shot!

Fortunately, the Union's forces managed to take the western wall with their superior numbers. The enemy had to retreat further in, as was apparent from their later struggles. The enemy wanted to take the wall back from the northern and southern walls, but the brave soldiers of the Union managed to keep them at bay with their brave sacrifices.

Even without a casualty report, Pillag was aware of the degree of casualties they had suffered up till now. The two Nasrian corps he ordered to serve the role of cannon fodder immediately retreated to their camp after the city was breached. However, only a corps and slightly more returned from the battle. They had lost nearly half their number, and Prince Daklid wasn't pleased. However, Shiks also suffered just as many casualties, no less than one corps, at least, so the prince sucked it up even though he didn't like it. All he did was excuse himself from further battles due to the casualties they suffered.

Only after the three remaining Shiksan corps occupied the western wall and entered the western sector did they discover the enemy still stubbornly resisting. Pillag felt it was rather peculiar. He couldn't figure out why the Auerans had yet to retreat. Such behaviour usually didn't happen after the walls were conquered.

He was well aware through his scouts, casualty estimates and reports from Nasrian spies that the enemy had less than a corps of fighting men left. Since Thundercrash clashed with the Union in Durmel, they lost so many that they only had a folk left. The folk of reinforcements from Monolith and the casualties they suffered during the siege put the remaining fighters around only 40 thousand.

With the wall now breached, around 160 thousand Shiksan troops entered the city. They were around five times the enemy's number and resistance was completely futile. Though feeling uneasy about the fishy situation, Pillag was confident his men would eventually give him a detailed report of their victory.

However, he had placed his attention all on the new rifles and cannons of the enemy, completely ignoring the not-eye-catching helmets of the enemy. He had wondered why they would wear something so heavy on their heads, but soon, his informants told him the true reason they carried those things around.

The Nasrian informants said that Thundercrash's troops could remove their helmets to boil water and prepare their dried rations during break time, making a pot of hot meat porridge quickly and easily. Pillag immediately gained an epiphany: since Thundercrash were in enemy territory, when they could have their next meal would always be a question they had to worry about. However, it would be hard to maintain the troops' morale with only dried rations.

For the troops' health and morale, they were given metal helmets with which they could use to make hot food almost anywhere. That would decrease the rate of sickness among the troops. Each helmet could cook enough for one person and was easily washed. As long as there was a freshwater source, the troops could boil it with their helmets for some warm water or cook with them.

Thus, the real use of the helmets completely flew over Pillag's head. He didn't factor them in his estimations of the enemy's casualties, opting to multiply the normal casualty rate by three since the Shiksan corps had three times the enemy's number. So, he came to the conclusion that there were less than 40 thousand enemy troops in the city.

In fact, Claude had around 70 thousand troops, almost double of Pillag's estimations. He had the logistics and administrative officers take part in the battle to confuse the enemy and make them take the bait. The officers learned many of the same skills the troops in those two corps had to. Claude believed that soldiers were soldiers and true divisions between martial and administrative troops shouldn't exist so that they could all be deployed in crucial times.

When Pillag realised that the enemy didn't retreat because of the treasures in the capital, he immediately downgraded his opinion of the enemy a few ranks. He thought that they were only powerful because of their advanced weapons and pathetic when it came to tactics, seeing how greedy and short sighted they were in not being willing to prioritise a retreat.

Later, the Canasian corps entered the city to 'attack' the enemy whilst fighting the other troops for their fair share of the treasures. That spurred Prince Daklid to do the same with his men. Pillag even sent a few ordermen into the city in hopes that the Canasian marquis and the Nasrian prince could lead the attack.

However, the ordermen he sent never returned. Only the last one lucked out and managed to return after an hour or so of running. He reported that it was too chaotic inside the city and he couldn't locate either of them as a result. Nobody he asked knew their whereabouts, many saying that they couldn't even locate their own superior officers. Some officers, on the other hand, had completely lost their subordinates.

The enemies in the city were still resisting, but the sound of gunshots was getting quieter and less frequent as time passed. Both sides of the roads were lined with corpses and injured, but it was hard to tell whose side they were on given the darkening sky. The Union's army gradually gained more and more control over the areas and many troops dashed for wherever guns were fired.

After listening to the orderman's report, Pillag finally felt relieved, thinking that the results of the battle were set in stone. The prince's corps and the Canasian corps just entered the city, near 300 thousand of them, so there was no way the enemy could fight their way out of that.

Loud explosions suddenly rang out in Polyvisia during the darkest moment before day broke. From the distance, the city seemed like an erupting volcano, with smoke, soot, flashes, explosions, thunderous booms and embers flowing out of the western wall. It was as if they could hear the cries of agony brought by the wind all the way from the Union's camp.

Pillag charged out of his tent and looked at the city with his telescope. He didn't take note of the cold in the slightest, despite his light clothing and heavy shivering. Even as his adjutant tried to put a windbreaker around him, he pushed him aside.

The rumbling went on for a good half hour before calming down. Pillag was completely dumbfounded. When his adjutant came up to him again, he found the man's face to be completely pale. Sweat formed on his forehead as he repeated the phrase 'we fell for it' nonstop.

The Lord Militant only snapped out of it a good moment later. He ordered his attendants to check if the Union's troops still held the western wall.

Within ten minutes, one of the attendants returned to inform him of the enemy's reclamation of the wall. His comrade didn't believe the Lord Militant's inference, so he didn't even care about subtlety in the slightest as he loudly chatted when they approached the city. Then, a gunshot rang from the wall before he collapsed onto his mount the next moment.

Pillag was completely speechless with his expression grave. He waved his attendant away. A moment later, he had his adjutant pass on the order for all Shiksan troops in the Union's camp to pack up and leave when day breaks.

The only ones left in the camp were Pillag's direct-command line from the royal guard. Most of them were citizens from his fief. The logistics troops, guards and healers belonging to the five Shiksan corps were there as well, making their total number around 60 thousand.

The adjutant was shocked to hear that order and quickly asked the Lord Militant the reason for his ridiculous order. Polyvisia was just about to fall, so how could they leave like that? There were many troops of the Union in the city. Even if the western wall was retaken, they could just take it back.

Pillag grimaced and said that if they didn't leave within two days, they would never be able to leave for good. By the time their own comrades in the city were dealt with, it would be their turn. If they were to leave, they had to do it fast. Even if they did, the enemy might still be able to catch up.

So, he summoned the commanders in his line and instructed them to take all the grassland horses left behind by the Canasians. All those who didn't know how to ride ought to let the horses pull carriages to retreat with the rest.

By the time the troops in the city either surrendered or were wiped out, five days had passed since they first fell for the bait. Claude gave Eiblont two lines and sent him to hunt down the Union's troops outside the city.

But when Eiblont reached their camp, he found that there was not a single Shiksan there. There were only Nasrian and Canasian injured and their logistics staff. After asking those captives, he was told that Commander-in-chief Pillag Xi Feriot had retreated with all Shiksan troops four days ago alongside Nasrians and Canasians willing to follow him. They were said to be heading for Shiks.

They even forcefully robbed the Canasian corps of 80 thousand of their horses as well as many of their coachmen, not to mention all the carriages in camp.

Eiblont immediately gave chase, but gave up three days later. He had been travelling nonstop during the whole time, but it was no longer possible to stop the Shiksans at the Nasrian border at that rate.

Chapter 517 - Good News and Lies

The Union Army had 550 thousand men when they arrived in Polyvisia. After the battle, they were left with the 80 thousand that had escaped with Pillag. The rest were now either dead or captured.

The city itself was covered in 180 thousand corpses. Only about two-thirds of those bodies were moderately intact, however. About 60 thousand, as the estimate went, were scattered bits and pieces of the poor souls who'd been in the royal plaza during the bombardment. The captured, both injured and surrendered, counted up to just 130 thousand. Though not unheard of, this was one of those rare battles where the dead outnumbered the other losses such as injured, captured, and deserted.

The attackers had outnumbered the defenders more than four against one and had still been defeated even after taking the city's outer walls, and defeated with such horrific losses. No other comparable loss was recorded in any history book about Faslan's long and storied history. Claude would come to be highly praised by many a historian for his stellar performance during the battle. Of especial praise would be his use of treasure to distract and blind the enemy with greed. He'd lured them into his trap so perfectly they didn't suspect a thing until they walked into the afterlife.

The Union's only saving grace was Pillag's swift retreat in the immediate aftermath. He'd had the presence of mind to take with him all their supplies and, most importantly, all the Canasian horses left in their camp before the attack. Thanks to his swift thinking, the enemy had been deprived of further plunder the Union could not afford to relinquish.

All the remaining troops surrendered almost at the same time Pillag withdrew. Claude's men found about 100 thousand Nasrian and Canasian injured in the camp. Their victory was thus instead a burden adder because they now had a mass of temporary invalids to feed, clothe, house, and guard.

At least Pillag had thought of the injured he was forced to leave behind and didn't set fire to the
food stores he couldn't take with him.

Eiblont set out after Pillag's force as soon as their base had been occupied, but could not catch up and was forced to turn back empty-handed. Claude sent him off on another mission as soon as he returned. He was to take Thundercrash's 2nd, 3rd, and 7th lines and any scattered remains of shattered units and form a new temporary folk. He was to march this new band of men to Beaumarisburg and take it.

Monolith's 2nd Folk had just sixteen thousand men left and Thundercrash just 6 thousand. The just-over-20-thousand men had to watch over 200 thousand captives and care for the wounded, an almost impossible task. Fortunately, the captives were broken. The sight of their mutilated and scattered dead had destroyed their fighting spirits. They had no will left to resist even if they could literally bury their captures in corpses and still have ample men to spare. Few even bothered running away when those able were ordered to clean the city and surrounding plains of their dead comrades.

Claude's hope with the immediate deployment of the temporary folk was to catch Canas' duke off guard. Every uncaptured Union soldier had left with Pillag, which left him in a very vulnerable position. They would no doubt send a messenger to the duke as soon as they realised they were no longer being chased. He couldn't afford to let the duke escape again. Aueras could even less afford loose strings from this war. One temporary folk was enough to erase Canas from the map. Duke Canas had supplied just three light-cavalry corps to the Union's army. Had it not been for Shiksan support, he wouldn't have been able to raise even that much. Currently, only one guard folk and a haphazard garrison were left defending Beaumarisburg and they couldn't hold against even a temporary folk.

While it would spread Polyvisia's defences thin, most of those injured a few months earlier had recovered and been discharged from the field hospital. They were just enough for two peacekeeping lines. Bolonik also sent a line from Thundercrash's 3rd Folk. They would arrive in six more days.

The Union laid siege to Polyvisia from the 7th to the 29th of the 11th month, after which Monolith and Thundercrash reclaimed the western sector. It ended when the last of the Shiksan deserters were found. Nasri was done for good and would never appear on another map of the region ever again. Aueras had finally conquered its centuries-long rival.

Official news of the victory made it to the capital on the 5th of the 12th month but the signaller who received the message didn't believe it. He could not believe the severely undermanned colonial forces had defeated a force four times their size, so he left the message in his drawer. It took another fortnight before news made its way down the grapevine to the merchants. They blathered about it to anyone and everyone who'd listen, and many were more than willing to.

The stories eventually reached Fredrey I's ears when he noticed the merchants scrambling to set out for the kingdom's new territory. He immediately interrogated his ministers.

His ministers had, of course, not heard anything through official channels, so they told him it was just a fool's rumour, perhaps even a ploy by the autonomous region to embarrass them or otherwise increase their influence with the court.

The ministers were just busy unrolling a map of the region to begin a thorough debunking when the prime minister, Marquis Blancarte, charged into the council chambers, excitedly waving a letter above his head.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Nasri is conquered! Long live Thundercrash and Monolith!"

The king and the rest of his council gaped.

Fredrey I recomposed himself with considerable effort, however, and spoke.

"Blancarte, what on earth are you celebrating?"

"Nasri's conquest, Your Majesty. I just confirmed it. The Union was completely crushed at Polyvisia. They lost over 400 thousand men. Duke Pillag Xi Feriot only barely managed to escape and ran back to the Union with his tail between his legs and just 80 thousand soldiers. The forces in Polyvisia immediately marched a contingent to the remaining stronghold and took the duke. Nasri is officially done for!"

Blancarte stared at the room once he finished speaking, finally noticing the king had company.

"What are you doing here? You should be the first to hear of this! And why are you looking at me like that? Didn't you get the message from our forces in the region yet?"

"Lord Prime Minister, where did you get that letter?" one officer asked after clearing his throat.

Blancarte handed him the letter.

"Read for yourself. General Bolonik sent it. Wrote it himself, even. He says he sent a report a fortnight ago. I couldn't believe I'd not heard about this yet when I read the letter so I came rushing over. I find it really strange the merchants learnt of this before I did. I sent a missive to him by eagle and he confirmed it to me personally."

Indeed, their missives confirmed the rumours. Bolonik had not described the battle in his letters, however, saying that was all in the report he'd sent a fortnight earlier. He gave just the crucial details, specifically, he wrote that Thundercrash and Monolith, under Claude, Birkin, and Eiblont's leadership, had defeated the Union and taken over 400 thousand captives, and had finally fully conquered Nasri.

And so, Fredrey I, Blancarte and the rest of the ministry of the army dug through the pile of trash documents for half an hour before finally finding the discarded report. The report detailed the trap set in the city, the casualties, and the actions taken after the battle to finally rid them of Nasri.

The casualty report made special mention of well-known officers and generals who'd fallen during the battle, and contained a comprehensive inventory of the spoils taken from the enemy's base. It only mentioned treasure worth two million crowns taken from the Nasrian treasury. It failed to discuss the wealth looted from the city itself and the royal family's treasury.

Bolonik had also included Claude's request for immediate relief. Claude couldn't hold onto their gains with the men he had left. They were exhausted and had over 400 thousand captives to guard, an impossible task for the men he had left. He also slyly included mention that it would not be appropriate for a Nubissian force to be administering parts of the mainland, even if only temporarily under wartime conditions.

The ministry's officials were beet red by the time they finished the report -- as if they'd been physically slapped across the face. Just an hour earlier they'd been confidently educating the king on the baselessness and impossibility of the rumours. It would have been at least a month more before they'd have learnt the truth if not for the prime minister's initiative in confirming things with Bolonik.

The gaze Fredrey I shot them was already filled with suspicion. Had it taken them a month to realise the truth of things, they'd have been utterly ruined. That said, this was not much better. The king now doubted them, if only by the tiniest amount, and that doubt could only grow as time passed. Since the start of the debt war, their predictions and analyses had gotten almost everything wrong. They'd even distrusted their victory.

They immediately went looking for a scapegoat, but the signaller who'd tossed the report was unrepentant. He insisted he'd done nothing wrong. He'd assumed the report must be a false one since he'd heard nothing but bad things about the units in question from his superiors.

The ministry had indeed done much to discredit the region's forces. They'd run countless sandtable simulations in support of their low estimation of their forces. They all showed the two corps would lose the fight and be forced to retreat. Reddragon and Griffon would have to hold the frontlines while they licked their wounds and the kingdom would be forced to negotiate another peace deal.

Their constant propaganda had so poisoned the opinions of their subordinates that even the truth had been disregarded as false boasting.

Fredrey I couldn't believe his ears.

"Do you have no opinions of your own?" the king asked the signaller, "Soldiers should think for themselves. What use is a mindless animal on the battlefield? Surely no military unit would forge such a blatantly unbelievable report if they were making things up. Wouldn't they want to make it as believable as possible? Were you taught no common sense in school or college?"

The major's frank reply startled the king.

"I never attended college, Your Majesty. I am from House Adlersino. I was forced into the army by my father. He said I'd learn all I needed to know from my superiors, so there was no point in sending me to college. My current position was prepared for me before I joined."

House Adlersino was one of the old nobility. They ran the Telenas Fabrication Complex, one of the kingdom's four main complexes.

Fredrey I's expression darkened at the man's words. What a joke! How could a completely uneducated man become a major? He didn't even know the most basic of army regulations and protocols. No wonder he'd done something so stupid. No wonder he'd not heard a single good prediction from the ministry in the entire war.

"Your Majesty," one of the ministers quickly jumped in, "while Major Adlersino isn't a college graduate, he was a stellar literature student in Cleffrey Academy. Signaller posts require good writing and reading ability, but little else. He has an exemplary disciplinary record."

"Why was he made a major, then? Aren't even the most senior of signallers supposed to be just captains?"

The king left the council chambers with those words and a cold glare.

Blancarte couldn't say anything, so he just sighed and ran after the king.

An eagle message reached Polyvisia on the 28th of the 12th month. It appointed Claude the temporary governor of what had once been the Kingdom of Nasri. He was put in charge of all administrative matters. The royal court held a session of the council on the 15th of the 1st month to discuss a permanent replacement. Following the meeting, they announced the merits and rewards Claude and his men were to receive in recognition of their efforts and successes.

Eiblont's letter made it to Claude first, however. They'd force-marched for 17 days, but had not caught the Duke of Canas. He'd already left with all his wealth when they arrived. He'd also taken his family and all his loyal subjects with him. Eiblont believed they'd made for asylum in Shiks.

At the very least, however, Canas had fallen into their hands as well.

Chapter 518 - Appointment and Delegation

The extermination of Canas and Nasri sent ripples across the continent. It meant Aueras had nominally united Eastern Freia and become a superpower yet again. Military historians would come to call it the Second Great War of Eastern Freia.

It couldn't be denied that the two corps from the autonomous region had been key in turning the tide. Their new rifles and cannons also became even more famous, came under even greater scrutiny, and became even bigger targets for any and every espionage endeavour.

Losing weapons on the battlefield or breaking them was unavoidable. Many broken rifles were sold to spies from various nations at ridiculous prices. It was not too hard to reverse engineer them and create workable, if somewhat inferior, homebrew versions.

The Kingdom of Lesnia in Southern Freia, for instance, soon declared they had their own rifles now. They had made a crude bolt-action rifle. It looked suspiciously similar to the Sonia 591 and was quickly nicknamed the oneshot.

Whilst Lesnia had reverse engineered the rifle, they had yet to do the same with the ammunition, so the rifle was of little use to them. Some rounds had found their way into many nations' hands, but their production processes remained a complete secret. They could make alternatives to the flash powder in the firing cap, but those were all prohibitively expensive, making large-scale adoption of the rifles impractical.

Just giving every Lesnian soldier fifty rounds would bankrupt the kingdom. Then there was also the matter of the massive expense to manufacturing the rifles. Each rifle cost seven times the price of a musket.

Aueras' researchers made their own knockoff they called the Tygston Type-600 but they ran into the same problems. They, however, could ask the region directly to supply them with ammunition. So they told Bolonik to negotiate with Claude and hash out a trade deal.

Claude offered to supply them with the ammunition they wanted at one riyas a round. The ten million the kingdom wanted would thus burn a 200-thousand-crown-size hole in its treasury. The same number of musket rounds would have cost just twelve thousand thales. The kingdom tried to renegotiate, but Claude would have none of it.

The first general assembly of the court in Year 601 saw another controversy when Claude was appointed the interim governor of the former territory of Nasri. The ministers didn't want to affirm the appointment.

Everyone had a different excuse; some cited illness from old age, whilst others were mysteriously injured. Regardless of the reason, however, not a single minister showed up at the meeting. Some newspapers even had betting rolls going on whether the king would be able to get enough officials together to set up a government for the new territory at all. The capital's inhabitants were in for quite the circus.

There were no fools amongst the ministers. If an administrative post opened up within the kingdom's prefectures, there would be tons of people scrambling for it, but Nasri was different. Work there was bound to be troublesome and unrewarding. It might even cost them their lives. Taking up such positions was akin to standing on a barrel of gunpowder. Old Earth would have called it a 'ticking time bomb'.

Anyone with a sound mind knew going to Nasri now was risking their lives. Nasri had been Aueras' archnemesis for centuries. They'd fought five bloody wars and both nations' peoples hated one another with a bloodthirsty passion, one which fed on defeat.

Additionally, the posts were administrative, not military. There were no guards or protection. With Nasri newly annexed, one couldn't just go there with one's family. As a local official, one had to hire bodyguards out of one's own pocket. Exposing oneself to the locals was asking to be assassinated.

Lastly and most crucially, it wouldn't pay well. Given the current state of the territory, it was all risk and no reward. It was no surprise nobody was willing to go. While Aueras and Nasri were both in Eastern Freia, they were in very different situations. Aueras had phased out feudal rule in favour of a bicameral parliament under the king.

The Council of Lords, or simply the high council, executed policies scrutinised and decided upon by the Council of Dignity, creating a fine balance of power. As the king held command over the army, military affairs were separate from civil affairs, the latter of which was under the prime minister's care. He kept the high council in check and was the most important person in the kingdom during peacetime. There were the rare exceptions, such as Stellin XI's rule, but those were generally exceptions for the worse rather than for the better.

Nasri was the exact opposite. Individual noble houses ruled over their own fiefs with absolute sovereignty save the duties of tax and levy to their sworn lords. The kingdom was held together by the willpower of the king and the ingrained sense of honour in the personal vows of allegiance held by the nobles alone. This difference was also what had united Nasri, Shiks, and Canas against Aueras. They hated, feared, and loathed the kingdom for its anathema to their way of ruling.

In all of Nasri, apart from the royal family's subjects, most of the rest of the common folk were serfs, slaves in all but name. A few freemen made their home in the kingdom, mostly as rich merchants, but everyone else belonged to their lords the same way the land on which they lived did, and they lived in abject poverty as a result.

Thundercrash had swept the entire kingdom clean but had gone after the nobles and richest of the merchants only.

The better-connected Aueran court members naturally knew about Thundercrash's profit. Rumours had it that they had nabbed at least 30 million crowns' worth of goods. However, jealousy was no use as the spoils were well deserved. The court had the right to demand part of what was found in the national treasury, but treasures and money scoured from private residences, noble or otherwise, was beyond their reach.

The nonstop wars, however, had drained both the Aueran and Nasrian treasuries. Aueras could only shake off eight million crowns of debt with all their spoils from Nasri. While Fredrey I had decided to default on the loans when he triggered the war, he had not expected them to join the war because of it. The debt was gone now thanks to the debtor's fall.

With the fattest sheep, the Nasrian nobles, slaughtered and butchered, only the serfs and freemen remained. They weren't worth much and might even have to be fed out of the Auerans' pocket. So, most balked at the prospect of serving in the territory, being superficial and pragmatic as they were.

Usually, the best way to administer annexed territory was martial law for three to five years while the last of insurgents were cleared out. Only when the chaos settled could the populace get used to living under different rule. Eventually, steps would be taken to integrate the local population for the transformation of annexed territory into a proper prefecture to be complete.

But martial law proved rather difficult for Aueras as it was now. They didn't have the funding to field an army there. Had it not been for the region's generous contributions, they would've caved long ago.

Even just recently, they had to rely on the region to exterminate Nasri and Canas, being powerless to do so themselves. The kingdom was so slow in sending troops to the reclaimed territory of Sidins, Askilin and Rimodra due to their lack of funding. Sending officials there seemed even further out of the question. It was almost certain that officials sent there would face grave danger.

Not to mention, martial law required troops to enforce. The kingdom only had three of them remaining, namely, the royal guard, Reddragon and Griffon. While those were the forces of the old nobility, they were split into three factions as well and held in a different light by the ministry of the army. The royal guard was like their biological son, whereas Reddragon and Griffon were disobedient bastards who needed to be punished and disciplined.

While the old nobility held the same stance towards outsiders, they had many internal conflicts. The royal guard was credited with helping Fredrey I to the throne and was so proud it didn't take the other two corps seriously. Reddragon and Griffon, on the other hand, had their own ambitions, given how neglected they were, and was at the point they ignored almost all orders from the ministry. Only by giving funding would the ministry hold any sway over them once more.

With there being not enough money to form new corps and being unable to send the royal guard out, and Griffon and Reddragon not willing to act without money, there was nothing that could be done. There was also the worry that sending the two corps there would allow them to act like they owned the place. That would make it even worse for the court at the negotiating table.

As such, Fredrey I and Blancarte were in a tight spot. They couldn't enact martial law, and local officials didn't want to be transferred over, thinking it was an assignment that would result in their deaths. Having no other choice, they wrote to Claude and Bolonik to have the autonomous region temporarily administer the conquered areas while the court sorted themselves out.

Claude burst out laughing when he read it. He didn't think the mighty kingdom would be that broke. Then again, it was a good thing now that Thundercrash and Monolith had a place to fall back to away from the kingdom's influence. Given their contributions, there was no need to worry about their standing at all. It was almost natural to let the two corps administer the new territories.

In fact, the region directly ruled by the Nasrian royal family was easier to deal with. Levying only 30 percent in taxes was enough to please most of the citizens, as it was almost half of what they were taxed before, not to mention the compulsory month-long labour they had to partake in. With the labour requirement abolished and their taxes falling more than twenty percent, the citizens who only cared about their families were feeling rather thankful.

However, the lands of the nobles were much harder to handle. The peasants there were basically quasi slaves who couldn't afford to sustain themselves without their lords. They didn't have the tools, land, or seeds to plant. The two wars that ravaged the continent also saw many youths sent to the battlefield, leaving the elderly, women and children unable to feed their families.

With their lords gone, their livelihoods were no longer guaranteed. So, letting the region rule them was no different than putting a huge burden on them. The best way to deal with the matter was to give them tools and crops to plant so they could sustain themselves.

However, Claude didn't do so, as he had no right to give the land away to the peasants. Without nobles, the conquered land was basically property of the Aueran royal family. Without the king's permission, it couldn't be given away. So, Claude sent his men to go find locals to delegate administrative and tax-collection jobs to.

Blancarte, however, wrote Bolonik a personal letter, revealing his and Claude's rewards. The both of them would be promoted to Lord Militants and Claude would be given the hereditary Title of duke, whereas Bolonik was made a hereditary count. Birkin and Eiblont were also promoted one rank and given hereditary baron Titles.

Unlike the delightfully surprised Bolonik, Claude wasn't the least bit excited. It was all within expectations. The king had no money in his pockets, so all he could do was use literally priceless honour as a reward for their contributions. While he promised the troops of Thundercrash and Monolith rewards, they were being held back at the ministry of the army as credit, given the emptied coffers. They would only be paid out once the kingdom started getting rich once more.

The announcement made no difference at all. Claude's ducal Title was nothing more than a fancy tag his descendants could attach to their names. While Claude could receive a decent annuity from the royal family, his descendants would have to pay a yearly tribute to maintain that Title or risk being downgraded to marquis, count and beyond, though the fee wasn't that high, to begin with.

It wouldn't be wrong to describe it as the royal family doing business with their noble subordinates. If the nobles did well, they would be given Titles and annuity, but their descendants would pay the price to maintain it. It was no different from a loan which the descendants had to pay back. If hereditary Titles could be maintained for three generations, the annuity given by the royal family would break even and it was then when profit started to roll in.

Chapter 519 - Captives and Expansion

Claude did not expect so many troubles. He thought the conquest of Canas and Nasri would bring a swift end to the war, and that the kingdom would quickly start on the road to recovery. He was hoping to set off for home as soon as their awards were given.

But now, he was the interim governor. Now, he couldn't leave. He had to sit around in a damned office, and read and write reports and sign documents all day. It was torture. If he'd known they'd saddle him with cleaning up the mess he made, he'd not have bothered conquering Nasri.

Fredrey I had set things up so he, Birkin, Eiblont, and their men were working for him for free. They were originally only supposed to be on the continent until the war ended, but now they were being kept on to deal with what should be the mainland's problem.

Claude and his two minions had been turned into free administrators, and their men were now free police. They technically had no authority to police the territory, but they had little choice if they wanted to keep control of it until they were relieved. They were collecting taxes and governing in the royal family's stead but were not being paid for it.

In fact, Claude suspected the council's aim was to use them to control the populace while they taxed them dry to get their treasury back in the green. It was more than likely that the supposed 'lack of officials willing to take up the positions' was just an excuse to keep him there and exploit his and his men's labour. Luckily Claude had settled most of the matters of immediate concern in just two months and he handed the Canasian territory over to Eiblont. They just had to do some regular patrolling, uprising suppression, and continue to collect taxes.

Bolonik arrived in Polyvisia after the rainy season ended -- sometime in the 3rd month. He had stayed in Eimis for half a year to organise the relocation of the hundreds of thousands of captives they'd caught over the campaign. The captives and their families were being resettled in the Loki Mountains to work in the mines.

Claude immediately moved to dump everything even remotely related to administration on the poor bastard. Bolonik would have none of it, however. He said he was only there to pick up another 200 thousand captives to be taken back to the region.

The region's council had taken note of all the captives Claude had captured and were eager to get their hands on them to shore up the region's labour force. Henderman had been particularly eager, so much so he'd even given a public statement to the effect that the captives were essential to the further development of the region.

Aduras was also eager to get their hands on some captives, ideally, they wanted a hundred thousand. The tobacco industry was still exploding and they needed every pair of hands they could get.

Aueras didn't technically have slavery. They had forced labour, but the captives did receive a stipend which they were paid upon their release. The prison labourers' wardens -- in this case Claude and the two corps -- were entitled to a fee for the use of 'their' captives, which was what Bolonik had come to negotiate.

Claude grimaced at the war's unpleasant aftertaste. He felt like a slaver, like he'd not just fought a war to save his kingdom, but had gone on a pillaging campaign for slaves and plunder.

It reminded him of a letter he'd gotten from Myjack not long ago. The man had said the first prince's former troops he'd taken over had been begging him for months to let them migrate to Nubissia. They couldn't rest easy with the spectre of royal vengeance for their support of the first prince during the civil war hanging over their heads.

Myjack had also suggested they use those men to replace some of the losses Thundercrash had suffered during the campaign. Myjack had 80 thousand men with him, 60 thousand of which had been rescued from captivity. The rest were deserters.

They'd fought a guerilla campaign against Shiks when they'd based their operations in Askilin. The biggest contingent had been led by Claude's former superior from his days back in the 1st Rangers, Lederfanc, whom he'd not met in a decade.

Myjack believed they were fruit ripe for the picking since their tree's roots had been cut out. They were especially positively predisposed towards Claude's side because they'd been the ones to recapture Askilin and liberate them. On top of that was the de facto neutral stance Claude had taken in the civil war, whereas the mainland Aueran elite had been the enemy, and likely still bore a deep grudge against them.

They had fought against the invaders, but the rulers still considered them traitors from back in the civil war. They knew how deeply and longly the old nobility held their grudges. They would come after them in every way they could once they got their hands on them. Fredrey I might have waxed forgiveness and reconciliation, but he was not the one under whose heel they had to live their daily lives.

They'd settled in to become farmers when they were not fighting their occupiers, but Myjack thought they could be far better used as proper soldiers again rather than wasting away on their farms. He had initially hoped to form local garrisons to relieve their troops, but he had only been able to cobble together enough volunteers for two lines. It wasn't that the men were fundamentally against serving again. They were deeply afraid of having to stay on once Claude's men withdrew and exposing themselves to persecution. There was also the little matter of envy. They deeply envied all the benefits Claude's men enjoyed.

All the incentives were aligned to make them want to switch allegiances.

Myjack also mentioned that his efforts in the three southern prefectures had also finally started bearing fruit. The first rifle-ammunition production line was complete. Workers were only picked from the families of Claude's men set to migrate to Nubissia. They currently produced 500 thousand rounds a month, though they were quickly running out of materials. They were in particularly bad lack of brass.

The conditions to produce ammunition for the new cannons, however, still weren't fulfilled. They still lacked most of the giant machines necessary to make the shells and casings. The reason for that was during Shiks' occupation, they moved many large machines back to their kingdom, causing the manufacturing standards there to fall greatly. There was no longer any way for them to produce large parts, like the shells used for the cannons' ammunition. That alone required three different large machines.

Claude didn't really want to expand Thundercrash, as three folks already put their numbers at 120 thousand, with each folk having around 35 thousand. A corps normally only had two folks, one direct line and four logistics tribes, numbering near 82 thousand people. However, an additional folk was added to the roster before the war, raising that total to 125 thousand people, which Claude found to be a little inflated.

Having more troops wasn't necessarily a good thing. For starters, they would greatly exceed their military budget, but that alone wasn't enough for the formation of a whole folk. Expanding meant that the number of support staff had to be increased as well. Back during the line-and-shoot era of warfare, it used to be that sheer numbers were enough to render troop casualties fairly negligible and allow their men to maintain combat ability.

It was said that wars in days past were focused only on gathering troops in wide, expansive areas for all sorts of battle formations. The commanders of both sides would command their men to shoot before entering a melee battle, resulting in huge casualties that saw a whole corps used up within half a day. Grand battles lasted three or four days and casualties in excess of 100 thousand were all too common. As such, numbers used to be king, and each corps usually had 60 thousand men.

The Union realised that they wouldn't be a match in such wide-open battles against Aueras during the five-year-long First Great Eastern Freian War, so they chose to fight with mainly defensive tactics to wear away at the attacking Aueran troops. In the end, the war dragged on until both sides were too worn to continue, following which a peace deal was signed.

In some sense, that war had fundamentally changed warfare over the past century on the continent. Even the smaller nations knew that they couldn't use brute force to fight any longer. Later during Aueras and Shiks' war on Nubissia, traditional norms of combat were completely broken down.

It all started with the Ranger folk using baiting and ambushing tactics to trick the enemy into giving them two unprecedented victories. Later, the five enhanced folks formed in the war theatre swept the floor with Shiks' four standing corps and even conquered Vebator, making it Aueras' eighth colony.

Those three wars opened the eyes of everyone on Freia for good. By the time Shiks leased a colony to send their troops to, the other nations had already begun to take note of those tactics. When the Aueran civil war was ongoing, the war theatre only had two corps while Shiks sent ten standing corps to fight. Nobody could tell which side would win.

In their first surprise attack against the main Shiksan base, Thundercrash managed to obtain a landslide victory. Shiks, despite losing 2.5 corps, could still fight. Later, the Shiksans paid them back by docking at a fishing town near Lanu and reduced the city to bits.

However, Thundercrash's quick turnaround helped the war theatre live through those troubled times. They also managed to get rid of those three Shiksan corps in the meantime. Thundercrash later surprise attacked the main camp of Shiks with Monolith, managing to eliminate the Shiksan force for good and obtaining ultimate victory.

Those conflicts brought the new rifles of the war theatre to the attention of the various nations. The rifles were far more advanced than existing muskets, but the secrecy maintained by the region prevented them from being leaked to the outside world.

Later during the turmoil on the Aueran mainland, the war theatre changed themselves into the autonomous region. Then, Shiks invaded the new Aueran territories with the excuse of helping Sidins and Rimodra restore their duchies. Then came the coup that sat Fredrey I on the throne and the formation of the Union proper by Shiks. Nasri went to war with Aueras over the debt they owed and the other nations in Eastern Freia also began to interfere with their invasion.

Then came the troops from the region that decimated the Union's forces, causing them to lose most of their 700 thousand troops and the fall of four nations. The new weapons and ironclad warships exhibited during that war completely awed the enemy with their might.

One folk of Thundercrash alone was able to fight off four corps, sending them into a fighting retreat. They also managed to lure the enemy forces to Polyvisia to clean them up in one go, setting their victory pretty much in stone.

Only then did Claude think that they could simply replace corps with folks as the largest operating unit. With enough elite soldiers, they wouldn't fear enemy troop numbers at all.

However, Bolonik wasn't of the same opinion. He told Claude a piece of insider news which Blancarte wrote to him about. Basically, the kingdom had no intention of sending people to take over the Nasrian, Canasian, Askilinian, Sidinsian and Rimodran regions in the next three years. Those were unproductive areas with low yield, after all, and the kingdom couldn't spare any funds to invest in them. As such, the region's two corps would be expected to remain there for around that time while the kingdom recovered to a point it could take over administration of those regions once more.

It was truly a piece of shocking news. The region's forces were basically being asked to rule in the court's place for up to three years without any announcement at all. Bolonik said that it was a reward for the troops of the region. Since they didn't have funds to reward them properly, they 'rewarded' the two corps with the right to administer those regions in the meantime.

Ruling the regions for three whole years would earn them exorbitant amounts of wealth. All taxation rights and trade profits would belong to the region alone, not to mention they could transfer the immigrants to the region freely within those three years while the court closed a blind eye to it. The folk in that region would be former citizens of enemy nations anyway, so the fewer of them there were, the better.

"Alright, then. We'll let Thundercrash expand for another folk. Also, use the first prince's men to fill out the casualties we suffered in the two corps. Let General Birkin make a trip to deal with this matter. Myjack will help him as his aide," Claude decided. Like Bolonik said, Thundercrash really needed to expand to be able to guard so many places.

"As for the captives you want, you can take all 100 thousand soldier captives and their families to Aduras. However, the remaining 100 plus thousand are the kingdom's captives, so we won't be bringing them back to the region. Instead, we'll let them repair roads here instead."

Chapter 520 - Disassembly and Diversion

"This is the largest fabricatory in Nasri, Camben Valley Royal Military Industries. We learnt the gear is the same as the ones we found in Balivia when we docked in Whitestag. They're not the latest models available on the continent. The court wants us to stop all production in the region. Who knows how many of them will still be operational by the time we're done?"

Claude took Bolonik to Camben Valley where the most famous Nasrian fabricatory was. It could produce light and medium cannons. The Nasrian royal family owned 69 percent of the establishment. Most of the weapons went to their armies. The other fabricatories in the kingdom were workshops by comparison. They could only make spare parts and daily necessity gear.

He'd known Claude for years, so he knew immediately why the man had brought him there.

"So? Are you going to take it apart?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Claude smiled.

"Well, you know nobody will look after these things after we leave. They'll just sit around and rust, especially the water-powered ones. We're getting a visit from a court ambassador next month, right? He's going to keep an eye on the court's portion of the spoils. He's also supposed to ensure their fixed assets are safely sealed. I intend to clean this place out and sell everything I can before this place is sealed."

Since the king was making them work for free, Claude had no reservations about cleaning out the place and making their work worthwhile. That was the biggest difference between him and Bolonik. Bolonik was a traditional soldier. He never doubted his superior's orders, just like the time he trusted Marquis Blancarte's revelation about how the kingdom was going to let the region's troops run the Nasrian region as their reward.

Claude didn't believe that drivel. No matter how nice Blancarte's private messages were, they were worth nothing. His words only had weight if it had the official seal on it. Bolonik had even argued with Claude over it. He was convinced the king and his court were sincere. As the kingdom was far too lacking in funds, the best move to make was to do nothing and stabilise the region first while they gathered more funds for the nation.

Nothing could be done without money. Even a kingdom was utterly paralysed if it didn't have funds. And Aueras was dead broke from the years of war. It was a sinking ship, swiss cheese would be an understatement. It could be saved, but that would take time. Until its holes were sealed, it could not afford to look after its new acquisitions, so it had no choice but to hand it over to the autonomous region's administration. They were not going to hand them over wholesale, but letting the autonomous region administer the new territories for three years would give them the breathing room they needed, and given their track record, the kingdom would get a well-developed, profitable region when they finally marched in and took over.

Bolonik was completely flabbergasted by Claude's next question. The new territories had double the surface area of the kingdom's heartland, but only about the same population. It was a gigantic market. Claude just had to sell Nubissia's products there to make a killing, but would the old nobility let them do so?

Bolonik didn't have an answer. The old nobility had supported Fredrey I's rise to power, so they were huge contributors and the king and court would no doubt think of ways to make up for their losses.

The noble houses surely owned some small workshop that produced daily necessities. Letting the region's two corps join the war on the mainland already ruffled the feathers of the nobles already and letting them trade without restriction would be no different than giving up on the nobles' exclusive right to set prices and control the market.

With the kingdom facing elimination before the Union's army, the nobles had no choice but to bow their heads. Now that the war was over with Aueras winning out in the end, the old nobility would definitely be thinking of ways to make up for their losses. Claude believed that letting Thundercrash and Monolith control the Nasrian region would cause quite a lot of turmoil.

Just because the kingdom didn't have funds didn't mean the nobles didn't either. Otherwise, Reddragon and Griffon wouldn't have been able to hold together with their salaries and supplies cut off for half a year. Troops were the only reliable source of power in a world as chaotic as this, and they belonged to the old nobility, who would rather sustain them with money out of their own pockets. Now, their investment would start to turn a profit once more.

Claude knew that he could be promised the world, but it was all worthless. He didn't have a right to the mines, he might as well prioritise sales while he could. While the equipment in Nasri wasn't the latest model, it would be worth at least two or three million crowns once it was disassembled and shipped to Nubissia. It could sustain the two corps for a year or two.

The region needed heavy industrial equipment most right now. It had enough to supply its army, but nowhere near enough to supply the civilian market. Other things aside, the construction of railroads and factories and the building of ironclad transport ships had caused demand to shoot through the roof. Skri wrote to Claude to ship as much equipment back as he could.

Since the court decided to seal off those factories, Claude would strip them clean. So what if the ambassador came? There was no way he could stop them from doing anything. The most Claude had to do was to pay a small price three years later to quell the outrage.

"We've registered the workers of the factory. Most of them are willing to emigrate to the region. There are around three thousand in total and around ten thousand family members.

"These are skilled immigrants. I've written to General Skri and Mister Weyblon for them to settle these new immigrants into fitting positions. The best will be hired by our military industry and the rest will be distributed to the railroad company and the shipyards."

Claude and Bolonik chatted as they walked through the complex. The guards were stationed some ten metres away so as to not disrupt their conversation.

"Alright," Bolonik said, "Then I'll prioritise them in the next voyage. By the way, my subordinates suggested that we take the eastern transport route next time. It'll save us five days at sea and prevent us from having to sail along the kingdom's coast. What do you think?"

Currently, the region's transport and escort ships sailed from Port Cobius in Tyrrsim across Tranquil Ocean and Sea of Storms to Whitestag before sailing along the coastline to Port Floric in the Rimodran region. It was a rather long route. It also took around a month for supplies to reach Polyvisia from Port Floric.

In other words, it took a month at sea and a month on land for goods to be shipped from the region to Polyvisia. The 100 thousand Nasrian captives were still looking for their families to be forcefully emigrated together to Aduras to work in the tobacco plantations. If the old maritime route was still used, it could take well over two months for them.

Claude shook his head. "That won't do. The best route to use is the western route. The eastern route is far too dangerous for us. The way through Nubari Islands is a pirate paradise. Before Whitestag's trade route to Tyrrsim was discovered, the kingdom's fleet, Fearless, escorted ships through the eastern route and would always come under pirate attack, suffering rather heavy casualties. That's why the eastern route is known as the path of blood.

"While we have Ironclad and are unmatched at sea, we suffered rather heavy losses fighting Seaking last year. Most of the warships have to be overhauled, so it'll take around eight months before they are operational again.

"The four warships that are in better condition are busy escorting ships along the coast and patrolling it. Do you think four alone will be able to escort such a large fleet of 300 plus transport ships through pirate heaven?

"If all of them are supply ships, then I won't be opposed to using the eastern route, since no lives would be lost. But we are transporting the captives and their family, so we better not take that risk. The most trouble we'll get by sailing along the coast from the kingdom will be from the local officials, which isn't a big deal at all.

"Don't forget that as long as we hold the guns, nobody will dare piss us off for real. If it comes to it, we'll just nab those officials and their families and send them to the plantations. It's not like our fleet isn't paying for our stays along the coast. Our arrivals even help the local economy.

"If there are local officials who would cause trouble for us, we don't have to be polite. Just deal with them is what we'll do. It's not like the king will be able to do anything even if he receives complaints. I'm sure the court will try to appease us as long as our two corps are here."

Bolonik burst out laughing. He said a little regrettably, "Claude, of the five of us, Eilon is all fight and no plan, Bick is reliable but too kind, Skri always overthink things, and I begin to think a little too much myself because of my age. My courage is waning and I don't like to antagonise people. Only you dare to be so brash and reckless. It's thanks to you that our region is what it is today. I doubt we'd be nearly that glorious without you around.

"It's no wonder when Lord Militant Miselk left, he told me that you're the only one among the five of us we can count on in a time of crisis. He asked us to not think too much and support your decisions because you'll always find a way even when there's none, just like your outlandish tactics during the sandtable battles. You're really quite a package, aren't you?"

Claude patted Bolonik's shoulder silently. There was no longer a need for words between them, having weathered through so much together across so many years. However, Claude felt a little melancholic at Miselk's mention, given that he wouldn't have reached where he was within a short decade or so without his help.

"Have we not found him in the kingdom yet?" Claude asked.

Bolonik shook his head. "No. The last we heard of him is he left for his hometown after getting hurt from the first prince's assassination attempt. His home should be a small village in the northeast of the mainland deep inside the mountains of the prefecture of Brigason. But the ones we sent to investigate found nothing but the burnt remains of a village. The fire looked to have broken out before the civil war. There isn't a single local to be found in the area, so we don't even know if he is alive. I'm starting to wonder if it was a plot against him and his family..."

"Forget it... One day, the truth will come out. If the Lord Militant really fell to a plot, we'll definitely avenge him."

"Of course. He's our teacher, and it's only right that we seek justice for him! I definitely won't let them off!"

A moment later, Claude asked, "Is the kingdom's finances really in that bad a state? Are they so desperate for the million crowns in the Nasrian treasury they'd send an ambassador all the way here to get it? It's kind of laughable... They say they don't have candidates to send here to administer the region, but there were a bunch of applicants to be the ambassador to come here for the money. By the way, have we distributed spoils yet? I don't want the ambassador to have funny thoughts when he sees how much we have."

Bolonik was in charge of the distribution. "Don't worry. The 20 million crowns' worth of gold and silver reserves have been shipped to the region to be stored in the bank. Apart from using some to pay off the loans we owe, the rest belongs to our corps. There is another ten million crowns' worth of pricey accessories and artworks, which we've transferred away as well. Apart from selling off some of them, the rest will be distributed among us five.

"As for cutlery and whatnot, they're free for our troops to pick out. Those are their direct bonuses. Apart from the pensions, each soldier of our two corps will get from 80 to a hundred crowns or memorabilia equivalent to that amount. Officers will get more. It's no wonder you said the best profits are made in war.

"Currently, all that's left in Polyvisia's treasury is gold-coated and silver-coated wares and glassware. There are some three to four warehouses of them and they're worth around 120 thousand crowns in total. I left them in the warehouses so the ambassador will find them and note that what we got are mostly these instead of gold and silver. We'll sell those off after giving the ambassador a wrong idea."

Thundercrash managed to get near 56 million crowns in wealth after sweeping Nasri and the three duchies clean. Among that, 20 million were all gold and silver reserves that were shipped to the region to be stored in the bank for future spending.

Ten million of that was in the form of expensive jewellery, artworks, and collectables, which the five generals shared among themselves. A part of them would also be auctioned off in the region. Claude estimated his personal profits to be around two million crowns. Naturally, he was more interested in the treasures themselves which he could leave for his descendants in the future.

The remaining 20 million were used to pay pensions and bonuses for Ironclad and the two corps. Berklin, for instance, would get more than a hundred thousand crowns' worth while the lowest of soldiers could also get up to 100 crowns in rewards.

Chapter 521 - Prime Minister's Two Proposals

The emissary soon arrived. He looked like a strict old man in his fifties. His hair was split down the middle. Coupled with his begrudged expression, he looked like someone owed money by the entire world. He was Viscount Donbajlo Ey Davlid. He had some familial ties to Fredrey I, apparently. The king even called him 'Uncle'. He was the kingdom's vice chief justice and chief inspector.

He had come with a line of royal guards to transport the five million crowns of gold reserves from the national treasury to the capital. Claude and Bolonik held a welcome ceremony as was required, but Claude found it weird that the viscount was being quite aloof, as if he was hiding something. The viscount excused himself very early on, giving the excuse of exhaustion after severe alcohol ingestion.

Negotiations thus only began the next day. Claude provided the inventory and vouched for its accuracy. The treasury's reserves were worth about 1.8 million crowns, and, as per the established dividends ratio, the region would take three-tenths. Another twenty percent was to be used to administer the territory, and the other half would be handed over to the emissary.

The viscount, however, insisted on taking 1.5 million back with him. The kingdom was in desperate straits, you had to understand. The royal guards were already owed three months of backpay, and the rest of the administration was going on their sixth month without pay.

"Impossible! How did the court ruin itself so thoroughly?!" Claude gasped, nearly jumping out of his seat.

The viscount smiled meekly at him, waited for him to settle back into his seat, then explained. The Union had stripped the capital, and all the reserves, clean when they'd taken the city. They'd also ravaged the countryside, and, when they were forced to withdraw, had destroyed every significant piece of infrastructure they could afford to spend time on as they went.

The entire kingdom was in shambles. They'd thus far only been able to scrounge up enough tax money to keep the administration's staff and the guard fed. They had nothing with which to begin rebuilding. Just repairing the eastern mines would cost hundreds of thousands of crowns. It had taken the kingdom centuries of slow development to get where it had been before the war, and it would take many more if they couldn't get a large infusion of funds now.

They had briefly considered taking out another loan from the colonies, but they already had one that was due at the end of the decade. It had been absolutely necessary during the war, even excusable, but there was no war now.

The court itself was prepared to swallow its pride and ask for another loan, but the old nobility was being stubborn. They saw it as the region extending its influence into the court even further. The court could simply borrow money from the nobles instead, up to a few million, in fact, but the loans they offered came with ridiculous interest rates. The court would receive eight-tenths of the amount they borrowed and pay 1.3 times the borrowed amount back, not to mention compounding interest.

It had infuriated the king. The colonies' interest was already bad enough, though at least still swallowable, but this was ridiculous. They could pay back the colonies' loan in a couple years, perhaps a decade, but with the interest the old nobility was demanding, it would take them a century or more to repay the loan. The king was not stupid enough to make such a bargain. Since they weren't willing to help in earnest, then he would see who could hold out longer while the kingdom was in its current state.

The one counting the most on Viscount Davlid's mission as ambassador was none other than Prime Minister Marquis Blancarte. He hoped to have 1.5 million crowns shipped back to solve the most pressing issues of the court first. A third of that would be used to pay salaries for the officials and the royal guard to be reassured.

Another third would be invested in the royal capital to restore the trade routes and roads the Union's army destroyed so that traders would once more be incentivised to come to the capital. As long as trade grew, the national treasury would once more begin to fill up from taxes. It was a rather sound policy. The remaining 500 thousand would be used to restore the mining infrastructure the Union wrecked. As long as those two large mines were restored, the kingdom would be getting some hundreds of thousands of crowns on a monthly basis, freeing them up to do many more things.

Davlid was quite sincere in his request and clearly laid out the troubles the court was facing. Claude, however, felt a little regret at hearing that. Had he known, he would've sent his troops to harass the Union's army's camp. At the very least, he could have attempted to stop Pillag from leaving the capital so easily with the spoils the injured soldiers collected for themselves. It was a huge loss. The Union's army did make off with quite a lot.

It was no wonder someone was so generous to leave so many supplies and equipment in their camp instead of burning them before leaving. It was so that they would give up on pursuit when they reached the camp. It was apparent that Duke Pillag understood that if he burned those supplies, Thundercrash would never give up on pursuing his retreating troops, even if it meant busting through Mambamark's border.

He truly was a sly fellow. All Claude could do now was bemoan his loss.

"What are you thinking about?" Bolonik gave him a nudge and snapped him out of it. "I agreed to the ambassador's request to help the kingdom."

"Please be assured that the kingdom will not forget your loyal contribution. The Lord Prime Minister did ask me to pass on that the kingdom couldn't provide the rewards your troops deserve due to financial straits. So, he suggested giving you the rights to mine in Nasri for half a year. During that time, all you have to do is to hand the court a third of the profits. The rest can be used at your discretion.

"You should know that the kingdom usually goes for a three-seven split, with seven going into the national treasury and three being pocketed privately. Being given two-thirds for half a year is nothing short of breaking precedent," Davlid hurriedly recited.

There were seven intermediate to small-sized gold-and-silver mines in Nasri which were the source of their funding. As for copper, they were immediately minted into coins and released into circulation. Claude looked at the accounts and saw that they could produce up to 1.4 million crowns each year.

A third of that was around 400 thousand, which meant the region would have a million at least. Though, with the term being half a year, that amount wouldn't be more than 600 thousand.

"You have a really good plan. You don't even have to pay a fenny. We're the ones who'll be hiring miners, maintaining machines and building infrastructure to mine. We'd have to invest some 100 thousand crowns before we start," Claude said, shaking his head, "Also, why only half a year? It's far too short. We'd need one at least."

Viscount Davlid laughed awkwardly. "To be frank, I wanted to give you more time as well, but the prime minister and I have no idea how things might change over the next half a year. There's no saying who will own the seven mines. We might have to sign new deals with the ones in charge.

"As for the excavation rights, you should mine as much as you can for now. Once the time is reached, if you don't receive any notice from us, you can continue to mine. If the mineable resources here have a proper owner then, we'll only take it over in half a year."

Claude's curiosity was being piqued more and more.

"Are you saying you guys have some inside scoop on something happening in half a year? Pray do tell. Or are you saying the court is planning to sell the mines off?"

"Whatever, it's not like you are outsiders, being hereditary nobles and all. I'll tell you frankly." Davlid looked around and relaxed when he was sure nobody else was around.

"Don't worry. Nobody will eavesdrop," Bolonik assured.

"Well, Prime Minister Blancarte handed in a proposal to restore the kingdom, and it was unanimously passed by the Council of Dignitarians. Even the nobles think this can turn things around quickly. We'll become one of the strongest kingdoms on Freia again.

"The prime minister hopes to bring in railroad trains from the colonies and build railroads here to connect the entire Eastern Freia, thus speeding up movement times. We'll rebuild the waterways and irrigation routes as well to ensure agriculture stability. The construction of factories and companies that benefit the general populace will also be supported and encouraged so their products and services can compete with the colonies'.

"Another emphasis is the strengthening of the army. The three main corps' gear will be renewed and we'll receive training from the two corps from the colonies. We're hoping this'll return the people's trust in our forces. At the same time, we'll also need the most-advanced ironclad fleet for ourselves. We'll work together with the region to build new ironclad warships to defend our overseas interests and the safety of trade routes of Eastern Freia.

"Additionally, there are many finer adjustments to taxation, which I won't bring up for now. That plan has detailed our current predicament really clearly and offered targeted solutions for each one of them. One problem, however, that we aren't able to solve, is the empty national treasury. We have no funds with which to carry this out.

"This restoration plan will take at least 50 million crowns. Prime Minister Blancarte hopes that we can complete the plan within five years so that we won't miss out on the best window of opportunity, but there's nothing we can do without money. With the first year's investment quota being above ten million crowns, where would we get such a huge loan?

"Some parts of the proposal like the building of railroads will be the largest expenditure. Covering the entire area will cost at least 20 million crowns in funding, and the prime minister hopes to take a book out of the region by crowdsourcing investment from the general populace in the form of shares.

"Another huge expenditure in the proposal is the renewal of military gear and the formation of the ironclad fleet. The prime minister plans to issue national bonds with terms of three, five, eight and ten years respectively. Each successive term will see a dividend of five percent. For instance, if you buy a ten-year-term bond for 100 crowns, you'll get 120 crowns back in ten years.

"The prime minister hopes that military funds amounting to 15 million crowns can be collected from the bonds, but the bonds were mocked by many others. Many economists don't put much stock into it, saying that the returns are far too low. One noble even told the prime minister that if one used a hundred crowns to start a business and didn't get at least three to four hundred crowns back within ten years, the business would be considered a failure. That's why the bonds aren't attractive at all.

"Even if enough funds could be gathered from those bonds, we're still 15 million crowns short. Initially, it was hoped that we could use the growth in the next few years to gather the funding we still lack, but it seems impossible if you think about it. The economy of Eastern Freia is a complete wreck after the war. We won't be able to recover within a short timeframe.

"The proposal is perfect, but we lack the funding to make it a reality. That's why the prime minister was mocked by many nobles for being a daydreamer. The reason the proposal even got unanimous approval is nobody really believes in it in the first place. They didn't bother to argue against something that was doomed to fail.

"So, the dissatisfied prime minister privately gave his secret proposal to His Majesty, which only a small minority of people are aware of. The proposal suggests a return to the feudal system and the enfeoffment of hereditary fiefs to earn the funding and support of the old nobility..."

"Wait, it can't be. Returning to the feudal system is regressing, isn't it? Stellin XI wanted to reform it and only managed to win after six years! Isn't going back to the feudal system a regress?" Bolonik interrupted from sheer shock as he shot Claude a look.

"No, no, no, General Bolonik, don't misunderstand. The prime minister has his reasons for making the proposal, and it has received His Majesty's permission. Listen first." As Davlid calmed him down, Claude helped Bolonik back into his seat.

"Come to think of it, it's thanks to the brave fight the colonies' men put up that this proposal was even possible. With Nasri, Canas and the other enemies of the kingdom wiped out, the kingdom has finally united Eastern Freia. It's thanks to your efforts that the foundation of the kingdom's prosperity was laid. That's why the prime minister came up with that new solution."

Davlid pointed to the ground. "The new fiefs the prime minister is suggesting to enfeoff is not in the kingdom itself."

Claude looked at the floor and it clicked. "You're talking about the Nasrian region?"

Davlid nodded approvingly. "Nasri has always been a feudal nation. The citizens here are used to being subjects of nobles and relying on their lords to live. If we implement our Rights of the Four Castes here, we'll have to invest lots in educating the peasants. It'll take up to 30 years for any effect to be observed.

"But the kingdom doesn't have the funding for that, and the citizens here hold animosity towards the kingdom. Given all that, running this place like we run the kingdom isn't ideal. We might easily incite revolt or the like. The citizens reacted the same during the decade of annexation of the four Nasrian prefectures at the border. That's a lesson we've taken to heart.

"So, since the citizens here count on a dominion lord, we'll give them one. The peace and development will naturally be the lord's responsibility, so the kingdom's burdens will be lightened. The kingdom will receive an annual tribute from the lords of ten percent, and the payment will be collected once every ten years.

"Additionally, only hereditary nobles will be enfeoffed territory here, with the size of their fiefs proportional to their Titles. You can also pick your own territory here, but you'll have to pay a fee for that. Additionally, trigenerational and honorary nobles can also gain fiefs here as long as they pay the court to have their status elevated to hereditary.

"For instance, honorary barons who want to become hereditary barons have to pay 100 thousand crowns to become a trigenerational baron and another 200 thousand to become a hereditary baron. Only then will His Majesty grant him a barony. The two of you are already hereditary nobles, so you can already get fiefs, but it'll cost you if you want to pick your own."

Chapter 522 - The King's Scheme

Viscount Davlid stayed in Polyvisia for three days before leaving, satisfied. His mission as the king's emissary concluded magnificently, far better than expected, in fact. The two generals from the autonomous region were really easy to negotiate with. Not only did he manage to leave with 1.5 million crowns, he also got all the supplies and gear they didn't need. They even sent a line of light cavalry along as an escort.

Since Claude and Bolonik were so sincere, Davlid returned the favour by telling them much of what he knew about the prime minister's plans for the kingdom so that the two generals could better understand the state of the kingdom. They got along quite well over those three days.

As the king's emissary, apart from talking to Claude and the rest about handing over the reserves, Davlid had to verify the contributions Thundercrash and Monolith had made and inspect the wealth confiscated from the treasury. Even the seven mines had to be properly inspected.

He left it all to the two generals, however, with the excuse that he didn't have time for it. He only took the list of promotion requests and said that, given the two corps' abilities and his interactions with the two generals, he believed they would not fake the contributions.

Claude and Bolonik were quite touched. So they gave all the spoils they didn't need to him as well so the national armoury could be restocked. While the gear was almost useless to them, it was a great help to the court, which could use it to arm local garrisons.

The gear and ammunition worth up to a million crowns was given away just like that and Claude didn't feel the slightest bit regretful about it. To him, they were nothing more than dust gatherers that took up space but were too wasteful to just throw away. While medicinal supplies, bandages, carpets, tents and washbasins still had their uses, the uniforms, belts and water flasks didn't match the loadouts of the region's troops.

Mementos from the battles were fine, but useables like that were not really necessary. The weapons were also unappealing for the soldiers of the region. Yet, it was really hard to find a buyer for those, and even if one was found, the price those could sell for was exceedingly low. It would be better to use them to earn the ambassador's favour by giving them to the kingdom. That way, the region would have someone on their side in the court.

Seeing Davlid pop out of the carriage one last time to wave goodbye, Claude and Bolonik waved back as they sent him off and ordered the army band beside them to play a joyous tune. They only turned back to the city once the ambassador was out of their sights.

"Let's go take a walk on the city walls," Bolonik said.

Claude accompanied him up. Their adjutants followed ten metres back to avoid disrupting their walk.

"Just look at the sights..." Bolonik took out two cigars, handed one to Claude, and the two began to smoke.

"What do you think about what Viscount Davlid revealed to us, specifically, the prime minister's plan to give hereditary nobles fiefs?" Bolonik asked out of the blue. Over the past three days, the two either accompanied Davlid or tended to their work, having had no time at all to have private discussions. Now that the ambassador was gone, Bolonik wanted to hear Claude's analysis on the matter.

Claude breathed a mouthful of smoke, blowing two smoke rings into the air as he thought up his reply.

"Actually, I have always believed Viscount Davlid came here for another reason. He probably came here to probe our reaction about the enfeoffment plan."

Bolonik nodded.

"I had that feeling as well. What I'm curious about is, why us? We come from the region, so the court should be really strongly against us. To the kingdom, we're just another type of traitor. Even when the kingdom is urgently in need of help, they shouldn't be taking the initiative to give us fiefs. They can just use the excuse that we're from the region to exclude us from the giving of the hereditary Titles."

Claude smirked. He didn't answer Bolonik's doubts, instead choosing to change the subject. "I've grown rather interested in this Blancarte recently, so I had someone do some research on him. The report I got states that the prime minister, full name Blancarte Soe Sevilio, is forty-one this year. He's the captain of His Majesty's guard in his youth and grew up with him.

"Our prime minister comes from House Sevilio, a huge force in the old nobility. Three of the kingdom's industrial complexes are run by that house alongside six other old noble houses. However, Blancarte isn't the descendant of the direct line from the official wife; his mother is a maidservant of his father that was later taken in to be a concubine. Given his status, he was relegated to the third prince, Fredrey, to be his bodyguard.

"Nobody knew that the weak third prince would become His Majesty Fredrey I as he is today. Blancarte, having accompanied the king for more than two decades, holds his trust greatly. Given his capabilities, he was soon appointed the new prime minister of the kingdom. Back then, His Majesty had just ascended to the throne and nobody dared go against his decree, and Blancarte also came from House Sevilio, so he could be considered among the old nobility. That's why they gave their tacit approval.

"That's about as much as I got on the prime minister, but there are rumours that he and the current head of House Sevilio, his brother from a different mother, are at severe odds with one another. It's said that many in House Sevilio are suggesting for Blancarte to take over as the head of the house. That way, the house will be able to grow even more prosperous. However, the current head and his younger half-brother, Count Turlyke Sevilio, are being stubborn.

"If the proposal is something our prime minister came up with himself, I believe he definitely doesn't side with the old nobility, but His Majesty himself. If it isn't, then the one pulling the strings hates the old nobility with a passion. What you're thinking of isn't wrong. It is a plan to counteract the old nobility faction. Our region, on the other hand, is merely caught up in this mess."

Bolonik's cigar fell onto the ground audibly. He widened his eyes and asked, "How did you come to such a conclusion?"

"Sometimes, what we know about history can be far from the truth. What we're shown is what we're allowed to see after lots of dressing up and sugarcoating." He took a deep puff from his cigar and puffed out some five smoke rings. Looking at the scenery beyond the walls, he solemnly said, "I recall the history books we studied in the national middle schools state that Stellin IX fought the War of Reformation because his elder sister, Princess Elenia and his brother, Prince Aunass, tore the kingdom apart in their power struggle. The unruly nobles also devastated the lives of the peasants.

"That's why Stellin IX raised the flag of rebellion to wipe out any injustice he saw, getting rid of despotic nobles and officials under the banner of revolution and became the monarch of the era. I'm sure you've seen something similar in military college. Our history classes should be identical.

"But during the past two days, I went to the archive here in Polyvisia to see Nasri's historical records about Aueras. I found that the real reason Stellin IX started the rebellion was there was no more land in the kingdom to enfeoff to hereditary nobles.

"I found information about fiefs during Stellin VIII's reign and noticed that apart from the royal capital and Ibnist Plains, all lands in the kingdom belonged to the nobles. In the three-century history of our kingdom, the kingdom created countless nobles. When the kingdom stopped expanding, there was no more land to enfeoff to descendants of nobles that made contributions to the kingdom.

"That's why during Stellin VIII's reign, the kingdom ran out of land to enfeoff. Since then, the reputation of the royal family plummeted in the eyes of the nobles, as they weren't willing to give out an inch of Ibnist Plains at all. The records also stated that there was no war in Princess Elenia and Prince Aunass' power struggle, only some small-scale armed conflicts.

"Only Stellin IX formed an army of his own to attack the other nobles once he conquered my hometown, Whitestag, which used to be the barony of a hereditary baron. Eventually, things snowballed into a huge issue. When the nobles realised that Stellin IX was targeting them, they hurried and allied together to resist Stellin IX's reformation army, but the time for the fight was long over. They had already lost.

"When Stellin IX ascended to the throne, he took back the fiefs of the nobles and changed the Title to come with annuity. He probably wanted to leave a complete kingdom to his descendants. Little did he know that the nobles would focus on the economy after losing their land, eventually forming into the old nobility faction of today. They control the kingdom's military industries and cultivated their young to take up military posts to the point that even the royal family wasn't able to do anything about it."

Claude took the last few puffs of his smoke and squashed the cigar with his feet. "I suspect the enfeoffment proposal is a scheme to fight back against the old nobility. To a noble, the most important and valuable thing is their fief. The fief is the core of their household.

"Owning their own fief which they can pass on to their descendants where they can do whatever they want without repercussions, where they were practically kings beholden to no laws or orders, was something that could bring their household unlimited wealth. They wouldn't have anything to worry about at all.

"When they do not have their own fiefs, the nobles would band together to occupy the kingdom's core trade and industries, becoming a monopolistic trading union in effect, continuously expanding their influence in the kingdom and the military, which led to this problem that plagues His Majesty endlessly. Nothing can be done without their explicit support. The development of the kingdom's economy is almost impossible without the old nobility.

"This plan to enfeoff land to them is one designed to split the old nobility. Once they have their own fiefs, they will focus most of their attention and efforts into them. It isn't a surprise, then, that the nobles would start to get into conflicts among themselves from overlapping interests. That would definitely affect their unity.

"However, there's another thing this scheme intends to achieve, and that's scraping some wealth off the old nobility. Didn't the ambassador mention that any noble that isn't satisfied with the fief they're given can pick better lands for themselves for a fee? The key lies in the fee. His Majesty is their sole arbiter, as is the divine right of the monarch. Nobody can influence that decision.

"Apart from that, the trigenerational and honorary nobles also want a fief for themselves, so they just have to pay. I don't doubt the king and court can amass a huge amount of wealth easily by offering fiefs this way. Just because the kingdom is broke doesn't mean its citizens are broke. Perhaps the prime minister's plan to revive the kingdom won't be that hard to achieve after all.

"There's another important thing. Placing the fiefs in Nasri will allow the kingdom to shake off a heavy burden. The revolts that break out here will henceforth have nothing to do with the kingdom. The nobles enfeoffed here will have to form their own forces to suppress the locals. That would inevitably force them to transfer some of their relatives in the kingdom's forces into their own local forces, further diminishing their influence in the military.

"In other words, the situation favours His Majesty completely. This is a scheme that offers lots to gain and nothing to lose. They even include the people from the region within. Just think about it. If the five of us are enfeoffed land by His Majesty, what would the council members back in the region think? Will we still be able to control the future of the region?"

Bolonik's expression paled. He gave it a long thought before gingerly asking, "Then, what if we refuse the enfeoffment?"

Claude smiled coldly and shook his head.

"Impossible. Do you think your family members will agree? Your parents' letters of congratulations will soon reach you, asking you to pick a good fief. After all, Freia is the centre of Faslan. No matter how much we develop our territory, it'll always be on the edge of the world.

"Not to mention, even if we refuse enfeoffment, what of our subordinates? The troops our two corps have contributed to ending Nasri and Canas to reclaim our territories. His Majesty will definitely use this opportunity for grand rewards. Trust me, our region will soon have tens of new nobles. Naturally, hereditary ones will be in the minority, but honorary and trigenerational ones will definitely be all over the place.

"Perhaps I'm overthinking this, but it's quite laughable if it turns out to be true. Much of the wealth we got from Nasri will be in the king's hands soon enough. What can we do when the men ask our banks for loans to purchase the titles? If we turn them down they'll lose all trust and loyalty in us."

"... Then what should we do?"

Bolonik started to panic.

"We'll throw our own mess into the mix!" Claude snapped, before taking in a deep breath, "To be honest, I don't have a good idea right now. I can only wait for this to develop further. Perhaps we should discuss this again after the awards are given out."

Chapter 523 - Elevation Fee

Claude couldn't think up a solution.

It was often said that people were selfish. The wealth and beauties they saw, they coveted. The status and power others had, they desired. It was a primal drive ingrained in the human psyche. However, clear-minded people could control their desires and work hard to take every step towards their dreams before ultimately succeeding. And then there were those that didn't want to put in effort, yet wanted all their desires fulfilled, only to walk the oft-trodden path to ruin.

Bolonik had suggested he should have the region's to-be-enfeoffed unite and choose locations connected to one another and demand to be placed directly under the region's administration. It would give them a foothold on the continent, but Claude shot the idea down. If every council member in the region was made an honorary noble, they would spend 300 thousand crowns without hesitation to become hereditary nobles. They'd not want to be under the region's administration once they're landed nobles.

Instead, they might very well transfer all sorts of resources from the region to nourish their fiefs on Freia. Their new fiefs would far exceed the importance of their status and position in the region. Fiefs could be passed on to descendants, while their positions earned through merit, could not.

Clearly that was the crux of the scheme, and it was the hardest one to get around. It would cause others to jump into it willingly, even knowing that it could be a trap. While Claude was all too aware of how that would affect the region, there was nothing he could do about it. He could control his own actions, but not those of others.

A month or so later, the fiefdom proposal sent waves through the royal capital. According to the reports from the region's office in the royal capital, it was said Fredrey I approved of that proposal. It was also unanimously supported by the House of Lords. However, many lower house dignitarians were still arguing about the matter. There wasn't a clear majority of supporters and detractors of the proposal.

Additionally, it was said that the king was going to give honorary baron Titles to all members of the House of Dignitarians. It seemed that Fredrey I was going all out on this bet. If the members of the lower house themselves were honorary barons, all they had to do to become actual hereditary barons was to pay a sum of money. They would also gain a fief to go along with that title. That way, nobody would be against the proposal.

The coming days were chaotic to say the least. The nobles sent dozens of emissaries every day, many were descendants of those very self-same nobles. Some were even the brothers and sisters of the current heads of the households. They brought luxurious gifts and bright smiles, requesting Thundercrash give them guarded tours of the kingdom's new territories.

They were there to call dibs on land. Claude and Bolonik were more than frustrated, but they would never lift their hands against those that came without ill intentions. Not to mention, many of them had lots of influence with the capital, and none showed a hint of the conflict between the old nobility and the region. They maintained a polite air the whole time.

Claude waited until they offered to pay for the escort before agreeing. Claude was far more relaxed about the whole affair than Bolonik. At least, he didn't have elders coming to chew him up about picking a fine land for the family.

As Claude predicted, Bolonik's father who was in his seventies came with two of his younger relatives all the way to Polyvisia by carriage with the same aim to pick a fief for the household. Bolonik's wife and children lived in Lanu in the autonomous region, but his parents and siblings still lived in a farmstead they ran near the royal capital.

Upon hearing about Bolonik's enfeoffment, the parents who were quite unwilling to associate with him yielded and came all the way just to get him to pick out a good fief. His father was a man that Claude felt an instinctive urge to scoff at, having rebuked Bolonik when he was just standing beside him, saying that he could just leave the fief to his siblings to run while he continued to live in the region.

At the end, Claude stepped out and told the old man to dream on. As one of the region's top leaders, his fief would be managed by the region as the council had decided. The location of the fief would also be set according to the region's plans, not according to Bolonik himself. If Bolonik didn't agree to that, he could leave the executive committee of the council to run his own fief. In future, he would have nothing more to do with the region.

While Bolonik's father was angry that the region interfered in the matter of his family's fief, he didn't let it cloud his mind, knowing that it was thanks to the region that his son managed to climb to his current position, bringing the family much prestige. So, he didn't flip out, simply leaving after shaking some money and expensive gifts out of Bolonik and leaving for the royal capital, crestfallen.

Bolonik finally breathed a sigh of relief and thanked Claude for bailing him out. Everyone had their troubles, and Bolonik knew that his parents really didn't like him, their second son. They had even disinherited him and struck him from the family register. Bolonik understood they had done so to protect the household's farmstead from his escapades on Nubissia.

But after the region sent reinforcements to the mainland during the Triumph of Ambruiz, his parents changed their tune and called him their proud son. They also sent his elder brother to him to tell him about how their farmstead had been raided clean by the Union. His brother left with quite a substantial amount of money from him.

Thanks to him, his parents and siblings from a poor household were able to buy a farmstead near the royal capital and start a family business. Many of their neighbours who were forced to sell their land were filled with unspoken complaints. The reputation of Bolonik's family was rather bad, but their current status made it so that even local officials didn't dare to offend them, as was reported to Bolonik by an informant he sent.

Bolonik knew that once he got a fief and let his family step in, they would turn his personal fief into the family's and start dreaming of getting him to get his brothers a few more Titles so his parents' precious children will have rights to inherit the fief.

Things like that really happened. Actual nobles had done far more for far less when it came to inheritance. If Bolonik, his wife and children continued to live in the region, then all would be well. But once his family took control of the fief and Bolonik's wife and children wanted to return to the fief, there would be some 'accident' waiting for them.

Bolonik didn't trust his parents and siblings. Otherwise, they wouldn't have sent him to military college when he was only twelve, where the food and accommodation was free and he only got to return home once per month. Once he grew up, he would have no choice but to join the military. It was akin to having sold him to the army. Unlike other poor students who joined because of their bad household finances, he was sent there just because his parents didn't like him for being aloof as a child.

Looking at the descendants of nobles flocking to the Nasrian region and those who were freaking out in the royal capital, it was obvious how much of a commotion this new proposal caused. Even Bolonik's father wanted to stick his hands into the matter. Gaining their own fief was the formerly unachievable dream of many and now, they finally got that chance. The proposal would definitely pass into bill at the lower house.

Fredrey I and Blancarte's plan was really successful. At least, the king finally managed to get a trump card to use against the old nobility. Currently, none of them dared to antagonise him as the right to locate their fiefs lay in his hands. They had to get the king's express permission to get a fief to their liking.

It was laughable that Stellin IX fought for six whole years to remove the feudal system so that his descendants wouldn't be constrained to just Ibnist Plains. The Reformation King would never have imagined that without fiefs, the nobles would turn their attention to monopolising the kingdom's trade and industries.

In the past century, the old nobility's faction developed to a point they became unbeatable giants in the kingdom, with the kingdom's key military industries in their hands. No longer having fiefs for petty conflicts to break out over, the nobles were united in their cause. Some who were unwilling to take up the mantle as head of the household even gave up on their rights to inherit the Title for some extra cash to lead a good life.

Fredrey I's move would easily give him power over the nobles once more. The old nobility would also relax their limits on the royal court and pay out to solve the kingdom's financial issues. It could also cause the autonomous region some trouble. The proposal received universal acclaim from sharp-witted folks just like Claude. It was a trap they had to jump into.

Sometimes, Claude wondered if it was his fault it was allowed to develop that way. If only all he did was just chase the Union's troops out of the kingdom instead of pressing on to conquer more territory and exterminating Nasri and Canas, putting him into this predicament as a result. Though, he knew that there was no use crying over spilt milk. At the time, there was no way he could've decided differently.

If he stopped after driving the Union out, the region's two corps would continue to face off against them at the border. Even the region wouldn't be able to take the cost of fighting for a few more years. Beating the enemy while they were down was much more practical. Only then could Thundercrash and Monolith strike fear into enemies internal and external.

The noble ambassadors and descendants spent two months scooting around the Nasrian region and returned to Polyvisia once they made their decisions. They thanked Claude and Bolonik for the escort and returned to the royal capital. At that point, Viscount Davlid came once more as an ambassador of the court to hand out promotions and rewards for the region's troops.

As Claude expected, Fredrey I was really generous with the rewards. Claude and Bolonik were promoted to Lord Militant, Eiblont, Skri and Birklin from lieutenant-generals to generals, Berklin, Moriad, Dyavid, Myjack and four other major-generals from Monolith to lieutenant-generals. Additionally, 22 other colonels were promoted to major-generals.

Weyblon's son, Drivick, was included among them. His dream to become general had finally come true. The two new Lord Militants could only watch as general ranks were handed out like candy. After the promotion, they would have to reorganise the troops once more. The two corps couldn't have that many. They probably had to put a local garrison line under each major-general.

The rank promotions were not too out of the question, since the two corps did exterminate two enemy nations and helped the kingdom unite Eastern Freia. However, Davlid apologised and said the monetary reward would have to wait two to three months until the court gathered more funds.

Lastly came the entitlements of exceptional soldiers. Claude, a hereditary baron, was promoted to hereditary count. Bolonik used to be a trigenerational viscount, but was created a hereditary viscount, one level below Claude. Skri, Eiblont and Birkin, former trigenerational barons, were created hereditary barons. It appeared that the king didn't feel it appropriate to take the elevation fee from them and simply gave them a hereditary Title directly.

It was quite funny to Claude that the entitlement seemed no different from handing out candy. Even Skri, who hadn't set foot onto the mainland and only took care of logistics, gained a hereditary Title. Apart from the five heads of the region, 19 high-ranking officers of the two corps received honorary baron Titles. Berklin, Myjack and the rest were upgraded from honorary barons to trigenerational barons, and 47 other soldiers were given honorary Titles up to the level of count.

Then, Davlid told Claude and the rest of another matter. As the king had given honorary Titles to the members of the lower house, he would also give the council members of the region honorary baron Titles to maintain fairness. Those who already had an honorary Title would automatically be upgraded to one level higher. For instance, Weyblon and Bernard became honorary viscounts.

It seemed that the king wasn't going to let the council members off, knowing how rich they were. So, he gave them a chance to get their own fiefs. Claude didn't need to think hard to know that the council members would definitely empty their coffers for the hereditary Title to get a piece of land. The wealth the council members amassed over decades would belong to the king soon.

"How is the elevation fee calculated?" Bolonik asked.

Davlid, being well prepared, waved for his secretary to hand him a document. "Honorary barons, for instance, have to pay ten thousand crowns to be promoted to honorary viscounts. It'll take 20 thousand crowns to be created an honorary count, 30 thousand to an honorary marquis, 40 thousand to an honorary duke and 50 thousand to be elevated to a trigenerational baron.

"In other words, it'll take 150 thousand crowns to be elevated from an honorary baron to trigenerational baron. It costs the same ten thousand crowns to go from trigenerational baron to viscount. In total, another 150 thousand is needed to become hereditary baron. All in all, 300 thousand crowns are necessary for a fief to be bequeathed by His Majesty."

Claude really wanted to curse. If every council member wants their own fief, they'll definitely be paying the fee. There were 112 council members in the region in total. Fredrey I could easily scoop 30 million crowns from their pockets.

Chapter 524 - Choice and Solidarity

"Have you thought about your coat of arms?" Claude asked as he looked at the noble crests scattered across the Nasrian map.

Bolonik approached him and gazed at the map, then sighed.

"I had someone design one. I also have three alternatives in the works. They'll compare the suggestions to all the other applications and choose the one that is the most distinct. I'm sure at least one of the four will be appropriate. If they reject all of them, I'll just have to pay them that ludicrous fee to have them make me one."

Claude laughed.

"Don't worry. You're a hereditary viscount. You can add symbols to the lower half of your shield. That alone should make your coat of arms stand out enough. And don't think too much about 'meaning' and 'symbolism' and the like. Just pick whatever you want, plant, animal, landscape, stars, or whatever else takes your fancy. And if anyone elses looks the same, just tweak it a little. I mean, just look at this old map. The bull alone appears on more than ten Nasrian coats of arms. They're each just a little different from the next."

"Right. I chose an aiming musketman for my main symbol in memory of the first time I fought on the battlefield. I want my descendents to remember that I, the founder of our house, started as a peasant and literally fought my way to where I am today."

Claude rolled his eyes.

"Stop joking. You graduated college right into second lieutenant. The closest you ever came to being a peasant was banging the town wench! And no second lieutenant's ever been allowed to march into battle with the lines. I've had to fight in the lines, I only survived thanks to luck."

Bolonik shook his head, a sly and somewhat embarrassed smile on his lips.

"I did march into battle in the lines. Eight hundred of us marched onto the field, and three hundred marched off. I also survived only because luck was on my side.

"We were attacking an enemy clan. They'd already repelled eight attacks and crushed two tribes in the process. We would've failed as well if not for their equipment failing due to overuse and their ammunition stores running dry--

"--But back on topic," Bolonik said, waving at the map, "How many fiefs are there at the moment?

"About six hundred," Claude answered, flipping through a folder lying in front of him on the desk. Last tally, yesterday, had it at 456 barons, 61 viscounts, 43 counts, 14 marquises, and three dukes, all hereditary. 580 in all. I wouldn't be surprised if yet more signed on today."

Bolonik's eyes flashed enviously.

"So we had so many rich bastards..."

"The best areas in old Nasri are around Polyvisia, but I seriously doubt the king and his court will part with any of them. Not that I think any of the nobles that've signed on thus far have the testicular fortitude to ask for lands from there."

"Have they all paid?"

"Yes. The smallest payment thus far has been 100 thousand crowns. The king is swimming in money right now. They've already raked in over ten million crowns. He's even offering personal loans to nobles who don't have the coins on hand to pay the fees. He's even willing to switch out the coin fee for some other equivalent compensation.

"Most of the people who've signed up are old nobility though. Most of them have only had to pay the fee for picking new fiefs, since they're already hereditary nobles. Most of the rest are trigenerational and other honorary nobles from the mainland. Most of them have chosen to become hereditary barons. I expect the king has made some 30 million from these mainland nobles alone.

"And then there are still some eight hundred who've yet to decide whether to cough up the coins and buy the promotion and a new fief. Think about it... Over three hundred honorary baron Titles were given when it was announced that members of the lower house would be made honorary nobles. Those barons are now gathering funds to buy a hereditary promotion and a fief. If the ones who can't pay upfront all get loans... The interest alone could fund a good portion of the kingdom's budget for several years, if not decades."

None of this had been officially shared, of course. It was all gathered by the region's extensive network of spies, informants, and other agents in the mainland.

Bolonik had little interest in royal-family gossip.

"If all the nobles get fiefs, will the entirety of old Nasri be taken?"

Claude shook his head.

"No. Even the hereditary dukes can only get half a prefecture's worth of land, at most. The hereditary barons only get a small village. If they're lucky, maybe a town. There are 16 prefectures in central Nasri, five in the northeast and seven in the southwest. There's also the territory near Polyvisia. All in all, the territory isn't that much smaller than Aueras.

Five hundred and eighty fiefs have been allocated thus far, but they only account for a little less than a quarter of the land. Most of the nobles will only get baronies, so their new territories will be much less than the 580 old nobles. I would be surprised if even a half of the territory is taken by the end of this. It might even have been set aside for people from the region."

"We only get to choose the leftovers... I doubt anything good will be left by the time it's our turn."

"What would the rest of the council, not to mention the men, think if we picked our fiefs ahead of them? Would they still respect us as their superiors? In fact, I bet the king is hoping we will and that it'll cause a rift between us and the rest of the people from the region. Without our leadership the region would be much weaker, and without the region's power, we'd have no backing to uphold our position."

Bolonik was torn by exactly that. Without the region, he would not be Lord Militant. If he broke with the region, he would be a nobody despite his Title. His Title only meant something because he had the power to back it up.

"Give it another month. We'll head for Canpast near Northbay when Ironclad arrives at Port Floric with the council. We'll talk more about this then. Chairman Bernard wrote me. He has emphasised the importance of our unity right now."

Claude patted Bolonik's shoulder. He was the only man on either continent Bolonik allowed to be so familiar.

"We did not predict this when we agreed to deploy our forces. Fredrey I has really caught us off our guard. We need to be very, very careful about how we handle this. If we make the wrong move, or even worse, if we fail to stand united, the region will crumble."

Bolonik patted Claude's hand on his shoulder gratefully, then pointed at the map.

"I understand. I'm just a little miffed we don't get the good places. Nasri is rich, but all the best parts are already taken.

"Just look at the seven mines. The old nobility claimed them almost instantly, and they even sent people to the mines to count our yields. They'll be taking over in half a year. They even sent letters to ask us to sell them some captives for the mines."

The region could only operate the mines for half a year, so Claude hadn't bothered to invest in the area's infrastructure. He'd instead put the 100 thousand Shiksan captives to work in the mines directly. Once the mines were full of labourers, he'd just put the rest in camps around Polyvisia.

The yields thus far had been very good. Especially since there had been no officials to skim graft off the top. They'd even overshot their initial targets twice over. The former kingdom's records had led them to estimate they could get a six-month portion of the 1.4 million crowns of annual yield recorded up to the start of the war, but they'd already exceeded that. Their best current estimate was that the actual yield was closer to three million crowns a year.

The old officials had actually skimmed half the yield off the top. At this point it was actually outright siphoning. It benefited the two corps immensely, however. The kingdom's court had set their portion demands based on the official records, and so the two corps only had to pay them 200 thousand crowns. The rest would be shipped back home.

Bolonik had hoped to drag the process on for several more months, maybe a full year, so they could pocket a lot more, but the eager old nobles had jumped in way too quickly and so they'd only gotten the six months in the initial agreement.

"We have more than enough mines back home," Claude reminded. Small denominations were all paper on the region. The total coin value of the notes was estimated at around 30 million crowns. Most of the money was in use in the coastal cities along the west coast of the continent.

The colonies of the west Nubissian coast had forbidden foreign banks from operating on the continent, so any coin-to-note and vice versa exchanges had to happen in the local bank branches. Despite this, the paper notes had caught on surprisingly quickly simply for being far more wieldy than heavy coins.

The use of paper money had been helped along significantly by the mainland giving permission for a single branch of the colonial bank to open in Whitestag. They had not been allowed to open a branch in the royal capital, but they'd gotten around that by exchanging coins for notes through their administrative office in the capital. The capital's people did not trust the notes, however. On the mainland, notes had only seen moderate uptake in Whitestag, and nowhere else.

Ironically, despite the autonomous region's impressive mineral wealth, the people had gotten so used to using paper money, that they'd lost interest in the mines, especially the rare metals used almost exclusively for minting coins. The region's reserve already had 20 million crowns, which was more than enough to guarantee the value of their paper money, and so nobody felt the need to mine more. They'd grown so used to using money, in fact, that when the two corps had taken Canas and Nasri, they'd shipped everything back to the autonomous region as is, without considering the fact that Freia still used exclusively coins. It had left them in a tough spot for a while when they needed to buy supplies.

It was one of the big reasons Bolonik was so caught up with the mines and their output. The two corps they had stationed in the region cost a lot in upkeep. The meat, fish, and fresh vegetables and fruit they required cost thousands of crowns a month. He regretted being too generous and letting the ambassador leave with so much of the reserves. Now the court couldn't be richer even if it wanted.

"We can't sell even a single captive. We might need them to develop our new fiefs," Claude said.

On the 1st of the 6th month, the first official enfeoffment ceremony was held by Fredrey I. By the 1st of the 8th month, the 580 hereditary noble households received their fiefs.

However, the nobles from the region didn't make their move at all, as if they hadn't heard about the ceremony at all. The main reason was the sheer distance between the region and the mainland. It would take them two months alone for a round trip, and the two corps in the Nasrian Canasian and regions wouldn't be able to return within the short term. As such, the council members decided to convene in Canpast near Northbay about the fiefs.

Claude and Bolonik left Polyvisia on the 20th of the 8th month for Northbay. They took their troops along because they wanted to reorganise in Northbay. Eiblont asked Claude for some reinforcements as countless mounted bandits showed up following Canas' extermination. The towns Thundercrash guarded would often come under their raids. Eiblont only had a temporary folk with him, so he was already doing his best to keep Northbay secured.

Monolith would remain stationed in Polyvisia. Claude, however, left with the extra supplies and all the captives. Word from the royal capital was the royal guard, Reddragon and Griffon were being reorganised on a massive scale, now that the ministry of the army had the funding. The king compensated the old nobility and took in Reddragon and Griffon under the wing of the ministry once more.

Most of the nobles who gained fiefs left the three main corps to join the ones their houses formed, greatly decreasing their influence in the kingdom's military. The king and the court paid quite a high price to achieve that result.

Rumour in the royal capital was that Reddragon would be sent to the Nasrian region to take over Thundercrash and Monolith in Polyvisia, whereas Griffon would be stationed at Audin Mountain Range to guard the eastern pass of the kingdom. The royal guard would remain in the royal capital and Ibnist Plains. There was also news that the king wanted to reform Bluefeather and use it to guard Whitestag and the coastal areas, but that came under severe flak by the ministers, who saw Bluefeather as traitors that shouldn't be reformed.

Chapter 525 - The Council's Three Demands

Canas had always been a rather unique nation. Not only was it the only one situated entirely in a large plain, even the house of Duke Canas was formed by itself. The Canasian bloodline didn't follow a strict noble lineage either. Instead, the tribe chief that emerged victorious in the tribal wars would automatically become the duke.

The dukedom's succession had for centuries been amidst bloody conflict. However, the last two successions had passed peacefully. It was thanks to a legend in Canasian history, the Kemdo tribe chief, Jamiarde Dolbaji Kemdo.

Jamiarde travelled across most of Freia in his youth before returning to take up the mantle as tribe chief. He was the first chief to use firearms in his militia forces on a large scale, eventually conquering other smaller tribes to form his major tribe. At the age of 54, he finally earned the title of Duke of Canas.

After becoming Duke of Canas, Jamiarde changed the nomadic lifestyle of his tribe. He began to clear out new land and built Beaumarisburg, his castle, for his tribesmen to settle down and live a life of agriculture. He also formed trading convoys to trade with neighbouring nations, building a good relationship with Nasri and sending his son there to study once he reached the age of 16.

Jamiarde ruled as duke for fourteen years. Apart from building Beaumarisburg and changing the lifestyle of the Kemdo tribe, he focused the rest of his efforts on fighting other tribes on the grassland, targeting other large tribes until they submitted. His son succeeded him without much trouble. From then on, no tribe on the plains dared to fight for the title of duke.

The new duke was the eldest son of Jamiarde, Baldur Dolbaji Kemdo, who was sent to the Nasrian Royal Military College from a young age. He was the second wise ruler of Canas. Interestingly, despite going to the royal military college in Nasri, he behaved more like a merchant. He developed the Northbay area over the next 20 years, making it the largest port in Eastern Freia and the source of Canas' riches. They easily gathered enough wealth from trade alone to rival the yield of three large gold mines.

Baldur would eventually be known as Kemdo II. He built a city near the coasts of Northbay, Canpast. His last days were spent in the city and eventually people saw Canpast as Canas' second capital. The duke lived in Canpast for 22 years before his death, upon which his son succeeded him without incident.

While Kemdo III wasn't as much of a schemer as his grandfather, nor as wise as his father, he was a fair ruler. He managed the Great Plains of Canas well, maintaining the prosperity his predecessors had achieved. The only mistake he made was not shaking off the sinking ship that was Canas, resulting in him having to flee to Nasri with his family following his duchy's annexation.

Kemdo III had ruled for 24 years before his fall and his brightest moment was during the five-year war when he mobilised all his light-cavalry under his direct leadership to launch a surprise attack on the three Aueran corps, and winning. Aueras was forced to sue for peace in the aftermath of that defeat.

Eiblont had just finished his report on the duke. As he had been stationed in the Great Plains of Canas for the past half year, he had nothing better to do than sift through the Canasian archives. In a way, he was doing it out of desperation. He was trying to search for information about the ethereal mounted bandits. Perhaps some other nomadic tribe was merely masquerading as bandits.

"Canas isn't split into prefectures. The vast expanses of the plains are too sparsely populated to make that structure viable. Even worse, the featureless plains make demarking borders almost impossible. It was simply divided into five rough areas, four smaller ones and a larger, main one. The most famous minor area is Northbay, with a port city and three towns. It is considered the centre of commerce. Second to it is the nominal capital, Beaumaris, the agricultural and food hub of the duchy. The farmers rely on the irrigation provided by the three rivers.

"Another minor area is the Ligmada Hills, the centre of mining. The mines don't have gold, silver, or copper. They're all base-metal mines and a single stone quarry. There is also an open-air blackstone quarry, or, as Claude would call it, a coal quarry. The blackstone there is good quality and burns with little smoke. The Canasians use ground blackstone powder for cooking and warmth.

"The last minor area is Green Hills. It's mostly just rural expanses. It's where the vast majority of the old Canasian nobles live. I took two lines to sweep the region, but the nobles are dead broke. We got less than 30 thousand crowns. As for the major area, it refers to the Great Plains itself. Anywhere with endless fields of grass is considered part of it."

Eiblont continued his introduction of the Great Plains. Bolonik was captured by the scenery, the tall grass looked like a large, endless green carpet. He took his horse for a ride at one point.

"Where are we going? Beaumarisburg or Northbay?"

"Northbay," Eiblont answered with certainty, "The sun, the beach, good food and beautiful, understanding women are there. It's peak summer now. We can take a break for a few days on the pier while we wait for Ironclad to arrive. The seawater is blue, you know, not dark red like along Nubissia's coasts.

"We all know the colour is just because of a mineral in the water, but I do like blue water more than red water. The place is a paradise. If not for the annoying bandits, I would stay here for the rest of my life."

"Is it really that good?" Claude asked light heartedly.

"Yes!" Eiblont swore seriously, "I found out why Kemdo II stayed in Northbay when I stayed there. Beaumarisburg is a military citadel at its heart. It's dark and cold. No amount of luxury can take away the depressing feeling the place has. That's why I stationed most of my men in Canpast and left only a tribe of cavalrymen in Beaumarisburg."

Claude and Bolonik arrived in Canpast under Eiblont's lead. Canpast was just as Eiblont had boasted; a beautiful port city. There were goods from all over Freia as well as some goods produced at the Nubissian western coast. The products from both continents were sold there, making Canpast a rather prosperous city.

"It is indeed a great place," Claude praised, liking the free-trade-like atmosphere himself quite a lot. The only inadequacy he felt was the lack of city planning. The buildings and roads were small and tight. While they looked refined, they were not wide enough, giving off a rather claustrophobic feel.

The military encampment was located outside the city. Claude and Bolonik, on the other hand, would be living into the main city mansion. In the couple of days before Ironclad arrived, Claude hurriedly busied himself with arranging the council meeting to discuss the enfeoffment. Only after all that was done did he disband his troops and reform Thundercrash 1st and 2nd Folks.

Two days later, Birkin and Myjack came with Thundercrash 3rd Folk and the reformed Thundercrash 4th Folk to Canpast, escorting the family members of 4th Folk's soldiers as well. They moved into the encampment. When Ironclad finally arrived with the council members and honorary nobles from the region, it also escorted transport ships with supplies for the troops. They would then return with the families of 4th Folk to the region and settle them down.

Claude worked hard for two days before leaving the rest of the busywork to his subordinates. Then, he went to the beach to relax with Eiblont, Bolonik and Birkin for a day. Like Eiblont mentioned, the blue ocean did seem to encourage a better mood than the dark-red ocean did. Just as they were finished playing in the sea and about to go get some dinner, a pillar of green smoke appeared in the distance. Ironclad finally reached Northbay.

Claude suddenly noticed that his judgement of character was still not up to par.

Since the enfeoffment policy was announced during the 1st of the 6th month, Claude had a rather pessimistic view of the region's future. He thought people were selfish in nature, and that the council members would definitely fall for the king's obvious ploy and leap for the chance of a fief. He believed Fredrey I and the masterminds of the plan in court were counting on that to happen.

Unlike the autonomous region, Freia was the centre of the world. If the council members got a fief of their own there, they would definitely siphon all their attention, effort and resources to their own fiefs. The region would no doubt lose their central pillars to the kingdom and crumble without an attack. The day the region returned to being just a colony of the kingdom seemed close.

Those were the thoughts Claude had always harboured in his heart. He never believed the council members would be that selfless and put the interests of the region as a whole before their own. He and Bolonik hadn't picked land before the others so the council members knew he was willing to stand in solidarity with them and the soldiers. He wasn't opposed to them getting their own fiefs, so long as they didn't give their fiefs everything and give up on developing the region.

However, he forgot a crucial point. The council members who were able to develop the desolate lands of the region with nothing but their own resourcefulness and become powerful local businessmen or influential people were all cunning and sharp-witted fellows.

On the way to Northbay, they had already decided that they wanted the fiefs, but they wouldn't be giving up their power base in the region over them. Most importantly, most of the council members were commoner merchants. To them, a hereditary fief wasn't nearly as important as their repute, businesses and connections in the region.

That was the core difference between commoner merchants and nobles. To traditional nobles, obtaining hereditary fiefs was of utmost importance. They had to get one no matter the price. But the council members evaluated this matter from a business viewpoint. They didn't really care about the yield those fiefs would generate nor the power over the subjects in their fiefs, but rather, the reputation of their household business and the potential profit their company could rake in.

Skri even blatantly told Claude and the rest they were most worried about the rewarded soldiers of the two corps picking their own fiefs before the council arrived. That would definitely cause a rift of distrust between the council and the administration, and they would no longer be able to negotiate with the king as a single entity. They finally breathed a sigh of relief when they saw that nobody had accepted any fiefs yet.

Claude finally relaxed. For everyone to share the same awareness of the matter was the best he could ask for. Eiblont, however, was curious what Skri meant about negotiating with the king. Skri said that the council members thought that 300 thousand crowns to be promoted to hereditary barons followed by another 100 thousand for a fief was too huge a price to pay, so they hoped to negotiate for better prices.

While each of the council members could afford to fork out 400 thousand crowns themselves, the thought of there being 112 of them as well as those who already had honorary Titles, to begin with, bothered them. The fact that the king could stand to gain over 40 million crowns from them was outright distasteful.

They felt as if their life's work was going to the king and the court for a fief. Who knows how long it would take before they could earn that investment back? The costs to develop those fiefs was by no means small, so they came to the decision that if the king wasn't willing to compromise, they would all refuse the fiefs and keep their honorary baron Titles.

While it wasn't a big deal if only one person refused the offer, it was a whole different story if all the honorary nobles of the region refused. No matter what kind of discount they asked for, there was at least 20 million crowns to be earned. The king would definitely not rest well, knowing that he would be missing out on that money. The power base of the region was in Nubissia anyway, so there was no way the king could take his anger out on the council members at all.

As merchants and business owners, the council members were more concerned with what the fiefs could produce and whether they could start new factories instead of worrying about squeezing their subjects for the last copper coin. That was the key difference between them and the old nobility.

Having a hereditary fief in Eastern Freia also meant they would have to worry about security. Just because they had a fief didn't mean all would go well. The squabbles between landed nobles and ill management of their fiefs were all too common. That's why the council members want their fiefs to be concentrated in one area so they could ally up to defend their own interests.

"Let's hear your demands then," Claude said, curious about their opinions.

Bernard raised his wine glass with his one-remaining arm and emptied its contents in one gulp. "We have three demands. First, we want His Majesty to allocate fiefs to all of us in one contiguous area so we can help each other out. Second, all fees are to be reduced by half, or we will refuse the Title and fief altogether. Lastly, we want to have at least one port in that joined fief for convenience of communication with the autonomous region."

Claude shook his head. "It's a shame that there is no longer a fief with a port that isn't already claimed by the other nobles."

There were now 768 noble houses that received fiefs. While it was only a third of the Nasrian region's area, the fiefs were scattered across the 28 prefectures at the best places. It was difficult to combine all the fiefs of the nobles from the region. At the very least, they would have to move away more than ten fiefs of other nobles to achieve that feat.

Bernard looked at the beautiful beach scenery in deep thought. "Actually... I think this is a rather fine place..."

Chapter 526 - Solidarity of Victors

Claude felt like the meeting was held in the wrong place. All the council members couldn't be more carefree. It was no different from going on a trip at the company's expense. It was a rare sightseeing trip overseas, so they naturally had to pay out of their own pockets for their entertainment. They were not there to party, after all. Rather than focusing on discussing how to get new fiefs, they were even more enthusiastic about meeting new friends and learning more about the state of trade in Northbay, as well as surveying other business opportunities.

Within three short days during the meeting that was held under the blue, cloudy skies of the beach, Claude found that his unmarried subordinates who were created honorary barons were busy settling their marriage to the daughters and siblings of the council members. Each of them were well raised and beautiful. They also came with a decent dowry, so marrying them was all profit and no loss.

On the official start date of the meeting on the 12th of the 9th month, Claude felt as if the grand meeting was nothing more than a joke. The council members merely spoke a few pleasantries while the honorary nobles did nothing but clap.

That was because the main agenda of the meeting was passed on the first day itself. The soldiers that were created honorary nobles would have their elevation fees sponsored by the region as gratitude for their service.

It was wonderful news for the soldiers and officers. Unlike the rich council members who could easily pay 400 thousand crowns, those soldiers didn't have much savings, being rather avid spenders themselves. Surprisingly, not many could take out ten thousand crowns despite the spoils having just been split.

The region's sponsorship was a godsend to them. Otherwise, they would have to go to the overseas bank for a loan to get their own fiefs. There was no guarantee they would be able to repay it with the yield generated from their fiefs either. They might even go bankrupt and lose their fief, on top of being debt ridden.

Naturally, there was one condition that came with it. The ones sponsored would have to take the side of the nobles in the negotiations. Either they all got hereditary fiefs or continued to live on as honorary nobles together. There would be no gathering funds personally to beg the kingdom to grant them a fief, and anyone that did would automatically be expelled from the region. All their property in the region would be confiscated and their family members would be exiled.

The soldiers immediately agreed to the condition and expressed their solidarity with the council members. Claude and Skri exchanged glances, balking at how easily the soldiers danced to the council's tune. It appeared their greatest fault was not being rich enough to decide their own futures, so they had to accept what they were given. While Claude, Skri, and a couple others were already hereditary nobles, they stood with the council.

The council wouldn't lose out on this deal. They had come to a decision to let the overseas bank pay for the soldier's promotions and other honorary nobles with the council members sharing half the cost. In other words, they wanted the king to first cut the price in half. The bank would then foot half of the rest of the cost, so the council members only really had to cover a quarter of the original fees.

The overseas bank would count the fees as part of the developmental funds for the region. Once the nobles and soldiers got their fiefs, they would hand it to the council for a decade or more of development and management. They would then receive benefits in the form of dividends.

Only when the region's nobles united could they stand a chance in negotiating with the king. If they were given a single, unified fief, they could standardise it to maximise their gains.

The council was planning to bind the fiefs together into a single administrative region. They would develop it like any other part of the region. Dividends would only be given up after investments and taxes to the kingdom were deducted. They didn't really care what the other members did in their fiefs as long as it didn't interfere with their administration and the economic output of the area.

"We will demand to be given Northbay. Everyone's fiefs will be here. Does anyone have an objection?" Bernard yelled as he slammed the desk loudly.

Nobody had an objection. They broke into loud cheers and applause.

The chairman of the mining association, Henderman, stood up and made the announcement in his cultured, refined voice.

"His Majesty will have to agree to our demands for the price cut. There is no way we'll give out the wealth we earned over half our lifetimes for a piece of grassland. Our efforts must be repaid with satisfactory rewards! Otherwise, we would rather not have anything to do with land on Freia."

Another round of applause and cheers, some even yelled their support for the chairman's decision. Even some council members passionately proclaimed that if the king didn't agree to the region's demands, they would willingly disavow their honorary Titles, since the position of council member of the region was far more prestigious.

"It really is a feverous atmosphere. The masses are so easily infected," Skri said calmly.

"We're not against it, are we?" Claude asked, "In fact, we're all too happy to see it go this way."

Skri chuckled.

"Of course. Unlike the two-faced nobles, I much prefer the folk here. They at least keep their word, know their limits, like order, and lack excessive ambition. While they are a profit-loving bunch, they at least do things according to the rules, unlike the mainland nobles, who're too fond of throwing their weight around. They believe they're superior to everyone else and ignorant of their rotten hearts."

"You're as noble hating as always. Don't forget you're a noble now, as well," Claude nipped, "Your descendants might become the very kind of nobles you so love to hate now. I don't like nobles, but I don't particularly like these folks either. They're merchants, and merchants are the least deserving of trust. They'd sell even their parents for profit. If the reward is great enough, they'll no doubt find ways to get around regulations and go even further than traditional nobles. You just haven't seen that side of them yet."

"You're talking in extremes. Heartless, shameless people lacking morals are present in all social classes, but they're not the norm. If they were, the world would have fallen into ruin long ago," Skri argued, "As far as I'm concerned, I only have to be a little careful about my wallet around these folks. But when dealing with nobles, I have to watch for their poisoned daggers and arrows all the time. If His Majesty gave me a fief near the nobles', I would have to sleep with my eyes open. My safety and that of my family would always be threatened."

It was Count Godic, the chief supervisor of the overseas bank's turn to give a speech. His honorary viscount Title was finally elevated to honorary count after two decades, saving him at least 20 thousand crowns in fees.

"We brought 30 million crowns with us in 60 large chests. Each is so big it requires a firm four-wheeled carriage and four strong workhorses to move. We will ship the chests to the royal capital to be opened in front of the king and the ministers and dazzle them with the sheen of the golden crowns.

"Then, we'll tell them this is all the wealth the region has to offer. As long as they agree to our demands, we'll donate the 30 million crowns to the king and the court. If they refuse, we'll return to the region with all 60 chests and never ask for Titles or fiefs again."

"What if they hold us back to rob us of that money?" someone asked a rather childish question.

"Hahahaha!" many a council member broke out laughing.

"Good question..." Viscount Godic didn't laugh. He clapped his hands instead. "Instead, you should be asking why we dare to bring 30 million crowns to the court. It's simple. Our two corps, Thundercrash and Monolith, are the reason we're so daring. The king and ministers wouldn't dare to lust for it, for they know that they will be declaring war against the region if they dare snatch that money from us."

Godic pointed at the clapping soldiers and said, "With our brave warriors, we don't even have to worry about the safety of the money! Nobody can touch our money without paying a huge price, not even the king!"

The crowd went crazy as the soldiers stood up and slammed their chests passionately, showing their dedication to the cause and how they wouldn't let the trust of the region down. They swore they would defend the money to their deaths.

"I should get this guy to give pre-battle speeches instead," Claude mused, "I knew I shouldn't have shipped those reserves back to the region in that case. Isn't it pointless that you had to ship them back?"

"No, we didn't touch the ones you shipped back," Skri said, "We picked some rather fine specimens from the Canasian, Rimodran, Sidinsian and Nasrian coins as mementos. Those nations are gone now and their coins won't ever be minted again. We destroyed the casting moulds they used to mint them as well.

"The 30 million crowns we shipped here are fresh mints using the reserves in our bank. Initially, we planned to distribute them across the kingdom's markets for the dealings here in an effort to crush the monopolies of the old nobility. However, we're temporarily using them to pay for the elevation and fief-picking fees."

"Then how much money do we still have in the bank's reserves?"

"Don't worry. Coupled with the batch you shipped back, we have more than 20 million crowns in reserves. We even distributed three million crowns to the four shipyards in Port Patres for another four ironclad patrol ships, twelve ironclad destroyers and six ironclad transport ships to be built. We'll have a second ironclad fleet come next year," Skri said.

"I've decided to make another military reform next year," Claude revealed, "I need some funds to form experimental units and explore the effectiveness of untested tactics. The rifle-and-cannon combination of our forces is a little awkward. We're no longer using old musket squads any more, so there's no need to stick to traditional unit structures.

"Last year during our battles with the Union's army, I felt that using one folk against an enemy corps is a little too much, but using one line is far too little. Additionally, we also got so many new generals from the promotions. Apart from five or six who decided to retire, the rest are still young and strong. They need new positions, so--"

"It's fine as long as it's kept within a million crowns, unless you intend to form a whole new unit and recruit new troops," Skri interrupted.

"No, Thundercrash already has four folks of 150 thousand men. Don't you think our region is spending a little too much on the military? We'll be retiring some veterans during the latter half of this year and won't be drafting new recruits. I plan to form the experimental units from our existing pool of men. That way, we will be able to see good results within half a year.

"By the way, Monolith will be switching out with another folk that's stationed in the region now. We'll have to downsize and retire veterans as well. There's no need to keep it at three folks out of wartime. However, Birkin requested one of Monolith's folks to be changed into a light-cavalry folk. Now that we control the Great Plains of Canas, that shouldn't be hard to do."

Skri nodded. "Alright, got it. We'll go with your plans in military matters."

Currently, the council was discussing their second agenda: how the fiefs would be split in among the rest. It was rather simple. Apart from Claude and Bolonik, the rest could only elevate up to hereditary barons at most. They would be no different from Skri, Eiblont and Birkin, who were already hereditary barons.

As such, Claude's fief would be located in Canpast. As a hereditary count of the kingdom, he was befitting of such an honour. Bolonik's fief, on the other hand, would be situated in Beaumarisburg. A hereditary viscount like him was at least deserving of that. As for Eiblont and Birkin's fiefs, the two towns near the pier of Northbay were ideal. Skri was the most farsighted of them all and picked a town in Ligmada Hills that produced blackstone.

All the other council members and entitled soldiers were honorary nobles. The two hundred plus of them would have their fiefs situated in Canas' Northbay area. The lands between Beaumarisburg's agricultural area and Ligmada Hills' mining area were all split clean. They even encroached upon the Great Plains of Canas a little.

The method to pick the fiefs was rather fair. They would be drawing lots for them. With Claude and the other four not having to draw, they supervised the process to ensure fairness. It was all down to luck. Nobody really cared whether the land was good or not, anyway, since the region would be in charge of the uniform development of the area. There was no need to worry about administering the fiefs themselves.

Naturally, those dissatisfied with the fiefs they were assigned were free to trade with others. For instance, those who wished to run a farmstead but got fiefs in mountainous regions could swap out for fiefs on the plains. All they had to do after that was to remember the number of the mark of their fiefs to pick out the one they liked at the royal capital.

After a grand feast, they rested for a bit before resuming the meeting. There was only one thing left to discuss: the ones to represent them in the negotiations with the king and the court. Bolonik and Skri would be tagging along to represent the military and half the council would be going. Bernard, Godic and Henderman were also picked.

Weyblon was asked to remain as the temporary chairman of the council to make future developmental plans for the fiefs, such as a unified transportation system and how their investments would be distributed.

Claude, Eiblont and Birkin stayed behind to standby as well as to bury the mounted bandits that kept showing up on the Great Plains of Canas.

Chapter 527 - Fief Picks

Bolonik, Skri and the council members selected to go to the royal capital left two days later. Claude sent an independent line from Thundercrash to be their escort. Not only did they have to protect the representatives, they also had to ensure the 60 chests filled with coins were safe.

Back in the royal capital, word was that the king and his court were on cloud nine over the council members' arrival, having had their blades sharpened and ready to slaughter the fat sheep on their way. Some well-connected people revealed that most of the richer nobles had already gathered the funds they needed to pay the elevation fee and pick their fiefs.

While there were quite a few nobles that remained in the capital, they were mostly fallen ones who couldn't gather the funds. Usually, they weren't eligible for high-interest loans because they didn't have good credit and the ability to pay the loans back. While near 900 noble houses had already obtained fiefs, many had relied on their connections, especially the branch families of the royal family, for the enfeoffment, so the financial benefits weren't as ideal as the king had imagined.

Coupled with the cost of retaking the rights to Griffon and Reddragon as well as the reparations for the old nobility's losses in the war over the last several years, the national treasury wasn't as filled as it could be, despite no longer being dangerously empty like before. They still lacked quite a bit to go forward with Blancarte's proposal to revive the kingdom.

Additionally, Fredrey I's wife, Queen Christie, took out five million crowns from the national treasury to offer loans and even asked the king to let her renovate the palace. Fredrey I, now having quite a sum of money in his hands, approved a budget of two million crowns for the renovation efforts. Blancarte was so angry at that amount. A project with that kind of budget was no mere renovation, it was a complete revamp!

The sum of fees paid by the 900 plus noble houses wasn't as much as the king and prime minister had initially imagined, mainly because 500 among them were already hereditary nobles from as far back as three centuries ago. While Stellin IX hanged and executed most of the hereditary nobles during the Reformation, there were still that many that managed to survive and propagate. All they had to do to get fiefs was pay a picking fee.

Despite that, the king only managed to make 20 million crowns, as the royal family's blood relations enjoyed the privilege of picking their fiefs for free. As for some other members of the old nobility, they had rendered service to the kingdom and deserved a discount. The king had to honour their contributions.

Apart from those nobles were the trigenerational nobles who only had to pay to elevate their Titles to hereditary and a picking fee. They also demanded discounts based on their connections and contributions. Despite the less-lenient allowances, the king only got ten million crowns or so from them.

Lastly were the 200 honorary nobles who wanted fiefs. They should've been the ones to be taken advantage of the most based on the plan. Yet, thanks to the various loans, the one offered by the queen included, the court only received 20 million crowns despite the recorded 40 million on paper. The rest could only be paid back in due time.

Even so, the 50 or so million crowns received was an unprecedented amount of wealth for the king and his prime minister. The thought of them having gone to war with Nasri over a mere debt of eight million crowns and almost got exterminated thanks to the interference from the Union was nothing short of depressing.

But before the high from receiving all that money wore down, various debtors already lined up to meet them. First, there was the salary they owed the soldiers and officials. Then, there were the promissory notes of Stellin XI's loans from the nobles, as well as the debts owed by the court for purchasing various resources.

Since they had the money now, they were a little more generous. A quick settlement of the debt saw nearly ten million deducted from their total. The prime minister then reminded the king to hold fast onto the troops, so he spent another ten million crowns on funding for the ministry of the army to start reorganising the three corps, clearing out most unqualified nobles from their ranks and taking the corps under direct command of the royal family.

Lastly, the old nobility, king, and prime minister held a council to peacefully negotiate the reparations for their losses in supporting Fredrey I's ascension to the throne. Once both sides reached a satisfactory settlement, the king and prime minister only noticed that they had less than ten million crowns remaining.

That was why the prime minister was so salty over the approval of a budget of two million crowns for the palace's renovation. However, it had weathered many a battle since Stellin X's time and did look to be in rather bad shape, so the prime minister couldn't exactly stop the king and queen from doing so no matter how unhappy he was with it. He could only figure out another way to gather the funds required to revitalise the kingdom's economy.

The hundreds of honorary nobles that still remained in the royal capital were mostly broke paupers who relied on their Titles for some cheap gains here and there in the city. During the kingdom's time of crisis, they were completely nowhere to be seen. However, the moment the enfeoffment policy was announced, they flocked to the royal capital immediately. Even though they didn't have the money, they wanted to try their luck to see whether they could find some investors to gather the capital needed for their own fiefs.

Two ministers of the court even wanted to punish the noble and commoner tycoons using it as an excuse, only to be stopped by Blancarte. What he wanted now wasn't to humiliate the noble class, but rather sell more Titles and fiefs to gather funds. As far as the kingdom was concerned, it didn't care who those honorary nobles sourced their funds from for their fiefs. The reason there were so many honorary nobles in Aueras was many of them were former hereditary nobles who had fallen from grace.

Their Titles degraded from hereditary, trigenerational all the way to honorary as their descendants grew more and more incompetent one generation after another. Now, they were only honorary nobles, and their children would be of the peasant class. This was one way the incompetent were weeded out from the peerage. The enfeoffment policy was a prime chance for the kingdom's nobles and if they didn't grasp it, there was no longer a need to bother keeping their sinking ships afloat.

Now, the king and prime minister were more concerned with the council members and soldiers from the region that were created honorary nobles. They were hoping they would come to the royal capital quickly to pay their fees to line the private pockets of the king as well as the national treasury. The autonomous region was rich and prosperous. Thundercrash and Monolith's sweep through Eastern Freia alone probably earned them tens of millions of crowns.

They were the fattened sheep for which the king was really gunning. He even promised the prime minister he wouldn't offer them any favours and would follow the stipulated fees to the letter. They had already estimated they could easily make over 50 million crowns from the region's honorary nobles alone, and that amount would completely fulfil the requirements of the prime minister's plan.

But two months had passed and no word had come from the region. Even Thundercrash and Monolith's entitled soldiers in Polyvisia didn't seem the least bit interested. They calmly watched as the other nobles travelled to the region and took their pick.

Just as the two were wondering why Claude, Bolonik, and Birkin hadn't picked their fiefs yet as the good places in the Nasrian region vanished one after the other and were about to send someone to remind them that it would be first come first serve, news came that Thundercrash had set out for the Great Plains of Canas.

What in the world was the corps doing? Even if they were moving, they should at least give notice to the ministry of the army! But when word came that they were ridding the plains of mounted bandits, the king and prime minister felt relieved. It appeared they had been forced to send reinforcements to the Thundercrash units stationed on the Canasian plains.

Then came news of the meeting held by the council. The king and prime minister finally smiled their worries away. If not for the fiefs, the honorary nobles of the region definitely wouldn't come. It seemed the kingdom was going to get their money after all.

After another grueling wait, the region's soldiers and council members finally set off for the capital with a light-cavalry line from Thundercrash as an escort as well as a large transport convoy that seemed to be transporting heavy goods. However, they were rather secretive and the informants couldn't find out what they were transporting.

So, the king and prime minister patiently waited for their arrival and sharpened their blades, only to find that the convoy seemed entirely unhurried, stopping from time to time to sightsee and resting for a day at every town they stopped in for the council members to survey the local market and their prices.

The ministers in the royal court mocked the region's council as country bumpkins with little life experience. Perhaps they thought good fiefs were still plenty and abundant. Even if they paid the elevation fee, they would merely get a piece of desolate land if they didn't pay the picking fee. Surely they would understand that once they reached the royal capital only to find that there were no more good places in Nasri to be picked from.

The region's convoy travelled a whole 23 days before arriving at the capital's gates. Prime Minister Blancarte himself welcomed them. While Bolonik seemed quite aloof, the council were shocked by the high-class treatment they were being given. However, Blancarte maintained his humble air and didn't throw his weight around as he interacted with the council members all the while his eyes darted around for fleshy targets to skin.

The reception and banquet went really well. After another day's rest, the audience with the king was held on the third day of their arrival. Bolonik represented the military sector of the region while Bernard represented the administrative council to present a gift to Fredrey I and Christie. After thanking the king for granting them honorary Titles, the king and queen engaged in a friendly exchange with the council members and soldiers of the region.

The king treated them to a feast at midday and thanked them for defeating the greatest enemy the kingdom had ever faced, the Union, and contributing much to the kingdom. However, the king and queen couldn't join the feast and left after their speech, leaving only Blancarte behind with the country bumpkins.

After lunch was finished, the prime minister took the rest on a stroll in the royal gardens before leaving the gardens. It was only then when the formalities were over. The king and prime minister were awaiting the negotiations with the bumpkins about their fiefs.

What they didn't expect was how not a single person from the region came knocking their doors and asking about the matter in the next couple days. Instead, they were busy visiting their associates and friends as well as reaching out to their contacts in the business sector, busy finding new business opportunities. They even managed to sign a few trade agreements, securing multiple lucrative deals in the process.

Blancarte could feel his heart roasting from his burning impatience. The bumpkins actually came all the way from Nubissia to the royal capital to do business! Were they not the least bit interested in the fiefs? It was impossible; having noble Titles was a great boon to business in the kingdom. Didn't they understand that honorary noble Titles were the lowest and most useless of the three types?

Blancarte happened to hear that Henderman of the mining association booked the most luxurious tavern, Swanhall, for a banquet to thank his fellow associates for their cooperation in business. So, Blancarte invited one of Henderman's associates over and asked him to remind him to not miss out the chance to pick a fief while the option was still available.

The prime minister waited restlessly till eleven at night for the slightly drunk merchant associate to return. He said he did bring up the matter, but Henderman merely patted his shoulder to thank him for the kind reminder. However, his reply was that most of the good fiefs in Nasri had already been taken, so those from the region, him included, didn't want a fief at all.

How could it be possible? The kingdom was counting on them to make a killing! Blancarte couldn't just let them go back to the region without paying a single coin! It would be the ultimate humiliation for him as prime minister! Blancarte immediately reported that to Fredrey I. The two had a discussion till daybreak before begrudgingly deciding to ask which locations the council members liked and agree to their picks if they could. They had to get their wealth no matter the cost!

And so, Blancarte received a map of the Canasian region, much to his flabbergastment. "I see that they already have a plan all along, having even marked the lands beforehand and even having a name list ready. These bumpkins really are sneaky. And there I thought they weren't interested in fiefs at all... I almost fell for it."

However, when the map was submitted to the court and the king, the ministers exploded before the king could say anything. "This is unfair, Your Majesty! Your Majesty said that the enfeoffment would only include the Nasrian region, not the Great Plains of Canas or Northbay! Otherwise, the other nobles would've picked their fiefs there instead!

"If we agree to these bumpkins' demands, Your Majesty would lose the favour of the kingdom's nobles! Your Majesty's words might not hold any weight in the future!"

Though Blancarte's face contorted with pain, there was nothing he could do about it but speak on the bumpkin's behalf. Those bumpkins had said they would rather not get fiefs at all, so he had to do so for the sake of their money. So, he engaged in a fierce argument with his fellow colleagues.

In the end, the king agreed to the picks of the region, but demanded a much higher picking fee.

Chapter 528 - Bandit Extermination

Claude thought he had long since become used to this world's barbarism, but he had only just discovered its true, horrific extent.

"Lord Militant, the sweep is complete. We found more than 1300 sets of goods belonging to the town of Machalin. Many of the goods reported missing are also bloodstained. We even found some things taken from the town hall with the nightingale emblem of Machalin. And the abducted townsfolk, but..."

Masonhughes paused for a good, tragic moment.

"The women are still alive. The men in the tribe need to vent their pent-up energy and have them give birth to new young for the tribe. However, only a few young men were kept alive as slaves. The captured elderly were all killed the moment they were brought to the tribe as the tribe needed to use their skulls as drinking bowls."

There had been a bandit raid on the town of Machalin near Ligmada Hills a few days earlier. The bandits were gone by the time Thundercrash finally reached the town. Machalin was left in ruins, less than half its population of three thousand still alive. All in all, 400 were missing or dead. Without a doubt, the bandits had taken them away.

Enraged at his territory being so blatantly violated, Claude immediately sent his best men after them. After half a month of searching, they finally found the middle-sized tribe, some thousand strong. After a rather anticlimactic battle and paying for their victory with three deaths and a hundred injured, the line of cavalry troops took the settlement.

Claude was initially quite curious why the list of missing people from Machalin included old men in their fifties and above. Were the bandits going to feed the elderly? He didn't expect their skulls were considered kitchenware.

"I recall there are travelling merchants all over Northbay selling daily necessities. This tribe can definitely trade for wooden and copper bowls with furs and leather. The bowls are cheap and well made. Why would they do something so cruel?" an officer asked.

"I've interrogated the captives. They said it's a tribal custom," Masonhughes replied, "The nomadic tribes on the Great Plains think the older a person gets, the wiser they became. So, they kill the elderly in their tribes as they near death to use their skulls as bowls. They believe they will inherit their knowledge and become wiser.

"However, they don't have that many old people in their tribes to begin with, so they love to kidnap elderly from nearby towns. The victims have to be alive while they make the bowls. Apparently the pain is supposed to infuse their knowledge into the skull bone."

"What a disgusting and foolish custom. Do they think they can inherit knowledge without any effort? How abhorrent!" another officer yelled.

"Actually, not all nomadic tribes on the plains share these barbaric customs. For example, the Kemdo tribe is among the first to live in permanent settlements. After they occupied the business sector of Northbay and developed the mining centre in Ligmada Hills and agricultural centre near Beaumarisburg, they also introduced basic education. Half the other nomadic tribes have also abandoned such old, pointless customs.

"Perhaps only the few that kept their nomadic lifestyle would keep such a barbaric custom. They believe that the settled nomads were traitors to their wolf god, thinking themselves as wolves that had to travel the plains nonstop instead of sitting and watching their homes like normal guard dogs. That's why they don't see the settled tribes as their own, but rather, as sworn enemies. They won't show them any mercy," explained Masonhughes.

Claude stood up and stepped out of his tent. Smiling to his officers, he said, "Back then, the tribal chief of Kemdo, Jamiarde Dolbaji Kemdo, had travelled much through Freia in his youth with merchants to develop his knowledge before he returned to institute those reforms, making Kemdo among the first of the major tribes.

"After three generations, around six decades, the Kemdo became civilised like us in stark contrast to their barbarian brethren. Now, however, we are the victors. We don't have six decades to civilise these barbarians, so we can only tolerate what they did. Masonhughes!"

"Lord Militant, what are your orders?!"

"I heard the tribes kill the elderly and only take the women and children after swallowing up smaller tribes. Is that custom commonplace?" Claude asked, narrowing his eyes to look into the distant plains.

The battles there had ended. Thundercrash's men could be seen gathering the captives, with some of them dismounting and delivering a stab to the enemy corpses on the ground.

"Yes, Lord Militant. The nomadic tribes only keep captives useful to them. Young women will be kept to birth and nurse their young. Young children shorter than a wheel will be kept and raised into loyal slave warriors, for they won't remember much and won't hold grudges. Children taller than a wheel are deemed to be able to hold grudges, so taking them in is akin to sowing seeds of hate for the tribe and nurturing them, so they kill most of them off," Masonhughes explained.

"Good. As newcomers to the plains, we have to respect their customs. Give the order to deal with their captives the way they do theirs. Men taller than a wheel are to be beheaded, no, shot. It's more civilised. As for women and children, hand them to the victims of Machalin as reparations for their suffering," Claude ordered coldly.

"Uh... Lord Militant... I..." Masonhughes seemed to want to say something else, but he snapped alert when he saw Claude's expression. "Yes, Sir!"

The atmosphere was tense, with Claude having just given such a merciless order. Even his officers found it a little out of character, as Claude had always been one to treat his captives fairly. During the colonial wars, Claude had said that fighting and dying in battle was the duty of a soldier, but after the fight, they should be tolerant of their captives as the victor. They should do no more than what was minimally required of their duties.

But the report of the skull drinking bowls made the officers understand the rationale behind that order of his. One simply had to speak the same language of cruelty the barbarians did to strike fear in them. Otherwise, one would be seen as weak. They wouldn't remember what tolerance had been shown to them and would only double down on the bullying and deception.

"I really don't know why the nomadic tribes would come here to attack Machalin. According to the town's survivors, they haven't been raided in more than three decades, so they were completely unprepared," one other officer said.

Claude turned to him and said, "I have an answer to that. Look at the map and you'll see how the shape of the Great Plains of Canas look like a large, green scar stretching outwards. Its area alone isn't any smaller than Nasri.

"The Duchy of Canas isn't a kingdom because the duke only really controls the coastal areas and the tip of the green scar. He doesn't hold control over the whole of the plains nor its depths.

"Deeper into the plains are where countless nomadic tribes roam. Duke Canas forms a trading convoy to trade daily necessities with them in exchange for the tribes to not attack the area under the duke's control.

"But ever since the duke fled, the agreement is as good as void. This tribe probably came because they thought the duke defaulted on the agreement, so they wanted to vent on the duke's subjects.

"Looks like we have to strengthen our defences and supervision over the area. I think there will be attacks from more tribes like this. If we don't give them a few harsh lessons and teach them fear, they will never give up on their riding blades. Only when they feel the hurt will they surrender and request peaceful trade talks with us."

"But Lord Militant, the bandits we deal with aren't all nomadic tribes. The more troublesome ones are the duke's former subordinates who hide among the populace and attack our isolated troops. It's really hard for us to sweep them out," one officer said.

"Let's take things step by step. That's another kind of battle not fit for soldiers like us. While the hidden bandits are harder to deal with, that doesn't mean we're helpless against them. The reason Thundercrash is stationed here in Northbay is to increase security and our control over traffic here. Haven't you noticed reports of bandit attacks have been decreasing?

"It's simple. The spies of the bandits within Northbay can't send information out thanks to our checkpoints, so the ones on the outside can only attack blind. Secondly, the smaller bandit bands are afraid of our military might and don't dare attack carelessly. We're temporarily ignoring the smaller bands because they only target out troops, not the civilians. We'll just sit and wait for them to come to our door for target practice.

"Additionally, this isn't our home turf. If things are going well in the kingdom and this part of the Canasian region becomes our fiefs, our region will invest a sum of money to develop this place. By then, we'll be able to transfer a few constable branches here for them to take out the covert bandit informants. With their help, there's no way the bandits can escape."

Upon mention of the fiefs, three riders could be seen approaching from afar. The one at the front dismounted quickly and handed a small leather bag to a guard that stopped him before heading for the stables with his other two comrades. They had to feed and water their worn-out horses.

The guard inspected the leather bag and handed it to Claude. Within it were two small, silver tubes containing eagle messages.

News from the royal capital came. Claude was three days on horseback away from Canpast and the letter from the royal capital was first delivered to Polyvisia and then Canpast by eagle. The whole delivery took around four to five days, so it was rather old news by the time it reached Claude.

However, he would be returning a day later now that the bandits responsible for Machalin's raid were dealt with. He relaxed and read the letter. The first stated that Prime Minister Blancarte had already heard the demands of the council members and soldiers. Bernard had also handed the list and map of the fiefs to him.

The letter was dated on the 28th of the 10th month of Year 601. It was already the 7th of the 11th month. Oddly, the letter was late by four days. However, he understood why when he looked at the second letter. It wasn't the fault of the receiver, but rather, the signaller waited until a response from the court was given before sending it along with the first letter.

The second later stated that Fredrey I and the ministers had a secret conference across three days and agreed to the fief locations. The commercial Northbay sector near the Canasian coast, the mining sector of Ligmada Hills and the agricultural Beumarisburg sector, as well as a part of the Great Plains of Canas, would be given to the region's nobles as fiefs.

However, the king stressed that it was an exception for the region's contributions in helping unite Eastern Freia. But to punish the council members for disobeying the king's orders and marking out their fiefs, the king decided to double the fief-picking fee.

Bernard said he decided he would start negotiations with the king during the grand summit on the 10th of the 11th month, because the king had refused to make concessions for the fees. A new estimation saw that the region would have to pay nearly 100 million crowns to get the fiefs they picked.

Not a single council member was willing to pay those exorbitant fees, angrily calling it a huge scam. On the 10th of the 11th month, Henderman would bring the 60 chests filled with gold crowns to dazzle the nobles and officials attending the summit.

Claude was aware that Bernard had no choice but to do that when he felt that the king and his ministers wouldn't easily agree to the discount. In essence, he was expressing that it wasn't that the region didn't have the money, but the kingdom's asking price was too ridiculous. So, they would rather forget the fiefs and leave after showing them the shiny 30 million crowns out of spite.

If the price was only ten or twenty million crowns more than the agreed amount, they only had to bring another 30 million crowns there to make up for the price. But asking more than three times that amount was going overboard. Even the region couldn't afford to take out a sum of that amount.

It appeared that they could just forget the fiefs. If he really wanted the Canasian coast, it would be better to turn against the kingdom. It wasn't that the kingdom could afford to punish them, given the state of their military might. They wouldn't dare risk another civil war with the region.

The only issue was both the soldiers and civilians of the region still considered themselves Auerans. None of them would be willing to fight the kingdom. Some soldiers might even execute Claude for turning traitor...

Chapter 529 - Really a Misunderstanding?

On the way back, Claude kept wondering if he should just send his troops out to occupy the Canasian region. Polyvisia was now defended by Monolith and he could definitely order them to defend Eimis and Audin Mountain Range. With Thundercrash controlling the Canasian region, there was no way the kingdom's taint would reach the Sidinsian, Rimodran and Askilinian territories, not to mention the Great Plains of Canas.

All he needed were his two corps and some defences and Aueras would have to bid a third of Eastern Freia goodbye.

There was no way the kingdom could break through the defences Claudes' forces could put up, even less so when they'd also have to compete with the Audin Mountain Range's horrible terrain. It cut their options down to the stretch of passable terrain from Eimis to Polyvisia. It was a shame the noble fiefs were near there. The kingdom required permission to send their troops through and also had to pay fees.

It would be nothing short of the kingdom shooting themselves in the foot. Claude found it quite laughable that the king and the court never imagined that in enfeoffing that many nobles, they were creating more and more obstacles for themselves. That aside, could the kingdom really muster a force large enough to make the effort worthwhile in the first place? Thundercrash and Monolith had exterminated even the 700-thousand-strong Union military, conquering Nasri and Canas in the process.

While the plans were ideal in Claude's mind, were they really implementable?

Aueras could not afford to take on the autonomous region at the moment. Claude was even confident he could wipe the kingdom from the map if it came to it, but what would that do for them in the long run?

If the region went to war with Aueras, he could attack however he wanted. But the region had been maintaining good relations with the kingdom so far. It wasn't wrong to say they were on a honeymoon. If he struck the kingdom down on his own onus, everyone, even his own side, would consider him a traitor.

The Aueran throne was too deep seated in the people's hearts. The royal family's rule over the last three centuries had cemented them as the people's rightful rulers, even for the people who lived on another continent. Any Nubissian settler proudly identified themselves as Auerans in the presence of non-Auerans and took pride in the bloodline that ruled them.

Claude could never reveal his fanciful designs on the throne, nevermind trying to go through with any of them. He would be tying a noose around his neck himself. It would risk rebellion among his men. Then there was the fact that even he, having fought for the kingdom for the last decade and more, had developed a slight, begrudging pride in his heritage.

He let his thoughts run free for a couple days. He ran into Eiblont's messenger about a day's ride from Canpast. The letter messenger said something had changed in the capital and he asked Claude to hurry back to Thundercrash's headquarters.

Claude ditched his escort and charged ahead. Eiblont was waiting for him when he barged into the headquarters.

"The Lord Militant, the council members, and the entitled soldiers have all been captured. The crown's also seized the 30 million crowns they had taken with them. The other council members here with us are demanding we march on the capital."

Claude felt like bursting into laughter. They had handed him an excuse to rebel on a silver platter. He didn't understand why the capital dared to pull such a braindead move. Fredrey I and Blancarte weren't brainless fools. How could someone who had come up with the enfeoffment plan not expect that to provoke a severe reaction?

Even with their three reorganised main corps, Griffon, and Reddragon, they were still using old muskets. Their expertise would mean little against his superior firepower, and the ministry had to be painfully aware thereof. So where did they get the courage, or stupidity, to do this? Did they have no fear for the kingdom's continued existence?

"Don't panic, tell me the whole story," Claude said.

It turned out the Aueran court convened every tenth's day, on the 10th, 20th, and 30th of the month, to report on their business to the royal couple. On other days the cabinet were the only ones to interact with the king.

Lord Militant Bolonik, General Skri, Sir Bernard, and Chairman Henderman had represented Nubissia during the latest of these meetings on the 10th of the 11th month. They bid the king and queen farewell and said they would set out for Nubissia again the following day.

Shocked, the king had asked whether they still wanted fiefs. Bernard had told him the price was too high and they couldn't afford it, so they were turning it down. Blancarte immediately changed his tune and said Bolonik and Skri, being nobles entitled because of their massive contributions, didn't have to pay to get their fiefs. Both, however, turned down even the free fiefs, and in front of the king himself. They explained that Nubissia's entire leadership had agreed that either everyone got their fiefs, or nobody did.

A frigid silence fell onto the court when he said those words. The queen offered to lend them the money. Bernard answered, however, that the problem wasn't having the money, but that the fiefs weren't worth the price. Even if the fiefs were ridiculously profitable, they would take decades, if not centuries, to make back the cost.

It was simply not worth it, especially not after they found out all the discounts and benefits the mainland's nobles had gotten. It was an unfair transaction.

The mention of 'transaction' ruffled many feathers. The sheer audacity of calling the king's bequeathment a transaction was sacrilege! The queen's face contorted in such an avant-garde fashion that no existing words could describe her expression. The king and the ministers' expressions soured immediately.

"Yes, it is a transaction," Henderman said, standing up, "We are paying gigantic sums of money for pieces of land. What is it if not a transaction? The only difference is that we're trading with the king. It's a transaction by the name of enfeoffment. Sure, it sounds better, but that's all. We're nothing but buyers dissatisfied with the price. You cannot force us to buy when we're unwilling."

"Ridiculous!" the queen yelled, "Say you don't have the money if you don't! What a bunch of paupers! Such bumpkins.... Only you lot will call this sacred enfeoffment a transaction! You lowly merchants! Letting you stand in court is the royal family's greatest humiliation! Guards, chase them out!"

Skri stood up.

"Your Majesty, let me remind you that we, the so-called bumpkins, gave you ten years of tax money in advance to resolve the kingdom's financial crisis. Without our bumpkin armies, you would not have a throne today, possibly not even your head. It was those same bumpkin armies that brought down the kingdom's centuries-old enemies.

"We bumpkins held up our part of the bargain, we even expanded the kingdom's dominion to unprecedented extents, and are currently administering those territories on your behalf without a fenny's compensation. Of course, we are grateful for the honours bestowed upon us, and we are more than willing to pay a fair price for our fiefs, but just that: a fair price. Your Majesties are also welcome to step onto the balcony and gaze at the money we apparently don't have."

The court's great hall was built on a hill that overlooked a giant plaza some fifty metres below. The kingdom's ministers received others there. However, the 60 chests the region had brought with them now occupied most of it. Beside each chest stood four tall palace guards responsible for the court's safety. The chests were locked and they were unable to open it, so they could only stay vigilant beside them.

If Bernard and the others wanted to open the chests and move them into the hall, they would have to let the guards check them first. Then again, it was no different leaving them there. However, quite a number of ministers' attendants and maidservants had gathered around them and were guessing at their contents.

"I heard the bumpkins put them here so His Majesty can look at them. I wonder if they're filled with gold?" one attendant asked, unaware of just how accurate his guess was.

His colleagues laughed at him mockingly.

"Haha, no way. How could they all be filled with gold coins? One such chest can store tens of thousands. There's no way those bumpkins are actually so rich to have all sixty of these filled with gold coins."

"I once followed my house's lord to the national treasury. They had a chest double the size of these that could store up to a million crowns. However, I've never seen one such chest ever filled to the brim. They're usually only filled around the bottom. The treasurers have to use a scoop to get the coins out of the chest," said another attendant.

"Hey, don't you think three soldiers can hide in one of those chests? Do you think the bumpkins are trying to stage a coup and use the troops hidden inside those chests to kill our king and ministers?" The conspiracy theories were going wild.

At that moment, four council representatives stepped out of the side entrance of the hall, along with a few curious ministers. The side entrance opened up to a large veranda where some ministers would enjoy tea under the warm sunshine. Everything at the plaza could be seen clearly from there.

"Open the chests!" Skri yelled from the veranda.

Five grey-uniformed guards of the region entered the plaza with a myriad of keys. As they unlocked them, they turned to their palace counterparts and said, "Friends, please be on alert when I open this box. Don't let anyone take advantage of this, or you wouldn't be able to bear the consequences."

One of the palace guards wanted to snap back, but the lock was already undone. The box opened to the blazing sunshine of the afternoon, instantly blasting a torrent of gold into the air. The guard and his three colleagues were shocked frozen. People all around them cried in shock, "Gold! They're gold coins! All gold crowns! Heavens, how much money is that?!"

"It isn't only one chest! All the opened chests are filled with gold crowns! Am I going crazy? Do all the 60 chests contain gold coins?"

Congratulations to the one who guessed right, but there was no prize for it.

It wasn't that the ministers hadn't seen such an amount of money before. As prime minister, Marquis Blancarte had handled a couple bank exchange notes worth ten million crowns himself. However, that was a relaxing and menial office task, only slightly distorted by the obscenely large numerical values printed on those notes. It wasn't like anybody could use those notes for any transactions in the market anyway.

However, the sixty chests contained cold, hard, gold crowns! They cast a golden sheen across the plaza under the sun. The king, queen, ministers, and palace guards and attendants, were dazzled beyond their wildest dreams.

Two loud claps rang out. The region's guards shut the chest once again.

"Each of the 60 chests contain 500 thousand crowns. Thirty million in all," Bernard said, "It's all the reserves our overseas bank has. I'm sure we have proven our sincerity.

"We didn't think the elevation and picking fee would be this much, however. There is no point in buying even the richest fief option at these prices. We may be bumpkin merchants, but merchants know a bad deal when they see it.

"We may never be as proud and noble as you, but we at least think using that money to build more factories, schools, and ironclads is worth much more than buying fiefs at such prices.

"We brought the chests here to show you we do have the money, and were sincere in our desire to pay the fee. It's a shame we couldn't come to an agreement. We will be returning tomorrow, and we'll even have to go through the trouble of shipping the chests back."

After his gleeful speech, Bernard bowed along with Bolonik, Henderman and Skri before they escorted those chests back to the region's office in the royal capital.

"But last night, the palace guards captured the entire delegation, even Lord Militant Bolonik, under Queen Christie's orders! They were brought to Rotsteinsburg, the kingdom's hellish dungeon itself! They used the excuse that the delegation had committed a lese majeste against the royal couple."

Eiblont held an eagle message in his hand.

"Here's some information an informant in the royal capital sent us. Our region's branch is sealed and our 30 million crowns have been seized. It's all probably in the palace."

"Does the rest of the council know?" Claude asked.

"Yes--" Eiblont smiled in resignation. "--the council and honorary nobles that stayed back here already know about this and they're fuming. They demanded us to send our two corps for the royal capital immediately. But at the same time, we received an eagle message signed by His Majesty himself, as well as another from Prime Minister Blancarte.

"They both said it was a huge misunderstanding. According to them, everyone in the capital knew about the region's representatives having 30 million crowns. To ensure their personal safety, they sent their palace guards to invite them to the palace and move the assets to the palace to prevent any malicious third party from taking advantage of the situation."

Chapter 530 - Deploying Troops

Claude received two eagle messages from Eiblont. He read the dates and noticed they were sent at the same time as Blancarte and the informants' letters. They were all sent on the first day, but there was an order to them. The informants' letters arrived at noon whereas the prime minister's arrived in the evening.

While the two letters arrived on the same day, they contained wildly contrasting accounts. The prime minister's were obviously sent when he found out the queen had sent troops to attack the region's bank's branch office and capture all councillors and entitled soldiers, and transporting the 30 million crowns to the palace. It was an obvious act of damage control.

Blancarte said the queen worried for the money and the safety of those at the branch office and had invited them all to the palace. He asked Claude and company to not worry as the king and queen bore them no ill will.

Claude then read the letter sent by the king the next day. Fredrey I said that since the region's 30 million crowns had been publicly displayed in the plaza, causing word of it to spread throughout the capital.

It stirred many poisonous eyes from their hidey holes. The queen had proof of an impending attack so she sent the troops to ensure the envoys' and their money's safety by inviting them to the palace.

Claude waved the letters in his hand.

"Do any of you believe even a single punctuation in this letter?"

Eiblont hesitated, but spoke up eventually.

"While an outrage broke out after our informants' letters arrived, the new letters caused quite a number of councillors to hold different positions. Many believe that, given the prime minister and His Majesty himself wrote us, it isn't as serious as it sounds. Otherwise, they wouldn't bother to give an explanation. We should watch and see."

Claude shook his head. No wonder Bolonik evaluated Eiblont to be a great general but a bad leader. Without anyone speaking for him, he would hesitate to trust his opinion and miss out on the best opportunities to strike.

"What about General Birkin?"

"He has ordered Monolith's two folks to prepare. They are infantry, however, so it will take some time for them to move."

Claude casually tossed the letters on the desk.

"These are lies to make us hesitate. You shouldn't have waited these three days, Eilon. You should have deployed our men immediately. We should have showed the capital we have no qualms about marching on their walls.

"If this was a misunderstanding, the Lord Militant and Chairman would be the ones writing to us, not the king and prime minister. The king would have no business weighing in on this were what he said in his letter true.

"These two letters, far from correcting a misunderstanding, prove our informants were correct! The queen lusted after our money and has robbed us. This is malicious, pernicious, and damned stupid!

"The prime minister and our dear king are wiping her arse. They, at least, haven't let the money completely wipe out what few bits of brain they have left. That we've not heard from our side at all just damns them even more.

"We will wait no longer. Our friends are in greater danger every moment we further delay. Perhaps the bigwigs at the royal capital think we wouldn't dare pull such a rash move and would give up on the rest, hoping that our unity would crack and then taking our money... My orders are thus--" Everyone, Eiblont included, stood ramrod straight in anticipation. "--Send an eagle message to General Birkin. Tell him to send a folk to the roads connecting Audin Mountain Range, Eimis, and Polyvisia and take it. Increase security, gather supplies, and prepare for battle!"

"Yes, Sir!"

The corps' chief signaller coded the order down formally and handed it to Claude for his signature, before dashing to the signalling department to forward the order to Birkin.

"Order Thundercrash's 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Folks to gear up. We set out for the capital tomorrow morning. The 4th will be the vanguard. Eilon, you will lead them. Kill anyone that dares get in your way!"

They needed to cross more than ten noble fiefs to reach the kingdom's original territory. Claude was a little trigger happy. He wanted to help himself to a few daft nobles along the way. He had the excuse, so it would be a shame if they had suddenly grown brains. If they hadn't, he'd make sure they never had the chance to.

He let 4th be the vanguard since its men were old Hansbach men. Fredrey I still hadn't pardoned them, so they still bore absolutely no goodwill for his side.

"Send another eagle message to the ministry of the army and inform them that we expect every single crown and our people returned unharmed. Tell them we are marching Thundercrash on the capital to receive them, and if they're not waiting for them at the gates, we'll bust them down and burn every building in our search for them.

"If any men stand in our way, we will stomp them into the ground as the enemies they would be. If they try to fight us, we will uproot their trees, roots and all. This is war!"

The orders and declaration was drafted and Claude stamped it.

"After sending this to the ministry," Claude told the signaller, "send the order to the whole kingdom. I want everyone to understand that we are marching on the capital, and why."

"Yes, Lord Militant!"

Just as the signaller was about to leave, Claude stopped him.

"Wait. Apart from notifying the kingdom's other areas, don't forget to send it to our troops in Thundercrash and Monolith as well. Tell our warriors that we're marching there to save our innocent representatives and our wealth! Our sacred right shall not be infringed upon!"

"Yes, Lord Militant!"

The officers were gone a moment later to carry out their numerous tasks and preparations for the upcoming war. The three folks would be departing the next day, so there was much to do. They had no choice but to work through the night. Claude could finally take a good rest. He sipped away at a glass of delicious fruit wine as he wondered how the royal capital would react after getting note of Thundercrash and Monolith's movements. Would civil war really break out?

Not long after, Eiblont returned to his office, having given all the orders he needed to. He shut the door and poured himself a glass of wine, before hesitantly asking Claude some questions.

"You said just now that the longer we wait, the more danger the others will be in, and that it might fracture our unity and allow the kingdom to get our 30 million crowns. Could that really be possible? Would the kingdom really dare to turn against us just like this?"

Claude could only sigh at the politically insensitive Eiblont. "If I were the king or prime minister, do you know what I would do to wipe the greedy Queen Christie's mess away and solve this incident?"

Eiblont shook his head. "I don't know, but since their letters arrived, we'd find out about whether this is a misunderstanding or not soon. Our representatives might be released and the money will be returned."

Claude smiled cynically. "That's what they want you to think. They want you to trust their word and stay put so they have more time to erode away at our solidarity until we devolve into chaos. They'll get the 30 million crowns as a result while watching us bicker among ourselves, pretending to support different factions among us and accelerating our demise."

"I don't believe it. There's no way they can achieve that!"

"They definitely can't in the short term. But if we trust their word and hesitate about sending our troops up, they'll drag this on for up to ten days to half a month. That's when the worst-case scenario might really come to pass.

"You know, Eilon, that the five of us got hereditary noble Titles, so we don't have to pay an elevation fee to get a fief. But the five of us stand together with the other representatives in this matter and will give up on our fiefs if they don't get theirs, right?"

"Yes. That's what we promised."

"But so far, the royal capital isn't willing to give us a good deal. They are insistent on scraping a huge chunk of wealth from us." Claude emptied the wine bottle into his glass. "President Henderman's estimations put the price offered by the king at around 100 million crowns. It's far too high for us to afford for all of us to get our fiefs, so we decided to give up on the offer.

"But before giving up, Lord Militant Bolonik and the others showed off the 30 million crowns at the plaza in front of the palace and argued that it wasn't that we didn't have the money. We showed our wealth, but that only resulted in the trouble those at the royal capital are facing now.

"We believed that the king and prime minister would be rational enough to not try anything reckless on account of our forces, lest they start a war in the process. We trusted them to be able to hold their own desires back and keep the other ministers in line so that the rest of us won't come under any threat.

"But we had forgotten about the queen completely. Her Majesty is married to His Majesty for a few years now and even bore him a son. Back then, our king still hadn't ascended to the throne, being merely a low-profile prince. It's thanks to Queen Christie's machinations and the influence her family has on the royal guard that they mounted the coup to put him on the throne.

"That's why the king is really fond of his spouse and is quite tolerant of her antics. We didn't take into account the bad reputation among the officials and citizens about this queen. Some even call her a dragon in human skin with an insatiable greed for wealth, a penchant for luxury and pleasure, and a nose so high that she always looked down on people. Like a dragon from legend, she loves to hoard wealth and treasures.

"Queen Christie didn't care about our might probably because she thinks we wouldn't dare offend her just because of her Title. Any act against her would be an act of treason against the kingdom, after all, giving the kingdom ample excuse to wipe us out with their forces. She doesn't care how many people will be sacrificed for those 30 million crowns.

"It's tragic that our king and prime minister have to clean up after a queen like that. They are well aware of our might and the fact that they are only able to have what they have now because of our two corps. So, to resolve this incident, they can only do one thing to stop us from acting.

"They'll hold us back for now to buy time and threaten the captured soldiers and council members. As long as a majority of them are willing to hand the money over for fiefs, they would be able to grant some of them fiefs at the cost of 30 million instead of all of us.

"That's the ideal way to resolve this situation. Basically, this mess will be reframed as an internal conflict between our representatives, since a majority of us spent all the money for their own fiefs, leaving the rest of us without hereditary Titles or our own fiefs.

"By then, it's no longer the responsibility of the king, queen or prime minister. They can fully claim to be worried for the safety of our representatives and money. They can say that their subordinates mistakenly transported the representatives. Then, the king only has to apologise for the so-called misunderstanding.

"As for the money, we'll have spent it all. There'll be proof, complete with receipts, signatures and seals from a portion of our representatives. Everything will be lawful and in order.

"The king will have enfeoffed those who sold us out their land according to their choice without any deception or trickery. They picked them of their own free will. As for the others that didn't get their fiefs, they can only blame the ones who did, not the kingdom."

"What... what are the odds of that happening?" Eiblont asked, dumbfounded.

"It's the most likely thing to happen!" Claude said, "I'd wager that in two weeks, some arrested representatives wouldn't be able to take their special interrogation techniques any longer. As long as some tens of them submit, our unity will be completely shattered. The 30 million crowns will then belong to the king and queen proper.

"That's why we have to rush to the royal capital as soon as possible. Eilon, send the royal capital another letter and tell them that without the signatures from all five of us of the region's military, none of the council members have any right to use the 30 million crowns. I expect to see every single coin in their chests untouched by the time I arrive."

Chapter 531 - Prime Minister's Reception

Nobody dared to stop the advance of the three Thundercrash folks. There were more than ten noble fiefs in the Nasrian region, but the so-called lords were nowhere to be seen. Not a single one of the butlers dared to object to the crossing of the troops nor demand compensation for any damaged property on the fief. However, the poor subjects of those fiefs didn't have it much easier as the horses left their droppings on the streets as they passed.

"And there I thought there would be some braindead nobles who would come to stop us so we can slay them and make an example of them. Looks like they're no fools after all. What a shame..." Claude muttered on horseback.

He was really hoping for someone to cause trouble and blame Thundercrash for property destruction and attempt to claim money from them. That would be ample reason for Claude to hang them up so that the other nobles knew their place before pure military might. Even the king's decrees were worth nothing, to say no more of a puny noble's life.

Masonhughes had a short conversation with three mounted scouts that returned before he rode back to Claude. "Lord Militant, there are a few nobles at the rest stop some five kilometres ahead who would like to meet you. They even prepared a feast for a meeting."

So they were finally there. Claude finally snapped out of his boredom. They were probably trying to defend the honour of the kingdom or do something along those lines. Should Claude try to avoid them, they would try to provoke Claude into fighting them and be framed by history as the rightful, honourable men whereas Claude would be the wicked villain who slew a loyal subject of the kingdom.

"How many troops do they have?" Claude asked.

"Troops?" Masonhughes snapped out of his stupor a moment later. "No, Lord Militant. Those nobles didn't bring any troops with them. They only came with a few attendants and servants. They appear to want to meet for some order of business."

Business? Claude wondered what it could entail.

"Bring me to them."

There were six nobles, and the one with the highest status was a hereditary count like Claude. They really were there to do business with him. They didn't care that Thundercrash was making their way to the royal capital in the least. They were more concerned now with their fiefs rather than the kingdom. However, nobody but Claude could give them the greenlight for the business they had in mind. They hoped that Claude could sell them the new rifles of the region so that they could form a formidable force to defend their fiefs.

"I will be frank, Lord Militant," the leader, Count Hiblos said, going straight to the point, "After His Majesty's enfeoffment, the Nasrian region will only remain stable for five years at most. There will definitely be endless conflict among nobles following that. Conflict between nobles isn't something the kingdom can stick their hands into. Even the king wouldn't have the right to send troops to quell these conflicts.

"What we want is an elite force for self-defence, and currently, the strongest troops to exist are your Thundercrash and Monolith corps, Lord Militant. That's why we hope you can sell us the military gear from the autonomous region so we can have an edge over the other nobles. We are willing to pay any cost for that."

Claude didn't really expect that they would be there just for an arms deal. However, there was nothing Claude could do about it, as the matter at the royal capital was still not solved. He could only promise to revisit the matter with the other leaders of the region once everything was wrapped up and get back to them.

As they set up camp for the night, Claude asked around about conflict among nobles and his adjutant, Masonhughes, did seem to know something about it. He told Claude that it involved at least nobles from two different fiefs. The winner would absorb the fief of the loser and expand his influence. Two neighbouring fiefs could fight over matters as small as the amount of water siphoned from a stream or the number of houses built along the border. Eventually, those little spats would no doubt develop into war.

The nobles from both sides would rally their troops and allies to fight, and the winner took all. In ancient times, duels were also commonplace. Each side would send out a knight to represent them in a sacred duel at the war god's shrine. The winner would take the loser's fief as their own or make the loser a vassal house. The loser would swear allegiance to the winner at the shrine and could never go against the will of the winner. In other words, it was a game of gobbling up as much territory as possible.

Though finally understanding the essence of the matter, Claude was completely disinterested in such squabbles. Battles on those scales only numbered in the hundreds or thousands. He asked Masonhughes whether there was any response from the royal capital since their departure, especially the movements of Reddragon and Griffon.

"There's nothing. We didn't receive any reply to our letter. Griffon and Reddragon remained at their stations in the Nasrian region without any odd movements. They didn't make any battle preparations either."

"How is Monolith in Polyvisia so far?"

"Monolith 1st Folk left Polyvisia three days ago with General Birkin for Audin Mountain Range. He sent Corps Command a letter saying that Eimis still remained under the control of our local garrisons. He had ordered 117th Garrison Line to send two tribes to take Audin Mountain Range and hold it until Monolith 1st Folk arrives. It would take at least 16 days for them to reach.

"General Birkin also asked whether he should send 1st Folk straight for the royal capital once Griffon and Reddragon showed up to stop us or flank the kingdom from the borders to work with us to wipe them out in a pincer attack," Masonhughes reported.

With everyone marching their troops around, communication was a little difficult. They mostly communicated with horseback messengers. Carrier eagles' greatest weakness was being unable to locate a moving army. They could only be sent from one signalling station to another.

Claude fell into deep thought. "I'm wondering if the royal capital might use Griffon or Reddragon to stop our advance. I'm sure the king and prime minister know that even those two corps together won't be the match of our three corps. After our letter, they should know that any attempt at stopping us will be considered as a declaration of war.

"The royal capital can't possibly risk stoking another conflict at this point in time, nor can they afford to take us on. If they really send their troops to stop us, that means something has changed in the royal capital. Our representatives might really be in real danger.

"Send someone to Polyvisia and send an eagle message to Eimis as well as a messenger to General Birkin and his troops. If war breaks out, he is to take Monolith 1st Folk straight to the royal capital to crush the royal guard so that those there don't have time to prepare for war or retreat."

The closer he was to the border of the kingdom's original territories, the more nervous he got. If Reddragon and Griffon really showed up to stop him, it would mean that the royal capital had made up their mind to fight that war. Even if Claude could crush them easily, he would be labelled a traitor for good.

In a time of monarchs and royal families, no minister or soldier dared oppose the king even if he committed wrongdoing. Treason was the paramount sin. Even with Claude's excuse of fighting for the safety of the representatives and their wealth, it was still enough to consider sending troops to the royal capital without explicit permission from the king treasonous.

Claude had made up his mind to fight if it came to it. It wasn't that big a deal. If the royal capital really wanted to fight, he would uproot the whole Stellin royal family and exterminate Aueras for good. As for what will come in the future, he would cross the bridge when he came to it. Perhaps he could gather the House of Dignitarians and the House of Lords for the formation of a republic.

Without the Stellin royal family, there was no more need to worry about his traitor label. In the centuries to come, he would be regarded as the one who put an end to the monarchy for the founding of the republic. Like the autonomous region, there would be no one monarch nor figurehead. Nobody was inherently superior to another and there would be a council of men of equal standing deciding on national policies. It would more or less be a democratic, republican system.

"Sir--" Masonhughes barged in and snapped Claude out of his train of thought. "--General Eiblont sent a messenger from the frontlines, saying he crossed the border successfully. Reddragon and Griffon remain in their encampments."

Claude was a little delighted before the disappointment set in. Though he prepared so much for battle, what he envisioned had not come to pass. What was Reddragon and Griffon up to? Was the royal capital really unwilling to go to war? Did they not give any orders, or did the two corps chicken out and refuse to obey those orders, knowing that they were doomed to fail?

If it was the former, the royal capital should be willing to resolve the matter peacefully and pretend they accepted the excuse Claude used to mobilise Thundercrash. Perhaps when Thundercrash finally reached the royal capital, the arrested representatives would be released and the 30 million crowns returned in full. Thundercrash would have nothing left to do but to turn back.

If the royal capital had given the two corps decrees but they didn't act, that meant they would sit there and do nothing as Thundercrash exterminated the kingdom completely. That would mean the command the royal family held over those two corps was merely an empty promise, and that those in real command were hidden behind the scenes.

Claude couldn't figure out the reason for their inaction no matter what. But since they already crossed the border, he no longer had to worry about that problem. Reddragon and Griffon were now worries of the past. They would soon reach Ibnist Plains and only the royal guard could possibly stop them.

"Continue advancing!" Claude said.

Two days later, Thundercrash 4th Folk reached Ibnist Plains and stopped. Eiblont sent an urgent message saying that Prime Minister Blancarte himself came to welcome Thundercrash's troops with a camp already erected in waiting for them.

"What is the meaning of this?" Claude mused, completely confused. What game was the royal capital trying to play? Having the prime minister there to welcome them sounded weird no matter how he tried to think about it. After triple confirming with the messenger that no trace of the royal guard was found, Claude wondered if the royal capital simply gave up upon first notice to avoid war with them.

"Bring me to see Prime Minister Blancarte then." Claude was determined to find out the truth of the matter.

Thundercrash 4th Folk had already settled down in camp. Claude rushed to the main tent with his guards. The moment he pushed the tent cover open, he saw Eiblont and a few other high-ranking officers of the folk laughing with a red-faced, moustached man dressed in common clothing.

Eiblont and the rest immediately saluted Claude when they saw him. Eiblont reported, "Lord Militant, we were about to arrange a meeting before dinner. This is Marquis Blancarte, our prime minister. He wants to discuss something with you."

Claude nodded at the tall man and removed his cloak before handing it to Masonhughes. "I am also curious about the royal capital's plans. It is my honour to be able to meet you, Prime Minister. However, I think we can leave some things for later. I rushed all this way here and am hungry and cold, having been riding against the wind for most of the day. Let's talk after I fill my stomach with some warm soup."

And so a large bowl of potato-beef soup was served to Claude along with four steaming slices of blackbread toast. As he munched away at his food, he apologised for the poor hospitality their troops offered an honoured guest like him.

Some ten minutes later, Claude ordered for his unfinished food to be taken away. The other officers also left, leaving Claude, Eiblont and Blancarte in the tent. Masonhughes served two bottles of fruit wine before exiting the tent.

Claude opened the bottle and poured the three of them some wine. "I believe it's our first meeting, Lord Prime Minister. I've long heard about your reputation. Your five-year revival proposal truly had me gasping in amazement. It is perfect for the kingdom's current climate. If it could be executed, Aueras will no doubt be the number-one nation on Freia."

"You flatter me, Lord Militant. I don't deserve such high praise." Blancarte shook his wine lightly before slowly tasting it like a connoisseur. "I'm sure you are aware that my proposal borrowed much from the developmental plans of the autonomous region, whose progress is thanks to your efforts, Lord Militant."

Claude burst out laughing. "I'm merely a musclehead that only knows how to fight wars. You must've heard one too many rumours about me. Alright, let's skip the pleasantries and talk frankly. I want to know how you intend to resolve this incident."

Blancarte wasn't expecting Claude to get straight to the point and ask for a final resolution. Though taken aback, he quickly recovered and slowly shook his wine glass again. Claude and Eiblont didn't rush him, waiting for him to finish his wine.

"Actually, the kingdom has already extended the greatest sincerity to you. His Majesty accepts your excuse for deploying troops and didn't send Griffon and Reddragon out to stop you. You might be interested to hear about how angry the officers of the ministry of the army and our three corps were when they saw the notices you released. They think you don't take the king seriously at all in mobilising without permission. Many of them requested to be sent to stop you, but His Majesty shot them all down."

A cold smile surfaced on Claude's face. "So, you're saying it's thanks to your graciousness that we even made it to Ibnist Plains? Stop with the bullcrap and let's have a heart to heart. How did this happen in the first place? Why did we send our troops for the royal capital? Are you not aware of what your foolish queen did? You have my thinning patience to thank for us not being in an all-out war. Otherwise, I dare say that the Stellin royal family will be no more when the war ends."

Chapter 532 - Sharp Negotiations

The moment Claude brought up the end of the royal family, the atmosphere in the tent stiffened. Blancarte merely smiled at him without speaking whereas Eiblont turned to look at Claude, then at Blancarte, completely at loss. Claude glared tightly at the prime minister's face to watch for any subtle changes.

Some unknown amount of time later which seemed neither long nor short, Blancarte placed his finally empty glass on the table right before Eiblont was about to yell from the stiff atmosphere. "One more, please."

The tension was deflated in an instant the moment the prime minister spoke. Claude quietly opened the bottle and filled the glass.

Blancarte raised it again and slowly sampled the wine while Claude poured himself one glass as well before putting the half-empty bottle in front of Eiblont so he may have some himself. Eiblont didn't fill it in his glass, but drank directly from the bottle itself.

This time around, Blancarte didn't wait to finish his wine. He took a few sips and turned to Claude. "What do you think will happen once the Stellin royal family and Aueras is gone?"

Claude shook his head. "I don't care about the end result. No matter what chaos the kingdom devolves into, it has nothing to do with me, because we would've returned to the region. We can't be bothered with what happened here."

"Actually, it's not hard to predict what will happen--" Blancarte smiled. "--First, your region's army will be considered the invader thanks to your occupation of the royal capital and extermination of the royal family. The nobles in the kingdom will then give up on all internal conflict and unite into a single entity before rallying for the rest of the populace to exterminate the invaders for the crimes against the kingdom and the royal family.

"You will defeat the nobles' army, but the subjects of the kingdom will consider you a traitor to the kingdom rather than the hero that helped unite Eastern Freia now. You will be blamed for sending the kingdom down another bloody storm. Even if you are able to use force to stop the citizens' protests, you won't be able to stay in Eastern Freia for long as you only have two corps of forces. There's no way you can maintain control over so much land.

"With the kind of reputation you'll have, I can't imagine how you'll gain the people's mandate to rule such a large kingdom. With Thundercrash and Monolith, the most you'll be able to control is the kingdom's original territory, not to mention having to stamp out rebellions. What about the Great Plains of Canas, Askilin, Rimodra, Nasri and Sidins? Are you going to give up on them? What's the point of your victories in the Second Great Eastern Freian War then?

"Ever since the First Great Eastern Freian War, Aueras has never had the time to recover. We went from one conflict to another, from the colonial conflict to the civil war and the coup against the second prince, the war of debt and then the second great war. The subjects of the kingdom have grown weary of these harsh times and crave a peaceful and stable life. Nobody wants to keep fighting forever.

"That's why His Majesty has already shown great courtesy without sending any troops to stop your march to the royal capital. His Majesty believes that the region wouldn't ruin the hard-fought peace we now have. If you really used a small misunderstanding as an excuse to start a war and destroy this peace, I believe the region will only earn the disappointment and ire of the kingdom's subjects and resist you of their own accord.

"Currently, the royal capital is defenceless to you. You can definitely barge in, kill, plunder, burn and rape as you please. You can even repeat the atrocities of the Union's army and plunge the citizens of the capital into a world of despair and suffering. If this is your wish, congratulations. It will soon be fulfilled. The king, the court ministers, me included, and the citizens of the royal capital can do nought but endure your whims."

"Ugh!" Eiblont jumped from his chair. "Lord Prime Minister, Thundercrash isn't the kingdom's enemy. Don't even compare us to the Union's army. We will definitely not commit such acts against the kingdom. We are proud soldiers of the autonomous region, not criminals."

Claude could only shake his head in disappointment. Eiblont's political acuity was pitifully horrendous. Couldn't he tell that Blancarte was merely spewing pointless scare-tactic drivel in response to Claude's threat?

"Since the royal capital is undefended, I trust that our entry will not meet any resistance. It is a good thing, then. Our mission will be completed swiftly. We will transport our representatives and 30 million crowns back to the region," Claude said, "If our representatives didn't come to any harm and our money is untouched, then I will believe that this was in fact a misunderstanding, and that His Majesty truly worried for our safety and took them and the money into the palace. I'm sure the mistakes we made in between will be tolerated, right, my respected Prime Minister?"

Blancarte's smile bittered visibly as he avoided Claude's gaze by raising his glass and drinking frantically, before he forced a smile. "Actually, that night really was a rushed mess. The guards we sent there to help were in a rush to carry out the queen's orders without properly informing your men, causing some of your representatives to get into conflict with us. There are a few who ended up hurt, but I promise they aren't in any mortal danger."

Claude humphed coldly and put his glass on the table a little harshly. "Let us talk openly about what happened that night then. As for what excuse you're using, we know better than that, so don't bring it up. I only want to know how many of us were hurt and how many are still imprisoned in your dungeons.

"You don't have to tell me that now, but we'll soon find out about the truth anyway once we enter the city tomorrow. Don't blame us for retaliating without giving you notice in that case, because you were the one who lied to us by omission."

"Lord Militant, we have a saying here on Freia. 'The servant does not speak of the master's mistakes'. Surely, you've heard of it," Blancarte said sincerely, "It means that as a servant myself, I cannot criticise my master's wrongs. Instead, I should deal with the mistake itself and control the damage the best I can to limit its consequences. That is the true duty of a servant.

"Both of us know how this came to pass. The letter His Majesty wrote you was indeed an excuse, but there wasn't a choice. The one who committed the mistake was Her Majesty, His Majesty's wife and mother to His Highness the prince. She is also pregnant at the moment and can't take too much shock.

"That is why His Majesty has to tolerate her mistake and suppress his anger while cleaning up after her mess. Just like a normal family, there are times when conflicts brew between a couple. Only, this time, the scale is much larger than usual.

"I understand that you're dissatisfied that His Majesty wasn't willing to give you any discount or favour for the enfeoffment, but what you don't understand is it isn't that both the king and I, the prime minister, don't wish to do so. We simply don't have that option.

"Do you know how many nobles were staunchly against the region enjoying the same benefits they did? That is all really huge pressure on us as well. We only managed to convince them to accept giving you the same rights to fiefs without offering you the same favourable conditions.

"In some sense, the enfeoffment policy has filled up the national and royal treasuries quite a lot. But by the time we finally settled all our debts, we didn't have much remaining.

"That amount isn't sufficient to support the revival plan for the kingdom. That's why we can only count on extracting the region's wealth in hopes we can solve our financial issues through granting you fiefs.

"Frankly speaking, this is the opportune time for the kingdom to recover. His Majesty intends to use the fief policy to decrease the old nobility's influence on the economy, government and military.

"By removing key members of old nobility from the military and taking proper control of the three corps, there's no need to worry about an internal revolt. The only thing we lack is capital for the revival of our economy.

"What we didn't expect was this would be seen by you and the others from the region as unfair and cause you to refuse the fiefs altogether. You even shook the royal capital by showing off the 30 million crowns in the plaza.

"While His Majesty and I do indeed desire this sum, we never had the intention of taking it for ourselves. However, the queen was furious at the slight inflicted upon her and also wanted to solve the kingdom's financial problems. So, she sent the palace guards on her own accord and committed that mistake."

"You, quiet," Claude said to Eiblont with a wave to stop him from speaking. He was almost tricked by the prime minister once more. Claude worried that he would enthusiastically give the prime minister his word and reassurance.

Seeing Eiblont shut his mouth with great difficulty, Claude turned back to Blancarte with his gaze sharpened. "Lord Prime Minister, as a soldier of the autonomous region, what I want to know is how serious the mistake committed by the queen was. How much damage did the guards she sent cause?

"I don't care about what you and His Majesty need to revive the economy, nor do I care to know how much these 30 million crowns mean to you. To me, it's plain and simple. As President Henderman said to the court, this is all a transaction. If the deal isn't reached, there will be no transaction.

"In a business transaction, two parties can merely leave if the prices are too unreasonable. It's a normal and voluntary act. Nobody is to blame anyone for it. But when we of the region wanted to deal with His Majesty, we thought the price too high and gave up, since negotiation wasn't an option. To show our sincerity, we even let you see the money we brought in anticipation for the deal.

"We didn't expect you would lust after it and capture our representatives and take our money, not to mention sealing our region's office. Is this something the king and queen should do? Without the region's military might, I don't doubt that our representatives would've been killed in the dungeons so you can enjoy our money without concern.

"Just now, you told me that sob story to try to get me to forgive you and understand your woes. But at the end of the day, you didn't answer the question I'm most concerned about. Let me say this again: get to the point. How do you want to resolve this?

"What I want to know first is how our representatives are doing. You have to give us an answer, whether they're dead or alive. Additionally, you will return our money without a penny less. It is the region's wealth, nobody else's. Also, we want to know whether the queen will be punished for her transgression, and how. Lastly, is His Majesty going to make up to us for this?"

Blancarte could no longer keep his smiling facade. Claude's critical questioning and complete stoicism towards his rhetoric uneased him greatly. However, he couldn't do anything about it. Since he came to receive them, he had prepared himself mentally that he wouldn't be able to avoid the crucial issue for long.

He lowered his brown-haired head.

"Regrettably, the palace guards acted brashly that night and got into a fight with your representatives. Both sides took up arms, but fortunately the conflict was stopped before it escalated to cause irreparable damage or death.

"Fortunately, only 47 of your representatives were hurt. They have received the best treatment and are stable. As for the staff and clan of guards of the region's office, they didn't join the fight because Lord Militant Bolonik stepped in to stop them. They have been disarmed and are now kept from leaving their camp."

Claude's lips curved into an insulting smile. "I don't understand, Prime Minister. Are our representatives hurt from the arrests or the torture that followed? How did nearly half of our hundred representatives get hurt? It's not right to call this a small conflict, right?

"If they got hurt during the initial conflict, there's no way Lord Militant Bolonik would stop the clan of guards from acting, or he wouldn't be fulfilling his duties properly and will have to be punished for it. The only way for so many of them to get hurt is after the guards were disarmed and arrested."

"Well... this was because your representatives said some really insinuating things about the king and queen, so they were given physical punishment by the angered palace guards... That's how so many ended up hurt..." Blancarte tried to explain it away pathetically.

"Hahahaha... Had it not been for the letter we sent later saying that without I, Eilon and Bick's signatures, nobody is authorised to touch that money, I trust that the region would've gained more than 60 new landed nobles by now, and the money would've entered your pockets, right?"

"I assure you it won't," Blancarte forcefully argued, "We really need the funds you brought for the revival plan, but we wouldn't dare take it unrightfully ourselves. This time, it's the queen who has committed this mistake and His Majesty is trying to make up for it.

"We don't wish for war to break out over this small misunderstanding and kill our chances of revival for good. We can even loan the money from you. We definitely wouldn't use underhanded methods to get the money."

"Then, how are you going to punish the queen for her transgressions?" Claude pressed.

Blancarte opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. He lowered his head and mumbled, "Well, you know, the queen is currently expecting her second child... There's nothing we can do to punish her..."

Chapter 533 - Reparations Negotiations and Arms Deal

The five heads were once again united.

Two days had passed since Claude arrived in the royal capital with Thundercrash. As promised, Blancarte released all the representatives and the region's office's staff. The apprehended guard clan was sent to the 4th Folk's encampment. Claude refused to attend an audience with Fredrey I.

President Henderman and Chairman Bernard attended, however. Like Bolonik, they were completely unharmed. Skri, however, had a scar on his face and rope burns on his left arm. Like most other soldiers given honorary Titles, he had suffered substantially. As he had refused the unreasonable requests, he had been given harsh beatings for the first two days of his captivity. Fortunately, the prime minister intervened early, or he might not be in the relatively decent state he was now.

Claude put a folder on the desk before he spoke.

"Take a look. This is the so-called reparations the king is offering."

The folder landed in front of Henderman, who picked it up and smiled.

"The autonomous region's overseas bank is allowed to open branches across the kingdom in exchange for a million crowns as management fee. Our branches can offer a total of up to 20 million crowns of paper money between them, in denominations equal to a single crown and less -- granted we put ten million crowns in reserve with the kingdom's bank. The designs of the notes have to be approved by the ministry of finance, however.

"Additionally, the region's companies are allowed to invest in the Royal Aueran Railroad Company. The kingdom shall own four-tenths of the company, and the region the other six. We can hold these shares up to fifty years, after which time they are to be sold back to the kingdom.

"Our fiefs and Titles will now also be granted at half the price. Those harmed during the recent incident will have all fees waived."

"I'm sorry. Prime Minister Blancarte is really hard to negotiate with. These three conditions are the only ones we could wring out of him after a whole night of discussion," Claude said.

Bernard and Henderman were elated.

"It's already more than impressive that you got these conditions," Bernard said happily, "That lot was only willing to let us open a branch in Whitestag before. Now, we can open branches in the national and prefectural capitals. In other words, we can now export our paper currency here."

Claude took out a cigar, lit it, and took several puffs.

"Well, it's not like the kingdom will lose anything. Didn't you see the annual million-crown 'management fee'? The branches are essentially considered subsidiaries of the national bank. I recall Viscount Godic telling me the kingdom's national bank branches don't even make more than a million crowns in profit.

"Apart from the fee, the true goal is to lure our paper money in to replace actual coinage. After all, there isn't much profit in minting coins. In fact, they are at risk of making losses. Blancarte wants our bank to deposit ten million crowns in reserves to allow the circulation of 20 million crowns' worth of paper money. They're basically using us as a guinea pig."

"The money to be released here is not the same as what we have back home, right? There'll be a need for a redesign and an anti-forge seal, yes?" Henderman asked.

Claude nodded.

"Yes. It's part of the stipulations. The prime minister probably wants to replace coins altogether. It won't keep our money out of the mainland, however. People just won't be able to exchange with our notes at the mainland's bank."

"Then it's fine. It doesn't matter that the mainland's bank doesn't acknowledge our money as long as we do. As long as we open enough branches, we will just push them out of the market because people will prefer our money to theirs because we'll have branches everywhere they can use it."

Henderman looked at the second condition in the folder with a smile.

"I didn't think the kingdom would leave the railroad company with us. They really are sincere. I recall when we first arrived, they wanted us to give all our expertise, knowledge, and technology for free to contribute to the kingdom. We refused, of course. The second time, they tried to pay for it, but they only offered 300 thousand crowns."

Skri laughed.

"Looks like they've learnt their lesson. You can't build a railroad with sheer willpower. We make a lot of profit off the network back home, but it was a massive investment, not just in the construction, but the research before that. It took five generations of design just to get to where we are now, and there's still a lot that can be improved...

"They don't realise how much they're saving by buying our technology and expertise. This deal lets them get everything for nothing. They just have to give us some land. They've got a golden goose there."

"The prime minister really is a smart devil. He knows how to get everything he wants and more out of a deal," Claude mouthed between puffs, "If we connect all the major cities across the core of the kingdom, the entire network will make three million crowns a year. Doing that will cost us 20 million though.

"Before this deal they'd had the old nobility in charge of the project. They spent most of their time bickering over shares, however. They'd not even gotten started on the research, nevermind planning the business side of things.

"They're all distracted by their new fiefs, however, so they're not around to protest the whole project being yanked out from under their feet and given to us. If we have the manpower, we can have the barebones of the network finished in two years. In another seven we'll be done with the last of the lines.

"All in all we should break even in fifteen to twenty years depending on how quickly the markets in the new prefectures and territories get back on their feet and ramp up demand for transport on the lines. The best would probably be to finance this with bonds on our bank. We should be making enough that we can pay out annual dividends on the bonds in a couple years and still make enough to begin paying off the bonds at a good rate."

"It's a decent idea," Bernard praised, "Lord Militant's suggestion is brilliant. We should price the bonds at a hundred crowns and open them for sale to our region's residents. Each household can only purchase one bond and have to be registered with the bank. Every year, their dividends will automatically be deposited into their account. We nobles and council members shouldn't dip into this, however. It's about time the people back home benefit directly from our efforts. We had the meat, so leave the soup to them."

A bond of a hundred crowns and a total valuation of 20 million would mean 200 thousand households could get bonds. It would be a great boost in confidence in the administration. Now that the region's economy was developing rapidly, saving money in the bank netted the people a small interest. However, those who bought the bonds might see them double in a mere decade.

Claude knew well that Bernard was trying to please the people. After all, the councillors were now hereditary nobles. They only had to pay an elevation fee and land-purchase fee to own their own hereditary fiefs on Freia.

If word got back to the region, sentiments of being abandoned would no doubt fester. There might even be those who made use of those sentiments to cause trouble. The people had to feel like their rulers were thinking of them.

The rest didn't comment on the railroad, their silence was tacit approval of Bernard's suggestion. Next came the last offer: the half discount on fees related to the fiefs and Titles. It was the biggest discount the royal family had offered to anyone, apart from the blood relatives of the royal family or the nobles that had greatly supported Fredrey I's ascent to the throne.

Not to mention, the nobles hurt due to the queen's actions were exempt from all fees. Skri laughed as he stated he had saved 200 thousand crowns by taking the beating, which turned out to be quite worth it. The others hurt by the incident were satisfied as well.

Bernard and Henderman were happy about the reparations and discounts. As Blancarte told Claude, the ministers were initially ferociously against the region's nobles enjoying the same benefits they did. However, all dissent vanished following the queen's rash actions.

When word came about Thundercrash's march towards the royal capital, the nobles and ministers of the royal capital devolved into chaos. Some blamed the court for discriminating against the region and said they should've given them benefits. Others quietly took leaves and left the royal capital to prevent being embroiled in the matter. Some honorary nobles who lingered around the royal capital even spread rumours about the king's inept handling of the matter.

Had Queen Christie not gotten into conflict with the region's representatives like that, the king wouldn't have an excuse to use to give the region any discount. However, the incident provided both sides an opportunity to compromise. The king gave the region the benefits to make amends whereas the region's representatives were happy they didn't get left out of the deal.

Claude was thankful he didn't really use force against the capital. If the representatives hurt could forgive and forget the whole business thanks to the king's apology, it wouldn't be Claude's place to stand out and fight.

Maria had come to him the previous evening to put in a good word for her daughter, in fact. She knew Claude's current status and power as the undefeated Lord Militant. She knew better than anyone how easily he could wipe the kingdom off the map.

Nobody, not even she, had thought this nobody boy she'd taken in as a disciple at least partially on a whim would become such a powerful figure. The vast canyon between their statuses was still there, even wider and deeper than it had been at the beginning, only now Claude stood on the high ground and she was the one staring up at him.

Her status had not diminished at all. She'd been the king's sworn sister back then, now she was the queen mother after a fashion. Claude, however, had been the peasant son of a local bureaucrat when they'd met, but now he was the Lord Militant of an autonomous region at least as large as the kingdom, and several times more powerful. It had an economy several times more developed, stable, and liquid than the kingdom, and he controlled it all. He was a king in all but name and wielded the most powerful, advanced, and trained force in the world.

The two had carefully avoided any talk of his purpose in the capital during their reunion, opting instead to talk pleasant nothings about the early days of their acquaintance.

Maria was quite concerned about Angelina, Claude's sister, having heard that she was already a mother. She bemoaned the swift passing of time. The obedient girl had become a mother. She said it was a real shame her foolish son had ruined the chance she'd organised to take Angelina as his wife and make her Maria's daughter-in-law.

She didn't speak of her daughter, nor did she ask for leniency. When she departed she left a notebook she asked Claude to give to his sister. It was her research journal from the last two decades of her work. Claude couldn't bring himself to tell her Angelina had abandoned herbal medicine for firearms. The old woman gushed over Angelina's talent for the field every chance she got and it would break her to learn that the girl was no longer a practicing apothecary.

Since the representatives of the region weren't going to pursue this whole business, Claude went with the flow, though he couldn't deny that part of it was on account of Maria.

Henderman closed his eyes in thought and frowned.

"Even if the king offered us a one-half discount and exempted the ones hurt, our 30 million crowns still isn't enough to pay for everyone's fiefs. We're still short 17 million."

"Why don't we just say 30 million is all we have, and if they don't take it, we'll leave? Let's get them to slice the price more," Bernard suggested shamelessly.

Claude almost burst out laughing.

"Turn the page. Blancarte included two more conditions. Our region is to provide new rifles and an ironclad fleet to the kingdom to make up for the 16.4 million crowns. I have to make clear that Lord Militant Bolonik was the one who agreed to those two terms."

Bolonik, who had been silent the whole time, flushed.

"Yes... The kingdom's factories already recreated our rifles. A few shipyards have also teamed up to research ironclads and have made good progress. However, the prices they quote are ridiculous. A rifle is 45 crowns and a round a thale. One ironclad is 6.8 million crowns.

"I believe that, rather than let the old nobility profit off making arms, it would be better to have the region take care of it. I agreed to provide 400 thousand new rifles and 40 million rounds. We'll also build a fleet of 16 ironclads, which should be just enough to make up for what we still lack."

Chapter 534 - Two Bits of Bad News

Claude was really crestfallen and filled with a sense of defeat. He only just felt how horrid it could be to have a useless teammate.

If the region was not going to declare independence from Aueras, this conflict would be their best chance to further their influence. They'd done what the king had asked in the war, only to have their intelligence insulted. However, Thundercrash and Monolith still had stunning reputations due to their unmatched performance, so they had quite the leverage in the court.

But when the war ended, the region was ostracised by the old nobles. Naturally, it had lots to do with the cessation of support for military resources to the court. After all, the kingdom's territory had already been reclaimed and the taxes collected from those areas were enough for the kingdom to more or less make do. There was no need to 'borrow' future tax money from the region in advance any more, though, they'd already hit their limit of ten years ahead.

The region had even intentionally increased support for Reddragon and Griffon in hopes they would stand up for them in the court against the other factions. However, the region underestimated the thickness of the skins of the nobles' faces. When they needed help, they tried to appear as pleasing as possible. Once they got it, they pretended to not know who they were. Even the royal guard joined the nobles in the ostracisation, causing the region to have no ally in court at all.

In some sense, Claude took his three folks of 100 plus thousand men to the royal capital with the new 4th Folk as vanguard with the intent on purging the court of the nobles' power. While Queen Christie was stupid enough to let herself be blinded by the region's wealth, Claude would never want her life for it. He would spare her and the king on account of Maria, at the very least.

He didn't want to be a kingslayer, after all. If King Fredrey I wasn't willing to cooperate with him, Claude could simply take him captive in the colonies and kill the rest of the ministers and nobles off. Anyone who showed any sign of hostility towards the region would be punished. As for what he would do after the purge, he could simply cross the bridge when he came to it.

Naturally, it would be ideal if the king played nice. Claude wanted the region's council to have a share of the power in the House of Lords so that they had actual ability to influence the kingdom's policy, not just suggest changes from the sidelines. The biggest problem of the Aueran parliamentary system was that the nobles in the House of Lords had most of the power to run the nation while the House of Dignitarians was nothing more than a suggestive body. The nobles no longer had anyone standing in their way. Even the dignitarians in the lower house were basically their servants.

Claude hoped to emulate the England of old Earth and have a parliamentary democracy with the prime minister as head of government and the king only the symbol of the nation without any real power. Once the lower house of England gained actual power, the nobles in the upper house became little more than symbols. They weren't heard from often thereafter.

Claude knew very well the region couldn't afford to make such a move at a time like this as it would seem like they were abandoning Nubissia for Freia, but his passivity only caused the Freians to double down on their view that the region was uncivilised and anyone from there was a bumpkin. Even if the region did manage to take control, they still wouldn't be properly acknowledged as rightful rulers by the people. Riots and rebellions were sure to break out.

As such, Claude's plans were quite simple. He would first purge the nobles hostile to the region and pass on the court's power to the House of Dignitarians, supporting a regime of civilian rule. Then, he would pick some council members of the region to form a faction in the House of Dignitarians, cementing the region's influence on Aueran policy.

However, his plans would not come to pass. While Blancarte was quite the smart person for being able to minimise the damage caused by Queen Christie's actions, Claude still held enough power to eradicate the forces of the kingdom. No matter how the negotiations went, he could easily tear up the agreement to do what he wanted.

However, the council members and officers were quite a disappointment to him. Not only did they not remember the pain and humiliation they just suffered, they even seemed proud about it. The way they saw it, the king was being more than gracious to offer them those reparations. They were thankful that their involuntary suffering got them those benefits.

Bolonik, on the other hand, was yet another imbecilic loyalist to the royal family. As Claude had predicted, those in the palace did have their eyes on the 30 million crowns of the region. All Blancarte had to do was to tell Bolonik the kingdom's sob story to get him to confidently state his loyalty to the kingdom and his willingness to help without consideration for how his actions would affect the region at all.

Skri was the exact opposite. On the day after his arrest, he was pressured by a person claiming to be the palace's internal affairs supervisor to take a fief from the king. Skri refused without hesitation and mocked the king for letting money drive him insane to even dare to attempt using such underhanded methods to get the region's representatives to hand over their money to get the fiefs at those unreasonable prices. That earned him a sound beating, but Skri didn't relent at all.

Like Skri, the other 40 plus representatives also suffered the first-ever beating in their lives. The reason they were picked over the others was their relative youth, making them more resilient to beatings, unlike Bernard or Henderman who wouldn't be able to withstand such bodily shock. The palace guards were worried about a huge incident blowing up should any of them end up dead. The threat of Thundercrash and Monolith was nothing to scoff at.

Not to mention, Claude's letter came just in time to remind the king, court and the ministers that without the signatures of the other two generals, nobody could use the 30 million crowns. Even if they did, the region wouldn't acknowledge it. However, the main issue was the fact that the two generals were leading their troops towards the capital.

That was when the beatings stopped. The representatives were immediately moved out of the dungeons, given extreme care and medication. While they were still under arrest, they at least got to spend half a month in peace. The king and queen even made personal visits to them and the king himself apologised on Christie's behalf for her rash actions sincerely.

This was why none of the council members were receptive to Claude's plan of purging the royal court. Even Bernard and Henderman advised Claude to not involve himself in the royal capital's politics, stating that their roots were with the region and they should focus on developing the Northbay area and the Great Plains of Canas.

As long as they got their fiefs there and developed the place, the region would have a firm foundation on Freia. The two areas could be connected by trade and administer themselves free of the kingdom's interference. As such, there was no need for them to influence national policy as it might negatively impact the development of those areas.

With the council members against the plan, the soldiers were also not receptive to such drastic measures. Claude found that he no longer had a like-minded ally with him. Bolonik's promise to the kingdom could be seen as a betrayal to the region's interest. Even though there weren't any trade negotiations, he promised the kingdom to sell them the new rifles and ammunition as well as an ironclad fleet in place of the fees they still owed.

The old nobility did, in fact, manage to forge the Sonia 591s within their industrial complexes, calling it the Tygston Type-600. According to the informants, they were roughly five to six centimetres longer than the region's Sonia 591s and half a catty heavier. The reason they couldn't yet be mass produced was the trouble with making suitable ammunition.

The old nobility's technicians did try hard, but even after disassembling the region's ammunition for the components within, they weren't able to determine the composition and makeup of the powder. Without any success, one technician simply used ground fire crystals as the cartridge's primer.

However, fire crystals kept on rising in price and were four to five times more expensive than before. With them being rather sparse to begin with, they would be too expensive and insufficient to make ammunition with. That was why the old nobility sold the new rifles at a price of 45 crowns each and a thale per round.

Thinking back at the old nobility who asked the region what they would quote them for the rifles and ammunition, Claude began to grow suspicious. The barrels of the Tygston and Sonia had the same diameter, so ammunition was compatible. He wondered if the nobles were trying to supply their own guns with ammunition the region made.

And yet, Bolonik so casually agreed to the court's demand and provided them 400 thousand new rifles and 40 million rounds to reorganise their three main corps, not to mention a fleet of 16 ironclad warships!

It was ridiculous! Claude was seething mad. While Bolonik reasoned that the costs of all that wouldn't amount to nearly 16.4 million crowns and the region would be making a profit, the court wasn't offering any hard cash either. They were merely charging the region for land and waiving that charge for the arms deal.

Just as Bolonik was thinking about the deal gleefully, thinking that he made the region profit, Claude popped his balloon and said the court saved time and even managed to strengthen their forces. With the new rifles, Reddragon, Griffon and the royal guard would once more pose a threat to the region's two corps. While they still weren't the region's match, at the very least, they would be able to deal many more casualties than they could before.

That aside, what was Bolonik thinking when he promised the fleet of ironclad warships? Did he not understand how significant they were for the region?

Claude couldn't hold himself back at the time and shouted at Bolonik, expressing that with the kingdom now having an ironclad fleet, the region's transport ships would always have to be escorted by Ironclad from then on! The kingdom's waters would no longer be the safe shipping routes they used to be!

Even if the kingdom's shipyards worked jointly to research ironclad warships and made good progress, there was no way they would have a proper ironclad ship in three to five years. Much of the region's ship designing was steered in the right direction thanks to Claude's corrections so they wouldn't take wrong paths, saving them much time and cost. They only got their results after three to four more years of actual testing at sea!

No matter how much funds Freia invested into ironclad warships, there was no way they'd be able to match up to the region's mastery over it within a short time. Their ironclad warships were godly weapons.

Yet, Bolonik was so generous and promised the kingdom a whole fleet of them. Surely, they would be forged all across Freia just like the mortars were once they came to the kingdom. It wouldn't take long for the other nations to close the technology gap!

Unlike Claude's explosive rage, Skri, Eiblont and Birkin were mad, but in a calm, measured way. They were angry because Bolonik had no right to do such a thing as selling the region's new rifles, ammunition and ironclad warships to the court.

Even Claude, the most powerful among them, would come to them for discussions before making a decision and only take action once they had a unanimous agreement, unlike Bolonik who represented the others in signing that arms deal.

But with the deal now in black and white, the rest had no choice but to clean up after Bolonik's mess no matter how dissatisfied they were. Thankfully, Bolonik knew shame and immediately announced his resignation as a member of the military administration for a post in civil administration instead, saving a little bit of grace for himself. Claude had no choice but to take over the deal as its implementer.

Thankfully, Bolonik only agreed to sell rifles and ammunition, but not the new cannons. At least, he knew his place, as the new cannons were produced in Claude's Blackstone Arms Factory whereas the new rifles were made in the joint arms factory Weyblon managed in Lanu. That was why Bolonik couldn't fulfil the court's request for the new cannons.

Claude's private factory manufactured new cannons, sniper rifles and their ammunition as well as some prototype ship cannons. They passed on the production of rifles to the factory in Lanu so as not to let them take up too much manpower and funding. They still had around 100 thousand rifles in the storehouses, so all they needed to fulfil the court's order was to ramp up production for a year or two.

As for the ironclad warships, Claude was intent on delaying their production. After all, constructing them would take quite some time in the first place. However, Claude still needed to consult Moriad on the matter to see if they had a way to hoodwink the kingdom.

As Claude busied himself dealing with matters, two bad news came from Shiks and the region. Majid III announced that the Nasrian court-in-exile would once more be taking root in Shiks' royal capital, and the exiled Seventh Prince Vedario would take on the name and title of King Nasri VIII. The same also applied to Canas' court.

Shiks announced that they didn't acknowledge Aueras' ownership over the Nasrian and Canasian regions and would give Nasri VIII and Duke Canas all the support they needed to restore their nations. They would rally all fighters dissatisfied with Aueran rule to form a new army to restore the sacred sovereignty of those two nations.

Meanwhile at the region, the allied colonies of the western coast announced the ban on imports from the Aueran Autonomous Region as well as the crackdown on smuggling. The merchants from the region also had their trading licenses revoked before they were deported.

Chapter 535 - Analysis and Response

"Based on how it's been so far, Shiks is helping the exiled courts of Nasri and Canas to form a reclamation army of sorts. They don't pose a threat, at least for now. No matter how loud they shout, they wouldn't be able to summon the rainstorm. All they can do is send a small unit to invade our borders for reconnaissance or to stir up riots. They wouldn't be able to affect the stability of Eastern Freia as a whole much," Skri summarised with his stick pointer tapping on the map hanging off the wall.

The high-ranking officers from both corps all attended the meeting to deal with the two bad news they received not long ago. It was yet another grand meeting held at the royal capital between the leaders of the military and civil administration of the region. With Skri as the region's representative, he gave the others present a short briefing on the situation to make them understand the threat the region would be facing.

"Shiks' Seaking had been completely destroyed by Ironclad, so they wouldn't be able to rely on the ocean to send their troops. During wartime, Shiks formed a transport route through the Kingdoms of Bleyotte and Mambamark to supply their troops at the frontline. They can also transport injured soldiers back through that route.

"But now that the war is over, Shiks no longer has a good reason to request a way through those kingdoms, because if the kingdoms allowed that, it would mean they were in league with Shiks, the nation that declared war against us. Bleyotte and Mambamark definitely wouldn't take part in a war that has nothing to do with them.

"As there are two nations separating our fiefs and Shiks, coupled with the fact that Shiks lost their only navy, we aren't worried about starting a war here in Eastern Freia. Their support of the exterminated nations is merely them trying to reinforce the notion that they're still the boss of the Union and remind others they still exist.

"As for the army they're helping to form, they'll at most be able to send in small units into the Nasrian region to cause trouble, and we all know who the king enfeoffed the fiefs in that area to. So, the ones who'll have to deal with the rioters will be the nobles of the kingdom. Their household forces should be more than sufficient for that.

"As for us, our fiefs are in the Canasian region in Northbay and on the Great Plains of Canas. It's basically an extension of the autonomous region on Freian soil once the enfeoffment is officially carried out. The region has decided to send a flotilla from Ironclad to dock at Northbay to defend it. As such, Shiks is merely a caged rabid dog to us. There's nothing they can do to us no matter how loud they bark."

After going over Shiks, Skri had his adjutant and guards switch the map on the wall out for one of Nubissia. He would then go on to discuss the ill effects of the ban of the region's products on the western coast.

Skri tapped on the map a few times and waited for them to quiet down. "Unlike Shiks' announcement, we think that this is more serious and worthy of our attention. They raised an embargo against us!"

Chatter broke out in the meeting room again. One loud voice called, "Declare war! Let's declare war against them! How dare they chase out the merchants from our region? It's discrimination! Let's crush them with our forces and force them to sign a free-trade agreement with us!"

Skri grimaced at the delusional fool. The first thought on his mind was actually war. The sad thing was, many others in the meeting shared the same views, as they cheered in support.

Skri tapped the wall hard once more to suppress further discussion. Once they all calmed down, Skri shook his head. "Yesterday, we've already discussed this matter with the executive committee of the council. Our conclusion was that we can't go to war over this matter.

"This isn't something war can solve. Our region doesn't have the time nor ability to gain a swift victory. The longer this drags on, the worse it will be for us."

"Why?" asked another council member loudly. He sounded like the one who called for war just now.

"Look at the western coast on the map here. I'm sure you all can tell that the combined territories of the western coast is around four times the size of the region's. Their colonies stretch inland into the centre of the continent and have near a century of headstart compared to us in development. They have better population size, infrastructure and scale than ours."

The earliest Nubissian colonies were formed at the western coast, which was fertile, vast and rich. However, the region's land in the south used to be the most desolate and poor areas. Stellin X only went south because he wasn't able to form any colonies at the western coast. Only through six decades of nonstop development did the colonies become what they were today.

"Two centuries ago, the colonies at the western coast used to fight one another nonstop before settling into the current status quo. These colonies belong to the eight Southern Freian nations. The Northern Freian nations that used to have colonies there were pushed out, so they had no choice but to go to the decrepit northern snowy highlands and eastern coast to found their colonies. That's why Shiks started the colonial conflict in the first place. They wanted our territory in the south.

"Nowadays, the western coast is the territory of the eight Southern Freian nations. Over five decades of peace, the colonies underwent rapid economic and civil development. Fortunately, those eight nations treat the colonies as supply providers to be sucked dry like Aueras used to do to the colonies. They suppress industrial development for the most part, keeping exports mostly to raw materials.

"So why did our products end up selling so well across the western coast? It's simple: they're cheap and of decent quality, unlike the eight nations which sell their bad-quality products back to their colonies at a high price. Due to their monopolistic policies, their settlers can only buy their expensive products and endure having their wealth slowly siphoned away, leaving them no choice.

"But this all changed once our products were smuggled there en masse. Even though the western coast's officials tried their best to stamp out smuggling activity, their citizens still chose to buy our goods instead. That caused quite a lot of the products those nations produced to be unable to sell out. In other words, we infringed upon their interests.

"Thanks to our victory against the Shiksan forces, the governments of those eight nations don't dare to settle this by force. All they can do is object strongly and request us to control the smuggling activity. We refused their request back then and told them we believed in free trade. Since people were coming to buy from us, we won't refuse them, and where the products were shipped were of no concern to us.

"Two years ago, two-thirds of our products were smuggled to be sold in the western colonies. Last year, our exports decreased somewhat due to the war, but half of our products still made their way there. It's worth noting that around ten million crowns' worth of our region's paper money is circulating on the western coast.

"The citizens of those colonies even managed to evade taxes by using our currency as the governments of those colonies refuse to acknowledge our currency while the citizens could easily change them for their own currency with the various merchants. I believe that's also one of the main reasons our merchants with legal businesses were driven out of the western coast."

The warmongering council member interrupted Skri, "We know all that, but that isn't a justification for not going to war! If we send out Thundercrash and Monolith as well as Ironclad, the ban will completely disappear and their forces will be crushed! They'll be forced to accept trade with us!"

"You think of this too simply!" Skri said, frustrated, "Declaring war against the colonies is akin to declaring war against their nations on Freia, understand? Like how Shiks declared war against the former Aueran colonies, the kingdom sent Ranger folk here as reinforcements!

"Those eight nations have four times the territory on Nubissia than we do, and have a total population of more than 60 million. While most of them are mix-bloods, colonisation of over two centuries has already caused them to adopt the identity of their respective nations. They have this huge advantage over the nikancha we have here. If we declare war against them, we'll be seen as the aggressors. The mix-bloods will be willing to take up arms against us!

"Do you think our two corps with 200 thousand men will be able to sweep through those colonies in a short time? It's impossible to achieve without at least five years. Even if we did end up defeating them, we wouldn't have enough forces to maintain order, unless we go full draft until we reach a million troops.

"Do you know what fielding a million troops will mean? It'll be a super-large-scale war we can't afford! Not only are we going to fight those colonies, we're also fighting the nations backing them. They will send resources there nonstop and even send troops to attack our region.

"By then, we would be completely helpless. Our kingdom will definitely not offer us any support and will likely seek to cut off ties with us because they wouldn't be able to withstand the pressure from all eight nations. What they want the most now is proper rest and recovery. So, we can't go to war just because of this embargo."

Skri couldn't be more direct about how they couldn't afford to fight that war. They simply didn't have the funding, support and forces to do it. The stubborn council member still seemed dissatisfied, but he was immediately forced to sit back down by those around him.

"Who's that?" Claude asked Weyblon.

"That's old Boman's son, Anderclost Joist. He was quite lucky and took over the council member post from his father just in time to be made a hereditary baron. However, his family has around 17 factories in Robisto producing daily necessities. Most of his products are sold to the western coast and he's the one most affected by the embargo." Weyblon, as always, was really well versed about the council members' backgrounds.

Claude chuckled. "No wonder he was so emotional and even called for war..."

Skri continued, "Even though the western coast's colonies have an embargo against us, the smuggling won't stop as long as there's still profit to be made from it. What the council can do is to first provide armed escorts for the smugglers and forge new smuggling routes to ensure they wouldn't easily be captured by the colonies' authorities. At least, they'll need to be able to retaliate.

"Second, we'll be needing a trading hub on Freia for our development of Northbay and the Great Plains of Canas in the next two to three years. Products from either continent will be traded there. We will make it the biggest free-trade market to draw merchants from various nations there to buy our goods so they may ship them back to their respective homes.

"The executive committee trusts that this project will soon be one of our main gains from the fiefs. Even with the losses we incurred from the embargo, the profits of the new trading hub will more than make up for it, so we only need to be patient. As we develop the new fiefs, the committee will also be sending representatives to negotiate with the colonies to lift their embargo."

"Are you going back to the region this time around?" Weyblon asked.

"Yes," Claude said, "Thundercrash and Monolith is held up here and can't return, but we still have to deal with the situation at the western coast or our economy will be negatively impacted. Officially, our current focus is to transition our investments to our fiefs and develop them. However, we will teach those western colonies a harsh lesson behind the scenes.

"They really picked a good time to cause us trouble. With our two corps held up in Eastern Freia and Ironclad having to defend the ports here, there's nothing much we can do against the embargo. However, we will not give up on the market there."

"But there's only a Monolith folk in the region as well as 12 local garrison lines. Our forces there are really sparse. Should we send a folk or two back instead?" Weyblon asked with concern.

"Hahaha, I'm not going back to wage war. I just want to see if there's a way we can lift the embargo without force. The region has been fighting over the past two years and we really need some good rest. I even plan to discharge part of our forces to lower military spending. Not all problems need to be solved by force. Trust in my judgment. I believe the western colonies won't want to go to war with us either."

"Let's hope so... Will Lord Militant Bolonik be going back as well?"

"Yes, he will be heading back to transfer over to civil administration and take over Chairman Bernard's duties while he's absent. As for the development of Northbay, Generals Skri, Birkin and Eiblont will be here to handle it. I'm sure they'll be more than capable of maintaining order on the Great Plains of Canas."

Chapter 536 - Ironclad Deal

On the 18th of the 1st month of Year 602, Claude secretly boarded Ironclad's new flagship, Rageshark, to head back to the region. Originally, he should only be returning a month later with the council members and soldiers after the enfeoffment ceremony. However, he excused himself by citing having military matters to deal with and left with his adjutant and guards.

Rageshark, Arrowfish, Flying Fish and Bullhead Whale formed a small escort flotilla. Even though tens of ships flying black flags appeared in the horizon, the ironclad flotilla didn't seem to mind them and merely blew their loud whistles as they sailed past the first of those sail ships. Soon, the sail ships were far behind them.

"Are those the Blacksail pirates?" Claude asked.

"Yes. They should be heading towards Nubari Islands," Moriad said, holding a really thick cigar in hand.

Claude heard Borkal say that the leader of Blacksail was their childhood friend, Eriksson. Back then, Eriksson became a pirate to search for his lost father and managed to discover an uninhabited island in the deeper parts of Tranquil Ocean.

It was said that his parents and the family members of the pirates lived on the island that could support up to 200 thousand people. Eriksson even had ambitions to declare themselves a sovereign nation with that island alone and raided Aueran shores nonstop during the civil war to kidnap talented smiths and artisans. Usually, the pirates would only switch out for others once every three months of non-stop raiding at the pirate heaven, Nubari Islands.

Thanks to Borkal's coordination, Blacksail was neutral towards the region and maintained a decent relationship, having never infringed upon their waters. Sometimes, they would drop their black flags and pretend to be merchants to sell off their pillaged goods in the region.

"Are they still purchasing supplies from us?" Claude asked.

Moriad shook his head. "That, I'm not too sure. Colonel Borkal should be the one in charge of this. Basically, they only buy supplies through the wild-bull company, and only through Port Cobius. They never sail to Port Patres.

"However, three years back, the company once made a request to buy ironclads to us on the pirates' behalf, which we denied. Ever since then, they bought lots of steam and hot-air engines from the company. They should be trying to research their own ironclads."

Claude nodded. He didn't doubt that Eriksson would discover how game-changing ironclads were, given his sharp wit. Knowing that the region would definitely not agree to sell him any, he decided to undertake his own research efforts into them.

However, it was simply an impossible task for a band of pirates to achieve. The most they could do was clothe their sail ships in a sheet of metal armour. As for the steam and hot-air engines they bought, they would have to refit them for use on ships, which was a highly difficult and complex feat of engineering. Claude didn't have high hopes of Eriksson's success unless he had at least three to four five-ring rune magi in his service.

"Do you encounter the pirates often?" Claude asked.

"Only occasionally," Moriad said with a chuckle, "Back when I was transferred to our patrol fleet, we would run into them during our training voyages. They would often sail alongside us and mock us, but without ill intent. They were just too bored and wanted to nudge us for a couple packs of smokes.

"Back then, we were all using sail ships, so they would demonstrate some manoeuvres to us like flanking pursuit and shooting pursuit, treating us like complete newbies. We would often end up quite pissed at being schooled, but I have to admit that if we really fought back then, we wouldn't be their match when it comes to sail ships.

"But after we started putting the ironclads into service, encounters with them were only met with envious and jealous glares. When Ironclad as a fleet was properly formed, we slowly began to distance ourselves, as they understand better than anyone that they aren't our match no matter how good they are at manoeuvering sail ships."

While they used to dominate with their skills, they became obsolete the moment ironclads were introduced. Claude was reminded of the deal with the kingdom to provide them with a fleet of ironclad ships and furrowed his brow once more. What could he do to skimp on that deal?

Moriad didn't notice his brooding and continued excitedly, "By the way, Chief, it's great that you're back. I happened to have something to request of you."

"What is it?"

"Well, didn't Madam Sonia finish researching armour-piercing rounds for us? I wanted to retire a few old ironclad destroyers to use them as target practice to test the capabilities of those rounds. While they shoot a perfect hole through sail ships just fine, we better prepare for ironclad ships with how the other Freian nations are also researching them. If armour-piercing rounds end up working out, we wouldn't have to worry about fighting other ironclad ships in future." Moriad tapped on his cigar to shake off the ash.

Claude froze. "Sonia managed to invent armour-piercing rounds?"

"That's right. During our last battle with Seaking, we noticed that our explosive shot only managed to harm the crew exposed on the deck. However, they had little effect on the thick boards of the ships. That's why we gave Madam Sonia some feedback and hoped she could help us find a solution through those thick hull boards.

"She agreed and began working on it. Last month, we received a shipment of 200 plus of those rounds and upon testing them, normal sail ships were shot through with a single shot and began to sink immediately. Now, I need some ironclad ships to test those rounds on, but Master Liboyd said we couldn't mess around without permission to decommission some ironclad ships from the military bigwigs."

"The master is correct. It takes us hundreds of thousands of crowns to build an ironclad for them to stay in service for at least one to two decades. The earliest-built ironclad has only remained in service for roughly six years. Decommissioning them for target practice is a huge waste of money. It's almost like you have too much of it going around. Looks like I'll have to audit your fleet's accounts to see where you're spending it all."

"No, Chief, you don't get it. After the Battle of Saint Lusk, our own ships suffered heavy damage and we only barely managed to sail back to Port Patres after three gruelling months. Repairs took another six months. However, our battle against the Shiksan navy allowed us to gain quite a lot of insight. So, for the newer ironclad ships, we focused on fixing a lot of weaknesses of the old design that were exposed through battle. In other words, we contributed to the development of ironclad ships.

"The destroyers made in the four shipyards at Port Patres are third generation. Didn't you find that Rageshark is much faster and more stable than Baldeagle, our old flagship? The destroyers behind us, Arrowfish and Flying Fish, and the ironclad transport ship Bullhead Whale are also among the newest ships we have produced. That's why they can keep up with our speed.

"There are around 30 first-generation and second-generation ironclads still docked at the kingdom's coastal area. The second-generation ships can barely keep up with the newest ones, but the first-generation ships can't even do so after repairs.

"Every time we set out on a patrol, it would feel like we're dragging dead weight behind us, whether it be just a normal flanking manoeuvre or a sudden attack. Not to mention, their loud and smoky steam engines make them easy to spot. That's why we want a few of them decommissioned for target practice or to be transferred to escort normal sail ships."

"Then, why don't you simply swap out the steam engines for new ones?"

Nowadays, even Claude didn't know how many improvements Liboyd made to the engines. All in all, it was said that the region's industrial complexes were powered by all sorts of machines like those engines. The engines specifically designed by Liboyd for ships were definitely not sold to other nations or factions.

Moriad smiled in resignation, "It's not possible. The whole bridge will have to be moved away and the ship will have to be taken apart for the removal of the old engines to be possible, not to mention the gears and pipelines that'll have to be reconfigured. Essentially, the whole ship will have to be overhauled. It would be far better to build new ones."

"Then, how many first-generation ships do we have now?" Claude stroked his growing beard stubble in thought.

"We have 22 of them, 14 of which were part of the Battle of Saint Lusk and were just repaired." As the admiral, Moriad was quite well versed on the ships in his service.

"Perhaps you can decommission all the first-generation ships and have the military council provide funding for third-generation ones to replace them."

"Really?! Will the region be willing to fund us? They said the five million crowns we got the last time was the last batch of funds we'll get. One million of that is Master Liboyd's research grant, another million will be used to heighten the technical capabilities of the shipyards, and one more million will cover the maintenance for the next three years. Of the two million we have left, we'll have to take out 400 thousand for the repairs after the battle and have only 1.5 million crowns left to build eight ships."

"Ironclad was initially planned to have 48 ships so that four flotillas of 12 could be formed. Each flotilla should have two ironclad patrol ships, eight destroyers, and two transport ships. Currently, you already have 52 ships in your fleet. Are you not satisfied yet?"

Moriad complained, "Chief, you don't get it. The first-generation ships have too many problems and often have to be sent back to the docks for checks. Even when we have enough for four flotillas of 12 ships to assemble, we'll always have to send a few more to the docks for checking after a voyage. Otherwise, I wouldn't lay in ambush for Seaking with only 20 ships. There isn't even enough for two flotillas, as the four other ships we'll need to tag along will be filled with problems.

"By the second generation, we managed to get a fix on the design and raise efficiency, but those require a huge overhaul every half a year as well, and each overhaul takes up to a month to finish. The eight shipyards of ours can never catch a breath. There will always be at least four to five ships docked and requiring maintenance.

"While we have four flotillas on paper, we need one to patrol our waters to prevent attacks by pirates or other nations on our coasts. Another will be occupied with escorting transport ships. The other will have to be split in two sub flotillas of six ships each to defend Northbay and the kingdom's coasts. The last one is being maintained and overhauled and will swap out with another flotilla when the time for their maintenance comes.

"That's why, Chief, there's nothing an admiral like me can do apart from optimising our maintenance schedules. Otherwise, we wouldn't even be able to mobilise two flotillas to respond to an enemy attack. I thought we planned to attack the Shiksan military port at first since they haven't officially called an end to the war, but I only just realised we don't even have enough ships and men for the task."

Claude didn't doubt Moriad's complaints were earnest. While Ironclad had been in service for five to six years, they were still the only fleet that possessed ironclads. Still, the problem remained that the first batch of ironclads was bound to have many issues. Otherwise, Liboyd wouldn't make so many improvements within the span of half a decade time and again.

"You have to first send the warships to Port Patres. I'll get Master Liboyd to refurbish those ships. According to our agreement with the court, we have to provide them with 16 ironclads within a year, among them including two patrollers, ten destroyers and four transporters--"

Before Claude finished, Moriad's expression darkened. He dropped his tomato and ignored it. "Chief, who signed that agreement with the kingdom? It's nothing short of betraying the region! The ironclads are our trump cards! If the kingdom has them, other nations on Freia will soon be able to forge them!"

Claude could only sigh and tell him about Bolonik agreeing to those conditions. They were already signed and fixed. There was no taking it back. With the enfeoffment complete, the fees were already paid for by that agreement.

Moriad instantly burst into a flurry of profanities.

"As the agreement stipulated that those ships must be the same ones as the ones we have in service now, I plan to have the first-generation ships refurbished and sent to the kingdom to reform Fearless," Claude explained, "I don't want the kingdom to know about some of our key technologies, such as the ballasts at the bottom of the ship, so I plan to have them revamped into storage space. I'm sure the naval officers of the kingdom will be more than happy with them since they use Fearless so often for trading to make a quick buck."

During the Battle of Saint Lusk, some seven to eight ironclads came under heavy cannon fire and cracks showed on their hulls. It was only thanks to the ballasts that they managed to sail back for maintenance. Without them, they would've long sunk.

"We'll give the kingdom these old ships and issue new ones for you. That way, we'll be able to lighten your burden on maintenance and spending, focusing instead on increasing your combat capabilities. We'll give the old ships away fast while we still can. Otherwise, we won't be able to hand these old ships over in two years' time.

"As admiral, you can work with Liboyd to see whether there are other key technologies we can remove from those ships without affecting their superficial combat capabilities. That way, we can hand over subpar ships that will become obsolete in five to six years' time.

"As for the rest of the first-generation ships, you may use them for target practice and ammunition testing. That way, even if there are any unexpected changes, we'll still be capable of destroying the kingdom's ironclads."

Moriad had calmed down by then, understanding Claude's current priorities. "Then, can we have enough funding for 22 third-generation warships? I'm asking this because the newest ships cost almost double to build thanks to the vast improvements made."

"Don't worry. We have enough funding to go around this time. After all, we managed to save an average of 380 thousand crowns per ship in this arms deal."

Chapter 537 - Operation Wildfire

After two years, Claude finally returned to Lanu. As he was reaching the city, the skies were darkening. Masonhughes asked him which home he wanted to return to. After some consideration, he decided to head to Covenbrun Manor, his love nest with Sheila. Sheila's full name was Sheirulati Covenbrun, so Claude decided to name that manor after her. The property was also owned under her name.

During the first half of last year, he tasked Sheila with taking the treasures they got from Nasri back to the region. She didn't return to Freia since then, choosing instead to stay in her manor researching the magic tomes and scrolls they obtained from the Nasrian royal family's collection. She was fickle. She suddenly felt like returning home after spending a good year with Claude on Freia. So, he sent her back with the excuse of escorting the treasures.

She was quite surprised to see him at the manor and hurried to prepare some food and a bath for him and spent a warm night with him, relieving him of his fatigue from the long journey. However, Claude had to get up early the next morning to head to the military council headquarters. Borkal had been waiting three days there for him.

The officers left behind to watch the region were all elated to see him return. After all, the five heads of the region had been on Freia and there was much that the ones left behind didn't dare decide themselves. For instance, they didn't know how to respond to the driving out of region merchants from the western coast. Claude's return finally relieved them of their uncertainty.

After greeting his officers, Claude went to his office. Someone had been cleaning the place to make sure it was dust free. He noticed that his white gloves were still clean after wiping it on the chair and desk. Nodding with satisfaction, he removed his cloak and handed it to Masonhughes. "Have Colonel Borkal come right now."

When he first disembarked at Port Patres, he wrote military headquarters a letter requesting Borkal to wait for his arrival there and asked him to prepare all information he collected about the colonies of the eight nations at the western coast to report to him. The purpose of his return was clear: he would be dealing with the embargo targeted at the region.

However, he didn't think he would remain stuck at Port Patres for four days instead of returning to Lanu immediately. During that time, he accompanied Moriad to see Liboyd for a discussion on handing the first-generation warships to the kingdom. While they already had a rough plan, they still had to go into the details and discuss what to remove and how they would refurbish them. That alone took three days, and he was held back by Liboyd who consulted him on many technical issues.

While Claude's expertise in that area couldn't compare to Liboyd's, he did have a couple great ideas from his previous life. Sometimes, he would accidentally inspire Liboyd by what he considered to be something really trivial. He only managed to escape after Liboyd was satisfied after consulting him for a whole day.

That delay was why Borkal had to wait for him for three days. He was so busy that he couldn't catch a breath, and Borkal was surely to be pissed and talking behind his back for letting him wait for so long.

Less than two minutes after Masonhughes left, Borkal came in with a large stack of documents. Only an old-time friend like Borkal dared act so casually around Claude. Nowadays, the latter was a Lord Militant and all officers saw him with undeniable respect, standing ramrod straight the whole time. Only Borkal didn't care about his rank much and did whatever he wanted.

After Borkal put them all down, he turned to get a bottle of fine wine from the rack. Claude shook his head at Borkal's unfixable shameless behaviour. He knocked on the wine glass with his fountain pen and said, "It's a shame, Boa, that you didn't take part in the war on the mainland. Otherwise, you would've gotten at least a hereditary Title and barony."

Borkal had to stay behind during the deployment to manage his own smuggling business at the western colonies as well as the secret trades of the wild-bull company, not to mention managing trade relations with the nikancha nation. Though, he did say he loved doing business much more than being on the battlefield anyway, so headquarters simply let him manage all the trades that couldn't come to light.

"You know I'm not the least bit interested in that, Claude." Borkal finally found a bottle he was satisfied with and popped it open for a drink. "Actually, my family is quite satisfied with the environment here on Nubissia and don't wish to go back to the mainland. Back then, my father was still quite homesick, but now, he couldn't be happier. He's busy setting the foundations and networks of our household business here now."

Claude didn't really mind being addressed by name by his friend. He picked a random file and flipped it through. "By the way, the embargo has been up for around four months now. How is it like over there?"

Borkal finished his wine and put his glass down. He firmed his expression and approached the desk, knowing that Claude wanted to get immediately to business.

"Well, how should I put it... It's real strict nowadays. More than 30 thousand have been penalised for attempting to bring contraband into those colonies, and most of them are small-time merchants like street peddlers, not smuggling companies. However, they usually get their stock from the smuggling suppliers and got caught by the constables. Now, anyone discovered with products from our region will be arrested.

"It's a good chance for the local officials of the western colonies to make money. They first fine the ones they arrested and punish them with unpaid labour. If they don't have money for the fine, their labour terms are extended by a few years. The rich ones can get lighter labour terms if they pay up. As long as they can feed the officials well, they'll be released after a night in detention." Borkal sat down in front of Claude's desk.

Claude pointed at the fruit wine and glasses on the tray Borkal just put his on and said, "You can take this here. Let's chat as we drink. Get another bottle if you want to when we finish this one."

Borkal, however, shook his head. "Let's talk business. We can have wine later."

"Fine. Then, tell me which nation started this embargo first?"

Borkal picked out a blue folder from his stack of documents and handed it over. "Like our previous analysis, the eight nations of the western colonies have had their markets dominated by our products thanks to normal trade and smuggling.

"Even our legit registered businesses at the western coast were making so much profit that it infringed upon the nations' bottom lines. Our merchants made so much more sales than their own thanks to our far superior goods and our companies there even facilitated the exchange for our paper currency.

"Thanks to the region winning the colonial conflict and exterminating more than ten Shiksan corps, the western colonies didn't take direct action despite being really unhappy with the situation, choosing only to state their objections. They didn't dare threaten war with us directly and strengthened their restriction on our products.

"Additionally, the products our legitimate companies sold weren't on their list of contraband, so they had no excuse to stop us from trading. Not to mention, our companies paid taxes wherever they were due, so there were no loose threads for those officials to grab onto.

"The main problem is the smugglers who are getting more and more audacious in shipping all manner of daily necessities we produce there. Our products are far better and more competitive than those shipped there from their nations, causing their goods to become unable to sell at all.

"One such merchant from Fochs even went bankrupt and jumped into the sea to end his life. Once that matter got big, Fochs' merchants complained to their king about it. The king then sent ambassadors to the other seven nations and established a united front to levy a heavy embargo against us, ceasing all trade whether legitimate or not."

Claude opened the blue folder and saw a rather thick collection of personal files containing information such as which colony they resided in, their names and ages, family members, assets, products supplied and through which channels. After flipping through a couple, he put them back on the desk. "Are these the smugglers you picked? They're all nikancha..."

"No, they're not nikancha. If you call them that, they'll challenge you to a duel to the death. To them, nikancha is a derogatory term. They call themselves the pamigar."

"Pamigar? Is there a difference? They're also mix-blood natives, right?"

"They are, but their skin colour is slightly paler than the nikancha's." After all that talk, Borkal was feeling a little thirsty, so he brought the tray over. "The western coast is unlike our region. The settlers arrived there more than two centuries ago. After the nikancha population there mixed with the settlers for so many generations, it's only natural that their skin colour would pale. Not to mention, many of the nikancha's apathetic traits have been weeded out of them thanks to proper training.

"Not to mention, the pamigar are far better than the nikancha in many ways. At least, they can learn and work hard for money and also feel a strong sense of responsibility for their family, much like us. I'm sure you won't see them as the same as the nikancha if you interact with them often enough. Pamigar, a word from their native language, means civilised, honest, trustworthy and fearless."

"So are they all pamigar?" Claude said, pointing at the blue folder.

Borkal took a few more sips and shook his head. "No, pamigar is only one of the few self-referential names. Two centuries of colonisation also caused them to adopt the identities of the respective colonising nations. They also inherit the same conflicts their nations have with other nations.

"For instance, the mix-blood natives in the Fochsian colony call themselves the lanstobuk, meaning brave warriors beloved by the waves and winds at sea. They're proficient in diving and fishing.

"The mix-blood natives in Lesnia's colony call themselves the losman, meaning herders or shepherds. The natives in Reliaro's colony are known as the jipkut, meaning runners and chasers of the light. They worship the god of fire. Only the natives from Moloshik's colony call themselves pamigar.

"Additionally, there are a few more different names in the colonies of the Kingdom of Carmenleon, Duchy of Wasilik and the Opsaro City-state Federation. They don't have a unified name for their mix-blood natives unlike the five previous colonies.

"Interestingly, Carmenleon and Opsaro have a history of fighting seven wars. It's known in the history books as the Centennial Seven Wars. Their citizens see each others as enemies, and the mix-blood natives do so as well. They can't bear the sight of one another.

"As for Lesnia and Carmenleon, they've gotten into conflict three times in the colonies, causing the native losman to hate the machaklin and doramana peoples in Carmenleon's colony.

"It's said that the machaklin once pillaged Lesnia's colony quite often and resulted in a massacre of tens of thousands of losman folk. After that, the losman lashed out for revenge, but hit the wrong target, causing enmity between them and the doramana to grow. That's how those three tribal folk's vendetta developed."

"It's far too complicated," Claude said with a sigh.

"That's true." Borkal poured himself another glass of wine. "In fact, I think much of their conflict is due to some intentional provocation of some party in the colonies. They should be of the same race like the unified nikancha.

"This blue folder here contains natives who have powerful connections, status, wealth and reputation. Apart from having skin colour a little different from ours, they're no different. Most importantly, they're quite ambitious and hope to form their own independent ethnostate.

"The western colonies are quite discriminatory against these mix-blood natives. For instance, Tazinger Nora Taganem on the first page here was sent to Moloshik to study by his father, but he was discriminated against because of his skin colour and dropped out to come back. His father is a minor noble and he managed to inherit the Title and assets of the household after his father died.

"In the colony of Moloshik, he's quite reputable, but he is often ostracised because of his nickname, the mix-breed baron. That's why he wants to form an independent nation for the pamigars and is trying to smuggle weapons to form a personal force. He has asked whether the region will support the founding of their nation. They hope that we can supply weapons and give them training to form a force that can drive out the colonies' troops."

"Do all these people in the folder have such ambitions?" Claude asked.

"Well, some do, some don't," Borkal said after some thought. "Tazinger Nora Taganem is the only smuggler that approached me about independence. Back then, I didn't really understand him and gave him a curt refusal. But when I had someone research his background, I noticed he was a prime candidate and took note of him.

"The others were picked because some of them have personal grudges, some want revenge for their families, and some are risk-loving daredevils. I'm not sure how far they'll go, but I can tell that they hate their colonies on account of being mix blood and hold dreams of changing the world.

"That's why I picked them to be candidates for Operation Wildfire. I trust that if we supply them with weapons support, they'll be able to cause a wave of new nations to form. Even if they fail, they'll give those eight nations lots of trouble so they'll be too occupied to care about the embargo."

Claude paced around his office in thought. "I'll leave Operation Wildfire in your hands and assign Bloweyk's Wolfang clan to you to work with and protect you.

"You'll get all the manpower and resources you need, but I don't want this operation to only cause a small spark. I hope to see that they'll really be liberated and form their own nations. That's the most beneficial outcome for the region."

Chapter 538 - Shiksan Captives

Operation Wildfire, as the name implied, was intended to start a huge fire with a small spark. Borkal was inspired when he saw a wildfire break out as he was travelling towards the western coast and came up with the plan on his voyage back. Due to the 200 plus years of colonisation on the western coast, the local populace had quite a lot of pent-up frustrations. They were just like a dried forest waiting to be set alight by the smallest spark.

Borkal had come up with the plan some three years ago, looking at whether the region could help start the fire to liberate the local natives. However, the region still had a good relationship with the western colonies back then and it was the peak of trade with them. Liberating the natives would negatively impact the interests of the region, so the operation was shelved.

The operation his childhood friend came up with left quite an impression on Claude. Back then, he even asked him what caused him to even have such a notion in the first place. It was only after hearing about the embargo that Claude understood what the plan was conceived in preparation for.

Borkal once told Claude of the things he saw and heard in the western colonies. Unlike the autonomous region, the colonies practised a discriminatory slavish policy on the natives. Any mix-blood native was born to be either a slave or a servant. Normally, settlers from Freia of pale-white complexion were regarded to have the highest status. Any coloured skin would be considered inferior, with darker being more inferior.

The 200 years of colonisation was nothing short of a mark of humiliation for the conquered natives. Nowadays, none of those natives in the western colonies were of pure blood. They were all of mixed heritage, like the pamigar, lanstobuk, losman, jipkut, doramana and machaklin, as well as other races like them.

Freians considered Nubissia to be a wild and untamed land suitable for exiling criminals to. Those living in their motherlands saw Nubissia as a risky place where riches were to be earned, and the mix-blood natives to be oppressed.

Those nations enacted quite a number of discriminatory policies against the natives there, such as forbidding them from joining the military and administration. The only vocation they were allowed to pursue was selling physical labour for low pay to keep their families fed. They endured countless suppression from the settlers and were either treated as slaves or servants. Even those that had their own lands had to pay heavy taxes and work hard labour.

However, quite a number of romantic and amicable relationships had been established between the natives and settlers over the past two centuries. For instance, Borkal's prime candidate, Tazinger Nora Taganem, had a father who was a hereditary baron of the Kingdom of Moloshik. He fell in love with his mix-blood maidservant, Tanzinger's mother, and conceived a child with her.

Tazinger's father was brave and cared not for the gossips and criticisms of others. Before he passed, he made sure to leave his Title and riches to his mix-blood son. However, ideals didn't have a place in reality. As a mix-blood person, Tazinger would often be discriminated against because of his skin colour. In time, he came to see himself as one of his pamigar brethren and began to harness his ambitions of liberating his people and founding a nation.

There were many natives like Tazinger in the western colonies. Some had personal grudges, familial grudges, and there were even some who had nothing but ambition, especially mix-blood smugglers. They travelled much and had seen the world, were rich, bold and of good local repute.

Those mix-blood influencers and talents were dissatisfied with the current state of the western colonies and wanted to usher in change. Even though not all of them harboured the same nation-building ambitions of Tazinger, they at least wanted to make it so that their race had equal status as the rest and were not discriminated against.

Claude knew that the embargo was a result of a unified front against the region by the western colonies. If he sent troops to war against any one of the colonies, he would be fighting against all eight.

Even with the region's invincible track record, fighting eight foes at the same time would never be a good idea. Perhaps it would still be worth a try if the territory of the western colonies combined was only as big as the Nasrian region. Claude didn't really think the colonial forces could do much to stop him anyway. According to reports in the past few years, the colonial forces at the western coast could be described as nothing but trash, just like the local garrison forces in the Aueran colonies back then.

The issue was that the western colonies had too much territory, being about ten times the area of the Nasrian region and four times that of the autonomous region's. With so much territory, it would take quite a lot of time for Thundercrash to push through to the very end, even assuming they would defeat their enemies with first contact. A campaign lasting more than half a year would put great supply strain on them. More crucially, there would be no way for them to hold the territory they conquered.

Not to mention, the total population of the colonies numbered more than 60 million. Even the natives considered themselves to be citizens of their respective colonial nations. If the region really engaged in war, there was a good chance they would be seen as invaders by the natives as well. It wouldn't bode well for them if the natives and settlers fought unitedly against them.

As a transmigrator, Claude understood how powerful a civil resistance could be. He wouldn't willingly court the ire of the populace no matter what. As Skri had put it, declaring war against the colonies also meant doing the same to the colonial nations back on Freia. Without at least a million troops, much funding and half a decade, the war would see no end. As such, the region definitely couldn't afford to fight that war.

No matter which colony they declared war against, engaging one would mean fighting against sixteen factions, eight on the colonial side and eight nations on the Freian mainland. Not to mention, the two corps couldn't be transferred back from Eastern Freia to fight that war. As such, the region had no choice but to endure the embargo.

However, that wouldn't stop Claude from carrying out Operation Wildfire and cause civil revolt in the western colonies. Sometimes, political situations were just that interesting. If the region declared war, then the colonies would unite against the aggressor.

However, the region accepted the embargo and didn't show any threat to the colonies. If a civil revolt sparked in one of the colonies at a time like that, the other colonies wouldn't help quell the revolt, but rather support and fan the flames. They might even secretly support the rebels so that their respective colonies could reap some gains from it.

Even the most secure defences could be crushed from within. As such, Claude decided to spark a civil revolt in the western colonies to free the natives and let them found their own nations. Whether they succeeded didn't matter, since it would still be more worthwhile than sending the region's own troops into war. If it worked, the region would support the newfound nations and also gain access to their markets.

For instance, while the nikancha nation had autonomy in name, they didn't have their own industries or a well-developed agricultural landscape. Everything was in a primitive state, and almost all they consumed had to be imported from the region, whether it be food, daily necessities, luxury goods, weapons, alcohol and so on.

Claude already had Borkal kickstart the operation. Their first target would be Moloshik's colony. They would fund and support Tazinger, the mix-blood baron, to be the liberator of the pamigar. They would provide large amounts of military gear and supplies for the formation of a folk of pamigar fighters and send retired veterans of the region into the colony under the guise of mercenaries to train and arm those troops in preparation for the fight for independence.

Borkal told Claude that the embargo created the perfect opportunity for local revolts to break out. The citizens of the colonies had already been used to enjoying the cheap and quality goods of the region. The government forbidding them from getting their hands on any in favour of their own expensive goods was the worst move they could make.

It was like a person who was used to having cake daily and was forbidden from consuming them all of a sudden, having nothing but black bread to eat. What's worse was the price of the bread was two times that of a piece of cake. The citizens of the colonies would no doubt feel they were being treated unfairly, especially the mix-blood natives, who were the ones most harmed from the policy.

As long as revolt broke out in even one of those colonies, it would soon trigger a series of springs across the western coast. The eight Freian nations would no doubt be channelling all their military resources nonstop to keep their colonies afloat. By the time they were worn out, the region could give the final push to support the rebel natives to form their nations by sending troops marching into the western coast.

However, it was still a little too early for the region to mobilise. Claude didn't want to let his troops join the revolt directly. However, that wouldn't stop Borkal from giving the rebels a sliver of hope. That way, even if they failed, they would still be filled with confidence at the thought that the region would support them with their forces.

After two days of discussions, Borkal went to prepare for this operation. As the western coast was strictly checking ships to prevent smugglers, Borkal was going to travel there by land. He would first go to the nikancha nation before crossing the border to the western coast. It was a journey that would take about a month.

Claude assigned Wolfang to him to keep him safe and get his brother something to do, lest he started drinking his sorrows away again at Anna Farmstead. Apart from that, he wanted to forge a new smuggling route to the western coast through the nikancha nation.

He returned to the region personally to deal with another important matter: the 500 plus thousand Shiksan captives who had served their labour terms in full and would regain their freedom.

The issue was that Shiks and Aueras had yet to sign a formal peace treaty and end the war. Theoretically, the two nations were still at war. Even though the two nations didn't border one another and wouldn't be able to easily come to conflict, they were still technically at war.

In traditional wars, the losers would send ambassadors to the victors to sue for peace, and the victors would get to show their magnanimity by engaging in friendly negotiations. Yet, Shiks wasn't willing to admit defeat. Majid III, despite having lost a humiliating million troops, still thought he hadn't lost and described Pillag's retreat with some 100 thousand troops as a strategic victory.

Given all that, Aueras couldn't take the initiative to send an ambassador to Shiks to initiate the peace process. Who knew if the mad Majid III would make excessive demands of them, thinking himself the victor. That would only come as a further insult to Aueras, so it was best to leave the state of war unaddressed.

That was the exact thing causing the region so much trouble, given all the Shiksan captives they held there. Since their labour terms were over, they should be released. But the two kingdoms were still at war and the region had no way of sending them back to their home country. So, all they could do was give them temporary identification documents for free movement within the region.

Over the past two years, most of the released captives were warmly welcomed by the various farms and factories within the region. They were young labourers, after all, and were a great help to soothe the labour shortage. But with the passing of two years, many Shiksans came to love life in the region and even became the sons-in-law of their bosses. They wanted to be registered as citizens and gain the same citizenship rights as other Aueran settlers.

Masonhughes sent Claude much information about these Shiksan captives. Skri had his own considerations about the matter. There were some 100 thousand released captives working in various industries in the region and they didn't cause much trouble and followed regulations. A good number of them wanted to be permanent residents and wanted to own their own land and start a vocation.

Some 100 thousand signed long-term labour agreements with the local farms and factories and stayed in a fixed location to work fixed shifts. These captives didn't have a fixed goal for their futures. Some gained technical expertise and wanted to remain in the region, while others hoped to return to Shiks.

There were another 200 thousand plus who were awaiting the end of the war to be repatriated to Shiks. The region grouped them together and arranged work for them with adequate pay. For instance, much of the railroad construction in the region employed these released captives. As they earned a much better salary doing that than in their country, they were quite stable and didn't cause trouble. They only wished for the war to be over so they could return to see their family once more.

What was troubling Claude now was that there were more than 100 thousand captives who requested to be repatriated to reunite with their families. There were some who wanted permanent residency and permission to go home to fetch their families to the region, and some who earned quite a bit and wanted to send money back to their families. Others wanted to visit their families before coming back to the region for work. The region could no longer afford to leave this issue unattended.

Claude rubbed his temples as his head ached. It truly was a rather troublesome matter. Who knew what their fates would be if they were sent back to Shiks. After all, the two nations were still at war. Claude wouldn't want the captives to be drafted again to become an enemy of Aueras and the autonomous region.

"Perhaps we can let them pick two thousand among them first to be sent back to Shiks as a test. If that goes well, we'll send the others back," Claude decided.

Chapter 539 - Tesoray's Future

Claude was busy with official matters for ten days before it was all handled. Just as he was about to take a few days off to rest, he bumped into Svenson, the son of the Ferd Manor's supervisor, Alek. The man was waiting for him beside a carriage.

"Why are you here?" Claude asked.

Svenson bowed as he spoke.

"Lord, the old madam heard you were back and wants you to go home to discuss some things."

Claude blushed. He'd stayed with Sheila the whole time since returning. He'd not gone home once. He might feel more at ease with his lover, but Ferd Manor was his home, it was where his wife and children lived. His mother was there as well. Despite that, he'd not been there in over two years. And instead of going back once he'd finally returned to the region, he'd stayed with his lover. He couldn't blame his mother for sending a servant out to fetch him.

"Alright, I'll come," Claude said.

He called Masonhughes over and had him send a guard to Covenbrun Manor to tell Sheila he would be staying in Ferd Manor for the time being.

Though the candles in the dining hall burnt bright, the atmosphere around the dinner table was dark and cold. Claude loved to talk as he ate, a habit from his old life, but at home, Madam Ferd wanted to practice noble etiquette and forbade them from talking. They couldn't even chew or swallow audibly. The only sound they could hear was the clinking of cutlery.

They were having a feast, but Claude had no appetite. He had a few casual bites then wiped his mouth.

"I'm done."

He moved to get up, but his mother stopped him.

"Claude, wait. I have something to ask you."

Claude lowered himself back into his seat unwillingly and poured himself half a glass of wine.

"What is it?" he asked after he'd taken a gulp.

His mother put down her silver fork and wiped her mouth.

"I heard you are now a hereditary count with your own county on Freia."

"Yes?"

"Well, you have no time to watch over the fief since you are so busy here, so myself, Kefnie and Tesorary are moving to Freia. We'll manage it in your stead. Tesoray is an adult now. It's about time he got some experience with such noble matters. He will eventually inherit the land, so it will be good if he knows how to manage it well when the time comes," his mother's gaze was that of a falcon as she spoke the last sentence.

Claude chuckled.

"Don't bother. I hold the land in name, but I have no right to independently manage the fief. All the new hereditary nobles have agreed to let the council manage all our fiefs jointly."

"What?!" His mother jumped from her chair, her nails digging into the wooden tabletop, "It's House Ferd's land! What business does the council have with it?! Write to the council tomorrow. I will not accept anyone but a Ferd managing Ferd land."

Claude's smile vanished. He leaned forward seriously.

"Mother, remember this well. That fief is mine, not the house's. I will decide who I put in charge of it, and you will not so much as peep about it. It has nothing to do with House Ferd."

"Claude, I know you hate me for letting your brother leave. But you're the house's future. You might not care about your future, but you must think about your son's future. Tesoray cannot continue his lackadaisical existence here in the region. He needs to be amongst peers: the kingdom's nobility. I am thinking only of his best interests."

Claude released a couple mocking cackles. His mother spoke of Tesoray's best interests, but she was sending him to the bear's cave.

"I will not speak unnecessarily," Claude said, shaking his head, "You do not understand what the situation in the kingdom is right now. I will not let Tesoray mix with the kingdom's ilk. He might have received some education in the ways of nobility, but he is not, not, prepared to deal with that scheming lot. They'd tear him to shreds."

His mother's face was crimson before he'd finished.

"How can you say that about your own son?! He's very smart, don't you know? I want him to meet a good noble lady fitting of his status. Someone of good breeding and good blood! We need a good marriage to secure the foundations for House Ferd's growth in the coming generations."

Claude's head shook again.

"Stop it, Mother. This is exactly the thing that pushed Bloweyk away. Do you want your grandson to run from the family as well? I have plans for Tesoray. You might be his grandmother, but I am his father. I have given his future much thought."

"Tesoray," Claude said, turning to his son for the first time since coming home, "Stand up. Tell me, what do you want to do with your life?"

The chubby youth, for his part, had not tried to attract his father's attention since the man had returned. To tell the truth, he was terrified of the man. He was the only person who'd ever laid hands on him, and he showed no mercy when he did, nor was he conservative with the things for which he beat Tesoray. He put hand to buttock for everything he found wrong with him, if he was too self-assured, if he didn't greet him well enough, if he'd been playing around with the girls, or if he'd been throwing his substantial weight around in town... Everything got a hiding. He'd learnt to control himself and behave after a while, but more importantly, he'd learnt to hide away from his father with his grandmother. He'd only made his relationship with his father worse by doing that, however. For a long time, his father had gazed at him with severe disappointment in his eyes, but a couple years ago even that had vanished. Now he just stared at him as if he was staring at someone else's kid.

He'd been doing everything he could to become a non-existence since the man had returned home. Now, however, the man's gaze was firmly set on him. Why did his grandmother have to have a fight with him whilst he was in the room?

There was no running away from his father once he'd set his sights on him, however. He'd learnt that the hard way, so he swallowed his angst and stood up. He gave another gulp, trying to push down his terror.

"I don't have any plans. But if you promise to let me be, I'll do my best not to disappoint you. Mother and Grandmother have done their best to teach me and I'm certain I can do a good job managing your fief."

His grandmother's face cracked in half with a giant smile.

"Look, Claude. He said he would do his best! Trust your son and let him try! He will elevate House Ferd to new heights in Aueras!"

Claude ignored his mother and glared at the pitiful hill of lubber that purported to be his son.

"Tesoray, do you know how I became Lord Militant, how I got my Title, and how I got my own county?"

Tesoray shook his head silently. His father had had a high status when he was born. Sure, he'd heard his father had become even more of a big deal since, but it had not changed much about his daily life, so he had no concept of exactly how important his father was, or how much more important he'd become since Tesoray's birth. He certainly hadn't experienced the rock bottom from which the family had risen. He'd always enjoyed the lap of luxury, as his current physical shape attested. Besides his father, no one had ever touched him; he'd absolutely never known any kind of hardship.

"Our ancestors were but peasant farmers. My grandfather lucked out when he volunteered for Stellin IX's army and earned a little merit. You know what happened to him and his merit? He drank it all away and died in a ditch. Your grandfather started his adult life as a peasant bureaucrat in Whitestag when it was barely a town. He worked himself to the bone for 18 years to become the town's chief administrator and a dignitarian. He had laid the beginning foundations for our family's possible future rise.

"He had greater ambitions than just laying the groundwork, however. He wanted to die a noble, so he conspired with his friends to find a trade route from Whitestag to the colonies here on Nubissia. He found it, a great contribution indeed, but none of them or their families were rewarded. Their discovery led to all the families' ruins.

"Your grandfather made one simple mistake, you see: he let his greed blind him to reason. The contribution wasn't enough for him, even though it would have guaranteed his ascension to the nobility. No, he also wanted to be rich, so he kept his discovery from the kingdom and organised a merchant convoy to head to the colonies and make a giant trade profit. His actions attracted pirate attention, and so they destroyed his convoy and locked down the trade route. They even made use of the passage to raid the kingdom's coasts.

"The kingdom responded with the navy and wiped them out, but discovered the trade route and that your grandfather had hidden it from them. He and all his co-conspirators were arrested, stripped of position and rank, and saddled with massive amounts of debt from the destroyed convoy. The only reason they weren't outright executed was because, despite all their mistakes, the trade route was still a substantial discovery. The shame of it all was too much and he killed himself."

"Stop it, Claude!" Claude's mother shouted.

She could not bear to hear about their sad, pitiful history. She especially didn't want to be reminded of what happened to her husband.

"Why not? What point is there to our suffering if our descendents don't learn from it? And our children should not forget where they come from. They must not think themselves above others. Tesoray, you are not a noble. You are a peasant, you are the descendent of a mere farmer. Your grandparents, me, your mother, we were all peasants."

"You were spared that life because of all my work. I left home to make something of myself when I was younger than you are now. I left for the army when I was just 18. Just six months later the First Great Eastern Freian War broke out. I fought on the frontlines, in the thickest, most bloody parts of that war for five years. Millions died, but I survived. And despite all that, despite all my suffering, despite all the people I watched die, all the friends I lost in that war, I only made it to captain.

"In that entire war, the first time I was not on the battlefield or on campaign was when I came home to marry your mother. My achievements caught Lord Militant Miselk's eye and I was sent off to be trained again for a year before being put in the new Ranger folk. I still remember reading about your birth in one of your mother's letters. I was so happy I went out drinking for the whole night with my comrades."

A proud smile bloomed on Claude's face for half a moment, then vanished.

"But I could not be a father. I was, and have always been, a soldier. Soldiers don't get to be fathers. We get to have children, sure, but we don't get to be fathers. We're always off fighting wars, always off protecting the kingdom. Shiks got antsy on Nubissia and we went to war again. Another three years of war, even further away from home this time. At the end of that I was finally a folksman. Your mother brought you, your grandmother, and your uncle here after the war. Your uncle served with me for some time after that as well.

"I'm not trying to compare life notes with you. I just want you to understand what has brought you to where you are today, what sacrifices gave you the life you have enjoyed. We are not nobles, we have never been nobles. Even if we bear Titles and names now, we are still not nobles. You can act the perfect gentile noble's son, but no noble from the mainland will ever consider you their equal, or worthy of their consideration. You will never be a noble, nor will your son. Your grandchildren might, if they're lucky, be considered nobles, but neither I, nor you, nor your children, will ever have that."

"What do you mean? Why will Tesoray not be a noble? You're a hereditary count now! You'll eventually go to the war god's kingdom when you grow old! He's your only legitimate successor! Are you not going to let him inherit your Title?!" his mother burst again.

"Inherit? Hah! Mother, you get the strangest ideas. What makes you think Tesoray will get everything when I kick the bucket?--" Claude turned his frigid gaze back on his son. "--Tell me, Tesoray, what is our house's pillar?""

"--It's... it's..." the youth stammered.

He had no clue what his father was talking about, but he didn't dare not answer. He mouthed like a fish out of water for several seconds whilst his mind creaked into motion.

"It's your hereditary Title and our assets here in the region?"

Claude's eyes dimmed even further, were that possible.

"That's what your grandmother's taught you, isn't it? If you honestly believe that, then our family will be peasants again before your children are grown up. I'm not saying this because I want to shock or scare you. I'm saying this because that's what I'm afraid of. One of the biggest mistakes I've made in my life, one of my greatest regrets, is letting your mother and grandmother have their way with you. I hope, I pray to the gods, that you are still salvageable. Let me teach you properly, probably for the first time in your life. Our family's pillar is not our Title; it's not our lands; it's not our fief; it's the military. We are a house of soldiers, not nobles. I pray you understand this. If I hadn't joined the army, we'd still be peasants today. We might be even less because of that debt your father left us when he offed himself.--"

Claude's mother opened her mouth to protest but Claude didn't give her the chance.

"--I had great plans for you once you turned eighteen. Unfortunately the war back on Freia stole me away before I could make the arrangements. Luckily it only took up 2 years, so it's not too late yet. You're 20 now, still young enough. Tomorrow, you will report to the recruiter and you will volunteer yourself for the army. You must become a soldier as soon as possible. That is the only way for you to have a future, my eldest son. It is the greatest gift I can still give you as your father."

"No! Tesoray can't join the army!" Kefnie shouted.

She'd been quiet the whole time, but she couldn't hold her peace any longer.

"Do you really want to march my son in front of enemy cannons like fodder? I will not allow this!"

"Kefnie's right, Claude. You cannot have Tesoray join the army. He's your heir. I will not allow this either!" Claude's mother chimed, glaring daggers at her son.

"Heir?" Claude smiled nonchalantly, "Like it or not, I am his father. I have every right to decide his future. If he will not volunteer, I, as Lord Militant, can just draft him. He will learn to crawl just like every other brat who joins. I will have the bad habits you've taught him pummeled out of his lubbery head. He will become a proper soldier and a proper man like my brother, Bloweyk. Despite what you did to him, the men still respect Bloweyk to the heavens and back!

"I do not expect anything great from Tesoray. I want him to at least not disgrace the family name. He should at least make it into our elite units on his own merit. If he cannot even do that, then I will never recognise him as my heir. And if he refuses to join the army, he will not be my son."

"You will NOT send him to the army!" Kefnie shrieked.

Claude gulped down the last of his wine.

"It's decided, Tesoray. You will be picked up tomorrow. You will go, or tonight will be your last night as my son. You will be the brave Tesoray Ferd, or you will be no Ferd at all. You will lose your surname, your family, and your freedom as the deserter you would be. You have tonight to make your peace and say goodbye to your mother and grandmother. I pray, for your sake, the next time we meet I can proudly call you my son. I pray you will be a proper man, not this baby-face whale who can only hide behind his mother and grandmother and cling to their skirts.

"Oh, and don't think you'll have it easy as my son. You will join with a different name and surname. From tomorrow morning on, you are a peasant's son. You have nothing to do with me. You will have to make your own way in the world; find your own comrades, and fight for your future by yourself. I'll acknowledge you again as my son when you're promoted to the rank of captain. Understand?"

Chapter 540 - Family Matters

Claude lay down on the grass in a daze, neither awake, nor asleep. Three children rolled about on top of him. He sometimes arched his back into a hill for them to climb on and at other times he let them stamp all over his face with their bare feet.

When he finally couldn't take it any longer, he rubbed his grizzled beard on their faces, causing them to cry for their mother. Angelina and Sheila came over and took the three, finally allowing him to catch a breath.

Sheila handed him an icy cup of blueberry juice.

"They're so cute..." Sheila said enviously as she watched Angelina and a maid handle the three.

"We can try and give you one as well, if you like," Claude said.

He was hiding at Anna's farmstead. He'd become the devil himself at home after kicking Tesoray to the army. Kefnie didn't even acknowledge his existence. That didn't trouble him much. What broke him was that his two other beloved children, Beuergarcy and Amelisa, had taken their cues from their mother and had been ignoring him as well.

His mother cursed him so hard she exhausted herself and was bedridden. She wished him dead every chance she got.

Claude could only lament that the two women who had once been the most important people in his life, alongside his sister, of course, were braindead. They had let their present go to their head and forgotten their past. His mother cursed death on him. She didn't stop to think that, if he died before he acknowledged Tesoray as his son again, the boy would never become a Ferd again.

Angelina had rushed over from her home to check on their mother. She wasn't in her room for long. When she came out she just shook her head and said the old woman would live another thirty years at least. She had just tired herself out a little. She wasn't actually sick, she was just too humiliated to show her face. She said the humiliation of having her noble son thrown out like old rags was too much to bear.

Kefnie had not said a word, as was normal for her, but her frigid eyes said everything on her mind. He got the hint and was out that evening. He had a couple men fetch Sheila and bring her to his sister's farmstead so they could be together.

One of the kids was Leo, he was Myjack and Angelina's. The other two were twins, Myr and Betty. They were Bloweyk and Adele's kids. Angelina had adopted the two after Adele's death. All three were the same age, three. They were at their most energetic and cutest.

They'd been timid and scared when they first met Claude and Sheila, but they quickly warmed up to them over the two days they'd been together by now. They now often dragged Claude outside to play. Sheila had grown green with envy because of it.

Angelina returned when the three were asleep. She sat down beside Claude and convinced him to write a letter to Maria on her behalf to thank her for her research journal. She said she would not let her down.

"Aren't you going to continue your magic experiments in Blackstone Arms Factory?" Claude asked, puzzled.

She shook her head. She didn't want to work on weapons anymore. She wasn't as skilled as Sonia, and it took too much of her time. She wanted to be home with her children, so she'd work on the herbalism research from the farm.

Claude knew better than to argue with his sister. She'd not been a timid girl since he'd left for the army decades earlier. As much as he knew she was worth at the factory, he was happy she'd chosen to leave that place. He felt bad for dragging her into his world of war and death, even if only second hand. She apparently didn't mind, however, besides the time it stole from her and her children.

Their conversation turned to less important things from there. She told him about what had become of the orphans they'd recruited years earlier. They'd all grown up and were all at least one-ring rune magi. She'd personally made sure they were absolutely loyal to Claude, and it was up to him to decide what their futures would hold.

There were thirteen of them. Apart from Claude's illegitimate son, Marcus, who was now a three-ring magus, the rest were not that talented. They'd trained for three years but were still just one-ring magi. Nine were ready to receive their basic spells.

Marcus wanted to join the army. His grandfather had held him back to be a helper. The old man wanted to pass on all his knowledge to his son and have him become an inventor like himself.

Four of the rest were girls. They'd been split as assistants between Angelina and Sonia. The rest were boys, now young men. They were Claude's to do with as he pleased. Two were talented with experimentation. They'd been put with Sonia for the time being and trained as rune magi. The rest were most suited to become battlemagi.

Sheila was very interested in their conversation, and even volunteered to train the battlemagi. Claude was all too happy to agree. They'd train under her until they were two-ring magi before joining the army to train under Bloweyk. They would be his greatest weapons.

Once they'd run out of topics, Angelina finally broached the matter of Tesoray. Claude smiled resignedly when the topic was brought up. Tradition was that the man took charge of childrearing and other household matters such as finance and the like. There was of course no lack of men who feared their wives and mothers, however.

Claude had been completely absent, however, and as such had never had the chance to be a father or husband. That was compounded with their rapid rise in social status. People constantly came around to curry favour with the family to get on Claude's good side. That had gone straight to his wife and mother's heads and they'd become shallow, prideful, and self-important. They became overly ambitious and decided they were going to make the family into a high noble household. They'd both forgotten that nobody else wanted that, and their blind pursuit of their ambition had driven Bloweyk's wife to death, and him out of the family.

Claude had hoped the shock of his brother's departure would wake his mother up, but she learnt nothing from it. Kefnie, whilst not as ambitious as her mother, was set on making her son inherit Claude's position and wealth. Claude had refused to play along, however. As a result his mother and wife had conspired to force Tesoray through by getting him connections with the mainland's nobility. Surely Claude couldn't refuse his son if he had the backing of Claude's peers.

Claude had always been quite disappointed in his eldest son. His mother and grandmother's coddling and spoiling had turned his child rotten. He was raised into a brat. He'd often wanted to give him more than just a thorough hiding, but his mother always got in the way. He was not home often, either, so what little good he could do during his short stays home, was undone by the time he finally got back again.

He might have been absent, however, but he'd never been out of the loop. He'd made sure he had eyes and ears in the manor, and that they updated him regularly. The manor's head butler, Svenson, the guards, and several of the other servants, were all his agents. The information he got from them was behind his decision to put his son in the army.

He could easily have exempted his son from the draft, and his wife and mother had expected him to do just that. The thought that he might have to serve in the army never even crossed Tesoray's mind. As such he'd never bothered learning the basics he'd need to get somewhere in the army. He had always put on a good show for his mother and grandmother, but he was really a very vile character.

Lust was normal for young men, but most learned to control themselves, at least well enough that it didn't affect their reputation. Tesoray had never learnt that self-restraint. He'd pushed down every maidservant that caught his eye. Claude knew of seven, but he was certain there were at least as many more he hadn't tracked down yet. He'd had to buy their silence with more than minor sums of money.

Tesoray, despite his blubber, was well kempt, but he frequented Lanu's taverns way too often. He'd even taken to reserving barmaids once his playdates with the housemaids were put to an end. Claude's mother only learnt of his escapades once one of the barmaids became pregnant and tried to extort them.

Tesoray knew just what to say to his grandmother, however. He quickly spun a tale of being tricked while he was drunk. He waxed pathetically about not even knowing if the kid was his. His grandmother, ever the fool for her offspring, bought it and bought the maid's silence and made her vanish.

It would have been bad enough had Tesoray only had trouble with controlling his lust, but he didn't even have the spine to take responsibility for his rampages. He'd become an exemplary noble, alright. Claude's mind was made up once he learnt of that particular episode.

What better rescue service was there than the army? If the army couldn't shape Tesoray up, then nothing would and it would be better to toss him out of the family entirely.

He expected his mother to be against the idea, but he didn't expect her to have the arrogance to suggest putting him in charge of Claude's fief. What right did those two have to covet his things?

He couldn't hold back a giggle at the thought that they were scheming to have Tesoray take over 'in the event of his untimely end'. If Tesoray got a hold of the reins as he was now, the family would really be peasants before his children were grown up.

Angelina's mood was sullen when Claude finished his explanation. Their mother wasn't like that when they were young. Claude had taken over the household after their father's suicide, and Angelina when he left for the army.

She saw the same spoiling in Bloweyk had now happened with Tesoray, however, but back then she and Claude had been there to reign the kid in and keep him on the right path. Neither were there for Tesoray, however. She'd thought Kefnie would be a moderating force as they'd been, but she'd instead been poisoned by their mother as well and had become part of the problem.

"Is Tesoray doing well?" Angelina asked, bringing her mind back to the present.

He shook his head.

"He's average, though I suppose for him that's quite the achievement. He got beat up badly on the first day and he's been in the infirmary since. It's his fault though. He was stupid enough to try and bully a smaller soldier. He forgot that he is in the army now, and soldiers know how to fight. He's called Traykli now. He is nothing of us until I acknowledge him again. Remember that."

Angelina rolled her eyes. Clearly he was still something of Claude. Claude didn't bother with normal recruits.

"I didn't interfere," Claude chimed defensively, knowing his sister's thoughts, "I only have a couple people keeping an eye on him so I can stay up to date on what's going on. I have no expectations for him to become like Bloweyk. If he can get rid of his current rot and become a good soldier I'll be happy enough. A loyal guard dog is good enough."

"What about Beuergarcy?"

Beuergarcy was five years Tesoray's junior. He was currently in Lanu Middle School.

"He's different from Tesoray. He's very quiet. He prefers books and studies. I'll have him enter the royal capital's college after he graduates."

Claude, while not disappointed with his second son, was very unhappy that neither of his children were turning into proper military men. He was beginning to suspect a wealthy childhood was not conducive to rearing strong men.

While Bloweyk had been the unbeatable physical stream student in school, Claude's two sons were the silent, civil type. Tesoray had been acting the part, but Beuergarcy was genuine. Perhaps their privileged life had deprived them of the risky misadventures a child born without a silver spoon was granted.

He spent the next ten days at his sister's. On the tenth day he heard from Lanu that Bolonik, Henderman, and most of the representatives had returned. They were accompanied by Myjack and some ten other generals.

Only Skri, Bernard, and 30 councillors were still in Northbay. They had been tasked with managing the new fiefs. Eiblont had also remained as Thundercrash's acting corpsman and Birkin was in Polyvisia with Monolith.

Myjack and the other generals hadn't had much of a choice in their return. The ministry of the army's mass promotion had added 22 major-generals to their ranks, and made the 8 old generals into lieutenant-generals. The sole previous lieutenant-general had been made a general. Thundercrash and Monolith had no need for so many generals. All the positions were already filled.

Fortunately, eight major-generals and three lieutenant-generals wanted to retire. Taking into account the fact that Bolonik would be leaving the military administration for civil government, Claude decided to do another reorganisation, so he'd recalled the majority of the generals.

Myjack returned to deal with the daily duties in headquarters, with the generals he brought back taking up various posts in different departments. Some became Claude's top strategists to work on Operation Wildfire.

Claude had no choice but to leave his relaxing life on the farm behind and head back to Lanu.

Chapter 541 - Reorganisation and Voluntary Folk

"Master of Communications, Major-General Alfred Bor Alexander, Master Inquisitor, Major-General Andweck Kor Yewejiz, Master Cartographer, Major-General Ridkham Lor Auwelot, Master of Intelligence, Major-General Fodres Way Kleidelar, Instructor-general, Pedraik Schuh Babizeik, Master-at-Arms, Major-General Mantweit Mar Penakro, Master of Logistics, Major-General Siegfeld Mor Vincent, Adjunkt Master of Logistics, Major-General Banklordon Zi Altro, Chief of Security, Major-General Yorkt Shaol Sildiss, Master of Finances, Major-General Seinarnoff Wai Bakum, Chief of Human Resources, Major-General Bolizia Teik Maltok, Master of Military Affairs, Major-General Kandwok Sei Boklut, Master of Strategy, Major-General Natass Bar Lawakoss, Elite Strategists, Major-General Drivick Arn Weyblon, Major-General Sabolir Wey Klinsdon, Major-General Sibylos Tar Borliot, and finally, Master of Medicine, Major-General and Intermediate Herbalist Perunt Arr Birdok..."

On the 21st of the 8th month of Year 602 in the headquarters in Lanu, Claude held the first meeting of the elite military council. He revamped the various departments, compartmentalising and atomising most aspects of the army into 12 departments and one central infirmary and named their heads.

The logistics department was most affected. It was split into the departments of armory, security and finances. Thereafter was the department of intelligence, which had a division split off for cartography and surveys. While a few new departments were created, they were all standardised and assigned specific tasks. A few redundant administrative officers were also discharged to cut down on bureaucracy.

"Lieutenant-General Myjack shall take over as the Master of the Forces and deal with daily affairs. Next, we will make experimental changes to the organisational structures of the two corps to match relevant and current demands. Additionally, the department of intelligence will have to increase their network in the western colonies and monitor Operation Wildfire's progress."

Claude made sure most of the new heads were originally from Thundercrash. The eight major-generals and three lieutenant-generals who retired were all from Monolith and used to be Bolonik's subordinates. Claude wasn't intentionally trying to discriminate against them on that part. It just so happened that the people he chose were the best fit for their roles.

Claude was the youngest among the five heads of the autonomous region, and the officers he promoted in Thundercrash were also young and good at adapting to new tactics and developments. The elder high-ranking officers who were more stiff in their approach had been transferred to the local garrison forces. That was another reason for Thundercrash's offensive strength.

Bolonik was more than ten years Claude's senior, for instance, and prioritised defence, which was a trait that spread to his corps, Monolith. So, the officers he counted on more were stable and older, being mostly about his age. Some were even older than him, all beyond the age of 55. Now they had been promoted to generals and made hereditary barons with their own fiefs, they were at the peak of their careers. There was no higher peak for them to conquer. They could still improve their fiefs, and had much work to do on their nobility, so they decided to retire from the army and focus their efforts there.

The young officers were sharp and dared to take risks, while old officers were more reliable and confident. Each had its advantages, making the two-corps structure of the region's military a rather unique set up. However, most of the old officers in Monolith decided to retire, which was quite helpful to Claude's initiative. He picked many younger officers to take over. Otherwise, Claude would have to deal with the senior soldiers and could only 'advise' them on their approaches rather than educate.

Having dealt with the departmental revamps, Claude turned his efforts to unit structures. As both the main forces and garrison forces had switched out the old rifles and cannons for new ones, a huge strain was put on logistics. Claude tried to implement the insights he gained during the war.

The region's army still relied on traditional unit layouts focused on musketry, which had a heavy emphasis on swarm tactics. So, the units had to constantly maximise the number of men under an officer's command. For instance, a tent of twelve was created because it was the maximum number of men a tentsman could effectively command.

Claude had always felt that it was a little too many people. Since they started using Sonia 591s, a tent's firepower was greatly boosted. Having twelve men in a tent was beginning to limit the agility and mobility of the individual units, so he decided to decrease the size of a tent to eight people, with the tentsmen being at least of sergeant-major rank and the vice tentsman being at least master-sergeants.

Additionally, Claude had wanted to make all units adopt the three-three ratio instead of the former four-four ratio, i.e. three tents to form a band, three bands to form a clan, three clans to form a tribe all the way to a corps. However, the proposed change came under heavy objection by the other officers. After some consideration, he didn't move forward with that change.

So, they ended up with eight-member tents. Four tents formed a band, which was led by a bandsman of at least the rank of a second lieutenant and accompanied by an orderman that doubled as an adjutant, a guard, a signaller, and a medic, making a band contain a total of 37 people. Four bands made a clan led by a clansman with the rank of first lieutenant or captain, aided by an adjutant, two guards, one signaller, one medic and one cannoneer tent of six men armed with one new light-infantry cannon, with 160 men in total.

Four clans formed a tribe with a tribesman of captain or major rank, aided by an adjutant, an orderman, three guards, six strategists, twelve support staff, one logistics tent of eight men, one tent of eight signallers, one tent of eight enforcers, one logistics tent, one tent of eight medics, one tent of eight guards, and one band of 30 cannoneers armed with eight light-infantry cannons, totalling up to 740 men.

Four tribes formed a line, whose linesman was a lieutenant-colonel or a colonel, aided by an adjutant, an orderman, 16 strategists, 32 support staff, one logistics band, one enforcer band, one guard band, one tent of eight medics, a direct-command clan of 160, and a clan of 145 cannoneers armed with 16 light-infantry cannons, totalling up to 3485 men. Main combat lines had an extra fifteen members, rounding up to a total of 3500.

Four of those lines formed a folk, headed by a folksman of colonel or major-general rank, aided by an adjutant and an orderman. Each folk headquarters would have twelve departments mirroring those of the force headquarters with a head and vice head each, four administrative officials, and twelve support staff. They would have a total of 216 people. Each folk also had a clan of guards, a clan of signallers, a clan of enforcers, a clan of constables, a clan of logistics staff, a clan of support staff, two clans of heavy transport crew and a band of 35 healers.

Additionally, each folk would also have an independent enhanced tribe numbering eight hundred and a tribe of cannoneers with 680 members and 64 light-infantry cannons. The whole folk in total numbered around 17 thousand men. If the stablemen, vets, kitchen staff and other non-combatants were taken into account, there would be around 18 thousand.

Claude knew that the two corps had around 35 thousand men per folk, which was far too much. Noncombatants occupied a third of that number and rendered them rather bloated and inflexible, also putting a lot of stress on supplies and logistics.

For instance, in the battle at Polyvisia, Claude used a line of troops to resist a corps of the Union. Even with properly fortified defensive walls giving the defenders great advantage, they still suffered quite a lot of unnecessary casualties. Back then, they didn't have much of a choice due to their inferior numbers. Not to mention, it would be overkill to fight an enemy corps with only a folk back then. It would be too easy to scare them away instead of leading them into a trap.

However, a line of 5500 soldiers against an enemy of 60 thousand wasn't exactly sufficient. Though, sending two lines to fight could cause the enemy to be too cautious and notice the trap. Back then, Claude hoped that he had a folk that numbered around 12 thousand which he could command like his own body.

This time, he shrunk a folk to around 18 thousand men, basically half the number from before. That way, even if they had four folks instead of two, each corps coupled with two direct-command lines, their total number of troops per corps wouldn't exceed 90 thousand. It was still far better than having four folks of 150 thousand troops in total in Thundercrash right now, which was a huge load off military spending and a solution for the lack of positions for generals to hold.

Despite finishing the revamps, he couldn't implement them immediately. Claude decided to use Monolith 3rd and 4th Folks that were left behind in the region as an experiment for that structure. When the older soldiers and officers retired, he formed a folk numbering 18 thousand men and ran various training programs and drills to test out the new structure's effectiveness and responsiveness to commands.

The days flew past rather quickly. Soon, Claude received word from Borkal and Bloweyk. They had travelled two long months to finally reach a small path that led to Moloshik's colony at the western coast and finally met with the mix-blood baron, Tazinger Nora Taganem.

Tazinger was elated that the region would support him. For the sake of the pamigar's liberation, he was willing to form a liberation force even if it meant his bankruptcy. The only difficulty was how none of the pamigars had military training. They would need at least half a year to finish training for their fight to be remotely impactful.

That was a little too long than the region would've liked. Not to mention, having tens of thousands of pamigars gather and train in one area made it easy for Moloshik's colonial troops to discover their plans. So, Bloweyk suggested recruiting voluntary soldiers to fight for the pamigar. At the very least, they would try to establish a foothold by taking some territory for themselves and buy time for training as the battle was ongoing to get the best results.

To Claude, the hard part of Operation Wildfire wasn't inspiring a wave of rebellion among the local natives. Instead, it would be preventing the colonies from tracing it back to the region. It wouldn't be a problem to send officers and voluntary fighters to train and help the pamigar. The issue was they couldn't use the region's signature new weapons for the fights.

First, ammunition would be a rather inconvenient problem. And if the new weapons ever fell into Moloshikian hands, then the region would have no more excuses. Everyone would conclude that the region was the faction supplying those weapons to intentionally sow chaos, since they never sold them to anyone else.

So, all the region could provide was old-fashioned muskets and mortar rounds, but no new weapons.

However, there were no longer as many muskets in the region. The Aubass Mark 3s that remained had been shipped back to the mainland to the three main corps of the kingdom to fight the Union. Even though the war was over, the region's forces couldn't exactly request the muskets to be returned.

Having no other choice, Claude got Weyblon to extend factory operation hours to produce 100 thousand precision-shooting muskets within two months to fulfill that urgent need.

But his problems didn't just end with obtaining the muskets. Instead, they were only the beginning. The soldiers that were used to the new weapons wouldn't be happy to be using muskets in battle. That would negatively impact the number of volunteers recruited to fight for the pamigars.

During the forces' council, Head of Strategy Drivick suggested that they recruited the Shiksan captives as voluntary soldiers to fight for the pamigars in their war of independence instead.

He justified it with three reasons. First, the Shiksan captives had served their terms and were free men, but a peace treaty hadn't been signed with Shiks. So, they couldn't return home. If they were willing to fight for the pamigars, the region had no right to deny them.

Second, they were most used to using muskets, so they would have no issues training and fighting with them.

Third, and most crucially, letting the 100 thousand plus Shiksan captives get residency in the region was a huge issue of contention among the council members. Those that supported it wanted fresh manpower for the region, and those that opposed argued that it would be akin to giving the same rights to citizenship to former enemies of the region. It would be too good for them to get free land or property like normal troops since they were not citizens who contributed to the region in any way.

Thus, Drivick said any captive that was willing to join the voluntary folk should not only be compensated highly with their salary, but also automatically become a citizen of the region once the fight was over and gain rights similar to Aueran citizens.

He believed that there should be enough volunteers among the 100 thousand free captives to form a folk of 30 thousand. He said he would be willing to lead to Moloshik's colony to start the fight to liberate the pamigars.

After some short discussions, Claude decided to give Drivick's plan a try and made him folksman of the voluntary folk. He would also take care of organising the folk before leaving for Moloshik's colony after the arms were produced.

Currently, the region would be funding the voluntary folk themselves. According to Borkal's agreement with Tazinger, the pamigars would pay the cost back after their nation was formed. After all, the baron wasn't able to afford such a huge expense given his current status.

As Claude was dealing with all those matters, he received Svenson's report from Ferd Manor that Madam Ferd and Kefnie had packed up their luggage and were prepared to leave for Whitestag with Beuergarcy and Amelisa.

Chapter 542 - Escort and Transport

Claude was quite frustrated with how his family was constantly causing trouble. Why were they going back to Whitestag at a time like this? It was still nothing but ruins and the day it might be rebuilt was still years away. Not to mention, the old inhabitants of Whitestag had been scattered during the civil war. Kefnie and his mother would essentially be going back to a completely foreign town. He couldn't take care of them if something happened over there.

He had no choice but to rush to the nearest train station. The two women were heading to Port Cobius by train, from whence they would go to Freia by ship. Heaven only knew how they'd managed to get the tickets without even Svenson hearing about it. The first thing he heard of it was when they were marching their baggage out the door.

Claude called for his adjutant, Masonhughes.

"Send someone to the department of intelligence. Find out who conspired with those two damned women!"

Claude was stumped by the scene he saw as he barged into the train station. The two women looked like a pair preparing to go on vacation, not move to a new continent. They had reserved an entire train wagon. Several dozen people had also come to send them off, mostly ladies who frequented the manor. Butler Alek was there as well. He was busy listening to Claude's mother who was animatedly instructing him.

He forced a smile and ignored several people who turned to greet him. He squeezed past the ladies as inconspicuously as he could, but someone still managed to cop a feel of his groin before he made it through the crowd. He wondered if they were just indulging themselves, or trying in some twisted way to tempt him since his wife was leaving.

His mother's bright face darkened the moment she saw him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm confused. Why are you going back to Freia when things are so much better here?"

Much as Claude had come to dislike his mother, he couldn't just let her walk out without a fight, especially not with such a crowd now staring at them.

"I am going back to see your father. We haven't cleaned his grave in years," she said with a wistful expression, "Aren't you busy? Go back if you have nothing important to say."

"I've cleaned Father's grave several times," Claude said.

It was the truth. He'd cleaned his father's grave every time he'd passed through Whitestag. The cemetery was the only part of town untouched by the war.

"Why is Kefnie going with the children as well? Amelisa is too young for such a journey."

Kefnie hugged her daughter and turned away, still not willing to talk to him. Their daughter was very excited. She was just over three and very interested in the crowd. As for his 15-year-old son, Beuergarcy, he sat in the corner of the wagon, his face buried in his book.

"Kefnie got a letter from her sister, Kesline, saying the family had returned to Whitestag. Her husband Jerad is now stationed there. She wants to go see them and obviously she can't leave the children here alone," his mother said forcefully, "Go back. There's nothing for you here. Don't get in our way. I still want to talk to a couple people."

It had been just six months since Kefnie had heard from her sister again. The latter had been missing since Whitestag's fall. She had explained in her first letter that Storm had sided with Hansbach and dragged Jerad along. He came across an old friend of his from his days in the Shark gang. Together with a bunch of others they stole three ships and sailed for Whitestag. From there they fled with their families to an island Storm had conquered in the past and started a privateer fleet.

Jerad had been in the region on several occasions and checked on the family, though he'd never entertained the thought of asking for help. His companions would never have accepted Claude's help. They did not like either side of the civil war, but they liked the region even less.

Most of the men returned to the navy once the war ended. Stellin XI didn't trust them, however, and exiled them in all but name to the Ibnist Plains on patrol duty. They were also often unpaid. Various excuses for the delay in their salaries were always abundant. Jerad had considered deserting and returning to his life as a privateer and smuggler on numerous occasions, but Fredrey I eventually started thinking of them again, especially once the Union invaded.

Jerad's flotilla at the time only had ten light warships. The majority of the fighting happened on land, but they did have a couple opportunities to earn some merit, of which they made full use. The kingdom now finally had money again, and they'd started rebuilding the navy. Old veterans like Jerad were also quick to get promotions to fill up the swelling ranks of senior positions.

Claude had already been on frigid terms with his wife when the letter arrived, so she'd not shared the news with him. Kesline had written again once they'd returned to Whitestag and asked her sister to come for a visit.

Claude wanted to tell them to wait a little longer so he could finish his business and go with them, but his mother couldn't care less about what he had to say, and Kefnie acted like he didn't exist. Claude would have thrown a fit if they were alone, but his mother had been prepared for his possible attendance and packed the wagon with ladies who'd come to send them off. In the end, Claude was forced to leave them be.

"My lord..." Alek said as Claude stepped off the wagon.

Claude nodded a curt greeting.

"How are you doing, Alek? What did my mother ask of you?"

"I'm doing well, My Lord," Alek answered with a graceful bow, "The old and young madams told me they will be staying in Whitestag for some time. They asked me to arrange to have the tobacco factory's money sent to them every half a year."

Claude had left Kefnie in charge of his shares and assets in the region and given her three tenths of the tobacco factory so she would have money to manage the household. It was a substantial fortune, up to ten thousand crowns in a good month.

He couldn't believe they still wanted to keep his money even after running away. He had initially planned to drag them back to the manor, but they'd been prepared for him. He couldn't do that in front of so many bystanders. He'd become the region's laughing stock if he aired his dirty laundry like that. There was no stopping them now.

The train blew its whistle, ready to depart. The ladies bid the two women farewell and got off the wagon. Claude made to jump aboard, but Alek stopped him.

"Let them go, My Lord," he said with a shake of his head, "I heard what happened. I believe you were in the right, but there is no calming the madams' anger this time. Let them go and blow off steam in Whitestag.

"Don't worry, I have arranged an escort and guard for them. Staff-Sergeant Kester hired seven gunmen to keep an eye on them. They're all veterans who'd worked in the tobacco factory before retiring. You can trust their loyalty. Svenson has also let them have several servants. You won't lose track of them, My Lord."

Claude sighed and gave in. He'd clearly stepped on his mother and wife's tail when he'd thrown Tesoray into the army. They were enemies now in all but name. Alek was right, if he kept them here their hatred would only brew and ferment until it exploded. Best to let them go and blow off their steam somewhere else.

Claude left before the train finished its departure and returned to army headquarters. A report was waiting for him on his desk when he stepped into his office, detailing the itinerary of his family's journey and how they'd arranged it.

A councillor by the name of Blaius Willisdor had helped them. His family came from leather tanners and shepherds. They were the cofounders of a shipping company that operated between Port Cobius and Whitestag. They operated the only passenger ironclad on the route, and it was quite the talk of the town. The ship had just come out of drydock and was about to sail on its maiden voyage. Blaius had invited many of his relatives to join him on the voyage. He, his wife, Martha, and their children would take their ship to Whitestag, and from there go to the royal capital.

His wife was a family friend of his mother and wife, and always attended their soirees. She'd told the two women of the ship's voyage as soon as she found out, and the two had twisted her arm to get them tickets.

Blaius was all too happy to oblige, thinking it a great chance to build connections to Claude via his family, and even reserved a luxury wagon for their train ride to the port city.

That had been why not even Svenson had known of their scheme.

Claude put the sheet down, speechless. If Blaius knew what he'd actually done, he would be hiding behind a tree on the pastures where his family had once herded whatever it was they herded.

There was no stopping the women now, however. The proverbial ship had sailed, and soon the literal one will have sailed as well. He could only hope they'd come to their senses after cooling down, though he seriously doubted they would after they'd spent so many decades in their fantasies. Svenson was with them, so they would at least not want.

And with the guards and them being on an ironclad the voyage was as safe as any could be. They were also not sailing alone. They would be sailing with the military convoy that was taking 200 thousand new rifles and 10 million rounds to the mainland, a hundred warships in all. And then there was the flotilla of ironclads that would be sailing with them as well. And their route was one of the safest ones between the two continents.

Claude rubbed his head, sighed, and shoved the matter aside. He instead turned his attention to another piece of paper on his desk; an eagle message from Borkal.

He was reporting on the embargo and patrols along the western coast. There were no viable smuggling routes anymore, so they could not do anymore smuggling into the western colonies.

The embargo had been airtight for half a year by now, so there were no more region products in the markets. The legal products from places like Moloshik, however, could not replace them, and the situation had caused several serious riots. They'd all been quickly and brutally suppressed, however.

Borkal also reported that the pamigar youths' training was going very well. The materials they used were very expensive, however, and since they had to do everything in secret, Tazinger had been unable to keep up with the demand. Borkal requested Claude to send them a shipment of supplies to relieve their shortage so the training could continue.

Claude massaged his temples, feeling another headache threatening. This was derailing his plans again. The youths were supposed to source their supplies themselves, but that plan had gone down the drain almost immediately. Claude considered his options for a while, fighting back the headache that throbbed behind his eyes, then rang the bell.

Masonhughes came in a few moments later and Claude had him summon Councillor Anderclost Leigh Joist.

Anderclost was the driving force behind this current initiative. He'd been the one who'd forced through the decision to go to war against the colonies in response to the embargo. He had not originally been Leigh Joist, but he'd taken his middle name when he was made a hereditary baron. He owned 17 manufacturies, all producing daily necessities, and heavily reliant on the colonial market, which meant the embargo struck him the worst of all the councillors.

Anderclost arrived about an hour later. He was quite curious to know why he'd been summoned. The two had met on a couple official occasions, but they were only barely acquaintances.

"I trust you know to keep what is about to be discussed in absolute confidence. I'll hold you personally responsible if a single word of this leaves this room," Claude said, skipping the pleasantries.

Anderclost opened his mouth, but Claude waved it shut again. He waved him over to the map and briefed him on Operation Wildfire.

"We have a secret path into Moloshik by land. You can use it for your smuggling operations, but you must help us move some supplies. It's not that we can't move the supplies on our own, but it would be best if the army's name wasn't tied to it, should it be caught.

"If you're caught with the stuff, it won't affect our operation, but if we're caught, it'll start war before we're ready."

"Enough said, Lord Militant, I'll do it! Let me take care of it!" Anderclost exclaimed, slapping his chest enthusiastically.

Chapter 543 - Court Case of the Wood

"From the city of silver, Moknad, in Vebator, to the nikancha nation, there's a path near the border wide enough for four-wheeled carriages. It took nikancha four years to build it. They've been using it to get their minerals to us.

"We can use it to get to the interior of the continent. Once you get to the Lomonkdor Mountains, however, the rest of the way can only handle workhorses. The road's too narrow and the turns too tight for wagon or carriages. And don't count on the nikancha for help. They'd rather rob you than help you. You could try to expand the road yourself if you want, but you'd have to take the labour force with you yourself as the nikancha aren't interested.

"If you wait on us to get the job done, it'll be two decades before you get to travel the path. As for the toll, we've agreed with the nikancha to pay one one-thousandth of the value of the goods."

Master of Intelligence, Major-General Fodres, took over from there. He was currently introducing the secret path in detail. It wasn't that the region didn't want to control the path; they didn't have the budget to do the expansion work. Not to mention, using workhorses to ship goods was too costly. Feed wasn't cheap.

There was little choice, however, so the best way was to split the costs with a partner. Anderclost seemed the logical decision. Fortunately, he immediately understood the profits potential and agreed even before hearing the details.

He knew it would be a hefty investment to finish the roadworks, but the potential profits more than made up for it.

Since the sea wouldn't work, they would go by land. With the western colonies pumping all their attention onto the coast, they were sure to neglect their landward borders. Anderclost believed that as long as he could get his goods, and the army's supplies, over the mountains undetected, he was home free.

He left the headquarters skipping more than walking and immediately started making the necessary arrangements.

Claude held another meeting to discuss their next moves. They originally had 22 lines in garrisons across the region. But eight had been moved to Freia.

Myjack was put in charge of this mission. He was to source the men he needed from various departments and reorganise the garrisons into 3500-man lines and bring them into line with the new doctrines. The reduction in size by 2000 men would cut each line's operating costs in half.

It would be a little less because they had to bring the number of lines back up to 20, but it was a good start. They would not touch the lines on the mainland. A reorganisation on this scale was difficult enough without having to deal with a time lag of months between message and reply.

Luckily many of the lines had fallen short on manpower as people retired and headquarters had not bothered to fill the positions, so there weren't 2000 men to discharge in every unit. Claude decided to move the surplus to Lanu. They'd be forged into six temporary folks, and the leftovers would be merged into Monolith's 3rd Folk. The temporary folks would be sent off to the secret path to guard it.

The headquarters was really teeming like a kicked anthill for the next two months. They were still short on men even after using up all their garrisoneers, and so recruited from their Shiksan captives.

Anderclost joined forces with several councillors and two-dozen merchants to create his new smuggling ring. They overpaid 60 thousand labourers to work on the worst parts of the path. Their convoy itself would be ten thousand strong.

The 300-odd baseline officers who were picked had also left with the workhorse convoy for the colony to meet up with Borkal for the formation of the pamigar liberation forces. It was said that over 20 thousand pamigar youths had been recruited and were given training. However, they were still unarmed and awaiting the weapons and ammunition shipment from the region.

Meanwhile, Weyblon developed a new musket in the factory that was about as capable as the Aubass Mark 3. An improvement made to the design was breechloading. It also used a composite paper-brass cartridge. The paper part could be set alight directly by the slow match to trigger the shot, saving them much time from having to prime the flash pan and greatly simplifying the reloading process.

The only shame was that it had been developed at the wrong time. With the invention of the new rifles, these new muskets were inferior and uninteresting. Weyblon said that the gunsmiths had been influenced by the new rifles in their new musket design. Since they were on par with the Aubass Mark 3, Claude decided that both the voluntary Shiksan folk and the pamigars would use this new musket. It was named the Weyblon Type-02 Matchlock.

Claude was very busy for the next two months. He'd finally gotten rid of his family-shaped headache just a couple days before he heard from Svenson and his headache was back again, stronger than ever. Svenson had sent word. They'd only barely set foot off the boat in Whitestag when Claude's wife and mother sued the queen.

House Ferd had two assets in Whitestag: the red-bricked mansion, and the 823 acres of woodland Angelina had bought decades earlier. Claude had seen the mansion's destruction when he'd last passed through the town. He'd not bothered with it, however. It was no longer their home, nor was it valuable enough to be worth his time. The mansion's ruin had been one reason he'd not wanted the two women to go back to Whitestag.

Claude didn't care much about the woodland, either. It was worthless compared to his assets in the region. His wife and mother had now sued the queen over that land, however, because she'd absorbed the land into Normanley Wood in the family's absence.

The royal couple had lived in the wood's mansion during the war with the Union. The queen had taken the chance to declare the Ferd woodlands part of her family estate.

The records and deeds of the town had been destroyed along with the town hall during the war, so there had been no record to stand in her way, and the officials at the time were all too happy to comply to curry favour with her, so they quickly drafted up the documents and deeds declaring the land the queen's.

Most people would have just accepted the loss and only asked for some compensation from the local government, but the two Ferd women were too proud, arrogant, and stubborn to let dying dogs lie. They took out the family copies of the deeds and demanded the land be returned to them. Unfortunately, their demands fell on deaf ears. A count's family they might be, but nobody was going to side with them against the queen.

That said, nobody was willing to openly side against the Ferd women, either. Lord Militant Claude was a national legend, and few people with a functioning brain and ears underestimated his immense power and influence in the kingdom. Those with contacts in government, or in government themselves, knew all too well how close he'd come to wiping the Stellin dynasty from the history books. He was not a man to antagonise. If not for how far away he was from the kingdom, he would be an even greater threat than the king.

While the legitimacy of the Ferd deeds could not be questioned, there were very good excuses for how this situation had come to be, namely the destruction of the town's copy of the records. Nobody knew the land was owned by the Ferds when the deeds were drafted for the queen.

This left them at an impasse. Both sets of deeds were completely legal and valid. What could they do? Normally the government would summon the two landowners to negotiate a solution and rewrite the deeds, but who dared summon the queen?

Some suggested they give the Ferds different land of equivalent size, but Claude's mother was nothing if not damned stubborn, especially not where the family's pride was concerned. She would give way for no one, not even for the queen. She would have the family's rightful land and not a pebble from elsewhere.

There was no civil solution to be found, so the two Ferd women took the queen to constabulary court.

The constabulary court was set up by Prime Minister Blancarte to enforce land ownership laws and judge local officials for their crimes so the people had an outlet to make their complaints heard.

It just so happened that the court of the three southwestern prefectures was in Whitestag, so Kefnie and her mother-in-law went there to complain. The town's officials were relieved to have the problem passed off to some other poor sod.

The judges were also taken aback when they learnt the queen and Lord Militant were involved. They regretted having moved back to Whitestag. But since the case had been submitted, they had to hear it. They decided to submit the case to the royal court, however, which meant the royal couple would hear the case.

A messenger arrived from the capital a fortnight later. He was an old acquaintance of Claude, Viscount Donbajlo Ey Davlid. He brought the two women many gifts from the royal couple and a personal letter from the king.

Fredrey I wrote that it was due to the queen's ignorance of the borders of Normanley Wood that they were caused so much trouble. For that, he was very sorry. He had sent Viscount Davlid to handle the mediation. They would hand back the woodland per Madam Ferd's wishes and redraft the official deeds.

However, the king also had another suggestion. He believed that the illustrious House Ferd shouldn't remain in a small city in the three southwestern prefectures. While their ancestor Habis had been a farmer, he had fought bravely for Stellin IX in the Reformation War and earned House Ferd's first property.

Then came Morssen who worked as an admirable official for Stellin X for decades and made many contributions, chiefly among them being the investment he embarked on to discover a new trade route to Nubissia. That alone should have qualified him to be created a noble of the kingdom. It was too bad that the officials of the time were envious of his deeds and used luring the pirates in as an excuse to punish him, causing him to sacrifice himself for his family in the end.

He said he had always been impressed by Morssen's unrewarded deeds. It was a shame he was too young and lacked influence when Morssen's case had come up in court. He'd been unable to speak up on his behalf.

But now he was king, and Lord Militant Claude, one of House Ferd's third generation, was a pillar supporting the kingdom. Given his elimination of the Union's forces and extermination of enemy nations, he ought to make it up to House Ferd for their contributions.

So, he decided he would hire the best workers to rebuild a grand mansion on the ruins of the red-bricked mansion, paid in full by the royal family. At the same time, they would erect a bronze statue at Morssen's grave to immortalise his deeds.

Not to mention, he was willing to trade around 500 acres of the royal family's land in exchange for House Ferd's woodland in Whitestag as well as award them a mansion in the royal capital as reward for Morssen's contributions. They would also posthumously create Morssen to be an honorary viscount of the kingdom.

Should Madam Ferd be willing, Viscount Daklid could bring the two of them to the royal capital to handle all those procedures.

Svenson wrote that Madam Ferd cried as she read the letter, fully grateful for the king's appreciation of their household. She was willing to follow the king's plans for them. During the time of writing of Svenson's letter, the two women were already packing up and preparing to head to the royal capital.

Claude didn't know how to react. He admitted he was the greatest thorn in the region. If the king and court nobles wanted to deal with it, they had to get rid of Claude first. The question was whether his mother was worth the same attention. They even went out of their way to bring his dead father back on the table by building him a statue, posthumously making him a noble and giving them a mansion in the capital.

Had they known the current state of affairs between him and his mother, they wouldn't have done any of that. He decided to ignore everything and just see how things would unfold. He was quite relieved, however, since his family would be safe in the capital. After all, he was the big boss of the region the kingdom couldn't afford to offend.

Chapter 544 - Pamigar Revolt

"Has Anderclost's workhorse convoy returned?" Claude asked.

"No," Masonhughes answered, "After they sent the supplies to Colonel Borkal in Moloshik's colony, they rested for a day then continued with another batch of smuggled goods.

"Councillor Anderclost and the rest built a large camp at the border of Lomonkdor Mountains. They would first ship their goods from Moknad to the camp before using the workhorse convoy to bring them into the western colonies.

"Additionally, the smuggling association made a large order for light rails to be laid on the secret path. I believe they're going to build railroads, so I looked into it and learnt they were going to use them for horse-pulled rail carts. That could save their time and horses needed by half.

"Additionally, the smuggling association plans to build three warehouses along the secret path to store goods to be smuggled to decrease shipment times. However, the road builders they hired got into a couple fights with nikancha in the area over trivial matters. Fortunately, they were mere brawls that didn't involve any weapons."

Claude was quite satisfied with his adjutant's succinct explanation of the smuggling association's plans.

"Write to the council member and tell him that 'smuggling association' has too many negative connotations. Let's call it the Free Trade and Transport Association from now on."

"Understood." Masonhughes quickly noted down the request.

"How much longer will it take for General Myjack to return?"

The lieutenant-colonel picked up a folder and scanned it.

"It might take more than ten days. The eagle message from the day before yesterday stated that General Myjack has finished reorganising the local garrison line in Vebator. His last destination will be Loki Mountains. After the two lines there are reorganised, he will return to Lanu."

Claude nodded as he took out a cigar from the box, lit it, and took a puff. "Are there any other urgent matters that need to be dealt with?"

"Yes. You haven't replied to General Drivick's request. It's been three days since it's made," he reminded.

Drivick made a recruitment drive to get the freed Shiksan captives to join the voluntary folk in the fight for the pamigar. He didn't think some 60 thousand people applied at once, far more than a folk could contain. The Shiksans that weren't picked were quite dissatisfied and kept on yammering outside the camp. Drivick had no choice but to notify Claude about it and ask for instructions on handling the matter.

Gritting his teeth, Claude said, "Whatever. Let's form another Shiksan folk. We'll let Major-General Sibylos Tar Borliot be the new folksman. I've been thinking... If the pamigar are really able to found their own nation in Moloshik's colony, Moloshik might send their army to Nubissia. That's when the second Shiksan voluntary folk can be put to use."

The two Shiksan voluntary folks would be funded by the region in advance and paid back by the pamigar anyways after the founding of their nation, either with money or goods. So, Claude didn't really mind forming another folk. He couldn't let the strong wills of those volunteers go to waste, after all. No matter their personal motives, their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the region's interests was not something to be let go of that easily.

Nobody knew what kinds of problems the pamigar forces would run into, nor whether Moloshik would retaliate. Perhaps the two neighbouring colonies from other nations would step in to interfere after the founding of the pamigar nation. It would be better to be prepared for that eventuality than not, and one more folk represented more capability to retaliate. Should they not have enough troops when the time came, they would collapse faster than anyone could react. The region itself couldn't send its troops in, after all.

Masonhughes finished making a note of it. "Master Liboyd and General Moriad sent a message that the refurbishment of the first batch of ironclad ships to be handed to the kingdom is complete. Please take some time out of your schedule to inspect them."

Claude nodded. "Tomorrow, no, let's do it the day after. I'll need to head to Port Patres on that day anyway and stay there for two days."

Masonhughes nodded as he marked Claude's new plans down. "Mister Weyblon reported that the first batch of new muskets, their ammunition, and old Shiksan-type mortars have been delivered to the camp. The first Shiksan voluntary folk can begin live-fire training immediately."

"Let General Drivick analyse the strengths and weaknesses of these new muskets. If they work well, we'll mass-produce the Weyblon Type-02. Also, send Borkal some of them for the pamigar to try out. We'll have them test the weapons as well."

"Understood, Lord Militant."

"Any news from the mainland?" Claude asked.

"It's the same from four days ago. The bandits of Mambamark often raid the border of the Nasrian region. Small scale skirmishes break out often and the kingdom has sent ambassadors to Mambamark for a strong request for the raids to be dealt with. The three main corps of the kingdom are adopting Sonia 591s and General Eiblont wiped out another nomadic tribe on the Great Plains of Canas. The expansion and development of Northbay is also underway."

Claude sighed. He had heard about all of those before.

Masonhughes closed up the notebook, bowed, and made to leave. He stopped before he left the office.

"Lord Militant, I want to join the forces..."

"Huh?--" Claude looked up at him. "--Which unit do you want to serve in?"

"General Drivick said that, with your permission, I am to take up the post of linesman under him."

"That bastard... He's poaching all my talent away..." Claude cursed. He looked back at Masonhughes. "Alright, I'll allow it. But you'll have to get me a new adjutant in three days, or forget about becoming linesman."

"Understood!--" Masonhughes bowed elatedly. "--I'll look for one that will satisfy you."

"Hey, deal with what I already asked you to do first!" Claude yelled as he shook his head with a smile.

That fellow had been by his side for years. It was about time he was given his freedom to go about on his own. Come to think of it, Claude had only had two adjutants thus far in his life: Myjack and Masonhughes. Parting with them was never easy.

On the 14th of the 10th month, Year 602, the pamigar revolt broke out in the colony of Moloshik. It was said that it all started due to the administration of the city of Jubilis starting to collect high taxes for the textiles made by the pamigars themselves.

The mainland of Moloshik was famous for its linen cloth, most of which were shipped and sold to their colony on Nubissia for a high price. Since the pamigars weren't willing to take part in the sham, they decided to make their own rough linen cloth. That caused the Moloshikian textile merchants to work with the colonial officials to erect many bans of planting rough hemp in many towns and cities to limit the production of local linen so that those from the kingdom could sell.

However, the merchants and officials were a little too simple minded. Since the bans only affected the cities and towns, that didn't stop the pamigars from planting hemp in the wilderness. It wasn't a hard operation to move anyway, considering how low the standards required of rough linen were. The pamigar often brought hemp seeds to the wilderness to scatter. In half a year, the plants grew and flourished, ready to be harvested and made into cloth.

Angered and annoyed, the merchants and officials made another ban. Any household discovered to have weaving machines had to pay a high linen tax. In other words, anyone with weaving machines was automatically assumed to be in the rough-linen trade and harming the profits of the kingdom and the colonial government. Either they paid those taxes or they got rid of the weaving machines in their homes.

Each weaving machine was as important to the pamigar women as dowry. With them, they could be self-sufficient. They could simply be using them to make rough linen for their own use instead of making them for sale. Some of them with dextrous hands could even use them to make cloth comparable to the likes of fine linen.

Had the linen sold by the kingdom been cheap, they might've reaped quite a lot of profit. It was too bad the textile merchants were far too greedy and intended to scrape all the wealth from the pamigars' hands with their product, having set the price of their linen to cost five times more than they did on the mainland. As a result, none of the pamigars were willing to buy them.

Initially, they could justify the poor sales thanks to the cloth produced by the Aueran Autonomous Region being smuggled into their colonies. But since the embargo was enacted, no cloth from the region made it through, yet, the Moloshikian textiles still sold poorly. To force the pamigar to buy them, the merchants and officials came up with the tax, thinking that they would have no choice but to buy them if they no longer had weaving machines. Otherwise, they'd have to go about naked outside.

When the revolt started, the pamigar used rocks, daggers, spears and self-made bows. They were easily repelled by the musket-wielding garrison forces of the colonies. Corpses of the pamigars littered the streets. The settlers and colonial troops thought it was just another run-of-the-mill revolt that would cool down in another three days.

Little did they know it would last half a month long. By the end of it, the pamigars were using a new kind of musket. They also seemed to be given strict training. The tribe of colonial troops and clan of garrison troops in Jubilis suffered heavy casualties before losing the city.

The loss of Jubilis came as a great shock to the local government. It was only then when they found out that the one that organised the revolt was the mix-blood baron they so often made fun of, Tazinger Nora Taganem. He announced the formation of the Pamigar Liberation Front to fight for the social and economic freedoms of his people, causing countless pamigars to flock to Jubilis.

Claude was quite frustrated as the revolt was actually an accident. It was not part of the plan, as the Shiksan voluntary folk was still being trained in Lanu. They hadn't set out for Moloshik's colony yet.

"They're almost two and a half months ahead of schedule. Most of the pamigar youths that took part in the revolt haven't received more than three months of training. Those darned nikanchas are really nothing but nikanchas. The inability to keep to strict discipline is deep in their blood! It's not something that can be changed just by calling themselves a new name!" Head of Strategy, Major-General Natass Bar Lawakoss, cursed. He hated people who couldn't stick to the plan.

"Colonel Borkal's eagle message said the reason for the early revolt is the huge number of pamigar deaths in Jubilis, many of whom were the family members of the pamigar youths that were being trained. After finding out about that nightmarish massacre, they couldn't hold their hatred in and secretly left with their weapons to join the riot.

"The rest didn't have a choice and moved forward with the revolt. Fortunately, Moloshik's colonial and garrison forces are weak and small in number, so they weren't the trained pamigars' match. By the time the members of the Pamigar Liberation Front entered Jubilis, Tazinger Nora Taganem had to make his stand or risk losing his right to be called leader of the revolt," Myjack explained as he read the letter. It happened all too quickly, so even Borkal had to go along with the flow. He had no way of stopping the pamigar youths from avenging their family.

"Lord Militant, what should we do next? Should we stop the training of the first voluntary Shiksan folk and send them to reinforce the pamigars immediately?" Fodres, the head of intelligence, asked.

Claude waved. He turned to Myjack and asked, "Did Colonel Borkal request us to send reinforcements immediately?"

"No. He only explained the reason the revolt started without saying anything else."

Claude chuckled. "Then, we'll let the pamigar do their thing. General Natass is right. Just because they call themselves pamigars doesn't mean they don't still have the bad habits of the nikancha. I believe Colonel Borkal and the officers we send there won't have an easy time. The pamigars will easily get ahead of themselves with their easy conquest of Jubilis.

"I heard that none of the pamigar revolts over the past two centuries worked, and that they've never taken one city before. This victory will definitely inflate their confidence. They'll plan to take most of the colony next and take control of many more towns and cities.

"They don't lack the manpower. Didn't Colonel Borkal say that countless pamigars went to join Tazinger? With the 20 thousand incompletely trained men armed with muskets, the forces of Moloshik won't be their match."

"Then isn't our plan and all the funds we invested in it wasted?" Head of Finances Seinarnoff Wai Bakum asked anxiously. If the pamigars founded an independent nation that soon, the two voluntary folks the region formed would have to be paid for by themselves.

Fodres, however, laughed. "Don't worry. Lord Militant Claude means that the pamigar can sweep across most of the colony, but not hold it themselves. By the time Moloshik reacts and sends a corps to stamp out revolts, the pamigar will suffer. We'll just be patient and wait for them to come to us for help. By then, they'll be willing to pay an even bigger price for our help."

Natass nodded. "General Fodres is right. It won't be too late for us to act then. I'm only worried that the Lesnian and Wasiliskian colonies next to Moloshik's will interfere in the revolt.

"If they send troops to help suppress the pamigar, I suspect they won't be able to hold on for our reinforcements."

Claude shook his head. "It's not something that can happen. Moloshik and Wasilisk are enemies in the first place. They've gone to war a few times on Freia and Nubissia. If Wasilisk didn't have the support of Opsaro City-state Federation, they would've been wiped out by Moloshik long ago.

"As for the Lesnian colony, Moloshik is even warier of them. A few conflicts have broken up at their borders and they aren't on good terms. The other two colonies will be more than happy to see chaos break out in the Moloshikian colony. They can't wait to see the pamigar nation get founded.

"Only after that can they send troops to take the colony back from the pamigar nation and get to keep the land. They definitely won't send reinforcements in the initial stages of the revolt. They might even privately provide support."

Chapter 545 - Battle Report

On the 3rd of the 2nd month, Year 603, a meeting was held in force headquarters within Lanu.

"As Lord Militant Claude had predicted, the pamigar launched a huge wave of attacks in Moloshik's colony and occupied most of it. The various towns deeper inland have fallen to the Pamigar Liberation Front. What remains of Moloshik's colonial forces have congregated around the four main port cities in anticipation for reinforcements from their kingdom.

"According to Colonel Borkal, the pamigar are rallying their forces to form a huge army of around 200 thousand men to take the four port cities in one swoop, chasing the Moloshikians away from Nubissia for good. They even declared they would take the four main port cities before the rainy season. After the season, they'll be able to found their independent pamigar nation."

Fodres just gave a briefing on the latest updates of the armed conflict started by the pamigar, as well as the new requests they have for the region. The newly elected pamigar president, Tazinger, hoped that the region could continue to provide up to 100 thousand new muskets and accompanying ammunition within the short term to prevent any delays to their revolt.

"How many weapons have we already provided them with?" Claude asked.

"Lord Militant, so far, we gave them 146800 new muskets and accompanying ammunition in four separate batches. They're worth near a million crowns in total," Fodres replied.

"Have Colonel Borkal and the other officers sent there to train them been ignored? Are they only asking us for supplies now?"

Fodres laughed awkwardly and said, "That is not the case. While President Taganem is no longer as amicable to them, he still treasures a friendly relationship with the region. Colonel Borkal and the others are given good treatment and aren't ignored or ostracised. Even though they didn't take part in the pamigar's attacks, they are still helping with the training of a new folk being formed in the rear.

"This new folk is formed from the most loyal men President Taganem picked. They are the presidential guard and reserve forces for the Pamigar Liberation Front. So, they will not be used in the attack on the four main ports. He requested that we train the presidential guard for a full half a year."

"Looks like this Tazinger Nora Taganem didn't let the victories he's had so far get to his head. I believe we picked the right person this time. For him to be able to form a force loyal to him in a time like this means that he won't be as short lived as a shooting star. Agree to his request and send him a new batch of weapons." Claude gave it more thought and said, "By the way, General Fodres, did the colonial forces of Lesnia and Wasilisk's colony respond in any way?"

Respectfully, Fodres said, "Lord Militant, it's like what you predicted the last time. Those two colonies only gathered a force to reinforce the borders to prevent the pamigar's entry. They also sent out ambassadors to make contact with the local Moloshikian officials and the pamigars in hopes that the two sides can resolve their conflict through dialogue.

"Interestingly, the ambassador sent to establish contact with the Moloshikian officials in Port Felimz mocked the incompetence of the Moloshikian colonial forces after their initial greeting, and offered to send their own colonial forces to stop the revolt if the Moloshikians were willing to pay. As expected, the Moloshikian officials refused that offer.

"The ambassadors sent to the Pamiger Liberation Front to meet President Taganem, on the other hand, maintained a strictly neutral position. Their stance is that the expansion of war would cause endless tragedy for the civilians, and they hoped for it to end soon. They also said they'd be willing to start talks between the Front and the Moloshikian officials to reach a peace settlement.

"President Taganem also immediately refused all talks, saying that the pamigar intend to found their own independent nation to rule over themselves. Having been refused, the ambassadors changed their tune to say they'd be willing to supply some arms to the Pamigar Liberation Front, since the weapons used by the 50 thousand troops of the pamigar were old-style muskets."

Claude chuckled. "The two colonies are trying to look like bystanders when they're actually waiting for their chance to profit off this when the dust settles. They can't wait for Moloshik's colony and the pamigar to wipe each other out. The more serious the casualties, the more elated they will be. No matter which side wins, the victor will still have to negotiate with them and might have to endure being taken advantage of."

General Natass, the master of strategy, asked, "Lord Militant, are you suggesting that those two colonies will join the war no matter which side wins in the end?"

"No, they won't join the existing war. They'll start a whole new one," Claude answered with a nod, "The colonies of the eight Southern Freian nations have a very fine balance, being more or less as strong as one another. In the past six centuries, there used to be some 200 city-state federations in Southern Freia. After some three centuries of chaos, they eventually settled into the seven coastal nations. The last one, the United Kingdom of Fochs, is an island nation as opposed to a coastal one.

"As the might of those eight nations are about the same, none of them are able to dominate another. Sometimes, two to three nations would work together to attack one nation, but just as the target is about to be eliminated, the other bystander nations will interfere. No matter how the fights end up, no side ends up better off. Such a state has persisted until now. While there have been squabbles over the past two to three centuries, these eight nations will band together in an alliance against an outside force. All internal conflict will magically disappear.

"As such, expansion is not an option for these eight nations, so they turned heavily to developing maritime trade and were among the first to start colonising Nubissia. If you look at the history of the western colonies, you'll find that those eight nations aren't the first to reach the western coast. Instead, a Northern Freian nation, the Duchy of Leotoma was the first to reach there.

"The eight nations only came later. After they formed a colony, they worked together to expand, eventually swallowing up the whole western coast. They had pretty good luck over the past two centuries, much of it thanks to Shiks' invasion and extermination of Leotoma. After that, Lesnia and Carmenleon declared war to divide their territory in the colonies.

"Nowadays, all of the western coast is occupied by those eight nations. There have been many conflicts at the borders in the past century, but they develop like they do on the mainland. No side ever has enough of an advantage over another. But now, the pamigars launched a war in Moloshik's colony and swept most of it out. To the two neighbouring colonies, it's a good chance to expand their influence.

"Moloshik only has two standing corps in their mainland. While their colonial forces also amount to a corps, they are spread out to defend the various towns. In Southern Freia, Moloshik and Wasilisk are neighbours and they've fought a few wars. Wasilisk is usually the invaded one. The two nations can be said to be nemeses. While Lesnia isn't that close to Moloshik on the mainland, they did have a few conflicts with them in the colonies.

"That's why the pamigar revolt is great news to Lesnia and Wasilisk's colonies. They are willing to provide support to the Pamigar Liberation Front in hopes that Moloshik's military might can be worn down. Currently, however, they are still on friendly terms with each other, united on carrying out the embargo against us. So, they won't go to war with each other directly.

"The colonial forces in Moloshik's colony are helpless to do anything and just barely keeping their four port cities defended. If the kingdom really wants to stop this revolt, their only options are to either send troops from Freia there or to request the two neighbouring colonies to help quell the revolt for them.

"For the former option, they would have to count on their colonial forces being able to hold out against the pamigar. Even so, there are only two standing corps in the Moloshikian mainland, and they would need at least one corps to quell the revolt. That would require Moloshik to divert resources from its transport fleet and navy to ship the troops to the western coast, which in turn requires a substantial amount of time. They would also need to make sure at least one of the port cities is defended for their docking.

"As for asking the neighbouring colonies for help, while that's a much faster and more convenient approach, it comes with rather heavy costs. The colonial forces from the other two nations might occupy their territory and refuse to leave, causing problems down the line. That's why they won't request their aid unless absolutely necessary.

"While the pamigar occupy a really huge territory right now, their situation is still far from certain, at least as far as Wasilisk and Lesnia's colonies are concerned. They need to see which move Moloshik would take first before deciding on their own. For instance, if Moloshik sends their troops from the mainland, those other two nations would support the pamigar to make sure both sides end up ruined from the fighting.

"If Moloshik's forces from the mainland suffer badly from the revolt, Lesnia and Wasilisk wouldn't give up on that chance and send their troops into Moloshik's colony. They could well use attacking the pamigar as their excuse. With Moloshik's forces wounded and recovering, they wouldn't be able to afford angering the two other nations and would have to cede part of their colony away.

"The ideal outcome for the colonies of Wasilisk and Lesnia would be if the pamigar defeats the mainland Moloshikian forces and chase them out of the western coast, before founding their own nation. That way, the other two colonies have all the reason to conquer and swallow Moloshik's colony without worrying about Moloshik's response, as they would have lost their claim to the territory."

Claude's analysis made it clear to the high-ranking officers that while the pamigar seemed like they were doing really well, there were at least three obstacles that they still had to overcome. The first was to defeat Moloshik's mainland forces, the second was to reclaim the whole colony, the four port cities included, and the third was to face war from the other two colonies after the founding of their nation.

Only when all three conditions were cleared could the pamigar truly be considered liberated and independent. They would then become the shining beacon for the other indigenous races at the western coast, kickstarting the spring of revolts and fights for independence.

Natass turned to Fodres and asked, "What about the reactions of the other western colonies? I recall that Lesnia has two colonies at the western coast. The one that neighbours Moloshik's is near to the Fochsian colony of Lodex Bay, which happens to be not too far from Loki Mountains."

Fodres said, "Lesnia's other colony is rather far from here. The moment word of the pamigar revolt spread, they transferred two garrison lines from their other colony to the border for increased security.

"The other colonies are watching from the sidelines. Some are publishing the narrative that the pamigar revolt stemmed from cruel treatment by the colonisers. Some other publications published the opinion that the revolting pamigars had to be punished to stifle all hope for independence, lest they caused the other races in the other colonies to revolt."

Natass said, "I'm quite worried that the pamigar nation would come under attack from all western colonies the moment they are formed. If they end up exterminated, Operation Wildfire will have failed and our investment would've gone to waste."

"It is indeed something we have to pay attention to," Claude agreed, "The original plan was for our informants to reach the other indigenous races in other colonies by the time the pamigar revolt started so that all the colonies are taken off guard at the same time.

"But now that the pamigar revolt started two months earlier, the other colonies have raised their guard. Our informants of various races are no longer able to freely cross into other colonies, so not all our plans can be carried out. It is a rather huge mistake. Our region can only do our best to support the founding of the pamigar nation now. At worst, we'll join this war ourselves."

Claude had already made up his mind. If the pamigar nation really came under a coordinated attack from the other colonies, the region would send their troops in. Since they already had the Shiksan folks, it wouldn't be surprising for them to form more voluntary folks. There were all too many reasons for them to join the war. They could, for example, run with the narrative of their support of liberating the natives, all the while taking up the mantle of an ally of justice.

On the 11th of the 2nd month, Year 603, around 200 thousand members of the Pamigar Liberation Front launched heavy attacks on the four coastal port cities of the colony. The four cities shook, but still remained in the hands of the colonial forces.

Before the first heavy rain of the rainy season in the 3rd month, the pamigar had suffered up to 80 thousand casualties. President Taganem had no choice but to give the order to retreat 50 kilometres back for the construction of a defence line along Milankorda River.

On the 28th of the 3rd month, the two corps from Moloshik docked at Port Felimz. After half a month of rest, they launched their counterattack. Splitting into two, they attacked the pamigar's defence line. Following a heated battle that lasted a day and night, the line crumbled and the pamigar troops fell. Around 40 thousand of them were captured and massacred at Milankorda River.

Chapter 546 - Looming Threat

On the 7th of the 4th month, Year 603, right after the Moloshikian corps' great triumph at Milankorda River, during which up to 80 thousand pamigars were wiped out. The kingdom's forces intended to put a stop to the revolt in one go. However, their forces were suddenly attacked by unknown forces from their left flank. After a heated battle, they crumbled completely with less than a thousand managing to escape alive.

The two corps Moloshik sent to the colony weren't both standing corps. Instead, they were a combination of one standing corps and one corps of reserves. To ensure a certain level of combat capability, the commanders intentionally split both corps into two corps respectively, pairing one folk with another and moving two separate ways towards Milankorda River for their victorious attack.

While the forces of Moloshik did succeed, they suffered substantial casualties. The two standing folks at the vanguard lost about half their numbers and needed some time for reorganisation and recovery. However, their command didn't really mind, as the casualties of the pamigars were much higher at around 80 thousand. The remaining 60 thousand were terrified and scattered all over the place. All that remained would be the reclamation of the lost towns and cities.

Following their victory, Moloshik's war command considered how they would deal with Lesnia and Wasilisk in the meantime. Some reports said that the two colonies already formed one folk of troops at the border each. It was highly possible they would occupy the towns the pamigar took near the border once the situation was set. By then, the forces of the three nations would be entangled in a huge mess.

Just as they decided to rest a few days before going two separate ways to reclaim the settlements so that the other two colonies wouldn't have a chance to take advantage of them, they suddenly received word of their left flank being attacked. The enemy also split into two and clamped in the middle of the left-flank corps. The left-flank corps was formed from a folk of standing troops and a folk of reserves that were split in the middle. That was where the enemy had targeted.

The reserves at the rear were the first to crumble, being completely unable to respond to the sudden assault. The stronger standing forces still managed to use their camps to put up some measure of resistance, but it only bought them half a day's time. War command sent the right-flank corps in immediately to reinforce them, but they ended up ambushed by a pamigar folk. Word from the frontlines was that those pamigars were elite fighters not inferior to their standing forces one bit.

Once the left-flank folk was eliminated and the escape soldiers came back with no idea who attacked them, Moloshik's war command was completely confused. Who was the mastermind behind that? Could it be Lesnia or Wasilisk? Were they trying to start a war with Moloshik?

Even so, war command's priority was to rescue the right-flank folk. After the folk was stopped by the ambush, the unknown forces that wiped the left-flank folk out split into two to come for the right-flank folk. The Moloshikians were surrounded in their camp by three separate groups, already on the brink of a wipeout.

Ambassadors of Moloshik were sent to the two neighbouring colonies to criticise them for their shallow plot to help the pamigars attack the troops of allies. However, they found that the local officials of those colonies were just as confused as they were. They insisted they didn't know from whence those unknown forces came, but said they could get news from the pamigar. Soon, they found that the white-man forces were actually Shiksan captives.

And so, Moloshik sent ambassadors to the autonomous region immediately to state their strong objections with the council administration and military administration. In their meeting, Lord Militant Claude said that the autonomous region was a supporter of peace, independence and self-defence. Even when the western colonies raised an embargo against them, the region didn't use military force as a response. Instead, they even downsized the forces in the region.

He also said there was nothing he could do about the former Shiksan captives, who had served their terms and were free men. With how Shiks still hadn't signed a peace treaty with Aueras, the 500 thousand plus Shiksans had no way of returning to their kingdom and were free to roam about. The chaos they caused even resulted in many security issues the region had to deal with.

The region had only heard about the pamigars seeking help from the voluntary folks of the Shiksans and had no way of stopping them. After all, there was no law or regulation stopping those Shiksans from forming what were essentially mercenary bands to fight on the pamigar's behalf. It was their freedom to do so.

As for the region providing muskets and other supplies to the pamigar, it aligned with the region's values on free trade. As long as the region's safety wasn't threatened, anybody with money could engage in trade with them. If Moloshik wanted to buy the arms produced by the region, they were even willing to offer them a good deal for quality goods.

The ambassadors left dissatisfied by that response. On the day they boarded the ship, the region's newspapers published word of the elimination of the right-flank Moloshikian corps. The region's officials expressed their sympathies as they sent off the ambassadors and asked them to not return, as they would merely be taken captive by the pamigars should they do so. Despite that, the Moloshikian ambassadors sailed off in their colonial light-class sail warship.

On the 23rd of the 5th month, the Moloshikian right-flank corps that had been held up for most of the month ran out of food, having been surrounded by two voluntary Shiksan folks and the pamigar forces. After obtaining assurance for their safety, the remaining 30 thousand Moloshikians surrendered.

Just like that, the two Moloshikian corps numbering around 100 thousand men were wiped out. Only the high-ranking commanders at the rear remained. When word got out, the local Moloshikian population and officials broke down into chaos. They all fled for the port cities with their families and belongings in hopes of being able to get a ferry ticket back to the mainland.

The stage in the Moloshikian colony was set. President Taganem announced that their liberation had been helped by the allies of justice and freedom of the world. The two Shiksan folks were a huge help in their liberation and he expressed his eternal gratitude to them on behalf of all pamigars.

The pamigars would always remember the brave warriors that fought for their freedom from the oppression of their conquerors. President Taganem hoped that the pamigars would unite as one so that they would no longer fall to outside forces. They would chase the Moloshikians out of Nubissia for good to further contribute to the founding of their nation.

Claude entered the meeting room. The high-ranking officers all saluted him. Claude returned the salute and waved for them to be seated.

Fodres was the first one to speak. He briefed them on the situation in Moloshik. "Only two port cities, Port Felimz and Port Saint Niklas, are still in the hands of Moloshik, defended by fewer than three thousand. There are more than 100 thousand Moloshikian settlers in those two cities. Now, the price of a ferry ticket back to the mainland is tenfold its normal price due to insatiable demand.

"If the Pamigar Liberation Front launches an immediate attack, they'll only need three to four days to reclaim those two cities. However, Colonel Borkal suggested a slow attack to buy enough time to prepare a defence against a surprise attack by the forces of Lesnia and Wasilisk at the border. While the two colonies appear neutral, they're still rallying their forces nonstop."

"How many forces did the colonies of Lesnia and Wasilisk gather?" Natass asked.

Fodres replied, "Initially, the two colonies only had a folk each at the borders. But when they found that the Shiksan voluntary folks were fighting with the pamigar, Lesnia started transferring their troops there nonstop. Now, they have a full corps at the border.

"Wasilisk's forces still amount to a folk, but they've begun to form a reserve corps by recruiting settlers and giving them quick training. Their folk is also forming a defence line along their border. They seem like they aren't intent on joining the war. Instead, they only want to defend their own colony."

Natass broke out in laughter. "Perhaps those two Shiksan folks' demolishment of the two corps of Moloshikian troops frightened Lesnia and Wasilisk's colonial officials. They're trying to protect themselves now, so I doubt they'll dare to invade the pamigar nation."

Claude nodded. "It would be ideal if that were the case. We won't have as much trouble either. But whether the two colonies will attack the pamigar nation isn't dependent on the forces they gathered, but whether they're recruiting youths to form new corps.

"If the pamigar found their own nation, Lesnia and Wasilisk definitely won't give that chance up. Moloshik is a lone nation without aid. Of the two corps they sent to Nubissia and the colonial corps, all three of them, up to 200 thousand men, were eliminated. No matter how unhappy they are with the result, there's no way they can make another corps magically appear out of nowhere.

"At least, within eight months to one year, Moloshik will have no control whatsoever in their colony. Forming new corps takes time, after all. Wasilisk and Lesnia definitely won't let up. They can immediately send a corps or two here to join the party of splitting the pamigar nation up.

"So tell Colonel Borkal that he has no need to worry about the two colonies gathering their forces. Before the troops from the mainland arrive, they won't attack the pamigar no matter whether the two remaining port cities fall. Have them prepare to defend themselves after they declare independence."

"Yes, Lord Militant. I will inform President Taganem and Colonel Borkal of your opinion," Fodres said.

Natass came to the map of the western colonies on the wall and said, "According to our original plan, once Lesnia and Wasilisk's forces invade the pamigar nation, we would incite a revolt among the losman peoples in Lesnia's colony and jisdor peoples in Wasilisk's colony to cause their troops at the frontline to crumble.

"Nowadays, the jisdor are really envious of the pamigar's success and are trying to replicate it. However, the losman in Lesnia's colony still waver. It's said that the one we sent to contact their great chieftain didn't respond to us, nor was he willing to help forming an independent nation for his own people. With that, I believe we should pick the losman to go next."

Fodres said, "Great Chieftain Unamas Diya Modrikus is the losman with most high renown in Lesnia's colony. We already did our best to try to convince him to follow the pamigar's path and form an independent losman nation.

"But he refused to agree, thinking that independence would cause the losman to come under the wrath of Lesnia's revenge. He thinks they would suffer even heavier losses that way and cause the other losman folk in the colony to suffer. So, he isn't willing to do as we advise and only wants the losman to continue their herder lifestyle in peace."

"Is there no better candidate?" Claude asked.

"There are a few nephews of Unamas who are chieftains of their own losman tribes that are quite ambitious, but none have the influence and reputation of Unamas. If they turn traitor, Unamas only has to say a word for those helping the traitors to give up on the cause. The Lesnian colony wouldn't have to send in their forces anyway. The great chieftain alone is capable of calming the losman down," Fodres said, troubled.

"Since he isn't willing to cooperate, can't we just deal with this stupid great chieftain?" Natass suggested in anger.

"It's difficult," Fodres said, "It's not that we haven't considered it. We've even tried a few times to make sure he never wakes. However, this great chieftain seems really alert about his own safety. He even has somebody taste his every meal. There are also always proficient witch doctors and strong, fearless guards around him around the clock. There's no way for us to make our move.

"If we risk an assassination and can't kill off all the guards and staff to silence them, it might expose us as the masterminds behind this operation. We'll only earn the hate of the losman. So, we can only patiently wait for our opportunity. It's a shame we haven't gotten any yet. In fact, our incessant encouragement caused them to drift further away from us."

Claude knocked on the desk to stop Fodres from continuing. "Alright, I know that this isn't within your normal duties in the department of intelligence. The great chieftain refusing to cooperate is within my expectations. There are many who are all too eager to stand up for themselves until the time it actually comes to do so. Didn't the losman get ten thousand muskets from us to form a self-defence force? Well, if they don't intend to defend themselves, I'll force them to.

"Our next step is to wait for the colonial forces of Wasilisk and Lesnia to invade the pamigar nation. All we have to do then is to secure the border of Wasilisk's colony and focus our troops to fight the Lesnian colonial troops, before pushing further into the colony. We'll spread word that the troops have been invited by the losman great chieftain to liberate them. That way, this Unamas won't be able to sit back even if he wants to."

After a moment of silence, Natass said, "Lord Militant, even though the pamigar said they would form three corps of 200 thousand men to protect their nation, it would be a miracle if they are able to hold out against the Lesnian colonial forces. The only forces available to send into the Lesnian colony are our two Shiksan voluntary folks. We'll need more men to achieve your goals."

"We'll send the fully formed 3rd Folk of Monolith with four garrison lines there as reinforcements, wearing Shiksan voluntary folk uniforms, of course. We'll call them the Voluntary Shiksan 3rd and 4th Folks. Once Lesnia's colony is occupied, we'll recall them," Claude said, tapping on the map of the western coast where the Fochsian colony of Cape Loducus is. "Our objective is to swallow up Cape Loducus and unite Loki Mountains for good. That way, Ironclad will gain a naval base on the western coast. We'll no longer have to worry about maritime threats from the west any longer.

"Additionally, we'll be able to ship the mining yields from Loki Mountains through the sea once Cape Loducus is ours instead of transporting them through the perilous mountain paths, wasting time, manpower and money. So, send the voluntary Shiksan folks to Cape Loducus immediately after the conquest of Lesnia's colony.

"Once the voluntary folks take Cape Loducus, our region's forces will have an excuse to launch a counterattack to stop a Shiksan invasion of Loki Mountains. We'll swallow up Cape Loducus and Fochs won't be able to do anything about it. If anything, they'll have to knock on the door of the Shiksan volunteers first."

Chapter 547 - General Skri's Secret Message

Claude was certain the only benefit to interfering with the western colonies was getting Fochs' colony, Cape Loducus, without any worry about the future. The colony was connected to the northern and eastern edges of the Loki Mountains -- just right to make the state complete.

Not to mention, Cape Loducus didn't really have any natives. That alone made it attractive. Nubissia's western and southern sides were separated by Cape Moroks, a small peninsula which stretched out into the ocean from Loki Mountains. Cape Loducus was the bay sandwiched between the mountains of Cape Moroks.

Fochs had not invested much in Cape Loducus since it was established. Neither had they sent any nikancha labourers there. They only constructed a city near the bay, Cape Loducus City, whose residents were mostly Fochsian settlers. There was only a tiny minority of nikancha servants.

Claude would much rather kickstart a chain of native independence movements than send in his troops. He didn't want this to come back to bite him at an inconvenient time. The whole western coast had a population of about 60 million, of which only one-tenth was settlers.

The region sat along Nubissia's southwestern coasts, sandwiched between the ocean and the Loki Mountains. Beyond it was Cape Moroks, and then the sea. There was a gap between the mountains and the coast at the one end of the region's territory, one of the few easy entrances to the region from the rest of the continent, and Cape Loducus sat right in the middle of it. Another of the Lesnian colonies sat on the far side of Cape Loducus, slightly smaller than their first.

Moloshik's colony sat on the far side of that. The pamigar occupied most of it nowadays and were about to found their own country. Even further along the coast sat Wasilisk's colony, and yet further again, Opsaro's colony. Another hop, skip, and jump along the coast was another Fochsian colony.

The region could absorb Cape Loducus into Loki Mountains because not that many natives called that area home. It was peaceful and easy to administer and would make it so much more convenient for the transportation of their mining yield if they occupied it. Not to mention, a naval base could be built there to prevent them from having to worry about threats from the western coastal waters.

If the region decided to stretch their hands further out to conquer Lesnia, Moloshik, Wasilisk and Opsaro's colonies, they would have to wrack their heads on how to deal with the native tribes, or rather, so-called races that branched off from the nikancha.

For instance, Lesnia's colony was a half-desert, half-mountain area where more than three million losman lived. Moloshik's colony, on the other hand, had five million pamigars. Wasilisk's colony had two different races, namely, the skro and the jisdor, each having a population of two million.

Claude had used the nikancha nation's founding to remove the nikancha from the colonies. He forcefully relocated over two million nikancha, kicking them out of the kingdom's colonies under the ruse of 'helping them migrate to their homeland'. Thereafter, only Freian settlers, specifically settlers from Aueras, lived in what would become the region. Well, there were a couple thousand stray nikancha, but they were such a minute minority they weren't even worth knowing about.

That was why the region had no desire to conquer the western colonies despite inciting one revolt after another. The region had too much territory and too few people as it was already. It would be at least a century before they had enough people to make further expansion worthwhile.

The goal of Operation Wildfire was to create a friendly backyard for the region where its wares would be sold -- the establishment of a long-term market. As long as the natives could found their own nations, their huge populations represented a great demand for the region's products. It was more than enough to sustain the region's industrial and economic growth for a long time.

"Report!"

"Enter," Claude said.

His newly promoted adjutant, Captain Fachselin, entered. He used to be an executive officer of the department of logistics in charge of general policy. There were many officers like him in logistics. Even he didn't know how he got Masonhughes' attention to warrant him being recommended to become Claude's adjutant. Even so, he appeared to be a decent performer and hard worker across the past half month of his duties.

"Lord Militant. General Skri sent an eagle message with an eagle feather."

Fachselin held out an envelope with a feather stuck to it.

If a letter came with three eagle feathers, it meant it was top secret and urgent and had to be dealt with immediately. If it only came with one, it meant it was classified and the reader of the letter wasn't allowed to publicise the letter's contents after reading it. It was mainly to prevent the gossipy signallers from accidentally leaking crucial information. Letters without feathers attached wouldn't be a problem if they were talked about, but anyone who leaked information about feathered letters would be dealt with by the inquisition.

Skri was busy with the consolidation and development of the noble fiefs in Eastern Freia, specifically, Northbay and the Great Plains of Canas. Since the letter wasn't marked as urgent, it could afford to wait a while, since Claude was busy approximating some supply numbers at the moment.

"Put it on my desk. I'll read it later," he said.

Fachselin placed the envelope carefully on the desk, saluted, before quietly leaving Claude's private office.

Claude put down the documents in his hand after some ten minutes, signed his name and stamped his seal. The document had now been checked by him thoroughly and could then be sent for execution. Naturally, the letters Claude had to personally deal with were only those of critical importance from the military administration. The document he was just going through, for instance, was related to the transfer of Monolith 3rd Folk to the frontlines, specifically, how much manpower, supplies, ammunition and Shiksan voluntary folk uniforms they needed.

While the staff officers had mostly calculated the numbers and amounts of all things required, Claude insisted on giving his own read through to see if anything was missed. As the highest-ranked person in charge of the forces, most of his efforts were focused on logistics and deployment, true to his signature 'war is logistics' saying.

He opened Skri's letter and froze, immediately understanding why the letter was marked with a feather. It didn't have anything to do with Skri's project in the Canasian region. Instead, it was about the fate of the repatriated Shiksan captives.

Back when Claude returned to the region, this was one of the first things he had to deal with. Around 500 thousand Shiksan captives have served a full five to eight years of labour in the region and earned their freedom. However, the ongoing war between Aueras and Shiks caused them to be unable to return to their nation, so they worked in the region to make a living.

Naturally, the region couldn't just let them go, since they were a fighting force that used to be enemies of the region. They could easily be used again in a war against Aueras. Before a peace treaty was signed, the captives couldn't afford to be returned.

Laughably, however, Shiks and Aueras didn't neighbour one another and hadn't fought in a while. Yet, Shiks still stubbornly refused to send an ambassador to sue for peace, and the Aueran victors couldn't take the initiative either. The insult and humiliation the Aueran ambassadors experienced at the hands of Majid III back then was a deterrent enough. Who knew what other insane antics the Shiksan king could still pull? As such, the two nations remained in a constant state of cold war.

Thus, the Shiksan free men were doomed to be unable to return to their homes. The region was initially rather surprised that Shiks didn't make any attempt to ask about those captives at all. After all, they were the forces of Shiks. How could no ambassador be sent to ask about their situation at all?

However, an investigation showed that all those captives belonged to the forces of the Shiksan nobles. They were either the private troops of the nobles, garrison members of their fiefs or youths they forcefully conscripted. As far as Majid III was concerned, as long as those 500 thousand troops were gone, the local nobles would have no way to resist him. He had Shiks in his full control.

The earliest Shiksan captives had been living in the Aueran Autonomous Region for close to ten years. Some of them wanted to settle down there, while others wanted to go back to their families and bring them to the region. Even more wanted to work in the region and wait for the day the two kingdoms ended a war so that they could be reunited with their families.

Claude received word that up to 100 thousand of those captives wrote letters to request being sent back to Shiks to reunite with their families, so he decided to permit two thousand of them to go back. They would first sail to Northbay before taking a ferry to Shiks through ships of their nation.

Claude recalled that each one of them brought with them a large sack of letters with them to Lanu's train station for their travel to Port Cobius. They were entrusted with sending those letters on the behalf of those who remained in the region. The station had been filled to the brim with the other captives that were there to send the two thousand off. Those who would be going back promised they would deliver those letters to their families to let them know they were still alive.

Skri, however, had cruel news to share with Claude. Once those two thousand captives returned to Shiks, they caught the attention of local authorities and soon, Majid III was informed. Soon after, the king announced that the returned captives were all traitors who surrendered and refused to fight out of fear for their deaths, causing Shiks to lose their colonies on Nubissia and making them the laughing stock of other nations.

The king announced he would be hunting down those traitorous captives and instructed the local authorities to hang them to death from trees by the roadside without trial. The families of those traitors would be punished with forced labour and have their personal property confiscated.

Skri said only around two hundred of them managed to escape and return to Northbay, with no more than 20 of them managing to bring their families along, much in thanks to their homes being near the border or them having friends with good connections that got the announcements early and helped their families escape persecution.

The 200 plus lucky escapees were furious and demanded to go back to the region so they could tell their comrades about this. They also hoped that the region could help them form a force to be sent back to Shiks for revenge. That was the reason for the discreet nature of the letter. He didn't know what kind of ripple effect this news would cause among the 500 thousand Shiksan captives.

Claude's first thought was that Majid III had totally gone insane, but upon more introspection, he understood the rationale behind that decision. Those 500 thousand captives were all affiliated with the noble faction, so letting them return to Shiks meant the now-obedient nobles would regain their claws and fangs. It would negatively impact Majid III's complete chokehold on the kingdom's policies.

So, Majid III used the harshest method he knew of to cut off all hope for the captives to return. He wasn't willing to let the nobles forces grow, lest conflict between the royal family and the nobles sparked once more. The 500 thousand captives were not significant in comparison to the Shiksan population of 30 million, after all, so letting them return was the worst move to make. The 500 thousand noble-aligned veterans were better off not returning to the kingdom.

Claude rapped his fingers on the desk in thought. He decided to write to Skri to let the escapees return to the region. Shiks was now a security risk to them and they had to be given a huge blow. That way, they could make use of the Shiksan captives on the battlefield and also increase the region's population by taking them in.

Since Aueras started limiting the number of immigrants to the region, population growth in the region slowed. Currently, there were only seven million people living there. However, the territory controlled by the region was huge. The towns and cities covered no more than a quarter of all that area, and they were in real short supply for immigrants and workers.

Even if Monolith and Thundercrash returned to the region with the wives they found in the fiefs and their wives' family members, the population still wouldn't exceed eight million. The reason for that was the decade of war that raged on and caused a sharp decrease of young males, leaving behind many elderly, women and children. Many of the soldiers' wives were either lone maidens or widows with few family members remaining, mostly elderly and young children.

If the 500 thousand Shiksan captives were allowed to return to Shiks, the region would gain at least three million new immigrants in the form of their emigrated family members. However, that depended on what the region offered them. If the region agreed to send their troops to Shiks, the 500 thousand captives would immediately become their most loyal guides and vanguards as long as they wished to reunite with their families.

So, letting the 200 captives return to the region to tell the rest about their experiences would stoke the captives' rage and desire for revenge. Only then would the region consider the captives as one of their own and arm, train and command them to attack Shiks without worry.

Naturally, Claude still had to deal with the mess that was the western coast. At the very least, he had to complete the first phase of Operation Wildfire, which entailed swallowing Cape Loducus, forcing the losman in Lesnia's colony to revolt against their will, helping the pamigar in Moloshik's colony found their own nation and defending them from the forces of neighbouring colonies.

Chapter 548 - Western Coast Incident of 603

On the 14th of the 6th month, Year 603, the Pamigar Liberation Front fought a tough battle through the night and claimed the final two port cities: Felimz and Saint Niklas. Their occupation marked the formal loss of Moloshik on their colony. For the first time in three centuries, the Nubissians successfully overwhelmed a colonising regime to gain independence and freedom.

On the 7th of the 7th month, President Taganem announced the formation of a republic for his people and made Pedapulas their capital. They would also henceforth celebrate their independence on that day every year. The other colonies were shocked. Conflicts with natives broke out all over the colonies, and where it didn't go that far, it at the very least soured relations considerably.

On the 23rd of the 7th month, Lesnia's two corps, 125 thousand troops in all, arrived in their second colony on Nubissia and marched for the pamigar republic's border.

On the 25th, a standing corps from Wasilisk arrived as well. They had also recruited a reserve corps and stationed them on the border.

On the 28th, Moloshik announced it would not give up on its colony, declaring the pamigar traitors and calling for the extermination. They wouldn't cease their efforts until their colony was reclaimed.

On the 29th, Lesnia and Wasilisk announced they didn't acknowledge the republic either, calling their violent revolt a threat to the safety and order of the western coast. They would deploy their forces in support of Moloshik.

On the 30th, Lesnia's three corps and Wasilisk's two attacked the fledgeling country together.

On the 1st of the 8th month, President Taganem announced that all of the republic's citizens were obligated to take up arms. He said he was confident they could defeat their enemies and launch a counterattack into their respective colonies to liberate the natives there so that they may found their own nations.

On the 7th of the 8th month, the pamigar republic managed to resist the assault of the Wasiliskian forces with their three new corps and the defence line they erected. They fought for three days and four nights, causing corpses to pile up into mountains. Wasilisk's two corps lost close to 50 thousand men without being able to breach the defences.

On the other hand, the two Lesnian corps and one colonial corps easily crushed the defence of the two Shiksan voluntary folks. They advanced towards the Pedapulas nonstop.

Lesnia's high-ranking officers and commanders found it fortunate that their enemies were the weak-willed Shiksans as they mocked the Wasiliskians for not being able to make any progress at their side of the border. As they marched, they chanted the slogan of breaching Pedapulas and capturing the mix-blood baron. They even personally announced that all troops were free to do what they wanted after the city was breached.

During the evening of the 7th as the officers gave the order to set up camp and rest, the Lesnian corps came under heavy cannon bombardment. What they didn't expect was for all the rounds to explode the moment they touched the ground. There were also many heavy carriages shooting flaming tubes into their camps. The thundering applause-like gunshots came from all directions. It was as if the three Lesnian corps were heavily surrounded.

It didn't take more than half an hour for their troops to crumble completely. The officers couldn't find their subordinates, while the average soldier couldn't find their superiors. They ran around like a swarm of confused rats, trampling over the injured and dead. Cannon fire, explosions, flames, corpses, blood, cries, sobs, gunshots... They all painted a gruesome sight of hell.

After the first corps fell, the lucky survivors ran without stopping until they were 15 kilometres from the hellscape before they were taken in by centre corps. Once they were informed of the heavy assault, the other corps increased nighttime security and set up a defence line. However, all that was useless when rockets and cannonballs rained down in the middle of their camp from all directions.

Row after row of tents burned brightly, illuminating the entire camp, allowing the attackers to aim and shoot better. People were occasionally blasted into the air before coming crashing down on the ground in pieces. Even so, the Lesnian troops lived up their name as tough troops. Even as they were under heavy fire, their strict discipline and preparation allowed them to function and execute their orders despite the heavy casualties to defend their camp.

However, the survivors from the vanguard became the last straw that broke their back. They were already panicked beyond recognition. The moment the bombardment on the camp began, they ran around screaming for the rest to run, greatly shaking the fighting spirit of the troops to the core.

A few of the officers of the centre corps dealt with the survivors immediately. Little did they know that the survivors would raise their arms against them to resist. All semblance of control was lost. They couldn't even tell friend from foe, driven only by the strong notion to escape the camp. Anyone that dared stop them was the enemy.

That was how the infighting began while the bombardment raged on. Eventually, they broke rank and ran their separate ways. Quite a number of troops from the centre and vanguard corps pushed the fence of their camp down, intent on running as far away from the fire as possible. They discarded their weapons and ammunition and ran, wanting nothing more than to leave the colony to return to the mainland. Only then would their safety be guaranteed.

It was a shame none of them would get their wish. The two Shiksan voluntary folks they thought they had so easily defeated were already ready to intercept them. Helpless, unarmed and lacking in supplies and water, the Lesnian troops had no choice but to surrender.

The triumphant victory that day spread like a shockwave, flabbergasting the pamigar republic and the other western colonies. When the war first broke out, every publication wrote that the pamigar country was merely a flash in the pan and would soon become history.

There was no way they could escape their fate of extermination. The pamigar republic definitely wouldn't be afforded the time to grow and would be wiped out in its infancy, bringing the whole population of five million pamigar down with it.

After all, Lesnia was considered to be among the strongest nations in Southern Freia, while Wasilisk's military might was comparable to Moloshik's. The five corps of those two nations had around 300 thousand troops. How could the pamigar hold up against that? It was already impressive they managed to form three corps to hold back the 100 thousand plus troops of Wasilisk, but it was impossible for them to resist the three Lesnian corps with a mere two folks of Shiksan volunteers.

Yet, the results of the battle shattered everyone's glasses. The two Shiksan folks didn't fail to stop the two corps; instead they had intentionally let them in and ambushed them in the dead of night, completely crushing the two Lesnian corps save for some tens of those who managed to escape.

The lucky survivors said that there were actually four instead of two folks of Shiksan volunteers. The severe explosions and flaming rockets, not to mention the non-stop gunfire, broke the standing corps that came all the way from the mainland. A third of their men were out of commission and the other 80 thousand were taken captive.

When the colonial corps of that was left behind to handle logistics heard of the wipeout of their first two corps, they dumped the supplies and made a rapid retreat in the direction they came. It took them a much shorter two days to reach the defence line they set up. They decided to strengthen their hold there.

On the 21st of the 8th month, the four Shiksan folks pushed deep into the Lesnian colony in their counterattack. The colonial forces of Lesnia crumbled after only holding on for three days. Less than a line of garrison soldiers escaped and returned to the colony's capital, Salatsburg. The four Shiksan folks, on the other hand, proclaimed that they had come upon the losman's request to liberate their people.

After that, they went on to occupy the towns and cities, detained the officials, confiscated the Lesnians' wealth, and gathered them in concentration camps as bargaining chips against Lesnia. They then left the towns and concentration camps in losman hands.

No matter how furiously Unamos, the most respected losman man, proclaimed that he didn't ask the Shiksan volunteers to come, and despite his efforts to resolve the misunderstanding by heading to Salatsburg himself, the local authorities still doubted him. They asked him, the great chieftain, to order the release of the local officials and settlers.

By then, the Lesnian authorities only held a small coastal area of the colony with five towns and two ports. On the other hand, the Shiksan volunteers only left two folks of men to face off against the defenders in Salatsburg. The other two folks had gone to attack Fochs' colony of Cape Loducus.

The United Kingdom of Fochs had no other reason for suffering the losses they did apart from having their colony near the zone of conflict.

On the 19th of the 9th month, one of the Shiksan folks conquered Cape Loducus City and took all Fochsian settlers and officials captive and also confiscated their wealth.

On the 25th of the same month, another Shiksan folk launched a probing attack on Loki Mountains, citing revenge and washing away their humiliation as the reason. They got into conflict with a local garrison force of the region. The fight lasted for eight or so hours, ending with the garrison force retreating from the border after suffering huge casualties.

The victorious Shiksans raided the three mining bases in the colony and made off with large amounts of gold dust and grains. Angered and slighted, the region immediately sent Monolith 3rd Folk out from Lanu northwards to fight.

On the 18th of the 10th month, Monolith 3rd Folk eradicated the Shiksan folk and reclaimed the eastern mountainous area before sending their troops into Cape Loducus to fight the other Shiksan folk. Gunshots rang out for a day and night. In the end, Monolith 3rd Folk obtained final victory by conquering Cape Loducus City and the two Shiksan folks retreated back into Lesnian territory in shambles.

The angered forces of the region wanted to continue pursuing their enemies, but the newly formed losman forces blocked their way at the border of the Lesnian colony. The two sides got into a series of conflicts and suffered quite a number of losses. However, the brass of the region ordered Monolith 3rd Folk to retreat to Cape Loducus to recover instead of feuding with the losman, given how long they'd be fighting nonstop.

After Cape Loducus City was conquered, the captured officials were brought to General Ezeke, intent on getting the writ to rule the city back. The general, however, refused him immediately and launched into a flurry of mockery. The colony of Cape Loducus had, after all, been taken by the forces of the region from Shiksan hands. They even released the Fochsian settlers and officials from captivity.

The general now claimed that all of Cape Loducus belonged to the region. If Fochs wanted it back, there were only two ways: buy it back or go to war over it. There was no way they would give it back for free after expending that much resources and effort to take it.

There was no counterargument to that. Not to mention, it had been raided clean by the two Shiksan folks, so nothing was left behind. Even the six thousand citizens were living off the food Monolith 3rd Folk brought with them. Ezeke would be a fool to do all that and give the colony back for nothing in return, and he would immediately be court-martialed.

Some, however, suspected the region and the Shiksans to be putting up a show, to which he angrily responded that he had long warned the military administration about the pamigars who came to recruit the Shiksan captives. The captives were all horrendous, traitorous folk, after all. He was also against the sale of weapons to the voluntary folks.

Alas, he wasn't in command and nobody heeded his warnings. And after the embargo against the region was raised, the council members wouldn't give up that chance to make money, selling anything they could get their hands on. Now, the region had been bitten by those sly wolves. Ezeke said he had told them so long ago that the Shiksan captives definitely wanted to start the colonial wars once more and formed those mercenary bands.

On the 13th of the 11th month, the region sent ambassadors to President Taganem with a stern warning for him to deal with the Shiksan criminals that were trying to instigate war and get them to call off their attacks against Loki Mountains.

However, Taganem said all he could do was try to mediate between both sides, as he had no way of controlling the Shiksans as they had long ended their employer-employee relationship some time ago. Currently, the four corps were hired by the losman in Lesnia's colony instead.

On the 18th of the 11th month at the capital of the Lesnian colony, Salatsburg, the local officials announced that Great Chieftain Unamas would be given the death sentence for his crimes: death by hanging. Countless Lesnian settlers watched as the Unamas hung in the air as they cheered, as if that was what it took to stop the chaos right now.

Chapter 549 - Death of the Great Chieftain

The death of Great Chieftain Unamas of the losman was all his own fault. He had overestimated his position's worth and believed he would be able to hold his people together in solidarity in a time of chaos such as this, which resulted in his untimely fall.

Most of the three million losman believed that Unamas was the best great chieftain, given how fair and benevolent he was. There was once when he stood up for a losman woman against a settler regardless of the repercussions. Using sufficient evidence to argue his case, he got the settler to apologise to the woman. That caused Unamas' reputation to soar to the point he was called the godfather of the losman. The local officials also respected him for being well versed in the law and obedient of it.

A great chieftain wasn't the leader of all the tribes, but rather, a position akin to a chief judge responsible for making the final judgement on conflicts between the losman and other tribes.

In the thirty years since he took up the position as great chieftain, he had dealt with up to ten thousand mediation cases such as those. Only the minority of his decisions were ever questioned. Throughout his career, he pushed for the losman to gain basic education so that their innately lazy customs and habits could change.

The informants of the autonomous region saw Unamas as the ideal candidate to lead the losman into a war for independence. What they didn't expect, however, was how Unamas wasn't keen on self-rule. Instead, he was pacifist to a fault. While he wasn't satisfied with how his fellow losman was being suppressed and taken advantage of, he trusted in the law and believed that peaceful protest would one day shape the laws to give the losman a fair chance.

Unamas' only mistake was having received aid from the region in the form of weapons. The informants believed that with the 15 thousand new muskets, the losman would soon go the way of the pamigar and start the war for independence. Little did they know that the great chieftain only accepted those weapons to form his own force to defend himself and protect the losman from being affected by the pamigar's flames of war.

However, when the four Shiksan voluntary folks moved a little too fast and exterminated the three Lesnian corps, they swept through most of their colony, leaving the settlements emptied by their raid in the care of the local losman. Even with Unamas banning the losman from joining the war, there were some who were unhappy with the decision who took over the towns and cities the Shiksans passed through.

Troubled, Unamas refused his family and friends' advice and wasn't willing to meet with the ambassadors of the Shiksan folks. He insisted on meeting the local officials at the capital, Salatsburg, in hopes of clarifying the misunderstanding and revealing the lies the Shiksan folks were spreading about having come on the losman's request.

However, he overestimated the tolerance of the officials. At the same time, he hadn't expected the personal effect the battles would have on him. Even when he said he would have his personal force work with the colonial forces to repel the Shiksan invaders to restore peace in the colony, all he got was the suspicious glares of the officials who doubted every single word of his.

The officials might've trusted Unamas before the three Lesnian corps invaded the pamigar nation. Perhaps they might even reward him with a friendship token. But with the three Lesnian corps now completely eliminated and the colony only controlling a small part of their former territory, the officials' only reaction was doubt. What did the great chieftain mean by those words? Was he trying to doublecross them?

The officials thus suggested that Unamas launch a heavy attack on the two approaching Shiksan folks and ordered him to rescue the captive officials and settlers to ensure their safety. Only when those were achieved would the colony administration believe that the losman didn't betray them.

Unamas made them a hearty promise, and the Shiksan folks were indeed halted in their tracks in a standoff at Salatsburg. They didn't stop the messengers Unamas sent out to call for the release of the officials and settlers to the other settlements controlled by the losman either. Soon, the people gathered in the concentration camps were released and transported to Salatsburg on old carriages.

Unamas didn't think that the officials would jail him after he fulfilled those two requests. All the officials and soldiers who guarded his cell called him a traitor. Soon, his attendant was harshly beaten and chased away, leaving him alone in his house arrest in his stone house.

As the number of returned officials and settlers increased, word of Unamas' imprisonment in Salatsburg spread. The settlers who lost families during the chaos demanded the colonial administration to kill the highest-ranking losman who triggered the revolt. After all, their suffering was only made possible by the losman who aided the Shiksan voluntary corps, after all.

Throughout two centuries of colonial rule, the Lesnian settlers still held discriminatory views on the native losman. They thought of themselves as noble, white settlers and the losman as lowly, primitive folk. Oftentimes, the settlers would oppress the natives to varying degrees in daily life.

When the Shiksan voluntary folks raided those towns and gathered the settlers in camps, many losman exacted revenge against the settlers. The young daughters and wives of the settlers were the losman youths' favourite.

Laughably, the Lesnians didn't hate the Shiksan soldiers that raided them at all, perhaps due to their similar fair complexion. Though, there was a case to be made that they didn't harm any of the settlers' family members during the raids.

Additionally, the Shiksan soldiers called themselves mercenaries which the losman paid a huge price to hire to achieve independence and found a nation like the pamigar.

As for how much they were paid in total, the low-ranked soldiers didn't know, save for their superiors' satisfaction with the amount. It was said that the great chieftain of the losman and many of the tribe elders agreed to it. The soldiers were all promised a huge haul after successfully achieving their objectives.

That was how all the Lesnian hate got transferred on the losman. They stood together and called for harsh punishment on the losman, especially the imprisoned Great Chieftain Unamas. By the time their youth, and even some white-haired old men, enlisted for the forces for the sake of revenge, the local officials could no longer contain their collective hate.

When the president of the pamigar republic, Taganem, was questioned by the region's ambassadors about the actions of the Shiksan folk, he said that they no longer took orders from the pamigar as the losman had hired them away. So, the burden fell on the poor, old great chieftain to bear.

Before his execution, Unamas Diya Modrikus told his sentencer, "Kill me, and you shall lose all hope for peace."

The man, however, barked, "A traitor like you should've died long ago! You kept us shrouded in your lies. If you didn't betray us, why would the Shiksan folks listen to your orders? Not only that, they even let you take over the towns they raided!"

Unamas merely smiled and sighed, before falling silent and letting the rope be looped around his neck. The boards beneath his feet were loosened the moment the bell was rung. Accompanying his death were the thunderous cheers and clenched fists of the settlers in the air. They were relishing in the rush of vengeance.

The 11th month of Year 603 pushed the western colonies into a dangerous predicament. First came the pamigar's war for independence and defence of their sovereignty, during which three corps of pamigars stopped two Wasiliskian corps from advancing and even encroached upon their border.

The remnants of the Wasiliskian forces could no longer function as a cohesive unit. Faced with the nonstop and forceful attacks of the pamigar, the only thing they could do was to let their garrison forces join the frontlines. However, the hole left in their place tempted the jisdor to act. Soon, many conflicts between the jisdor and the settlers broke out.

The Wasiliskian officials couldn't cry even if they wanted. Why did their battle to take Moloshik's territory turn into a defensive fight for survival? That wasn't helped by the fact that the skro and jisdor were about to join in. Being on their wit's end, the Wasiliskian officials had no choice but to request military aid from Opsaro's colony.

When the 300-thousand-plus soldiers of Wasilisk and Lesnia launched their attack, everyone thought the pamigar nation would come to an end. And yet, Wasilisk ended up being invaded themselves after three months and even had to request aid.

Wasilisk's three corps had been beaten and scattered, with the four Shiksan voluntary folks having swept across most of their colony. Then, something completely inexplicable happened. The two Shiksan folks were in a standoff against the Lesnian troops, yet they didn't attack despite the advantage they held. The other two, on the other hand, suddenly launched an attack on Fochs' Cape Loducus.

After taking Cape Loducus, they turned to attack Loki Mountains and defeated a local garrison line, taking control of the three gold mines there. Angered, the region sent Monolith 3rd Folk north. After a heated battle and substantial casualties, they crushed those two Shiksan folks and occupied Cape Loducus.

All of a sudden, the Fochsian colony had become the region's. The angered region sent ambassadors to question the pamigar republic about the Shiksan soldiers' actions, only to find that they were no longer affiliated with them and were currently serving the losman.

It was as if the region had stabbed itself in the back by releasing the Shiskan captives. After the Shiksans formed their mercenary folks and were rearmed, the hatred and humiliation they had for losing against the region once more festered, causing them to launch a probing attack on it.

However, the region's forces were far tougher. Using Monolith 3rd Folk, they managed to take down enemies double their number and even occupied Cape Loducus. Even so, they still suffered rather heavy casualties.

As such, the region made an urgent callback to Monolith 1st and 2nd Folks that were stationed in the Nasrian region to toughen its defences, lest the enemy attacked them from a blindspot. That would also serve to calm the populace.

Additionally, word from Lesnia was that the two Shiksan folks' probing attacks were unfruitful at best, huge losses at worst. Of the 60 thousand men who joined the attack, only thousands returned. They were soon absorbed into the 1st and 2nd Voluntary Shiksan Folks to make up for their casualties. All of a sudden, 3rd and 4th Folks vanished without a trace.

As the battle between the region and the Shiksan folks came to an end, Lesnia's colonial officials did the crazy act of sentencing Unamas, who had voluntarily surrendered himself at Salatsburg as a hostage in good faith, to death by hanging. When word of that got out, the losman were infuriated. They gathered their youths and marched for Salatsburg with weapons in hand.

While the losman didn't properly support the revolt even as the four Shiskan folks were invading Lesnia's colony, Unamas' death was the critical event that kicked the losman revolt into action.

Back then, the losman didn't take the initiative to attack the settlers in the cities and towns, with some continuing to work for the settlers like usual. Even after taking over control from the Shiksan folks, they treated the settlers and officials with care. While quite a number of Lesnians hurt the losman out of revenge, only a minority of those incidents caused loss of life.

When they received a letter from Unamas to release the settlers and officials, they obeyed the orders without hesitation and even prepared carriages for them. Little did they know that their kind gestures were repaid by vile venom when the very people they let go called for the hanging of their great chieftain.

His death was unforgivable for the losman. As Unamas had gone to Salatsburg on his own accord, he was a guest by losman customs. Yet, their capture and execution of him was the worst insult the losman could receive. One of the losman's other customs was to pay a debt of blood with blood.

That sparked the end of the Lesnian colonial days. Even with a force of 30 thousand settler youths, they weren't able to resist the suicidal attacks of the Shiksan-aided losman. In a short four months, the Lesnian colony was awash in blood. Almost all settler males and elderly were killed. Only the young women were left alive to be their slaves.

Only a few settlers managed to escape that fate by seeking asylum with the voluntary Shiksan folks. Among them was a pair of siblings, a brother and a sister, who eventually survived the cruel times. The elder sister eventually became a scholar who authored a classic chronicle titled 'Era of Massacre' that detailed the bloody history of those times.

Chapter 550 - Return of General Birkin

On the morning of the 27th of the 11th month, Birkin returned to force headquarters. Claude gave him a warm hug in welcome. The two later went to Claude's office for a private conversation.

Birkin had departed on his trip during the 9th month, whereas Monolith 1st and 2nd Folks would be back in another month. Birkin had returned a month earlier to take over management of force headquarters as Claude was to head to the mainland. There were many things he, the commander-in-chief, had to discuss with the bigwigs in the royal capital in person.

Claude opened a bottle of fruit wine and drank it with Birkin as they talked. The latter gave him a briefing on the mainland's situation, the Nasrian territory, the Great Plains of Canas, the development of the region's fiefs, and the Askilinian and Rimodran territories held by the region's troops.

In the 8th month, the reorganised Reddragon took over Polyvisia in the Nasrian territory while Griffon took over Audin Mountain Range and the Sidinsian territory. Monolith 1st and 2nd Folks were transferred to the Rimodran region as they prepared to return to Nubissia.

After Monolith's return, there would still be four folks of Thundercrash and eight garrison lines, a total of 200 thousand troops, stationed on the mainland. They await Claude's arrival and their reorganisation.

"Pay attention to these three things. Restructure Monolith into four folks per the new standards. 3rd Folk has already been reorganised and is stationed in Cape Lodocus. Now that we've swallowed that territory, we're never giving it back. As for how we'll develop it, Lord Militant Bolonik already has a proposal. It isn't the business of the military administration, so we'll just do our best to cooperate.

"Next, continue work on Operation Wildfire. The pamigar republic has been stabilised. War is the most potent stimulant for a person and a nation's potential. While the pamigar suffered over 100 thousand casualties, their forces are now plenty experienced and well trained. Their three corps are counter-attacking into Wasilisk's colony and forcing the Wasiliskian settlers to request military aid from Opsaro.

"Our first phase was initially supposed to force the natives in Moloshik's colony, Lesnia's second colony, Wasilisk's colony, Fochs' third colony and Opsaro's colony to found their own nations. We would have swallowed Cape Loducus after that.

"We overestimated our ability, however, and most of the first phase was a failure. The pamigar did liberate themselves and found a nation, but the losman have disappointed. They've not only not cooperated, they've even gone on a killing spree. We've thus far counted 300 thousand Lesnian corpses in their wake. Only the young women have been spared, though I'm not sure that's any better given what they're to be used for.

"The two voluntary Shiksan folks we stationed there even stepped out to stop their massacre and rescued some of the women and elderly, only to be attacked by the losman who thought they were siding with the Lesnians. We had the violent aggressors killed, but that prompted the losman to unite and demand we leave their land. They even cut off the two folks' supplies.

"The losman's biggest problem is the death of their great chieftain, Unamas. They no longer have a leader capable and charismatic enough to unite them. His nephews started fighting amongst themselves before his corpse was cold. They've gathered their factions and none are willing to take a step back.

"While Lesnia's second colony is entirely reclaimed, the losman are still a mess. They're useless if they can't band together and form a functioning government. I fear they might even become a burden. If we interfere and support one of them, they'll see us the same way they do Lesnia.

"The strategy department has proposed several ideas. One even suggested we just wipe them all out and take the colony for ourselves. That doesn't help us at all, however. The way things are currently we have plausible deniability, if we step out from behind the curtains, there is no avoiding bloodying our noses.

"At least a quarter of the inland colonies are colonies in name only. In reality they're untouched wastelands with just a couple settlements here and there. Not to mention that many of them are absolutely tiny. None of them are self-sufficient yet, so they'll be a net drain on us.

"We have absolutely no interest in the losman's land. The losman themselves are worth more to us as a buffer, trade market and recruitment pool than the land they claim.

"Leave them be. We'll wait and see if someone capable enough emerges on their own to deal with this. At the very least we don't have to worry about them turning on us. They're too occupied with Lesnia, the latter won't forgive the massacre.

"Word from Southern Freia is that Moloshik, Lesnia, and Wasilisk are preparing for war. They're recruiting and forming new corps for an expedition our agents tell us is planned for the second half of next year. If the losman don't prepare, they'll be the ones to choke on their own blood this time.

"The two revolts have put the mainland powers on guard. They've come down hard on natives in the remaining colonies, and are preparing more troops to come over to Nubissia."

Claude's mouth was dry from all the talking. He filled his glass, downed it, and filled it again. Birkin listened silently, turning to the map on the wall from time to time, and mulled over what he had just heard.

Claude finished his second glass, opened another bottle and refilled it for a third time, then took his place in front of the map. His finger tapped where the pamigar republic had been painted over the former colony.

"I'd hazard the guess that we'll see two operations next year. The colonies will not stand for any natives to have a functioning country, much less one founded on colonial soil. It'll stir up unrest all over the rest of the continent.

"Moloshik, Lesnia, and Wasilisk will move on the republic first. They no doubt think they can leave the losman to their infighting for the time being. The greater threat is the united republic. Our network of informants say both Moloshik and Lesnia are forming three corps. Wasilisk has gotten started on two. That's eight corps; 500 thousand men.

"Let's be frank. This is not going to be easy. You'll be up against it on your own for at least eight months, and you probably have at best as long to prepare. That said, you must keep the republic afloat."

Birkin nodded.

"What do I have to work with?"

Claude flashed him a war-weary smile.

"I don't know, to be honest. The pamigar have three corps fighting Wasilisk, but the fight's still up in the air. In the original plan, the skro and jisdor in Wasilisk's colony should be starting armed insurrections with the pamigar and losman's help to defeat the colonial forces of Wasilisk, reclaim their land, and found their own nation and united government.

"Currently, the losman are suffering from internal strife, so the planned 100 thousand soldiers are gone. The skro's armed conflicts so far are all bark but no bite, making more noise than actually accomplishing anything significant. They're easily put down by the local garrisons.

"While the three pamigar corps are rather capable, they're held back by one Wasiliskian corps and another Opsaroan corps. They do have the advantage, but they can't breach the enemy's defence line and are still in a standoff.

"If things had gone as planned and the jisdor and skro managed to form their own nations in Wasilisk's colony, the three pamigar corps would be able to rest and recover. The losman would also be able to provide two light-cavalry corps. Coupled with the one corps from the jisdor and another from the skro, there would be seven native corps in total. We only have to send another corps to help them to have a total of 500 thousand troops. That way, we wouldn't have to worry about the troops from those nations.

"But now, the only ones we can count on are the three pamigar corps. The losman can't be bothered to send help with all their infighting. As for the jisdor and skro, they're even worse off. The only thing you can do is to convince the pamigar to form two more corps to prepare for battle. That way, you'll at least have five corps to your disposal.

"Also, Bick, your first assignment is to reform Monolith. You may use the extra troops left over to form a voluntary corps to help with the pamigar's fight. The other thing you can hope for is the selection of a new leader for the losman to work with us and provide two light-cavalry corps."

"Why don't you get the two voluntary Shiksan corps to fight Wasilisk?" Birkin asked, puzzled.

"We can't!" Claude sighed. "There are two reasons. The first is Cape Loducus. Before we settle the matter of ownership with the Fochsian ambassador, the two folks will have to be stationed in the losman's territory. In the show we put up with the pamigar to everyone else, the voluntary Shiksan corps have been hired by the losman. If they fight for the pamigar against Wasilisk before the losman situation settles down, our lie will be exposed.

"The other reason is Shiks has sent an ambassador to contact the voluntary Shiksan folks. Fortunately, the losman found out and caught them. That darned Majid III still hasn't given up. His ambassador wanted to convince the officers of the two Shiksan folks to betray us so that Shiks can get another colony on Nubissia. The ambassador offered amnesty for the Shiksan troops' crimes and would allow them to return to Shiks to return to their families and discharge after they manage to take over a colony."

Shocked, Birkin said, "They actually sent an ambassador to them?!"

Claude nodded helplessly. He looked for a document on his desk and handed it to Birkin. "Shiks has informants in our region. As we are calling for the captives to join the voluntary folks, the informant reported this to their home nation. Majid III wants to turn them against us to get a colony for himself.

"Look at this document. The ambassador was clear in his testimony that Majid III personally gave the order. Fortunately, the folks are now stationed in the inner continent in the losman's territory while the ambassador arrived here at a port. As he's white, he got scrutinised by the losman. Having no choice, he revealed his identity as a Shiksan ambassador. The losman then sent him to the branch office we set up there. Being taken captive, the ambassador cooperated and confessed to everything.

"That's why we can't move these two folks. I worry that won't be the last ambassador to come here. If they make contact without us knowing and are convinced, it'll bring us huge trouble. It might even put Operation Wildfire to a complete halt.

"Currently, I'm using a few garrison lines to fill in for those Shiksan folks, having them pretend to be Shiksan mercenaries and stationing them in losman territory. The two actual Shiksan folks have been transferred to a secret camp in Robisto to be expanded. The news brought by the escapees from the Shiksan homeland is spreading. Some of the captives are really enraged. I plan to lead them to attack Shiks next year."

Things clicked into understanding in Birkin's head. "You mean to say, we can't count on the Shiksan folks in the coming year, right?"

"That's right. After new year's eve, I will be returning to the mainland to fulfill the kingdom's order for an ironclad fleet and to reorganise Thundercrash, form a new corps, Typhoon and gather the Shiksan volunteers to make an advance on Shiks when the opportunity shows itself. We'll crush this headache of a nation for good so that our kingdom and autonomous region won't have to worry about them any longer.

"Additionally, I intend to get some war funds from Shiks. Operation Wildfire might take ten or more years to complete. We'll still have to pour in much more funds into it before then. Our income in the region alone isn't able to sustain such an expenditure, so I intend to source some of it from elsewhere. During the Second Great Eastern Freian War, our experience in Nasri showed us that nothing makes more money than robbing a nation. Not to mention, Shiks has always been itching on going to war with us.

"Lastly, I hope we can gain enough immigrants from Shiks to our region. The kingdom has sealed off most avenues of immigration to the region, but we still need more manpower to develop. Those 500 thousand Shiksan captives have lived here for many years and like it here. Most of them want to become permanent residents. However, their kingdom has declared them traitors and they can't return home.

"I used the experience of the two thousand captives when they were sent back to Shiks to stoke their anger. So, now, most of them want to go back to fight Shiks. I've decided to expand them to have eight folks and lead them to Eastern Freia. That way, we'll have enough troops to attack Shiks. Once Shiks is defeated, those voluntary soldiers will bring their families to the region. Think about how many more citizens we can gain by doing this."

Chapter 551 - Cape Lodocus's Handover

'There is no such thing as 'enough soldiers'.'

It was an ancient saying on Freia; ancient people couldn't remember who had said it first, or what the occasion had been. They only knew it came from the early days of musketry, back when men lined up and shot at each other from a mere stone's throw away. As the tactic became more widespread, the sizes of armies and basic units blew up, the numbers changed almost annually. Eventually they had from twelve men per row and 30 thousand per folk. However, those numbers presented a huge burden on nations during peacetime, so each nation would usually only hold two to three corps of standing troops and form new ones during wartime.

As Claude told Birkin, the Southern Freian nations of Moloshik, Lesnia, Wasilisk and Opsaro were recruiting troops for new corps. However, only the former three were going to war. Opsaro was still in preparation stage and only recruited enough to form one corps, since the war at the western coast hadn't reached their colony yet.

While the other nations that have colonies at the western coast weren't preparing for battle yet, they still sent their troops to their colonies to strengthen their hold over the natives, lest they suffered the same fate Moloshik, Lesnia and Wasilisk did. However, recruiting new soldiers and training them to be sent to the colonies would take at least half a year, so Birkin still had some eight months to prepare himself against the three nations' 500 thousand troops.

Claude called Birkin to force headquarters to take over him because they were facing a huge problem: the lack of funding. He had to find ways to get them more. The method he chose was to rob another nation of their wealth. There was no better and quicker way.

If the region wasn't carrying out Operation Wildfire, they would be downsizing the corps and local garrisons and would have much military budget left over. They still had 20 million crowns in the overseas bank which they got from robbing Nasri. Had Claude not wanted to push for any drastic action, they would have at least enough to spend the next decade comfortably.

However, in consideration of the long term, Claude had to make sure the western colonies remained an open market for the region to be able to ensure the smooth-sailing development of the region's economy in the decades to come. Hence, the region had no choice but to go forward with Operation Wildfire and also use that chance to train their baseline and high-ranking officers. Otherwise, the soldiers would be spoiled by peace and even the most elite of them would become useless degenerates who could barely reload their guns.

Not to mention, the embargo of the western colonies against the region was plain old hostility. It was no wonder the council members called for war. Cutting off their business avenue was akin to killing their parents. Given how much smuggling to the western colonies made them, suddenly cutting that off was bound to ruffle more than a few feathers.

However, Claude didn't expect the operation to cost so much. The military spending alone exceeded twelve million crowns, among that including funding for the two voluntary Shiksan folks, and the arms support given to the losman, pamigar, skro, and jisdor.

Claude initially imagined Operation Wildfire to cost nothing more than small supplies of arms and ammunition for the natives to fight guerilla battles. That would be the most cost-savvy approach. However, the proposal Borkal and the other high-ranking officers submitted was the formation of a proper standing corps to liberate the natives. That easily caused them to overshoot their budget.

Naturally, that wasn't to say that it wasn't effective. At least, the pamigar managed to found their independent nation. While the losman were still fighting amongst themselves for power, they were at least on irreconcilable terms with the Lesnian settlers. But now, the region had to ensure the continued existence of the pamigar republic so that they could continue to be an example for the other natives.

Birkin left Lanu two days after his secret conversation with Claude for a personal survey of the frontlines at the western coast, specifically, the pamigar's capabilities. He would only come back to reform Monolith 1st and 2nd Folks after they returned to the region. Claude still had to stay in force headquarters to deal with the busywork and could only return to the mainland next spring.

Currently, he held the annual finance records of the region. They were severely in the red thanks to Operation Wildfire, having cost the region 12 million and 830 thousand crowns. Much of it included funding and aid to the pamigar republic, amounting to three million crowns in total. Fortunately, their pensions for the hurt and killed didn't have to be paid for by the region. Otherwise, the 170 thousand plus casualties would bankrupt it.

There was still around 10 million crowns in the overseas bank, so there was enough for next year's funding. Coupled with the downsizing and reorganisation, they would be able to save up to 100 thousand crowns from bonuses and salaries. However, it wasn't clear whether they still had to fund Operation Wildfire next year onwards. While the aid provided to the natives was considered loans, they were bound to be unrecoverable in the short term.

Additionally, while the region's income was increasing by the year, the council wouldn't easily give them more budget just because the military administration asked for it. The council had already taken out 30 million crowns to buy fiefs from the Stellin royal family. They got 15 million from the order of ships and weapons the kingdom made.

While that arms deal earned the region eight million crowns, not one bit of it was cash as the deal was considered to be part of the sum the region needed to pay for their fiefs and Titles in addition to the 30 million they handed over. While it looked like the region profited off it, the kingdom didn't actually have to pay out one crown.

The region's council gave the military administration such a huge sum, not to mention the additional two million crowns they allocated for the four shipyards to maintain and expand Ironclad. As for the new 16 latest-model warships, they would replace the 16 old ones to be handed over to the kingdom. The five million it would cost for that replacement had to be paid by the region itself.

The council would definitely not be increasing their military funding in the coming years as they were running out. Most of their profits would be used to develop the fiefs in the vicinity of Northbay. It would take two to three years for that area to stabilise, before which the region had to constantly infuse resources to develop the fiefs uniformly.

"Lord Militant, the ambassador from the United Kingdom of Fochs is requesting to meet you," Fachselin said.

"He's still here? Hmm... let him in. Tell him he has ten minutes."

The Fochsian ambassador reached Lanu half a month ago, intent on demanding the region to return Cape Loducus. However, he was yet another fellow who expected to be given what he wanted without paying a single penny.

Regrettably, he didn't achieve his goals. Neither the council members nor high-ranking officers agreed to his ridiculous demand. Claude had met him once and gave him the region's ultimatum.

Fochs had to pay two million crowns to ransom Cape Loducus back. An additional condition was for the region to be allowed to station troops in the colony as a measure against the threat the losman posed to the region.

Two million crowns was already a huge price cut to Claude, and stationing troops there was a no-brainer. To Fochs, Cape Loducus was an unproductive colony they could do without. But for the region and Loki Mountains, it was a strategic military zone. If the enemy occupied Cape Loducus, they could attack Loki Mountains from the east and north.

As such, to prevent the loss caused by the attacks of the voluntary Shiksan folks mounted on Loki Mountains, the region had to have a military presence there. Naturally, it was also beneficial to the colony in that the citizens would no longer have to worry about being raided by the horrid Shiksan mercenaries. Even now, they were still relying on Monolith 3rd Folk's supplies to survive.

All in all, Fochs only had to pay two million crowns and a small, symbolic protection fee of 50 thousand crowns to the region to get their colony back. The fee would be a small bonus to the troops stationed there.

Additionally, Fochs was to pay to cover Monolith 3rd Folk's costs up till now, seeing as the five thousand citizens of Cape Loducus City had been sustaining themselves off the folk for free. That amount was set to be 500 thousand crowns. After all, Monolith 3rd Folk suffered nearly ten thousand casualties in the battle against the Shiksan mercenaries.

Claude's demands were extremely reasonable. In fact, they could be considered magnanimous. Yet, the ambassador still mulled around, unwilling to agree to the terms. Claude reminded him that Shiks had loaned the colony for five million gold keptons back then, so the region asking for two million as ransom wasn't excessive at all.

The ambassador said he couldn't make that decision himself and had to contact his kingdom. Only the five dukes and the king could make a decision on that. Five days later, Monolith 3rd Folk's folksman, General Ezeke, sent an eagle message saying that a fleet of sail warships from Fochs anchored down at Cape Loducus. They were allegedly going to host a banquet to calm the five thousand raided Fochsian settlers.

Ezeke agreed on humanitarian and sympathetic grounds. The Fochsians made merry at the bay the whole night, with all forty-plus ships lit in a festive mood. The dances and songs followed nonstop until midnight.

The next dawn, however, the lookouts from 3rd Folk noticed that all those ships and the five thousand settlers had vanished without a trace, save for some tens of helpless nikancha servants at the beach.

It was apparent that Fochs had given up on Cape Loducus without even paying for the fees incurred by the five thousand settlers, smuggling them away with lowly tricks instead. That was all within Claude's expectations, however, as Cape Loducus didn't even generate 20 thousand crowns yearly for Fochs, nor did it have any mines or resources worth excavating. It also wasn't that developed, so there was no harm in abandoning it.

Only Shiks was willing to spend a stupid amount of five million gold keptons, the equivalent of 2.5 million crowns, to lease the colony from Fochs for five years. Fochs really made huge profits off that deal.

It was said that Fochs had wanted to sell the colony to Shiks for 20 million gold keptons, yet Majid III, in an uncharacteristically pauper-like moment, refused to pay that kind of money, instead choosing to pay a small price of a million gold keptons each year.

Yet, all that still ended with the huge defeat of Shiks and their complete loss of eleven standing corps. Cape Loducus was also occupied during the last two years of its lease, making Shiks a huge joke among the western colonies.

While the region's demand for two million as ransom and an annual protection fee of 50 thousand, not to mention 500 thousand crowns of costs the five thousand settlers incurred was reasonable, it was simply a really bad deal for Fochs. They would rather just give up on the colony altogether.

Claude didn't think the ambassador would remain in the region despite all that. He should've fled after Fochs secretly spirited their settlers away. It was a humiliating matter, after all. Why would the ambassador still dare to meet Claude despite that?

Soon, he entered Claude's office. Claude didn't bother with pleasantries and gave him a sour look the whole time. The ambassador, however, bowed without batting an eye, demonstrating the steadiness of nobles.

"Your kingdom really made a bold move to take all your settlers away like that. Looks like you don't intend to pay a single crown to your saviours, huh?" Claude said.

The ambassador lowered his head. "Lord Militant, it's not that we don't want to pay the region for what it has done for us. We simply can't afford to. In the past few years, our kingdom has been ravaged by national disasters and civil unrest is growing. With the stifling economy, that sum is not something we can accept, so we had no choice but to leave."

Claude clicked his tongue at that bullshit. He hadn't heard of any natural disasters befalling the Fochs Islands. In fact, the publications from the Southern Freian nations reported that Fochs enjoyed great potato harvests, with their people celebrating in joy. "So, you don't want Cape Loducus anymore?"

"That's correct. After much consideration, we decided we would hand over the colony proper to the region as a sign of gratitude for our settlers' safety." The ambassador handed over a few documents he took out from his leather bag.

Claude took a look and saw that it was proof of the colony's transference to the autonomous region as thanks for saving the Fochsian settlers.

The document had the king's signature and seal. Upon closer inspection, one could tell that the seal and signature were applied on a piece of blank paper. The stipulations above were added later.

Claude laughed and tossed it on his desk. "The military administration doesn't need something like this, Mister Ambassador. Know that our warriors suffered up to ten thousand casualties to take the colony from the Shiksan mercenaries and save your settlers. We didn't get it from you.

"Instead of this proof of transference, I would rather you pay the ransom and protection fee. The region doesn't care for such a small colony."

The ambassador was taken aback by Claude's unexpected reaction. He hurriedly said, "Lord Militant, this document is only a sign of our sincerity. I have come on behalf of my kingdom to discuss cooperation with your army. We hope to import your advanced ironclad-warship technology--"

Claude shook his head. "Pay the ransom, protection fee and 500 thousand crowns first before you come to me to discuss importing our warship-construction techniques. Otherwise, forget it. Men, send this ambassador out."

Chapter 552 - Homecoming Shiksans

The moment Claude heard the Fochsian ambassador mention construction techniques of ironclad warships, he knew why the Fochsian king was so happy and willing to sign his name and stamp his seal on a blank piece of paper. It was yet another fool that lusted after the ironclad warships, intending on using the handover of Cape Loducus as a bargaining chip, hoping that this would count as doing the region a favour in return for the technology.

That was the reason Claude chased the ambassador out with the excuse of them not wanting to pay, even for the saving and feeding of the Fochsian settlers. It sent a clear message that he would rather Fochs pay the ransom, costs and protection fee than offering up the colony.

Throughout the 12th month, ambassadors from various nations came to the region, among whom included those from the eight nations with colonies at the western coast. Those eight nations also wanted the technology for ironclad warships or buy one or two ironclad warships which they could re-engineer and forge. Ideally, they wanted to poach a few engineers of their own.

However, Port Patres in Robisto was tightly guarded. It was where the ironclad warships were constructed and the main naval base of the region. Entry was forbidden to most. It was a shame the informants that came with the ambassadors fell into the hands of the region and were sent to the mines as forced labour.

Having no choice, those ambassadors thickened their skin and came knocking on Claude's door to ask what he wanted in exchange. However, he refused them without giving ground. Just because he gave Aueras 16 ironclad warships didn't mean he was ready to share the technology just yet. Before the other nations managed to develop their own ironclad warships, the region would definitely not be selling any of them to other nations, to say nothing of sharing the technology.

In the past two years, the Freian nations scrambled towards developing their own ironclad warships and a few nations made decent progress. The region's informants reported that at least three to four nations managed to develop proper iron hulls. Naturally, the ships weren't as long as the region's own and were more rounded like traditional sail warships. It was no surprise, considering Claude's otherworldly insights allowed them to skip a few mistaken steps.

The reports say those nations basically installed heavy cannons on their armoured ships as well as tens of cannons on each side of the ship firing solid shot. Basically, they were dressing sail ships with an iron coating. Even so, it was already a huge improvement.

It was no surprise that the eight Southern Freian nations wanted to try getting the technology from the region as they were maritime nations that relied on their colonies and maritime trade to amass countless amounts of wealth. They understood well how huge an impact ironclad warships could have on their naval power. They were the ones who wanted the warships the most to protect their interests at sea.

As the ambassador of Carmenleon had said during his meeting with Bolonik, the eight Southern Freian nations enacted the embargo against the region with the intent of using it as a negotiating tool to force it to hand over the technology while opening their markets only slightly.

Initially, Claude and the other council members were quite confused by the embargo. The western colonies couldn't possibly fulfil all demand for every product with their own offerings. There were many goods that didn't merit shipment to the colonies because of unprofitability. That would be a good opening for the region's products instead. There was no need to forbid all the region's products from being sold.

It was only then when they realised the true intention behind the embargo was to use it to bargain with the region for ship-building technology. What they didn't expect, however, was the region not willing to negotiate trade in the slightest and executing Operation Wildfire instead. They were trying to get the natives to chase the settlers out of Nubissia and end the colonial age for good.

The ambassadors could never guess the region's true intentions. No matter how much they tried to get on the council members and officers' good sides, making sure to maintain good relationships, none of them were willing to help the ambassadors get what they wanted.

Though, there was a common, yet unspoken understanding that the region was actually the mastermind behind the native revolts as an act of retaliation against the embargo. Moloshik and Lesnia were probably regretting sticking their hands into this matter. Not only did they lose their colonies, they also lost up to three corps of troops and didn't even have evidence to accuse the region.

Regretting now, however, wasn't an option for the western colonies. Even if they called the embargo off, it would be no big deal to the region. The region was merely a goods producer, after all, and their products were normally distributed by private merchants. Now, however, the region had a secret pathway through the nikancha nation. While it cost them quite a lot to repair the road, they were free to use it all for themselves and not share it with other merchants, making their profits much higher.

Just as the ambassadors were about to return empty handed, Monolith 1st and 2nd Folks returned to the region. Claude finally breathed a sigh of relief now that there was a reliable defence force in the region. He wouldn't have to worry about protecting the region from unexpected changes any longer.

Birkin also finished his survey of the frontlines at the western coast and returned to Lanu. He would be undertaking reforms for Monolith 1st and 2nd Folks. According to the new structure, those two folks were to be divided into the 1st, 2nd and 4th, each having 18 thousand men. Monolith corps as a whole would have 90 thousand men. They would be the forces the region could count the most on.

After the reorganisation, Birkin would have to form a temporary voluntary corps for use at the western coastal theatre. They would fight to liberate the other natives in the western colonies and chase the colonisers off Nubissia. Almost all of the baseline officers would be promoted and transferred from Monolith. Well-performing soldiers would also need to continue being polished in the voluntary corps to become true elite forces.

Drivick and Sybilos returned to force headquarters to report to Claude. The two of them were formerly both Claude's subordinates in Thundercrash, having risen to their current position from being nothing but grunts by virtue of their achievements alone. Back when Drivick joined Thundercrash through Weyblon's connections, he was merely a first lieutenant. Now, Claude was Lord Militant and Drivick had also become a major-general of the kingdom, fulfilling his childhood dream.

This time around, Drivick and Sybilos had been appointed as the folksmen of the two voluntary Shiksan folks. They performed magnificently in the battles in Moloshik's colony and did quite a lot to help with the formation of the pamigar republic's three corps.

After that, they put up the show of fighting Monoliths 3rd and 4th Folks at Loki Mountains. All the two did was send a line of Shiksans to cause some commotion where the citizens of Cape Loducus City could see to make them think the Shiksans were actually attacking Loki Mountains.

Initially, after conquering Cape Loducus, Drivick and Sybilos were supposed to return to losman territory with their two folks to recover. But later, it was found out that Majid III had sent out an ambassador with the intent of turning the Shiksan troops against the region for the sake of obtaining another colony.

Fortunately, the ambassador was captured by the losman and sent to the region's branch office. Claude ordered the two Shiksan folks to secretly return to the region after hearing about it and stationed four temporary garrison lines disguised as Shiksan troops in losman territory to see if they could bait over a few more Shiksan ambassadors. The gold and silver mines were always in need of labourers, after all.

"How goes the mission?" Claude waved his hand when he saw them salute. "Sit down. Captain Fachselin, pour us some wine. Open that bottle of Goldapple and serve our two generals."

"You're too generous, Lord Militant. We're fine with any drink." The two generals were just as respectful to Claude as they were in the beginning. They idolised Claude back during their baseline-officer days, unlike Moriad, Myjack and Borkal, who treated him as casually as they would friends.

Goldapple was a brand of fruit wine and they were made of more than just apples. The brand name signified the precious ingredients used in the production of the wine, which was a form of self-flattery. Goldapple wines were relatively expensive compared to their counterparts on the market.

Fachselin opened a bottle and poured half a glass for each of the generals before putting the bottle to the side and leaving the office.

"Lord Militant, the eight homecoming Shiksan folks have been formed. There are 280 thousand of them in total," Sybilos reported.

Drivick breathed a long sigh. "It took us three months to form the voluntary folks, and the ones who joined are the tens of thousands of warmongering Shiksan daredevils who wanted to become permanent residents here. But now that we mentioned bringing them to fight Shiks and taking their families back to the region to become immigrants, all eight folks are filled up before even a month has passed."

Claude gave the desk a knock. "Well, they've lived here for close to a decade as captives, so it's no surprise they're homesick. That's why the captives that returned from Shiks managed to enrage them so much. They were also despairing at the prospect at no longer being able to meet their families ever again.

"Yet, now we're saying we'd take them back to Shiks to reunite them with their families and are also offering them an option to settle down in the region with the same status as immigrants from our kingdom. They'd even get farmland. We've renewed their hope for life. Them scrambling to join the homecoming folks is only natural."

"Lord Militant, there's one thing I don't understand," Drivick said, "I thought the priority of the region now is to carry out Operation Wildfire. We should be investing all our efforts in the frontlines on the western coast. There's no need for you to go to the mainland personally to attack Shiks.

"After all, Shiks isn't a nation that neighbours Aueras. It's fine even if they maintain a state of war with us. We shouldn't be fighting another war so far away on Freia. If the eight Shiksan folks are sent to fight for Operation Wildfire, on the other hand, we'd be able to storm at least half the colonies by next year."

Claude nodded. "I've considered the same matter myself, but it simply isn't possible. The eight folks are formed with the promise of going home. They aren't that loyal to us. You should know about the Shiksan ambassador that attempted to contact your folks, right? That is still classified information.

"If those eight folks fight here as mercenaries, they'll eventually run into a Shiksan ambassador. By then, they might turn their guns against us, because their first priority is to unite with their families. If we try to stop them from doing so, they'll see us as enemies.

"I'm really thankful the first Shiksan ambassador ended up captured, allowing us to expose Majid III's plans. It's finally apparent to us that these 500 thousand Shiksan captives in our territory are the biggest destabilising element.

"Let's try to imagine Majid III continuing to send spies nonstop into our territory to contact the captives and pushing them towards causing us trouble and chaos with the promise of returning home and uniting with their families. How many of them do you think would accept the mission?

"What if the informants threaten the captives to do their families ill if they don't follow their orders? What will happen to our region's security then?"

Drivick and Sybilos' hairs were standing from the chilling thought. "They can't sink that low, can they?"

"It's hard to say. We have to prepare for all eventualities. Sometimes, I really think Majid III is a madman. He always manages to surprise us when we're least expecting it. This ambassador and the four colonial wars back then is proof of his insistent, pit-bull-like madness.

"Currently, Shiks has replaced Nasri as Aueras' nemesis, and they're the largest superpower in Northern Freia. If we don't amass a force to give them a crippling blow, they might eventually become our biggest problem.

"I'm sure you know that these 500 thousand captives are merely cannon fodder Shiks sent us. They don't belong to the royal family's forces and are instead youths forcefully conscripted in the nobles' fiefs. As far as Majid III is concerned, they're completely worthless. He'd be happier with them dead.

"That's why he doesn't want them returning to Shiks and reuniting with their families. He wouldn't even agree to let 50 thousand of them go back, to say nothing of all 500 thousand, as their return would only increase the nobles' power. Majid III managed to use war as an excuse to chip down on their power after so much trouble, and he's not about to let his efforts get undone.

"Yet, we want the captives to become new immigrants for our region. So, the easiest way to do that is to send them to Shiks to fight and take their families back to join us. Only then will they begin to see themselves as one of us and be truly loyal to us."

Chapter 553 - To the Mainland

Shiks wasn't going to be an easy target; that much, Claude knew. However, he felt he didn't have a choice, as that kingdom was a little too disgusting. It was like a relentless stray dog. Though a few kicks might send it away after it sets its sights on you, it might come back later and watch you from afar, constantly putting you on edge. Perhaps when your guard finally eases, it'll leap over to give you a bite.

It was a shameless kingdom, whose king, Majid III, was somewhat of a madman. It wasn't to say that he was a bad ruler. His expert manoeuvring to curb the power of nobles in his kingdom was testament to his wit. He used the four colonial wars to chip away at their power base. While the Shiksan royal family became a laughing stock for their repeated losses, their might wasn't harmed in the slightest. Now, Majid III could make all decisions without objection from anyone.

Shiks was doubtlessly a dominating superpower in Northern Frea with territory akin to the combined territory of Aueras and Nasri, a population of 30 million, eight standing corps and vassal nations neighbouring it. It was also rich with mineable resources, allowing it to develop advanced industries. In one way, Shiksan were considered to be expert miners with a natural talent for it.

That was why all Shiks knew to do on Nubissia was mine in the inner continent while other nations developed their colonies. They loved to mine, gold and silver especially, since it brought them great wealth. In the decades they were on Nubissia, they mined nonstop and caused a lot of mineral ore to flow into Shiks.

If other nations had used so much military funding and lost some 18 corps only to lose the colonial wars, their ruling families would've gone bankrupt and nations would've collapsed from civil unrest. Yet, Shiks didn't seem to have experienced many changes. Instead, the royal family managed to secure their power base throughout those colonial wars, with the nobles scapegoated for the failures of the colonial wars.

After that, Shiks attempted to interfere in Eastern Freia by sending troops to annex the new Aueran territories with the excuse of helping with the restoration of Sidins and Rimodra. Then, they formed the new Union of Eastern Freian nations to fight Aueras as revenge for their losses suffered during the colonial conflict.

Using the debt Aueras owed Nasri and the war of debt, Shiks successfully formed the Union's army to invade Aueras and occupy its capital. Majid III rushed there to hold a grand military parade and also announced he would exterminate Aueras completely to rid Eastern Freia of the belligerent nation that was the ruiner of peace and root of all conflict.

In fact, Majid III's words almost became reality. Had Aueras not had military aid from the region, it might not have continued to exist. Only after Thundercrash and Monolith set foot on Freia did the scales tip in Aueras' favour.

After Monolith's triumph in Ambruiz, Nasri and Shiks' forces were greatly damaged. They retreated a good 50 kilometres before finding their footing once more. Thundercrash, on the other hand, attacked from Port Floric and swept through the Askilinian, Rimodran and Sidinsian regions, exterminating those two restored nations once more and capturing all family members of the two dukes.

Then, they charged straight for the Nasrian capital, Polyvisia, breached it, and captured the Nasrian royal family. Setback after setback dazzled the Union's army. The crisis at their rear caused them quite a bit of worry. Having no other choice, the Union's army retreated from the Aueran mainland and marched for Polyvisia, intending to deal with Thundercrash and Monolith first.

In the end, the Battle of Polyvisia saw the Union's army and the two corps of the region face off in an all-out battle. While the Union held numerical superiority, they fell prey to the region's trap. The greed of the Union's soldiers led them to their deaths. Only the commander-in-chief of the army, the Shiksan Duke and Lord Militant Pillag Xi Feriot, noticed something was off and escaped with 100 thousand troops back to Shiks.

In other words, Shiks once more lost to Aueras. The elimination of Sidins, Rimodra and Nasri caused their territories to be absorbed by Aueras. Thundercrash occupied the Great Plains of Canas, forcing Duke Canas to escape to Shiks with his family. All of Eastern Freia now belonged to Aueras.

Under normal circumstances, Shiks should've signed a peace deal with Aueras already. They were not neighbouring nations, after all, being split by two nations in between. With Shiks being the loser of both engagements, there was no need for them to continue struggling against Aueras. As long as they were willing to admit defeat, Aueras wouldn't make flagrant demands of them either and the two nations could finally achieve peace.

Yet, Shiks just had to have that mad king on the throne. Majid III would never admit to being the loser. Even after his loss of four standing corps and one strong fleet, he didn't send an ambassador to sue for peace with Aueras and would rather let the state of war persist to this day.

Apart from refusing to admit to his failures, Majid III also supported the escaped Prince Vedario as the new Nasrian king, despite the elimination of the kingdom. The surviving prince and Duke Canas formed courts in exile in Shiks. Shiks announced that the Second Great Eastern Freian War had not officially ended and that they would continue to help their allies reestablish their nations and wipe Aueras out.

It was truly a despicable feeling. It was as if no matter what one did, there would always be someone lying in the darkness with bad intentions, watching eternally, like a predator waiting for a chance to pounce. Claude received word in the region of Shiks that the hereditary fiefs of the nobles in the Nasrian region often came under raids by bandits from Mambamark. They could almost detect the smell of Shiksan informants behind those bandit attacks.

Initially, Claude rather enjoyed the spectacle of the kingdom's nobles being raided. He didn't think the royal capital being troubled by Shiks was a bad thing. At least, the capital's attention would be diverted from the region. He was especially envious with how Fredrey I had used enfeoffment and the bestowment of hereditary Titles to get a huge sum of money from the nobles to solve the kingdom's financial crisis in one go.

Other things aside, the 30 million crowns they got from the region alone as well as 400 thousand new rifles, 30 million rounds of ammunition, and 16 ironclad warships alone did wonders to tick Claude off. However, he alone couldn't go against the arms deal, as there were the interests of the region's council members, honorary nobles and Titled warriors to consider. Getting their own hereditary fiefs which their descendants could inherit in exchange for a sum of money was the pinnacle of what they could achieve.

Currently, the Aueran mainland was in a really good position to develop and prosper. With enough funds and waning noble influence in the royal court, Prime Minister Blancarte went full throttle with his plan to restore the kingdom's economy. Though only one year had passed, initial results were promising.

Claude didn't mind seeing the small-scale skirmishes that happened at the border of the Nasrian region and Mambamark. While Nasri had completely been enfeoffed to the nobles and they ought to deal with the bandits with their private forces, the king still had to send ambassadors to Mambamark to deal with the issue as the kingdom's representative.

Little did Claude know that Operation Wildfire would attract the mad Shiksan king's attention and cause him to send ambassadors to contact the Shiksan folks. That was something Claude couldn't tolerate at all. So, he secretly ordered the two Shiksan folks to return to the region.

As he had said to Sybilos and Drivick, if Shiks' informants managed to infiltrate the region and contact the freed Shiksan captives and threaten them with the safety of their families, the region would fall into chaos.

If he continued to let the two Shiksan folks carry out Operation Wildfire at the western coast, given their might, they could easily help one group of natives control their own colony. Should an ambassador manage to get in touch with them, that would allow Shiks to easily send troops to Nubissia once more. The fifth colonial war would start just like that.

That was the defining reason behind Claude's insistence on dealing with Shiks once and for all. He had to make that shameless nation kneel and give a kick for good measure to ensure it wouldn't cause chaos behind the scenes any longer. Only then could the kingdom continue to develop economically without worries. The region would also be able to continue Operation Wildfire uninterrupted.

To Claude, now was the greatest opportunity to defeat Shiks, mainly because Shiks had just retreated from the Second Great Eastern Freian War in defeat. Even the stubborn Majid III couldn't change the fact of their failure and the extermination of other nations in their Union. Even though the two governments in exile still existed in Shiksan borders, they had lost all their territory and were at their lowest point.

Additionally, the region and Aueras still maintained military superiority over Shiks in both technology and tactics. They were decades ahead of the Shiksan forces.

Thundercrash alone was enough to take on two Shiksan corps. Claude would be a fool if he didn't press his advantages on the battlefield immediately and waited for Shiks to catch up.

Thirdly, Claude didn't lack any guides through Shiks. The eight homecoming Shiksan folks were the best vanguard he could ask for. They didn't belong to the Shiksan royal family, but rather, Majid III's enemies, the Shiksan nobles. They hated Majid III with a passion for seeing them as disposable and leaving them to rot in the region, not to mention stopping them from returning and reuniting with their families.

Claude basically treated the 500 thousand Shiskan captives as his own. The only trouble he had was how to make sure they were loyal to him and willingly became immigrants in the region. Taking them to fight a war in Shiks to bring their families back was the ideal choice.

It was also a win-win situation for the region. They would gain millions more immigrants, unlike the meagre thousand plus they got from Aueras yearly. The 500 thousand captives and their families could easily number up to two to three million new immigrants.

Claude didn't need the eight Shiksan folks to be cannon fodder, as much as they hated the royal family and the nobles that didn't care for their safety or send anyone to visit them in the region.

He only needed them to hold the territories conquered by Thundercrash. They were Shiksans to begin with and wouldn't have to worry about resistance from the local population. They could even use their experiences to stoke their sympathy. As long as no trouble broke out at the rear, Thundercrash could charge forwards at the forefront without worry.

On the 16th of the 1st month, Year 604, Claude boarded the new flagship of Ironclad, Armoured Cruiser Saint Hughslind, and departed for the Aueran mainland.

"Our region's ironclad warships have three standout properties, namely, construction, speed and firepower. In this age, no other naval force has ironclad warships that compare to ours. Most other nations are still researching how they can make these heavy ships move. We have a huge lead over them, so our main priority is focusing on how to improve our battle capabilities and seafaring range.

"I've always considered speed the most important factor in naval combat. We can only catch up to our enemies if we're fast. Even if we're numerically disadvantaged, we can use speed to perform hit-and-run tactics or surprise attacks that break enemy ship formations before dividing and conquering them.

"Firepower is also really important. Currently, we don't really have to worry about defences for our ships as the enemies' breechloading ship cannons aren't a huge threat to our armoured ships. Only heavy-ship cannons firing gigantic round shots stand a chance at damaging our ships.

"However, our ship cannons are still not that impressive yet. Have a look at the six turrets at the front of the ship. There is one cannon for each turret currently. Only when we have two cannons on each turret can we consider them a success. Naturally, our cannons are still known to be the best ship cannons ever made thanks to the fact that other nations haven't made any advances yet. The mere fact that we can shoot 2500 metres away is already a huge improvement."

Claude was circling the ship with Moriad and discussing naval-battle tactics. He was also sharing his thoughts on their current warships, not letting Moriad free until he made sure all his thoughts had been emptied into his head. Two decades later, the retired Moriad would write a naval treatise and credited Claude as the father of modern naval battles.

After a 16-day voyage, Ironclad finally appeared at Sharkmouth Bay near Whitestag. Two ironclad warships whistled a welcome from afar. One could see a sailor waving two differently coloured flags on the deck of the ship on the left with a telescope.

"The flag signals say Prime Minister Blancarte is ready to welcome Lord Militant Claude back home at Whitestag," Moriad said.

"What's the prime minister here for?" Claude mused suspiciously, "This is the last six ironclad warships we're handing them. Shouldn't the head minister of the navy, General Placek, be coming to take over command of the ships?"

"It's obvious the prime minister came for you, Chief. You're a Lord Militant, after all. Only the prime minister can match your rank for a proper welcome. As for what plans he has... well, you'll have to meet him to find out," Moriad said with a smirk.

"Darn... and I wanted to go straight to Northbay... Whatever. Let's dock first. I'll hear what he has to say."

Chapter 554 - Blancarte's Intentions

The atmosphere at the docks was quite merry, with military bands, honour guards, spectators, coloured flags and red carpets all over. The naval officers, local officials and the prime minister had been waiting for long. The welcome was surprisingly grand, which perplexed Claude somewhat.

Claude recognised the smiling prime minister; he had to get to know the old fox well. The man was the iron pillar of the king and had his deep trust. However, Claude caused quite a lot of trouble for the king and queen back then by marching his troops to the royal capital. It was thanks to the mediation of the prime minister that the matter deescalated on both sides. Claude should've been considered a person the royal family was wary and careful of, so what was the old fox trying to do by welcoming him in such a capacity?

Even so, the superficial pleasantries had to be played out. Claude disembarked from the ship and gave Blancarte a warm hug as if they were old friends who hadn't met for decades. After that, he surveyed the honour guard, greeted the naval officers and local officials, and gave a speech to the spectators with pointless platitudes praising the king before it all ended.

What came after was the official ceremony to hand the ironclad warships over. That was the third batch of six ships, and also the last batch. They had already given the kingdom six ironclad destroyers and four ironclad transport vessels before. This transaction marked the fulfilment of the arms deal between the kingdom and the region.

Those six ships had been completely overhauled by the region and covered in a new coat of paint. The ships of the region were black and grey, whereas the warships handed to the kingdom were painted in a beautiful bright silver, much to the naval officials' satisfaction. Upon entering the cabin, one would notice the exquisite cherry wood that lined the cabins. It was completely unlike the painted metal cabins of the region's ships.

"Why are your ship cannons different from ours?" Blancarte asked when he was on board for a check. The ship cannons of the six ships the kingdom received were clearly different from those of the region's. The region's cannons were completely encased whereas the kingdom's were heavy cannons that had their barrels half exposed.

"This is a requirement from your ministry of the navy. If you use the same cannons we do, you'll have to buy ammunition from us. That's why your side came to the decision to use these old cannons. At the very least, you'll be able to ensure your own supply of ammunition. After you improve your cannons, you'll also be able to switch them out to newer ones."

There were many things left unsaid, such as how one of the four ships in the first batch was disassembled by the kingdom's shipyards the moment it was handed over for the designers to draw up blueprints. It was said the kingdom had already captured four to five informants from other nations with copied designs. Some noble officers in the navy were also involved in the matter and suffered the king's wrath.

While Claude gave a pleasant-sounding excuse, his true words were left implied but unsaid. The iron warships could be handed to the kingdom, but not their new cannons. All of them were removed and the kingdom's heavy cannons were installed on them instead. Initially, the ministry of the navy objected to that change, but when Moriad told them they would have to buy ammunition from the region at the price of ten crowns per round for those new cannons, they immediately changed their minds.

The region's own first batch of ironclad warships used the same old cannons anyway, and the arms deal didn't specify that the new cannons had to be used, so the region didn't let that chance slip by. Once they showed the original blueprints of the ironclad warships to the kingdom and told them the new cannons were installed later, and that they would have to be bought with a few fortunes, the ministry of the navy became terrified of the price tag.

It would take around a hundred shots for a qualified cannoneer to be trained. With each ship having more than ten cannons, the cost of training cannoneers alone was enough to make their heads hurt. In the end, they decided to keep their old cannons.

That was all Blancarte commented on before the handover ceremony was concluded. The trained naval officers of the kingdom took over those six ships and flew the flag of Aueras bearing the mark of the Stellin royal family and the flag of their navy, officially marking the transfer of ownership. The crowd on shore cheered and waved the little flags and handkerchiefs in their hands at the ships.

"Lord Militant, let's get on the carriage. I'll take you somewhere," Blancarte said, waving Claude towards his carriage.

Claude entered the carriage and Fachselin got to the driver's seat beside the coachman. Gum and his band of mounted guards rode beside the carriage on both flanks.

The carriage rumbled across the cobblestone ground. Claude enjoyed the view through the windows. Unlike the rubble back then, he saw a rebuilt Whitestag. Those little wooden structures he saw back then were replaced with two to three rows of newly built buildings and shops. They were clean and beautiful, reminiscent of Whitestag's old facade.

"Do you want a cup of wine?" Blancarte offered as he pulled out a bottle and two silver cups.

"Thanks, but I'm not thirsty. Where are we going?"

"Your house. His Majesty had it built for you and sent three famous architects to work on it over a year. Construction just wrapped up before you came back. It really is a wonderful coincidence."

"My house?" Claude sounded rather surprised.

The first thing that occurred to him was the familiar red-bricked mansion. However, wasn't it destroyed during the civil war? Claude recalled coming to Whitestag to clean Morssen's grave a few years back and the building was no longer standing by then. The bombardments during the civil war felled the building and most of its materials were used to build temporary shelters by the refugees.

Claude had wanted to rebuild it, but Whitestag was in ruins back then and manpower was in short supply. They couldn't even find qualified builders. So, he gave up on the notion and returned to the region.

Right now, he was reminded by Svenson's report to him. During the 9th month two years back, Kefnie and Madam Ferd returned to Whitestag and sued Queen Christie to reclaim the part of the woodlands of the Ferds that was absorbed into the queen's estate of Normanley Wood. In the end, Fredrey I himself showed up and offered them a mansion in the royal capital as well as a manor in the outskirts of the royal capital in exchange for the rights to the absorbed land, resolving the matter out of court.

Claude rubbed his temples and found that there were too many things he hadn't dealt with to the point he had forgotten that Svenson didn't bring up the red-bricked mansion at all. All he recalled was that his father was posthumously given an honorary viscount Title by the king, which touched his mother greatly and caused her to move to the royal capital with Kefnie and his two children.

Claude slapped his forehead again. The latest news concerning his mother and wife came two months ago. Apparently, they had fought and separated for some reason. His mother now lived in the mansion whereas Kefnie moved to the manor in the outskirts. Svenson, Kester, the guards and the old servants followed Kefnie to the manor, leaving Madam Ferd alone to her own devices.

Having been troubled with so many matters in the region, Claude didn't really bother with that report. All he seemed to know was the conflict seemed to stem from the 30 percent of shares from the tobacco factory. It seemed like his mother was spending too much and wanted Kefnie to transfer those shares to her, which Kefnie refused. In the end, they fought and split on bad terms.

"You should go to the royal capital for a visit," Blancarte said, reading Claude's mind, "The fight between your mother and wife seemed rather serious. It's a hot topic in the royal capital now. You know the city folk and their penchant for gossip. Had it not been for His Majesty interfering, your wife and children might've been chased out of the manor by your mother."

"Huh?" Claude felt a headache welling up. "Why did they fight, in front of the king no less?"

"As prime minister, it is not my place to gossip about the family matters of nobles," Blancarte said in a serious tone, "Just send someone to the royal capital and you'll find out. Oh, you have an elder brother, right? He returned to your mother..."

Arbeit? He had been gone for who knows how long, so where did he pop up from? Claude was under the impression that his useless elder brother had died. Back when his father committed suicide, that fellow got a prostitute to hand him a signed statement that proved his giving up on the family inheritance before vanishing without a trace. His mother brought him up from time to time in tears when she was still living in the region, not knowing whether he was alive or not.

Basically, Claude and his siblings didn't miss him at all and treated him as if he were dead. Arbeit was far from the model elder brother to them and saw his siblings as pains in the arse who would fight him for their father's inheritance. Yet, when something befell their father, he scooted and never returned home since. And when their father committed suicide, he disappeared from Whitestag altogether.

The carriage stopped and Fachselin opened the carriage door. Claude stopped the troubling thoughts in his head and disembarked, the grand mansion immediately catching his eye.

They were at the original site of the red-bricked mansion. However, it looked completely different, being much larger than before. It almost seemed like a palace building. It had four storeys and five towers stretching tall, along with a grand, white facade supported by a row of white pillars and more than ten balconies. There was a garage in front of the main entrance and a fountain built in the middle of the courtyard. Neatly trimmed patches of grass dotted the courtyard.

It was so huge that it seemed to have taken the land of other neighbouring buildings from back then. Claude looked at the blocky grass patches and tried to recall how the whole street looked like back then.

"Look, isn't it quite similar to how it looked back then?" Blancarte said, "Naturally, we couldn't completely recreate your home, but we did our best to restore what we could so that you'll be reminded of your childhood here."

Claude smiled awkwardly. "I am really grateful for His Majesty's thoughtful gift and your efforts, Prime Minister. However, my old house is built with Hogg-style architecture and doesn't look like a palace at all. My father was but a small bureaucrat in this town back then. Do you think he could've owned such a grand mansion?"

"It can't be... But when our engineers showed your mother the design, she said it looked exactly like that, just a little older..."

"My mother said that?" It immediately clicked in his head. She must've thought that the old mansion was too unbefitting of their current status, so she claimed that it actually looked like the palace instead, not knowing that this insecurity only made it far more laughable.

"Let's go in and take a look," Blancarte offered.

The mansion was indeed beautiful, even more so than the white mansion in Normanley Wood. The hall on the ground floor was wide enough to hold a ball for a hundred guests. The first floor was where the guest rooms were, and the second and third floors were the main residential quarters. The fourth floor, on the other hand, was double the size of the attic Claude used to live in and even equipped with its own bathrooms.

Blancarte said that it took four servants, one gardener, one coachman and two cooks to maintain the mansion, which cost six crowns each month. However, since the butler of the mansion sent the bill to his mother in the royal capital, they hadn't received any reply. The workers of the mansion hadn't been paid in two months.

As the mansion was built by the king's men, the local administration could only pay the bare minimum to maintain the mansion and keep the workers fed. Someone still had to be sent to negotiate the matter of the salary with Claude's mother. After all, such a beautiful mansion would no doubt fall into disrepair with no proper maintenance, and that would be a slight to the king's reputation.

Claude had no choice but to bear the burden. He summoned the butler and told him he would set up an account in the local branch of the overseas bank and deposit 100 crowns there monthly as the salaries and bonuses of the workers. The extra money was to be used to maintain the mansion, and they ought to report to him if they needed more budget for certain reasons. As long as the accounts were clear, there would be no issue.

He then paid them three months' worth of salary and arranged for his subordinates to live in the mansion. Overjoyed, the butler and the other servants gave them the finest treatment. After Claude and Blancarte had a decent meal, they went to the study on the second floor. Fachselin opened two bottles of fine wine for them before leaving the room.

Claude lit a cigar and got straight to the point. "So, I believe that the prime minister of the kingdom wouldn't come all the way to Whitestag to welcome me and be my house guide, nor just inform me about my mother and wife in the royal capital. Give it to me straight. You know I hate going in circles or guessing games."

Blancarte toyed with the cigar Claude tossed him. "Alright. I heard you're here to deal with Shiks. Is that true?"

Darn it... Claude really wanted to curse out loud. The kingdom actually managed to get word of it before he even arrived and sent someone to meet him. Someone in the military administration must've leaked the news. Claude had only told the high-ranking officials of his plan and explained why they had to deal with Shiks. The meeting was classified and nobody beneath the rank of general was allowed to participate.

It was clear that some of the newly promoted generals were loyalists of the kingdom like Bolonik who obeyed their every command. Soon after their meeting concluded, the kingdom got word of it. He even suspected that their whole meeting transcript had been sent there.

He took a deep breath and said, "What? You suspect I'm trying to trick you? Don't worry. I don't intend to deal with the royal capital. I don't have that much ambition and I don't want to be a traitor either. I really did come back to deal with Shiks. It's their fault for not ending the war. The forces of the region are perfectly in their right to attack them."

"We're just curious, not suspicious of you. The ministry of the army's strategists conducted some sand table simulations and believe that there are only two ways you can attack Shiks: by sea or by land. Given that there are two nations separating our land from Shiks', the land route doesn't seem viable. So, the only possibility would be for you to send your troops by sea. They believe you'll send Thundercrash to the Shiksan mainland, but it would be suicide to send one corps alone. That's why His Majesty sent me to advise you to not be so rash."

Claude smiled. "I know full well what I intend to do. In fact, I'm confident about my chances. However, there are still some details I have to refine first. I won't send troops to attack Shiks immediately."

Chapter 555 - Worrying Household Matters

Claude knew he was a person of interest to the Stellin royal family. He might even be tagged as someone with questionable loyalties and considered a threat. The kingdom's strategists had run simulations and the results showed it was far from ideal to attack Shiks. Therefore, Claude coming to the mainland to reorganise Thundercrash for an attack on Shiks was merely a front for something else.

Blancarte came all the way to Whitestag to meet him to try to figure out his motives. Even after a whole evening of chatting with Claude and hearing his reasons for wanting to attack Shiks, however, he was yet unconvinced of the man's sincerity. That was not surprising. Nobody believed Claude stood a chance against Shiks with just Thundercrash.

Claude decided to stay in Whitestag for a few days. He wanted to buy a manor, preferably on an estate of at least 500 acres, and a woodland, at least 1600 acres, nearby. He wanted to have a Claude Manor and a Claude Wood. Back in his early days on Freia, the land south of Whitestag had been entirely farms and orchards. He'd often gone there with his friends to trap for pocket money.

The farmlands and orchards were the first to burn when the civil war came knocking, however, and now the land was abandoned and being rapidly reclaimed by nature.

Claude had initially gone there to reminisce on his childhood, but he decided to buy the land once he saw it was all abandoned. He wished to have a place to which to return once his career was over. As for the palace, Claude was merely taking care of it temporarily. He didn't want to have to fight his mother over it.

Blancarte accompanied Claude for two days. When he saw Claude was dealing with private affairs, he left, relieved. He was a busy man, and he noted that Claude wasn't even remotely interested in going to the royal capital to check on his wife and mother, and he appeared even less interested in plots and schemes.

Blancarte began to feel he and the king were paying far too much attention to this Lord Militant. While Claude was the commander-in-chief of the autonomous region, someone which the royal family and court had to be vigilant of, he didn't show any hostility or ambition. Instead, he seemed to be content with the current relationship of the kingdom and the autonomous region. If he wasn't provoked, he wouldn't pose any threat to the kingdom's safety.

Afternoon on the fourth day, Svenson rushed back to Whitestag from the royal capital and made a detailed report to Claude. The latter finally understood the reason behind his mother and wife's fight that became the top gossip topic of the noble ladies. Their fight even made its way to the king himself!

Two years earlier, during the latter half of that year when Kefnie and Madam Ferd had left for the royal capital, the king had kept his promise and given them a manor and mansion belonging to the royal family. They had started their lives in the new mansion in the royal capital. Naturally, they loved the busy atmosphere of the capital and its shopping streets, going to grab a good deal or haggle for a bargain often.

The two rather enjoyed their time there, often thinking how much better than the region the royal capital was. But half a year later, their network grew and they eventually found out about their reputation as country bumpkins among the other nobles. After all, no noblewoman would personally go shopping and haggling. Nobles of the royal capital only bought the most expensive and best goods. Apart from shopping for clothes and jewellery personally, they usually had their servants deal with day-to-day shopping.

Hearing some kind-hearted noblewoman neighbour tell them what most others thought of them was a huge blow to Madam Ferd. She had begun using the Title of viscountess for herself thanks to Morssen's posthumous viscount Title, but now, it seemed her and Kefnie's actions were bringing shame to Morssen and the Ferd household name. So, she decided to change and get the nobles of the royal capital to embrace them as one of their own.

She hired tutors for noble etiquette as well as butlers and servants fit for a proper noble. Old servants that came with them from the region like Svenson were either sent to the manor in the outskirts or retrained by high-class servants hired for a huge sum. They tried their best to achieve the high standards of capital nobles. Svenson and the other servants endured quite a bit of hardship throughout that time.

In time, Madam Ferd held a ball in her mansion and invited the capital nobles with the aim of spreading House Ferd's reputation. However, she had been too optimistic. Her viscountess Title didn't catch any attention among the nobles at all, and nobles of high status wouldn't accept their invitation nor let their children attend either.

The nobles that came were only there for a free meal. These folks were quite incompetent, save for their ability to flatter and make Madam Ferd happy. Eventually, Ferd Mansion became a place for those honorary nobles to eat and party for free. Madam Ferd once more became the laughingstock of the capital and was known as the clueless viscountess.

By then, Kefnie could no longer take it. Claude was a hereditary count of the kingdom, so she bore the countess Title by affiliation. However, she was still in a fight with Claude and refused to use that Title, so she wanted to keep a low profile. She hated the freeloading guests in their mansion with a passion, but she had no choice but to endure it all when she saw how happy it made her mother-in-law.

Meanwhile, all Madam Ferd boasted about to her guests was Morssen's deeds and his eventual unfortunate demise, which caused him to be posthumously created a noble by the current king.

As a result, those nobles had no clue about her and Kefnie's relationship with Claude. A few honorary nobles even tried to court Kefnie for her body and wealth.

However, Kefnie didn't care to pay them any heed, eventually causing a few drunken nobles to try to force themselves on her. For all they knew, there wasn't much a daughter-in-law of a viscount like that could do against honorary nobles like them anyway.

Little did they know they would end up beaten up by guards that popped out of nowhere and escorted at musketpoint to the noble court for harassing a noble of higher status. They had their honorary Titles stripped from them and were sent to the labour camps.

That incident scared the other freeloaders away. It was only then when they found out about someone of such high status hiding behind the clueless viscount. Those that remained finally began acting respectfully when Kefnie was there, causing the mansion to quiet down somewhat.

However, Madam Ferd became rather disappointed. She was unhappy that Kefnie's Title of countess oppressed her viscountess Title. Thus, she scolded Kefnie and told her that she shouldn't have used the Title she got from Claude to oppress the other honorary nobles. Now, most people no longer came to the mansion to talk to her.

Usually, Kefnie would merely endure her mother-in-law's nagging and let it pass. Claude knew that part of her well and found it to be a decent personality trait to have. Not to mention, the years of living together with her mother-in-law did develop their relationship somewhat. However, Madam Ferd's personality grew ever more stubborn along with her age. Nowadays, she insisted on having everything her way and would never stop causing chaos until she got what she wanted.

Even when Kefnie advised her to stop hosting those honorary nobles, Madam Ferd didn't listen and insisted she was doing the household good by spreading its good name. Even if their guests were honorary nobles, they were still folks whom Morssen wouldn't be able to approach back when he was alive. Their patronage was an honour for House Ferd.

Around that time, Madam Ferd ran out of money. Usually, honorary nobles received annuity from the kingdom. For instance, honorary barons received a hundred crowns, honorary viscounts two hundred, and so on until the end of their lifetimes. As Morssen's Title was posthumously given, Madam Ferd could enjoy the benefits that came with it until the end of her lifetime.

If she lived a normal, savvy life, two hundred crowns would be more than enough to sustain her each year. However, her public relations efforts and hiring of high-class noble servants and luxurious purchases of daily necessities fitting of nobles and jewellery piled up to quite a huge amount. The salary of the servants alone cost more than 20 crowns each month, and all other costs had to be paid for from Madam Ferd's own savings.

She had saved the spending money she got from Claude and Angelina when she was in the region, as well as Bloweyk's bonuses before he ran away from home. All in all, she had some two thousand crowns. However, life in the royal capital meant higher standards of living. The prices of goods there were much higher than the region's. Not to mention, her grand banquets and balls to host the freeloading nobles eventually emptied her savings before four months even passed.

That was when she recalled Kefnie had three-tenths of the tobacco company's shares. It was quite a substantial amount of wealth, with each fiscal quarter generating nearly ten thousand crowns of dividends. If she had that wealth, she would no longer have to worry about not having enough to host those honorary nobles. So, she demanded to take ownership of those shares as the current head of the Ferd household.

Naturally, Kefnie was no fool and refused. She knew Claude gave her those dividends for her and her three children. She was Claude's rightful wife, and he had said that money was for her to run the household. During their time in Lanu, she was the female head of the household and paid for the daily costs using the dividends she got.

But in the royal capital, the mansion they lived in was given to Madam Ferd in Morssen's name, so Madam Ferd was now head of the household. As such, Kefnie had no right to stop what she wanted to do, so long as she took care of costs herself.

Even so, she still paid for the servants and guards that came with them from the region. Madam Ferd didn't care about any of that, given how calculative she was about the money. Sometimes, Kefnie would also buy the daily necessities they needed.

The reason she was in strife with Claude was how he tossed their eldest son Tesoray in the forces without any concern at all, foiling her plans to make him the new head of the Ferd household. She was also worried about the fate of her son. It was all too easy to end up as cannon fodder in the army as a soldier nowadays.

Kefnie, on the other hand, turned more selfish since her fight with Claude. For the sake of the position of the head of the household, she didn't even care for her relatives and refused to adopt Bloweyk's twins. With the arrival of Sheila, his first true love, Claude also drifted apart from the old and boring Kefnie.

But no matter what, Kefnie was still his proper wife and officially recognised to be the countess. She loathed her mother-in-law for criticising Claude for being unfilial while demanding her to hand over the shares. It was two completely different matters. Not to mention, those shares came from Claude's efforts alone and he gave them to her for her personal use. What did it have to do with the Ferd household?

Fuming, Madam Ferd got into a huge fight with Kefnie, calling her lowly and unfit to be the wife of a Ferd. Kefnie then stormed off to the manor in the outskirts with her children.

With her gone, Madam Ferd was doomed. She had no money left. Forget hosting the honorary nobles, she couldn't even pay the salaries of the high-class servants. The servants thus left with whatever valuables they could find in the house and left the butler and a poor, homeless kitchen lass in the mansion. Madam Ferd soon fell sick. In her sickbed, she bemoaned her unfilial son and daughter-in-law.

Thankfully, the butler didn't forsake his duty and went to the manor to look for Kefnie. When she heard about her mother-in-law falling sick, she decided to go back to ensure nothing worse happened to her, only to be angered by her incessant nagging. Kefnie immediately turned to leave, not wanting to see her for one moment more. She was Claude's mother, at the end of the day. Kefnie gave the butler some money to make sure he took care of Madam Ferd.

Had it gone on just like that, it would've been fine. Madam Ferd had no more money to waste anyway and all she could do was complain about Kefnie in the mansion. Yet, a month later, Arbeit came to visit. Overjoyed, Madam Ferd jumped out of bed and hugged him, calling him the hope of House Ferd.

It was said that Arbeit left Whitestag and travelled Freia. He experienced much hardship and visited many scholars on his journey, accompanied them, and learned quite a lot. He was now a playwright of certain fame. After two decades of travelling, he began to miss his family and decided to return to the kingdom. Little did he know that he would hear about his mother when he reached the royal capital, so he decided to visit her.

Madam Ferd was all too happy to hear his story, thinking that her eldest son had finally become someone worthy to become House Ferd's new head. She had already set her mind on it. Though she wanted to throw him a celebration, Arbeit was just as broke as she was, having emptied his pockets on his journey back.

In the end, Arbeit decided to borrow money from Kefnie. He went to the manor to ask to borrow a thousand crowns. Kefnie recognised him, given that they had met a few times in Whitestag a long time ago. However, she didn't have a good impression of him. While Arbeit tried his best to convince her, she only gave him ten crowns, refusing to lend him a thousand.

Pissed, Arbeit returned to complain to his mother, accusing Kefnie of monopolising House Ferd's assets. After all, the manor at the outskirts was given in exchange for the land in Whitestag they traded to the royal family. They could earn an income of up to 300 crowns yearly from the manor's yield, and Kefnie's occupation of the manor was an infringement on House Ferd's assets.

In the history of Aueras, no noble family would go to court over an internal fight for assets. Yet, House Ferd would be the first to set the precedent. It was the first time ever a mother-in-law would be suing her daughter-in-law to court, and it was all the more attention grabbing with the both of them being noblewomen. Overnight, the newspapers and tabloids of the kingdom went wild with the court case. Had it not been for Blancarte taking note of the situation, the publications might even drag Claude's name through the mud.

In the end, the king was the one to preside over the case as judge. During the trial, Kefnie provided evidence of the deed of the woodland in Whitestag, which was signed under Claude's name. When Claude and Angelina bought the woodland for the household, the head of the household back then was Bloweyk, who was still not an adult. So, Angelina was the temporary holder of that property. Later, the purchase of public woodland required Claude's status as captain and knighthood holder, so ownership of the woodland was transferred to Claude in full.

When Bloweyk matured, Claude gave him the deed of the land. That way, he could transfer it under his name when he was in Whitestag. However, Bloweyk didn't care much for it and put the deed in Kefnie's care. In the end, no transfer of ownership was made and the land still belonged to Claude, not House Ferd.

Arbeit and his mother were completely stumped and didn't think that would be the outcome. If the woodland had belonged to Claude, the manor they were given in exchange for the woodland would be Claude's as well. So, Kefnie was fully in the right to live there as Claude's wife, and Madam Ferd ended up losing the case.

Kefnie also completely turned against her mother-in-law after that trial. She no longer cared about the matters of the mansion. All House Ferd had now was the two mansions, one in the royal capital and the other in Whitestag. As she had no money, the servants of the Whitestag mansion were still owed their salaries.

Madam Ferd deserved all that had come to her. Had she properly rebuilt the mansion in Whitestag into an apartment complex like it was before, she would at least have ten crowns of income yearly. Yet, she constructed a grand mansion for vain reputation instead, so now she couldn't even pay her servants' salaries. She didn't dare to sell it either, as the king was the one who had commissioned it for them. So, she decided to pretend she didn't receive the notice of the mansion's completion.

Chapter 556 - Clueless Mother

Claude's face remained dark and gloomy as he listened to Svenson report on his mother and wife's scandal in the royal capital. Claude didn't know what to say when Svenson finished. His mother was quite old already, nearing her 70th birthday, so she was a senior citizen by this world's standards. Yet, she was being as unreasonable and stubborn as a child. She was the kind of big baby who expected everyone to fulfil her selfish demands.

The problem was his mother's former status as a normal housewife, which made her vulnerable to losing her head in the clouds once she finally got a chance to stand in the spotlight. Even now, she wasn't aware of how she was seen in the noble circles in the capital. Claude really didn't know how he should deal with her. Anyone in the know understood why the king was treating her so well, yet she didn't know. She thought it was only natural.

She had never experienced much hardship. She was the daughter of a local bureaucrat and had stayed home doing housework after just three years of primary education. Later, her father wedded her to Morssen. Her life after her marriage was easygoing and without trouble, as that was when Morssen advanced through his career like a breeze. She was the target of envy of many a neighbour or peddler in town.

While the greatest shock of her life was her husband's suicide, which made her fall ill with grief, Claude dealt with everything. So, she didn't have to do much at home. Even after Claude's enlistment into the military, Angelina was there to hold the fort without letting her mother experience much pressure at all.

Once Claude returned as a successful captain, the household finally seemed like it was faring much better. Her children's magnificence eventually washed the grief of losing her husband away. Her mind and spirit finally recovered along with her body and she once more became a target of envy. Then came Claude and Kefnie's marriage. Kefnie took care of most of the chores at home after the marriage and gave birth to Tesoray, allowing Madam Ferd to enjoy the life of a posh grandmother.

If nothing else had changed, Madam Ferd would definitely remain blissful for the rest of her life. Yet, Claude was sent to the region, and with him, the whole family moved. Thanks to Claude's high status in the region, his family also enjoyed much preferential treatment. Kefnie and his mother were surrounded by local bigwigs and rich merchants who wanted to curry favour with Claude and became the centre of attention.

Madam Ferd was a normal woman who loved to gossip with others in the first place. Her mingling and socialising with the womenfolk in the higher circles of the region caused her to lose herself. She began to think Claude's achievements were thanks to his magnificent upbringing on her part. Soon, she began to act more and more like a snobby noblewoman.

As she slowly came to believe her delusions of grandeur to be real, she turned more and more stubborn. She had forgotten who or what to thank for her current lifestyle, thinking instead that it could all be attributed to Morssen's blessings from the kingdom of the war god. So, she began interfering with her children's futures.

She was, after all, their mother. Claude, Angelina and Bloweyk were also usually rather tolerant of her antics. However, none of them actually bothered to follow her plans for them. Despite often nagging Bloweyk to retire and get an honourable discharge from the military to take over as the head of House Ferd, Bloweyk ignored her. In the end, she decided to use her final trump card: marriage. That was sure to get him to settle down in body and spirit.

Yet, Bloweyk's love life eventually turned into a tragedy thanks to her meddling, causing him to disown the Ferd name in rage and leave the household, once more foiling his mother's plans to use his marriage to prop House Ferd to new heights. Her shame fueled her anger and caused her to blame Claude for being a bad example for Bloweyk and not teaching him well. She then turned her attention to nurturing Tesoray as the next head of House Ferd.

What she didn't know, however, was that a true noble heir wasn't born from excessive care and spoiling without the slightest bit of hardship. She wasn't someone with that much knowledge of such complicated matters, however, and spoiling her grandson was the only way she knew how to care for him. In the end, Tesoray ended up learning all the bad habits of nobles without picking up on any of their good qualities.

Yet, Madam Ferd naively thought Tesoray was the ideal heir for Claude and set her sights on Claude's fief. She had wanted him to let Tesoray run the fief, only for Claude to give her a rude wake-up call. Not only did he refuse, he even insisted on sending his son into the force for him to grow and be reforged despite his wife and mother's objections.

That was the final straw that caused his relationship with them to collapse. They left the autonomous region for Whitestag and immediately caused a scandal for the matter of the woodland. It was ironic, in a way, that Madam Ferd was the one who brought the most shame to the Ferd name despite being the one that cared the most for it. Claude believed that if Morssen somehow heard about what had happened, he would be rolling in his grave.

His wife, Kefnie, was also quite the troublesome character. No matter what, he was still married to her for decades and had two sons and one daughter with her, so he did feel quite strongly for her as her husband. However, Kefnie also got infected by the Ferd-honour virus as his mother had and naively believed her mother-in-law's words about raising a noble descendant. She focused all her efforts on making sure Tesoray got the best noble education, but she knew deep down that her son still didn't catch his father's attention one bit.

Claude didn't understand how the pure and honest Kefnie became so selfish. He was quite angry at her cold demeanour and refusal to adopt Bloweyk's twins after the tragic incident. But now, he finally understood she had been quite scheming from the start.

Other things aside, Claude didn't know about the matter of the deed for the woodland. When he handed it to Bloweyk back then to have him transfer it to become House Ferd's property, Bloweyk didn't care for it and put the deed in Kefnie's care instead.

She should have consulted Claude about what to do with it, but she just kept the deed secretly. Even Claude's mother didn't know the wood hadn't been actually put under the family name. They only found out what had happened when the court case came up and Kefnie slapped her mother-in-law across the face with the deed.

They were all schemers. Claude didn't even know what he should think about the court case between his mother and wife. His mother was sick in the head and there was no cure he could offer her. He knew he would be scolded if he tried to interfere. He knew she would demand money from him if he met her again, and she would never be happy with what she got. And if he dared give her nothing, she'd curse him as an unfilial bastard. Best to just stay away and out of it all.

As for Kefnie, winning the court case meant his mother would lose face, and losing it meant she and her two children would be chased out of the manor and become homeless. Even though there was no need to worry, with Svenson by their side, Claude wasn't willing to see his wife and children evicted.

"How is my mother doing?" Claude asked.

Svenson answered after a healthy dose of hesitation.

"We have nobody at the Old Madam's side. But her current butler told me she is busy trying to transfer the honorary Title to your elder brother and to take out a loan for the Title upgrade and land-picking fee so your elder brother can become a hereditary noble."

"Is she out of her mind? Her honorary viscountess Title is given by her relation to my late father after his posthumous entitlement. How can it be transferred?"

"Yes. The royal court has refused her request. She's the laughing stock of the capital nobility. Some nobles and ministers are questioning the king's decision to give her a Title. A few are even calling for it to be revoked. They think she is a disgrace to all nobles. I heard Prime Minister Blancarte has kept it silent."

Claude sighed in relief. Blancarte was quite sensible. He knew that no matter how foolish his mother could be, she was still his mother. No matter how sour their relationship, their bonds wouldn't change. Claude wasn't the one at fault. His mother was just too much of an ignoramus. Even so, Claude would not stand her being treated as a fool.

"What about the matter of Arbeit's fief?"

"That passed. The one that offered the loan initially said the Old Madam was a little too old and was worried that any loan offered in her name would be void if anything happened to her, with the heir taking all the money without taking the hereditary Title. So he put in a special condition that applies to loan applicants above a certain age.

"For instance, the queen's lenders have a stipulation for some older, unhealthy nobles that the applicant and their appointed heir are jointly responsible for the loan. If anything happens to the applicant, the heir inherits the Title and loan.

"Additionally, the applicant and heir can't get a single crown directly. All the money is paid to the royal treasury in their name. The applicant and heir's signatures are also required for a loan like that."

Darn it, to think the queen had actually streamlined her loans...

"Do you know where the fief is?"

Svenson shook his head.

"I don't. I left the capital immediately after reading your letter. I didn't meet up with the Old Madam's new butler before leaving. I don't know where they are now."

Claude waved it off. If his mother really had a fief for his brother, it wouldn't be hard to find out where it was.

"Have you seen Arbeit?"

Svenson nodded.

"A few times. I think four. The last time I saw him, I was out shopping. He pretended to run into me and insisted on getting me a drink. He then asked me about you and Madam Kefnie as well as life in the region. I felt something was off and brushed him off. I told Madam about it when I got back."

"You did the right thing," Claude said, quite satisfied, "What impression did he give you?"

"I don't know how I should put this... But I can be certain he's lying about being a playwright. There's no way he's a writer. His body and fingers don't look like a studied person's. His behaviour and speech don't seem particularly scholarly either.

"I know a few newspaper editors in the capital. Their hands are all calloused, but Arbeit doesn't have a single blister on his hands. His skin is smooth and he doesn't act like a writer. I suspect he's lying about travelling Freia for the last twenty years and learning from scholars all over the place."

"Of whom does he remind you?"

Svenson agonised over the thought with an intense frown.

"Forgive me... But he reminds me of a scammer or fraud. His behaviour is not too unlike that of merchants who sell fake wares in the market. All his words sound too good to be true and one will only find out about the falsehoods once one goes home with the goods in hand."

Claude cracked a smile. He didn't think Svenson would have that kind of impression of his opportunistic brother. It seemed that Arbeit had had some rather interesting experiences in the past two decades. Claude reckoned he should send someone to investigate him properly. Though, there was no need to rush it. He only hoped Arbeit could put a lid on his mother's antics. He was fine letting Arbeit take over as the head of House Ferd. After all, Bloweyk didn't care about the position anyway.

"How's Kefnie doing, then?" Claude finally turned his concern to his wife.

"She's living with a real low profile and doesn't leave the manor often. She spends most of her time taking care of Miss Amelisa. Thanks to the court case, some noblewomen visit her for tea from time to time."

"Has she never thought of returning to the region?"

Svenson shook his head. "Master, I doubt Madam, the young master and young mistress will be returning in the coming few years. They will be living in the manor near the outskirts of the royal capital. Nowadays, Young Master Beuergarcy just took a scholar from the royal capital to be his teacher."

Claude's gaze narrowed. "Did Kefnie pick the scholar for him or did someone else recommend it?"

Svenson smiled. "Neither. Young Master picked the scholar himself. Master, you should know how much he loves to read in silence and solitude. When they were still living with the Old Madam in the mansion in the capital, he loved to go shopping for books with some servants. Sometimes, he would spend the whole day reading in the book handler's.

"This scholar is a history professor of the royal liberal arts academy. Once, he got into an argument with him over a historic chronicle. Young Master said there are some wrong viewpoints or records in the chronicle the author made up. As the author is a friend of the scholar, he accused Young Master for falsely accusing him.

"Little did he know that Young Master's memory would be that sharp. He immediately named a few books and quoted their contents to make his point. The scholar looked for the quotations he mentioned and found that he was right. His author friend was indeed too lazy to do any real literature review and made up much of the stuff he wrote, only to be discovered by Young Master Beuergarcy.

"Since then, the scholar grew to have a good impression on him and often came to chat with him. Once, he took Young Master home and told Madam that he liked him a lot and wanted to take him as his student. Once Young Master came of age, he would have him study in the academy. Madam was overjoyed to hear it and agreed to the scholar's request. By the way, the scholar's name is Delomenk Lang Falesk. He's quite a famous historian and archaeologist in the royal capital."

Sometimes, a flower cared for would not bloom, whereas a flower left in the wild prospered. Of Claude's two sons, his mother and wife paid the most attention to the elder Tesoray and spoiled him. Beuergarcy, however, had never been much to Madam Ferd and Kefnie's liking. He was a little too cold and didn't like to spend time with adults. He didn't bother to butter up his mother and grandmother like his elder brother did either, choosing often to observe coldly from the side.

When he grew up and learned to read, he fell in love with reading. He would consume all sorts of books regardless of genre. Sometimes, he would hold a book and read nonstop the whole day. Angelina had once tested his affinity for magic, but it was a shame he didn't make the cut. She had told Claude that Beuergarcy would make a great magus had he had enough talent, given his quiet personality and penchant for solitude.

Tesoray was given the most care by his grandmother and mother, only to end up spoiled and almost unsalvageable. His second son, on the other hand, didn't catch their attention and grew into a talented young man without them noticing. It was almost insulting to think about. Claude wondered what Kefnie and his mother would think about it.

He laughed and said, "Svenson, I got a manor and woodland here lately. After helping me find a suitable manager, go back to the royal capital and give Kefnie the deeds to this woodland and manor. Tell her that this is our family's property and ask her to handle them with care. I will be going to Northbay the next day, so I'll leave matters here to you."

Chapter 557 - Avitelli I of Bleyotte

It was the 28th of the 2nd month, Year 604. Claude was aboard the Saint Hughslind which had just arrived at Port Northbay near the Great Plains of Canas. Skri and Eiblont were waiting for him. The two embraced Claude before he'd even stepped off the gantry.

A military council was held in Northbay's capital, Canpast, the next day. Claude announced Thundercrash's reorganisation. It would be made smaller, its personnel decreased from 150 thousand to 90 thousand and it would be split into four folks. The surplus staff left after the eldest were honourably discharged into retirement would be transferred to the Askilinian and Rimodran territories, where they would merge with the eight garrison lines to form Typhoon corps.

Typhoon would be the third corps to enter service under the autonomous region's military administration. Their main mission was to secure the fiefs on Freian soil near Northbay. They were a light-cavalry corps formed to target the local nomadic tribes. New members in the future would also be sourced from the local herder population.

Claude had planned to let Monolith defend the region and leave the Great Plains of Canas to Typhoon. Thundercrash, on the other hand, was the region's mobile fighting force and had to be ready to deploy at any moment on offensives against the enemy. As such, the region needed another standing corps to defend key areas.

Dyavid was to become the reformed Thundercrash's corpsman, whereas Berklin would take the role of chief of staff. Eiblont, on the other hand, would be in charge of forming Typhoon and managing the defence of the Great Plains of Canas and the Askilinian and Rimodran regions.

All those tasks had to be completed within four months, during which the eight homecoming Shiksan folks would be transferred to Northbay. Upon their arrival, Claude would formally launch his campaign to give Shiks a proper defeat.

The officers that were assigned their tasks left the meeting room. Claude, Skri and Eiblont then went to get dinner together. When Eiblont left after he had quite a few cups, Claude and Skri breathed a sigh of relief. They headed to Skri's residence and had another secret talk in his study.

"Are you sure that is the king himself?" Claude asked.

"Yes. I've tracked his movements before. When he secretly reached Northbay to meet with me, he is reported to have gone hunting in the royal manor in his kingdom. It is normal for him to go on extended hunting trips this time of year, as he doesn't like to mingle with other nobles. He tells his ministers he wouldn't have any free time for himself other than this season."

Claude cracked a smile. "This is not our usual flavour of kings."

Skri shook his head. "Not just that. He has a razor-sharp wit. I suspect he uses the excuse of going hunting in the royal manor every year to get his ministers off his tail and go survey his kingdom in disguise. That's why his kingdom has been developing rather well. While they are Shiks' vassal nation, they are actually the most powerful and have Shiks wary of them. To Shiks, the Kingdom of Bleyotte is a vassal nation they had never truly subjugated."

Claude looked at the open map of Bleyotte, a nation covered with mountains with only a third of its area being flat land. Bleyotteans were known for their hardiness and courage. In the past two centuries, they went to war with Shiks seven times and won only twice. However, Shiks had never been able to wipe them out properly.

Even five decades ago when the Bleyottean king, Mankdor I, was surrounded by the Shiksan army in the capital, the Bleyotteans still managed to give the Shiksans a good fight lasting up to three years using the mountainous terrain. Eventually, the Shiksans suffered so many casualties they were forced to retreat from the royal capital and take the initiative to sue for peace with the king. However, Mankdor I died not long after the treaty was signed from consuming poisoned wine. Many suspected it to be a Shiksan assassination.

The current king, Avitelli I, was Mankdor I's grandson. His father and three brothers had died in a war with Shiks, the last war the two kingdoms fought in recent time. Defeated, Bleyotte ceded its coastal territories to Shiks, effectively landlocking itself. Since then, it had lost its two port cities and a huge piece of flat land.

When Avitelli I ascended to the throne, he was only half a year old. He was made king as he was the sole survivor of the royal bloodline. It was said that a few nobles of the kingdom provided their own sons to be his body doubles to protect him during his growth and take his place in court. Avitelli I was put in the care of an old hunter's household to mature.

Some ten years before Avitelli I came of age, all the nobles that pretended to be him in court died. However, the nobles did manage to wait until he grew up to return to court and take the crown. It had been 34 years since his proper ascension to the Bleyottean throne.

Bleyotte didn't go to war with Shiks even once during his reign. While the Shiksans' demands of them were quite excessive, even for a vassal nation, the king still managed to find ways to appease them, leaving Shiks no excuse to give Bleyotte any trouble. He was also a wise and far-seeing ruler who endeavoured to get his nobles to lighten the burden on the peasants in their fiefs. Through that, the kingdom's might grew to a point where Shiks had to once more pay attention to them.

Bleyotte ranked at the top of the eleven vassal nations in the Shiksan sphere of influence, earning Avitelli I the reputation of a wise king among his people. However, this king of theirs had an odd habit. Every year during the 7th and 8th months, he would go to live in the old hunter's lodge he had stayed in since childhood with only a handful of servants and spend his time hunting.

Many nobles often tried to dissuade him from continuing that habit, but Avitelli I would not have any of it. He called himself a child of the mountains. He wanted to practice all the skills the old hunter taught him to continue being a king that can truly live up to the expectations of the Bleyotteans.

As such, all Bleyotteans would point to the mountains when asked where their king was during the 7th and 8th months. A sobriquet often attributed to him was 'Hunter King', being a testament to his love for hunting.

At the end of the 7th month last year, Skri had gone to the fiefs to survey the development there. On the way, he was stopped by a middle-aged man that introduced himself to be the Bleyottean king. The man proved his identity with his household crest and golden seal on condition that his presence was kept secret.

Skri immediately invited him into his carriage. On the way back, he had a long talk with the king, who had come to inquire whether the region had any intention of attacking Shiks, seeing as the two sides were still in a state of war.

Avitelli I hoped that Bleyotte could give them a helping hand in that attack. They could mobilise at least four corps, assuming the region was going to support them. During the last war they lost to Shiks, they lost not only their coastal areas but also their industrial prowess. All their weapons and gear were inferior to the Shiskans'.

After Avitelli I left in a hurry, Skri wrote a transcript of their meeting, but he didn't send it out through eagle message in fear of a leak. Instead, he had his adjutant travel with Ironclad to the region to hand Claude the letter personally. Only then did Claude make the decision to attack and exterminate Shiks.

"Now, we can finally send someone to get in touch with him to get him to start preparations. Do you have the item he entrusted you?" Claude asked.

Skri opened his drawer and took out a semicircular, golden arc.

"This is one half of the outer rim of a palm mirror. As long as it lines up with his palm mirror, they'll know it's someone we sent. There are also some code phrases. Basically, it's a haggle, which will end with us buying the mirror from them. If they want to buy our arc from us no matter what, it means something unexpected occurred."

The palm mirror was a popular item nobles and women in general used to tidy up their appearance and put on makeup. It was usually made with a crystal or glass surface. Nobles themselves would usually decorate their mirrors' base and rim with gold, silver and jewels whereas peasant female servants used bronze or bamboo.

Claude looked at the golden arc and noticed that it had been broken off by hand. It seemed Avitelli I didn't have some marker he could give away on hand and had no choice but to break the palm mirror he brought along. The random cracks of the arc would truly be hard to fake.

"Send more informants to check on whether anti-Shiksan sentiment among the populace is heavy. I know you've sent someone to investigate the king and verified that he truly wants to cooperate with us. However, we must always be careful as our troops' lives are on the line," Claude said with his brow furrowed, as if in deep thought.

"You can send your scouts to test them out," Skri said.

Claude shook his head.

"That won't do. Soldiers can easily be spotted even without uniform. The merchant informants, on the other hand, draw less attention. I've ordered Colonel Borkal to rush here next month to take care of correspondence with Avitelli I."

Skri nodded. "Good. Then I'll send someone to meet him first, get his demands, and introduce him to Colonel Borkal."

Skri eventually found out about Borkal and Claude's relationship as childhood playmates. Claude trusted his friend really much, and Borkal's figure didn't resemble that of a standard soldier at all, so he would be the best spy. However, his true genius lay in collecting information, a skill which he used to contribute a lot to the region.

"How are you planning to attack Shiks?" Skri asked, watching Claude stare at the map intently, "It'll be hard to do so by sea without suffering heavy casualties. My informants in Shiks returned to tell me that after Seaking was exterminated by us, they greatly fortified their five port cities. We'd be running straight into a wall of steel even with a combined attack by all ships in Ironclad."

"What wall of steel?" Claude laughed, "The Shiksans might be bluffing. They don't even have a navy now. How can land defences work on our ships? They're nothing more than stationary targets."

"They can only be called targets if our ships can hit them!--" As he said so, he took out a map from a scroll tube and unrolled it. "--This is the defence layout of those port cities our informants drew from memory. The Shiksans might've added more to them.

"The coasts of Northern Freia have always been known to have strong winds and huge waves. Most of the coastal area are muddy swamps and tall cliffs. Shiks' five port cities, for instance, are surrounded by mountainous terrain. It's those tall cliffs that block the ocean breeze that leave part of the waters there calm enough for a port to be built.

"Now, Shiks mobilised a great labour force to build many artillery platforms on the cliffs with a line of sight to the waterway into the port. Our informants managed to spot at least fifty of them. They have absolute superiority, being built on much higher altitude. I've asked Moriad about this and we won't be able to attack the platforms at all as our ship cannons can't shoot nearly that tall.

"And all that is only the first line of defence. The second line of defence is their boogie-trapped waterway. They filled up part of the waterway to decrease its breadth with rocks, timber and sunken ships, leaving only enough space for two ships to enter. Without a guide through the curvy waterway, accidents can easily happen. Even if you remember the route, you'll have to sail really slowly into it. That's when the cannons above can slowly aim and fire.

"The third line of defence is the huge cannons and tall walls and moats built at the docks, isolating the dock area completely. Even if we managed to break through their cannons and waterway to reach shore, our troops will have to break through another layer of defences before being able to find a secure place to rest.

"However, Shiks has eight standing corps now. One corps is stationed near each one of the five port cities. The moment they get word of an attack, they'll immediately come to reinforce the defences. Our ground forces will either be exterminated or chased back into the ocean."

Claude grimaced at the truly impregnable defences. Even the new rifles and the ironclad warships of the region wouldn't be able to fully mitigate the advantages the Shiksan defences offered.

"Actually, I believe Bleyotte won't be of much help to us at all," Skri said, "Even if Avitelli I attacks Shiks with his four corps, he wouldn't be able to divert the Shiksan forces at the coastal area to the eastern border. The three standing corps in the kingdom will be enough to weather the Bleyottean assault, and that's not bringing up the numerous reserve corps they can form and field.

"If we can't dock at any particular port and break through their defences to mount a pincer attack with the Bleyottean forces, this war might end in failure. On the Shiksan mainland, they hold the advantage in supplies and logistics, transportation of troops and recruiting new troops. Even if we occupy one port, we won't have enough manpower to maintain a supply line effectively.

"If we cannot rendezvous with the four Bleyottean corps soon enough, I doubt they'd be able to last long. Shiks will definitely defeat them first and chase them out of their nation before dealing with us. By then, we'd be alone in the fight.

"By the way, I almost forgot about the most troublesome part. Avitelli I asked us to provide military gear aid, or his troops won't have the weapons and supplies to fight. Currently, Bleyotte only has two under-armed standing corps. However, they have no coastal areas for us to transport resources to them. To their north is Shiks and their east, Mambamark. There is simply no way for us to bring them enough military gear."

Chapter 558 - Fate of Mambamark

After the rainy season in the 12th month, the region's transport fleet sent two homecoming Shiksan folks over. They wore the same uniforms as the soldiers of Thundercrash and settled down in a camp that had been set up in advance. The security around the camp was incredibly tight. No locals or merchants were allowed to approach. As far as the public was concerned, the camp housed the reserve forces of the region. The reason they were deployed there was for a large-scale military drill to be carried out on the Great Plains.

They had no choice. The royal capital was far too wary towards Claude's troop movements. Even after Claude told Blancarte he had returned to the mainland to reorganise Thundercrash and take the opportunity to attack Shiks, the royal capital was still partly doubtful. Perhaps due to that, Fredrey I announced the ministry of the army would be forming two standing corps soon.

Borkal followed the two Shiksan folks to Northbay. He kept a low profile and didn't don a military uniform, disguising himself like a travelling merchant looking to hitch a ride on the ship instead. He should've been working on Operation Wildfire at the western coast, but thanks to the heightened security and guard of the western colonies, the natives he got into contact with didn't make huge progress. He had no choice but to stop what he was doing to go to Freia after receiving Claude's order.

Three days later, Borkal took three subordinates, all disguised as travelling merchants from the Southern Freian Duchy of Reliaro, on the way to Shiks by catching a ride on a merchant vessel before heading to Bleyotte. Currently, the route to Bleyotte on land had been cut off thanks to the bandit infestation at the border of Mambamark. Small groups of travelling merchants were the favourite targets of bandits like those, so they travelled by sea to be safe.

Another 20-odd days passed. At the end of the 4th month, Borkal sent a report back that he had gotten in touch with Avitelli I and took on the identity of a court merchant the king deeply trusted. He reported that the bandits causing trouble at Mambamark's border were actually Nasrian and Canasian remnants supported by Shiks.

"You can invite Duke Reddragon and Marquis Griffon here for a banquet." Claude tossed Borkal's report onto Skri's desk. Skri gave it a look and chuckled.

"If they find out that the reason you asked them to come was to declare war against Mambamark, I wonder if they'll regret coming."

Duke Reddragon referred to the Lord Militant of the previous king and true commander of Reddragon and father-in-law to Stellin XI, Duke Ellivenson Siegfeld. Marquis Griffon, on the other hand, was the former corpsman of Griffon and general of the kingdom, Marquis Julius Hou Hadro. The two of them were representatives of the old nobility. Ever since the king gave out fiefs, they came to an agreement with the king to withdraw their household's might from the forces of the kingdom for reparations before returning to their respective fiefs.

"Duke Siegfeld seems to have full control over the prefecture of Glasom. Marquis Hadro isn't much worse off either, having most of Welinkdor. However, those two prefectures are connected to Mambamark at their borders. The prefecture of Bismonk, on the other hand, has a severe bandit problem. Life there is hectic, to say the least.

"Interestingly, Duke Siegfeld and Marquis Hadro both want to take control of the trade routes towards Mambamark and set up their vassal nobles in Bismonk. However, they suffered severe losses from clashes with the bandits. Trade routes aside, they couldn't even protect their own vassals, whose fiefs are often raided and pillaged."

Claude looked at the documents in hand, intel Skri had managed to collect, and began, "Currently, Duke Reddragon formed a garrison line stationed in Bismonk, whereas Marquis Griffon also has two garrison tribes stationed in his vassals' fiefs. However, they are merely setting up defence lines to stop the bandits from entering their towns.

"It's said that the bandits are made up of five to six thousand remnant troops of Nasri and Canas. They form small groups and use shock tactics, constantly beating down the duke and marquis' troops. Once, the duke set up a trap and exterminated some bandits, but as they were pursuing them, they were stopped by Mambamark's garrison forces at the border. They had to watch the bandits slip from them into the forests.

"It's probable for the two nobles to support our declaration of war against Mambamark. After all, they wouldn't have to be our cannon fodder and lead the way for us. All they have to do is to follow behind us and protect our supply routes. They can even recoup some losses they suffered from the bandits. All we want is wealth, but I'm sure they want everything from manpower, supplies, livestock and other things that will strengthen their fiefs."

"While Mambamark is a small nation, it has three standing corps. Are you sure Thundercrash alone can defeat them?" Skri asked solemnly.

"I'm confident," Claude answered casually, "While we have reorganised into smaller folks, we now have four. Our total number of troops is even 1.5 times more than back when we only had two folks. Even if we fight one against two, we'll be able to dominate. Not to mention, Mambamark's three corps are disjointed and weak. They won't be our match.

"The only worry is the backlash we'll get from the capital. That's the real reason I want you to invite the duke and marquis to a banquet for me. I heard they've already requested aid from the royal capital, but all the royal court did was send an ambassador to Mambamark to complain. They didn't achieve any sort of deal. In fact, they even said local, small-scale conflicts with bandits should be resolved by the nobles themselves. If it's not a large problem, the kingdom won't deploy troops.

"I trust we'll be able to come to an agreement with Duke Reddragon and Marquis Griffon. If they want to expand their power, they have nowhere but to extend into Mambamark. We won't ask much of them either. All they have to do is to form an allied noble corps to ensure our supply line. They are free to take advantage of any opportunities they encounter. I trust that they'll agree to those terms. Additionally, they'll have to be the ones to bear the brunt of the pressure from the royal capital. Our troops are merely being hired to deal with the bandits for them."

On the 7th of the 5th month, Year 604, Skri held a banquet to celebrate his 50th birthday and invited many nobles to attend. Duke Reddragon and Marquis Griffon also came to Northbay for the banquet and went into a round of secret talks with Claude, Skri and Eiblont through the night.

On the 21st of the 5th month, bandits using the banner of the Canas-restoration Army raided a village in Bismonk in the Nasrian region, only to fall to an ambush by the local garrison. Unable to overpower their enemies, the bandits mounted a fighting retreat towards the forests of Mambamark. The pursuing garrison didn't relent, but were stopped by Mambamark's border guard.

Such situations usually ended in a shouting match between the two sides before Bismonk's garrison inevitably left empty handed. However, the argument raged more intensely this time around and a firefight ensued, resulting in a few casualties. The next day, Duke Reddragon proclaimed that Mambamark was supporting the bandits that harassed Bismonk and declared war against Mambamark with the allied noble corps he was about to form. Marquis Griffon supported the motion as well.

On the 23rd of the 5th month, Mambamark's king, Mambamark VI, proclaimed that he would accept the declaration of the nobles and even said they would suffer a humiliating defeat should they dare to invade the kingdom. The kingdom rallied its three standing corps at the border, confident it would be able to repel an enemy invasion. Mambamark VI also announced he would send an ambassador to the Aueran capital to make a statement to Fredrey I that he had nothing to do with the bandits and had no intention of going to war with Aueras at all.

As far as the king and ministers of Mambamark were concerned, the duke and marquis' threats were empty. Even if they managed to form a corps, they would have no ability to attack their kingdom. They were only making so much noise to save some face.

That was why they jokingly accepted the declaration of war and sent an ambassador to the royal capital to petition the Aueran king to discipline the obstinate nobles. As long as Aueras itself didn't declare war, Mambamark didn't care about the allied noble army.

But something out of their expectations happened. Before their ambassador even set out, word of the allied noble army's invasion came from the border. One of Mambamark's standing corps stationed there wasn't able to hold on for even a full day, being completely eliminated in their camps by the enemy. The enemy only rested for one night before heading to Mambamark's capital, Sugrasson, the next day.

On the 30th of the 5th month, Mambamark's standing corps, the Romak Musketeer Corps, clashed with the allied noble army, only to end up completely wiped out. Shocked, the ministers and king only found that the force they were fighting wasn't the allied noble army Duke Reddragon claimed to have formed, but rather, Thundercrash, the famous corps of the Aueran Autonomous Region. By then, Thundercrash was already less than a day's march from Sugrasson.

On the 2nd of the 6th month, Thundercrash encircled Sugrasson. Mambamark VI sent an ambassador to criticise the region for not declaring war and demanded them to leave the kingdom at once. However, the answer they received was that Thundercrash was part of the allied noble army, as Duke Reddragon had paid to hire them to join it. Mambamark VI, having accepted the declaration of war with the commander-in-chief of the allied noble army, Duke Reddragon, should have no legitimate qualms with them.

Additionally, the region maintains neutrality on the conflict between the Aueran nobles and Mambamark. They didn't want to make an enemy out of Mambamark. But having been hired by the allied noble army, they had to fulfil their obligations, so they asked for Mambamark VI's tolerance and understanding. Incidentally, they reminded the ambassador that Thundercrash would attack the capital in the next hour and asked the king to surrender soon so that nobody's feelings would get hurt.

When the ambassador returned to report the response to the king and ministers, Mambamark VI was so angered he vomited blood on the spot. The ministers called for him to calm down and said they would use the defences afforded by the city to fight Thundercrash till the end. However, some calmer minds believed they ought to surrender soon. After all, Thundercrash wouldn't harm their lives, so they could wait for the Aueran court to come and talk the matter out. Fredrey I wouldn't let Mambamark die if he cared about his reputation.

After all, the two kingdoms had no qualms with one another, nor did they have any territorial disputes. They knew well enough why it had come to this. It was all thanks to Mambamark VI's greed for Shiksan wealth, which prompted him to allow the so-called Canas-restoration Army to operate within their borders.

The city hoisted the white flag after Thundercrash's hundred cannons had fired about a thousand explosive rounds at the city wall. The gates opened and Mambamark officially surrendered to the allied noble army. As the ministers had guessed, Thundercrash didn't trouble the king or the ministers and allowed them to be escorted to the Aueran capital with their families and personal belongings. They even provided a hundred carriages and an escort of a tribe of cavalry troops.

Defeating a nation within two weeks sent shockwaves across Freia. Even the nobles at the Aueran capital thought it was a joke when they heard the allied noble army defeated Mambamark. But when Duke Reddragon wrote a report to the royal court, Fredrey I and Blancarte found out that Thundercrash was behind it.

However, not a single one of the Canas-restoration Army managed to escape. They were surrounded in their camp and taken care of in one fell swoop. Most of them ended up injured or dead and the rest surrendered and were taken captive. The captive testimonies revealed that Shiks was truly the one behind all the trouble. They had sent Mambamark VI large amounts of treasures and gold to get him to allow them to operate in the borders of the kingdom to cause trouble for the nobles in the Nasrian region. They were even given protection by the kingdom.

The main reason Mambamark fell so quickly was that it wasn't that huge. There were only nine prefectures across the kingdom. After being taken off guard by Thundercrash, they rallied the Romak Musketeer Corps in a hurry, only for them to be eliminated instead. All that remained was the ceremonial guard in the royal capital with pathetic fighting ability. There was no longer time to prepare a resistance against Thundercrash's advance.

After Sugrasson surrendered and the nobles and king were taken captive and sent to the Aueran capital, the remaining prefectures in Mambamark weren't able to resist Thundercrash at all. The local garrison and officials were sucked clean. Organised looting came next.

By the time Thundercrash left with their wealth, the allied noble army came for the worksmiths and young labourers, as well as production tools and livestock. Almost every prefecture in Mambamark was swept clean. Even if the kingdom didn't die just there, there would be nothing but a wasteland for the king and ministers to return to.

Claude wasn't too satisfied. Even though Mambamark hadn't fought a war in the past century, all they got didn't even amount to seven million crowns. The kingdom's wealth was as small as its area. It seemed that he had to count on Shiks to not disappoint him with their wealth.

Bleyotte, that neighboured Mambamark, were on full martial law and mobilised all their citizens. Avitelli I sent ambassadors nonstop to the Shiksan capital of Saint Cyprean to request Majid III for military supplies and resources to prevent a sudden war with Thundercrash.

As a Shiksan vassal ruler, King Avitelli I's volunteer spirit came as quite a delight for Majid III. Avitellli I wrote that the loss of Mambamark showed how strong the Aueran Autonomous Region was, however, they lucked out because Mambamark was mostly flat land and the enemy attacked without warning. They only lost because they were caught off guard.

Bleyotte, on the other hand, was mostly mountains. They were fully capable of preparing a complete defence line to stop the enemy in their tracks. As a vassal nation of Shiks, as long as they were given appropriate military support, the four corps of Bleyotte guaranteed the enemy would be stopped in their borders.

So, Majid III decided to support the Bleyottean army and sent a group of officers and technicians there to help them erect the defence line and monitor them. He wrote to Avitelli I and promised that if war broke out, Shiks would send reinforcements as soon as possible to stop the Aueran invasion.

Chapter 559 - Strategic Lies

Baron Tompost was a famed defence expert in Shiks with a background in architecture. At the age of 41, he was sent by Majid III to Bleyotte to help the Bleyotteans build a strong line of defences to weather a possible invasion by Aueras.

Baron Tompost's father was a noble of the Shiksan court. In terms of bloodline, he had a distant familial relation to the royal family. The court nobles referred to nobles created by the court itself but didn't have any fiefs to their name. Instead, they held various posts in court. They could be seen as the royal family's most reliable subordinates.

Baron Tompost's father had hoped his son would grow up into a famous explorer. Perhaps, that way, he would be able to find a valuable resource for his household and provide them with a constant stream of wealth that would eventually allow them to support a fief of their own. That was why Baron Tompost was sent to the royal family's mining engineering academy to study resource surveying when he came of age.

Much to his father's disappointment, however, his son became obsessed with architecture during his studies and lost all interest in his main field of study. When he graduated three years later, he was already an architect of humble reputation but only barely qualified to be a surveyor for mineable resources.

What made him stand out was a simple defensive camp design he made for a mining base. Some nobles owning gold mines bought that design and built it accordingly. Four months later, the gold mines came under attack by bandits. There were only 17 miners manning the defences at the storage area, yet they managed to drive close to a hundred bandits away and held on for half a month, suffering only one death and four injuries in the meantime, before military reinforcements finally arrived.

That event reverberated throughout the Shiksan kingdom and the designs of the defences Tompost drew up received a lot of attention. Quite a number of mine owners realised that if they built their bases according to that design, their security could be improved a few times over. Should there be a bandit attack, there would be no way for them to breach the defences without powerful cannons. In time, Tompost's defensive layout became the standard for mining base defences.

Currently, Tompost was fuming over how lazy the Bleyottean labourers were. He had wanted to try out a new anti-cannon trench he had been designing, so he was really strict on the Bleyottean labourers. However, they didn't take him seriously and casually dug out a trench before calling it a day.

Even when he exasperatedly told them that they could minimise casualties if his designs were followed carefully, the supervisor of those labourers didn't really seem to mind. He told the baron all they needed was a trench, and the brave Bleyottean soldiers weren't cowardly tortoises. They would rather charge into a melee than hide in their shells and shoot cold bullets at the enemy. That simply wasn't the warrior way.

Tompost was furious, but he wasn't able to convince those stubborn Bleyotteans at all. He had wanted to build a rocky cover above the trenches to protect the soldiers within from harm, but the Bleyotteans didn't want it, thinking that the cover would impede their charges and attacks. Not to mention, the stuffy air the cover would result in a claustrophobic sensation which wasn't conducive to battle.

Fuming, Tompost decided to complain to Bleyotte's head engineer, but was stopped by his colleague halfway there. That man was a Shiksan captain who had come to Bleyotte with Tompost. He was covered in mud, but his expression seemed really excited. Tompost curiously asked why he looked to be in such a sorry state.

The Shiksan captain excitedly shared that he had been scouting at the borders of Mambamark, having hidden in a muddy puddle for close to two hours and managing to evade the Aueran patrols. Eventually, he found out that the enemy camps were hollow shells where the allied noble army's troops dwelled. Thundercrash, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen, with half the tents in the camp not showing any signs of having been lived in.

It was obvious the enemy wouldn't be attacking Bleyotte. Instead, this looked to be a distraction. Thundercrash's attack on Mambamark was possibly just to divert troops from the Shiksan coast to the Bleyottean border, weakening the defences at the coast and giving them a chance to get ashore there. In fact, conquering a port city before beginning their fight on Shiksan land was far more direct than crossing Bleyotte on land to reach Shiks.

Tompost seemed a little disappointed. If what the captain said was true, all the defences he was building would go to waste. Perhaps the Bleyotteans also found out the same things the captain scout had, so they decided to slack off instead of spending so much effort building a defence line that might not be utilised anyway. They probably kept that fact a secret thanks to the huge military relief and funding they were receiving from Shiks.

Shiks was really alert and careful against the autonomous region. The moment it heard that Thundercrash swept through Mambamark and gathered all the Canas-restoration Army members Shiks had been backing and eliminated them, the alarm bells in the Shiksan court were rung. They immediately raised their guard, given that the two nations were still at war. It would be no surprise for an attack to come from Thundercrash at any time.

That was also why Majid III was so generous with the military aid he gave to Avitelli I. Usually, he was really cautious towards the strongest vassal nation under his belt. Shiks had never actually managed to properly make Bleyotte submit to it. It was only after a slow grind over the past few decades that they managed to get that unruly little brother to be obedient.

But with Thundercrash in the picture, Bleyotte didn't seem to be as big of a threat anymore. Since Avitelli I volunteered to prevent an invasion from the region, Shiks naturally had to respond with generous support. Majid III couldn't wait to see Bleyotte and the region fight it out with each other. That might solve two of Shiks' biggest problems in one go.

The top Shiksan commanders in their ministry of the army weren't fools either. They came to understand the true might of Thundercrash after the Second Great Eastern Freian War. They believed that one Thundercrash folk could take on one of their own standing corps in an open battlefield. The ideal move for Shiks to make was to sign a peace deal with Aueras to end the war. Only then would they be able to gather their manpower and resources to research new weapons with which to seek revenge against Aueras and its autonomous region in the future.

It was too bad Majid III rejected that perfectly rational proposition. He believed Aueras wouldn't be able to pose much of a threat to them, seeing as they were separated by two nations on land. If the sea route was used, they'd at most be able to send over a corps or two. If the region dared to send Thundercrash onto Shiksan shores, he would send all his troops to wipe them out at the coast.

Majid III didn't believe his eight standing corps wouldn't be able to wipe out Thundercrash and Monolith. Even with the most rudimentary swarm tactics, he would be able to bury them. As long as the enemy dared to get on their shores, Shiks could even call for the formation of up to 20 more reserve corps should eight standing corps not already be enough.

The Shiksan officials and officers were helpless to that. It was their bad luck for having a king like that. Even so, they didn't dare speak out against him and did the second best thing they could, which was to expand the defences of the five port cities, priming it for any seaborne threat.

When they heard that the region's troops swept through Mambamark, the officers in the Shiksan ministry immediately ran sandtable simulations in hopes of finding a concrete conclusion on whether Thundercrash was coming for Shiks or merely wiping out the Canas-restoration Army.

Bleyotte's request for aid to Shiks, on the other hand, was the first cause of conflict in the Shiksan military. Quite a number of officers believed that the region was highly likely to attack Bleyotte, occupy it, before going for Shiks.

They pointed to the fact that Thundercrash was a light-cavalry corps with great mobility. Only through land could they use their abilities to their maximum potential. If they came from the sea, they couldn't possibly bring their war horses alongside their troops. At most, they'd be able to send small numbers of them over. That would be akin to them giving up on an edge they had. It was most irrational.

Additionally, once Thundercrash swept through Mambamark, they set up a large camp capable of holding up to five corps at the Shiksan border. Coupled with the reports from informants in Northbay that the region sent over three corps recently using Ironclad, it was clear their next target was Bleyotte.

However, some other officers maintained that the region would mount a surprise attack from the sea by conquering their port cities before launching their main assault. They scoffed at the notion they would be attacking on land, thinking their contemporaries to have forgotten about a crucial point: Bleyotte was covered in mostly mountainous terrain. Light cavalry would have a hard time moving freely there.

As for the routes between the mountains, they were easily blocked and destroyed. Not to mention, the defensive strongholds across the mountains meant that Thundercrash would have to dismount and fight all the same to conquer them one after another to advance along the paths. Not to mention, Bleyotteans were eager fighters who wouldn't let Thundercrash cross their territory easily to attack Shiks. If Thundercrash wanted to secure their supply line, they would have to occupy the whole of Bleyotte and eliminate the threat in the mountains.

It was obvious that conquering a Shiksan port city was much faster than wasting time catching Bleyotteans in the mountains. At least, they wouldn't have to make a new enemy of them. As such, that faction of officers believed the troops stationed at the Bleyottean border to be a mere ruse to divert their attention and troops away.

The worst part for the Shiksan military was that the battle was out of their hands. The enemy held all the initiative. Currently, all Thundercrash did was occupy Mambamark and set up a camp at their borders, and that was enough to have the Shiksan military freak out.

Currently, Bleyotte was ready for an incoming invasion, and Shiks was also on alert and wracking their heads over where Aueras would attack from. Majid III even wanted to form a few reserve corps. Fortunately, the court ministers were still clear headed. They stopped him in his tracks.

After all, if Thundercrash had no intention to attack them at all, then forming those corps would be a waste of funding. Shiks was no different from a rat sealed in a box without anywhere to go. Without Seaking, the sea was useless to them and they couldn't transport their troops anywhere. They could only regain parity if they had an ironclad fleet like the region's.

Additionally, they were surrounded by vassal nations which they couldn't go to war with. Unless Bleyotte was willing to open up a path for Shiksan troops to pass through to attack Thundercrash in Mambamark, no military action would be taken. Yet, Majid III didn't have the guts for such a move, nor did his generals approve that risky manoeuvre. As long as they were inferior to the enemy's troops, it would be suicide to provoke hostilities on their own accord.

At that time, the Shiksan military finally received word from a captain on the Bleyottean frontlines. It wasn't just an observation made by him alone, but rather, more than ten other Shiksan soldiers in Bleyotte.

These soldiers were led by the captain to observe the enemy camps at the borders. They even captured a few enemy soldiers and their testimonies revealed that Thundercrash had returned to Northbay. The camps at the border were indeed mostly empty for the purpose of scaring Bleyotte about an impending invasion.

It was an empty front. The faction maintaining that Aueras would attack from sea had a complete victory. The land faction, in their anger, made a proposition for their troops to cross Bleyotte to attack the allied noble army that was in the camps instead, before marching further into the Nasrian region to repatriate Nasri's court in exile.

However, Majid III shot down that proposition. As the others in the army had said, Thundercrash was a light-cavalry unit. Nobody knew whether they truly returned to Northbay as no informants there confirmed that report. If it was a ploy to bait them, they would stand the risk of being totally annihilated.

Thus, the engineers and officers sent to Bleyotte were called back. Majid III was pained at the thought of the ammunition and supplies he gave Bleyotte. Though, he didn't demand them back for the sake of his reputation. However, that didn't stop him from using the Bleyotteans as cannon fodder.

He wrote to Avitelli I and requested the Bleyotteans to send reinforcements in the event of an Aueran attack on Shiksan shores. He was delighted to hear that Bleyotte would be sending over two corps to help out.

On the 23rd of the 7th month, the Shiksan informants in Northbay reported that the region gathered more than 300 transport sail ships at Northbay as well as up to a hundred sail warships. There was a flotilla of 28 ironclad warships accompanying them. Thundercrash, the newly formed Typhoon, Monolith and a reserve corps were all gathered at Northbay. They totalled up to an estimate of 400 thousand men.

Due to the strict camp security, nobody else was able to approach it, so the informants couldn't verify the details. However, some drunken baseline officers in the tavern leaked that the region had decided to mount an attack on Shiks from the sea, though the port they were targeting still wasn't fixed.

On the 11th of the 8th month, Ironclad appeared in Shiksan waters and sunk all their fishing vessels, captured all merchant and transport vessels and bombarded the Shiksan Minslake Island and Jinbak Island for three days before leaving.

On the 23rd of the 8th month, the Ironclad once more appeared in Shiksan waters. This time, they used their land units to take over those two aforementioned islands.

Chapter 560 - 9th Month of Year 604

On the 7th of the 9th month, Year 604, Thundercrash and Monolith flew their flags in the Northbay camp and marched in eight rows from Canpast's main street to the docks. They boarded the transport ships waiting for them, and departed. It took them the entire day to finish boarding, so they set out only after dark. Because of the time it took them to board, the Shiksan informants didn't stay long enough to see that most of them were armed with breech-loading muskets.

They also didn't notice that the unit flying Monolith's banner was actually the four homecoming Shiksan folks. Even though they had informants in the region as well, the sheer distance between the two continents slowed the spread of news to a crawl. It took three months for a single communique to travel one way, and that was under ideal circumstances.

It usually took three days to sail from Northbay to Shiks. The flotilla was immense, however, several hundred ships. In order to keep everyone together, they could only sail during the day, so they had to anchor every night at sundown. As a result, it took the flotilla five more days to reach Shiks than they had initially planned.

As Minslake Island and Jinbak Island had been taken over by the region, their troops would obviously dock near those two islands. Minslake was the larger of the two and less than 15 kilometres away from the Shiksan coast. If the region transported their two corps there, their target would obviously be Port Bengla or Port Alinass.

Those two ports were only a day's voyage from Minslake Island, after all. If Ironclad could conquer the cannon platforms of those two port cities, they would easily be able to transport Thundercrash and Monolith to shore for an attack on the docks and the city stronghold, securing a foothold for a further Aueran assault.

Though, they couldn't afford to ignore Jinbak Island either. It was the closest island to the Shiksan coast. In fact, it was just opposite Port Kangna, being only 5 kilometres away from it. On days with good weather, one could see the opposite shore from higher altitudes easily. However, Port Kangna was Bleyottean territory that was ceded to Shiks. If the region chose to start its offensive there, it would be committing suicide. The officers of the Shiksan military couldn't be happier to see that happen.

That was because Port Kangna, Port Patkara behind it and Manori Plains were all territories Shiks took from Bleyotte. That combined coastal area was only three prefectures large. Only one side of it faced the ocean, with the others surrounded by Bleyottean highlands.

Should the region pick Port Kangna, Shiks would be able to trap Monolith and Thundercrash in the plains by sending troops to guard the entrance to the mountains at Port Patkara. Shiks could even mobilise the Bleyottean mountain corps to launch guerilla strikes on the Aueran troops. Avitelli I had to do something to deserve all the military aid he was receiving, after all.

On the evening of the 8th of the 9th month in the waters of Mambamark, some 300 transport ships anchored down after a day of sailing. The ships weren't arranged in a defensive formation, but rather, a formation ready for docking. The waters in the area were covered with many empty wooden boxes, across which a long, wooden path was built. There were some ten plus shallow-water ships nailed together to serve as floating piers where the transport fleet could anchor.

"Move faster and pay attention!" a bearded first lieutenant yelled as he instructed the soldiers on the transport ships to climb down from the net of the floating piers. They lined up neatly into rows of troops and crossed the wooden bridge to shore under their commanders' orders.

On the deck of Ironclad's flagship, Saint Hughslind, Moriad was sending off Claude and the rest.

"Shiks definitely wouldn't imagine that their backdoor has been opened after Bleyotte joined us. Let's hope you can reach the Shiksan royal capital, Saint Cyprean, without trouble." Moriad seemed a little unwilling to see them go. While he was now an admiral of the region that sailed freely and unabated across the seas, he had lost the pride and glory that came with conquering cities and exterminating nations.

Berklin and Dyavid came to give Moriad a tight hug. Those two were part of the main vanguard in the attack against Saint Cyprean. Claude, on the other hand, would remain at the rear to control the bigger picture and coordinate the three Bleyottean corps to attack.

"Alright, we still need Ironclad's cooperation in this attack. Don't worry, you'll get to contribute too," Claude said as he gave Moriad a pat on the shoulder. "Whether we can lead Shiks by the nose will depend on your performance at the coast to draw their attention away. Don't let them notice any flaws. As long as we can take the capital, they'll be helpless to fight back."

Of all the things Shiks was expecting, the region's forces getting ashore at a cavern near the coast of Mambamark wasn't one of them. After that, they would be routed through the east of Bleyotte into the Shiksan heartland where Saint Cyprean was located.

Currently, seven of the eight Shiksan standing corps had been transferred to the coastal area. Only one corps, Ironguard, was left to defend the capital. The rear of the kingdom was also sparsely armed, with there only being garrison forces stationed. Additionally, Shiks had decided to form eight reserve corps in their eight coastal prefectures while the other prefectures focused on sending war supplies to the capital. Whether they went on full alert and mobilisation would depend on the situation after Thundercrash and Monolith launched their attacks.

The transport ships were already prevented from getting ashore. Even the coastal cavern where Thundercrash disembarked had been sealed off by the allied noble army of Mambamark. Claude had brainstormed for a long time for the final battle against Shiks. Had it not been for Bleyotte secretly switching sides, the region wouldn't have dared to carry out such a daring plan.

The transport ships quickly left the floating piers after they let Thundercrash and the homecoming Shiksan folks disembark. Then, they stood the uniformed straw men on the ships' decks. From afar, it seemed like they were carrying lots of soldiers. The transport ships would still have to be escorted near Shiksan waters by Ironclad before finally stopping at Minslake Island to give the illusion of disembarking troops.

During this campaign, the region mobilised Thundercrash, Typhoon and the eight homecoming Shiksan folks. In total, they had around four corps' of troops. Coupled with the allied noble corps that joined them to take advantage of the situation and the three Bleyottean mountain corps, their total number exceeded that of the eight Shiksan standing corps. With Shiks having transferred much of their troops to the coastal areas, they exposed a huge opening for the region's troops to take advantage of.

During the afternoon of the 11th of the 9th month, Claude reached the large camp set up at the border of Mambamark and Bleyotte. Avitelli I brought his son, Prince Iksdor, to welcome Claude alongside Borkal, Duke Reddragon, Marquis Griffon, and the other nobles. To maintain secrecy, they didn't hold any grand welcome ceremony and entered the tent after a quick chat.

Borkal was the first one to give a briefing on Shiks. When the rest heard that the Shiksan prefectures near Bleyotte were completely undefended, they cracked sly smiles.

"Shiks has 53 prefectures and a royal territory. They can be divided up into the nine eastern prefectures, eight southern prefectures, ten western prefectures, eleven northern prefectures, 15 central prefectures and the royal territory by itself. The way from Bleyotte to the royal capital of Saint Cyprean cuts through the prefectures of Kreisdi and Tolsta in the east, and Weestmon and Romaflin in the central area. Beyond that is the royal family's territory. Thundercrash will take seven days to mount such an attack.

"There are only three prefectures separating the royal territory and the southern coasts, namely, Dademoss, Ridleys and Lonwayork. The Shiksan standing corps are stationed at the coasts right now. For instance, Lonwayork is stationed with Soram Corps, whereas one reserve corps has been formed in Ridleys.

"If we are to use Thundercrash to attack the royal capital, we'll need to keep their movements hidden from Shiks, and that's the hardest part. The moment they realise something is off, they will strengthen the capital's defences. Reinforcements from Lonwayork and Soram can reach the royal capital in three short days. That poses a rather huge challenge to us."

Borkal pointed at several key points on the Shiksan map during his presentation. He didn't agree to Berklin's proposal to use light cavalry for a surprise attack on Saint Cyprean due to the really long distance. No matter how fast a horse rider was, he couldn't outrun a carrier eagle.

It would also be difficult to hide Thundercrash's tracks. The way to the royal capital was rife with towns. Pedestrian and civilian traffic, especially those of merchants, was so high that it wouldn't be possible to mask the presence of near 90 thousand troops. Not to mention, Shiks didn't even have a cavalry unit that huge. Any Shiksan official would suspect them right away. The moment they came forwards to question them, their cover would be blown.

"I received a letter from Majid III that demanded Bleyotte to mobilise two mountain corps to Shiks to fortify the defences of their southern coasts. Perhaps we can do something about this... like sending troops to the royal capital on the pretence of going to secure the southern coasts," Avitelli I said.

Borkal shook his head. "While Majid III wants people to send him reinforcements, they will send someone to monitor your two corps instead of just letting you pass. They'll even start to take control and scheme to take the right to command from you and have your troops die at the frontlines as cannon fodder."

Claude looked at the map and tapped on the area near the royal capital and Dademoss. "If we set up a defence line here in Dademoss to block reinforcements from Soram from Lonwayork, we only need three days to take the royal capital. After that, we'll have enough troops to deal with the seven Shiksan standing corps."

Claude's plan was rather simple. He would have Avitelli I negotiate with Majid III about sending one of their Bleyottean corps to the Shiksan port. That so-called Bleyottean corps would actually be none other two folks than the disguised troops of Thundercrash's two folks. After arriving at Dademoss and manipulating the local officials there to check them out, they would form a defence line there.

Once the first Bleyottean corps was sent out, he would try to station a small unit of men in those towns before having them report on the towns' states through carrier eagles. By the time the other two folks of Thundercrash arrived in the second Bleyottean corps, they would be able to take over the signalling points in those towns immediately without letting them notify the capital. But by the time Thundercrash and Typhoon arrived at Saint Cyprean, there would no longer be a need to pretend.

In the event Soram was sent to reinforce the others, they would almost be wiped out immediately. Claude believed Thundercrash's two folks would be more than enough to fight the Shiksan standing corps. As for the Shiksan corps stationed near the coastal area, they required different times to return to the royal capital. Either they waited for the slower ones to gather together or went to the royal capital first in an act of suicide.

On the 17th of the 9th month, Avitelli I and Majid III's written conversations finally allowed Shiks and Bleyotte to go into a deal. Avitelli I sent a Bleyottean corps complete with carriages and tools. They then travelled to the royal territory within 17 days. After resting for one day and receiving the gifts from Majid III, they would then head to the southern coast to prepare for battle against Shiks.

Avitelli I agreed to let Majid III send officials to join Bleyotte's military council with some degree of influence and power. He also requested Majid III to provide the necessary supplies they needed for a long march, as well as the intelligence updates they would need. Bleyotte left one tent of men in every town they passed to be the messengers between those two corps.

Naturally, the second Bleyottean corps would come half a month after the first one. Majid III was overjoyed to hear that and let his ministers show the letter Avitelli I wrote. He couldn't wait to see the region and Bleyotte duke it out with each other.

On the 19th of the 9th month, the first of Bleyottean troops reached Shiksan soil. They received a mission from the royal court to transport the supply-filled carriages to the royal territory. Bleyotte also sent out a tribe of light cavalrymen to join the journey with the 100 plus carriages.

Claude remained in the main camp between Bleyotte and Shiks. That camp was actually prepared for the second Bleyottean corps that was about to head out. However, they weren't as lucky as the first, who got to travel in horse carriages. The second batch could only walk all the way to the southern coasts. That alone would take them more than 30 days.

At the front of the camp was indeed the second mountain corps of Bleyotte. But much of the troops at the back were troops from Thundercrash 3rd and 4th Folks, as well as the newly formed Typhoon and the allied noble army of the duke and marquis.

Claude finally announced the start of their last meeting before the attack.

"Behind Port Kangna are Port Patakara and Manori Plains. These three areas used to be former prefectures of Bleyotte, which we will have to return after the war alongside the eastern prefectures of Kreisdi, Mejiwana, Bir Forest and Funkjy Mountain. Those seven prefectures are something we can't dip our hands in."

Claude was the one doing the dirty work now. He knew the kind of fellows that made up Duke Reddragon and Marquis Griffon's allied noble army. While they said they were there to help, they came with the intention of robbing the whole place clean. "I'm going to leave the ten western prefectures to you. These prefectures are only sparsely defended by local garrison troops. Your army of 100 thousand should be able to wipe them out rather easily."

The duke and marquis nodded. While the ten western prefectures weren't particularly prosperous, they were still considered to be the more resource-rich lands in Shiks. The Shiksan nobles there should be packing quite an amount of wealth. But more importantly, those ten prefectures had their original two standing corps transferred to the frontlines, making them the ideal fruit to pick.

Bleyotte would be mobilising three full corps. Avitelli I didn't ask for independent action and instead handed his three corps into Claude's command. He also sent his son, Iksdor, to be Claude's personal adjutant and helper. Additionally, Avitelli I himself would be going to Shiks with Claude as he wished he would be able to see its extermination with his own eyes.

Chapter 561 - Attacking First

"What are these Bleyottean monkeys up to now? Why did they not leave again today?"

Baron Hendrik sounded quite unhappy. His mission would've been completed after he had sent those Bleyotteans to Lonwayork as cannon fodder. Once they defeated Aueras' 'region', he would have received his reward and that would have been the end of it. Even if he hadn't done much to contribute, he would at least have been acknowledged for his duties and might have been promoted.

Everything had been going well until they reached Saint Cyprean. The large reward Majid III promised the Bleyottean mountain corps had completely disappeared, so had their grand feast. All the soldiers were given were two cups of ale and a catty of rock-hard jerky left out for who-knew-how-long. It destroyed the men's morale. They marched at barely a crawl once they were out of sight of the capital. It took them three days to make it to Dademoss. Now, they were so lazy they hadn't even bothered to look for an excuse for why they had yet to set out again.

"I saw some cavalrymen leave the scout tribe's camps this morning. I asked one of the first lieutenants where they were going. He told me with an incredibly sour attitude they were probably going to get some fresh meat. It really is laughable for our king to give these monkeys jerky dried 20 years ago... They don't even have the teeth needed to bite through meat that hard," joked another Shiksan reservist in hopes of cheering up the baron.

He and some ten of his compatriots currently present were the baron's loyal minions.

A smile finally surfaced on Hendrik's face. He didn't think Majid III was wrong in reducing the reward those monkeys got. The expression when those monkeys got the jerky really was funny. Hendrik managed to see one soldier take a bite out of the jerky only to break one of his teeth. The mere thought of that scene would always cause him to chuckle.

"I heard the Bleyottean monkeys are trying to figure out how to make that jerky edible. Immersing it in water before cooking it doesn't work. The cooks even ruined two good blades by trying to cut them. So, it's no surprise they want to eat some proper meat. Anyone would get sick of eating black bread every day," said another local official. While Shiks was in charge of supplying the food of the mountain corps, they mostly provided fruits and black bread. There was little meat if any. Even the Shiksan officials in charge of transporting the supplies had to get their own meat.

"Let's go see General Beck during noon and tell him that logistics will only return to normal after they reach the destination. By then, they'll definitely be fed as well as our kingdom's standing corps. Currently, they're only two prefectures away from the frontlines. We have to send those monkeys over quick. After our mission is done, we can head back and end our suffering with these monkeys," Hendrik decided. No matter what, he had to send the monkeys on their way. This matter couldn't afford to be delayed any longer.

"Lord, General Beck's adjutant came looking for you just now. He said the general is treating us to roast mutton today," Hendrik's attendant reported.

Hendrik had to admit that the corpsman of the monkey corps was a rather decent noble general who knew how to treat people rightly and generously. In the half a month they were travelling together, Beck had invited the Shiksan officials to a few feasts already. Hendrik also found him to be a rather decent conversation partner. It was a shame he was a Bleyottean. Otherwise, Hendrik would definitely love to become better friends with Beck.

During noon, the fragrant smell of roast meat wafted through the camp. When Hendrik and the rest went towards the main tent, they noticed that the Bleyottean monkeys all got roasted mutton. He looked closely and saw that each band had a whole sheep. It wasn't a small sum the general had spent. The force had 70 thousand men, and each band had roughly 50 men. So the general had bought at least 1400 sheep!

The sheep yet unfinished were being grilled on a number of spits just outside the main tent. The soldiers in charge of roasting were brushing spices and sauce on the mutton. Hendrik's appetite immediately soared when he smelled the food. He immediately got himself a silver plate from a table nearby and picked one of the pieces he was satisfied with.

"It tastes rather good," he praised Beck as he chewed, "I didn't think you'd manage to get so many sheep. However, it's a little wasteful to let these soldiers have this. You didn't have to feed them roast mutton to raise their morale. Giving them mutton soup is already enough."

As far as Hendrik was concerned, the soldiers were mere cannon fodder. It was a waste to feed someone a good meal if they were going to die on the battlefield soon anyway. To feed them till their stomachs were full was already really generous. There was no need to waste money to sate their desire for meat. If he were the general, he would give out one sheep for each tribe for them to make mutton soup to go with their black bread.

Beck smiled and raised his wine glass for a sip. "I was rather lucky. All the sheep in a farmstead near town have been brought here. Don't worry, there are more than five thousand sheep. It's enough for our men to have mutton roast three times over."

It only just occurred to Hendrik that Dademoss was famous for being a herding prefecture that produced quality wool and mutton. The mutton from Dademoss was among the favourite foods of the citizens of Saint Cyprean. Usually, a farmstead would only have a few hundred sheep. Specialised sheep farms would already be considered quite huge if they had more than a thousand sheep. Yet, the Bleyotteans managed to get five thousand in one morning alone.

"You must've spent quite a lot, right? You're really loose with your money, for you to buy so many sheep for your soldiers to enjoy. If this goes on, you'll eventually burn through your fortune, even if you have a hill of gold." Hendrik felt that the general's generosity was a little too wasteful. Before he swallowed his meat, he drank some wine to wash it down.

"Hahaha..." Beck poured Hendrik another glass. "We didn't spend anything. We seized all five thousand of these sheep."

Panicked coughing ensued. Hendrik almost choked from the wine. It took him quite a while to stop his coughing, before he pointed to Beck in shock. "W-what did you say?! S-seizures? Who gave you that order?!"

"Our king, Avitelli I, of course. His Majesty wrote a letter to say that, according to the agreement signed with your king, the First Mountain Corps' supplies during our march would be sourced in full by your lot, and that includes meat, eggs, fresh vegetables and fruit. It's a shame that you only provided black bread and some dried fruits to us during the past half month. Oh, there's that jerky that's even harder than steel, and that's supposed to be a bonus from your king.

"So, when I reported that up top, our king said we were free to seize as we pleased. Our troops are more than happy to carry out the order. And dare I say, they did so magnificently. Look, we managed to gather quite a lot of other useful resources apart from the sheep. You Shiksans are really patriotic, I'll give you that. When they found out we were here to fight on your behalf, they even donated their personal wealth to fund us."

Beck opened a large wooden chest beside him. The chest was mostly filled with gold and silverware such as candelabras, bowls and cups. Hendrik even saw a golden tooth covered in some blood, a clear sign of the struggle of an unwilling donor. Otherwise, the donor would've washed the blood off before handing it over.

Clang! The golden cup and silver plate in Hendrik's hands fell to the ground.

He pointed at the smiling general, still enjoying the roast meat, and stammered, "Y-you... how dare y-you seize property on our soil?"

Beck's expression was one of total confusion. "Why not? Since you're not willing to give us any, we'll take it for ourselves. It's only expected."

Expected his ass! Hendrik immediately despaired. It was no longer an issue of whether he could finish his task. Instead, the Bleyotteans had done something treasonous on his watch! It was a complete insult to the northern superpower that was Shiks! At what point had it become acceptable for the army of a vassal to seize goods in the land of their masters? This humiliation wasn't something Shiks could live down!

Other things aside, Dademoss was close to the royal territory. Most of the farmsteads in this prefecture were owned by nobles that live in the capital. Who knew how many nobles the Bleyotteans had angered with their seizures? Now, local officials in charge of guiding the way like Hendrik got dragged down by those monkeys' transgressions!

"You... it's over for you! Do you know how serious this infraction is?! You'll even cause trouble for Bleyotte! The only thing you can do now is to make up to the people from whom you seized things and send your troops to the frontlines immediately! Perhaps you'll get to keep your life this way!" Hendrik yelled.

"Don't get mad. It really isn't that big of a deal," Beck said with a shrug, "Go to the frontlines? Nope, we won't do it. The folk of Dademoss have been most hospitable and welcoming, you see, so I think we'll station ourselves here a little longer to make sure they don't come under harm from the enemy. We'll set our defence line here instead. If the region's troops break through your defences at the frontlines, we'll be here to receive them."

Hendrik felt his head spin from the headache. What did this mean? Beck the monkey general said he wouldn't be leaving so he could continue terrorising the folk of Dademos and set up a defence line there. They were still two prefectures away from the frontlines, so who was there to defend against? Were they trying to commit treason?

"How... how dare you..." Hendrik wagged his finger, but no more words came out.

"Why wouldn't I?--" A chilling, murderous look finally surfaced on Beck's face. "--Lord Baron, it's best you enjoy your delicious meal now, as it'll be your last. I've had enough of you and your men bossing us around. Do you see those gallows over there? We prepared them for you and your colleagues."

On the 16th of the 10th month in Saint Cyprean, the atmosphere in the royal court was tense. Majid III's cursing and scolding could be heard nonstop. He had been yelling for nearly half an hour, and all the ministers and nobles in court lowered their heads, taking the mad barking silently.

Just that morning, they received word that the two mountain corps from Bleyotte couldn't take the stingy treatment they were getting from Shiks any longer and rebelled. One corps pillaged Dademoss and held feast after feast, unwilling to head to the frontlines. Instead, they built a defence line where they were and decided to hold their ground. The other corps was heading towards the royal capital. Word was that they were there to raid and burn the royal sector of the capital.

Majid III immediately decided he would go to war with Bleyotte after this war. He proclaimed that as long as they defeated the region in this attack, he would declare war on Bleyotte to wipe out that ungrateful, dastardly nation.

He was so generous and sincere towards Bleyotte, having helped them out without compensation when they were facing many dangers. Little did he know that the Bleyottean monkeys were all cold-blooded wolves. For a rebellion to start during such a crucial moment, Majid III made a note to not let any of the officers that rebelled off.

"Your Majesty, it's best we start thinking about how we should deal with those two traitorous mountain corps," said General Philmos, the chief supervisor of the ministry of the army. He knew that the battle of words would never end, at least not within the next two hours.

"Deploy! Let's wipe out those traitors once and for all! Tell our brave warriors that we're not taking any captives this battle! Hang all those captured alive!" Majid III ordered.

The decision to send troops out was easy, but the question was which place to deploy and whether they would make it in time. Philmos found it to be quite fortunate that First Mountain Corps set up camp and stopped instead of heading to the royal capital. Perhaps they were too spoiled by the mutton they didn't want to leave. Little did the court expect Second Mountain Corps would show up, giving Claude an enormous advantage.

Majid III also personally decreed Soram to head to Dademoss to wipe First Mountain Corps out. The officers of the Shiksan military were rather confident, as Soram was among the main fighting forces of the kingdom and would definitely be able to contribute lots.

It would be all too easy for them to deal with a corps of Bleyottean monkeys, especially when the two corps of Bleyotte were less used to fighting on land. Dademoss was mostly covered in flat, herding pastures. Once those monkeys got off their tree branches, they would be helpless against the Shiksans. They believed word of their victory would come soon.

All that remained was Second Mountain Corps. According to intel, they were said to be marching quickly towards the royal capital, being fully aware of the wealth stored in it. That kind of wealth exceeded even that of three Shiksan prefectures. The royal capital was definitely far more developed and prosperous than the other prefectures.

Almost all the nobles and ministers of Shiks requested the military to be ready to fight their foes. They also couldn't afford to let the Bleyotteans into the royal capital, lest they lost their wealth to the monkeys.

After General Philmos' considerations, he ignored the advice and requests of his compatriots and decided he would have Ironguard Corps in the royal capital exterminate that corps of Bleyottean monkeys. Ironguard was the Shiksan analogue to the Aueran royal guard. While they were considered to be the strongest troops of the kingdom. They were more than capable of taking on those monkeys.

What came as a headache for the officers, however, was how a number of brave princes volunteered to serve. They joined the ranks of their household troops with their personal guards.

The nobles' forces amounted to nearly one folk. Philmos had wanted to cut another folk from Ironguard initially. But now that they were replaced by the private forces of the nobles, he straightforwardly requested permission to send an armoured folk to chase after them. It was best to get Majid III to fix the situation for them. Even if Ironguard fell to the monkeys' attacks, they could simply send even more reserve troops after them. The Shiksans were nothing if not persistent, after all.

On the 19th of the 10th month, Soram left Lonwayork and arrived in Dademoss. After three hours of rest, they mounted an attack on the Bleyotteans. The battle was fought till two in the morning, ending with them retreating from suffering great casualties.

On the 20th of the 10th month at ten in the morning, Ironguard and the private forces of the nobles came under a surprise attack from the cavalrymen of Typhoon and were all eliminated. By the time Typhoon surrounded Saint Cyprean, it was already five. The royal capital finally fell to conquest at eight in the evening.

At the same time, the Bleyotteans' First Mountain Corps in Dademos launched a counterattack at eleven in the morning and encircled Soram at three in the afternoon.

Chapter 562 - The Great Demise

By the time Claude and Avitelli I reached Saint Cyprean, it was the end of the 10th month, ten days since Typhoon attacked and conquered the city. During that span of time, word of Saint Cyprean's fall was spread throughout the continent, coming obviously as a shock to all those paying attention to the world stage. Nobody would've expected the top superpower of Northern Freia to be so easily felled.

Aueras' prime minister, Blancarte, hurriedly travelled to Shiks nonstop with a head filled with regret. He had heard Claude state the goal of his return clearly: to conquer Shiks. Yet, the king and him, the prime minister, as well as the ministry of the army, doubted his words, thinking that there was no way they would so easily be able to deal with Shiks.

Instead, they put up their guard against him in fear that he would mount a coup. After all, Aueras would be much easier prey for the autonomous region than Shiks. As Aueras had been recovering its economy over the past two years, it didn't do much to rebuild its military. When they found that Claude was forming Typhoon at Northbay, the royal court immediately formed two reserve corps to boost their defences.

What the king and court didn't think was Claude rallied his troops at the Great Plains of Canas precisely for the purpose of dealing with Shiks. He had successfully used naval combat to draw the attention of the Shiksans, who sent most of their forces to the coasts to resist an impending attack on their shores by the region.

Claude, however, had managed to convince the Kingdom of Bleyotte to join the fight against Shiks without anyone else knowing. Not only did the Bleyotteans lead the way and open a path into the weakly defended Shiks, they even helped Thundercrash and Typhoon conquer Saint Cyprean and wipe out the Shiksan corps of Ironguard and Soram in one fell swoop.

With Saint Cyprean's fall, the fate of Shiks was sealed in stone. While it still had six standing corps and eight newly formed reserve corps at its southern coasts, they had lost their escape route and supply line. Shiks' supply and ammunition stores at the frontlines weren't enough to last them longer than three months.

This was due to the military organisation of Shiks itself. To effectively control those troops, all supplies and ammunition were to be stored in Saint Cyprean, with supply shipments only made once in two to three months. With the fall of the capital, all those supplies fell into enemy hands. Even if the Shiksans tried to expropriate supplies locally, the eight southern prefectures wouldn't be able to supply enough for so many corps. Hunger alone was enough to doom the Shiksan troops.

Back during the Second Great Eastern Freian War, Aueras' royal capital had been conquered by the Union.. But by then, the Aueran military had left with all the supplies, so they were still able to put up a resistance. Even with them retreating to the three southwestern prefectures, they didn't give up. But this time, the autonomous region's Thundercrash and Typhoon stormed Saint Cyprean immediately, capturing all supplies and top leaders. All the troops at the southern coast wouldn't do much to turn the tables of the situation.

That was why Blancarte was rushing to negotiate with Claude to let the kingdom join the war. After all, they couldn't let the autonomous region steal their thunder and eliminate Shiks, their nemesis, for them. How else would the Auerans be able to hold their heads high against those from the autonomous region?

Even with the king and prime minister clear about the region's intentions and lack of ambition, they still couldn't discount the fact that the region was their biggest threat, especially their three corps. Ever since the formation of Typhoon, it was as if another great force that didn't take the royal court's orders popped up in Eastern Freia.

If the autonomous region eliminated the northern superpower alone, the autonomous region would forever be more glorious than the mainland kingdom itself. The other Freian nations would thus choose to ally with the region rather than the kingdom, and that would be something the king and prime minister couldn't tolerate. No matter what, Blancarte's mission was to make sure they had a piece of the triumph.

Eiblont held a grand military parade in Saint Cyprean to welcome Claude and Avitelli I's arrival. Claude found that the defences of the city were still intact. Upon asking about it, he was told that Typhoon realised that the defences on the walls were undermanned. They had thought it to be some kind of trap initially, only to find out after they breached the gates that the city was indeed not well defended. So, it took them less than half an hour to take all four walls and twelve main gates.

The real problem was how Typhoon fought for five days after breaching the walls before managing to conquer the whole city. The resistance they encountered cost them many casualties. The Shiksan troops left in the city fought to their deaths at the palace before Eiblont finally ordered the rockets to be fired nonstop at the palace where they congregated, reducing a good part of it to rubble. The Shiksan remnants surrendered only thereafter.

"What about Majid III?" Avitelli I asked.

"He's dead," Eiblont said with a shrug, "Don't blame me. I wanted to capture him alive too. But that darned old fart didn't surrender no matter what. I can't let my men die needlessly just to capture him alive, right? So, I used the rockets to bombard his palace and only found half his corpse when we went to scavenge the rubble. He was quite lucky to not have been blasted away by the explosions. Instead, he was crushed in the middle by a falling pillar that split him into two."

Majid III had died just like that; the mastermind that had started the colonial wars died from being crushed by a pillar. It was a little too surreal. Claude felt a sense of loss upon hearing the news. He had run the scenario of him finally meeting the dastardly king face to face too many times just to see his pathetic, defeated look. He didn't think the king would just die in such an unexpected manner.

"Let us go see his corpse then," Claude said.

And so, Eiblont led them to a wood-and-stone building, probably the servants' quarters. The hall they were in was probably where the servants ate their meals. The ground was greasy and the walls were dirty. Within the hall were some 20 coffins. Eiblont said that every noteworthy Shiksan found dead in the palace had been moved there.

"There are three corpses of princes here, two of whom were Majid III's uncles and another being his eighth son. The four corpses over there haven't been recognised yet, but they were dressed in general's attire. Two of them are major-generals, one is a lieutenant-general and the last is a general. The old woman over there was said to have been Majid III's nanny who was given the title of marquise. She was blown to bits by a rocket right beside Majid III.

"This young lass here is Majid III's 17th daughter. She died in her nanny's embrace from a piece of shrapnel that pierced the back of her head. Fortunately, she passed without suffering much pain. That darned old man... I really don't know why he didn't surrender. Will he only be satisfied after everyone around him dies?" Eiblont seemed rather furious, especially with the dead princess who was only around 13 years of age. She could've had a bright future, yet had suffered death thanks to her obstinate father.

Claude finally saw Majid III's corpse. It had been reassembled and covered in a piece of dirty cloth that looked like it was part of a curtain. Had it not been for the golden laces around his collar and sleeves, people would merely take him for an old man in his fifties. However, his expression was harrowing and savage. He looked as if he was shouting something. However, Claude believed that it was merely a cry of pain. He had heard that dying from being snapped in half was one of the worst ways to go.

"When I was 34, I came to Saint Cyprean once," Avitelli I reminisced at the sight of the corpse, "Back then, Shiks was celebrating its 540th anniversary. All vassal nations' leaders were invited to attend. Back then, Majid III looked handsome and dashing and was called the lion king. All the vassal nation leaders were seated at a level lower than his throne, and I was no exception.

"The next year after that, he started the colonial conflict with you folk. We had thought the mighty lion would get what he wanted soon enough. What we didn't expect was that the invincible Shiksan armies in our eyes would actually perform so poorly. Majid III was greatly humiliated by his loss at your hands. After burying 14 of his standing corps in the colonies, he essentially became the butt of our jokes.

"With the end of the colonial conflict, Shiks had been utterly defeated by you from the region. But even so, it is still a towering figure over vassal states like us. We still weren't able to challenge it. By then, Majid III had become a complete tyrant and behaved erratically. Due to the losses in the colonies, he didn't even celebrate the 550th anniversary of the nation's founding. In the next five years, he demanded double the usual tribute from us vassal states.

"It was only after he involved himself in the Second Great Eastern Freian War and was chased out of Eastern Freia by you that I got the notion of allying with you to defeat Shiks and reclaim the lands they took from us. Thank the war god that you didn't disappoint me. Never would I have dreamt I would be looking at Majid III's corpse right in front of me like that. Even if I die now, I can proudly tell my grandfather, father and brothers that the Shiksan king fell at our feet."

After his emotional exchange, he went to take a rest. Claude and Eiblont went on to the field hospital set up in the palace. The place was filled with people. Most of the injured were members of Typhoon, with a few others from Thundercrash.

"We suffered around 14 thousand casualties in the city," Eiblont said with a heavy heart, "That's almost one whole folk of Typhoon. Saint Cyprean is really different from Nasri's capital, Polyvisia. While Nasri is also the nemesis of Aueras, the citizens in Polyvisia aren't that resistant to us. But here, it's completely different. Even after we completely occupied the city, quite a lot of Shiksan civilians still fight us and strike at our patrols when they least expect it."

"How did you guys deal with this?" Claude felt a headache welling up. No matter what, Shiks was the local superpower and their citizens were bound to be proud and patriotic. They didn't fear the occupying Typhoon. Any conqueror would definitely have trouble dealing with the local folk there.

Eiblont shrugged. "What can I do? Pay blood back with blood? We already hang the fighters we catch on the spot. However, only a small number of them get caught, with most of them managing to escape thanks to the citizens' protection."

Claude gave it some thought. "How about this... let Drivick and the four homecoming Shiksan folks deal with security. First, search all households for firearms and ammunition. None of the civilians is to be allowed to have any kind of ranged weapon. Make sure to check for secret pathways or rooms to minimise the odds of us being ambushed.

"We can search one district at a time. Once we finish searching the capital itself, we can expand our sweep to the whole royal territory. First, we'll find a place to keep the resistance fighters imprisoned before dealing with them once the situation stabilises.

"Next, we might have to remain here for a year or two. So, we have to get rid of these belligerent elements soon to make sure our soldiers are safe. In a sense, we are still in enemy territory and have to remain ever vigilant. But don't forget we still have eight folks of Shiksans. They will be our best helpers. While they can't help us in the fight against the other Shiksan standing corps, there isn't a better candidate than them to deal with the resistance fighters."

"Then how should we deal with Shiks in the future? Wipe it out and make it our region's territory?" Eiblont asked.

Claude shook his head helplessly. "To be honest, I'm not sure what we should do at all. Initially, the plan was to defeat Shiks and force Majid III to sign a peace treaty with our kingdom and region. Then, we'll sweep through Shiks and bring the riches back to our region, before transferring the eight homecoming Shiksan folks and their families to our region to deal the crippling blow and ensuring Shiks won't rise to prominence again.

"But now, Majid III has died in combat. Shiks is without a leader. So, who will we get to sign the peace treaty? If Majid III was still alive, we could've forced him to get the six standing corps at the coastal area to surrender. Now, we have no choice but to wipe them out. I think we should deal with the insurgents in the capital and the royal territory first before thinking of what to do next."

Eiblont said apologetically, "It's all my fault for giving the order to bombard the palace and killing this old fart--"

"It's not your fault, it has nothing to do with you!" Claude interrupted, "You did the right thing. Our troops' lives are far more important than this old fart's. We can't sacrifice our men just to capture him alive.

"And given how stubborn he is, there's a chance he might not cooperate with us even if we capture him alive. He'd be better off dead that way anyway. Otherwise, he might even insult us nonstop. He is a king, and if we don't want to willingly become kingslayers, we will have to endure his insults. But now, his death from his own stubbornness saves us the trouble."

Eiblont chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. I admit that I ordered the bombardment because that old fart was cursing us the whole time. I tried to advise them to surrender for the good part of the day, but he began shooting at us with muskets while hiding in his palace. There were still around a hundred guards inside back then. We mounted four charges in an attempt to draw them into melee, but were repelled by the firepower they had inside.

"Back then, the palace entrance and walkway were covered in dead and injured soldiers of ours, with there being almost a hundred dead. I called for them to surrender again, but that darned old man provoked us and said he would kill more of our men the more we sent. I was fuming and immediately gave the order to bombard them. After most of the palace was demolished, the remaining guards surrendered. They were all using revolvers and revolving rifles with similar firepower and range to ours."

Claude looked at the mostly destroyed palace. It was indeed as Eiblont said. If they didn't choose bombardment, the only way to approach was to use a charge. The palace was mostly built of wood and stone, with there being some granite on the outside and a keep within. Outside the palace was a beautiful piece of flat land with grass and flowers. There was nowhere any soldier could use as cover, and charging through it would essentially make one target practice for the guards within. Under such circumstances, Claude would opt to use the rockets as well.

"Alright, Drivick and the four Shiksan folks will be reaching the capital this afternoon. Have a chat with him during the evening and start checking tomorrow in the capital. I will be commanding Thundercrash and the two Bleyottean mountain corps to deal with the eight Shiksan standing corps at the southern coast," Claude said.

Chapter 563 - Strategic Analysis and Delegation

"Our scouts report that the Shiksan corps Clyde and Jeska are working together with the nobles, local garrison forces and officials of the coastal prefectures of Bengla and Fedkans. They are currently evacuating everyone there to the western prefecture of Kelwok." Borkal drew a red line on the map to mark the evacuation route.

"How many men do they have in total?" Avitelli I asked.

Borkal glanced at the folder in his hand. "The two corps have 136 thousand men and the local forces are four lines of 20 thousand strong. The families of the nobles and officials that are evacuating and others accompanying them number around 20 thousand. We believe they're heading for the northwestern highland prefectures. That area is the territory of Duke Pillag Xi Feriot of the northern lands."

"Duke Pillag Xi Feriot? This name sounds familiar," Claude mused, "Does the duke's territory encompass all four of those prefectures? He must be quite a powerful one in Shiks then."

"Lord Militant, Duke Pillag Xi Feriot is indeed someone you know," Borkal said, "During the Second Great Eastern Freian War, he was the commander-in-chief of the Union's army. When he saw that things were turning south in the Battle of Polyvisia, he took the mounts of the three Canasian light-cavalry folks from their camp and fled with some 100 thousand injured Shiksan soldiers and remnants back to Shiks. He was relieved of his position of Lord Militant by Majid III due to retreating without a fight.

"The duke has a great reputation in Shiks. Of the four northwestern highland prefectures, the three apart from Welmouth were conquered and taken from the highland barbarians thanks to the duke's efforts. As those three prefectures are often pillaged by barbarians, the royal court couldn't enfeoff the lands there to other nobles. So, they had no choice but to put them in the care of the duke. All four of those prefectures are within the duke's sphere of influence.

"Clyde and Jesca's corpsmen, General Hamons and General Tolmak, served under Duke Feriot during the war. During their retreat, one of the two generals was injured and the other took care of logistics.

"As Duke Feriot bore all responsibility for the retreat, his subordinates weren't punished. The two generals are really thankful to the duke for that. That is the reason our department of intelligence came to the conclusion that the two corps are heading for those four prefectures."

"Can we stop them?" Avitelli I asked.

Borkal gave the king a troubled look. "It's not like we can't. If we have Thundercrash pursue them, we can delay their journey and force them to stop and defend their ground. Then, we can send Bleyotte's three corps to encircle them before launching our attack. As long as we take a certain number of casualties, we'll be able to defeat those two corps and capture the ones they're escorting.

"The issue is if we pursue them, we'll give the other four Shiksan corps a chance. If those four corps get to know that we're pursuing Jesca and Clyde, they'll definitely come to attack the capital."

"Let them go, then," Claude said with his eyes on the map, "Since they've left the battlefield, we can ignore them for now. Their departure greatly cuts down on the number of enemies we have to face. I have to admit that Clyde and Jesca's corpsmen are really smart and chose a path to life.

"Backle and Blus are currently stationed in Skovia, a prefecture neighbouring Dademoss. They are two days slower than Soram. I believe those two corps received an urgent call for help from the royal capital and rushed back immediately, only to find Soram completely eliminated when they reached Skovia and heard about the death of their king, falling into a dilemma as a result.

"Backle's corpsman is the third son of Majid III, Lieutenant-General Mondocarlo Dar Shiks. He's the one with most military talent among the king's 19 sons and daughters and had suppressed many a noble revolt. Being a cruel sadist, he loves to cook captives alive in boiling oil. That's why he has the worst reputation among the military of the kingdom. Quite a number of officers believe he doesn't have the bearing fit for a king.

"The corpsman of Blus is Marquis Vincebard, a major-general. He's a distant relative of the Shiksan royal family, with his aunt marrying Prince Sriheim, Majid III's younger brother. Marquis Vincebard used that connection to shoot up the ranks in the military and eventually became major-general and corpsman of Blus. His performance is nothing out of the ordinary, and his only good point is his obedience. He follows his superiors' orders to the letter.

"Currently, Backle and Blus are defending Skovia and rallying the reserve corps in the neighbouring prefectures. They are also expropriating supplies. Three reserve corps have already reached their camp and they have a combined force of around 350 thousand. According to captive testimonies, Mondocarlo requested Clyde and Jesca and the two standing corps stationed in Manori Plains to group together."

Borkal pointed at the path travelled by Clyde and Jesca. "It's obvious that these two corps refused to obey Mondocarlo's orders. Instead, they found a path to escape for themselves and chose to avoid conflict with us. As for Manori Plains' two standing corps, Dakhli and Farklin, they didn't obey the prince's orders either and started building defences at the entrance of the mountain pass towards Port Patkara. It seems like they're going to defend their ground--"

Avitelli I interrupted, "Dakhli is a corps local to the three prefectures of Manori Plains, with most of their soldiers being recruited there. Strictly speaking, they are Bleyotteans. But the three prefectures in Manori have been ceded to Shiks for more than three decades. I'm not sure if the people there still consider themselves one of us."

Claude looked at the crestfallen king and consoled, "I believe the older ones will remember the past. You mentioned the people there were really resistant to the idea of being ceded over, and the Shiksan occupying forces killed many locals back then. It's not a grudge that will easily be forgotten.

"The fact that they didn't heed the prince's rallying cry and started to build defences at the pass instead shows that they don't want to fight for Shiks. Instead, they're just trying to defend their homes. Perhaps you can send an ambassador to get in touch with them. They might love the chance to return to being Bleyotteans."

The king nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll send someone to negotiate with them. If they are willing to return and accept peace, it would be ideal."

"Then, we only have to deal with the troops gathered in Skovia, then. There are 350 thousand men that make up the two Shiksan standing corps and three reserve corps," Claude said, "Borkal, tell me about the state of the prefecture."

"Yes, Lord Militant." Borkal got his subordinates to hang up a detailed map of Skovia. "Skovia is a prefecture with mountains and plains with two main rivers. There are three cities, eight towns and 68 villages there in total. It is a territory ruled directly by the Shiksan royal family and their population number 740 thousand in total. The capital city, Scannamo, is located at Glow River. That is where Prince Mondocarlo's main camp is located.

"The prince has Backle stationed at Scannamo and set up a defence line along Glow River. Marquis Vincebard's Blus, on the other hand, is stationed at the mountain city of Sidbos in Tenor Forests, which is in line with Glow River. Between those two locations is where the town of Cepol is located. That's where the reserve corps from the prefecture of Cadmus is stationed.

"There are four other towns ahead of the defence line. The reserve corps from Ridleys split four ways to guard those towns. Prince Mondocarlo probably wants to use them as vanguard and alarm bases. However, the other four standing corps didn't respond to his order to rally up, so he had no choice but to switch to defence instead of marching towards Dademoss to attack Thundercrash.

"Behind the prince's defence line is the city of Langlis that's being used as the main supply base for all those troops. The reserve corps from the prefecture of Sadkobo is stationed to guard the supplies there. According to more captive testimonies, two more reserve corps from Lonwayork and Drizink will be going there to reinforce them."

After Borkal's briefing, he had his subordinates mark the towns mentioned in the testimonies. Claude looked at the map and shook his head with a smile. He turned to the high-ranking officers in the tent. "We can conclude based on their troop layout that Prince Mondocarlo isn't a very experienced military leader at all."

He pointed at Scannamo and continued, "General Berklin, if you're on defence, how would you handle deployment in the area from Scannamo to Sidbos?"

General Beck of the two Bleyottean mountain corps was none other than the disguised Berklin. He had successfully fooled the Shiksan officials that came to escort him, the two Bleyottean corps and Thundercrash 1st and 2nd Folks into Dademoss. There, they expropriated supplies and hung the Shiksan officials that escorted them, sending the prefecture into chaos.

Thanks to his magnificent performance, Shiks' kingdom officials didn't notice anything amiss at all. They only declared the Bleyottean troops traitor after all resources were expropriated and hurriedly sent Soram to kill off all the mountain monkeys that dared mess with them.

The troops of Soram were in such a rush that they didn't bother to send scouts, only to run into a trap. It was only after suffering heavy losses that they noticed something amiss, but there was no longer a chance for regret. Berklin led Thundercrash's two folks to bombard their flanks the next morning, eliminating the Shiksan corps before they even managed to set up camp and take cover.

Berklin knew Claude was trying to test his military acuity. He went to the map to give a careful look to the layout of the defences, before confidently saying, "If I were the commander, I would focus my troops at the town of Cenpal, as that is the centre of the defence line. I don't understand why the prince stationed his standing corps at Scannamo instead. If Cenpal is conquered, Backle would have nowhere else to escape unless they can retreat across Glow River.

Borkal took out his file on Glow Lake. "The river has an average width of 60 metres, with the widest point stretching up to 200 metres. Its depth is around 12 metres, making it the largest river in Skovia. Scannamo is located near the widest part of the river that ranges from 100 to 200 metres wide. It's so large the part is known as Glow Lake. That part of the river is calm as a mirror. The scenery there is magnificent to behold, especially during sunrise and sunset.

"Glow River can basically only be crossed with a ferry. There are no bridges built across it, with there being only two crossing docks at Scannamo, each able to accommodate up to two man-powered ferries. It takes half an hour or so to cross one time and each ferry can only hold up to 50 passengers per trip. Additionally, there are 32 fishing boats that can carry five to eight men at most."

Berklin nodded to Borkal. "Backle didn't build any bridges across the river near Scannamo either. In other words, as long as we take Cenpal and cut off the land route towards Scannamo and send a line of troops to the other side of Glow River, that prince will have nowhere to run.

"If I were in charge of deployment, I would focus my defences at Cenpal. Scannamo and Sidbos each only have to be defended by a reserve corps. The two standing corps will be stationed at the front and back of Cenpal instead to facilitate quick reinforcements. That way, they'd be able to hold us off for more than a month."

"What about the four towns ahead of the defence line?" Claude asked.

"There's no need to station any troops there. I would evacuate all the residents, including the villagers in nearby areas. Then, I'd burn the towns and villages down so the enemy doesn't get to take advantage of them. They'd only be able to find rest by setting up camp in the wilderness."

A smile surfaced on Claude's face. "A rather decent answer. Our enemy hasn't undertaken scorched earth because they still hold the delusion of reclaiming Saint Cyprean. That's why they stationed garrison troops at the four towns. That way, they'd be able to supply their troops once enough of them gather for a counterattack. Since you've already understood the weaknesses of their defence, I'll leave Thundercrash's attack to you.

"You and Dyavid will take the four folks of Thundercrash to sweep the four towns in front, Cenpal and Langlis clean. As for Blus at Sidbos and Backle at Scannamo, you only have to hold them there. Don't take the initiative to attack them to prevent unnecessary casualties, understood?"

Berklin and Dyavid saluted. "Yes, Lord Militant. We know what to do."

Seeing the two leave excitedly with the officers of the four folks, Avitelli I got anxious. "Lord Militant, you have to give the three corps of Bleyotte something to do. You can't expect them to watch Thundercrash steal all the glory, right?"

Claude laughed as he waved. "My friend, don't worry. Your Bleyottean warriors will have a chance to shine. Thundercrash is a light-cavalry corps, so their specialty is speed and penetration. Just look. Sidbos, where Blus is stationed, is very mountainous. It's perfect for your mountain corps. I will leave you to besiege this city. I trust you'll be able to take it swiftly."

Chapter 564 - Blancarte's Suggestion

"Lord Militant, this is an eagle message we just received from General Berklin," a captain from the department of communications said as he handed Claude a grey strip of paper.

Claude took a look and saw only two words: unhindered advance. It appeared that it was going rather well with Thundercrash. Berklin wouldn't be so boastful otherwise.

Currently, Claude was leading Thundercrash and Bleyotte's three mountain corps towards Skovia. Having been used to travelling with fast light-cavalry units, having to slow down to match the pace of an infantry corps made him feel like he was travelling like a snail.

The four main combat folks of Thundercrash had begun their attacks on the enemy defences. However, the three mountain corps were still slowly lagging behind. It was already pretty impressive for all 180 thousand men to be able to travel 15 kilometres within a day. The past two days, they only managed ten kilometres. It seemed that they would take at least half a month to reach Sidbos.

It wasn't something unexpected, however. Avitelli I embarrassingly explained to Claude that his troops would usually only be able to travel some 25 kilometres in the mountains each day, yet all the unexpected complications they ran into on flat land slowed them down. Initially, most of the troops travelled by flat carts. So, they were able to make it to the royal territory within a little more than ten days. However, those carts were now being used for logistics and supplies. Their speed slowed the moment they started to march on their own two feet.

"They fail when it comes to organisation and discipline!" That was Borkal's comment on the three mountain corps, highlighting their fatal flaws without wasting words.

Monolith was also an infantry corps, but they would be able to march up to 30 kilometres each day, 40 if they were travelling at an urgent pace. However, the troops of Monolith were professional soldiers that received far better training than most other armies in Freia. Bleyotte's troops were more aligned with the standard expected of Freian soldiers.

They probably got up slowly in the morning at seven and prepared breakfast at an easygoing pace, probably having black bread with soup or some kind of gruel. Only after all that would they pack up their camp. By the time they were ready to move, it was already nine or ten, and they only moved when their officers beckoned them loudly. They didn't maintain any strict rank and file, merely swarming together wherever the crowd was. When their mood was good, they might sing a few local folk songs, and when it wasn't, they would complain and find a place to sit or loiter about. Those sights were the norm rather than the exception.

And whenever that happened, the officers didn't really care to discipline them either as long as they were able to join up with the rest of the unit come nighttime. Borkal had told Claude that among the three Bleyottean corps, it wasn't uncommon to see fathers and sons being in the same units. In fact, family members and friends were usually grouped together to maintain combat ability. However, their discipline suffered as a result as they were usually tight-knit groups. Punishing one of them might earn the ire of the whole group.

Even so, it wasn't that they weren't capable at combat at all. Soldiers like those shone when they were fighting in a frenzy or when they held the momentum in battle. However, they would completely crumble when faced with professional armies like Thundercrash and Monolith. That was the reason Bleyotte was helpless to resist Shiks. Even if Shiks' military might wasn't nearly that of the region's, they were more than capable of keeping Bleyotte in check.

Avitelli I and his adjutant, Prince Iksdor, were really envious of Thundercrash's absolute discipline. They hoped to be able to make reforms in their own armies to achieve the same standard as well. So, Claude decided to help them out with it and reorganised the three Bleyottean corps when they were stopped at the Skovian border.

Though, it wasn't like he could continue to advance anyway. Apart from helping reorganise the Bleyottean corps, he also had to accommodate Blancarte, who had finally arrived to discuss the matter of letting Aueras take part in the battles. The 20-odd-day journey was so taxing on him that he immediately went to sleep after greeting Claude, much to the latter's flabbergastment.

Blancarte slept a whole 14 hours. By the time he woke up the next day, it was already the evening. He immediately requested to meet Claude the moment he woke up and feasted away in Claude's tent before telling him the reason he came. Blancarte wanted the kingdom's troops to at least show up at the Shiksan border during those battles.

Reddragon, stationed in the Nasrian region, had made preparations to depart. They would only need half a month to enter Shiksan borders. Naturally, they would obey Claude's orders, but Blancarte hoped he would have Reddragon defend Saint Cyprean instead. That way, they would actually play a role in the war instead of cheering from the sidelines.

Claude couldn't be happier to let the kingdom stick its hands into the war. Currently, apart from Monolith and Typhoon, he only had one and a half corps of the allied nobles' troops and the three Bleyottean mountain corps. Putting aside whether the nobles' troops were capable in combat, he was even suspect of the Bleyottean corps' reliability when push came to shove.

As for the eight homecoming Shiksan folks, they were at least usable for maintaining local order. However, their main task this time around was to pick their families up to move back to the autonomous region. Claude doubted that the Shiksan captives would actually be able to maintain their ability to fight if they were used in the vanguard in their own home.

The region was the invader, after all, and the Shiksan folks were collaborationist units. Claude didn't have to be a genius to figure out how capable they were in a real fight. Even after the region offered them a chance to move to Nubissia with their families with no caveats, Claude still suspected some of the Shiksans wouldn't carry out any combat assignment they were given in earnest and ruin their plans.

Shiks was incredibly large and had 53 prefectures and a royal territory. Being a superpower in Northern Freia, they only suffered so badly during this war because the king and ministers fell for a carefully crafted plan by the region. Their capital was quickly surrounded and conquered without them noticing, leaving no avenue for any of them to escape.

As the fall of Saint Cyprean was too swift, Shiks was now a leaderless force. The many prefectures across the kingdom still weren't able to react in time. The only reason Claude got Eiblont to bring Typhoon and four of the Shiksan folks to conduct a thorough search through Saint Cyprean while he led Thundercrash to the southern coasts to attack the Shiksan troops that gathered there was to take advantage of the window when the enemy still hadn't been able to react to thin down their forces and reduce the threat they posed.

The insurgent groups in Saint Cyprean had to be wiped out as soon as possible to prevent them from inciting the other civilians across the kingdom to revolt. Exterminating the rest of the Shiksan forces in the south would also make a resounding example of them to discourage any resistance from the other prefectures.

The four prefectures between Bleyotte and the royal capital were controlled by the homecoming Shiksan folks. Beyond that were the royal territory and the capital itself. Only after its fall did the four other homecoming Shiksan folks come in to purge the insurgents.

Apart from that, there was Dademoss, which was completely swept clean by Thundercrash, and Skovia, which they were currently attacking. Of the 53 prefectures and the royal territory, Claude could only confidently claim to control those six prefectures and the royal territory. However, he gave up on Dademoss after it was scraped clean. As for Skovia, who knew how it would turn out after all the fighting?

As such, he couldn't be happier to let Blancarte and the kingdom get involved, especially now that Reddragon was armed with the new Sonia 591s and boasted far greater combat power, not to mention they were willing to follow his orders. Lacking in troops as he was now, Reddragon would be a great help to him, especially with defence.

However, Claude immediately refused Blancarte's request to let Reddragon defend Saint Cyprean. It wasn't even a laughing matter. Claude smirked and thought that they were the ones who did all the work purging the insurgents. They hadn't even gone through the wealth of the city yet, so there was no way they would be sharing that juicy a piece of meat.

After Typhoon occupied Saint Cyprean, the wealth they got from the royal treasury alone amounted to 17 million crowns in worth, and that wasn't inclusive of the goods they confiscated from the national treasury. It was no wonder Majid III still had the financial means to continue fighting despite losing the colonial wars time and again. Claude really picked the right target to rob this time.

Blancarte wasn't flustered about the rejection either. He then asked where Claude planned to station them. Claude opened a map of Shiks and briefed the prime minister on the current state of affairs. The allied army formed by Duke Reddragon and Marquis Griffon had three folks and around 100 thousand men. They took over the ten western prefectures defended by nobody else but local garrisons. As for the eleven northern prefectures, nine eastern prefectures, eight southern prefectures and fifteen central prefectures, they still needed a large number of troops to clear those out. Reddragon was free to pick its own target.

Claude's Thundercrash and the three Bleyottean mountain corps, on the other hand, would be heading to the eight southern prefectures at the coastal area to deal with the remaining Shiksan standing corps and take a few port cities while they were at it. The eight homecoming Shiksan folks would need to have access to ports to be able to send their families back to the region, after all.

Since the allied noble army had picked the ten western prefectures, Blancarte decided to have Reddragon take the eleven northern prefectures after much deliberation. Of the nine eastern prefectures and fifteen central prefectures, the two homecoming Shiksan folks under Claude's control already occupied them. Not to mention, Claude was going to target the eight southern prefectures next. So, Blancarte decided to go for the north for Reddragon to have the whole place to itself.

After some hesitation, Claude shook his head to advise Blancarte to rethink his choice. There were too many variables in that area. If possible, the region might even give up on the eleven northern prefectures entirely as Duke Pillag Xi Feriot was there. Two Shiksan standing corps were on their way to rally there.

"I heard Duke Feriot has another corps of 50 thousand men from the border guard. They are House Feriot's private troops and are stationed at the four northern border prefectures, so they're constantly fighting against the highland barbarians. There's no doubt that they're incredibly powerful," Claude said, pointing at the map.

"Currently, the two corps heading there, Jesca and Clyde, and the various local garrison forces, easily number close to 500 thousand. Eight of the eleven northern prefectures are also highlands that are hard for us to traverse. As such, I hope the Duke of the Northlands here stays put and doesn't dip his toes into the chaotic Shiksan front now."

Blancarte only came to realise the duke's threat, since he was someone that even Claude had to be careful of. Claude didn't bother to hide anything either and directly told the prime minister that Duke Feriot was the commander-in-chief of the Union's army during the Second Great Eastern Freian War.

He was the one who took 100 thousand injured Shiksan troops and left when he noticed the situation in Polyvisia to be off and managed to evade Thundercrash's pursuit as a result, depriving Claude of a complete victory. While Claude wasn't afraid of facing the duke once more in battle, he just couldn't be bothered to spare that effort. His current priority was to wrap up his swift victory and figure out how to deal with the duke in the northern prefectures after everything settled down.

"I would suggest letting Reddragon sweep through the ten remaining prefectures in the central area. Typhoon needs to weed out the insurgents in Saint Cyprean and the royal territory and the situation there wouldn't be stabilised until at least three months later. Reddragon can sweep through the prefectures we can't divert any forces to deal with. If there are any emergencies, you can even request Typhoon to help out," Claude said.

After some consideration, Blancarte nodded to the suggestion. However, he followed it up with another question. "Does the region have any plans for Shiks' future, now that Majid III is dead?"

Claude shook his head. What he was currently worried about was stabilising the current status quo and getting the homecoming Shiksans to move to the region with their families before transporting all the wealth they got from Shiks to Northbay. He didn't really care who cleaned up the mess he created. Either way, Shiks wouldn't be able to recover from that blow without at least two to three decades. It would no longer be able to threaten the region and Aueras any longer.

Blancarte, however, laughed. While he wasn't Claude's match in military matters, he had far more experience in administrative ones. The way he saw it, Claude's plan was a little too naive, much like a spoiled brat that didn't clean up the mess he caused only to learn his lesson after a harsh scolding from his parents.

"Why don't you think about fragmenting Shiks?" Blancarte said with a hint of laughter, "For instance, the Duke of the Northlands you brought up. Maybe we can get him to found his own duchy in the north. Additionally, the vassal nations that neighbour Shiks can all come in to reclaim their former territories. Since you can let Bleyotte reclaim their four prefectures, there's no harm in letting the other nations take back their lands from the Shiksan borders too.

"That way, Shiks' sphere of influence will be greatly reduced. The central and southern prefectures, on the other hand, can be used to elevate the few Shiksan nobles that collaborate with you. Let them get a foothold in these areas and perhaps have them found their own independent nation or something. That way, even if all the troops from the region retreat from Shiks, the chaos here won't ever stop.

"As long as the local powers continue to squabble with each other, they won't pose a threat to us or the region. In fact, they might have to rely on your forces to rein in the other factions. It's a far better solution than just taking what you want and leaving. That will only make many enemies among the Shiksan for the region. Going about it my way, on the other hand, will cause the Shiksan public to shift their hate on the Shiksan separatists."

Claude scratched his forehead shyly. He had been in the military for so long that he had forgotten the wisdom of his ancestors from his past life, such as the Thirty-Six Stratagems, Art of War and so on. There were too many recorded examples to deal with the current state of affairs, yet all he could think of was to take everything and leave. Without Blancarte's reminder, he might not even have thought about it.

Chapter 565 - Change of the Homecoming Shiksans

The cold winds blew as snow scattered all across the gloomy skies onto the burnt and destroyed houses. One after another, the corpses of the soldiers of Backle were hauled and piled up in the plaza. Soon, they were covered in a thin sheet of snow. There were more than ten such snow piles in the plaza, all of them sacrificed soldiers from yesterday's battle. The stain of blood could still be seen on the snowy ground.

Claude led the Bleyottean corps to conquer the capital of Skovia, Scannamo, and stopped at the pile of corpses in front of the city hall. Compared to the corpses on the plaza, the corpses here were given far better treatment. At least, they were covered in a thin, grey sheet.

"This is the corpsman of Backle, Prince Mondocarlo Dar Shiks himself," the bearded Bleyottean officer said with his finger pointing at the corpse clad in lieutenant-general uniform. "His guards launched a final charge against us before being completely fell. When we went forward to check, we saw his rank and got a few other captives to confirm that he is indeed the prince."

"At least he was brave and died in a charge. This uniform wasn't wasted on him. He didn't shame us soldiers," Claude mused, "But he's not a qualified leader. He's stupid enough to trap himself in a deathly predicament with no escape, thinking that glory alone will be a shield good enough to protect him. He didn't think that shield of glory would keep themselves in as much as it would keep enemies out."

It was the 11th of the 12th month. The Battle of Skovia ended in the early hours of dawn. Thundercrash and the three Bleyottean corps had fought a long month there. Using Thundercrash's mobility to breach the enemy defences, they finally sectioned off the enemy into multiple parts of the city. When the Bleyotteans caught up and used their cannons to launch a bombardment on the city, wiping out all 350 thousand troops from Backle and Blus in one go.

Dyavid was the one who led a surprise attack with Thundercrash 3rd Folk and Bleyotte 1st Mountain Corps. The demoralised soldiers of Backle crumbled and quickly surrendered. When the attackers came to their main camp at Scannamo, the battle turned intense. In the end, Dyavid used up to a hundred new light-infantry cannons for a bombardment that lasted more than an hour, almost levelling the entire city hall, before finally conquering the final stronghold of the enemy.

"We finally captured around 200 thousand enemies. There were some 110 thousand enemies that were hurt or killed, while we suffered 60 thousand casualties as a whole. Thundercrash's casualty count is around eight thousand, whereas the three Bleyottean mountain corps suffered near 54 thousand casualties," Captain Fachselin reported.

It was worth noting that most of the casualties taken by the Bleyotteans occurred during the conquest of Sidbos, numbering around 43 thousand. They lost about one man for every enemy. Even after Claude had sent his cannoneers to aid them, the Bleyotteans who charged like madmen didn't cooperate well with them and suffered many casualties as a result.

As Such, Claude had Dyavid and 3rd Folk be the vanguard of last night's attack while Bleyotte 1st Mountain Corps merely played an auxiliary role. He wanted to show those simplistic mountaineers how to siege a city while suffering low numbers of casualties. However, the results seemed to be rather unsuccessful. Instead, the Bleyotteans thought of it as a competition and lost around ten thousand men.

It seemed that the reorganisation half a month ago didn't achieve much. The reorganisation of Bleyotte's three mountain corps mainly eliminated the weak and picked out the strong. The elite troops were formed into 1st and 2nd Mountain Corps. The rest, and the aged veterans, were sent to the 3rd to take care of logistics. While the discipline of 1st and 2nd Mountain Corps was slightly improved, they were still brash and reckless and required long-term tactical training to polish.

The conquest of Scannamo meant that the Shiksan standing corps, Backle and Blus, were eliminated. In other words, five of the eight southern coastal prefectures were undefended. All that was left was Dakhli and Farklin, that were stationed in the three prefectures on Manori Plains.

The winter of Year 604 was extremely hard on the Shiksans. Five of the eight southern coastal prefectures had fallen into the hands of the Aueran Autonomous Region. Thundercrash entered those prefectures as if the borders weren't present at all and caught all the nobles and officials and their families within, confiscating all their property in the meantime.

The invaders caused even more commotion in Saint Cyprean and the royal territory. Countless patriots were either captured or killed. What angered the Shiksan public the most was how their former troops who were sent to Nubissia actually turned tail and joined the invaders as collaborators. They were even more hated than the officers of Typhoon.

Harm was only done when one could see how well others were treated. It was natural for Typhoon, an invader corps, to scour the royal capital for wealth. However, why did the homecoming Shiksan troops and their families get special treatment? The men conscripted to join the expedition to the region were the lowest of the lowest in Shiks. That was why nobody bothered asking about them after their humiliating defeat. Nobody cared about how the lowest of their society was doing.

It was no surprise that war would disrupt the normal running of social order. The near million citizens of Saint Cyprean had been counting on the various orchards and farmsteads in the area as well as supplies from various parts of the kingdom for food. But following the fall of Saint Cyprean, the supply of food became a huge problem. Even though the invaders wouldn't intentionally disrupt civilian trade, there was no avoiding taxes and checks.

The supply of food in Saint Cyprean immediately tightened, causing prices to shoot sky-high. Quite a number of citizens were forced to leave their homes to other prefectures to rely on their relatives and friends there. Despite that, the families and soldiers of the four homecoming Shiksan folks got extremely good treatment. They even occupied a large area in the noble residence sector and the royal plaza. Camps were set up there and supplies were provided for free, paid for by the wealth from the Shiksan national treasury.

To the citizens of Saint Cyprean, the cannon fodder that had returned were the lowest rung of society. High-status civilians like them usually didn't even bat an eye at them. Yet, the normal civilians were suddenly turned into the poorest in the city, scrambling for many crucial supplies they needed. They even needed to line up for two hours just to buy bread. Yet, the scum of society got to reunite with their families and enjoy fine treatment in the residence sectors. The citizens of the city began to hate the traitorous Shiksan scum.

What shocked Eiblont was following the arrival of the homecoming Shiksans and their families, the attacks against Typhoon's troops greatly decreased. Instead, terror attacks at the camps of the homecoming Shiksans greatly increased. Within two short months, up to a hundred people from the camps were harmed from those attacks.

Consequently, the homecoming Shiksan officers grew more and more savage in their retaliatory arrests and searches. To get more leads to find the masterminds of those attacks, they would even torture the attackers they took captive to death.

The troops of the homecoming Shiksans were far crueler than the time they first came to the city. The way they saw it, the citizens of Saint Cyprean were already their enemy, not their fellow countrymen. Anyone that dared disrupt their blissful lives was an enemy undeserving of even a drop of mercy.

The informants of the department of intelligence planted among the homecoming Shiksan troops reported that most of the troops recruited into the corps to be sent to Nubissia were lowly farmers and subjects of nobles. They were of low status and most of them were discriminated against by the free men of Shiks. Nobody held them in any regard.

Even after they lost the war and became captive labourers, they were treated far better than they were in Shiks. As long as they worked hard to earn their keep, they would be given sufficient basic necessities like filling meals and warm clothes. They could even receive small salaries and bonuses, which they could save up to use for themselves. If they were willing to learn, reading lessons were provided in the labour camps, something they would never be able to get working under the nobles of their own nation.

As such, once they served their labour terms, the captives lived rather decent lives in the region. There, they were truly free. They earned a salary for their work and were treated the same as other citizens of the region. The only difference was that they weren't settlers and couldn't receive the benefits and property that came with being a settler. As such most of the 300 thousand captives wanted to settle down in the region for good. As for the rest, it wasn't that they didn't wish for the same. Instead, they wanted to reunite with their families in Shiks.

And now, they were finally given that chance thanks to the region forming eight homecoming Shiksan folks that were sent to Shiks to bring their families back to the region. After that, they would be given the same rights as Aueran settlers and could settle down for a blissful, new life.

That came as great news to the Shiksan captives, who jumped to sign up. Even the ones that didn't make the cut asked their comrades to bring their families back for them. The region also generously allowed those that didn't get picked to join the folks to sign up for eventually bringing their families over, with all fees covered by the region.

When the troops of the eight Shiksan folks stepped into their homeland, they felt really conflicted. They felt both elation and fear. No matter what, traitors were still traitors. The four folks were ordered to sweep Saint Cyprean clean initially, but they failed miserably.  It even seemed like some were being intentionally retarded.

That was when the informants planted in the folks reported one such incident. A band of homecoming Shiksan soldiers were tasked to search incoming carriages and convoys for weapons at a stone bridge near the city. During their search, one Shiksan noblewoman cursed them to be traitor scum. The band of Shiksans were so guilty and embarrassed they didn't carry out their search properly and let the carriage across the river.

That wasn't the only instance. Most of the troops in the four folks behaved similarly. As they said themselves, Saint Cyprean was the pride and joy of all Shiksans, and people of low status like themselves had no chance to visit that mighty city. When they came, they were filled with a sense of fear and inferiority, constantly thinking that the citizens of Saint Cyprean were far more deserving and noble than them. They were in positions the homecoming troops could only dream to reach.

However, Eiblont didn't punish them because of that. Instead, he kept his promise and allowed them to collect their family members and allowed them to live into a large residential sector, providing them with plentiful supplies to boot and allowing them to have a grand reunion with their families to boost their morale.

Little did he know that prompted even more hate from the citizens of the city, who changed the target of their attacks to the residential sector. They declared they would let the Shiksan traitors suffer the same pain of losing their families and friends as the price they had to pay for betraying their nation. So, the relatives of the soldiers that went out shopping became the targets of those attacks. They were beaten up, robbed, cursed, and many attacks were carried out throughout the residential sector with explosives. Tens of people were harmed or killed from the outbreak.

The insurgents were painfully unaware of the consequences of their actions. They gleefully attacked the homecoming Shiksans to vent their anger and hate. Back in the region, nobody would be able to disrupt their blissful lives. Only there could they live like respectable men rather than lowly serfs.

Had the homecoming soldiers been the target of those attacks, they would've taken it. They saw themselves as Shiksans at the end of the day and felt guilty about helping the region attack their own homeland. Casualties from civilian backlash were only natural, and their deaths or injuries would be compensated for by pensions. Their families would be able to move to the region and live peacefully all the same. That alone made their sacrifice worth it.

But attacking their families struck a nerve in the homecoming troops. Right before they were about to emigrate to the region, their families came under attack. It was a horrid and unforgivable sin. That was when they no longer saw themselves as Shiksans, but rather, one of the autonomous region, and began to proactively weed out the insurgents and shooting them dead publicly on the streets when they found them.

The Shiksans had kept silent when cursed as traitors when they had first returned from Saint Cyprean, but nowadays people who cursed them were beaten up without ceremony. In fact, they were lucky if that was all that happened to them.

There was a small-time noble that recognised a few soldiers for being his farm serfs and subjects and immediately cursed at them publicly. That brave noble was immediately skewered by bayonets and hung from the streets alive.

After he died, the former serfs even spat at their former master's corpse. They said that when they were fighting to their deaths for their country, their master actually chased their families out of his castle because the elderly and weak were merely a burden, now that they weren't supported by the young men who were drafted away. Their families had to beg for scraps around the dominion, suffering hunger and humiliation, while the captured Shiksans worked away as labourers without their noble master batting a single eyelid. What else should they do other than kill such a master?

Many similar incidents happened all across the city. Lucky soldiers were able to find their families, others either had some or all their families dying during their absence. As more and more soldiers joined up with their family members, they slowly began to think of the region as their real home, willing to fight and die for it to their last breath.

Chapter 566 - Claude's Headache

It was in the 3rd month of Year 905 when Claude received three pieces of news, two good, one bad. The good news was the two Shiksan standing corps stationed at the pass leading to Manori Plains, Dakhli and Farklin, had surrendered and handed over the three prefectures of Kangna, Patkara, and Manori. All eight southern coastal prefectures were now in the region's hands.

All five of the port cities could now be opened. The eight homecoming Shiksan folks in the capital finally had a safe path through which to send their families to the region. They would sail on transport ships to Northbay before heading to Nubissia.

According to the agreement with Bleyotte; Kanga, Patkara, and Manori would be returned to them. Claude had chosen Port Patkara as the place from which the Shiksans would depart for the region.

King Avitelli I's successful persuasion of Dakhli and Farklin to surrender played a massive role. Dakhli had been formed in the Manori Plains in the first place. Most of the troops were locals and their fathers still recalled the days they were under Bleyottean rule. So the ambassador Avitelli I sent had great success. In the end, the king himself made a risky visit to convince most of the soldiers in Dakhli to turn to his side.

Farklin was without an ally. Fearing Thundercrash and the three Bleyottean corps, and having only 60 thousand men against their enemies' 350 thousand, not to mention the good relationship the Dakhli and Farklin corpsmen had with one another, Farklin's corpsman was convinced to surrender given the assurance that his subordinates' lives would be spared.

Eiblont sent more good news from the Shiksan capital. Typhoon and the four homecoming Shiksan folks had put some 270 thousand insurgents to the sword over the last months. They'd only suffered some six thousand losses in return.

Saint Cyprean was a safe holding now. The city had calmed and a sense of normalcy had returned to its streets. While malcontents could still be hiding in the dark alleyways of the city, they had neither the support from the general population nor the backing of outside forces to be a serious threat.

On the flip side, they had confiscated 30 million crowns' worth of goods. As expected of the northern superpower, the royal treasury's spoils alone were well over their 50-million-crown target. Eiblont believed they might as well raid the royal family's lands as a whole.

Even so, their monetary gains were only one of the factors behind their invasion, and not the main one. The main goal was to get the eight homecoming folks and their families. Manpower was the greatest wealth to the region which so sorely lacked it.

The region had estimated they could get some three million new heads if every soldier had six family members, which was a very reasonable average. They'd thoroughly overshot their estimate. The 40 thousand former Shiksan soldiers currently in Saint Cyprean alone had brought along 600 thousand family members, more than double their original estimate.

The homecoming Shiksans were supposedly the lowest rung of Shiksan society in the first place. Had the colonial wars been successful, they would be the ones settling down in the colonies as farm serfs and feudal subjects and their lives wouldn't have changed. However, Shiks failed and the soldiers ended up becoming captive labourers for the region. Now that the region allowed them to immigrate, it was a huge opportunity to climb the social ladder.

Even though they were of low social status, they still knew how to think for themselves and grasp that opportunity. They even paid visits to their family friends and called them family. Some even married here and there before returning home with the wife's family in tow. It was the first time the region ever encountered such a thing. Back then, the troops of Thundercrash and Monolith proactively brought up to two million immigrants to the region for the sake of the free farmland or property.

But back then, the total number of troops was only around 100 thousand. Yet, currently, there were eight whole folks of Shiksans, around 300 thousand of them, and there was another 200 thousand who didn't make the cut to join the homecoming folks and remained in the region. While they couldn't join, they asked their comrades to bring their families back as well and already made a list.

If that was the case, the estimation of new immigrants might have to be doubled. That made transporting them to the region a huge problem. A voyage from Shiks to Whitestag would take just as long as a voyage from Whitestag to Port Cobius.

Back then, it took around two months for one such voyage. The region gathered all their transport ships and only managed to carry out the huge wave of immigration with the help of Storm, the kingdom's navy. Now that the region had more than 400 large sail ships and an escort of ironclad warships, they could carry up to 500 thousand people per voyage. While it seemed like their transporting capability was increased, that actually lengthened the voyage to three months. As such, they would only be able to make four trips and transport two million people each year.

As such, the family members of the homecoming Shiksans brought many other problems with it. It meant that the region's two corps would have to remain in Shiks for an even longer time. More money would have to be spent on those immigrants, resulting in more wartime spending and higher maritime-transport demand.

The bad news came from the allied noble army. Four months had passed since the region took Saint Cyprean, and the Shiksan prefectures reacted. They gathered their youths and formed local garrisons led by the local officials to resist the Aueran invaders.

The allied noble army suffered quite a few losses during the start of the year. They received the right to attack and conquer the ten western prefectures from Claude, and whatever they managed to raid would be theirs and not the region's concern. So, 100 thousand of them started their attack on three prefectures, doing raids and all other unspeakable evils onto the local populace.

When word of the suffering in those three prefectures got widespread, the other prefectures upped their guard and formed their own forces to fight the incoming bandits. After the noble army licked the three prefectures clean, they began to turn to neighbouring prefectures, only to be met with strong resistance. After a great struggle to take one more prefecture, they found that it had been largely deserted. Guerilla units attacked them constantly and unpredictably. All of a sudden, the allied noble army was suffering significant casualties. They had no choice but to send Claude a messenger to request aid.

Claude simply wrote back and refused that request. A force of 100 thousand was already really powerful. However, the army had been filling their pockets in the first three prefectures for so long that they were now all afraid of dying and hoping Thundercrash would come to take the bullets for them instead. Let Thundercrash do all the dangerous charges and attacks while they profited from the raiding. They really thought that the region's troops were theirs to command around.

The resistance the noble army would encounter had long been in Claude's predictions. Even the homecoming Shiksan soldiers' reported that the local Shiksan officials were really uncooperative to them, to say nothing of the noble army. During the past three months, the homecoming soldiers could still go to those prefectures and operate without problems, whether they were in royal-controlled land or noble territory.

The homecoming Shiksans were able to disguise themselves as normal Shiksan soldiers to visit their families and gain cooperation and grants from local officials. Initially, the local officials even hoped to hear about the current state of battle. When the officials were suspicious about the soldiers bringing their families away, they could say they were taking them to use as hostages and prisoner exchanges.

But as time passed, the homecoming soldiers faced more and more difficulties taking their families away. Not only were they constantly interrogated by the local officials and nobles, they were also surrounded and attacked by local garrisons. Some nobles with good information networks even sent troops to hold their families hostage, causing the homecoming Shiksans to give up on sending small groups of people to infiltrate the prefectures to bring their families home.

Reddragon also reported strong resistance from the two prefectures they managed to conquer so far. But thanks to the new rifles they were armed with, they easily crushed all opposition. The only downside was the huge expenditure of ammunition. They had only left with three million rounds before they were deployed, thinking that was enough to last them till the end of the war. Little did they know that conquering two prefectures alone was enough to use up a third of their ammunition stock.

Blancarte had written to Claude to request the region to bear the ammunition expenditure of Reddragon. Naturally, Claude refused that unreasonable request, countering with an offer to sell bullets to them instead. Their raids on one prefecture alone probably earned them nearly a million crowns anyway. How could Blancarte be so shameless as to ask for their ammunition to be subsidised?

There were far too many issues plaguing Claude's mind currently. But the main one was still the issue of reuniting the eight folks of Shiksans with their families and sending them back to the region. Currently, the number of family members retrieved from the conquered prefectures number near 800 thousand people. That was a huge toll on the supplies of the region.

While Shiks was still filled with supplies, the region's expenditure would eventually shoot up sky high the longer they stayed and the more people they gathered. As such, Claude's urgent priority was to send the first batch of immigrants to the region to settle them down so they could resume life as normal.

As for the request for battle the other homecoming Shiksans submitted, Claude believed he ought to temporarily delay them. The Shiksan soldiers were anxious about reuniting with their families and kept on writing to frontline command about taking action to attack their homes to retrieve their families.

Claude, however, replied and asked them to wait patiently until frontline command got all preparations in order to sweep through the rest of Shiks, promising that they would save their families then. But which prefecture they attacked first depended on the situation, so he asked for their patience and understanding.

In actuality, Claude was merely keeping the burden of feeding all those people off the region's hands as long as he could. It would be very difficult to feed everyone until the ships arrived. It would be better to let them suffer a little in their homes a little longer.

Realities always conflicted with ideals, and man would have to learn how to navigate the practicalities of situations. Apart from the matter of immigrants, the high-ranking officers were also scratching their heads over the captives.

The region now had up to 500 thousand captives, most of them being surrendered troops from the crumbled forces of the four Shiksan standing corps, surrendered garrison soldiers, local officials, and insurgents Typhoon and the homecoming Shiksans captured in Saint Cyprean.

Killing them all off would be the easiest matter of dealing with it, though it simply wasn't possible. Should word of the massacre spread, the region would be branded as the public enemy of all Freians. Nobody could bear the consequences such an action would entail, and nobody was willing to lift the slaughterer's blade.

What of shipping them back to the region's mines? That was a decent idea, but Claude wouldn't be nearly as stressed if he had enough ships to achieve that in the first place. The voyages to ship the immigrants back happened only once every three months, so they wouldn't have any ships left to send the captives away too.

They couldn't just be released into the wild either, lest they bolstered Shiks' resistance even more. Releasing them would be akin to frontline command creating troubles for themselves later on. The problem was keeping so many people captive took a huge toll on manpower and supplies. One whole homecoming folk was required to manage the captives. Fortunately, those captives didn't need to eat or live well. They could get by with a simple wooden shed as shelter from the elements and huddle together for warmth.

Fortunately, Avitelli I decided he would take 200 thousand of those captives to Manori Plains for a huge development effort after the rainy season. That would be a huge boon to frontline command. After a personal conversation with Avitelli I, Claude managed to convince him to take 300 thousand people instead.

Whether they were sent to Bleyotte to farm, build roads, or mine, it would be much better than having frontline command feed them for nothing. Frontline command would only have to juggle half as many hot potatoes, and that was definitely a positive development. As for the welfare and treatment of the captives in Bleyotte, that wouldn't be the region's business any longer.

After a long half month of work, Claude finally recalled that there was another Shiksan standing corps waiting for him to deal with. He hurriedly summoned Borkal to gather reports on Farklin so he could decide what he would do with the surrendered corps.

Chapter 567 - National Defence Force and Useless Allies

"What kind of person do you think he is?" Claude asked Borkal as he watched Count Mullids Jay Kreist, the corpsman of Farklin, ride off to the distance.

Borkal replied in a casual tone as he cleared up the documents they just signed, "What kind of person he is doesn't matter, so long as he has ambition. It's enough that he is willing to cooperate with us. As long as our forces can suppress his troops in might, there's no need to worry about him causing any trouble.

"Currently, if he wants to dominate, he wouldn't be able to do so without our aid. After all, he is all too aware that we will eventually leave. If he wants to spread his voice across Shiks, he would have to start expanding his power now. Whether he wants to found an independent nation in the future or not, he will have to rely on us to clear out the obstacles ahead of him."

The count was a really cautious man. The main factor that he was able to become a corpsman of one of the eight Shiksan standing corps was because his household had always chosen to side with the Shiksan royal family, being a staunch member of their faction. The count himself had graduated from the Shiksan Royal War College and rose up in his career smoothly. His promotions came steadily and without issue. By the time he was 45, he had become a major-general of the kingdom.

Among the Shiksan military, Mullids was considered to be a person of great luck. Due to having served as Majid III's guard leader for some time, he earned the king's deep trust. Some rumours say that he even had very close relations with a few of the king's concubines, which was the ultimate reason why he resigned as the leader of the king's personal guard.

Mullids was quite average when it came to military talent. Whether it be sandtable simulations or actual military drills, he didn't show great promise. As such, quite a number of his colleagues had misgivings about Majid III nominating him to become the corpsman of Farklin. Despite that, Majid III insisted on his nomination because of his confidence in his loyalty.

But now, it seemed that his loyalty to the Shiksan throne had been fake after all, as his corps, Farklin, was the only one of the eight Shiksan standing corps to take their initiative and surrender. While Dakhli had also surrendered, they were Bleyotteans, to begin with. It was only reasonable for them to want to return to their former nation. Farklin's performance, however, was disappointing, to say the least.

Even if Mullids didn't think a corps of mere 60 thousand troops wouldn't possibly be able to stand up against Thundercrash and surrendered because he wanted to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, giving up without even putting up a fight put a lot of stress on him. His allies and enemies both had differing opinions on him. The Shiksan public largely considered him to be a coward, whereas Claude and other high-ranking officers at the frontline saw him as a smart man.

Claude's meeting with the count was a rather pleasant one. Both sides knew what could be said and what should better be left unsaid. It was only after the welcome banquet that the two had a serious chat. Mullids had a clear mind and knew what he wanted, what he could get, what the region could provide him, and what they expected from him in return.

After a day and night of negotiations, Claude represented the autonomous region to sign an agreement with the count, titled 'The National Defence and Peace Agreement'. According to the agreement, Farklin would change its name to the National Defence Army and take over the five southern prefectures emptied by Thundercrash. Thundercrash would then attack the remaining three central prefectures and hand them over to the National Defence Army after three months.

After that, the ten prefectures would become the territory of the National Defence Army. They would be the first military force the autonomous region endorsed in Shiks. Claude and Mullids were quite satisfied with the win-win agreement. Claude was glad that he would no longer have to waste troops and manpower to hold the prefectures he defeated by handing them over to the National Defence Army. He also wouldn't have to deal with the insurgents with them taking over security.

Mullids was also quite satisfied. Unlike the allied noble army that would cross any kind of moral line without qualms, the two corps directly under the region's jurisdiction only plundered the nobles and the rich. They didn't offend or oppress the local populace unless they were trouble-causing insurgents.

After the National Defence Army took over those areas, they could continue to tax the populace to fund their military activities. As the local officials were completely swept away by the region, Mullids would not face any opposition in his administration of those areas. Like a blank canvas, he was free to paint it as he saw fit.

Mullids had a few reasons for requesting to be given the three central prefectures after the region attacked them. The first was most of the soldiers from Farklin were poor farmers from those three prefectures. Secondly, one of the prefectures was a core military-industrial area. Mullids wanted to ensure he had a stable supply of gear for his troops.

The third reason was obvious to many: there were a few noble houses in the three prefectures stronger than the count's, so he wanted to use them to get rid of his rivals before showing up to maintain order there like a saviour in perilous times.

Claude didn't mind letting Mullids take care of those three prefectures since the local nobles there formed many garrison forces and went around shouting slogans to recapture Saint Cyprean and driving the invaders away. Back then, Thundercrash and Typhoon were spread really thin to maintain the region's grasp over those areas. But with the National Defence Army coming into the picture, Thundercrash could finally turn its attention to attacking the three central prefectures to make another killing.

Borkal had wanted to get the National Defence Army to attack the three prefectures as well, but Claude was more than aware that they wouldn't be reliable at all. The troops of Farklin were already distressed enough to surrender without a fight, and sending them to attack their homes would definitely not bode well. Currently, however, the National Defence Army' duty was to maintain local order. If the region wanted to use them offensively, there had to be an even greater reason to fight for the region.

Mullids hoped that the region would first sweep the three central prefectures clean before handing them over to him. That way, he would be able to split the land of the nobles between his troops. He believed that only then could his troops' might and loyalty for him grow, as they wouldn't just be fighting for the noble house, but also their own property.

Claude quite admired the count's outlook on things and believed he made the right move. Apart from splitting the land among his men to win their hearts, the National Defence Army would be able to keep the order to allow the fishing and farming industries to continue production uninterrupted. That way, they would be able to trade with the region's troops in the royal territory while suppressing the insurgents.

Claude breathed a sigh of relief when he finally saw the count off. By the time Farklin was reorganised into the National Defence Army and sent to the five southern prefectures, Thundercrash would finally be able to leave their stations and rally together to become a mobile combat force once more. Initially, Claude had wanted to give up on those five prefectures instead like Dademoss before them.

But he noticed that wouldn't work. There were three port cities within the five prefectures, and leaving them unattended was inviting trouble. While Thundercrash cleared out the local officials, nobles, and rich elite in the area, flames could still easily be fanned among the common civilian. Their constant attacks on an occupying army would no doubt prove to be quite burdensome.

Additionally, after the three prefectures on Manori Plains were returned to Bleyotte, the three Bleyottean mountain corps had to return to their kingdom as well and could no longer remain in Shiksan territory to help the region defend those prefectures.

The first main reason for that was the allied noble army causing the region trouble. They were so used to pillaging and raiding in the three western prefectures that they did the same to a village in Bleyotte out of habit, resulting in a few hundred casualties.

Avitelli I fumed with rage over the matter, and the high-ranking officers of the region joined in. It finally came to light that their allies were complete imbeciles. Fortunately, the leaders of the army, Duke Reddragon and Marquis Griffon, still had clear heads on their shoulders and immediately captured those thousand offenders and beheaded them all as an apology to Bleyotte, providing a satisfactory resolution to the Bleyottean populace.

The ones who led the pillaging band were a viscount and two barons. They did so under the heavy influence of alcohol. As punishment for their transgressions, the royal capital revoked their family's noble Titles, beheaded the family heads, and sent their family members for ten years of hard labour. All their assets would be paid to Bleyotte to make up for their losses.

Even though the matter was resolved, that caused Avitelli I to feel that his nation was horribly undefended. Bleyotte only had four standing corps, and three of them were deployed to aid the region. Their casualties racked up to close to a corps eventually. While it was mostly in part due to their lacklustre performance on the battlefield, it was also a sign of Bleyotte's sincere desire to help the region as allies.

As such, Claude only assigned the Bleyotteans simple support tasks like watching the captives or transporting supplies. While Avitelli I managed to convince Dakhli to rejoin Bleyotte, he also needed troops stationed at the three prefectures on Manori Plains. Now that such an incident had happened within his kingdom's borders, the king had no choice but to recall his troops into his nation. He needed all the troops he could muster to close off the route from Mambamark to Shiks to prevent such an incident from ever happening again.

The other reason was after Claude promised to return the four eastern prefectures to Bleyotte, Avitelli I needed to go back to form new troops for that battle. After Thundercrash handed the three central prefectures to the National Defence Army, the attack on the four eastern prefectures would commence, so there were lots of preparations to be made.

After Claude gave Berklin and Dyavid the order to attack the three central prefectures, he ordered Thundercrash to rest and reorganise at Saint Cyprean. Once they reached the capital, Eiblont came to him to complain about Typhoon was always stationed in the same place whereas Thundercrash got to go all over the place.

Claude consoled him and said that after Thundercrash took the four eastern prefectures and completed the deal with Avitelli I, he would send Thundercrash back to Saint Cyprean to take Typhoon's place. When that happened, Eiblont would be able to attack the prefectures no others had touched yet.

In the heat of their discussion, Borkal came in with a secret message. Claude's expression grimmed instantly.

"What's going on? Is it bad news?" Eiblont asked.

Claude handed him the letter. "See for yourself. The allied noble army actually sold their captives to slave traders."

There were a number of nations on Freia that still practised slavery, chief among which were the seven Salkan nations in the centre of the continent. The terrain of Central Freia was mostly highlands and mountainous ravines, and the people of Eastern Freia, Southern Freia and Northern Freia saw Central Freia as a desolate wasteland. The seven Central Freian nations sat mostly in the mountains. Some accounts described them as barbarians, barely more than animals. While they still practised slavery, they were graced with deep pockets thanks to abundant gold and silver ores, so they had money to purchase slaves.

"Aren't these seven always fighting each other? Why would slave traders come to Shiks?" Eiblont asked.

"The slave traders from central Freia go wherever there is war. They usually avoid going to countries that don't like to deal with them, especially those that have abolished slavery. Stellin IX's put a number of slave traders to death and liberated their slaves during his reign. They've seldomly been seen in our part of the continent since.

"Shiks, on the other hand, has some relations with these slavers. While Shiks has also abolished slavery, their farm serfs and subjects are slaves of a kind. The nobles sometimes deal with the slavers in secret, especially if they feel they have too many people on their lands, or there is a growing number of malcontents.

"Not to mention, there's a great demand for slaves, especially artisans, whether gunsmiths or jewellers. As long as they have a skill, they go for a high price. Given how undeveloped the civilisation of central Freia is, artisans are usually treated very well after they are sold.

"Next on the list are young soldiers. The slavers usually have slave armies and often fight amongst themselves too. Next on their priority would be beautiful women, followed behind by strong youths fit for farming or mining. The allied noble army went a little far this time around and sold off almost everyone eligible in the three prefectures they occupied. Those who remain are all elderly or sick."

Eiblont seemed a little aloof. "That doesn't have anything to do with us. The Shiksans are the ones suffering at the end of the day. This is war, after all, and we can do nought but lament these tragic happenings. While the allied noble army is our ally, we can't stop them. Their actions are beyond our control."

"But their actions will greatly affect our reputation. The region was the one that started this war, after all. Without us, the allied noble army would never have been able to conquer the Shiksan borderlands. Consequently, their actions will now affect our reputation. Other nations might think that we're directing the allied noble army to do such things," Borkal angrily said. Even a merchant like him didn't see humans as products to be traded and sold.

"I will write to Duke Reddragon and Marquis Griffon to warn them on the matter. If they continue doing so, they will make enemies across all of the ten western prefectures and only find it harder and harder to proceed. There will be no more chance for the Shiksans to stop before fighting to their last breath. I really don't get it. Can't those two see something so simple? Why would they allow their subordinates to trade slaves?" Claude said with a grim look.

"Don't stress yourself out too much," Eiblont said with a smile, "You can't deny that it's a good way to deal with the captives. If the 100 plus thousand captives are sold to the slavers, Typhoon would have a much easier time. However, we can't do so as our baseline as soldiers wouldn't allow us to associate with the likes of slavers. It really is quite a shame, though."

Chapter 568 - Wolves Abroad, Hyenas at Home

Duke Reddragon and Marquis Griffon's replies soon came. However, all Claude could read from the tone of the duke was a sense of weariness. The old man kept on beating around the bush to praise the allied noble army only to admit at the end that when they were attacking the fourth prefecture, they didn't gain any satisfactory spoils despite the huge casualties they suffered due to the enemy's scorched-earth tactic. It was then when the slavers from the seven central nations showed up, so they decided to sell the captives to them to make up for their losses.

The old man admitted that it was his negligence that led to such heresy taking place in the first place, but he excused himself for being old and no longer able to keep on fighting, saying that he would retire as commander-in-chief of the allied noble army soon and return to his fief to lick his wounds. So, he apologised to Claude for not being able to complete the assignment of sweeping the ten western prefectures clean.

Unlike Duke Reddragon's letter that contained an intertwined mixture of truths and untruths, Marquis Griffon sounded far more direct. He casually admitted that the allied noble army had lost all semblance of discipline and was no longer an army, but rather, a large band of criminals and bandits. As the second-in-command, he felt nothing but shame!

Ever since the army set foot to attack the three western prefectures, he witnessed countless atrocities being committed in their name without end, especially the acts committed by the nobles. The nobles had lost all their cultivated refinement and saw nothing but money in their eyes. For the sake of getting a gold tooth, they would be willing to behead an old man in his seventies. To force a merchant to hand out their last gold coin, they would have no qualms about smashing an infant into the wall until it died.

Marquis Griffon said that he would rather have all the soldiers of the army shot dead. While there would no doubt be innocent soldiers wrapped up in such a massacre, there would be hundreds of rightfully punished evildoers for every innocent saint killed. As the army's discipline melted away, the units split into various factions under different nobles, though they all shared the same goal of scouring the Shiksan populace for wealth. That was why they were willing to deal with slavers and go against the kingdom's laws.

Marquis Griffon advised Claude to not bear any hope for the army. Those nobles who had filled their pockets to the brim weren't intent on fighting at all. All they wanted was to return to their respective fiefs to enjoy the fruits of their plunder. All of them, from the elite nobles to the lowliest soldier, were worried about losing their lives. The consequences for their crimes was the formation of all sorts of insurgent groups across the four prefectures they conquered. For every tent they sent out to fight them, fewer than four people would return.

The most terrifying part was how they didn't feel safe even in their own camps. The Shiksans once sent suicide bombers into the camps with carriages loaded with explosives under the pretence of selling vegetables, resulting in the deaths of up to a hundred men. There were some that infiltrated their camps to poison their supplies and took out a whole tribe of men and killing more than a hundred of them. Currently, the allied noble army didn't dare send out a patrol unless they had a whole band of men.

They were utterly terrified by the local insurgents and demanded to be allowed to retreat. They were unwilling to continue their mission to sweep through the prefectures either, worrying day in and out instead on whether they could even retreat safely. Marquis Griffon noted that perhaps they were already on their way back by the time Claude read the letter.

Claude regretted it somewhat for having wanted to count on the 100 thousand men of the allied noble army, thinking that they would afford some decent amount of help to the region and agreeing to let them take part in the attack. In the end, they did nothing but leave a mess for Thundercrash to clean up. Claude had no choice but to send an urgent letter to Avitelli I to warn him to raise his guard so that the allied noble army no longer caused him any trouble as they passed through Bleyotte during their retreat.

Their departure was a good thing at the end of the day. The allied noble army was nothing but a liability now and the others would only be relieved with them gone. Even so, Claude still had to have Typhoon send out a folk to the ten western prefectures to monitor the allied noble army's retreat and clean up their mess to prevent the insurgent forces from entering the territory the region controlled.

Near the end of the 5th month of Year 605, Ironclad and the transport fleet finally returned to Port Patkara. The next batch of homecoming Shiksan soldiers and their families could finally be on their way to the region. Within those two months, the sweeping of a few more prefectures saw another 600 plus thousand family members gather at Saint Cyprean.

Fortunately, Mullids' National Defence Army had taken over the five southern and five central prefectures, allowing the region to turn its attention away from matters of keeping its flanks secured. Additionally, Thundercrash could also be mobilised for strategic attacks to help Bleyotte take the four eastern prefectures at the border of Bleyotte.

By now, the other vassal nations of Shiks had begun to react. Now, Shiks was like a buffet of delicious meat served in front of all of them. The nations that believed they had a claim to that grand feast all flocked together and prepared to take their own large bite out of the delicious pieces of meat. News from all over was delivered to Saint Cyprean non-stop.

"Lord Militant, King Avitelli I sent you a letter," Fachselin said as he handed Claude an eagle message.

Claude opened it in a hurry, only to see that it was about the vassal nations of the Duchy of Suncross, the Kingdom of Castro, the Kingdom of Monatro, the Duchy of Tumak and the Kingdom of Isabra had sent ambassadors to Bleyotte. They had wanted to reach out to Claude through Avitelli I's connection with him, so the king forwarded him the message.

Claude stood up to take a look at the map of Northern Freia on his wall and soon saw the vassal nations mentioned in the letter. It was obvious they were gunning for Shiks. Like Bleyotte, they had been forced to cede Shiks territory before.

"Let their ambassadors come, then. Notify Avitelli I about this," instructed Claude.

"Yes, Lord Militant," Fachselin said before he left to send the eagle message.

Claude let the gears in his mind grind as he looked at the map. The five nations to the eastern and western border as well as Bleyotte made six in total. The five nations to the northern border, however, didn't show any response. The three northernmost nations were barbarian nations that could be ignored for now, but it was odd that the lower two, like the Kingdom of Zamaria and Kingdom of Pramaya, didn't show any response. Three of the eleven northern prefectures of Shiks had been taken from those two nations through a gruelling, four-year-long conflict at their borders.

Borkal came in and immediately opened a bottle of wine and poured himself a cup. Claude looked at him, all dusty and dirty, and wondered where he had come from. "Where were you just now?"

"Port Patkara," Borkal said, "There are four more ironclad transport ships this time around, so we're able to send more people and things back. Additionally, General Skri in Northbay requested us to send him 30 thousand captive labourers first as they need lots of manpower for development. They also need another three million crowns to cover the costs. The region's council requested us to pay that sum with the spoils we got."

Claude laughed. The spoils obtained from Shiks was too much that even the council began to get a little jealous over it to the point that they wanted the military administration to cover development costs of Northbay. "It's fine. Send 50 thousand captives there first. As for funding, we'll send General Skri ten million crowns. Just make sure the accounts are clean. What we spend now, the council can repay us gradually. We don't have to worry about them not taking up the costs."

"That's only a small matter. Yesterday, I received word from the department of intelligence that Count Mullids Jay Kreist of the National Defence Army held a local assembly and gave a speech about how Shiks is facing a critical time and how their corps is enduring humiliation to sue for peace with the invaders from the region for the sake of restoring their kingdom.

"He said that no other force in Shiks is a match for the National Defence Army, so that's why they are the ones with the task of negotiating with us to restore peace and order for the kingdom until they will have enough strength to drive us away one day.

"Some people accused the count of siding with us during the assembly and being a traitor, arguing that the National Defence Army should join the Duke of the Northlands if he really wanted to help the kingdom. It' said that Duke Feriot now has 300 thousand troops and plans to come storming through the ten western prefectures.

"The count responded by saying that he understood those criticisms, considering the degree of his actions. But he asked the sceptics why they were so certain that joining Duke Feriot would result in victory for Shiks. If they failed, Shiks would really stop existing and the poor Shiksan folk would no longer have anyone to rely on to protect them.

"As such, while it is fine for others to join Duke Feriot, the National Defence Army can't, as it has to remain to make sure the raided territories no longer suffered any more indignation from the invaders. It also has to silently amass its forces as the last hope for Shiks."

Borkal finished his wine in one go after that long report. "I think Count Kreist isn't really reliable. He actually dared publicly say something like that to antagonise us. Should we give him a warning?"

Claude smiled and waved. "It's normal. To them, we are indeed invaders. We gave him the five central and five coastal prefectures because we already sucked them dry and they are no longer useful to us. Instead, we are hoping that they keep the insurgents suppressed for us.

"I would say that the count did rather well based on the current situation. He's the perfect local defender. His ability to suppress the insurgents and restore basic order and industry is a great help for us. Not only will he be able to restore trade in his territories, but he'll also be able to provide the territories we still occupy with daily necessities. We also wouldn't have to waste manpower to occupy those territories we give away.

"As for his antagonistic rhetoric, that's to win the hearts of the folk. Don't you think what he said was really funny? For the sake of saving his kingdom, he has to silently amass power until he's confident enough to drive us out. Yet, we never planned on occupying them forever in the first place. We'll be long gone by the time the count feels he's powerful enough."

Borkal's expression was one of enlightenment. "That's right. Why did I forget that we wouldn't be staying here? I really shouldn't be picking bones with him. Oh, there's another thing. The allied noble army has left Bleyotte without causing any incident. However, they will be returning with all the wealth they pillaged from Shiks. They have up to a thousand ox carts of spoils and even tied some furniture they got to the carts to bring them back."

Claude sighed. "Those troublemakers are finally gone. That's good news for us. At least we won't have to worry about them causing us any more trouble. By the way, you mentioned that Duke Feriot has amassed a force of 300 thousand and plans to sweep through the ten western prefectures. Is that true?"

Borkal shook his head. "I can't verify whether it is true as our informants still haven't been able to infiltrate the eleven northern prefectures. That rumour stemmed from the local Shiksan folk. Some people swear by it while others think it's just a hoax since the two standing corps that joined the duke still remains unmoving in the prefecture of Krusta. The duke himself has never appeared publicly either.

"But I personally think that it could be true. Otherwise, the allied noble army wouldn't be retreating that quickly. They are probably one of the earliest to receive word of that, hence their decision to retreat. I made some estimations. The allied noble army entered the ten western prefectures from the east whereas the duke's force of 300 thousand entered from the north. There is a gap of around 40 days between the two forces. The allied noble army probably got word of the duke's troop movements and immediately retreated without bothering to notify us."

Borkal sounded rather pissed. He thought the nobles definitely wanted them to suffer by intentionally hiding the fact of the advance of the duke's army. Had Borkal known about that earlier, he would've tried to set the nobles up so that they paid the price.

Claude, however, stood up and took a long look at the map before shaking his head. "It might just be a coincidence. What I wonder is if the duke really has a force of 300 thousand and wants to fight for Shiks' restoration, he should be attacking the nine eastern prefectures where Thundercrash is stationed. He should be coming to us to request a decisive battle. What business do his troops have in the ten western prefectures? There's nobody there apart from the retreating allied noble army.

"Or, it could be that the force of 300 thousand wasn't amassed by the duke, but someone else. They might be trying to occupy their own territory in the ten western prefectures, so they are trying to avoid us in the nine eastern prefectures. That shows that this mystery figure is no fool and recognises his strengths and weaknesses. He might think he won't be our match, hence his evasion. Send someone to check whether that's truly the case."

Borkal nodded. "Got it. I'll work on it immediately."

"Also, there's something I want you to take note of. Check if there's anyone like Count Kreist in the remaining central prefectures. Four of the nine eastern prefectures belong to Bleyotte, and I doubt the remaining five can stay in Shiks either. The two neighbouring nations, Suncross and Castro, should be vying after the five prefectures and want to take a bite out of Shiks as well.

"At the borders of the ten western prefectures, Monatro, Tumak and Isabra are also eager to take their territories back. Well, we'll see if they're capable of doing so. Now that five southern and five central prefectures belong to the National Defence Army, the only territories in Shiks remaining are the eleven northern prefectures and a few other western prefectures.

"We need a suitable candidate to rival the Duke of the Northlands and the National Defence Army for the central prefectures and royal territory. Only then can we form a triangle of opposing factions. By then, we would no longer have any worries after retreating from Shiks. They'll have wolves abroad and hyenas within. Perhaps the days of the northern superpower will henceforth only be a page in history."

Chapter 569 - Middle of the 9th Month

It was the 11th of the 9th month in Port Patkara on Manori Plains in Bleyotte.

The third voyage to transport the homecoming Shiskans and their families to the region was about to commence. Up to 500 large, sail transport ships filled the docks to the brim, their decks filled with the families of the troops. They wanted to look at their homeland one last time before setting off to unknown frontiers to start their new lives.

"We have an extra 47 large sail ships and eight ironclad transport ships, so we are able to transport another 500 thousand people. It's all thanks to General Birkin," Moriad excitedly said, "Had he not asked Liberty to use fire to attack Port Felimz of the three Southern Freian nations with fire, we might have another hundred plus transport ships though."

Claude shook his head with a slight smile. It was already rather difficult for Birkin to procure as many ships as he had. When the region went to war with Shiks, the three Southern Freian nations, Moloshik, Lesnia and Wasilisk, sent an allied army to reclaim their colonies in Nubissia. A force of 400 thousand invaded the pamigar republic and conquered most of the land stretching inland from the coasts.

The Pamigar Liberation Front were completely helpless against the allied army and had no choice but to retreat inland to losman territory to continue their fight. Once the allied army entered Lesnia's second colony at the western coast, they began a horrific, vengeful massacre against the losman, killing everyone else but young women they could enslave.

The losman had no choice but to stop their infighting to unite against their common threat. With the pamigar and losman asking for help, the region had no choice but to join in and renamed two Monolith folks into voluntary folks and recruited many retired veterans to form the Liberty Corps. They began their campaign in the pamigar republic and fought three victorious and defensive battles to hold back the allied army of those three nations.

When the ambassadors of Freia came to demand answers from the region, Birkin replied that Liberty was a force formed from retired troops who were currently civilians and had nothing to do with the region. Now that those civilians were operating outside the region at the western coast, they were beyond the region's jurisdiction, so the region held no command over them.

The most laughable thing about that exchange was as they were arguing semantics with Birkin, they were purchasing all sorts of daily necessities from the region to supply their allied army. Birkin, however, had to meet the ambassadors to push responsibility away while commanding Liberty at the same time and barely had any time for himself.

It was during the 12th month of last year when Birkin found the opportunity to approach the allied army during new year's eve. He commanded the pamigar forces and a special operations unit from the voluntary troops to infiltrate Port Felimz and launch a surprise attack on their transport ships, burning up to a hundred of them and also setting flames to tens of warships. The attackers then sailed to the seas after commandeering tens of transport vessels for themselves.

That attack on the allied army's transport ships was a historic event for the liberation of the western coast. The allied army, having lost their support, had no choice but to switch to defence. The pamigar forces, losman light cavalry and Liberty reclaimed much of the land and conquered towns in a counterattack against the allied army during the first half of the current year.

The 47 ships Moriad mentioned were the spoils from that battle. The ships were completely overhauled and renamed before they were taken under the banner of the region's transport fleet.

Moriad also brought Claude a large stack of reports concerning the battles in the western coast By the time he finished reading them, he wasn't too worried about any big changes on that front. Instead, he was considering whether he should offer Birkin some aid.

Birkin stated in his report that Liberty was good at defence thanks to being formed from two folks from Monolith. However, they lacked the ability to deal a critical blow when the time was right. For instance, in the surprise attack on Port Felimz, the attacking forces suffered quite a number of unnecessary casualties because their attacking spirit and tactics were far behind those of Thundercrash. Sometimes, the lack of a decisive drive and push caused them to suffer casualties where they wouldn't need to.

Usually, Claude should think of how he could send a Thundercrash folk back to help Birkin. Berklin might be a good candidate and was fully capable of working under Birkin. But after some more consideration, he decided to hold Berklin there for longer. Operation Wildfire wasn't an urgent matter, so it was better to wait for things in Shiks to stabilise first.

Claude wrote in his reply that the battles in Shiks might take another year or so to conclude and asked Birkin to slow down the pace on his side instead of trying to defeat the allied army in the shortest time possible. Instead, he should use the time to cycle out the units that took part in battle to slowly train the pamigar and losman troops to be better fighters.

He believed that defeating the allied army wouldn't mark the end of the war, but rather, the start of another. The pamigar republic and losman territory used to belong to Moloshik and Lesnia in the first place. Even Wasilisk's colony was mostly conquered by the pamigar forces. As those three nations still hadn't admitted to losing, the other nations with colonies at the western front couldn't really interfere.

Currently, the allied army was only fighting by themselves. If they had the support of the other nations at the western coast, there would be no need for them to purchase supplies from the region in the first place. It was from that report that Claude reasoned that the other nations on the western coast didn't hold good intentions for each other.

Buying military supplies for the troops from the region was the obvious choice thanks to their good prices and quality. However, buying meats and food raised eyebrows. The price of food on the western coast was much cheaper than those of the region and they would also save on shipping costs. The sensible choice was to buy from other nations on the western coast.

And logically speaking, the other nations there should be happy to sell to the three nations trying to reclaim their colonies. Food wasn't inherently valuable in the first place, and selling them off would net them some good profits.

Oddly, however, those nations that so loudly proclaimed that they should stick together against the threat of the revolting natives excused themselves by claiming they didn't have enough stock of food thanks to civil unrest caused by the revolts and refused to provide any aid to the allied army on those grounds. They also began to transport troops from Freia to their colonies with the excuse of preventing revolts. It was said that a few nations already had at least two corps transferred to their respective colonies.

While Lesnia, Moloshik and Wasilisk's ambassadors came to the region to object, they did end up making a long list of purchases. Some more loose-lipped ones among them revealed that they were dissatisfied at their trade request being refused. Birkin merely wrote that down in a joking tone, but Claude could feel the hatred contained within those words.

That was why Claude asked Birkin to not eliminate the allied army too quickly. The longer time that passed, the more the allied army would bleed out. Eventually, they would be unable to reclaim their three colonies. That was especially the case for Lesnia, that had two colonies but was bleeding out too much from trying to reclaim one.

Claude believed that by the time Lesnia lost enough blood in their second colony, they would collapse if the losman in the first colony got riled up. Soon, Lesnia would lose all their Nubissian colonies. Additionally, Claude also suspected that the other nations were probably waiting for the allied army to fail, hence their non-interference. Once that happened, they might swoop in to split the unoccupied colonies among themselves.

So, it wasn't a good time to send aid to Birkin. While it would definitely be effective in dealing with the allied army, it wouldn't do much once the larger chaos ensued.

To complete Operation Wildfire and liberate the natives for good and allow them to found their own independent nations and cultivate a market the region could trade with was a difficult and long-term effort. More time was needed, and there was little chance of success in the short term.

Claude had long been prepared to work long term for the sake of Operation Wildfire. It was different from the war on Shiks, which wasn't going to last long, to begin with.

The region was completely uninterested in Shiksan territory. The main reason they went to war was to get the homecoming Shiksans and their families to emigrate to the region. It was also a good chance to plunder more wealth to solve their financial issues. It could also help Aueras get rid of yet another long-standing nemesis.

Claude wouldn't deny that part of it was also due to him wanting to shock the king and his ministers. Ever since the king decreed the enfeoffment of land to the region's nobles in exchange for 30 million crowns, large amounts of military gear and an ironclad warship fleet, they had been pining after the region.

Perhaps this war would serve as a wake-up call to the king and his ministers. They should understand that while they stood to gain much monetarily and military from the autonomous region, the region should never be their target, for they even managed to best the northern giant that was Shiks. Given the disparity between their strengths, Aueras would do well not to antagonise the region and strive for a mutually benefiting relationship instead.

Two months ago, Claude met the ambassadors from five nations neighbouring Shiks who wanted to reclaim their lost territory. Generously, Claude told the ambassadors to do as they pleased and Suncross and Castro were free to enter the five eastern prefectures. However, it would be best if they waited until Thundercrash swept through them first before they handed those five prefectures over.

As for the ten western prefectures, Monatro, Tumak and Isabra had to retake them themselves as the region didn't have enough troops at the moment to deploy there. He did, however, mention the Shiksan force of 300 thousand that just entered the region and joined up with the local garrison forces. So, if the three nations wanted to reclaim their territory there, they would need a substantial force to take them on.

But with the help of the ambassadors, Claude finally found out more about the Shiksan force. Their leader was also a Shiksan duke with blood relations to the Shiksan royal family, allegedly a cousin to Majid III. His name was Nirtoz Surt Shiks and was also known as the Duke of Sunset River.

The duke's household was based in the northern prefecture of Felinor, a really strategic location. His house was enfeoffed land there because the Shiksan royal family hoped they would be able to counteract the influence of the ducal house of the Northlands, House Feriot. But now, it seemed that they didn't achieve what they were tasked with. It was already a miracle that they didn't end up suppressed by House Feriot themselves, to say no more about them suppressing House Feriot.

However, the current war allowed the Duke of Sunset River to leave his poor fief with the hope of becoming a conqueror. He used his status as the king's cousin to sell his fief to Duke Feriot and amassed a force of local garrison troops and marched into the ten western prefectures while shouting the slogan of driving the invaders away and revitalising the kingdom, conveniently ignoring Thundercrash that was still active within the nine eastern prefectures.

After four of the ten western prefectures were so horribly treated by the Aueran noble army, they welcomed a legitimate force with ties to the Shiksan royal family with open arms. Nirtoz immediately gained popular appeal and took over those ten prefectures and began to amass his forces and strengthen defences, anxious to fortify the ten prefectures like a turtle with a hardened shell.

Duke Feriot, on the other hand, was still an elusive mystery to Claude. It seemed he wasn't the least bit worried about more than half of Shiks falling. Even when the two Shiksan standing corps, Jesca and Clyde, came to join him, they were only ordered to defend the borders. It seemed as if he didn't have any plans to leave the northwestern highlands to retake conquered territory.

Fortunately, the eight homecoming Shiksan folks didn't enter the eleven northern prefectures, so there was no need for Claude to deal with Duke Feriot. By the time Thundercrash swept the central prefectures clean and Typhoon was sent to escort the remaining family members within the six remaining western prefectures, all the region's tasks in the war would be complete.

Chapter 570 - Lease and the Court's Three Requests

After sending off Moriad, Ironclad and the transport fleet, Claude and Avitelli I who rushed here to meet surveyed the terrain in the whole of Patkara. In the end, Claude, representing the region, signed an agreement with Avitelli I to lease Port Patkara from Bleyotte for fifty years at the price of 100 thousand crowns each, with the price increasing by ten percent every decade.

While the region was uninterested in conquering Shiksan territory, Claude didn't think they should just leave after the war. Instead, they should maintain a degree of military and economic influence on the area. As such, he decided to take a page out of American imperialism. The presence of their base in the area would make the locals constantly aware of the region's might and be unlikely to do anything without taking them into consideration.

Leasing the land would be far more beneficial than outright conquering it since the region didn't have any base to rely upon in that part of the continent. Might very often made right in Faslan, and most nations would choose conquest as an option. However, that came along with too many consequences for the future, such as the vengeance of the local populace. In the event of a conflict, the region also wouldn't be able to easily leave that area.

The conquered land would be the main point of contest, and public unrest would also cost the region who knows how much money to settle. Protecting a foreign conquered territory with troops to suppress the locals and appease them to accept rule by the region would eventually cost an astronomical amount, eventually taking a huge toll on the region's finances.

Just looking back at the empire on which the sun doesn't on set old Earth would show the failure of such a model. Apart from Hong Kong and India bringing the British empire any financial gain, the other conquered countries producing raw material also caused lots of native revolts and struggles for independence, which eventually caused the collapse of the empire. In the end, the empire collapsed and retreated back to their island nation. Eventually, they even had to use ferries to bolster their numbers in a naval parade.

However, the Americans' overseas bases being built on leased territory completely avoided that trap. While functionally, the two approaches were not that much different, some of the locals came to see the occupying forces as their protectors, unlike those that saw the British as conquerors and oppressors. That was why Avitelli I was so happy to hear about the region interested in leasing the port for a military base and even suggested the annual rent to be a symbolic one penny.

To Avitelli I, the region was a reliable ally. He knew perfectly well they didn't have any intention of occupying Shiksan territory, hence why they were so happy to hand the conquered territories back to the neighbouring nations. Bleyotte regained the three prefectures on Manori Plains and conquered four eastern prefectures, adding to their existing roster of 14 mountainous prefectures. Currently, they were a sizeable player on the Freian continent.

Avitelli I saw Claude's request to lease Port Patkara as a means to help him secure his rule. With the region's troops stationed nearby, he wouldn't have to worry about the safety of Manori Plains. Even if Shiks reunited in the future, they would be helpless to demand the three prefectures back from Bleyotte, given that Port Patkara was being leased to the region.

If possible, Avitelli I didn't want to collect any rent from the region at all. After all, the port yielded less than 50 thousand crowns, yet the region generously wanted to lease it for 100 thousand crowns each year with a rent increase every decade. While Bleyotte would lose jurisdiction over the leased territory in that time, that wasn't akin to selling the port to the region entirely. It ultimately still had to be returned to Bleyotte.

Grateful for the rent, Avitelli I included the area within a 25-kilometre radius of Port Patkara, including the mountain pass to enter Manori Plains, inside the area to be leased to the region, signing off on the Patkara Lease Agreement. Claude paid 5.6 million crowns, the rent for all five decades, to Bleyotte immediately. Avitelli I was so overwhelmed that he hugged Claude as warm tears flowed from his eyes, recognising him as a true friend of Bleyotte.

After the lease was signed, Claude could finally have the 100 thousand remaining homecoming Shiksans in Saint Cyprean transferred to the port. In the coming two to three months, they would work on building the port up to earn some extra money. It would be far better than just leaving them in Saint Cyprean to do nothing but eat and sleep.

In time, Port Patkara would become a huge trading hub in the south of Freia. Along with Northbay on the Great Plains of Canas, they would form a golden maritime trade route. Trade between the two ports carried products from the south and east of the continent and also connected them with the goods from Nubissia. One could only imagine how prosperous the future was.

As such, Port Patkara had to be expanded and renovated. The region had plans to overhaul almost the whole place. Thankfully, they happened to have enough manpower at the moment and could start working on it immediately. It was a win-win solution; the region got a trading port where they could also station troops whereas the family members of the homecoming Shiksans could earn some more money before they emigrated to the region.

Claude stayed in Port Patkara for up to a month. Once he was finished with all the planning efforts and waited for the Shiksan families to arrive, he left the rest in the hands of the Head of Logistics, Major-General Siegfeld Mor Vincent. Siegfeld used to be a lieutenant-colonel when he joined Thundercrash's logistics unit back then, but now, he was a major-general. Being a logistics officer, he was well aware of how hard it was for them to be promoted to the rank of a general officer, but years of serving Claude opened the door for him easily.

Claude returned to all sorts of busywork when he reached Saint Cyprean. He discussed Birkin's report with Eiblont before the latter told him he had been quite envious of Birkin for being able to return to the region to run the operation. He also ran a few sandtable simulations with Claude between the pamigar republic and the allied army of the three nations to try to project the future development of that war.

Claude wasn't too worried about Birkin not adopting his suggestion. While Birkin didn't seem to stand out, he was someone who carefully thought through and considered his actions. Having seen Claude's letter, he would naturally know what to do. Currently, the three nations at the western coast were the ones being beaten up without being able to fight back. They could do nought if the region chose to let the war drag on.

Before Claude handed Operation Wildfire over, he had already given the three nations a harsh lesson by exterminating the troops they sent to the colonies once. He had thought that would cause them to tone down somewhat and take the loss without pressing on, but he didn't think they would send more troops to try to reclaim the colonies after he left.

But now, it seemed like they had done all they could. If they failed once more, they would no longer be able to return to the western coast. Birkin reported that eight corps had been sent on the current expedition. Lesnia and Moloshik each sent three corps whereas Wasilisk only sent two, totalling up to around 400 thousand troops.

Claude really felt like laughing when he saw the numbers. A traditional corps numbered around 60 thousand, so eight times that should be 480 thousand, yet the three nations only had 400 thousand in eight corps. It was all too obvious those troops were hastily cobbled together and incomplete.

Those nations were unlike Shiks in that the inland Shiksan colonies were only there because the Shiksan nobles wanted to profit off mining. That was why they travelled inland the moment they reached the shore and eventually lost their hold on the coastal area because they found lots of mineable resources inland.

But even without occupying a coastal territory, decades of nonstop mining brought Shiks a nigh-endless supply of gold, silver and wealth that allowed Majid III to stubbornly not admit defeat and continue the war.

The issue was while Lesnia, Moloshik and Wasilisk were at the western coast, their colonies were bereft of mineable resources. They could only count on agriculture, fishing, logging and hunting for income. Trade between the colonies and their homeland overlords was the true source of income for the nobles of those nations.

Compared to Shiks' nonstop influx of wealth, all the income the colonies brought the nations of Southern Freia was pathetic. Being able to send a second expedition to reclaim the colonies already stretched at the limits of their capabilities. If those 400 thousand troops were wiped out once more, those nations would really have to bid the colonies goodbye.

Meanwhile, the region's plans to send troops impersonating pamigar fighters, losman cavalrymen and sending Liberty to liberate the natives of the three colonies didn't pique Claude's attention. All was going according to plan. What he needed to busy himself with was the expansion of Port Patkara and to transport all spoils and immigrants back to the region.

A few days later, Claude received a report that Blancarte came uninvited once more, this time, accompanied by a council member of the region, Baron Kannelt. Claude recalled that the man was one of the shareholders of the railway company and was put in charge of designing a railway for Aueras. Did his visit mean there were complications with that project?

Blancarte easily got to meet Claude. After they met, he immediately stated the purpose of his visit. He was there about reinforcements, railways and the lease. Additionally, he told Claude the surprising news that Arbeit Sen Ferd had come to see him on behalf of their mother to ask him for support to develop their fief.

The reinforcement request was actually from Reddragon. Unlike Thundercrash and the allied noble army, Reddragon operated with the most standard protocols. They killed anyone that resisted and spared those that cooperated, allowing the Shiksans that joined their side to help administer the territory they conquered.

Armed with the new weapons, Reddragon was put in charge of attacking the three central prefectures and the local forces weren't able to resist them. They either surrendered or were exterminated. The only thing they didn't account for was the huge consumption of ammunition. They only had around a million of the original five million rounds they got after occupying those three prefectures.

Usually, Thundercrash would gain up to a million or two million crowns from ransacking the local elite in each prefecture. The allied noble army, however, could net up to six million from their horrendous acts, including selling their captives to slavers.

Reddragon managed to earn three million crowns, mainly thanks to the prefecture itself being richer and the eager cooperation of the Shiksan officials that raised taxes to appease their conquerors. To continue to enjoy continued tax revenue from occupied territories, Reddragon had to station their troops there as a threat to those that would oppose the occupation.

Each of the three prefectures had more than ten towns. Since a town required a tribe to guard and a prefectural capital needed to be defended by a line of troops, Reddragon soon found themselves to no longer have any forces to mobilise. They couldn't possibly stop attacking, given that they had earned three million from a prefecture alone, so they requested reinforcements from the kingdom to take their place guarding the places they conquered to free them up.

The other matter concerned the railways. The original plan was for a single railway loop to be built in the kingdom across all the prefectures and the royal capital before it would be linked to Polyvisia in the Nasrian region. Then, two railways would branch out, one heading to Northbay, the Askilinian region and beyond that, the Rimodran and Sidinsian regions. The other would connect Polyvisia directly to the Sidinisian region, linking all three railways together.

The planning went without a hitch, save for their underestimation of the total budget needed to construct all those railways. Initially, Blancarte believed that 22 million crowns was enough for that project. But two years into the planning and budgeting, they found that it was only enough to finish the railways within the kingdom and to Polyvisia.

The rest spanning much of Eastern Freia required at least 30 million more crowns, so the royal court turned their attention to the region once more since they just attacked Shiks and were sure to have filled their pockets. Blancarte was there to persuade Claude to agree to invest the spoils gained in Shiks into the railway project in exchange for enjoying the benefits when it was complete.

The third issue concerned the lease of Port Patkara. The royal court heard about the huge sum that was paid in one go and thought it to be a horrible waste.

So, they began to brainstorm a plan to try to take advantage of it. Since Rimodra and Askilin were under the region's jurisdiction anyway and there were some eight port-cities in the area, they could lease them to the region just like Port Patkara too. The rent for the ports would be enough to cover the kingdom's budget for a whole decade.

CHapter 571 - Refused Requests

Claude was impressed and disgusted by the transparent delusions of the ministers in the royal court. He immediately started a heated argument with Blancarte, completely refusing to even consider cooperating with any of those requests. He refused to send reinforcements, invest in the railway, and lease the kingdom's ports.

On the matter of sending reinforcements to Reddragon, Claude mocked the king and court for seeming like they want to occupy Shiks long term. If they really insist on sending reinforcements, the region wanted no part of it and Reddragon and those reinforcements would do better to wait for death in Shiks. With the land route shut and maritime route inaccessible from the central prefectures, what would be the point of occupying them? Were they trying to found an independent duchy?

The region attacked Shiks only to wipe out the largest threat to Aueras and the region. Currently, that goal was halfway complete. All that remained was a few central prefectures and six western prefectures to sweep through. As for the eleven northern prefectures, they could be left alone. Nobody would be willing to go to the highlands just to sacrifice themselves in vain.

For Reddragon to request reinforcements now with the intent of occupying long term was nothing if not being a burden to the region. Claude clearly told Blancarte that they were free to send reinforcements if they wanted, but they shouldn't blame the region for anything that happened after Thundercrash and Typhoon retreat. The war was only supposed to be a one-off money-making trip, so Reddragon should forgive the region if they didn't intend to stay for long.

Blancarte, however, seemed rather conflicted. According to the reports Reddragon sent the kingdom, the central prefectures in Shiks seemed to be rather developed areas with a high population and trade potential. If they could occupy the region long term, each prefecture would be able to provide the kingdom 200 thousand crowns yearly in tax contributions. The three prefectures Reddragon currently occupied would be able to pay for its operating costs.

Of the fifteen central prefectures, the National Defence Army held five and the region occupied the two on the way to the royal territory and Saint Cyprean. Of the remaining eight, Reddragon held three while the other five hadn't been touched. As such, Reddragon required the troops to conquer those five prefectures for a total of eight that would generate 1.6 million crowns in taxes annually, enough to sustain three standing corps with some left over.

There were virtually no downsides; not only would they be able to unload the burden of sustaining the corps with those prefectures, they would also be able to deprive the enemy of the same benefits. Yet, Claude coldly told Blancarte that if the kingdom wanted to occupy Shiks, they might as well send a few more corps over. That way, by the time the region's troops retreated, they could hand over Saint Cyprean and the royal territory to them and wish them the best of luck in staying there.

Blancarte, however, understood that without Thundercrash, Typhoon and the eight homecoming Shiksan folks, occupying Shiks would never fly. Even Bleyotte was the region's ally, not Aueras'. Bleyotte only let the kingdom's troops through its lands on account of the region.

The moment the region retreated, Bleyotte would immediately close off the land route. By then, the kingdom wouldn't be able to send reinforcements nor retreat without Bleyotte's say so. They would even have to pay a toll to ensure passage between Aueras and Shiks. Travelling by sea was the same. Of the five Shiksan ports, two belonged to Bleyotte now while three others were in the hands of the National Defence Army. Not to mention, the kingdom didn't nearly have a fleet large enough to transport that many men like the region did.

Reddragon was counting on the region to be able to occupy the remaining central prefectures, and their departure would leave Reddragon stranded in a foreign nation. Even a few extra standing corps as reinforcements wouldn't change a thing. They would only be an eyesore to the various Shiksan factions, who would no doubt not hesitate to attack the Aueran invaders to put their patriotism on full display.

Realistically, Reddragon would be blamed for the extermination of Shiks. As long as the region's troops left, the various new Shiksan factions that emerged would start pinning the blame on Reddragon. They couldn't deal with the region because they feared their might and power, but that didn't hold true for Reddragon. Perhaps the National Defence Army might even start fighting Reddragon for territory with just cause on their side.

Claude made sure to clearly convey to Blancarte that they would soon complete the operation to clear out the nine eastern prefectures and would return to Saint Cyprean two months later. Typhoon would switch out with Thundercrash to sweep the five untouched central prefectures.

As for the faction they were going to prop up, the region had decided they would hand the territories to the National Preservation Front after they were done with them. As such, it would be best for Reddragon to give up on their long-term occupation ambitions and give up on the three conquered prefectures to move on to the rest so they could make more money before retreating.

Naturally, if the royal capital insisted on going their own way and sending reinforcements, the region wouldn't be against it as long as the kingdom didn't regret their actions nor count on the region for further aid. As a transcript of the current conversation was being made, the kingdom wouldn't be able to push any blame to the region and ought to be accountable for their own actions, especially after how the region tried to advise them to retreat.

That was all Claude was willing to talk about sending reinforcements. On the matter of the railway, Claude didn't change his stance and refused to let the region invest in the railway spanning the rest of Eastern Freia.

Blancarte did all he could to persuade him to use the spoils the region got in the war to benefit the kingdom. He also highlighted the benefits and brought up how much the region profited after building their own railway, seeing as how the shares of the railway company grew severalfold.

Claude merely gave him a cold smirk and took out a map of Eastern Freia before asking Blancarte whether the kingdom itself invested a single crown in the rest of Eastern Freia. The simple fact was they didn't. They even left the security to the region's troops because they couldn't bear the costs themselves. Not to mention, those regions were ravaged by war and were suffering economically. Industry and trade seemed a far cry from growing prosperous and they could only barely rely on agriculture for basic income to keep public services running.

Since building a railway there had the strategic advantage to the kingdom in how it could make up for the locals' suffering throughout the war and increase the kingdom's influence in the area by building a united national identity, the kingdom should invest in it even if it faced economic difficulties. However, they shouldn't try to coax the region into investing on the promise of economic returns as the railway was completely meaningless to them.

Claude immediately made some bill calculations on the spot. If the region invested in the railway there, it would take at least three to five decades for them to break even. While Blancarte still wasn't satisfied, the numbers were what they were. The downtrodden economy in the area meant that it would take a long time before trade and industry could resume. Most of the towns were merely kept alive by small-time businesses. There were no large companies investing there and starting large factories.

Not to mention, the region already owned the whole coast of the eastern region and their expansive maritime routes already played the role of the railways. Furthermore, coastal sailing took even less time than trains would, given that the trains only had an average speed of around 16 kilometres an hour. So, the construction of the railway wasn't only a waste of effort, it would also not turn any profit.

When Blancarte commented on how stingy Claude was for not reinvesting one bit of the spoils into the kingdom, Claude made a pained smile and said the spoils didn't belong entirely to him or the region. They had to be distributed by the region's council and much of the spoils would be invested in Northbay.

Additionally, the region was short on funding, especially with how the liberation on the western front was ongoing. As the mastermind, the region had invested more than ten million crowns so far, and they would require another 30 million in the years to come. As for recouping those investments, that could only happen once the independent nations of the natives stabilised.

Since Claude had refused those two requests, he would naturally refuse the third. As expected, Claude mocked the court for being delusional enough to think that the region would lease away ports that were already in the region's jurisdiction.

What Blancarte didn't understand, however, was why Claude spent so much money on the lease with Bleyotte. When he got the news, he scrutinised the map and Port Patkara and collected all sorts of information he could, but didn't notice any significance or difference between it and other ports. Not to mention, the region did state it was going to have its troops retreat, so what was the point of having a military base there?

Claude got his red pen and drew a line across Port Patkara to Northbay. He told the prime minister that while the route didn't seem to have much military significance, it did have a lot of economic significance. Soon, it would be a route of gold.

Blancarte was no fool and immediately realised what the region planned to do with that route. It wasn't only a simple matter of maintaining the region's influence and presence on Shiksan lands. The region would also stand to profit off trading with the area, and the time the investment would be recouped wouldn't be that long either.

So, Blancarte carefully looked at the port cities in the eastern region in hopes that he could pick one to develop and enjoy a piece of the golden trade route.

Claude straightforwardly asked him to dream on. Without investing any bit of money into the eastern region's port cities, the kingdom would find it hard pressed to earn a single penny without waiting another two to three decades for the port cities to develop naturally before they could take a dip into the profits of the golden trade route.

"But isn't Port Floric a good place to develop?" Blancarte argued.

Claude chuckled. "Port Floric is the largest and most complete port city in Rimodra. It also used to be the naval base of the Alliance during the First Great Eastern Freian War. Later, when Prince Hansbach retreated from the civil war to conquer the eastern region, he also made that his base and ended up assassinated there.

"After we decided to join in the Second Great Eastern Freian War, Thundercrash conquered Port Floric and took the Union off guard and fought all our way to Polyvisia in Nasri to make that our foundational base in the war, allowing Aueras to turn the tables from certain defeat to victory. Now, Aueras is the hegemon of Eastern Freia.

"So, Port Floric became an important supply base for us in the eastern region and was renovated and maintained. That's the main reason it looks more developed than other port cities and has nothing to do with the royal capital at all, who had been ignoring it for the most part."

When Blancarte mentioned how well developed the port was, he gave Claude a perfect chance to humiliate him. "Lord Prime Minister, do you know the main reason Port Floric seems much more developed than other port cities along the eastern coast?

"That's because it has been the main supply base of our forces. Most of the crop harvests in Rimodra are congregated there for our fleet to purchase. We make our trades at the fair market rate and managed to inject some life into Port Floric.

"It's a shame that after so many years of effort, Port Floric remains a mere outlet for agricultural goods without growing to accommodate a much bigger market. Most Rimodran farmers trade their goods away there and return without buying much of the region's goods. The people in that region are far more used to living off the land and sustaining themselves."

That little lecture was the wake-up call Blancarte needed. Not only did Claude not accept any of his three requests, he even had a good laugh at his expense, much to Blancarte's distress. Though, there was nothing he could do about it, with Claude having stated the region's clear refusal to cooperate.

The kingdom would have to be responsible for their own reinforcements and wouldn't receive any investments from the region on the railway, given that would be introducing competition to their transport fleet in the first place. As for leasing ports, it was even more laughable. The region didn't have an eye on any of those abandoned port cities on the eastern coast.

"Do you have any methods we can use to gather funds for the railway?" Blancarte finally asked.

"Sell railroad bonds with high returns in the form of dividends. For instance, within a three-year or five-year period, the bond prices would increase by 1.25 to 1.5 times. Sell a set amount each year, five million crowns' worth for example. The railway needs a few years to complete anyways, so the funds can be slowly raised by selling bonds according to how much is needed. If the interest rate grows too high, sell even more bonds away. You can pay back the bonds once the railway starts generating profits."

"Then is there any of the kingdom's ports that the region is interested in leasing?"

"There is," Claude said, "Whitestag. If the kingdom is willing to lease Whitestag, we'd be willing to pay double the rent of Port Patkara. However, the lease must last a period of 99 years."

Blancarte immediately quieted down. The kingdom would definitely not agree to that demand. Whitestag was a central city in the three southwestern prefectures and central to intercontinental trade. Once developed, it would instantly turn Whitestag into a treasure trove.

Blancarte could do nothing but leave crestfallenly.

Claude turned to his adjutant, Fachselin, and asked, "Is my self-proclaimed elder brother Arbeit waiting in the meeting room? Have him come in. I'd like to hear what he has to say."

Soon, Arbeit reunited with Claude for the first time after some two decades of not meeting. Unlike what Claude imagined, the flirtatious, stingy, cowardly, pathetic excuse of an elder brother that hated his younger siblings had grown into a steady-looking, middle-aged gentleman. Graciously, he thanked Fachselin and greeted Claude with a smile. "Long time no see, Claude."

Claude looked back at him expressionlessly. "I'd like to know where that 'Sen' sobriquet in your name came from. I remember choosing 'Han' to be my sobriquet."

Chapter 572 - Arbeit's Past

Back when Claude was created an honorary baron of the kingdom by Stellin X, he chose Han to be his sobriquet to remember his past life by. Naturally, his official excuse was he picked it to honour his benefactor, Prince Hansbach, hence using part of his name as the sobriquet. From that moment onwards, Claude's full address was Baron Claude Han Ferd.

As Claude's family members, his mother, wife, sister and little brother all basked in Claude's limelight, so they could use that sobriquet for themselves too. As Claude's noble Title and status rose, the Han sobriquet became a signature mark of House Ferd. For instance, Claude even made their family insignia a golden shield with the word Han in the middle.

Yet, Arbeit now introduced himself as Arbeit Sen Ferd, much to Claude's surprise. Since when did House Ferd's sobriquet change to Sen? Not to mention, shouldn't his rank only be that of a hereditary baron, seeing that he upgraded from an honorary viscount Title? Why would Arbeit be using the viscount Title then?

"Haha, Claude, this is actually Mother's decision," Arbeit said with a calm smile, "Mother said that House Ferd only managed to rise to such heights thanks to Father's discovery of the new trade route, so she requested His Majesty to change the house sobriquet to Sen to commemorate Father. However, His Majesty said changing the house's sobriquet required your explicit approval, so Mother only asked for hers and my sobriquet to be changed."

Claude smiled, but his expression still seemed cold. "It's understandable. I'm sure Mother has her own plans. Perhaps she sees this as letting the house returning on its right track. After all, you, the eldest son, is back to inherit the family name. I'm sure she must be satisfied. Now, what did you come to see me for?"

Arbeit sincerely lowered his head to apologise. "Claude, due to the folly of youth back then, I didn't fulfil my duties as the elder sibling to you and our brother and sister. After the passing of so many years, I came to regret it deeply. But I am also happy to hear that you all have been doing quite well. Apologising to you was the first reason I came to visit. As for the other... Mother asked me to come to ask for your help."

Claude shook his head with a smile. "Tell me, what is Mother up to again? I know she wouldn't think of us if she didn't want anything. As for your apology, forget it. We don't deserve a brother like you. Arbeit, you may be able to hide it from Mother, but you won't fool the three of us. We know what kind of person you are. Actually, I feel better now that Mother changed your sobriquet. We are no longer family."

Claude's words did indeed hit the mark. Madam Ferd changed the sobriquet with the intention of making House Sen Ferd the main house and House Han Ferd as the branch. With a different sobriquet, the two houses were separate entities. Claude trusted that his brother and sister would follow him and use him without changing. Not to mention, Bloweyk could finally bear the Han Ferd name. He had relinquished it because their mother's actions had killed Adele. But now, he could finally reclaim the name since their mother now belonged to a separate household.

"No, no, no, Claude, people change," Arbeit hurriedly said, "I wronged you all, but it was due to my youth and inexperience. Whitestag was my whole world back then. But as I travelled Freia I experienced a lot and realised I can only truly trust and rely on my family. Even if we have different sobriquets, the same blood still flows in our veins, our father's--"

Claude stretched his finger out and shook it in front of Arbeit's face.

"I'm busy. I don't have time for your platitudes. Just tell me what Mother wants."

As the head of the region's military administration, Claude had more than enough weight to throw around. There was also the fact that he was the kingdom's Lord Militant and a hereditary count, so Arbeit didn't dare to bring up their blood relation once Claude had shot it down. He forced a smile, but felt his body shrivel. He lost his gentlemanly aura entirely.

"W-well... Mother wants you to pay the loan she owes the king and give us fief support.  She owes the king a million crowns. She even wrote you a letter."

Arbeit took out the letter his mother had written and put it on the table in front of Claude. Claude's fury overtook him and several burning laughs escaped his mouth.

"I would really like to know why other people's fiefs and elevation cost only 500 thousand crowns while Mother's cost a million."

"That's because Father's honorary Title is that of a viscount, so Mother spent another 500 thousand to get His Majesty's help to elevate me to hereditary viscount. That way, our fief can be larger," Arbeit explained.

Who knew that was even possible? The king and queen really had ways of making money. Claude was almost impressed. For all his effort in mobilising Thundercrash, Typhoon, and the eight homecoming Shiksan folks, not to mention planning the Shiks' invasion, he only got some ten million crowns and he had to put in lots of effort to ship his prize back too.

Yet, the king and queen could devise get-rich-quick schemes that worked just by lazing around on their thrones, managing to get another 500 thousand crowns out of his mother just like that. Should word of that get out, many more nobles might be willing to pay that sum to be made a hereditary viscount, as a viscounty encompassed a town and two villages while a baron's only had a village the size of Squirrel if they were lucky.

"I won't. I'm not even worth a million crowns. Since you're going to inherit the Sen Ferd household and its Title, its debts are your responsibility. It is none of my concern."

Did mothers who screwed their sons like that even exist? Claude was completely speechless. Madam Ferd only thought about him when she wanted to spend money. She didn't even consider the fact that Morssen's achievements wouldn't have been acknowledged if not for Claude. Perhaps he was far too lenient on his mother's actions to the point she became a laughing stock of the kingdom.

Nobody would be happy to be slapped with a debt of a million crowns out of nowhere. Claude suspected that the annual income of the viscounty won't even be enough to pay off the interest of that million-crown loan. As expected, Arbeit panicked.

"Why wouldn't you have that? Mother said you could easily get two or three million crowns if you use your shares of the tobacco factory! Isn't the tobacco factory a household asset? Mother only incurred that debt to pay back our household debts..."

"Hahaha... What does Mother have to do with the factory? Has she done anything to the benefit of the factory? It's House Han Ferd's asset, not Sen Ferd's. She should learn that we are no longer the same family."

Claude gave the goatskin parchment another glance and burst out laughing again.

"What... what does she want three thousand new rifles for?! Robbery? Ten thousand goats, a thousand cows, two thousand luxury carriages, eight sets of premium court cutlery and two carriages' worth of jewellery... and she dares to demand another ten thousand crowns of allowance on top of that? What does she take me for? A bank?"

"T-the nobles that came back from Shiks said you made a killing and hit the jackpot in Saint Cyprean, unlike them. They had to toil hard in the western prefectures... They said you would be richer by ten's of millions of crowns after this. Mother's only asking you for a small bit of it," Arbeit said fearfully at the sight of Claude's rage.

"This is a small bit?--" Claude slammed the parchment on his desk. "--This is the lion's share! Do you think the spoils are mine alone?! Let me tell you... If I dare to agree to give Mother all this, I will be court-martialed tomorrow!"

"B-but aren't you the Lord Militant and commander-in-chief of the region's military?"

The pitiful Arbeit didn't understand the governance of the region at all. The way he saw it, Claude called all the shots since he was commander-in-chief, and his word was all that was needed to get the spoils. Had that been the case, Bolonik wouldn't have had to step down from the military administration for agreeing to the arms deal with the kingdom without the others' approval back then.

"Whatever. There's no point explaining to you since you wouldn't get it. Tell me, for what does she want the rifles?"

The other demands in the parchment could be explained by his mother wanting to show off. However, the three thousand rifles definitely wasn't something his mother would think of asking for. Arbeit definitely played a part in that, so Claude was curious to know his intentions.

"T-this..." Arbeit hesitated for a long moment before he stammered, "I only w-want to form a guard force... That way we can go on the battlefield like other nobles to make some money..."

Claude smirked again. It was pointless to go any further. He might as well send Arbeit off quickly.

"Do you know how much it costs to feed our troops? And are you trying to revolt with three thousand rifles? A viscounty is usually only defended by a clan of 200-odd men. How could you afford to sustain thousands of troops for war when the fief is barely able to support itself? Do you think a simple commoner will become a good soldier just because he has a rifle? Aren't you worried about them shooting you in the back for how you treat them? You're delusional..."

Claude pulled on the bell-rope near his desk. Fachselin entered a second later.

"How may I be of service?"

"Captain, you have all my salary, right? How much do I have?"

"I collected your salary from last year on your behalf. You have 103528 crowns. I have a detailed record of your account," Fachselin replied.

"Get me ten thousand-crown notes."

"Understood." Soon, Fachselin returned with those notes.

"Arbeit, these ten thousand crowns are the last bit of help you'll get from me. Consider it a parting gift from my family to yours. I will have nothing to do with any of you from now on.

"Captain Fachselin, take him to the logistics department to pick one royal Shiksan carriage, two sets of court cutlery, and a thousand Shiksan-made firearms and appropriate ammunition. Take the costs out of my salary. I trust the other three thousand crowns should be enough to cover it."

Arbeit seemed to want to say something, but Claude chased him out before he had the chance.

Borkal came in later and opened a bottle of wine without asking yet again.

"What's wrong? You look exhausted."

"I'm mentally drained--" He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "--You bastard... you're here to sneak a drink at my wine again, aren't you? Didn't you notice you've been gaining weight lately?"

Borkal poured himself a glass of wine. "Was that fellow just now Arbeit? He looks a little familiar from afar."

As Claude's childhood friend, Borkal was quite familiar with Claude's completely dissimilar elder brother.

Claude nodded and told Borkal what happened.

"Your mother..." Borkal sighed and shook his head. "I really don't know what to say. I suppose it's good that the households are split now. They won't be able to cause you any trouble in the future. However, Claude, I'd like to remind you that Arbeit might still be a thorn in your foot. I recall that the prefecture of Simlock has issued an arrest warrant for him. It still hasn't been cancelled."

Claude's eyes snapped open. "What?! Arbeit's a fugitive?! What in the world did he do?!"

Simlock was one of the three southwestern prefectures of the kingdom that neighbour Whitestag and Balivia. It was a rural place with conservative citizens. Claude recalled that Borkal's aunt was wedded into a rather well-off family in that prefecture.

"Didn't I tell you I served in a keeper tribe in Banjilia? When the First Great War broke out, my unit was in the second batch to be sent to the frontlines. A few days before we were mobilised, a marriage fraud took place in the prefectural capital of Banjilia. A baroness by the name of Audrey widowed for many years had most of her assets swindled away. That incident is pretty well known locally and caused quite a lot of commotion.

"The scammer went by the name of Captain Jerad, a logistics officer of the kingdom's army that came to Banjilia to investigate the quality of supplies to be sent to the frontlines. He met the 34-year-old baroness and they fell deeply in love. They decided to get married a month later. The marriage was only to take place after Jerad's family came to join the ceremony. The supplies came up short before then, so Baroness Audrey took out most of her assets to temporarily make up for the shortage.

"The captain disappeared two days before the ceremony. The baroness thought he had an urgent mission to take care of and contacted the ministry of the army. She was told there was no one by that name and rank on their personnel sheets. An investigation revealed they had all been had. Captain Jerad was a scammer and made off with most of the baroness' assets. So, the wanted poster of the captain was put up. I saw it and noticed that he looked like Arbeit.

"Then, I went to the frontlines. When I returned after the war, I took up a post as a tribesman in Banjilia's keeperage. During one banquet I attended, I heard someone bring up the matter again. It seemed that the baroness took down the wanted notice to not risk any more public embarrassment. However, she's still secretly looking for that scammer," Borkal explained.

"Are you sure Captain Jerad is Arbeit?" Claude asked with a furrowed brow.

"You should know how sharp my eyes are. Be they goods or people, my eyes don't lie to me. Not to mention, how would I not know it's Arbeit after seeing him so often in my childhood? I know the depiction on the wanted poster is slightly off and shows him in military attire, but I could tell right away that it's Arbeit.

"Not to mention, Arbeit should've left Whitestag for some two years already by that time. You wrote to me that he abandoned you lot and your mother was asking around for word of him. However, nobody in Whitestag really paid attention to him, and since he became that Sir Fux's secretary, he only worked in the manor for the most part. Normal merchants don't really remember him either, so nobody in Simlock really knows about him.

"However, Baroness Audrey is still around. If she meets Arbeit, she'll definitely recognise him. I heard the baroness didn't plan to get a fief from the king and has always stayed in her manor in Banjilia. It's likely she'll live out the rest of her life there. As for others who've met 'Captain Jerad' before, they've probably forgotten about the matter already, so Arbeit's probably fine here. But just in case..."

Claude nodded his understanding at what Borkal was hinting at. It would be really humiliating for a Lord Militant's elder brother to be a scammer, even if their households were now separated.

"Let's not talk about this anymore," Claude said, changing the subject. "You didn't just come to drink wine, did you?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. I just received word from the northlands in Shiks. I came to report."

Chapter 573 - Two Letters and the National Preservation Fund

"I don't know how to say it, but I believe that our region is blessed by the war god. Claude, did you know why Duke Pillag Xi Feriot didn't make any movements at all? I just got word from the northlands that the duke has been recovering from injuries since half a year back," Borkal said.

"Recovering?" Claude shot him a doubtful look. That could be the true reason behind the duke's apathy despite the slow demise of his nation.

"That's right." Borkal nodded, fully aware of Claude's guardedness against the duke. The duke used to be the commander-in-chief of the Union, after all, and managed an early retreat to deprive Claude of the complete victory. Claude only considered adept and sharp commanders like the Shiksan duke as his true adversaries.

However, he completely didn't expect that the duke wouldn't react to his deployment of Thundercrash and Typhoon in Saint Cyprean, the royal territory, eight southern prefectures and nine eastern prefectures at all. The region didn't have long-term informants deep in the northern highlands, and the new ones they just sent there only just returned with concrete news.

"Even most of the Shiksan nobles aren't aware of the duke's injury. Word is that House Feriot immediately put out a gag order about it to prevent Majid III from discovering it. There was definitely the possibility of the king summoning the injured and old noble to the royal capital and work him to death, after all.

"With his injury more or less healed up in the course of half a year, the household relaxed somewhat. Coupled with the fact that whether Shiks would survive our attack is still unknown, some of the household's servants let the secret loose unintentionally. Our informants managed to hook up with a maidservant working in the household and he heard about this from her as they were making merry.

"That maidservant said that the duke was stripped of his military rank by the mad Majid III, causing the duke to shut himself in out of disappointment. Right before our troops came knocking on Shiks' door, chaos broke out with one of the northern barbarian nations. When the duke was out quelling the chaos, he was unlucky enough to be shot in the right chest by a hidden barbarian shooter.

"As the barbarians dip their bullets in faeces and poison, the duke's gunshot wound got badly infected and he was almost beyond saving. Then, a mysterious doctor came and used a kind of weird maggot to eat up the rotting flesh around the wound. The saliva it spat also formed a film around the bleeding wound and managed to save the duke. But due to the seriousness of the wound, he still had to recover for half a year."

It was no wonder the duke didn't make any moves, asking even the two Shiksan standing corps to stand guard at the border of the northern lands, allowing the Duke of Sunset River to gather a force of 300 thousand to sweep through the ten western prefectures and declare himself king. Had Duke Feriot been in good shape, he might've suppressed the Duke of Sunset River without letting him leave the eleven northern prefectures.

Though, there was no discounting the possibility that Duke Feriot intentionally let the other duke go to test out the region's mettle. With a long half a year of rest, he had plenty time to consider his next move that would set his and his household's fate in stone.

Nevertheless, Duke Feriot had lost the initiative. He was barely able to hold his own. Claude didn't want to provoke the Duke of the Northlands at all. The way he saw it, once he conquered the remaining six western prefectures and allowed the final batch of homecoming Shiksans, the invasion would come to a perfect close. There was no longer any need to sacrifice the previous lives of the troops to fight it out with the duke.

"Well, then, I'll write two letters for you. Find me two reliable messengers and send them to the Duke of the Northlands and Duke of Sunset River," Claude told Borkal. If possible, he didn't want to attack the remaining six prefectures either. After all, the Duke of Sunset River had hundreds of thousands of troops. He should have a total of 300 thousand if the garrison forces in those prefectures was included. Typhoon would have to pay quite a steep price to conquer them all.

Borkal nodded and sipped at his wine as Claude penned the letters. Starting with pointless pleasantries, Claude went on to write about how he had to attack Shiks to deal with a stubborn king like Majid III. Otherwise, Aueras and the region wouldn't be able to enjoy any peace in the following decade. Only by dealing with him could their dream for peace come true.

When he heard Borkal mention that Duke Feriot had kept word of his injuries secret to Majid III, it meant he wasn't fully loyal to the Shiksan royal family and should know that Claude meant what he said. Having such an obstinate king really was quite a huge trouble for the ministers and subordinates of the king. If only Majid III admitted to his losses earlier and signed a peace treaty, Claude wouldn't have thought about going after Shiks at all. The disastrous invasion could have been prevented.

Claude wrote that he wouldn't send his troops to the eleven northern prefectures as none of the soldiers from his homecoming Shiksan folks were from that region. Back then, the nobles that rebelled were concentrated in the western, central, eastern and southern regions of the nation. They were only punished and sent to fight a war on Nubissia because the rebellion failed.

Had the Shiksan king agreed to let the region release Shiksan captives back, the war wouldn't have happened in the first place. Yet, Majid III declared the returnees traitors and hanged them once they were captured, resulting in the remaining 500 plus thousand captives in the region to fume with rage.

Two years back, Majid III also noticed the formation of the voluntary Shiksan folks in the region and intended to use them to get Shiks another colony on Nubissia, so he sent ambassadors there to cause trouble. That was the final straw that prompted Claude to attack Shiks to rid himself of that eyesore.

Claude candidly said that he wouldn't occupy a single inch of Shiksan land after the war and would retreat once the homecoming Shiksans brought their families away. So, he hoped that he wouldn't run into any trouble with House Feriot. In not attacking the eleven prefectures, the region also hoped that the Duke of the Northlands would stay within his territory, lest their troops came to blows out of misunderstandings that could've been prevented.

The letter to Duke Feriot was sealed in wax. Next came the letter to the Duke of Sunset River. Claude got straight to the point in this one and only stated a few conditions. He mentioned that the six remaining western prefectures would be the region's next target. If the duke surrendered without a fight, Claude would hand over Saint Cyprean in his care once the region retreated from Shiks.

Those conditions would definitely prompt the duke to consider his options. Saint Cyprean and the royal territory were the most developed of the Shiksan lands, unlike the rural ten western prefectures. Not to mention, the duke was also a member of the Shiksan royal family. He had all the right to occupy the capital and declare himself the rightful heir to the throne before rebuilding the nation. Though, whether the other factions submitted themselves to his rule was another matter altogether.

Claude had no choice but to offer those conditions. Initially, he had planned to pass the remaining ten prefectures, the capital and the royal territory to a branch faction. But now, the military administration decided that the National Preservation front wouldn't be appropriate. To be franker, they were merely a military organisation that sided with the region to maintain local security.

The leader of the National Preservation Front was a baron who was among the first to surrender to the region. While he was a Shiksan noble, his household had always been rather broke. The baron himself even had to work his own lands. Back when the troops were sent to capture him, they had trouble identifying who the noble was. He seemed even poorer than the average town citizen.

However, the baron, named Klaus, was quite an opportunist and submitted to the region's troops almost immediately, becoming a collaborator for the invasion. Since their arrival in the first central prefecture, Westmon, he led Thundercrash to capture all nobles and local officials along the way as well as rich tycoons. Not a single one of them managed to escape. He was even aware of how much wealth each of the arrested persons had.

One of the majors of Thundercrash curiously asked why the baron knew so much about the wealth of others, only to be strapped in for a long sob story. The baron's father had a dream to get rich by discovering mines, so he spent all his assets and even mortgaged off all the household had to incur a debt, only to be scammed. The land he bought from someone was barren and had no mineable resources at all. The household had been weighed down by the debt since.

Before his father passed, he and his two other siblings kept pushing the Title off to one another, neither wanting to inherit the household. Their fief had already been mortgaged anyway, and inheriting the Title and household meant inheriting the debt. So, they decided to settle the matter by drawing lots and the baron got the unlucky pull. He knew all about the wealthy people because he had borrowed money from them before.

At the end of the day, he was a smart one and knew that the interest owed to a debtor would only increase as time passed. So, he decided to borrow money from a certain rich man to pay off another. That way, he continuously paid his debts from one debtor to another and was slowly able to repay the full debt in time. For instance, he split a debt of ten thousand into 20 debts of 500. That way, he could pay off one each year to decrease the interest he owed as time passed.

But with the arrival of the region, he managed to wipe out all his debt at once as a collaborator. He could also pick up the scraps after Thundercrash was finished with their raiding and eventually got quite rich. Due to his good performance, he was appointed to be the person in charge of the local garrison forces made up from other collaborators like him to form the National Preservation Front whose main purpose was run the region's errands.

Claude really didn't understand why Borkal initially held them up to be a splinter Shiksan faction to be upheld. They were nothing but lowly collaborators loyal to the region, but without any abilities. Claude was quite unhappy with that decision, but those at the military administration complained that they weren't able to find a good replacement in that short an amount of time, so it would be better to just let those obedient collaborators enjoy some benefits.

The problem was the collaborators weren't fit for what the region had planned! Even if Borkal said they had potential and would grow if they had enough time and opportunity, those were rare commodities they could not afford. Take for instance the three prefectures Reddragon gave up on to go on raiding other prefectures once Claude told them they wouldn't be getting reinforcements to hold the prefectures.

Frontline command sent the National Preservation Front to take over the three prefectures abandoned by Reddragon, only for them to be beaten back by the local garrison that joined Reddragon's side. In the end, Typhoon sent their light cavalry to defeat those forces and made a small profit before the National Preservation Front could form a firm foundation in those prefectures.

With the mediocre capabilities of the National Preservation Front, they wouldn't be able to compete with the other two factions to form a delicate three-way power balance in Shiks. One of the other factions was the Duke of the Northlands that held great sway in their household fief, and the other was the National Defence Army led by Count Mullids Jay Kreist, who had lots of loyal men. The National Preservation Front couldn't even compare.

In fact, if the ten central prefectures were split among those in the National Preservation Front, they would no doubt dissolve and fight among themselves the moment Claude and his men left. The duke and count wouldn't even have to lift a finger to engineer their collapse. In fact, there would be no point to hand them Saint Cyprean and the royal territory, given how quickly they would collapse into themselves, so Claude turned his sights on the Duke of Sunset River instead.

Doing so would immediately make the National Defence Army the duke's enemy. The army would have to first deal with the duke before being able to take back the nation's capital, but behind them, the Duke of the Northlands lurked. If they didn't have a chance to crush the Duke of Sunset River in one go, they would have to work together with him to deal with the Duke of the Northlands first.

On the other hand, if the Duke of Sunset River took over Saint Cyprean, with their forces unable to match the National Defence Army, they would undoubtedly turn their sights on the National Preservation Front in the ten central prefectures. If the National Preservation Front didn't want to be swallowed up, they would have to work together with other factions to deal with the duke. That would create a fine balance in Shiks where no faction would be able to overwhelm another for a good time to come.

Claude handed the letters to Borkal to be delivered to the two dukes. He believed the Duke of the Northlands wouldn't dare act carelessly after reading the letter. They were all intelligent fellows who would avoid pointless fights if they could. But Claude wasn't sure how the Duke of Sunset Lake would react to it. It would be fine if he didn't agree to cooperate though since he would face certain demise before Typhoon.

Of the 53 Shiksan prefectures, the nine eastern prefectures were gone, with Bleyotte absorbing four of them and the other five distributed among the former vassal nations of Shiks, Suncross and Castro. Only five of the eight southern prefectures remained with the three on Manori Plains returned to Bleyotte as well.

By the time Typhoon swept through the ten western prefectures and handed them to three other neighbouring nations, Tumak, Monatro and Isabra, Shiks would only have eleven central prefectures, five southern prefectures, 15 central prefectures and one royal territory remaining.

Splitting the remaining territory into four factions would make each faction about as powerful as a normal duchy. Shiks would no longer be able to rise once more to cause trouble for Aueras or the autonomous region. Now, Claude just wanted them to fight it out amongst themselves and render Shiks barren.

Chapter 574 - Reply and Captives

A month later, as Typhoon was sweeping through the four remaining central prefectures, Reddragon objected strongly. They demanded one of the central prefectures be left to them. A prefecture would be able to net them two to three million crowns of profit. Once they were done raiding it, they would be free to go back. Having not suffered that many casualties in the Shiksan invasion and returning with close to ten million crowns would make their campaign extremely successful.

However, Claude didn't satisfy their desire to raid. He merely told them it was their own fault for moving so slowly. Typhoon would definitely not give away what they already had in their hands. Just as they were still fussing about the matter with Reddragon, Claude received a reply from the two dukes.

Duke Feriot's reply was simple: as long as the region's troops didn't enter the eleven northern prefectures, he wouldn't budge, as his sole mission was to defend them. However, he did criticise the troops of the region for raiding the Shiksan prefectures and sent a list of around a thousand names along with the letter.

"This is the list of nobles that have something to do with House Feriot and their relatives. Duke Feriot hopes that we will hand those people to him," Borkal explained, "I ran a check and found that most of them are in our captive camps. Only a little more than ten are unaccounted for."

"Then we'll hand them over. We'd be feeding them for free otherwise anyway, and we don't have any use for them. Release those that want to tag along too. We already have more than 200 thousand captives, so losing a few thousand wouldn't be a big deal. Since the Duke of the Northlands gave us that least, we ought to oblige him and show that we aren't intent on opposing him, nor do we hope he would attack us. Our goal has been achieved," Claude decided.

"Alright, I'll send them to the northern highlands tomorrow."

"What about the Duke of Sunset River's letter?" Claude asked.

Borkal shook his head. "The reply isn't with me. The duke sent a messenger with the letter, and he said he wants to meet you."

"Alright. I'll give that messenger half an hour at ten tomorrow morning. You've seen the messenger, right? Do you have a hint on his intentions?"

"He looks a little hesitant. The conditions you offered the duke sound too good to be true, after all. I believe anyone would think your offer through twice," Borkal said with a smile. He didn't have a good feeling that the duke would do as Claude wished.

"Well, we'll see him first before we decide on anything. Since the duke is willing to send a messenger here, that means he is moved by the offer. The issue is he isn't able to make sure whether we're trying to trick him. Or, the messenger was sent with another goal in mind. Maybe they're trying to check our forces out."

Claude met the messenger the next morning. The man was in his sixties and had a long beard. It was apparent that the old man took great care of his facial hair. At the very least, his beard smelled of fragrant oil and looked far better cared for than his head of balding hair.

"Lord Militant Claude, my master, Duke of Sunset River, Nirtoz Surt Shiks, sends his greetings," said the old man with an on-point bow.

"Sit as you please," Claude said, waving the pleasantries away. "What's your name? By the way, do you want red tea or fruit wine?"

"Oh, thank you. Red tea would do." The old man remained respectfully standing. "Lord Militant, I am Kazik Biphanc, a butler of my master's household."

"Captain Fachselin, pour him some red tea. Since you're the duke's butler, that must mean he trusts you greatly. It's no wonder he had you send the letter."

"The letter is here. Please take a look." The old man respectfully put the letter on Claude's desk.

"Take a seat. We'll resume after I read it." Claude inspected the wax seal before opening it.

The duke's letter didn't strike Claude as any bit surprising. Half of the first page was full of praises for Claude, while the rest detailed the troubles the duke was facing, such as how oppressed he felt being suppressed in his fief by the Duke of the Northlands. The main point only started at the last page. The duke said he was interested in Claude's proposition, but wanted proof that it wasn't a trap.

"Hehehe..." Claude chuckled and turned to the old man, sitting gingerly at the sofa. "How does your master want me to prove that this isn't a trap? To be honest, I can't prove it. Your master is officially an enemy of our region. I merely brought up that proposition. Since your master isn't willing to trust my words, there's no need for me to fuss over it. You can return. Tell your master he has a little more than a month. Ask him to enjoy some good food and fine women in that time, because the next time we meet, our troops in Typhoon will be sweeping through the six western prefectures you occupy."

"Oh, no..." The old man immediately jumped. "Lord Militant, please give us a little more time. I am sure that if you were in my master's shoes, you would doubt this proposition just as he does. We need more of your time and patience to establish trust and understanding."

"You're a good talker, I'll give you that. But we don't have any more time to give. Everything we do goes according to our plan. Let's frame it this way. Your master was the one spreading the slogan of driving us invaders out of Shiks in the first place. I don't really mind that, but you have to understand that we fully intend to eliminate any threats to our rear.

"I didn't write to your master and offered him Saint Cyprean and the royal territory because I was afraid of him. It isn't a whim either. I merely noticed that someone like him is what we need. It doesn't matter if you don't understand. Just tell your master to look at the current faction map of Shiks. To be frank, there's not much development potential in the six western prefectures he occupies.

"Not only are we going to send troops to attack the territories your master currently occupies, the neighbouring nations in the west like Monatro, Tumak and Isabra also have their sights on the western prefectures, which used to be theirs in the first place. It would be a great chance to reclaim lost territory for them.

"If your master doesn't listen to our proposition and remains there, not only will you be wiped out by our troops, you'll have to defend against the invasion of the three neighbouring nations. Even though your master has rallied lots of men, they are merely a disorganised mob of a few hundred thousand men. It isn't enough to secure a stable future for your master. Not to mention, the Duke of the Northlands wouldn't tolerate having such a large, threatening faction to remain near him.

"Hence my advice to your master to accept our proposition. I can only promise you that we don't hold any malicious intentions towards him, but we aren't able to prove it in the way he expects. This will be a huge gamble for your master, so it's up to him whether he wants to raise the stakes. You may return. Tell your master what I said and we'll see which decision he makes."

Claude pointed at the old man, signalling Fachselin to send him off. Fachselin hurried to the man's side and gestured respectfully for him to leave. The old man wiped off some sweat from his forehead and bowed at Claude before leaving with Fachselin.

Borkal came in right after the old man left.

"Have you dealt with it already?" Claude asked.

Borkal nodded. "I handed the list of prisoners to Colonel Myhardt. He will hand us the people in that list, but needs three days to do so. It's far too inefficient."

"I just met with the Duke of Sunset River's messenger. The duke actually wanted us to prove to him that our proposition isn't a trap," Claude mocked, "I really don't know where he gets that confidence. Does he think he is worth us going through all that trouble? I told the messenger that if he doesn't believe us, that's the end of it. It's not like he really matters anyway. I only picked him because he seemed to be ambitious and more capable than the National Preservation Front you suggested in the first place."

Borkal picked up the letter and gave it a read. "The duke probably wants you to send them a few hostages to ensure he wouldn't be plotted against."

"I know what he wants," Claude said nonchalantly, "But I don't want to go along with it. If he doesn't believe us, he's free to perish. We'll pick someone more suitable among our captives."

Upon the mention of captives, Borkal recalled something. "By the way, Colonel Myhardt at the captive camp asked whether we can release some of the standing corps troops and garrison troops we captured. Their family members come to the camp to visit them almost daily and makes the whole place really chaotic. The colonel thinks those soldiers aren't a huge threat to us, so releasing them will save us from wasting food and drink on them."

Claude scratched his head in a little embarrassment. "I think I've seen a report from the captive camp about the same thing, but I seem to have misplaced it. I think I already wrote a reply. Did I forget to send it out? Oh, it's in that folder. There's a dark-red leather folder..."

Borkal searched Claude's desk for a long while and finally located the folder. He opened it and saw the report handed in by the captive camp.

There were three categories of captives in the camp. The ones of high status were the Shiskan nobles. Captives with even higher status had been sent to the capital. The second category was the rich local tycoons they captured, the local officials and military officers. The lowest category was made up of normal garrison soldiers.

Skri had requested 50 thousand captives each to serve labour in Bleyotte and Northbay, but those 100 thousand captives were members of the Shiksan standing corps and insurgent fighters. Their transfer lightened the burden of the captive camp considerably. But as Thundercrash swept through the nine eastern prefectures while Typhoon was busy in four other central prefectures, they got another 100 thousand plus captives.

The one in charge of the captive camp, Myhardt, was not wrong in saying that the captives didn't pose much of a threat to the region, as most of the local garrison troops captured were conscripted farmers, factory workers, fishermen, small tradesman, and so on. Some captives who lived near the royal territory had their families come to the camp visit them. The family members were always gathered around teary-eyed, seeming really pitiful all the time.

Myhardt's report stated that the conscripted men were the only breadwinners of their households, so not having them around was a disaster for the whole family. Since the region didn't intend to occupy Shiksan territory, it would be better to just release the captives instead of letting them be a drain on the supplies. At worst, they could do what they did to release captives that one time by making a cut on their thigh as a marker for them to be shot dead immediately if they were captured again.

The camp with 200 thousand captives took two homecoming Shiksan folks to manage, not to mention the huge food costs it incurred. If they could decrease the number of captives by two-thirds, their burden would be greatly lightened. The region was now faced with two huge drains on their resources: the captives and the family members of the homecoming Shiksans, who weren't productive for the food they consumed. Thankfully, the wealth of Shiks meant that they got much food and supplies as spoils, which was enough to keep the freeloaders fed.

Claude had signed that he had read the document long ago. Borkal glanced at him and said, "It's no wonder Colonel Myhardt had me come ask why he didn't get a reply. What's the point of acknowledging that you've read it? They need your decision to proceed. Instead, they thought you were still considering the matter and left the document here the whole time."

"It's my bad for misplacing this document," Claude said awkwardly, though he would never shy from admitting a mistake. He signed a proper approval on the document, before something else occurred to him.

"Wait, has the military administration dealt with the proposal concerning the ten central prefectures?"

It was a proposal Claude submitted to the military administration a month ago when he came up with the idea of handing over Saint Cyprean and the royal territory to the Duke of Sunset River. As the collaborator-filled National Preservation Front didn't seem to be reliable, Claude decided that they should pick ten heads to take over each of the ten central prefectures. The National Preservation Front would be split into ten separate bodies and control each of the central prefectures, which seemed more likely to succeed.

Once the region retreated from Shiks, the ten central prefectures would be left alone. It would be fine no matter whether they chose to fight each other or form an alliance. Eventually, the strongest among them would emerge the powerful victor. Claude believed it would be a good way to whip the National Preservation Front into shape.

"It's already underway," Borkal said, "But Reddragon and Typhoon are still sweeping five central prefectures, so the National Preservation Front is split and assigned those territories, but are still waiting for the transfer."

Claude quickly drafted another reply. "Take this to them and let them have the split bodies recruit from the captive camp until each of them have something of a garrison line. Arm them with the Shiksan gear we got as spoils. Make sure they prioritise the locals of each prefecture for the recruitment. Only then can control be maintained. As for the other captives, make a cut on their thighs as Colonel Myhardt had suggested. The next time we catch them, we'll shoot them dead."

"Understood. I'll get to it immediately."

"Wait, there's something else. Go to the messenger of the Duke of Sunset River again. There are some things I am not fit to say, but you can. Tell him our plan, that is, the region plans to splinter Shiks into a balance of many powers, and tell him it would be the best opportunity for his master to control the royal capital.

"I can't give him proof, but his master can send his personal force into the nearest prefecture neighbouring the royal territory before we leave. I'll send a folk there to monitor them just in case. When we finally leave, he'll be able to enter Saint Cyprean and the royal territory earlier than anyone else and we'll even leave some arms in the city for him."

Chapter 575 - General Siegfeld's Development Plan

The Duke of Sunset Lake, Nirtoz, had committed a grave mistake by considering himself an equal to Claude. That was why he sent a messenger to personally deliver the letter to him and questioned Claude's intentions directly and demanded Claude to provide incontrovertible proof for his personal safety. As far as Nirtoz was concerned, his demand was nothing if not reasonable, but that only caused Claude to take the man for a fool who didn't understand his own place.

It was akin to a subordinate questioning a leader about a plan and demanding him to ensure his personal interests wouldn't be harmed. If someone like that existed in a drama serial, it wouldn't take two episodes for that person to be isolated and fired.

However, everything turned for the better with Borkal dealing with the duke. There were some things Claude couldn't tell the duke directly because of his status, but Borkal wouldn't have a problem with doing. However, Borkal would have to take the risk to go to the duke's personal abode as a guest and act with him until the duke's troops reached Saint Cyprean.

The department of intelligence's plan was for Nirtoz to pick out a corps of elite troops to head to the central prefectures Typhoon had already swept through first with the excuse of surprise attacking Saint Cyprean. Then, they would encounter a folk of homecoming Shiksans and enter a state of battle. The standoff would last for two to three months before the region's troops finally retreat, after which Nirtoz could retake Saint Cyprean with his troops.

The plan had the advantage of hiding the fact that he was collaborating with the region a secret from his allies and frame him as a hero of Shiks instead. Even if there were no conflicts between his forces and the region's, he could still later declare that his preparation to go into battle was what drove the invaders away from their capital.

Not only that, the duke could use his plan to deal with his allies. After Borkal got into contact with the duke, he soon found that his force of 200 thousand was incredibly complicated. There were some local officials that came to join him with their local garrison forces to see what it was all about and some nobles who came with their personal forces. They were a disjointed and chaotic force and the duke was merely a figurehead for them all.

However, Nirtoz wasn't completely incompetent. He had a folk of personal troops that he used to keep his other allies in check. But once he entered the six western prefectures, he noticed the cracks in his force when his allies argued amongst each other for territory and supplies. As such, Claude's letter to him came just as the right time to save him from that predicament. However, he mistook Claude as the enemy's commander-in-chief on the same level as he and sent his butler there, only for him to be refused and given a kick out.

Fortunately, Borkal managed to find that butler later and establish contact between the two sides once more. It was only after Borkal explained to the duke that he came to understand his mistaken actions. However, he was someone who admitted to his mistakes and tried to correct them, so he offered Borkal large amounts of treasure and worked with him to go along with the region's plans.

Next, Nirtoz showed his allies how gracious he was in not wanting a single piece of territory in the six western prefectures, dividing it among them instead. Though, he had only one request: that was to allow him to pick some elite men out from their own forces to join a stronger, united force which he could use to fight the enemies off and retake Saint Cyprean.

To his allies, Nirtoz was like a saint with no want of land and bore only the desire to resurrect Shiks. While they would lose some of their elite troops, the safety of the six western prefectures could be ensured with the duke at the helm. So, they agreed to his demand and took the initiative to provide food and supplies for the campaign, completely oblivious to the fact that the duke had sold them out for a high price.

When the duke departed on his campaign, Borkal took a tent of men along with him disguised as a small band of merchants to meet up with the duke. In fact, they were going there as hostages, but their cover story was they were a tent of scouts the duke sent out that have returned to report what they found to him.

With Borkal guiding Nirtoz's way, things went rather smoothly. Nirtoz's subordinates were also aware that they were on their way to launch a surprise attack on Saint Cyprean, so they endeavoured to keep a low profile during the journey. But when they finally reached the prefecture nearest to the royal capital, Lupus, they discovered an enemy camp in their way and many light cavalrymen patrolling nearby. The situation was rather tense.

Having no other choice and not wanting his troops to be discovered, Nirtoz had no choice but to head to the mountain area to the right and found a good cavern for his troops to stop for a rest. He then sent some informants to investigate the enemies, Borkal's men included. However, few of the informants returned, though most of Borkal's men did, and they delivered a surprising piece of news.

It appeared that Typhoon started their attack on the six western prefectures the moment the duke left on his campaign. The nobles and officials that fell to enemy hands sold him out by informing the enemy about the duke's army's destination. That was why the enemy sent out so many patrols in hopes of locating the duke's men at their rear and wipe them out. With a number of the scouts sent out falling in enemy hands, it probably wouldn't be long before the rest of the troops was discovered.

Upon hearing the report, every one of the officers in the tent cursed the captive nobles and local officials for betraying them. Some panicked and suggested they turn around. The Duke of Sunset River, however, remained calm, and said that since they were already in such a predicament, they might as well give the enemy a struggle. They were in a mountainous area and occupied good terrain. If they retreated to flat land, they would fare even worse and be swarmed by the enemy cavalry.

So, the duke ordered his men to set up defence lines and strongholds for a defensive battle. After about a week, the enemy came with a folk of troops. But when they noticed the complete defences the duke had set up, they didn't launch an immediate attack and instead retreated a few kilometres back and set up camp at an easily defendable location.

That was when the duke's subordinates suggested they took the initiative to mount an attack, which the duke obliged, but the force they sent out was easily repelled by the enemy's immense firepower. Among four of the high-ranking officers the duke sent out, three were dead and one was injured, only managing to return after losing most of his men. That was the wake-up call the rest of them needed to forget the notion of launching further attacks. And so, both sides entered a long stalemate, launching only minor harassment attacks against each other with small numbers of men.

Claude, on the other hand, was quite busy as the region's transport fleet once more came to Port Patkara. It was currently the middle of the 12th month of Year 605. So far, some 870 thousand Shiksans had already settled in as immigrants. However, there were still millions of family members of the homecoming Shiksans working on the renovation of Port Patkara, with another 450 thousand remaining in Saint Cyprean.

Once Typhoon swept through the six western prefectures, Claude estimated that they would get around another million troop family members. Back during the noble rebellion against the Shiksan royal family, most of the troops were recruited from the western prefectures. When the rebellion was quelled, those very same troops were sent to Nubissia to fight the colonial wars, only to be defeated by the region. So, it wasn't surprising most of the homecoming Shiksans were from that region.

According to the schedule, once the six remaining western prefectures were taken over by Typhoon, the homecoming Shiksan troops would be able to seek out their families and bring them to Saint Cyprean for a month's wait. During that time, they would be fed and cared for by the region before they departed for Port Patkara for some short-term work opportunities as they waited for the fleet to return and transport them to their new lives in the region.

If things went without a hitch, the Shiksan invasion would finally come to an end three months later, after which Claude would be able to return to the region. All of Saint Cyprean's supplies and manpower would be transferred to Port Patkara and not a single of the region's troops would stay in what remained of Shiks' territory.

"Lord Militant, we are building three bastions here at the mountain pass. They are estimated to finish construction around half a year later. With them, Manori Plains' safety is assured. According to our strategists' sandtable simulations, each bastion only needs to be defended by a tribe of soldiers. In other words, one combat line is needed to defend the whole mountain pass and not even an enemy corps will be able to break our defences. Not to mention, it's impossible for the enemy to send one whole corps to attack us as the mountain pass can only let a folk of troops through at a time." Siegfeld proudly introduced Claude to their new projects.

"Port Patkara would be safe with those bastions around. Naturally, we're not neglecting Port Patkara's expansion either. The base area will also have three turrets defending it. According to the expansion plans, our docks, base and mountain pass would form a triangular defence layout. Each location only needs to be defended by a line of troops. We'll only need to station a folk of troops at Port Patkara to keep it defended for good."

Claude nodded. He was the one who plotted the defensive layout, so he was well aware. Bleyotte's Avitelli I had hoped that Thundercrash or Typhoon could defend the port to prevent a resurgence of Shiks. Claude, however, didn't really think it a probable threat and believed stationing a whole corps there was a waste of manpower. A folk would long be enough to hold the port until more reinforcements arrived.

"How are the immigrant labourers managed?" he asked.

"We split them into batches and assign them work according to the order they get on board the ships. For example, the fleet just arrived recently and everyone with a registration number starting with three will be the next ones to be sent to the region. Soon, they will be collecting their salaries and buying a bunch of things to bring on board. Though, we already told them there's no need to buy anything here since we have whatever they'll need in the region for much cheaper than here. As such, most of them only bought some food to bring on board.

"After this batch of immigrants is sent off, the next batch to be transferred will be those whose registration numbers start with four. Once the new batch of immigrants come from the capital, we'll assign them registration numbers starting with six and seven. Even though the jobs they're given here is only some four to six months long, the labourers are quite happy about the arrangement as they are given free food and salaries. Quite a number of them even want to swap their registration tags with others so they can stay longer, but we already told them that those who go first will be given better farmland to trick them on board."

Claude burst out laughing. "Thanks for sorting that out, General Siegfeld. In another two or so months, we'll be transferring here from Saint Cyprean and there'll be another million or two troop families that need to be settled. We also have to hasten the construction of the warehouses. There are lots of spoils we have to transfer here from the capital, especially food. Make sure fire prevention is in place and increase security around the area."

"Understood. Near the docs is Saint Peter Hills, which we are using as our food supply base. We use the seven caves there to store refined flour. If all seven of those caves are filled up, we will be able to sustain two million people for a year. Coupled with the three food warehouse areas at the foot of the hills, we wouldn't have to worry about food consumption for the two years to come.

"After the rest of the immigrants arrive, I will develop Blafris Mountains into farmland and pastures for herding. While we don't lack any food for the moment, we do lack fresh vegetables and meat. Even after sending people to buy some from Bleyotte and the native fishing folk near Port Patkara, it still isn't enough to sustain our consumption.

"As we are using most of our manpower in the expansion of the city, we aren't able to produce much food ourselves, so we have to seek out other arrangements. If the lands outside the city can be developed, I believe we'll be able to support a population of 1.5 million people here. We'll need another year before we finish transporting the immigrants to the region anyway, so I believe we have more than enough time."

Claude looked at the Blafris Mountains in the distance and asked, "Are the lands to be developed within the land we leased as well?"

Siegfeld nodded. "While it isn't part of Manori Plains, Avitelli I included it alongside all the same. The dirt of Manori Plains is dark and ideal for farming, whereas the undeveloped lands have reddish earth and much crushed stone. It'll take lots of manpower to make usable farmland out of it.

"But we have an abundance of manpower now, and the crushed stone is an ideal material to build roads with. By the time those are cleared out, we'll start building irrigation routes so we can plant here as well. While the earth can't compare to that of Manori Plains, it's still suitable for planting beans and some types of vegetables and fruits.

"These two to three years will be rather busy. The profits will be lower too. But once the farmland is developed, I believe it'll become a good source of food for Port Patkara and bring us endless good harvests and joy."

Claude cracked a smile. "General Siegfeld, you seem to be quite well informed about farming."

A little embarrassed, Siegfeld said, "My father used to take the whole family to develop farmland together. He converted acres of land into arable farmland to save up enough to send me to war college. I'll never forget the time when I dug stones and tossed them into the basket on my back in my childhood."

Claude gave him a pat on the shoulder. "You have a good father. We'll do what you say. Of all the things we lack, labour isn't one of them, after all. Even after these immigrants are transferred away, we still have captives. I'll keep them here as our farm serfs."

Chapter 576 - Official Notice and Lawsuit

Claude considered the Shiksan invasion to be complete, with only some minor things left to take care of. Eiblont was splitting the ten western prefectures to the three neighbouring nations that had territorial claims there. Typhoon, on the other hand, worked to suppress the insurgents while helping the homecoming Shiksans seek out their families. They also arrested local officials, nobles and rich men to confiscate their wealth.

All things in port Patkara were managed by General Siegfeld, much to Claude's assurance. Currently, Siegfeld was ambitiously using the manpower to develop the land near the city into the main food producer of the region. Claude was happy he didn't have to personally involve himself in matters there.

The only thing he had to deal with could also be handled in part by the department of intelligence, with Borkal having gone to the Duke of Sunset River's camp as a pseudo hostage and contact between the two sides. While there were quite a number of conflicts between the region and the duke's troops in the past three months, with gunshots fired and ammunition wasted, no side suffered significant casualties. The duke, however, kept on spreading his intent on resisting and not going down with a fight against the enemy.

Reddragon had already packed up and was on its way back to the kingdom. While Claude sent out a Thundercrash folk to escort them, it was actually to monitor them and keep them in check. Claude was in fact asked by Bleyotte to seal off the way to Shiks through Mambamark after they sent Reddragon off, something which forced Reddragon to have to leave earlier, much to their dissatisfaction.

As such, a folk was sent to escort them out lest they caused trouble in Bleyotte's borders because of their dissatisfaction. Fortunately, the four prefectures Reddragon conquered were still quite prosperous and it netted them some six hundred carriages' worth of goods and spoils, so they behaved themselves on the way back without harassing the local towns.

The Duke of the Northlands kept his word and only defended his eleven northern prefectures after the people in the name list were returned to him. Apart from taking in refugees from other prefectures, he didn't mobilise his troops at all. The informants' reports came as quite a relief to Claude.

It wasn't that he was afraid of a confrontation with the duke. He only felt that there was no need for any troublesome matters since the war with Shiks was already at its end. Thankfully, the duke was a smart man and didn't want to waste any of his troops on the region. Claude believed that once the region's troops retreated away, the duke would immediately mobilise and reap the most profit he could.

However, that was no longer the region's business. Whether the National Defence Army would be able to sustain the duke's attack would depend on their own abilities. Currently, their leader, Count Mullids Jay Kresit, had distributed Farklin corps into his ranks while recruiting even more to form 1st and 2nd National Defence Corps. In the past half a year, he had amassed enough troops to maintain full control over the ten western prefectures.

Of the ten remaining central prefectures, they were assigned to the split units of the National Preservation Front after Reddragon's retreat, Lupus included, where the standoff between the homecoming Shiksans and the troops of the Duke of Sunset River was taking place. The towns weren't affected by the standoff, so the transfer proceeded without issue. In the future, the development of the split units depended on themselves, now that the region had already given them some basic funding, food, arms and supply support.

All those matters were taken over by the department of intelligence. All Claude had to do was to make general plans and let his subordinates handle the details of execution. Broadly speaking, Claude didn't have much to do after all his delegations, but there were still many documents he had to look through and sign. He was slaving away day in and out in his office amidst a mountain of paperwork.

After sending off another batch of immigrants and spoils, Claude went to Saint Cyprean and received a notice and a personal letter from Blancarte. The notice was from the ministry of the army and they asked for a list of high achievers in the Shiksan invasion so that the kingdom would not disappoint the troops and give them their promotions and rewards quickly.

Claude was well aware of the intentions behind the notice. The Shiksan invasion had completely been organised by Claude and had almost nothing to do with the kingdom. In fact, the kingdom only sent Reddragon to enjoy the spoils after most of the invasion was carried out with great success by the region's troops.

What the kingdom was trying to do was to take credit for the Shiksan invasion after the fact. After all, the region's troops were under technically the jurisdiction of the ministry of the army. It would reflect really badly on the ministry if the region's troops were considered to have started a war without their consent.

Claude really wanted to laugh and say that they deserved it. He had reminded Blancarte that the region would be invading Shiks beforehand, but the idiots at the ministry simply didn't believe him and thought that there was no way the region could succeed based on their sandtable simulations. They were fully ready to watch from the sidelines as the region's troops crashed and burnt, only to be given a slap on the face by the subsequent victories.

So, before the region properly retreated from Shiks, the ministry jumped out of nowhere and wanted to reward the troops that made great contributions to the war effort. Claude believed once he submitted that name list, the ministry would make a big deal out of it by holding a grand celebration as a publicity stunt to emphasise the important role they played in the war.

He decided he would wait until the dust settled first, at least until all the region's troops retreated to Port Patkara before dealing with the matter of contributions. While they had eliminated the northern superpower of Shiks, the troops didn't achieve anything remarkable, as they didn't suffer any huge casualties or endure any tough battles at all.

The only battle worth considering was the extermination of Ironguard Corps and the two standing corps of the Shiksan prince, both of which were rather easy battles. Even the battle of Saint Cyprean didn't have any particularly high points. Instead, the nonstop insurgent attacks were far more troubling than any actual battle.

Even the sweeping of the Shiksan prefectures involved only eliminating the local garrison forces, which couldn't compare to fighting a proper army or besieging a city in terms of merit. For instance, Eiblont leading Typhoon to sweep through six western prefectures didn't earn him enough merit to compare with wiping out a proper standing corps.

Basically, none of the high-ranking officers of the region would qualify for any promotions. The most they would get was have an extra merit in their record. Claude's plans were too detailed and unexpected. After all, nobody would've predicted that Bleyotte would betray Shiks and work with the region and let their troops through to attack Shiks and go straight for their power base without warning.

Once Saint Cyprean fell to the region's hands all of a sudden, Majid III, the Shiksan royal family, the nobles and all the ministers were taken captive. The whole kingdom lost all its leaders at once, rendering the rest barely able to resist the invaders. The local prefectures weren't able to produce any worthy commander either; some even fought amongst themselves before they were wiped out by the region's troops.

Initially, the Duke of the Northlands seemed like a suitable candidate to unite the kingdom, but he didn't have Majid III's favour, so many local officials forget the notion when they thought about how they would reconcile with the king after working with the duke. They were also quite unfortunate that the duke had to recover from an injury during that time and was unable to send his troops to resist the region's invasion, which was among the final straws that cracked the camel's back, depriving the region's troops yet another chance to earn great merit.

As for the eight homecoming Shiksan folks, their goal was to reunite with their families and emigrate to the region. After the war, their units might not exist any longer, so the officers serving in those units would only get administrative acknowledgements instead of proper military merit.

Contrary to all that, the region did get a wealth of spoils from the invasion, but the ministry of the army would have no say in them. The monetary reward the ministry could give the soldiers alongside merits and promotions was merely symbolic and not worth much. Thankfully, the region already prepared their own bonuses for the troops. Even a normal homecoming Shiksan soldier could get ten crowns as a reward.

Shiks did have lots of wealth at their disposal as the northern superpower. Even after losing four colonial wars, their stores were still filled with military gear, food and funding. The royal territory and capital alone saw the region gain no less than 50 million crowns in coinage alone. Coupled with the wealth confiscated from the populace, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the region got 100 million in total spoils.

Claude assigned Skri ten million crowns for the development of Northbay and another 20 million for the council for the immigration costs. Another 30 million went straight into the region's coffers. Another 30 million or so crowns would be used to reward the two corps and eight homecoming Shiksans, which totalled up to 400 thousand men. Each of them stood to gain quite a lot in bonuses.

Additionally, near the antiques, jewels and magic items worth about ten million in total would be split among the region's elites in the council. Claude himself would personally get up to 100 thousand crowns' worth, which could be considered his war bonus. As he often said, there was no more lucrative venture than going to war, though, the prerequisite for that was going to war with a rich nation. A poor nation like Mambamark wouldn't even allow them to recoup their losses.

He tossed the ministry's notice aside and opened the prime minister's letter, only to discover something that troubled him greatly. A scandal that concerned him was spreading in the royal capital.

Blancarte told Claude that his mother had sued him, Angelina and Bloweyk at the noble court for unfilial behaviour as they didn't want to acknowledge the debt incurred by House Ferd in purchasing their fief and upgrading their hereditary Title, thereby not fulfilling their responsibility as a member of the household and not paying back their debt of upbringing.

The noble court immediately threw out the case, believing it to be unreasonable. While Claude, Angelina and Bloweyk were Madam Ferd's children, they didn't inherit House Sen Ferd's sobriquet or property, so they couldn't be held accountable for their debt. If the court accepted Madam Ferd's argument, it was sure to cause a huge commotion as non-heirs of the household would be slathered with the household's debt.

However, their mother didn't let up and submitted a second case soon enough, demanding the noble court to acknowledge House Sen Ferd as the main household and House Han Ferd as the branch, thereby obliging House Han Ferd to help House Sen Ferd out in their time of need and settling the debt for them.

Even so, the noble court threw out the case once more, as House Han Ferd had been formed before House Sen Ferd. Chronologically speaking, House Han Ferd would be considered the main household. But the lawyer Madam Ferd hired argued that the Title of House Sen Ferd had been posthumously granted on Claude's father, and there had been no precedent of the child's household being the main one while the father's household was the branch one. Currently, the case was still being fought in the noble court.

It was said that the king deeply regretted posthumously creating Morssen a noble. He didn't think Claude's mother would be such a shameless woman as to be willing to cause such a huge commotion and making a joke out of Claude among the noble circle. According to Blancarte's investigation, Madam Ferd sued her three children because she wanted to keep her fief but had no other option at her disposal.

This mainly stemmed from the debt of a million crowns she owed the royal family that had a yearly interest of five percent, which amounted to 50 thousand crowns. Yet, her and Arbeit's fief only had a town and two villages and yielded less than ten thousand crowns annually.

The queen graciously offered them three years without interest so that the fief could be developed, but one year had passed and nothing much changed. No matter how badly they scoured their subjects, they only came up with an extra 180 crowns, and that only worsened the situation by spurring the subjects to flee the fief.

If that went on, Madam Ferd and Arbeit's Title and fief would be rescinded if they weren't able to start paying interest once the three-year period ran out.

So, she turned her sights on Claude and his siblings. Back when she sent Arbeit to him, she only got 10 thousand crowns out of it, far from what she expected. Much cursing and complaining later, she heard about that idea from somewhere and decided to sue them for not bearing the household debt.

Blancarte advised Claude to rein his mother in and not let the matter grow any bigger, lest it spread throughout the rest of Freia and tanked Claude's reputation. As for how, what else could Claude do apart from pay up?

Claude merely smirked coldly. He's had enough. Since his mother wanted to sue, he would see her in court. The more commotion it caused, the better. He would let everyone know that even a Lord Militant like him could have that kind of mother. If anyone was going to lose face, they would do it all together. In fact, he wanted to see who would dare to mock him to his face about it.

Chapter 577 - Awkward Court Case

Claude decided to see his mother in court, believing that she had willingly chosen to cut him and his younger siblings off for good the moment she decided to actually sue them. The noble court of the kingdom was responsible for mediating between disputes of nobles, chief among which being quarrels concerning inheritance. However, there was no precedent of a mother suing her own children for not wanting to bear the debt she incurred despite being in a different household.

Most of the cases the noble court handled dealt with exiled noble descendants who came back with claims of inheritance. But Claude's mother's case was a whole other headache without any precedent whatsoever. Not to mention, the case had been thrown out twice beforehand, only for it to be submitted again.

Initially, Madam Ferd was in the same household as her three children, but with the king's interference in posthumously making Claude's dead father a viscount, another branch Ferd household had been created. Yet, while something didn't quite make sense for Claude's branch to bear the debt of his mother's branch, those arguments were hard to formulate.

During the third case submission, Claude's mother emphasised the debt of upbringing her three children owed her and demanded them to acknowledge it and take the initiative to contribute to the household fief by inheriting the debt. As for why they ought to do so, it was argued that it was because they were rich but the household itself was poor.

It was akin to robbing the rich to aid the poor. Their mother wanted to force them to bear debt that didn't belong to them. The judges of the noble court had many discussions about it and all believed the case should be thrown out and never entertained again, as that would create a precedent and a loophole in the kingdom's laws for future cases of the heirs of the household to pass on debt to their siblings' branch families.

However, the judges were actually encouraged to take the case. It appeared that quite a number of elites in the kingdom were displeased with Count Claude's despicable attitude towards the kingdom and wanted to humiliate him through the case. In fact, his mother had been goaded by them into taking the matter to court in the first place.

It was an action to save the elites' faces. Claude, as Lord Militant, had often foiled the royal court's plans despite being the commander-in-chief of the autonomous region. The military administration of the region even dared to completely ignore the ministries of the army and navy to go to war on their own, almost behaving like their own independent nation sometimes. While the royal court could take no strategic action against Claude's position, they could target his personal affairs to erode his influence in the region.

So, Claude quickly received the noble court's summons to be there within three months for the trial. The reason the time frame was so long was because Angelina and Bloweyk were also defendants. The court also had to issue a formal summons and afford them a reasonable timeframe to return.

The news spread rather quickly. Most council members of the region, Skri included, had heard about it and wrote to Claude in concern as well as to offer him advice. Bernard intentionally went to Saint Cyprean to meet Claude, having come from a legal background and being among the most familiar with the kingdom's laws. His suggestion was for Claude to not contest the case and pay the fine to settle the case.

Bernard told Claude that it wasn't a simple case, as the whole premise the case was resting on went against the spirit of the kingdom's laws to begin with. Yet, not only did the noble court not throw the case out, they even decided to hold a trial. If Claude decided to see the court case through, he would be held up at the royal capital endlessly. The nobles could have each trial a month apart, and Claude would have to attend all of them. The longer it dragged out, the greater the slight to his reputation would be, not to mention all the lost time.

"What about having a representative at the trial?" Claude asked, not wanting to go to the royal capital if he could.

"There's only one situation in which a representative can be sent, and that is the announcement of the verdict," Bernard said with a stern look. The protocol of the noble court necessitated that both the defendant and plaintiff show up during the trial for it to count, so the two of them would have to be present in court. For Claude, his presence was equal to humiliation.

Claude also couldn't ignore the case outright. Even if it was just a tantrum his mother was throwing, he had to go to trial and argue against her claim that he is unfilial. If he wasn't willing to show up, his mother would win the case by default, and not only would Claude have to bear that accusation, he would have to settle the debt and accept whatever punishment the noble court had for him. It would definitely negatively affect his reputation.

"Perhaps many are counting on the fact you won't show up for trial so they can slander you without fear of consequence. Even if you stay in the region the whole time, they'll continue fashioning lies about you in the capital. If you don't show up for the trial, your reputation as an unfilial son will be set in stone. Those who don't know better will think that you and your siblings are in the wrong."

Bernard also didn't encourage actually fighting the case out with his mother, as it was most probably a setup for Claude to keep him held up in the royal capital and be unable to deal with the developments of the region. If the course dragged on for two years, it meant he wouldn't be able to leave the royal capital and take care of urgent matters in the region.

"So, I suggest that you make a no contest plea and immediately send a representative to hear the verdict and immediately accept the punishment and fines. The advantage would be cutting off all relations with the plaintiff so that they can't affect you any longer. Your mother and elder brother's household will henceforth have nothing to do with you, as your mother suing you is akin to cutting off your relationship of mother and son. The payment she will be getting will be reimbursement for the 'upbringing' she offered and she would no longer be able to hold that against you."

Bernard's argument made sense. In normal inheritance cases in noble families, once the verdict was declared, the noble court would cut off familial ties between the plaintiff and defendant to uphold the integrity of the verdict so that no subsequent claims could be made. That way, he would no longer be held back by his mother and elder brother.

Claude's head hurt and his heart wearied. He thought about the suggestion for a few days and wrote to Angelina and Bloweyk to explain the court proceedings, and told them how he intended to deal with them. He had one ironclad destroyer deliver his letters to the region.

Fortunately, no pressing developments manifested in Shiks during the legal trouble. Things were going according to his plan. Even after the ten western prefectures were swallowed up by neighbouring nations, the Duke of the Northlands didn't budge. Claude retreated his troops from Saint Cyprean according to plan and the Duke of Sunset River's men reclaimed the lost Shiksan capital as they cheered their successful driving out of the invaders.

By the time they reached Port Patkara, it was near the end of the 1st month. The replies to Claude's letters had been delivered, alongside official letters appointing him to be their representative. Angelina didn't think it heartbreaking at all to cut ties with their foolish mother. In fact, she hated her for actually suing them for such ridiculous reasons. She expressed complete solidarity with Claude and supported forming a completely distinct House Han Ferd that had no ties to House Sen Ferd at all.

Bloweyk's reply was simple. He said that the mother he loved was forever dead. He had reregistered and adopted the Han Ferd name once more and refused to acknowledge he had anything to do with House Sen Ferd. Apart from the replies, the letters of appointment allowed Claude to represent them in the trial. Whatever the verdict would be, they would share the consequences.

Claude also wrote a letter of appointment and handed all three to Bernard. He would be the one to represent the three siblings in court and end it with the first hearing. While they would lose the case and a huge sum of money, they would be free of their fool of a mother and scheming elder brother, which might come as a huge relief.

On the 25th of the 2nd month, the noble court started the trial of Madam Ferd's case. The court was filled with nobles there to precede over the hearings. None of them expected that Bernard would represent all three of the Ferd siblings make a no-contest plea on their behalf and shoulder the debt.

However, Bernard also argued that Arbeit was also one of Madam Ferd's children, and thus would be liable for the debt of upbringing to her as well. As such, the debt House Sen Ferd owed would be borne by all four siblings equally, which was a reasonable request. Not a single judge expressed any objection to the argument. Even Madam Ferd had no arguments against it. So, the court decided that Claude, Angelina and Bloweyk had to pay a total of 750 thousand crowns for the debt.

Bernard then suggested that since the queen was the debtor, the payment would be made to her directly instead of through Madam Ferd's hands, as it wouldn't be safe to hand her such a huge sum of money. As such, the queen's representative was asked to split the debt to them directly in the trial itself. After that, Bernard directly handed over 75 pieces of bills issued by the overseas bank each representing ten thousand crowns in value. The queen's representative collected them and gave them a signed receipt.

Lastly, Bernard demanded that House Sen Ferd and House Han Ferd be properly severed from one another, a request which Madam Ferd fully opposed. She believed that her connections with the three siblings should be maintained as a bond of blood wasn't something the court could sever.

But the judges believed that since the three siblings had paid back their share of the debt, they had fulfilled their obligation as her children. In fact, Madam Ferd suing the three to court already made their familial bond null and void. From that day onwards, House Sen Ferd would no longer be able to leech off House Han Ferd. The court formally cut off familial ties between them.

Nobody expected the case to come to such a swift end. Even those that plotted the scheme didn't think Claude and his siblings would not contest the case at all and pay the debt immediately. In essence, Claude's mother could no longer be used to trouble him any longer.

It happened so abruptly that even the elites that orchestrated the case didn't know how to react. They were under the impression that Claude and his siblings would flip out against their mother over that million-crown debt and fight the case for at least a few years. Even a few thousand crowns was enough to turn father against son, wife against husband, let alone a million.

That aside, due to precedent being set, the nobles who intended to exploit that loophole didn't let go of the chance. In the coming months, lawsuits by one sibling against another or their parents, by a branch house against themain house, came nonstop. All of them wanted their relatives to bear debt and wanted to use Claude's case as precedent to argue their own.

The noble court was put in a really awkward position. Allowing an unreasonable case to go to trial was a mistake. With the precedent set in stone, there was no refusing subsequent cases. The following cases, however, didn't end as quickly as Claude's did. Some of the plaintiffs were willing to fight the case for two to three years for the sake of a few hundred crowns, and didn't care about publicising the matter either. All newspapers and tabloids were filled with complaints about unfair verdicts from such cases.

When they began to look deeper into it, they realised that Claude's case was truly unreasonable. Yet, there wasn't much they could do to overturn it. After all, Claude and his siblings paid 750 thousand crowns according to the verdict, and nobody was willing to reimburse them for it. Yet, refusing that case as precedent would call into question the kingdom's justice system. No judge could afford to be held accountable for such an action.

Arbeit ended up the worst off among the Ferd siblings. Even after having 750 thousand crowns paid off, House Sen Ferd still had a debt of 250 thousand crowns with a yearly interest of 12500 crowns. Yet, his viscounty didn't even yield ten thousand crowns per year. They would still be unable to pay the interest after a three-year period and still faced the risk of losing the Title and fief.

And with the court ruling that severed ties between House Han Ferd and House Sen Ferd, Arbeit and Madam Ferd could no longer depend on Claude's protection and aid. While the court case was spurred by some other party behind the scenes, Madam Ferd and Arbeit did also have the intent of taking advantage of Claude and the other siblings. However, the verdict was a huge disappointment. Even after winning the case, they didn't get a single crown and still owed a quarter of the debt.

For the sake of the trial, Madam Ferd and Arbeit had to travel to the royal capital from their fief and live in the mansion the king gave House Sen Ferd. Using the ten thousand crowns Claude gave them, they sought out all sorts of legal counsel and bribed the right people to get the case to trial. In the end, they won, though it didn't do much to solve their predicament. Instead, they spent most of the money they were given.

As such, when Bernard visited and demanded the mother and son for the money House Han Ferd paid to maintain the mansion in Whitestag and the staff salaries on their behalf, the two of them refused to pay the few-hundred-crown sum. In the end, they settled by selling the mansion to Bernard for some two thousand crowns.

The case came to a close just as the Shiksan invasion ended. What followed was the transport of immigrants from Port Patkara to the region. Claude submitted the list of soldiers with merit to the ministry of the army and soon received an invitation to participate in the award ceremony, during which Claude would be promoted by the king to a hereditary marquis.

Claude tossed the notice into the trash and had Fachselin write the ministry of the army a letter excusing him of participating in the ceremony, citing a bad cold as the reason. Once news of that broke out, Thundercrash and Typhoon's officers did the same and all refused to go to the award ceremony.

Chapter 578 - Meanwhile, on the Western Coast

'You really humiliated our king good this time around,' was the first thing Bernard said when he saw Claude in Northbay's capital of Canpast.

As not a single officer of the region to attend the award ceremony Fredrey I held in the royal capital, some troops from Reddragon and the local garrisons that participated in the Shiksan invasion were called to fill the numbers. Bernard, however, was present during the event and said that the king's expression was dark and stiff the whole time.

Claude had already returned to Northbay by then. Skri had prepared a new Ferd Manor in Canpast for him facing the sea, so Claude stayed there with the excuse of having to recover from an illness. Bernard, on the other hand, had finished his obligations in the capital and took the chance to visit Claude and bring him some gifts.

The verdict of the noble court, receipt of the debt payment and proof of severance of ties were handed over. Claude was now the official head of the Han Ferd household. What Claude didn't expect was Bernard would also buy the mansion in Whitestag and gift it to him. It was his ancestral home, and Claude now owed Bernard a huge favour.

What was more surprising was the fact that his mother was willing to sell that mansion. It seemed that she and Arbeit really didn't plan on returning to Whitestag for good. On one hand, they kept on mouthing off about how great Morssen's achievements were, yet they were willing to give up on the home and his grave in Whitestag. The human mind was so hard to grasp that Claude had long given up upon it.

After staying in Northbay for half a month or so, Blancarte came to visit again, this time with some official matters to deal with. While Claude and his subordinates had refused to participate in the king's ceremony, the awards and Titles still had to be given. It seemed that Fredrey I had begrudgingly accepted Claude's list of people to be promoted and also made him a hereditary marquis.

This time around, only three from the region were promoted to general officers. The first was Borkal, who was nominated by Claude due to the strategic role he played in the Shiksan invasion. Promoted to major-general alongside him were two colonels of Typhoon.

In contrast to military rank promotions, Fredrey I was far more generous when it came to awarding noble Titles. There were eleven high-ranking officers in the region made honorary barons. It seemed that the king was planning to earn another sum from them in the form of elevation and land-picking fees. Among the ones who already had noble Titles apart from Claude, only Eiblont, Berklin and Dyavid were further promoted to hereditary viscounts. While their fiefs were expanded, they still had to pay picking fees.

For instance, Claude's promotion from count to marquis essentially doubled his territory. However, Claude didn't attend the ceremony with sickness as his excuse, thus creating a really embarrassing predicament for the king. As such, his additional fief was set to be in the Nasrian region, some 300 kilometres away from Northbay. If Claude wanted to unite his fiefs, he would have to pay the fee at the royal capital.

However, the region profited greatly from the war and didn't mind letting the king enjoy some of the benefits. The one in charge of all those matters was Bernard, who would bring an escort force with up to six million crowns to the royal capital to settle the matter. Soon, news came from the royal capital that the region's fiefdoms in the Canasian region were once more greatly expanded. Skri would finally have more work on his plate.

When the region's transport fleet once more came to transport immigrants, Claude returned alongside them. The main priority of the region in the coming days would be on the western coast. Operation Wildfire was progressing slowly as the various nations on the western coast began putting up their guard.

Birkin's report stated that while the pamigar and losman's forces wiped out Moloshik, Lesnia and Wasilisk's forces with the help of the voluntary corps, they were once more under threat of being invaded by the other western colonies. Currently, the pamigar republic and the newly formed losman tribal union required help from the region in all aspects, making them quite huge financial burdens on the region.

In the 4th month of Year 606, Claude finally returned to Lanu. However, he went straight to military headquarters instead of Sheila's manor for a meeting to be briefed on Operation Wildfire's current state and the aid problems of the pamigar republic and losman tribal union.

Birkin opined that Operation Wildfire had to massively change to adapt to the huge developments on the western coast. The main problem was that the pamigar republic had been in a constant state of war in the three years since its formation and suffered huge casualties, the degree of which terrified the other natives in the western colonies. Many of those who call for violent revolt toned their rhetoric down to observe the two new native nations' efforts.

Back then, Borkal had planned for Operation Wildfire to kick off a wave of native independence movements on the western coast to make the eight Southern Freian nations lose their hold on their colonies on the western coast. The region's military aid to the natives would make sure of that, and, eventually, the colonial nations would be driven off the western coast and allow the native nations to be formed.

However, the pamigar and losman revolts caused the other nations to grow cautious and transfer troops from their mainlands to their colonies. Border security was also tightened, making it really hard for the region's informants to establish contact with the local natives. Naturally, transporting weapons to the native forces was also impossible.

Quite a number of colonies already had plans to suppress native revolts. Next came the two attempts of Moloshik, Lesnia and Wasilisk to retake their colonies. While the region's help allowed the losman and pamigar to win in the end, the three-year-long conflict saw up to a million native youths either dead or injured, terrifying the other natives as a result. They weren't willing to pay such a huge price for the sake of independence.

The only piece of good news was that Moloshik, Lesnia and Wasilisk's two expeditions made the other nations hesitate. Even those that had two to three corps of forces ready in the colonies, none of them dared to invade the native nations in fear of failing like the three nations' troops. Not to mention, they were taunting and prodding each other from time to time and surprisingly created a delicate balance of power.

Molshik and Wasilisk had completely left the western coast due to their two failed attempts. Only Lesnia still had a colony remaining there. However, the problem they were faced with now wasn't the native revolt. Instead, the huge loss of forces through the two failed expeditions caused Lesnia to lose much of its ability to defend its one remaining colony. The neighbouring colonies were constantly staring greedily at their territory.

Perhaps the colonies neighbouring Lesnia, Carmenleon's and Reliaro's, believed that attacking Lesnia's colony and taking it would result in far fewer casualties than attacking the native nations. Lesnia was already a weakened mutt and could easily be taken out with a final blow.

As such, conflict often broke out at the borders of those three colonies. Even with Lesnia endured the provocations and continued to call for a united front against the threat of further native revolts, Carmenleon and Reliaro continued to push the envelope. They were only waiting for a justifiable excuse with which to attack Lesnia's colony.

Due to the close relations between Carmenleon and Reliaro's colonies, the other nations of Opsaro, Fochs and Fedro gave up on the notion of attacking the pamigar republic and losman union by themselves and decided to watch the situation unfold.

Fochs had the most colonies on the western coast. Even after losing Cape Loducus to the region, they still had three colonies of different sizes. As they were not connected together and Fochs had a strong navy but no strong army, each of those colonies were defended by a corps of stationed troops to prevent a native revolt.

Fochs was the most nervous about the current state of the western coast, fearing that Carmenleon and Reliaro would attack the last remaining Lesnian colony and drag them into the storm. Given how weak the three forces stationed in each of their colonies were, they wouldn't be a match for the neighbouring colonies' forces.

Fortunately, Fochs had an exceptional navy, which should be enough to stop them from worrying about a civilian revolt. The natives of those colonies that call themselves the lanstobuk had been heavily influenced by the Fochsians in the past century and developed a cultural identity around marine warriorhood. They were expert fishers and divers, making them the prime candidates for marines in Fochs' four fleets. The nation also treated the natives relatively well.

The voyage from Freia to Nubissia was a long one, and the space in between was where Fochs' fleets flourished. They had that fact to thank for their colonies not having been invaded even once in the past century, because even if their lands were taken, Fochs could simply cut off the other nations' maritime routes to Freia to even the odds. Any nation that occupied Fochsian colonies would have to return them to regain access to their own.

But with Ironclad's appearance, Fochs' maritime superiority began to wane. Even with their four fleets, they were put into the same category as the other nations. Ever since the other nations began to invest heavily in the development of ironclad warships, Fochs' greatest weakness began to show. Being a nation spread across various islands, they didn't have access to mineral resources and thus did not have good metallurgical techniques.

Unlike the other Freian nations, Fochs suffered a huge disadvantage when it came to metalworking, a fact which was apparent from their army's outdated. That was the main reason the Fochsian officials in Cape Loducus City were so happy to purchase large numbers of Shiksan weapons back then.

Two years back, Fochs had sent an ambassador to the region in hopes of being able to buy an ironclad warship for their own research, but Moriad, the admiral, simply told them that even if they bought one, they wouldn't be able to replicate it, as their nation didn't have the necessary techniques and equipment to do so. They wouldn't even be able to forge the simplest hot-air or steam-powered engines.

In the past two years, the other nations made decent progress in ironclad-warship research. Two nations already came up with copper-armoured warships powered by steam engines. While they were far inferior to the region's ships, they were still vastly superior to traditional sail warships.

Fochs was all too painfully aware that the day another coastal nation managed to build their own ironclad warships was the day they would completely lose supremacy at sea. If it couldn't remain a formidable naval power, it would no longer keep its three colonies on the western coast.

Faced with horribly insufficient mineral resources and metalworking techniques, Fochs decided to invest in one of their colonies, Wades Mountains. It was a colony that spanned many mountainous areas rich with mines that could be developed into a large-scale mining and industrial territory. Fochs decided to hire all the technicians they could across the continent to develop that colony into their own naval base and shipyard to produce ironclad warships.

Fochs greatly feared an attack on their colonies at this time that would disrupt their development plans, so they were trying their best to mediate between the various nations to form an alliance to counter the independent native nations. At the same time, it would expand the current scope of its navy to pressure the other nations. Any colonial nation that went to war with another would face a naval lockdown by Fochs.

In his statement during the meeting, Birkin said that the best solution is to cause the colonial nations to fight amongst themselves and wear their own forces thin. Once they were weakened, the region could take advantage of the situation. That way, they could fulfil Operation Wildfire's objectives without much effort and liberate the natives.

Currently, the greatest detractor to their plans was Fochs. With their naval power and presence, the western colonies wouldn't go to war with one another, so ideally, they should be wiped out. Without the threat of the four fleets, war would break out among the western colonies. The Fochsian colonies would also be wrapped up in the chaos.

The problem was the region didn't have a good excuse to wipe out the Fochsian fleets. The region prided themselves on being reasonable, after all, so just cause was always necessary before any escalation. While they could still hide matters by using the voluntary corps in the war on the western coast, there was no blindsiding anyone at sea, as there was no way Ironclad could be branded a voluntary navy.

"Have you considered using pirates to take out the Fochsian fleets?" Borkal suggested.

Chapter 579 - Potential for Sheila to Advance

After a long day of meetings, Claude returned to Covenbrun Manor completely worn out deep in the night. Sheila, knowing that he was back, didn't go to sleep and was waiting in the main hall. The moment she saw Claude leave the carriage, she came up to him for a hug and kiss. Sheila didn't tag along when he went to war in Shiks and they hadn't met for a year and a half. Their reunion after such a long time made her rather excited.

"My dear, you seem a little too happy to see me," Claude said with wonder at her excessive welcome.

Once Claude took a warm bath and started munching down the delicious meal she prepared for him, she began her explanation. "Claude, in the tome you had someone send me from Shiks, I found some information about magus advancement."

It finally clicked in Claude's head. She wanted to share her amazing discovery, but Claude was the only person she could tell. They were in an age of waning magic. The magic civilization was nothing more than a fairy-tale-like whisper of times long past. Even though magic could still be learned, both talented and average magi wouldn't be able to cross the ceiling of the fifth ring.

Claude's first dream since he transmigrated into this world was to become a magus and live freely, yet fate saw to it that he took a completely different path to his childhood dream. Even after reuniting with Sheila and training to the fifth ring with her guidance, he had gotten used to military life. Magic was already something he could do without. It wasn't that he got many chances to use it in his daily life anyway.

Among the magi he knew, his sister had her hands full taking care of her own son and Bloweyk's twins. She used her free time to research more into herbalism. Liboyd and Sonia were both rune magi, but magic was merely a means in their research, not the ends. Liboyd focused most of his attention on developing engines whereas Sonia busied herself in weapons research.

While Bloweyk's talent for the mystical arts was inferior to Claude's, he actually made it to the fifth ring faster than him. Yet, he didn't fit into the traditional magi categories. Perhaps, he could be considered to be a modern battlemagus, seeing as he used many different spells and tricks to aid in combat. As for Claude, there weren't many avenues to apply his magic in his high status and position. He also hadn't conducted any magic experiments for a long time. Whether he knew magic or not now no longer mattered much to him.

Sheila was the only pure magus he knew who pursued nothing but advancement in her magic. She had always wanted to break the chains that bound her to the fifth ring and become an archmagus. Back then, her mother had abandoned her to go to explore some magical ruins with other magi for the very same reason, only to run into trouble. When Sheila grew up, she ventured to those ruins and found her mother's remains. There wasn't anything she needed in the ruins either.

While she reunited with Claude after much hardship, Claude knew what she truly desired. Fortunately, while he wasn't able to give her any direct help, he managed to bring her such a surprise through his conquests and struggles.

For instance, through exterminating Nasri and conquering Saint Cyprean, he managed to procure all magical records and tomes from the two royal families' collections.

Claude's conquests and spoils were a great help in expanding Sheila's knowledge of magic and broadening her horizons. Many of those precious tomes were vestiges of the magic civilization and each one of them would make any magus go mad with desire. It was too bad they had been locked up in the royal families' vaults, never to see the light of day and end up in the hands of magi that truly needed them.

Sheila had discovered some information on ring advancement in one of the Shiksan tomes. Back during the beginning of the magic civilization's fall, many magi knew how to make the breakthrough, but lacked the means of gathering the large amounts of magical resources to do so.

Back then, most of the magic materials, magic crystals in particular, was monopolised by the magi nobles. Average magi had virtually no access to them. So, any newly discovered resource would be heavily fought over. A bloodbath would result to weed out the rest for the last victor standing.

Sheila was shocked to see the depictions of slaughter when it came to magic resources, but she was more concerned with the knowledge and procedures of breaking through, as well as what magical resources were necessary for it. Much to her delight, while the passing of a millennium made it so that much of the magical resources were called a different name by most of the populace, the tome still contained detailed methods of testing those materials.

Just as Claude was about finished with his food and nodding to whatever she said, she took out a dozen lists of magic materials she would need. The lists, linked together, would be at least two metres in length.

He turned to the smiling Sheila with shock. Was there a need to be so happy? Even if they were able to determine what materials they needed, would they be able to collect them? Many of those things had vanished in time. If the magi back then couldn't get it, what made her so confident they could in the present day?

Sheila immediately countered and said that back during the magic civilization, countless magi were fighting for a really limited pool of resources. Many of them didn't even manage to get enough to break through at death's door.

For instance, if the supplies back then could help a hundred magi break through and there were ten thousand magi competing for them and stashing them in their lairs, nobody would be able to make the breakthrough and use them up. The supplies were sure to be hidden away by the magi. After all, if they couldn't break through, they weren't about to help others do so either.

However, the appearance of firearms six centuries prior caused countless amounts of magic knowledge to vanish from the mainstream consciousness. The mundane folk of Freia chased the lofty magi that treated them like ants off the continent. Ironically, the magi leaving the continent didn't give them the peaceful life they desired, instead ushering in the dark ages that lasted three centuries.

Countless warlords and nobles fought nonstop with firearms to exact vengeance, gain territory, expand influence and plunder riches at the expense of the youths in their fiefs. The bloody wars that lasted three centuries culled the Freian population by two-thirds at least before finally stabilising and settling down into the nations today.

In the past six centuries, magic came to be a taboo on Freia and no magi dared to appear in public ever again. Even the magi with ties to the royal families made sure to keep a low profile. The public saw the magi as evil anyway. For instance, only a limited number of people in Aueras could use harmless spells. Most of the populace saw the registered magi as magicians that performed nothing more than party tricks.

The end of an era made it so that Freia was no longer dominated by magic. While magical supplies were highly sought after and fought over a millennium ago, almost nobody cared for them in the modern-day. Even with the existence of rogue magi in Freia, most of them only chose to live out their lives in seclusion or apathy.

Many who inherited the magi's legacy didn't even know how to advance beyond the ceiling. Some lacked practical spells, some lacked the resources necessary for a breakthrough, but most didn't have the knowledge required thanks to the monopolistic magi nobles of days past. What used to be common knowledge during the magic civilization was the knowledge that one had to risk one's life for in the modern-day.

Sheila solemnly told Claude that breaking through to become an archmagus wasn't just a pipe dream as she realised many materials in the list were easy to procure. For instance, much of the spoils from the Shiksan invasion were magical materials that could be used for a breakthrough. Not to mention, they had been refined beforehand and spared them much trouble.

Additionally, the ones that handled the spoils didn't understand how precious the magical materials were and sent them back to the region alongside most other spoils. Sheila had inspected the spoils in the warehouses before only to be shocked to find that the evaluators labelled them as mere experiment materials and metals.

So, Sheila spent 500 thousand crowns using the account Claude gave her to buy all the magical resources she could find, citing that Angelina and Sonia needed those materials for herbalism and research to reinforce cannons with better alloys. The inventory managers of the region believed the deal to be a great win. Not only would they be able to gain Claude's favour, they would clear out a few of their warehouses instantly and net the region's accounts an extra 500 thousand crowns.

Claude only just found out that he now owed the overseas bank a debt of 500 thousand crowns. But since the purchase was made, he was willing to overlook it, especially when Sheila was the one spending it. He wasn't mad in the slightest. Even though he didn't have much extra income, his shares and all other kinds of benefits he enjoyed would earn him that amount back in two to three years.

"My dear, will buying the resources worth 500 thousand crowns be enough for you to make the breakthrough?"

She shook her head crestfallenly. "It's not. The resources should only be half of what I need. Also, you're mistaken. The resources aren't just worth 500 thousand crowns. If they're sold in the magic black market, they'll be in high demand even if we offer to sell them off for five million crowns.

"You might not know this, but these resources are highly sought after. For instance, mythril and earth crystals are mineral ores that are almost completely used up. They can only be found in mining nations like Shiks. Normally, one wouldn't even be able to buy them even if one could afford them. It's not something that can be casually found through mining either.

"Mainly, I only managed to benefit from the deal because your warehouse managers don't really know the true value of these goods and labelled them as normal research materials. Do you know what they labelled mythril as? They called them a bronze alloy with great hardness. As for earth crystals, they labelled them as yellow-coloured crystals. I bought them for the price of potatoes."

Claude felt his heart shudder. He didn't blame the managers for not recognising the worth of the goods, as they weren't magi. Sheila really did luck out by getting those materials for only 500 thousand crowns.

The problem was that was only half the necessary amount she needed for a breakthrough. In other words, if she were to get the other half through normal means, Claude would have to pay five million crowns. Those goods were also not readily available even if one could afford it. Much effort was needed to track them down.

Even if Claude had lots of assets and earned roughly 200 thousand crowns annually, he couldn't actually afford to take out five million crowns. That kind of money was about the total income of the kingdom during the reign of Stellin X. Last year, the mainland only got less than 1.2 million crowns from taxes.

Claude wasn't Fredrey I who could use the fief scheme to rake in lots of money, tens of millions from nobles alone. The thought of getting fine million crowns made him panic somewhat. He finally understood why the magi of yore had to use violence to get the materials they couldn't afford to buy.

However, the region just wrapped up the invasion of Shiks. What other target was there for them to plunder? Though he wanted to talk her out of making the breakthrough, he couldn't bear to do so at the sight of her hopeful look. After a couple moments, he finally interrupted her long tirade. "Then, my dear, how much more funds do you need to buy the materials you will need?"

"Ummm..." She was a little taken aback. Seeing his torn expression, she finally understood what he was concerned about. Beaming with smiles, she said, "Claude, were you using attention to what I was saying?"

He nodded with a pained look as he thought, how could I when I'm frantically thinking about how not to be financially ruined by you?!

"Didn't you hear me? I said the materials I bought are the precious ones enough for the three of us to break through. The lists here contain the other half we need, but only the amount is huge. They're not actually that expensive. Most of them are commonly available, like whiteroot powder and herbalism materials.

"The thing we'll actually have trouble with is finding a good location to meet the breakthrough. We need a suitable magic tower. I'm going to renovate the internal of the viewing tower in our manor into a magic tower and I'll need some time and effort to inscribe the runic formations. So, in the next three years, I'll be needing your household's low-rank magi to help. We'll need lots of magic materials for the renovation.

"Don't forget that we're here in Nubissia, where quite a lot of materials that would be considered rare in Freia are produced. According to my estimations, we'd only need a little more materials after we get what we can here. When the tower renovation is complete three years later, I'll bring the household magi to the northern highlands and western wilderness on Freia for a trip. The tome states that the rest of what we need can be found there."

He breathed a sigh of relief. What she meant by having collected half is the amount, not the price. His generosity finally found its way back to him. "Well then, give me a list of ingredients you can find in the north and west of Freia. I'll have someone look into it. I don't feel safe letting you go to untamed lands as those."

That night, Sheila was surprisingly assertive in sharing her affection. Claude was as pleasured as he was worn out.

Chapter 580 - Borkal and Eriksson

Claude woke up in a horrible mood. He only managed to get sleep by the time dawn broke thanks to all that tussling in the sheets with Sheila. He had to attend a whole day's worth of strategy meetings before he arrived, only to later be told by her about the possibility of making a breakthrough before she started to sap him dry right as he was about to relax. After doing his best to sate her pent-up desires, he felt emptied out to the point that he could barely lift his finger.

If possible, Claude would have wanted to lie in bed for two whole days to get some of his vitality back. He had three days of break and didn't have to go to headquarters, after all. But before he managed to get five hours of sleep, Borkal came in uninvited. Sheila knew about the two's relationship and didn't stop him, letting him yank Claude out of bed directly.

Claude looked at him with the gaze of a killer. If he could, he really wanted to cut that lump of fat into eight pieces. There was nothing more infuriating than being awoken in the middle of his sleep. However, the fatty didn't seem to notice his mistake and even went to help himself to some wine.

Forcing his anger down, Claude washed his face and freshened up. "What's the big deal coming to wake me this early in the morning?"

Borkal didn't seem to take note of the hint of suppressed anger in his voice at all. He was even used to getting his way in camp thanks to being Claude's long-time friend, to say no more when they were now in a private setting. He finally found a bottle of wine that caught his eye and popped it open in a practiced manner. Pouring himself a glass and taking a sip, he said, "Claude, did I hear wrong? It's already ten in the morning. How's that early? We'll be having lunch in an hour or so."

Claude rubbed his temples to keep himself awake. "I'm not like you. I don't get to sleep the moment I get home. There are many other things I have to deal with. I slept real late last night and it was almost dawn by the time I got into bed. If you don't give me a good reason for disrupting my pleasant sleep, I won't mind using you as a sandbag for training."

Borkal's face paled as he looked at Claude's haggard face, only to notice his mistake. Claude didn't seem to be joking. Immediately, he stiffened. "Chief, at least you got some sleep. I didn't get a wink last night. I really don't understand why my proposal last night got so many objections.

"The way I see it, using pirates to suppress Fochs' fleets is a great deal for us. All we need is to pay out some cash. Given all the spoils we got, paying pirates to do the job is a worthwhile deal."

Claude sighed deeply. During the meeting yesterday, Borkal had suggested paying pirates off to harass the Fochsian navy, only for many other officers to voice their objections. That came as quite a blow to Borkal, who was now a major-general, and he fussed over the matter the whole night before coming to Claude first thing in the morning to discuss it.

"How should I explain this... my general..." Claude put his hands up in the air helplessly. "Boa, you have the sharp acuity of a merchant and can see the bigger picture of Operation Wildfire. That is your strength. But you're no traditional military man and you don't understand how stubborn they can get. As far as the military is concerned, pirates are not to be trusted. Yet, you were suggesting that we work together with them.

"As a merchant, you can pay pirates off to have your safety ensured. Neither them nor other pirates would be able to attack your ships. Any pirate that violates that agreement would lose a source of income in the future. So, merchants generally find pirates trustworthy. At least, their safety wouldn't be under threat if money was paid.

"But soldiers see pirates completely differently. Pirates are enemies, robbers at sea conducting illegal trade. A soldier would never trust a pirate. For instance, General Birkiin said that pirates only bully the weak and cower before the strong. Getting them to attack trading fleets is easy, but it's a whole 'nother story to get them to attack a proper naval fleet.

"Even if we're able to get in touch with the biggest pirate bands to fight the Fochsian navy and pay them a huge price for it, we won't get satisfactory results. No pirate band would be willing to go hard on a strong navy. The most they'll do is to sink two or three warships and call it a job well done.

"That's especially the case if we are the ones asking them to conduct the attack. This will become dirt they have on us. If word of this gets out, a scandal will develop and nobody can afford to be held accountable for that. That's why your suggestion was a bad one. It's only expected that the rest refused it.

"However, your usual task is espionage and reconnaissance, and getting chummy with the local factions. It's not surprising this thought occurred to you, so nobody blames you for that. Not to mention, you've just been promoted to major-general. You should spend more time with your family and flaunt your newfound status. Like me, you have three days of break, so don't stress yourself up."

Claude wanted to get Borkal out of his sight as soon as possible so he could get a little more sleep, but the latter seemed unrelenting. He poured himself another glass and downed it in one go. "I wouldn't trust other pirates to do the job, but what about Blacksail? Eriksson is our old friend. If he promises us he'll do it, I have little doubt that he won't as long as we're offering him support, such as a few ironclad warships."

It finally clicked in Claude's mind why Borkal made that suggestion, but he still shook his head. "No, Eriksson might be our friend back then, but a pirate's still a pirate. He's the leader of pirates, no less. No self-respecting soldier would trust a pirate."

Borkal seemed a little agitated. "Claude, don't forget that we grew up together. I trust Eriksson. While he's a pirate, he's still our friend. The fact that Blacksail is on good terms with the region should be proof of that. Even when we didn't have Ironclad, he didn't send his ships to raid our coasts and even chased away other pirates for us to protect our maritime routes."

Claude got up and got to the window to look out into the distance. After a moment's consideration, he asked, "Boa, have you been in contact with Eriksson the whole time?"

Borkal downed another glass of wine. "I did, so what? I didn't reveal any of our classified information. He only writes to me once every few months for some casual chat and reminiscence. He never asked me for anything either. When I returned with you from the Shiksan invasion, I noticed he wrote me four letters because I didn't reply. He was worried that something happened to me and asked if I needed help."

Claude smiled. "Why did he write to you but not me?"

"Well, you're the big man and he doesn't want to bother you. Not to mention, you're the Lord Militant and a hereditary count. How could he bring himself to rekindle your relationship? There's also his pride. If he writes to you and you don't reply, he'll definitely be embarrassed."

Claude shook his head with a smile. "No, that's not the case. Boa, Eriksson is a smart man. Even you know that writing to me won't necessarily mean he'll get a reply. Even if I did, I would ask him to surrender to the kingdom or give up on piracy and live a life of peace in the region. With my protection, nobody would dare find trouble with him. But he's quite the ambitious one and wants to be the king of pirates and found a pirate kingdom. That's why he wouldn't do something so pointless as to write to me."

Borkal seemed angered. "Claude, how do you know for sure he really has that ambition? Don't just assume you know what he thinks. In a few of his letters, he told me he sometimes wants to find a quiet place to settle down as a normal citizen and stop being a pirate. When I asked him to settle down in the region, he said he couldn't because his comrades are counting on him. He can't just give up on those with whom he had fought through life-and-death situations with."

Claude looked at him silently and waited for him to calm down. "Do you remember the first time we met him at sea? Have you forgotten what he said?"

Borkal was speechless. He recalled the first time they ran into the Blacksail Pirates and recognised Eriksson. Back then, Borkal's father had sold off all his assets and brought all his staff and their families as well as many vagabonds to form a meagre fleet with run-down ships to make a dangerous voyage to the region.

Eriksson seemed so spirited back then and had wanted to take all the vagabonds to his lair -- a rural island in some distant corner. He even called Borkal to join him and said he would make him a duke once his pirate kingdom was formed. Fortunately, Borkal didn't let it cloud his mind back then and said that the vagabonds would put a lot of pressure on Eriksson's food stocks, convincing him to not bring them to his island.

He also convinced Eriksson to stop recruiting him into his pirate band by saying he wanted to settle down in the region with his father. However, Eriksson had asked him to make a connection with Claude on his behalf so the pirates could buy supplies and ammunition from the region and sell their loot to the region as well. He had promised to keep the region's waters safe from harassment from other pirates.

However, the region later managed to get their own ships as spoils from enemy navies to form their own navy and secure their waters. A few years later, they started producing ironclad warships. Anyone paying attention knew the wind had changed direction. Sail ships were already obsolete and nations with ironclad warships would rule the seas in the future.

That was why so many Freian nations were willing to invest huge amounts of funding into researching their own ironclad warships. Many pirate bands also knew that the glory days of sail ships was ending. In another decade or so, pirates relying on sail ships would soon see their end. They would no longer be able to attack other ships escorted by ironclad warships. Instead, they would be sunk one after another.

Borkal finally snapped out of his fantasy. It was around then when Eriksson's tone of speech softened more and more. He no longer sounded like the brash pirate boss he used to be and made it sound like he chose the life of piracy because he didn't have any other choice. He claimed that he had only been labelled as a traitor and a pirate because he commandeered a kingdom's ship to search for his father with the subordinates his father left behind.

As a son, Eriksson passed with flying colours. He found his stranded father and reunited him with his mother. As a pirate, he was also hugely successful. Not only did he betray the kingdom, he also raided the kingdom's coastal areas and caused an endless stream of tragedies, becoming one of the top ten fugitives of the kingdom.

Currently, apart from the region, Aueras also had their own fleet of ironclad warships. While they still aren't enough to pose a threat to Blacksail, they were more than sufficient for defending the kingdom's waters. Borkal still recalled he once explained briefly the mechanics of the ship engines, but he was no expert. After that, Eriksson sent some men to purchase a few steam engines back home.

Half a year later, he complained to Borkal that he ruined three sail warships by trying to modify them to use steam engines, as the ships turned out to be as slow as snails. They weren't nearly as agile or speedy as they used to be.

Borkal jokingly wrote back that ship engines couldn't just be retrofitted using normal steam engines. The region's chief engineer, Liboyd, had spent more than two years to create a specialised steam engine for ships to give birth to the ironclad warships. The ironclad warships themselves, on the other hand, only started being researched thanks to Claude. The region spent more than two years before building their very first ironclad warship.

A pirate band like Eriksson's had no chance of replicating them at all. Using Claude's own words, it was a systematic problem. It involved more than just shipbuilding, namely, metallurgy, forging, casting and so on. Every step in the manufacturing process was greatly enhanced and perfected for the necessary technology to build ironclad warships to exist. Normal coastal nations wouldn't be able to succeed in that feat without at least five to six years of nonstop investment and research.

Ever since, Eriksson no longer wrote about researching ironclad warships. Instead, he wanted Borkal to ask the region whether they intended on selling the ships instead. It seemed obvious that he was aware that only ironclad warships could fight other ironclad warships. Without them, he wouldn't be able to continue his pirate career. With researching no longer an option, spending a lot of money to buy one became the only choice.

Borkal bringing the pirates up during the meeting probably had something to do with Eriksson's careful planning. Only by getting the pirates to serve the region would they stand a chance of being provided some ironclad warships to use.

Claude sat down and rapped his fingers on the table, looking at Borkal mulling over his thoughts. He finally broke the silence and said, "Boa, I'll give you a chance. Ask Eriksson whether he wants to serve the region. Consider it a cooperation. I know his character and he isn't one to humble himself that easily. Tell him that if he can eliminate one Fochsian fleet, the region will be providing him with six ironclad warships."

Chapter 581 - Myjack Joins the Household

After sending Borkal off, Claude no longer felt like sleeping. He sat alone in his study in deep thought. He didn't really mind his promise to Bloweyk, since the region wouldn't be undertaking any huge moves at the western coast in the coming year. Instead, they were going to shrink the scope of their battle to reinforce the defensive capabilities of the pamigar republic and solve the various civilian issues, mainly the distribution of land, caused by the war.

Additionally, the region had to deal with the internal affairs of the losman tribal union. Wiping out any internal strife was the main priority before they could be made into a vassal native nation of the region that wouldn't be a burden to them. Other than that, the region also had to deal with the troublesome racial conflict between the two groups of natives in Wasilisk's colony, the skro and jisdor.

That left the region little effort to spare on the western coast. Any plans or ideas would have to be delayed. The region wouldn't act another war started and the colonial nations invade the pamigar republic, in which case they would have to protect the native nation no matter what.

In essence, the region was going to focus their efforts on internal optimisation. There were still some two million homecoming Shiksans' families gathered at Port Patkara which had to be transported to the region before the homecoming Shiksan folks could be disbanded and settled. The administration would have to work closely with the local administration to assimilate the Shiksan immigrants properly.

As two new standing corps had been trained in the kingdom, they would be taking over the Rimodran and Askilinian regions. As such, the eight garrison forces from the region would also be sent back. Due to the formation of Typhoon, only retired veterans remained in the garrison forces. There was only a total of a tribe or two men, which could easily be retired and transported back.

However, the region had constructed factories in the three southern prefectures of Askilin to make ammunition for the new rifles and cannons. Skri would be in charge of moving them to Northbay. As Typhoon and Thundercrash, as well as the eight homecoming Shiksans, were currently in Port Patkara, the situation at Shiks was still really stable. Claude's expectation that the region's retreat would cause chaos to break out immediately didn't come to pass.

It seemed that the situation on both continents would be relatively calm for a good while. The region could only turn its attention back to the western coast after all the immigrants were transported and settled and after Thundercrash's return. As for the various factions in Shiksan borders, they could only start fighting once the region's troops retreated from Port Patkara for good.

That was why Claude made Borkal a private promise to get in touch with Eriksson to see whether his pirates had the guts. Since the region would be mostly inactive at the western coast for the coming year, letting the nations there get harassed by pirates wasn't a bad idea. Claude wasn't going to pay anything in advance, after all, and only promised to transfer six ironclad warships to Blacksail after they completely wiped out a Fochsian fleet.

Those six warships were basically the same ones as those given to Aueras, all first-generation ironclad warships that had just been retired by the region and left docked in Port Patres. There were no plans yet on how they were to be revamped and sold as. The navy had suggested they be converted into fast civilian cruisers transporting passengers between the two continents. That would effectively shorten the time it would take to sail to the other continent from half a month to ten to twelve days.

Currently, the ships still in service of Ironclad were second-generation and third-generation warships and transport ships. Liboyd and his researchers were also currently working hard on the development of the fourth generation. It was said that the new steam engines had passed through the prototype stage and would soon be installed in the new ships. Moriad made a report with a request to retire all the second-generation warships.

Admittedly, development on ironclad warships greatly enhanced the region's technological capabilities, mainly in terms of steam power, alloy refinement, forging, welding and so on. They even made huge strides in the field of chemistry, mainly in the form of the coat of toxic paint applied to the bottom of the ships to prevent barnacles and other undesired maritime lifeforms from attaching to the bottom of the ships. The coat of paint could lengthen the time before maintenance had to be carried out to remove those lifeforms from three to four months to a year.

But unlike what Claude remembered of his previous world, this world's technological development had too much focus on magical experiments. For instance, the new steel plate to be used by the ships was something rune magi discovered using their alchemical array. They would only later be brought to the refinery later for the refining process to be formalised before the final product could be made.

Birkin mentioned in the meeting that in the year and a half Claude was at Shiks, the top-secret technologies, materials and techniques the region acquired numbered more than 400, most of which had something to do with shipbuilding. They were gushing out like pressurised geysers. Thanks to the rapid development of steam power, the train locomotives the region used were now powered by seventh-generation steam engines that saw their speed shoot past 25 kilometres per hour.

However, Birkin complained that they were spending too much on shipbuilding as technology advanced. The problem now was the region was the top of its game in shipbuilding, with no other nation being able to match their prowess so far. They didn't even have the slightest hint of making their own first-generation warships, yet the region was already on its fourth. That was why he suggested that the shipbuilding efforts at Port Patres be stopped. It wouldn't make sense to spend money enhancing something they were already much better than everyone else at doing.

Claude was considering taking some time to go to the shipyards for a look. The development should really start to slow down. Perhaps they could focus on coming up with new tactics using those ships and compiling them. Any improvements should be made on prototype concept ships instead of replacing all of the old-generation ships with entirely new ones. In fact, they should consider ships with upgradability as a factor so the ships would be able to be upgraded once new advancements arrive.

Instead, the four large shipyards and the ship-design department could divert their efforts to civilian ships. Ironclad ferries, cargo vessels and large fishing boats would definitely be highly sought after. As long as there was a supply, there would definitely be a steady demand. It would be enough for each shipyard to leave a spot for constructing civilian ships or modifying existing warships. It was due time they profited off the market with their technology instead of reinvesting another two to three million crowns for the development of a newer ironclad warship.

Sheila entered the room and saw him alone behind his desk in deep thought. "What's wrong, Claude? Did your fat friend bring you any bad news?"

He snapped out of it and shook his head. "No, I was considering the future plans of our military. There are quite a lot of things I have to deal with personally. I will be going to Port Patres in a few more days. By the way, why did you come?"

"Why?!" she bellowed angrily, "Look at the time! go get some lunch already! I thought you would come to eat with General Boa, only to hear from the servants that he had already left while you are still in your study blanking out like that!"

Claude finally realised that it was time for lunch. he looked at the crystal sandglass on his table and suddenly thought of an idea to get Liboyd to design luxury timepieces for another source of revenue. As he accompanied Sheila for lunch, he deliberated over who he could put in charge of the matter. Perhaps he could let his illegitimate son with Sonia, Marcus, deal with it. Marcus was already a student of engineering under Liboyd, after all.

Just as he was about to take a nap in his room after finishing his meal, a servant came and told him Myjack had come to visit. He had no choice but to put his clothes back on to see his brother-in-law. What was with everybody visiting him on the same day?

Myjack was no longer leading troops in the field. He was mainly in charge of the military administrations' matters and logistics. In essence, he held the role of the supervisor like Skri used to. Claude, being the commander-in-chief of the region, needed a person he could trust well to manage headquarters. After much deliberation, he decided to appoint Myjack for the role.

Myjack had come to consult him on his itinerary after his break, as well as two personal matters. The first was to report on Tesoray's performance in the force. He was also forced by his wife, Claude's sister, to join the Han Ferd household and take on the name.

He had always been an orphan without a surname that ended up conscripted by the local government during the First Great Eastern Freian War to fill up the quota. Back then, he was only 16. Claude kept him close as his orderman. Eventually, Myjack, contrary to everyone's expectations, became a major-general and hereditary baron of the kingdom and could even hold the fort for Claude.

As his most trusted and the one who married his sister, Myjack did once consider joining the Ferd household. However, Claude had been far too busy, and the Ferd household was mainly controlled by Kefnie and Madam Ferd back then. Later on, the incident that caused Bloweyk's wife, Adele, to die and ushered in Bloweyk's departure from the household only added more drama into the mix. There simply wasn't an appropriate time for Myjack to come in.

So, Myjack sent someone to his hometown to try to find what his surname used to be. But due to an unlucky coincidence, his hometown's government office archives were burnt up. The ones who survived didn't really recognise him in the first place. Even the elderly that knew about the orphan couldn't recall his surname.

Usually, there were two solutions for someone in such a situation. The first was for them to join a household they were close to, and the second was to pick a surname for themselves to become the founder of a household. Given Myjack's current status and position, he was more than qualified of founding a household, but his serious demeanour made him feel unworthy of forming one just yet. Given his heavy workload and desire to properly pick a surname, he let the matter drag on till now.

Now that the two Ferd households were properly split, Claude became the head of House Han Ferd. When Angelina heard about it, she immediately forced her husband to join Claude's household. After much consideration, Myjack thought that to be a rather suitable arrangement, so he came to Claude for a signature and letter of agreement as proof. Those at the registration office needed Claude's signature and seal as the head of the household.

Apart from Myjack's matter, Gum was also going to retire and join Claude's household as a servant. Unlike Myjack and the rest, Gum had always played the role of Claude's guard. He was currently 46 years old. He had served Claude from the start of the First Great War and even saved Claude's life during the assassination attempt of the Greytower magi.

While Gum was a lieutenant-colonel, his military career was already at its end. Two years ago, he found a tough lady to take as a wife, who bore him a child last year. That was the reason Claude didn't take him along to the Shiksan invasion and left him at headquarters instead. Since the 25 years he joined the military, Gum grew weary of his career as a soldier and decided to retire and join the household as a servant.

Gum's full name was Gleimyte Opus. It was a shame that he already had a surname of his own; Claude would've taken him as a member of the household by virtue of him having saved his life alone. Naturally, Myjack was a branch of the Han Ferd household and wouldn't be able to inherit the position of household head, unlike Bloywek. But the more branches a household had, the more influential it would become anyway.

After discussing the matter of Myjack joining, Claude brought up his plans for Myjack. it just so happened that Staff-Sergeant Kester had gone to the royal capital with Kefnie to protect her and Claude's two children. Claude decided to let Gum take over as the head of security for a brand new force he could count on to defend his household.

Myjack brought out his notes and confirmed Claude's itinerary with him. He was no longer Claude's adjutant, so he didn't need to pay attention to his schedule every day. Instead, he merely kept an eye on the matters Claude needed to deal with and remind him from time to time to get to them.

The most important matter on Claude's plate concerned his visit to the pamigar republic three months later, assuming no war broke out there. As the commander-in-chief of the region, he would visit President Tanganem to sign a few treaties of friendship to establish cooperation in military, trade and economic matters.

The purpose of the visit was to broadcast the region's amicable attitude towards native nations by outrightly placing the pamigar republic under the region's protection. Anyone that dared challenge them would incur the regino's ire. It would also serve as a warning to the remaining Southern Freian colonisers at the western coast.

Myjack needed to double-check the date of the visit so that he could start preparing it with the pamigar republic and plan the visit in detail. Additionally, he wanted to ask whether Claude would also be paying the losman tribal union a visit in the meantime. Claude dismissed the idea as he wasn't the least bit interested in the union so long as they still had that much internal strife.

Having dealt with the official matters, Myjack changed the topic to Tesoray's performance. Claude didn't just throw his eldest son in the force and leave him to his own devices. Instead, he had Myjack observe him in secret. Yet, three years since he started, Myjack's evaluation of Tesoray didn't change. Tesoray was now the run-of-the-mill soldier that did no more than do the bare minimum required of him as a soldier without showing any initiative at all.

Initially, Tesoray was merely a weakling when he first joined. The half-year-long training did shape him up to some degree. He finally realised that his father wouldn't change his mind about sending him into the force, so he put in a little effort and became a qualified cadet. However, he would easily mingle with the other soldiers in the camp in their shenanigans. Some people were just born to follow.

From slacking off, hazing new recruits, stealing food from the cafeteria, drinking in camp, and teasing women, Tesoray behaved exactly the same as the veterans would. He didn't commit any huge transgressions, but his minor transgressions came often. Being kept in detention that often didn't bode well for one's military career. Soon, Tesoray became an actual veteran and joined two campaigns at the western coast. His performance could only be described as passable. He was part of four battles throughout the campaigns. It was said that he often boasted about having three kills so far.

In summary, his three-year military career was somewhat of a failure. Thanks to his disciplinary infractions, his rank was still that of a staff-sergeant. Yet, Claude's brother Bloweyk became a captain within three short years of joining the force.

Chapter 582 - Borkal's Failure

Half a month later, Claude went to the shipyards at Port PAtres for a survey and stayed there for half a month to have an in-depth discussion with the ship-designing team led by Liboyd. They held more than ten meetings and successfully came up with large, ironclad passenger ferries, cargo vessels, and large fishing boats. The four shipyards already received more than ten orders for them before the ship designs were even finalised, much to their glee. Who knew civilian ships would end up netting them more profit than warships?

Claude's personal meeting with Liboyd about the luxury timepieces also got the latter's attention. He believed exquisite items like timepieces could greatly enhance the technology and skills of the region. However, he would be letting his grandson Marcus take charge of it, believing he was fully capable of doing so. Claude didn't keep anything from his illegitimate son and told him everything he could recall about the timepieces watches of his previous world and drew a few watches and clocks for him as reference.

Additionally, he also talked to Liboyd about the possibility of forming a university of technology, only to be given a cold talking-to by Liboyd. Faslan technology was mainly based in alchemical arrays, and rune magi were the main driving force behind any of those developments. In a sense, technology was merely a distant application and extension of magic.

Starting a university to let the mundane folk learn about these technologies was akin to trying to destroy the legacy of magic and rebuilding everything from the ground up. It wasn't impossible, but it would require too much time, effort and funding. There was absolutely no profit to be made. The mundane folk wouldn't know how to conduct magic experiments. Even if they did have theoretical magic knowledge, it would be useless if they didn't have any ability to use magic.

For instance, rune magi could use their array to experiment with how different materials react to different situations to understand their properties. A mundane person wouldn't be able to perform any magic experiments, so getting them to understand the basic properties of allows, for example, required someone who understood the subject matter and was able to perform a magic experiment to demonstrate it. All in all, the costs added up to an astronomical amount.

Claude understood where Liboyd was coming from. There simply wasn't a repository of physics and chemistry knowledge in this world, with all the knowhow being kept in the hands of magi and called alchemy. They were also not systemised studies of the fields and the applications of said knowledge were almost always isolated with interrelation with one another. Liboyd, for example, went from being a gunsmith to researching hot-air and steam-powered engines, before turning to shipbuilding. He was someone who dug deep to study the specifics of a subject he was interested in.

Other rune magi were also similar in that respect. Their procedures for accepting and training apprentices also varied greatly. Some even had their apprentices watch what they did until they comprehended it themselves. There was often no unified syllabus with following subjects building on preceding ones. Whether the apprentices could master the craft depended on their own efforts. It was beyond pathetic.

And even if the rune magi discovered any breakthroughs through their experiments, they would hide them instead of sharing them with other magi, which heavily slowed the progress of technological development. Had it not been for the wildly unconventional autonomous region, Claude would've not seen much technological advancement, if at all, throughout the whole time since he transmigrated here.

If he could start a magic academy like that, the region could form their own magi council and provide annuity and bonuses. Perhaps awards and alchemical journals could be ushered in to encourage the magi to share their breakthroughs. Liboyd was a little moved by Claude's suggestion, but he wasn't optimistic on the exchange of information between rune magi. Most of them saw those advancements as their trump cards and it would be hard to convince them to shake off those traditions.

Nevertheless, he said that he would try to convince the magi to buy into this notion. He was still doubtful that a magic academy would be a good idea, as magi were framed as evil to the populace for the past few centuries. Even the rune magi employed by the region hid their true vocation from the public and conducted their experiments in secrecy. It was hard for him to imagine how the public construction of a magic academy would affect the magi as a whole.

After much consideration, he still told Claude he was being too hasty. It would expose the magi and their apprentices to the public eye. If the general populace objected to the notion of magi, it would be hard to ensure their safety. It would be far better to train suitable magic candidates in secret by calling the magic academy something else to hide its true nature.

As for the formation of a magi council, Liboyd thought it was a good idea. The other rune magi would definitely be happy to join since it was a recognition of their abilities. Nobody would refuse the yearly annuity payment and other bonuses as well.

The only issue left was how to convince them to give up the results of their findings, though that could be solved easily by having high rewards. For instance, the shipyards could seek out help from the magi council if they ran into problems that they couldn't solve, and any magus that solved it would be given a prize.

Upon hearing Liboyd's response, Claude did feel he was being a little too hasty. The current model of magi cooperation with the region was a rather successful one. The region paid them to do research and hand in their results. All 400 plus of top-secret innovations Birkin brought up were basically acquired in the same fashion. Though, the costs for the reward were a little heavy for the region.

Once he went back to Lanu, Borkal came to report to him about his interaction with Eriksson. His warmth was received completely coldly. Despite Borkal's concern for Eriksson as a friend, the latter didn't accept Claude's request that quickly on account of their 'friendship'. Instead, he dared to counter with a ridiculous demand for six ironclad warships before the deal and six more after he did the deed.

"How did you bring it up to him? Did you tell him the reason the region can't act?"

Borkal nodded, crestfallen. He had much correspondence with Eriksson over the past two months, six times by letter alone. Initially, Eriksson's replies were enthusiastic. He said he would be willing to work with the region to surprise attack the Fochsian fleet together with Ironclad and raid their coasts.

But when Borkal realised he misunderstood him, he immediately wrote back and stressed that Blacksail's task was to wipe out the Fochsian fleet alone and receive six ironclad warships as payment. Eriksson's tone immediately cooled. The next response accused Claude of considering Blacksail a pain in the eye and wanting to send them to their deaths.

Borkal could only write back, saying that Claude didn't have that intention at all and was giving Eriksson and the pirates a chance. Once Blacksail successfully eliminated one Fochsian fleet to prove their dedication, the region would seriously consider collaborating with them. It would be a great opportunity for Eriksson.

Eriksson then asked Borkal why he thought that was a great opportunity. The way he saw it, leading Blacksail into battle with the Fochsian navy was an act of suicide. However, he would be confident enough about his success if the region's navy lent him ten or twenty ironclad warships first.

To convince Eriksson, Borkal had no choice but to reveal some of the internal workings of the military administration. That way, he would understand that their offer was sincere. That would establish an amicable relationship between the region and Blacksail and also grant Eriksson's wish to have his own ironclad warships. Yet, when Eriksson got the inside information, he got greedy and demanded six before the attack and another six after he succeeded. He didn't promise that the attack could be completed either and only gave his word to at least carry out one attack. Additionally, he wanted the region to provide a million crowns' worth of supplies as payment for the casualties they would incur.

Borkal wrote another two letters to try to talk Eriksson out of it to no avail. It was then when he realised the true difficulty of his task. He couldn't promise Eriksson anything on behalf of the region, so he came to Claude to admit to his failure.

Claude wasn't the least bit angry and merely burst out laughing. He went to his wine rack and poured Borkal a cup on his own accord, before telling him he was expecting him to fail all along. Whenever it came to Eriksson, Borkal would always have his judgement clouded due to their childhood relationship. He wasn't behaving like a soldier nor a merchant at all.

Had Borkal been able to keep his wits as a merchant, he would've realised the purpose of Eriksson's letters wasn't to rekindle their friendship but to get more information about the region's military. At the same time, Borkal would be the spokesman of the region's pirates and they could obtain limited goods through him. Eriksson was well aware that he wouldn't be able to overpower Borkal using his money or status, so he decided to use friendship to pull him in.

With enough time, rock would give way to even just flowing water. Eriksson was counting on using years of writing to cloud Borkal's judgement. Over the years, Eriksson also held up his side of the deals he conducted with the wild-bull company run by Borkal's father, never giving him anything to worry about and building up the trust he had for him.

Borkal had failed as a merchant and did just as badly as a soldier. No proper soldier would ever trust the words of a pirate. Even though Eriksson was Claude's childhood friend too and didn't cause the region much trouble, Claude still kept his guard up against him without caring about their old relationship at all.

Borkal, however, trusted Eriksson deeply and even argued with Claude on his behalf. Yet, Eriksson refused the chance Claude gave him. Claude analysed it really clearly for his good friend to hear that the trust Eriksson had established with him didn't cost him any money, and even allowed him to gain word on the region's plans and actions. Borkal was a good source of information, so Eriksson kept in touch to maintain their friendship.

But when Borkal asked him to attack the Fochsian fleet, he would have to run a whole new cost-benefit analysis. Being the leader of Blacksail, he would have to refuse the olive branch the region offered and his friendship with Borkal to keep his band of pirates from harm and maintain their strength. If there was a law the pirates followed, it would be might makes right. Should Eriksson dare to harm his band just because of his friendship, he wouldn't be able to maintain his position as leader.

Claude consoled him by saying that it was a good thing they found out about his true nature that way. It would be far better than finding out once Eriksson used Borkal to do harm to the region's interests. He asked Borkal to give up on the matter and focus on the visit to the pamigar republic with him. He hoped that he could focus his efforts on Wasilisk's colony by researching the origin of the conflict between the jisdor and the skro.

Operation Wildfire's first phase could be said to be a half success and failure. The successful aspects were the region's conquest of Cape Loducus and the formation of the pamigar republic in Moloshik's colony -- the first native nation at the western coast. They also defeated the expedition troops sent by the host nations twice.

However, they didn't manage to liberate the natives of Lesnia and Wasilisk's colonies. In Lesnia's second colony, after the losman great chieftain was killed by local officials, everything fell apart. While they did manage to chase the invaders away in the name of avenging the great chieftain, they massacred many innocent settlers of the colony and even got wrapped up in a chaotic struggle for power with one another.

Thanks to the strong pressure from the region, they united for a brief while against the expedition force of the three nations but began their infighting anew once the war ended. Even with the region coming to help them forge the losman tribal union, it was futile. It was nothing but dressing on the surface. In the nation, there were seven factions constantly fighting against one another, neither wanting to submit to the rest. The nation was a total mess.

Wasilisk's colony was even greater of a headache for the military administration. According to initial plans, they would send troops to liberate the jisdor and skro and help them form their own nations after the formation of the pamigar republic. Naturally, they would have to put in their own effort to revolt and attack the Wasiliskian colonisers.

The revolt, which was more of a violent riot, did begin. The forces stationed in the colony weren't able to resist the two rioting tribes and had no choice but to request the neighbouring colony belonging to Opsaro for military aid. Just as things were looking bright, the jisdor and skro began to turn against each other. It developed into an all-out war that wouldn't stop until either side was completely wiped out.

Currently, the natives there no longer cared about revolting and driving their oppressors out to form their own nations. They were too busy fighting themselves. They ignored all help they received from the pamigar and the invasion of the expeditionary troops of the colonisers stubbornly focused on wiping out the other natives for good.

Chapter 583 - Visitation

On the 1st of the 7th month at the western coast of Nubissia where the pamigar republic's Port Saint Niklas was located, six ironclad ships spouting towers of black smoke approached the deep-sea pier. It was a small flotilla of Ironclad consisting of one patrol ship, four destroyers and one armoured cargo ship.

Those six ships were third-generation ironclad warships the region just finished constructing. They were escorting the commander-in-chief of the region, Lord Militant Claude, on his visit to the pamigar republic.

Port Saint Niklas was the largest deep-water port of Moloshik's colony and boasted the status of being the most prosperous port city among the four coastal cities. Port Gilda and Port Mills were both small fishing towns. Port Felimz was also another deep-water port, but it was located near the rural mountainous area and not easy to reach. Thus, it didn't develop as prosperously as Port Saint Niklas did.

After the founding of the pamigar republic, Port Saint Niklas became a rather busy port city. While trade with Moloshik's mainland had ceased, the ships from the region filled up that void. Military and supply aid from the region also came through that port. Eventually, the port grew busier and busier.

As the six ships docked, the cannons at the port's plaza fired ceremonial rounds, startling the white doves in the area away as the crowd at the plaza cheered. The pamigar republic had given Claude the most respectful welcome they could. There were up to a hundred pamigar maidens performing their traditional folk dance of welcome cheerfully while the military band at the front played an energetic and carefree tune all the while a group of high-ranking pamigar officials hurriedly walked to the pier.

Claude disembarked from the new warship, General Strouk (all third-generation ironclad ships of the region were named after legendary figures in Aueran history). He gave the dark-red-skinned pamigar officials a hug one by one. The one of the highest rank there was the prime minister of the republic, a man in his sixties whose smiling face resembled blooming chrysanthemums.

When he got to the docks, a petite and cute pamigar girl put a flower ring on Claude and kissed his cheeks before sheepishly leaving. The other dancing maidens then swarmed in to put flower rings on the others but spared them the kisses. The spirit of hospitality in welcome was in full swing.

The old prime minister then led Claude and the rest to the plaza to inspect the forces of the Pamigar Liberation Front. It seemed that they were deeply influenced by the region. Their ranks were neat and uniform, which earned Claude's praise. The pamigar officials took the praise with pride.

Lastly, the prime minister and Claude gave impassioned speeches to those present at the plaza before getting into the carriage to leave for the banquet venue. After a night's rest, they resumed their journey towards the capital of the republic, Pedapulas.

The journey there usually took two to three days. Throughout the journey, it was really apparent that the pamigar treated Claude's visit with utmost importance. Not only did they maintain that road, they even enacted a traffic blockade to ensure no carriage jams could result and delay Claude's journey. musket-wielding guards also lined both sides of the road.

As a result, the journey felt warm and safe. Claude never had to eat dry rations in the two and a half days of travel, being served with a full meal every lunch. During dinner, the service was even better. Outside Claude's resting quarters were two young and beautiful pamigar women waiting on Claude to call them in.

While he could control his impulses better thanks to his age, some young officers that accompanied him were filled with vigour and couldn't take the loneliness, indulging fully in the women's company. Fortunately, that didn't count as a disciplinary infraction, and it wasn't a taboo for the pamigar either. Claude thus let the matter slide, but not before warning the young officers to keep a tight lip on intel.

At two in the afternoon on the 5th of the 7th month, Claude arrived at Pedapulas. The pamigar's president, Tazinger Nora Taganem, travelled 15 kilometres out of the city as part of Claude's reception. The festivities at Port Saint Niklas were once more repeated in the capital. In the end, Claude and the president went into the same carriage and entered Pedapulas as the onlookers scattered flower petals into the air.

Claude's accommodation was set in Ankers Rose Palace, which used to be the residence of the Moloshikian viceroy. It was called a rose palace due to its colour. Ankers was the name of the designer -- architects of this time loved to plaster their names on their works.

Ankers was a famous architect from Southern Freia. Fifty years ago, he had been commissioned to build a few famous palaces across Moloshik's colony on the western coast. Not long after his return to Moloshik, he fell sick and passed away, leaving behind his famous legacies on Nubissia.

Ankers Rose Palace was situated on a small hill in Pedapulas, standing three storeys tall. One could get a full view of the city from the balcony at the top floor. In the distance was another grand palace built on another hill opposite of Ankers Rose Palace. It was called Jadefis Palace and used to be the accommodation built for the Moloshikian king, but now it was used as the current residence of the president; an appropriate residence for the most powerful man in the republic.

One of the reasons for Claude's visit was to celebrate the third anniversary of the pamigar republic's founding. The 7th of the 7th month was their national day. Claude could see from the balcony the colourful new flags that lined the houses in the city alongside the lanterns and flowers on display.

A group of pamigar maidservants came to report that the convoy the palace sent had arrived to pick up Claude and the rest to Jadefis Palace for the celebration. Claude rallied his men and rode to the palace, only to return rather drunk after a night's festivities.

However, he regretted it immediately the next day when he woke up beside two pamigar women without a speck of cloth on their bodies. Remnants of the memories of him going wild after he returned still lingered in his mind as he rubbed his sore waist with a pained smile. The pamigar loved to add aphrodisiac into their wine, which caused him to lose control and bed the two maidservants last night.

Tazinger was quite considerate about the long journey they had and knew they needed rest, so he didn't arrange for any activities on the 6th. However, there was no avoiding the banquet that night. However, the moment Claude was served with the aphrodisiac-laced wine, he couldn't help but ask Tazinger why they served them to guests instead of normal fruit wine.

The answer wasn't one he expected. Tazinger directly told Claude that the pamigar republic's policy was to increase their population. For the sake of their independence, they had suffered heavy losses across three years of war, losing up to 500 thousand youths in the process. The current population of the pamigar race numbered only around seven million, and the disproportionate loss of males disrupted the fine balance they had. There were far more women than there were men currently.

So, the parliament members of the republic adopted a policy to boost birth rates by mandating that every pamigar man had to take two or more wives and father at least four children to be considered having done his civic duty. Consequently, much of the wine sold in the nation was of the libido-enhancing variety to aid the men in fulfilling their civic duties.

As the president himself, he also had to carry out his duty to the nation, so serving the finest booster wine during the banquet was a given. If he didn't drink the wine, he wouldn't be able to satisfy the seven hungry wolves of wives he had at home.

Claude, however, argued that they were visitors and not pamigar, so they didn't have to drink the same thing. Tazinger, however, smiled and said that the guests were free to help themselves. It was a win-win transaction; the guests got their fill of women while the nation would get more youths. Every single member of Claude's cohort were assigned two maidservants trained in the art of sensual acts to ensure their satisfaction.

It would be all the better if they were impregnated. The children would be red-skinned like their mothers anyway and considered to be a pamigar as well. They would receive the finest care, so Claude didn't have to worry about enjoying himself to the fullest. As a friend and guest, the least Claude and the rest could do to thank their host was to help them increase the nation's population however they could.

Claude went from flabbergastment to confused laughter. The pamigar were willing to go so far just to increase their population. He then said if they were served that wine again, they wouldn't be able to promise they'd be able to attend the national celebration the next day. Missing it would be nothing short of disastrous for the republic.

With that threat in mind, Tazinger finally relented and switched out some of those wines for normal fruit wines for the guests. But when Claude returned to his room tipsy, he was sandwiched between the two teasing maidservants once more. It didn't take long before his member steeled up...

Claude spent the next boring day in much agony. He had a seat beside the president on the balcony on the first floor and had to wave nonstop to the parades passing by him. The parade was the main attraction of the national celebrations. Tens of thousands of the citizens of Pedapulas would cheer as they marched past the plaza with their lavishly decorated parade floats. They all cheered for Claude and the president before going off to enjoy the food served across the long tables that lined the road.

Then followed the parades from other towns and cities in the republic of varying sizes, ranging from smaller ones with tens of members to big ones with hundreds. All of the representatives of different locales in the nation would march across the plaza and sing praises and cheers for their leaders. Claude stood and waved with the president for almost the whole day and ended up with a sore arm.

There was another grand banquet during the night, but this time, no fruit wine was served, only booster wine. Even though Claude controlled the amount he drunk, he still couldn't hold it in at night and only got a good night's sleep after discharging his pent-up tension with two maidservants.

The 8th of the 7th month should've been the day the pamigar republic and the region negotiated matters of trade, but Claude woke up to find the rest of his cohort being too drained to do anything productive, so they delayed the matter by a day and decided to not participate in the banquet held that night. They would simply have dinner at Ankers Rose Palace and rest up to recover their stamina. Otherwise, they would be sapped dry again and again by the wine and maidservants.

A day later, the rest of them seemed somewhat restored, so Claude decided to hold trade talks with the pamigar officials. There were two main agendas of the meeting. The first was economic and military aid offered by the region, and the second concerned the region's desire to lease Port Felimz for use as a military base.

The economic aid was the more complicated of the matters. Apart from offering a low-interest loan of six million crowns over a period of five years, there were other aspects such as investments into civilian technology. For instance, one of the region's paper manufacturers had their eyes on the endless fields of reed near Milankorda River and wanted to construct a paper factory there. They needed the republic to offer tax cuts and favourable conditions.

Among those in Claude's cohort were 40 plus businessmen the region's council picked out. The purpose of their visit was to invest in the pamigar republic and use the region's influence on the republic to take over the market of raw materials. Thankfully, their demands weren't excessive and negotiations wrapped up within three days.

Apart from investors, the overseas bank also sent representatives with the goal of starting branches in the pamigar republic. They would also help the republic start their own bank and issue their own currency that would be pegged to the region's paper currency in price. The establishment of a complete financial and taxation system, as well as external relations as well as regulations on trade practices, formed the foundation for the trading relationship.

Regarding military aid, Tazinger asked the region's help to train four standing corps and provide the necessary gear, as well as help form 20 local garrison forces.

The request came as quite a shock to Claude and the rest. But when they considered the dangerous border situation the republic had, they could understand their anxiety and desire to prevent a fatal invasion.

Claude stopped the meeting and personally met with Tazinger and some other officials. He managed to convince them to hold off on military expansion first and focus on the reorganisation of their four existing standing corps. They ought to reduce two of the standing corps in size and merge them with the capital guard folk while eliminating the old and weak. New recruits Should be trained to replace the older troops, who would, in turn, be transferred to the twelve new local garrison lines.

If they were going to expand like Tazinger initially planned, the pamigar republic would have eight standing corps and another 20 garrison forces in total. Not only would the limited number of young males be recruited into the forces, the nation wouldn't be able to sustain that huge a force to begin with and would be left with no funds nor manpower for further development.

Fortunately, Claude corrected their ways. They should focus on cultivating a small number of elite troops instead. He promised them that Thundercrash would be transferred to the pamigar republic once they returned from the Freian mainland to help defend against others that have ill designs against the pamigar nation.

At the same time, the region would send officers to aid in the training and downsizing of the republic's troops and also provide the gear they needed. They would also help them set up their own arms and ammunition factories, as well as an officer-training academy in the capital.

After negotiations concluded, Claude and Tazinger signed the lease agreement for Port Felimz. The lease was quite a good deal as far as the pamigar were concerned, as having the region's troops based there was gratis defence of their coasts. So, only asked for a low rent of ten thousand crowns per year and signed a lease for 99 years in one go.

Chapter 584 - The Royal Family's Ironclads

Claude ended his visit on the 11th of the 8th month and returned to the base in Port Patres. Overall, the visit went rather well and satisfied both parties. The region's council speaker, Bolonik, as well as a few other council members travelled there to welcome Claude's return and praise them for the successful negotiation of the cooperation between the region and the pamigar republic.

Claude knew that the bigger agenda for the visit concerned the investment projects of the region, which many council members had a personal interest in. For every crown they invested in the pamigar republic, they would get easily more than ten times back in the future. It was no wonder they welcomed the team back so warmly.

Naturally, Claude himself benefitted quite a bit from the arrangements as well. Borkal also managed to obtain exclusive distribution rights for the booster wine for the wild-bull company. In other words, only the company which Claude and Borkal's father had shares in were allowed to sell the pamigar brew of wine in the region, which was sure to net them countless profits.

Claude, however, prioritised the region's military cooperation with the republic more. It was apparent that the republic knew well that while the neighbouring colonies harboured ill intentions towards it, they didn't dare to go overboard due to them having the region's backing. Claude's current visit was a public statement that brought the region from behind the scenes to the forefront, which was sure to keep the other colonies in line.

The lease of Port Felimz further strengthened the fact of the military alliance with the region. Under such circumstances, anyone that dared attack the republic would be humiliating the region at the same time and giving them more than enough reason to join the war.

In the eyes of the colonising nations, of the three colonies where the natives rebelled, the only one with any worth had successfully founded their own republic. The territories occupied by the losman tribal union, on the other hand, was covered in desolate, sandy dunes, which had limited development potential. Putting aside the fact that the losman tribes were fighting among themselves, the fact that it was sandwiched between the pamigar republic and the autonomous region was already enough to deter the other nations from taking that colony over.

As for Wasilisk's colony, it was even more complicated. The colony mainly encompassed mountainous territories and had two warring groups of natives, namely, the skro and jisdor. They weren't rebelling so much as they were fighting a war to wipe each other out. With Wasilisk's military might more or less fully drained following the two attempts at reclaiming their colony, they had decided to give up on it for good and were silently trying to evacuate their citizens.

Opsaro's forces, which received Wasilisk's call to aid, entered the colony and conquered a few coastal towns and ports. However, they didn't dare advance deeper into the colony, nor did they retreat their troops. Instead, they only remained stationed there. It seemed that they didn't dare to conquer the whole colony and risk being dragged into the war between the two groups of natives.

As a result, the pamigar republic's colony was the most attractive of the three lost colonies. While a nation had already been formed, not a single of the colonies at the western coast acknowledged them as such. But now that the region officially stood with them, anyone that dared attack the pamigar republic would have to consider whether the consequences of angering the region was worth it.

If they ignored the pamigar republic, the next logical target would be the last remaining colony of Lesnia that had no ability to defend itself. The colonies of Carmenleon and Reliaro once more turned to the colony that existed between the two of their own colonies. But due to the threat of being locked down by Fochs' naval fleets, they didn't dare go to war just yet.

Having returned to the region, Claude was once more swallowed by his busy schedule. During the last few days of his visit, he went to survey the region's voluntary corps stationed there. While they were formed from two Monolith folks and the retired veterans from the garrison forces by Birkin, Claude noticed something amiss when he went to check on them.

The two Monolith folks were switched out from time to time with the others in the region, so they fared much better. However, most of the retired veterans decided that they would settle in the pamigar republic instead of returning to the region after their discharge for one simple reason: staying behind would allow them to take two pamigar women as wives. Following the battles with the united army of the three colonial nations, many of them found their own partners after staying remaining stationed in the pamigar republic for half a year.

The pamigar republic was all too welcome of such a situation and promised all the soldiers a post as a mid-level officer in the pamigar military after they were discharged from the voluntary corps to continue their military career. There wasn't much Claude could do to counter that. Since they wished to stay, he couldn't really force them to return.

However, that would mean only those two Monolith folks would return. Almost all the other soldiers wanted to remain in the pamigar republic. At the very least, it was really easy for them to find wives there, and they could even marry two. It was a benefit the region lacked.

In essence, the voluntary corps had been neutered. After the two Monolith folks returned to the region, there would be no more voluntary corps. It was akin to the region training lots of capable soldiers for the pamigar republic's sake. Claude began to worry whether stationing Thundercrash there for the long term would also open them to poaching from the pamigar republic.

At the end of the 9th month, another 400 thousand Shiksan immigrants were transported to the region. It was the fourth transportation to be made in Year 606, yet there were still a million people waiting to be sent over in Port Patkara. The whole project would only be completed after another four voyages.

There were 3.8 million Shiksan immigrants coming to the region in total. After they were settled, the region's population should be around 11 million, just barely enough to reach such a healthy number. A third of the territory of the region would finally be put to good use and development instead of remaining barren and unpopulated.

Moriad had decided to have the ships checked and maintained. He also travelled to headquarters to pester Claude for another grant to build the fourth-generation warships and retire the second generation. Claude read the navy's report and immediately refused the request once he saw the estimated budget.

It wasn't even a joking matter. Where would the region be getting 20 million crowns to build the fourth-generation warships? The prices of the ships were rising as the technology to build them improved. A first-generation ship's construction had not cost more than 50 thousand crowns. But the second-generation ones each cost around 100 thousand. The third generation had driven costs up to well over 150 thousand. A third-generation combat ironclad cost 220 thousand, while the cheaper transport ironclads cost close to 100 thousand a piece.

As for the latest ones, each cost about 350 thousand to build. While mass production would lower the costs slightly, it wouldn't make up for the extra 100 thousand crowns they cost. It would already be impressive if they lowered the price by some 40 thousand crowns. Moriad's request asked for a budget of more than 20 million crowns. It was clear he wanted to retire the third-generation warships as well.

Claude would truly be mad if he approved that request while the region still reigned supreme with the first two generations of warships. However, after reprimanding Moriad, Moriad showed him something that made him lose his cool immediately. Claude immediately summoned the Head of Intelligence, Fodres, but was told that the department of intelligence wasn't aware of that fact as they hadn't looked into what the kingdom's navy was doing.

The thing Moriad showed Claude was a report on Aueras' navy. Before the region attacked Shiks, Claude handed over 16 ironclad warships to the kingdom to fulfil the arms deal. After that, they no longer paid attention to those ships. They were outdated models, after all. While they could take on sail ships, they were no match for the region's newer ships.

Only Moriad, the admiral of the region, continued to pay attention to them, thanks to the hostility he held towards the kingdom's navy. Despite having outdated ships, they would still be harder to deal with compared to other navies that used older sail ships.

Little did they know that the royal navy would immediately take apart three of those ships to study them and went back to the drawing board to carry out all sorts of experiments. Among those three ships were one destroyer, one transporter and one patroller. The navy was dedicated enough to sacrifice them.

After about a year's research, the kingdom began to copy the engines for the ships, though their technicians faced many difficulties from having to start from the ground up without any help save for the dismantled parts they had.

According to one technology expert the region paid off, the Stellin royal family invested five million crowns to research those ships. However, they didn't make much progress with the forging even when the funds were running out.

To fool the officials the king sent to monitor their progress, the navy built a large iron shell of a ship and dismantled two more destroyers to use their engine parts for those ships to pass them off as successes. The officials didn't know what they were looking for at all and thought their efforts had succeeded, so they excitedly reported it to the king.

As a result, the king granted them another five million crowns for the construction of an ironclad fleet that wouldn't be inferior to that of the region. The navy knew that they had made the wrong move. Nobody thought that the king would be so generous to give them a second grant. This time, they wouldn't be able to hoodwink their way out of trouble any longer. So, they continued to build iron shells and purchased ship engines from the region. As the kingdom ordered the obsolete engines, the shipyards of the region accepted that contract.

Soon, they almost used their funds. To be able to pass the naval review, they looked to the other eleven ships originally given to them by the region and used all sorts of excuses like training accidents, storms and enemy attacks to report five of them as sunk to sell them to other coastal nations for a high price in the black market, managing to gather another million crowns for their research.

According to the news Moriad got, the United Kingdom of Fochs spent more than 400 thousand to buy two of those warships. Three other coastal nations bought the other three. As they bought those ships through proxies, the naval officer the region paid off didn't find out which nations bought them.

All that should've happened during the latter half of last year. Moriad believed that other coastal nations would definitely spend much more on researching ironclad warships and have even better researchers unlike the Aueran royal navy's. He believed that at the end of this year or perhaps the next, the four coastal nations that got their hands on the ships would make even greater progress. It was really likely they would debut their own ironclad warships to threaten Ironclad's maritime supremacy.

That was why Moriad wanted to replace the second-generation warships with fourth-generation ones. Only then could they ensure that the new fleets of other nations could still be suppressed by the region's navy.

Fodres expressed his doubts about Moriad's report, thinking that the Aueran navy would definitely not do something like that. However, Claude told him that it might well be true, as last year, Bernard received complaints from Blancarte that the region didn't fulfil their end of the arms deal by giving them faulty ships that sunk during training accidents or storms.

Bernard didn't take those complaints seriously back then. The Aueran navy was simply unlucky enough to have lost their ships. He even told that to Claude as a joke. Nobody really took Blancarte's complaints seriously. The deal was over and done with and what happened at the royal navy's side was their problem.

But now, the royal navy seemed really suspect in the whole situation. It was indeed within the realm of possibility for them to pull a stunt like that. Fodres doubted that the royal navy would be daring enough to hide it from their king, but Claude merely told him that based on their track record, it would be impressive if even half the funds the king allocated to have actually been allocated to trying to forge the ironclad ships.

Most of them were definitely lost to corruption. It was a common practice in the royal navy. Currently, they had no way of making any quick buck and could look nowhere else but the funds. They had more than enough scapegoats to pin the blame on, and none of them was willing to spit out the funds they embezzled for themselves. Having no other choice, the remaining naval officers could only turn to selling the remaining ironclad warships.

Claude gave Fodres a new mission to find out about all the navy's secrets as soon as possible. As for Moriad, he was still given a harsh rebuke. Was the region so weak that it wouldn't be able to win just because it didn't have technological superiority? The enemy only got first-generation warships, so there was no need to grow anxious. The second-generation ones were more than capable of handling the first.

In the end, Claude still tossed the request into the trash. He sternly told Moriad that they had no plans of building new ships on a large scale in the coming years. Only one of the four shipyards would be kept for military use and they would be able to produce four ships each year. As the cost of fourth-generation ships was too high, they were permitted to only build third-generation ones.

Moriad had no choice but to leave crestfallenly.

Chapter 585 - Three Main Intelligence Agencies

Claude had decided to establish a new framework for the region's department of intelligence. The region only had one department, but the sheer number of operations and matters they had to attend to was enormous. For instance, they had to deal with counter-intelligence within the region itself, infiltrating other nations for military intel, and understanding the situation on the battlefield. As the scope of their operations was far too wide, they would often be swamped and be unable to effectively tackle each problem. An example of that would be their complete unawareness of the Aueran navy's recent shenanigans.

Claude was going to set up two additional agencies. One would be simply called the Information Bureau, which centred around gathering intel concerning external affairs covering military and economic matters to prepare the region for all eventualities. The other, called the Security Bureau, focused on counterintelligence and keeping the region's technological advancements secret, lest they leak to a foreign party. They would be aware of every single occurrence within the region.

As for the original intelligence department of the military administration, they would be split into two parts, namely Land Intelligence and Naval Intelligence. Land Intelligence was responsible for collecting information on battlefields. One example of their investigation targets would be the western coast, where Operation Wildfire was being carried out. Naval Intelligence, on the other hand, would deal with foreign naval forces and pirate factions.

But just as he was about to finish the basic framework of those agencies, he suddenly realised that the military administration would stand to lose a lot through funding the formation of these agencies' formation. Not to mention, the Security Bureau and Information Bureau, in particular, would be responsible for the region's safety on a broader level, so they should be funded by the region's council in the first place.

The military administration only had to have Land Intelligence and Naval Intelligence directly under their jurisdiction. While Claude could slip the formation of the other two agencies into the council's agenda without asking for explicit approval, given his stature, but that would be a little too forceful to be tasteful, potentially ruffling a few feathers he would prefer not to. Upon more consideration, he believed it best for him to discuss the matter with the council first and afford them some due respect.

So, Claude went looking for Bolonik, the council speaker. The council chairman Bernard had stayed behind in Northbay to deal with contact with the royal capital, so Bolonik was the main person in charge of the region itself. He took over as the acting chairman and ensured the smooth running of the council. In essence, the region was using a dual-track system and had two separate administrations for civil and military affairs.

The region's council was nominally the institution with the most power in the region, with most matters having to receive their approval beforehand. However, they were actually no more than glorified document stampers. The ones with true power were the twelve members of the executive committee of the council who directed all local policy and administration.

Even then, the executive committee had to get Claude's approval before going forward with any motion. In a sense, Claude was the most powerful person in the region. The ministers in the royal capital knew well that if they wanted to deal with the region, they would have to go through Claude first.

Claude found Bolonik with a crestfallen look. He didn't seem particularly happy to see Claude and took out a large stack of documents for him to see.

"What are these?" Claude asked.

Bolonik explained the source of his worries. Originally, the local administration of the region was modelled after that of the kingdom. Most local official candidates were selected through recommendations by people of repute. After the candidates were approved by the region's council, they could take up their posts. The other method, evaluations, didn't need council approval. The local administrative offices could simply test the applicants to see if they were qualified for the job.

For instance, Claude's father, Morssen, became a public official in Whitestag through the evaluation process. Whitestag had lacked qualified administrators. Morssen had used his good academic grades in middle school to get an official position. Through decades of hard work, he managed to become a member of the town administration as the chief administrator despite not having the backing of his family or any significant figure and got his dignitarian status.

The documents were collections of corruption reports. Claude asked, "Since there's proof, punish them per regulations. What's the point of getting all troubled up over this?"

Bolonik sighed. Claude only came to understand his difficult position after he let out a long rant. Originally, the local officials were sent from the mainland to serve the viceroys and high-commissioners. In time, the war theatre worked with local folk of repute to rid the administration of corrupt officials, eventually forming the region's council and military administration.

Back then, the colonies were all converted into states and local administrative offices were founded. After the removal of the corrupt colonial officials, the reputable locals recommended others into positions of authority. While there was an element of nepotism behind it, the officials performed their duties fine, so it was a good side benefit.

But as the region's economy developed and the number of immigrants increased more and more positions in the local offices became vacant. Many sharp-witted folk had their eyes on those positions. The mixture of those who were appointed because of their merit and those who weren't eventually caused the efficiency of the local administrations to decrease. Eventually, the phenomenon of bureaucratic red tape began to fester.

Throughout the years, the citizens of the region began to get used to it. Normal patrol troops would habitually simply grab a few apples from fruit stalls without paying, leaving the sellers with no option but to complain about their bad luck. While those officials were quite smart and wouldn't dare offend people in high places, they wouldn't have a problem oppressing those beneath them.

Had it not been for the large swatches of immigrants, the rot in the administration might have continued to go unnoticed. With the entry of more than two million Shiksan immigrants, some bloody cases resulted during the settlement process. Some corrupt officials had intentionally withheld aid the region promised to the immigrants as a form of blackmail, which resulted in a violent conflict that rendered the whole scandal unable to be hidden from the council any longer.

It wasn't that the region didn't have non-corrupt officials, but they in small minorities. There were even more who were more than willing to skirt the rules. What enraged Bolonik even further was the fact that a few of them preyed on the citizens, even going so far as forming gangs to collect protection fee from them.

Bolonik, being from a commoner background himself and developing a strait-laced personality throughout his career in the military, hated corruption with a passion. Before he went to war college, his parents, farmers living in the countryside, would often be scammed and threatened by local officials. His experiences in his youth had developed into a phobia of sorts. Seeing corruption was sure to provoke an emotional reaction in him.

He asked Claude how different would the region be from the kingdom? The local officials collaborated with each other to oppress those they were supposed to serve and hide their antics from those higher up. In time, the populace was sure to lose confidence in the council. He wanted to conduct a huge purge, but he was also worried about stirring up too much trouble and chaos in the process.

He was troubled even more by how such a purge left a power vacuum. According to the investigations he ordered, a huge majority of officials could be wrapped up in that matter. While it was easy to round them up, who should be put in charge in their stead after? There was also the need to consider the prevention of corruption in the future.

After unloading his frustrations on Claude for more than an hour, he recalled that Claude hadn't even told him why he had come. Claude handed two documents to him concerning the formation of the Information Bureau and Security Bureau and explained their purpose. Bolonik praised these proposals and said it would have no trouble passing through the council, given that they were supposed to be under the civil administration's jurisdiction.

However, Claude wasn't going to put them directly in the council's hands. If a single council member stuck their hands into the two bureaus, then their operations would be jeopardised. He also wasn't willing to put control in the hands of the executive committee, who were already powerful enough. Their influence would stretch too far in peacetime.

Instead, he had plans to form a special intelligence committee with twelve members to head the two bureaus. Those bureaus would report to the committee and remain parallel from the regino's council while being considered subsidiary to them at the same time. However, they would receive direction from the military administration and funding from the executive committee. Of the twelve members, five would be from the military administration, four from the executive committee and three from the council.

After flipping through the corruption investigations, Claude smiled. "Actually, your subordinates are rather capable. Perhaps we can form an Investigation Bureau to tackle corruption in the region and punish officials when there's proof. They can also deal with the problem of gangs and investigate their criminal activities."

Bolonik laughed and knew what Claude was getting at. They furthered their discussion to smooth out the formation of the three intelligence bureaus. Soon, it was decided that Claude would be the head of the intelligence committee, with Bolonik being the vice head. Myjack was appointed the chief secretary and would run the committee from day to day.

The five members the military administration picked were Claude, Birkin, Myjack, Borkal and Fodres. Borkal took up the post of the head of the Information Bureau whereas Fodres became the head of the Security Bureau. As for the executive committee, Bolonik, Henderman, Bernard, Weyblon and Saljorak were picked. Bolonik would be the one to pick the head of the Investigation Bureau. The remaining three council members would also be picked by the council. All of them would have to take an oath to never leak any internal information.

As for the matter that bothered Bolonik, Claude had two suggestions. The first was to only pick officials through evaluations in the future and refuse recommendations. All candidates would have to go through a standardised test and an interview after to ensure they were fit for the position. They would also have to be scrutinised by the Investigation Bureau. Should they be discovered to have committed any crimes, they were to be immediately arrested.

Second, operations to tackle the local crime syndicates ought to be carried out and order was to be strengthened and maintained. To deal with the local officials behind the scenes, they would first be transferred to another post before their arrest. Not only would that deal a heavy blow to the corrupt officials, it wouldn't disrupt local order.

The most troubling part about those officials was how they had really complex networks of interest with the local syndicates. If they were arrested in their home ground, the region might encounter heavy resistance, which would balloon the issue unnecessarily.

Claude's idea could avoid that issue by shifting the officials from Town A to Town B, and the officials from Town B to Town C and so on. Merely displacing them was enough to cut them off from their power base without alerting them to the investigations that would be carried out in their absence. Disjointed, their efforts to resist investigation or arrest would inevitably be thwarted.

Overjoyed, Bolonik decided to go with Claude's suggestions. The evaluation metric would first be set and implemented. After that, all existing officials would be requested to take those tests to ensure their capabilities were fit for the post. Additionally, the purge would be conducted in the meantime and the officials' transfers would be part of the evaluation process, so they wouldn't be able to refuse the transfer if they wanted to keep their positions.

Once the investigations and purges were complete, tests would be carried out in the local towns to pick out members of the public with clean records to fill the posts of the corrupt officials. However, Bolonik required the military administration's cooperation to undertake this effort region-wide.

Claude believed that only after Thundercrash returned would they have enough forces to execute the purge across the nine states of the region. Before the end of the year, Bolonik's task was to form the three bureaus, which would be a great help in the purge operation.

The 15th of the 10th month of Year 606 was a memorable date in the region's history. The region's council passed the formation of the three intelligence bureaus during their seasonal summit and appointed the members of the intelligence committee. They also granted the committee three million crowns for the bureaus' formation.

From then onwards, the bureaus bared their fangs against threats internal and external, gathering information on the enemies of the region in secret. They would be the sharpest dagger and toughest shield of the autonomous region.

Chapter 586 - Royal Navy Scandal

At the end of the 11th month, before Fodres took on his post as the chief of the Security Bureau, he brought Claude some news on the Aueran royal navy. It was probably his last assignment as the head of the department of intelligence, so he completed it perfectly. Unlike the technician from the navy Moriad paid off, the informants of the region managed to infiltrate far deeper into the navy and uncovered far more information. They were even completely aware of how much of the funds from the king's grants were embezzled.

After receiving the summary of the scandal, Claude asked Fodres about the matter of splitting the department of intelligence. Apart from the three bureaus, namely, the Information Bureau, Investigation Bureau and Security Bureau, the military administration also had their own Land Intelligence and Naval Intelligence institutions. The original staff of the department of intelligence would be transferred into these institutions. The documents and archives would also have to be split, which was certain to be a chaotic affair.

Fodres did report that the splitting of the department was going well. He believed that the split made sense and would allow for far more optimisation. Back then, while his post as the head of intelligence seemed high, he felt like a scapegoat most of the time. If he did well, it was only expected of him. But if he performed poorly, he would be criticised and rebuked from all over. He felt his hair whitening rather quickly since he took up that post.

Yet, now, all he had to do was to take care of countering intelligence operatives of other nations and keeping the secrets of the region safe. His burden seemed to have lightened considerably. He no longer woke up abruptly at night from paranoid nightmares as well. Most importantly, he was now a member of the intelligence committee, which was effectively a boost to his status. He had two salaries, one from the bureau, and the other from the committee.

Having discussed official matters, he bade his farewell. The recent proceedings ensured that he had a busy schedule, so Claude didn't keep him longer than he had to. He flipped open the documents and soon found the reason the royal navy didn't succeed in recreating ironclad warships.

As Claude expected, corruption was the main reason for the royal navy's failure. Fredrey I had obtained a huge amount of wealth through elevating noble Titles from honorary to hereditary ones and allowing them to pick their own fiefs. That was why he was so generous in granting the royal navy five million crowns in research grants after obtaining the 16 ironclad ships from the region in hopes of being able to obtain the technology of ironclad warships and improve upon them.

However, the royal navy had been starved for money for far too long and everyone involved couldn't hold back when they saw such a sum. First, they took three tenths of it per tradition as their personal benefits. All the naval officers had their pockets filled to the brim. Then, they used all sorts of official reasons to use the grant they were given. They would've used it all up, had they not remembered their original directive, not a single crown would've remained. However, by the time they actually got to the research, they only had 1.8 million crowns remaining to spend.

The second prototype failed because they were unable to recreate the proper materials. The royal navy proceeded to disassemble a third ironclad warship to make sketches of the designs and hired the sail ship experts and technicians to reverse engineer the theories and mechanics behind the ships, which went on rather well. However, they made a huge mistake when they tried to look for a rune magus to replicate the materials used by the engines of the warships.

It wasn't that the Stellin royal family didn't have court magi serving them. Ever since Stellin X's passing, Prince Wedrick, also known as Stellin XI, fought the civil war with Prince Hansbach. Thanks to the huge spending on the war effort and maintaining his luxurious lifestyle, the funding for the court magi gradually declined until they were completely cut.

Since Fredrey I took the throne, a few court magi returned to serve the royal family again. However, not all of them were experts in what would have been cold 'materials science' on Earth. The real experts in metals and alloys served the old nobility in their industrial complexes. Now that they got their own fiefs, the new nobility brought their magi back there to serve them.

The magi of the Stellin royal family focused on herbal medicine. They were completely incompatible with alloy research. Merely finding out the composition of the alloys was beyond difficult for them, not to mention the amount of time and funding they needed to perform basic experiments to gain knowledge of their basic properties.

While the construction of the ironclad warships wasn't anything too complex, they couldn't just be made out of simple iron plates. At the very least, the material used had to be resistant to corrosion and cannon bombardment. Malleability was the opposite of what engine parts needed to be, and the creation of propellers presented itself to be a huge obstacle. Liboyd himself had spent up to a year experimenting on it.

The royal navy's officers believed that giving away 100 thousand from the grant to the rune magi would be enough already. The magi themselves seemed really proud of their capabilities and didn't think material experiments would be that hard. They already had the designs from which to copy, so as long as they could get the materials right, forging the ships would be no issue.

Then came the experiments, which completely dumbfounded the rune magi. After spending their 100 thousand crowns, they didn't even manage to figure out the alloy composition of the ships' armour. Not to mention, the experimental ingredients the navy bought for them were cheap knockoffs of the real thing. It was no surprise their experiments kept failing. The naval officers even put all the blame on those magi, causing two of them to return to the royal capital in rage.

The remaining rune magi were more responsible and handed the navy a list of ingredients they needed, only for the naval officers to be stumped. The rune magi believed that without at least three years and three million crowns, they wouldn't be able to figure out the material the ironclad warships was made of. However, the king's grant was already running out. How in the world would they be able to get that much money?

It was a shame the officers were smart and cunning in exactly the wrong ways. To prevent harming their own wallets, some suggested that they didn't need to conduct those experiments themselves. The royal family had their own firearms factories with various alloy compositions. All they had to do was to find one similar enough to use for the ironclad warships. That way, they could directly refine those materials instead of paying rune magi to continue researching.

Eventually, they found a substitute material with mostly similar properties but as yet didn't have propeller and engine technology. Even with detailed designs, using substitute materials to forge steam engines yielded horrific results. They either leaked or overheated, causing all sorts of problems for the engine operations. There were even two cases of explosions which harmed and killed a few technicians.

By then, they had run out of money completely. When the king inquired about the progress of the forging, the naval officers reported that everything was going smoothly, and that the kingdom would be able to produce their own ironclad warships. Overjoyed, the king decided to send his minister to inspect their progress, putting the navy in even more hot water.

Thankfully, they soon came up with a solution to their predicament. They would first delay the inspector as best they could while making a shell of a ship. At the very least, they had to be a few times larger than the region's ships to impress. So, the shipyard at Whitestag scrambled to work on this new shell.

To save even more costs, the navy took a large sail warship to use as a base and covered it with iron plates. As for the engines, they still had some warships from the region remaining. They sacrificed them and reinstalled the engines on their new shell ships, only to realise that it couldn't move it. So, they disassembled another warship for another one to put in the ship. In the end, they managed to get them moving slowly. Though it was really unstable and shook quite a lot, it seemed domineering at the very least.

The minister had been spoiled thoroughly during his journey to Whitestag to the point that even he felt embarrassed about the treatment he was receiving. Once he arrived and saw the gigantic ironclad flat-bottomed ship contrasted against the region's own ships, he was filled with praises for them. Being unfamiliar with marine warfare, all he thought of the ship was that it was impressive. Based on its size alone, it could be armed with many more cannons and was sure to boast more firepower.

To thank the navy's grand treatment, the minister had his artist sketch the ship in its full glory and also flexed his imagination by adding ten plus cannons on the ship, not caring at all whether the ship would sink with that much extra weight. He only wanted to make sure it was as impressive as he could make it look. That way, the king would definitely be satisfied.

As expected, the king loved what he saw. The artist's rendition of the kingdom's own ship dwarfed the region's own like a man did a child. In fact, it was only double the size, but the drawing made it seem five times larger.

Fredrey I was overjoyed that the royal navy's own ship looked so impressive and had many more cannons alone. They even seemed more impressive than the ones the region gave them. He then turned to the naval officer to ask how much a ship like that cost to build. The head of the ministry of the navy hesitated a long while before sticking out a finger. He knew that the ship took only ten thousand crowns to hastily clobber together, so he was about to report it cost 100 thousand crowns.

Yet, the king misunderstood him. In the arms deal with the region, the ironclad warships were supposed to be worth up to 200 thousand crowns each. The depiction of the ship in the drawing seemed five times larger, so each of them costing five times the price was only expected.

With the king's single word, the cost for each ship to be built was set at a million crowns. It was rather worth it in his eyes, so he decided to commission five of them to be built. With six of those gigantic ironclad warships, the kingdom's waters were sure to be secured. The little boats of the region would no longer be able to rival the kingdom's behemoths. It was about time the region's bumpkins be shown the true might of the royal navy, who would be building up even more powerful ships than the region ever could.

The ministry of the navy's head felt his finger heating up. However, he was no fool and didn't argue against the king. He promised he would see to the completion of those ships and pledged to spread the Stellin royal family's name across the seas.

Knowing the true cost of the ship, they immediately embezzled half the funds they had been given and spread them among the other high-ranking officers in the navy. They took another million to thank the minister and other members of the royal court heavily to cover all their bases. In the future, the court would definitely be speaking on the navy's behalf.

Only after they had a million crowns remaining did they decide to start constructing those ships. However, bad news soon came that the sample ship they cobbled together had sunk, probably thanks to a leak. As a result, they had six ships to build and each needed to be at least three times the size of the region's destroyer. The only problem was where they were going to get the 12 steam engines from.

After many meetings, the navy decided to humble themselves to seek help from the region for the purchase of 12 steam engines, only to find that it wasn't something that could be done. The region only sold engines that powered industrial and merchant purposes. But when the request was reported to the military administration's brass, they realised that the royal navy was only trying to purchase obsolete first-generation ship engines. So, they approved that request.

They made sure to double the price of the engines, offering each for 35 thousand crowns. The ambassador, however, didn't accept it. Just as the region's negotiator was about to lower prices, the ambassador suggested each be priced at 50 thousand crowns. In other words, they would get to embezzle another 15 thousand per engine.

As a result, the navy spent 600 thousand crowns purchasing those engines, and that didn't include the costs of transporting the engines. The remaining 300 plus thousand crowns were used to construct the six ship-shells and fill up the corrupt officers' socks and sleeves even further. As the ships were to be triple the size of the region's ships, there was no suitable transport ship to repurpose as the core of the ships to be built. So, they built brand new sail ships before covering them in armour and painting them up.

Despite how the royal navy wanted to do their job seriously for once, they soon began to run out of money as their subordinates slowly chipped away at their remaining funds for their own personal cuts. After another detailed estimation of costs for labour and materials, they were a million crowns short.

It was no longer possible to ask the king for any more money, as that might prompt an investigation into their spending. However, it was impossible to get the rest of them to pay up for the completion of the six ships. After much discussion, some of them turned to the remaining ten-odd ironclad ships of the region. They decided to report them as damaged through accidents and sell six of them in the black market for more funds.

Then came Moriad's report that Fochs spent 480 thousand crowns to buy one destroyer and one patroller, packaged with the designs the Aueran navy copied. Carmenleon also spent 180 thousand to purchase a destroyer, whereas Moloshik bought one patroller for 200 thousand crowns.

Claude never would've expected Moloshik to still be interested in the purchase of the ships despite suffering much from their failed attempt at retaking the colony. It seemed they were unwilling to take their loss and would come rolling back to prominence in a few more years.

The last 'damaged' ship was sold to the Kingdom of Zikanchalia for 250 thousand crowns, designs included. That was an island nation near Northern Freia, located some 300 kilometres west of Shiks. It was also a strong maritime power.

Claude closed the documents and shook his head with a sigh. After Fredrey I's ascension, the kingdom got its hard-earned peace and its economy started to recover. The kingdom finally had a qualified king. However, this king had spent most of his life in the sheltered palace and didn't understand the true nature of people. So, he didn't understand how his subordinates managed to hoodwink him.

The scandal was proof of how deep the corruption in the kingdom ran. Bolonik's campaign to purge corruption in the region came at a fitting time. They were determined to not end up like the kingdom.

Chapter 587 - Trivialities

On the 13th of the 12th month, the transport fleet once more came with Shiksan immigrants to the region. But this time around, the 90 thousand plus members of Thundercrash also came along. According to the region's plans, Thundercrash would get three months of leave to spend time with their families and once more be deployed in the pamigar republic during the 3rd month.

But soon, Claude gave the order for the four folks of Thundercrash to gather at Aduras, Tyrrsim, Mormaly and Robisto respectively. As for the direct units of the corps, they would be stationed in Lanu in Anfiston. Monolith, that had been stationed in Anfiston, were sent to guard Balingana, Cromwell, Vebator and Loki Mountains, while their direct units gathered in Lanu.

Currently, all nine states, apart from Anfiston, had a folk of troops defending it. The two direct units in Lanu also amounted to more or less a folk. After the new year's celebrations on the 10th of the 1st month of Year 607, the region would tackle the criminal syndicates operating in their territories.

The passing of the year was quite disappointing for many people. Usually, official duties would only resume on the 15th of the 1st month. However, every official was given a notice before the 10th to head to a position in another town to cooperate with the purge. They would also be included in the evaluation list.

For the sake of their positions and their incomes of varying legalities, even the most short-tempered officials had to follow the directives without complaint. They were just working away from their usual post --something hardly without precedent-- and all officials were instructed to do so, so no particular person was being targeted. So, nobody suspected anything and sucked it up after a few complaints about their new year's plans being disrupted.

But once those officials reached their assigned posts, they found them to be a really secure military camp. Before they managed to settle down, investigators from the Investigation Bureau came up to them and brought part of their entourage away, allegedly to get their help to understand the local syndicates. However, they never returned after they were taken.

The remaining officials didn't seem too surprised and merely breathed a sigh of relief they weren't involved as those who were taken did indeed have a really close relationship with such syndicates. Some were outright syndicate members. By then, everyone knew that a purge was happening, so those that stuck out would unquestionably be snuffed out.

As the purge went on, more officials were taken away and never returned. It was said they had ties with the syndicates and even did them favours. More and more syndicates had fallen and the confessions began to rack up. Even those that covered their tracks rather well were eventually exposed. Some even provided proof of receipts with their signatures on it. It seemed that most officials did have ties with the criminal syndicates in their area.

As every state of the region had a folk of troops stationed within, the transport routes were effectively shut off. As such, none of the local purges caused any commotion elsewhere. The arrests were mostly made by the local garrisons. One catch led to another and even the bosses who operated behind the scenes wouldn't be able to escape. Whole locales had been locked down and there was simply no way to get away. Having no choice, those captured surrendered their contacts.

Some syndicate bosses who would rather fight to their deaths gathered their men and dealt some casualties to the purgers, but no matter what they did, they wouldn't be able to resist the infantry cannons the troops brought. Two to three volleys would be enough to get them to surrender or begin collecting their corpses. No matter how powerful those gangs were, they were simply no match for the most violent, state-sanctioned 'gangs'.

The purge soon spread far and wide and reports were sent to the command centre for the purge operations. According to many officers, cases of local garrisons collaborating with local gangs were the minority. There were only four to five instances in all nine states.

However, the number of corrupt cases in the constabularies were innumerable. More than a third of constables were informants of the syndicates. It was clear that the constabularies needed a complete cleanup. Saljorak, being the one in charge of all constable affairs, was embarrassed and enraged that it happened under his watch.

However, the successful capture of the syndicate members didn't mean the end of the purge. What had to be done next was The officials that were transferred had to be investigated and those proven to be involved in corruption would be taken away to await having their familial assets confiscated or their whole families sent to the labour camps to pay the price for enjoying benefits they didn't deserve thus far.

Bolonik steeled himself to root this problem out once and for all. By the time the middle of the 2nd month came along, the purge was entering its end stages. Quite a number of council members had come to put in good words on behalf of those captured that they had ties with. However, Bolonik refused to hear any of them out and told them that the ones arrested had eroded the region's cornerstone. Being soft on them was doing the exact same thing. If that was allowed to continue, the region's foundation would be so eroded that it would collapse onto itself.

With Claude's support, Bolonik wasn't afraid of incurring the rage of the council members at all. In a sense, the council members' interests were aligned. They had shares of each other's monopolies. For instance, the two large industries of railroads, tobacco, shipyards, breweries, paper mills and mines were all lucrative businesses.

The council members were part of the ruling class. Having enjoyed more than enough benefits, they turned to consider their household reputation. Those that came to ask for mercy for some of the implicated were pressured by their families and other ties. Having been refused and rebuked by Bolonik, they immediately expressed their support for the purge and made sure to make their praises heard through the local newspapers.

They were all cunning foxes as far as Bolonik was concerned. He had wanted to see any of the council members push their luck so he could make an example out of him and strip him of his council membership. It was too bad nobody afforded him that chance; anyone sharp enough to join the council wouldn't be taken down so easily. None of them would be willing to give up on their position and make an enemy of Bolonik and Claude for their relatives or acquaintances that got into trouble on their own accord.

The huge purge caused large numbers of vacant positions in the local administrations to open up. At least three-fourths of those positions needed filling, though it wasn't that bad as the purge ensured the maintenance of local order in that timespan. The situation of the constables was also not as bad as expected. At least half of them were still in the force and they were enough to maintain basic societal order.

As Bolonik had his subordinates and investigators conduct local evaluations, he rushed Claude for a list of troops that would be retiring that year. He would be using that list to pick a few qualified veterans to fill the vacant administrative positions. Both the executive committee and military headquarters were swarmed with work. Fortunately, Claude didn't forget to make up for the break the troops missed out on due to the purge, or all hell would break loose.

The 3rd month of Year 607 saw the greatest amount of spoils to enter the hand of the region. The spoils from the Shiksan invasion had finally been completely shipped back, and now, they had to be liquidated and converted into cash for the troops. Apart from Thundercrash, the troops of Typhoon and the homecoming Shiksans also got a share depending on their performance and results on the battlefield.

On average, the homecoming Shiksans obtained ten gold crowns each, whereas the troops of Typhoon got 20 to 28 each and those in Thundercrash could get up to 40. The list of achievements of their respective units was public for everyone to see.

During the end of the 3rd month, another batch of ships arrived at the region. Moriad had come with General Eiblont's report. currently, the general was in Port Patkara with Typhoon alongside the eight homecoming Shiksan folks and some 600 thousand Shiksan immigrants.

In another two batches that would transport the rest of the Shiksan troops and immigrants to the region, only Typhoon and some 100 thousand Shiksan captives would remain there. According to the plan, Typhoon only had to leave a folk of 18 thousand plus troops stationed there and another 40 thousand captives to develop the land at the outskirts of the port into farmland. The other three folks would be heading to Northbay with the rest of the captives.

Eiblont said that Thundercrash's departure caused Shisk to grow a little unstable. The Duke of the northlands was gathering his forces, around four standing corps of them. The National Defence Army was also clashing with Duke of Sunset River nonstop at the borders of the royal territory in small-scale skirmishes. As for the collaborators in the National Preservation Front, they were the first to start fighting among themselves for territory.

Even before the other three large factions of Shiks started fighting, the National Preservation Front already started tearing themselves apart. They seemed to have been waiting until the region's troops properly retreated first to start the fight lest they were backstabbed by the region while they were keeping themselves busy. That would truly be a blow too hard to recover from.

Eiblont wanted to ask whether Claude was only going to leave a folk of Typhoon in Port Patkara. he believed leaving the whole corps there would be far better to pose a threat to the Shiksan factions. At least, the battles wouldn't grow too chaotic. He was worried the war between the three factions would affect the development of Port Patkara.

Claude shook his head and wrote back to Eiblont, telling him to follow the original plan. The bigger the fight between the Shiksan factions, the better. Only then could peace be guaranteed in Port Patkara. The longer they fought, the more they would need to count on the region to sustain them. That was when Port Patkara would truly shine and grow into a prosperous market.

Eiblont was a soldier through and through. His first reaction at the sight of the enemy was to wipe them out and protect himself instead of trying to use them to his own ends. Claude and the region were hoping the three factions could escalate the fighting for a few years while the region supported the weaker factions, not letting either be truly wiped out to maintain that power balance. Only then would Shiks truly lose all hope for reunification and split into three smaller nations.

After finishing his letter, he was told by Fachselin that the pamigar republic had sent an ambassador to hurry the region to station Thundercrash in their territory to fulfil their obligations as allies. The pamigar republic did accept the region's proposal to cut down on two of their standing corps. Now, they, felt like they couldn't defend themselves at all, and the region still hadn't sent their troops over, so they sent an ambassador in haste.

Claude could only apologise for the delays thanks to the extra break the soldiers were taking to make up for the purge. He asked the ambassadors to give them another month. Thundercrash would be able to deploy starting in the 4th month.

During that time, Claude could guarantee them that they would not come under any attack, as word of the region sending their most elite unit, Thundercrash, there had already spread at the western coast. Nobody would be foolish enough to give the region an excuse to attack them by provoking the pamigar republic.

Fortunately, apart from sending Thundercrash, the region did fulfil other aspects of military aid they promised. They had long sent the officers and arms over, so the pamigar republic had nothing else to say.

A month soon passed and Thundercrash 1st Folk was already on a voyage to Port Felimz, which the pamigar republic leased the region. The pamigar ambassador followed them back and thanked Claude warmly before he left. Claude promised that he would send one folk each month. In four months, almost the whole corps would be in place.

However, the direct units of Thundercrash could only leave half a year later due to new recruits having to fill the place of the retired veterans. Most of the recruits had to first complete half a year or training before they could be sent to the pamigar republic.

Having dealt with those matters, Claude wanted to take two days off, only for Borkal to visit. He came to ask for money and justified it confidently, saying that he wanted the Security Bureau and Investigation Bureau only had jurisdiction of the region's territory whereas his Information Bureau had to reach out to other Freian nations. Why, then, was he given the same million-crown budget as the rest?

Claude laughed and told him that the biggest difference between the Information bureau and the other two bureaus was their autonomy. In other words, they could use their operations as fronts to make money through companies. They could freely infiltrate other nations as businesses or merchants to send their informants deep into the cities and markets of the other nations, and the profits they made on the side could funnel back into their operations.

In other words, they would be able to source their own income apart from getting a budget from the region. Claude told Borkal that instead of figuring out how to set up a framework for espionage, he would be better off forming companies or trading groups first and collecting information that way.

Enlightened, Borkal was just about to leave when Claude stopped him. He said Borkal came just at the right time. He just received a bill for a million crowns from Bolonik, which was part of the three-million-plus crowns they got from the purge. The region had decided to invest another million into the companies of the Information Bureau.

Chapter 588 - Attack on Port Wades

Claude only got some free time during the middle of the 5th month. With most small matters dealt with, he turned his attention back to the western colonies. The situation there had turned into a stalemate. When word of the region forming an alliance with the pamigar republic spread, the other western colonies knew that they could no longer invade the republic.

Attacking the pamigar republic at that time was akin to declaring war against the region. Nobody would be foolish enough to do something like that. So, the colonies of the western coast retracted their claws and no longer looked at the colonies of other nations with greed. Instead, they focused on increasing the defences of their own colonies, trying to appear completely harmless to each other as if they had transferred two to three whole standing corps just for defence.

Weyblon formed a trading band during the 2nd month and sent them to the western nations to negotiate the matter of the embargo. The whole tour only took three months and the band was warmly welcomed by all the colonies. However, the matter embargo still couldn't be lifted and the goods of the region had no way of legally entering the markets of the western coast.

A viceroy of one of the colonies told Weyblon that while they treated them well as a friend, but lifting the embargo would mean the extinction of the nobles' factories and businesses in the colonies. The nations on Freia would thus be unable to profit off their colonies any longer and nobody would be able to bear such consequences, so they would rather risk angering the region by continuing to enforce the embargo.

Since Weyblon only got the colonies' expressions of friendship and was still unable have the embargo lifted, so he returned to the council and told them nothing short of completely crushing those colonies would lift the embargo.

Even Claude wished to be able to use force to topple the regime of those colonies, but he lacked the excuse to do so. A mere embargo wasn't enough to prompt the region to send in their troops, as the colonies were simply trying to protect the business interests of their nations. The region wasn't so domineering as to even deny them that.

The western colonies were definitely no fools. After the region allied with the pamigar republic, leased their port to use as a military base and sent Thundercrash to protect their borders, they basically unofficially admitted that they were the masterminds behind the pamigar liberation. It was an open secret, but nobody dared to admonish the region without concrete proof.

It was simply a matter of bad luck that Moloshik, Lesnia and Wasilisk lost their colonies. The other western colonies had learned a lesson from those three nations' experience and increased the control and supervision over the natives in their colonies. Naturally, that also came with treating them better to placate them and strengthening the defences at their border to prevent a surprise attack from the enemy.

Claude and the other strategists of the region scrutinised the situation and found no opening they could take advantage of and gave up on the notion of causing trouble. The defences were far too tight. The region's priority this year was to focus on settling the homecoming Shiksans and their families in the inner states anyway, so they could afford to wait until next year before moving forward with their plans for the western coast.

However, accidents never happened with a warning. One night during the end of the 5th month, the Fochsian colony of Wades Mountains suddenly came under attack from countless pirates. One of the Fochsian fleets that stopped at Port Wades Mountains came under sudden attack by pirates waiting in ambush as its crew was resting and making merry ashore. The pirates easily swarmed those defenceless ships and commandeered them.

About 60 sail ships in good shape fell into pirate hands, with 40 plus others being set aflame. All of a sudden, Fochs lost one of its four fleets just like that. Even the shipyards in the colony they had planned to develop into a shipyard had been ransacked clean.

All of Fochs was fuming as if they had been given a loud slap on the face. Nobody had dared to challenge their four powerful fleets like that before. Usually, ships flying Fochsian flags easily avoided pirate attacks.

Little did they know that group of pirates would work together to attack their fleets like that and even successfully ransack their shipyards. Fochs suffered a shocking loss and they immediately sent two strong fleets to the Nubari Islands in an attempt to find the pirates that provoked them.

Claude didn't think he would be running into such a predicament like that. Initially, he was only casually suggesting the proposal and didn't think Eriksson would actually go through with it. Yet, something like this happened after he cut off communication with the regions. With one Fochsian fleet eliminated, the conditions of Claude's offer were fulfilled. Now, it was Claude's turn to fulfil his end of the bargain and hand over six ironclad warships.

"Did Eriksson really lead this operation?" Claude asked Borkal with a pained look.

Borkal nodded. "This is the third time you asked this question, Claude. I triple checked and made sure that Eriksson was the one who gathered 13 other pirate bands for the joint attack on Wades Mountains. To the other pirates, obtaining the Fochsian sail ships is something they'd been dreaming of for a long time. The Fochsian fleet that stopped there actually gave the pirates a golden opportunity.

"Eriksson had said that he had been paying attention to Wades Mountains for quite some time as it was quite an ore-rich territory, which was rare for the western coast. If he could pillage a transport ship filled with precious ores, he would make quite a huge profit.

"However, he soon realised that the ore mined there is no longer sent to Fochs, but rather kept in the colony's warehouses. The colony was also hiring manpower to develop the port into a city. He soon heard that Fochs planned to make Wades Mountains into a place to build ironclad warships.

"From then on, he spared no effort and kept sending his men to infiltrate that colony. Even the local administration there didn't know that the famous smuggling captain that often traded at the port was none other than Eriksson himself.

After that, he noted the biggest weakness of the port: its lax internal security despite its tough external security. The fact that the Fochsian fleet's crew immediately disembarked to enjoy booze and women is proof that.

"If he could take over twelve cannon platforms without triggering an alarm and let the pirates in from the outside, it would all be over. The guards the crew left on their ships were completely no match for the ragtag pirates.

"The shipyards built at the port were also stripped clean like a de-feathered turkey. No resistance by the locals could stand up to the cannons of the pirate ships. Eriksson believed that his attack would net him great profits, as he had seen the Fochsians sail two ironclad warships into the shipyard and had already started to forge four more. In other words, there are six ironclad warships in that shipyard."

"What next? Did he get all of them?"

"Well, he did, but he then found that they were merely empty shells with no engines installed. The rune magi of Fochs admitted that they were stuck on what materials to use for the steam engines. They still don't have any results, so Eriksson had no choice but to drag the rune magi, technical experts and the ship shells away.

"Now, he sent someone to me and asked me to tell you to follow up on your word. You said you would give him six retired first-generation warships to them if he managed to exterminate one Fochsian fleet. So, when are you going to hand them over?"

Claude hesitated for a moment. "Boa, do you think it would really be the right thing to give them those ships? I worry that we would suffer losses from pirates in the future."

Borkal nodded. "I'm not trying to talk on Eriksson's behalf, but I believe that letting Eriksson and the pirates join the fray might bring about positive changes. This will be more beneficial to the region than the current stalemate on the western coast. We can hand the ironclad warships over, but we have to find a way to make it seem like they obtained the ships from us by force instead of us handing them over."

Claude rapped on the table with his fingers as he sunk in deep thought. "Hmmm, let me take some time to consider this. Tell Eriksson to wait three days and ask him whether he needs to get some work done on those ship shells. We might just be able to help them modify the ships into actual functioning ironclad warships."

Blacksail's successful attack on Wades Mountains and extermination of a Fochsian fleet earned them instant notoriety, if indirectly. The two Fochsian fleets sent to Nubari Islands were trying to locate their mysterious assailant.

The decision to hand six first-generation ironclad warships to Blacksail would first have to be discussed with the officers of high enough station to take place in the meeting. In the end, Birkin was the one who successfully persuaded them to go through with it.

Birkin believed that now that Blacksail made an enemy of Fochs and caused them to send two of their fleets to track them down, the other pirates definitely harboured ill will towards Eriksson for dragging them into danger. The first thing they would do was to offer the Fochsian navy any information they had on Blacksail.

Under such circumstances, boosting Blacksail's might and letting them fight on even grounds with the Fochsian fleet was a good thing. They might even be able to deal another blow to the Fochsian navy. That way, Fochs would no longer be able to flex their influence at sea. The moment their two fleets were beaten back, their three colonies at the western coast would come under threat from the other colonial nations.

As for the question of whether Blacksail would be a threat to the region, Birkin didn't worry too much about that. First, the region's navy was fitted with the latest ironclad warships that could absolutely dominate first-generation ones. Second, Blacksail had no choice but to rely on the region for maintenance and upgrades for their ships. If they were right in the head, they would never even humour the thought of antagonising the region.

Claude decided to give Eriksson a chance and followed through with his word. He would hand those six ships over and offer maintenance and upgrading service for the ship shells, but he added a high price of 100 thousand crowns per ship. What he didn't expect was for Eriksson to actually send 600 thousand crowns' worth of treasures over as well as the six ship-shells.

The matter with Eriksson was thus put on hold -- getting the six ships into working order took time, after all. During that time, the region's fleet transported another 300 thousand Shiksan immigrants and four homecoming Shiksan folks over. One last trip was needed to wrap everything up. The eight homecoming Shiksan folks would then have to be downsized according to the plan.

"What is the meaning of this?" Claude looked at the blood oaths, or at least that was what he thought them to be. The signatures were covered in blood.

One of the two commanders of the eight homecoming Shiksan folks, General Drivick, stood before Claude with his face flushed red with embarrassment. Awkwardly, he explained, "Lord Militant, these blood oaths are signed with the Shiksan troops' blood. They aren't willing to retire. In fact, they even pledged to be sacrificed on the battlefield as long as their folks aren't disbanded."

No further explanation was needed. Claude instantly understood that the cash prizes distributed over the last few months really moved the Shiksan troops. They realised that if they continued to serve in the force, they would be showered in gold in the future. Being disbanded and having to return to being commoners meant that they would no longer enjoy such benefits any longer.

It should come as no surprise. The homecoming Shiksans went back home to fetch their families to the region, with all the costs covered by the region. In the meantime, they even enjoyed monthly salaries and bonuses without even having to fire a single bullet, being on guard duty most of the time. And after their return, they were even given ten crowns as a reward. Who wouldn't be moved from all that?

If they worked as civilians and farmed land, they would get some two to three thales monthly at most. Compared to the homecoming Shiksans that fought off the insurgent groups in the Shiksan capital, civilians earned far too little. Those troops got more than 40 crowns per person, and the more battlefields they went to, the more they earned. So, the Shiksan soldiers decided to pledge their service to the region in the form of blood oaths.

Claude considered it for a moment and told Drivick, "The region still has a voluntary corps. The eight homecoming Shiksan folks will still have to be disbanded either way. Pick out the ones that want to serve and filter out those with good track records to join the voluntary corps. The voluntary corps shall have four folks of 90 thousand troops like Thundercrash and Monolith. I'll make you its acting corpsman for the moment."

Chapter 589 - Battle of Nubari Islands

The region already had plans for the soldiers in the eight homecoming Shiksan folks that didn't wish to retire as they were being downsized. With the region gaining an extra 3.8 million immigrants from Shiks, an having an extra corps of Shiksans in the region's force might have positive effects on them. They would see that the region didn't treat them as outsiders.

As such, Claude left quite a lot of spaces in the voluntary corps for the eight Shiksan corps. Drivick could pick the most elite 30 plus thousand of them to join the voluntary corps that would be armed the same as Thundercrash and Monolith. In other words, they would be using new rifles instead of the Weyblon muskets.

Now that the families of those Shiksan soldiers had moved to the region, Claude wasn't worried about them rebelling at all, so he gave them the same treatment as the soldiers of Thundercrash and Monolith to show his impartial treatment. However, they would have to be properly trained in using the new rifles to prevent unnecessary wastage of ammunition.

Naturally, that didn't mean they would immediately be deployed anytime soon. So far, only four folks had been transferred back. The other four were in Port Patkara and would return with the last batch of immigrants. The region had decided that the voluntary corps would soon be deployed in the western coast. Even if the war there ended, the corps would still be used and stationed at the port cities leased across the western coast to defend the region's interests.

On the 17th of the 8th month of Year 607, a flotilla of six ironclad warships arrived at Port Felimz. According to the deal between the region and the republic, the six warships were there as part of a training unit to bring up the republic's own navy.

The region sent their naval troops to teach the pamigar how to sail the six ironclad ships. After half a year of actual practice, the six ships would be handed over to the republic as part of their first naval patrol force. The region didn't skimp on aiding the republic at all.

Ten or so days passed just like that and the naval officers got along rather well with the pamigar troops they were training. Coincidentally, two of their students had the same birthday with one of the region's captains, so they decided to host a birthday party together.

Thanks to the presence of booster wine and many beautiful and eager pamigar maidens, the party turned into a night of debauchery. The whole lot of them only woke up during noon the next day. When one of the officers unconsciously turned to the six ironclad warships' direction, he cried, "Where's our ships? Where have they gone?!"

Six ironclad warships were vaporized just like that. All the naval officers and pamigar students were arrested and even the maidens were not spared. Initially, the pamigar republic's high officials thought that the region planned the whole spiel because they weren't willing to give the ships to the republic.

But following more investigation, a list of the region's naval officers who had sexual relations with the pamigar women the night before revealed that all those officers of the six ships were not on board. The young women provided their alibis, so they were not involved in the theft of the ships.

If the naval officers weren't the ones involved, then how did the ships disappear? The pamigar students only started their lessons little more than a few days ago and there was no way they could sail the ships without supervision themselves. That was probably part of the reason why the region's officers were so daring and went to the party without even assigning guards to the ships. They thought that nobody else would be able to sail those ships, not to mention they were docked at a port leased to the region, so safety was probably not an issue.

Just like that, six ironclad warships had vanished. The military inquisitors later managed to find an eyewitness --an old pamigar sailor-- who got up at night to prepare bait for an early morning fishing trip. He mentioned seeing the six ships move slowly across the waters without making a single sound. They probably had their engines off.

The pamigar sailor didn't give it much heed and thought they were undergoing nighttime training. The moon was rather bright back then and he saw many figures moving about the six ships. As a result, he didn't suspect anything was going on. The notion that the ships were leaving the port didn't even occur to him.

The investigators were more troubled the deeper they dug. There was no way the ships would disappear out of nowhere like that. The only ones who could sail the ships were the region's naval officers, not the pamigar. Yet, the naval officers didn't do it, so who did? The Aueran royal navy probably could sail them, but would they actually dare to come all the way to Nubissia to do something like that?

The missing ironclad ships thus became one of the ten biggest mysteries yet to be cracked. later during the 3rd month, Blacksail encountered the Fochsian navy once more at Nubari Islands and refused their demands to anchor down and receive an inspection. A battle soon broke out between the two forces.

All of a sudden, the sail ships of Blacksail's fleet moved aside to reveal twelve ironclad warships in their midst sailing straight towards the Fochsian navy's sail ships. They rammed at them as they opened fire. The Fochsian fleet was glad to have finally found the crooks behind the attack on Wades Mountains, but despaired at the sight of those twelve ironclad warships.

The battle there caused the Fochsian fleet to lose nearly half of all their sail ships. Blacksail also suffered quite a lot of damage, with their twelve ironclad warships rather heavily damaged. They also lost nearly twenty of their forty plus sail ships.

However, the Fochsian fleet of 108 sail ships had no choice but to retreat after losing half that number, giving that victory to Blacksail. Eriksson, their leader, had been crowned as the king of pirates by the other pirate bands. He even self-proclaimed himself to be the Duke of Nubari.

Duke Nubari was a title of renown among the pirate haven of Nubari Islands used only by the leader of the greatest pirate force. It was even said that the duke's triangular flag was a regalia that could be used to compel other pirates to do his bidding. Though, the duke was more or less a folklore in Nubari Islands. No pirate would really follow the whims of another pirate band just like that.

Eriksson himself didn't let it get to his head. While he did successfully defeat a proper Fochsian fleet, he had also revealed Blacksail to be the culprit behind the attack on Port Wades and the theft of the six ironclad warships. Remaining in Nubari Islands was akin to waiting for his enemy to come settle the bill with him.

So, Blacksail left the islands on a night when the moon didn't shine, unbeknownst to the other pirate bands there. Only after Fochs sent another strong fleet to Nubari Islands did they realise that Blacksail had vanished.

Fochs sent an ambassador to Lanu to meet with Claude and Birkin to report their lost battle against the pirates. That was how the region found out about the truth behind their vanishing ironclad warships. They also managed to confirm that Blacksail now had the technology to modify and maintain their own ironclad warships.

It was all Fochs' fault for leaving their port open to attack, causing all the ironclad warship designs, the six ship shells and more than ten experts and rune magi to fall into pirate hands. The fact that they were able to steal the six ironclad warships from the region without making a sound was proof that they were on the same skill level as the region when it came to operating those ships.

The Battle of Nubari Islands once more showed the world that ironclad warships were the future of naval warfare. Even a Fochsian fleet of 108 sail ships weren't able to rival a mere fleet of 40 ships plus twelve ironclad warships of Blacksail.

Nobody expected that the Fochsian fleet would be the first to retreat after losing half their number. At least, retreating allowed them to retain half their naval might. Even if they continued to fight to deal Blacksail an even more debilitating blow, they would've probably lost nearly all their sail ships.

The Blacksail only lost 18 sail ships while their twelve ironclad warships could still fight despite heavy damage. Other things aside, those ships alone managed to sink more than 40 Fochsian ships. The Fochsian navy definitely had no way to handle the ironclad warships, hence their forced retreat.

Currently, Blacksail was nowhere to be found. However, the day of their return would see them reign supreme over the other pirate bands using their ironclad warships. Fochs hoped that the region could send their own Ironclad fleet out to deal with Blacksail, only to be refused.

Claude apologetically told the ambassador that if they met Blacksail at sea, Ironclad wouldn't mind taking them out and wouldn't let a single one of those ironclad warships escape. However, sending Ironclad out to look for Blacksail was out of the question. The region couldn't be bothered with playing hide-and-seek with pirates.

Ironclad's main task was to defend the waters between the autonomous region and the Aueran coast, including Northbay on the Great Plains of Canas as well as the two ports the region leased. While Ironclad did have patrol flotillas, they were tasked with defence, not attack.

While Ironclad was powerful, maintaining them cost a huge amount. Currently, the region had a fleet of sixty ironclad warships, which was the maximum the region could maintain. They couldn't afford to keep more in working order. Even knowing that Blacksail was the culprit behind the theft of their six ships, the region wouldn't bother wasting time and effort to look for trouble with them.

The deployment map of the region's 60 ships clearly showed that the waters of the region required two flotillas of six ironclad warships each to patrol and secure. Northbay also required two flotillas working in shifts to defend. The two leased ports, on the other hand, required one six-ship flotilla each.

All in all, 36 of the region's ships were occupied with security duties. The remaining 24 served as the escort of the 300-ship transport fleet of the region to ensure safe trading between the two continents.

The Fochsian ambassador agreed that the region couldn't afford to send more ships to fish out Blacksail. So, he proposed that the region help Fochs construct a fleet of ironclad warships. Claude didn't mind taking their order and offered each ship for the price of 300 thousand crowns.

The ambassador was shocked by the astronomically high price. Claude explained that he was offering to sell second-generation ironclad warships instead of the first. The first only cost half the price to build but were far inferior. They were considered obsolete and the region's shipyards no longer took orders for their construction.

The ambassador returned doubtfully with the specifications of the second-generation patrollers and destroyers. He wasn't able to make a decision on that magnitude himself and had to get in touch with the higher ups in the kingdom. It seemed that it would take some time to know whether they would accept buying the ships from the region.

The sale of the second-generation warships was part of the region's plan to revitalise Vebator's economy. The region had three deep-water ports. Port Cobius in Tyrrsim was the main transportation hub between the region and the kingdom and was far too busy. Port Patres in Robisto was also quite busy with the naval base and shipyards located there. Only Port Vebator seemed to develop rather slowly.

That was in part due to the railroad expansion of the region. The railroad company was researching how to make a bridge across Dorinibla River to connect the railroads on both banks so that passengers wouldn't have to disembark and cross the river to the other station. They were also trying to set up railroads across Loki Mountains to extract more mineable resources from that state. The huge developmental focus on railroads caused the popularity of ferry transportation to fall in favour of trains, causing Port Vebator to cool down.

The region's council hoped that it could be developed into a heavy industrial area so that the states near it could also have their economies stimulated. It also helped that Loki Mountains was close to Vebator, which made it convenient for resource transportation. When they considered how to stimulate that area's economy, they set their sights on the first and second-generation ironclad warships. Some council members also built a few shipyards in Port Vebator in preparation for the production of the old ironclad warships for sale.

Claude wasn't against the council members selling the older warships, but they had to have customers first. If possible, he would like to fund the construction of the fourth-generation ironclad warships with those sales. The other officers in the military administration couldn't bring themselves to refuse such a profitable venture either. The only issue was how they would find a rich fool willing to part with that kind of money.

Currently, the twelve ironclad warships of Blacksail were docked in a nondescript shipyard at Port Vebator for maintenance. Borkal was the one who set up that pipeline with Eriksson. Apart from that, the shipyards there also got a huge work contract from Eriksson to cover 16 three-masted speedy sail warships with a thick coat of copper armour and fitting them with first-generation steam engines.

Chapter 590 - Dawn of the Age of the Ironclad

Nobody expected Port Vebator's first commission would come from Carmenleon instead. Claude recalled that they were one of the nations that purchased one ironclad ship from the Aueran royal navy. Apparently, they had also run into fabrication problems from not having heat-resistant alloy and propeller technology. Even after obtaining the designs of the first-generation ships, they weren't able to recreate them.

Carmenleon's ambassador had come as a travelling merchant to order six ironclad warships, namely, one destroyer, four patrollers and one transporter. They were just enough to form a patrol-and-combat flotilla. The six ships cost 900 thousand crowns in total and would be finished half a year later. However, it seemed that the ambassador didn't want word of it to get out. Naturally, the region was happy to oblige and get rich in secret.

Borkal believed that Carmenleon's ambassador probably faced the same problem the Aueran royal navy did: they were instructed to forge the ships by the royal family but failed to do so and had no choice but to buy them off the region directly. Fortunately, the new shipyards at Port Vebator managed to fill that demand.

Claude was willing to let the shipyards produce first and second-generation ironclad warships for sale because he wanted to boost the other nations' research speed. They were already able to forge similar armoured shells for their ships with alternative alloys. The only difficulty was the making of steam engines and propellers, but even that could be solved with time and investment. One day, some nation would crack the secrets to making them.

The sale of those ships, on the other hand, was positioned perfectly to disrupt those nations that stubbornly wanted to make their own engines. To them, buying the ships would be far better than making their own. The kind of money they had invested would've been enough to make 20 direct purchases from the region to form their own fleet and immediately heighten the defences of their coasts.

Even if they were insistent on continuing research into ironclad warships, they still required some at hand to defend their coasts. Perhaps, they would have to spend two to three times the price of one ironclad warship to make a shabby copy that couldn't even compete with the ones the region put up for sale.

Not to mention, there was no saying how much more they would have to invest to finally achieve results. Claude hoped that the majority of nations would switch from researching the technology to purchasing them directly from the region. As long as they were willing to pay, the region wouldn't discriminate. Even if the region was about to face their patrons in war, they guaranteed they would hand the ships over if they were already paid for.

Selling the first-generation warships would bring vast amounts of wealth to the region. Even Liboyd felt embarrassed at selling them for those prices when he looked at the simple designs of the obsolete ships. So, he modified the first-generation engines to improve their fuel efficiency slightly to make the ships last longer and sail faster.

The region was selling first-generation ironclad destroyers for 150 thousand crowns, but the shipyards would only get paid 50 thousand. That made the region a profit of 100 thousand crowns easily. Even then, the actual cost to build the ship was 20 thousand crowns. The shipyards still doubled their profit.

The destroyers were merely covered in a water-tight metal shell and their most sophisticated parts were the steam engines and propellers. Additionally, there were bronze pipes used for communication on board and cannons on deck. They could also add a ram at the front if they wanted.

The amount the region spent to research them was about a million crowns. While it seemed like a loss for the region to sell them at those prices, it was a great deal for the other nations trying to acquire their own ironclad warships.

After the precedent set by Carmenleon's purchase, other nations soon came knocking. The region's old first-generation warships, however, ran out. The six Carmenleon ordered had to be completely built from scratch.

Claude felt that it was a shame that the Fochsian ambassador hadn't replied yet after he offered to sell them second-generation warships. If they came back to order them, they would definitely be given priority over Carmenleon. The worst case would be refurbishing one of the current second-generation warships in service in Ironclad to be sold to Fochs. The money earned could then be used to build fourth-generation warships for Moriad.

The twelve first-generation ships of Blacksail had undergone an overhaul at Port Vebator. Another 16 speedy sail warships had also been covered in metal armour and fitted with steam engines and propellers. Eriksson then left during a foggy night and disappeared into the seas.

Claude currently busied himself with the reserve troops and recruits. It was the biggest change in the region's military to date. Aueras had always had standing corps and irregular corps that were recruited during wartime. Their main corps included the royal guard corps, Reddragon and Griffon. Soldiers were discharged after serving 15 years as dignitarians. If they chose to remain in service, they were given a much better salary, a good motivation to keep them in service.

Wartime recruits were, as their name suggested, implemented only during wartime. Local prefectures conscripted people of fitting age to form irregular corps to send to reinforce the core troops. Most of these conscripted recruits had bad luck and were killed as cannon fodder. Even if they won, there was nothing to be happy about. After being discharged, they would go back to their normal lives. Military service wouldn't change their fates at all. Only a few lucky ones were transferred to the standing corps and became official servicemen.

The region now had four standing corps, a navy and twelve local garrison lines, totalling up to nearly 550 thousand troops. The majority of troops were in the standing corps, so funding them put a huge burden on the region. The bonuses and salaries the troops enjoyed already overshot budget, leaving little left for the research and improvement of gear and tactics.

Claude was planning to fuse the systems of compulsory national service and voluntary service together into a new system of regulars and reserves. Not all regulars were willing to serve for 15 years in the force. Some of them were uninterested in dignitarian status and would be more willing to spend more time with their family. The requirement for troops to serve 15 years was to make sure the nations had enough experienced soldiers to defend them in the first place.

In the region, an adult of 18 years of age was the perfect candidate for recruitment. However, they had to train for five years to become a qualified soldier. If they earned promotions during wartime, they would have a bright military career.

However, if there wasn't a war after the five-year training, they would have two choices. They could either remain in the force as a master-sergeant and enjoy the benefits of their rank and be discharged after serving a full 15 years to be trained into a local official.

The other option was for them to return home if they didn't want to continue serving. They could marry and start a business without being disturbed, as they already had a record of serving for five years. If that soldier wanted dignitarian status before turning 40, they could apply to continue serving in a local defence force until the 15 year term was up.

That was a huge change to many within that age range. Any adult 18 and above could start a military career and reforge themselves. Even if they chose to stop serving, they were already primed for good discipline and could become reserve troops in preparation for wartime conscription.

Claude's revamp of the system broke the tradition of most men having to serve at least 15 years. From then on, there would no longer be any soldier that couldn't master what they ought to and be forced to remain in the force. The shorter compulsory service term brought much needed vitality to the forces.

The greatest benefit of the reformation was the decreased amount of salary the region had to pay out. Birkin mentioned that back then, as long as one joined the force, they would find a lifetime career. As long as they didn't die young on the battlefield, they could take a stable salary until they were discharged. That was the case as well with Claude when he joined Bluefeather. Almost right away, he already got to enjoy the good salary and all the other benefits.

However, joining Bluefeather right before the first great war was filled with risk. Claude managed to luck out and avoid the fate of dying on the battlefield before being transferred by the first prince to the experimental ranger tribe, kicking off his career for good. There were few who had the kind of luck Claude did, as Birkin had put it.

However, after the reform, even lucky fellows like Claude would no longer rise to the top. Claude had sadistically cut the huge salary the troops got during compulsory service, giving only a bit of allowance. They were only serving for five years doing their obligation, not work, so what would they need a salary for when the force had their basic necessities covered?

To get a good salary, one would have to serve the compulsory term and master key skills before they would be retained as master-sergeants and given a good salary. The salary also grew with the time one served or with battlefield achievements.

However, Borkal frankly told Claude that what he basically did was cutting five years of salary from the original 15, with the first five years of compulsory service being a form of filter for those who merely wanted to slack off in the force. Only an idiot would stay in the force with five years of salary missing. Those more capable would've gone off to do business or something to earn much more.

Year 607 was a rather calm time for the region. Apart from the alliance formed with the pamigar republic, the rest of the region's efforts were turned to internal management, mainly the purge. Then came the settling of the Shiksan immigrants, downsizing of the homecoming Shiksan folks and the formation of the Shiksan Voluntary Corps.

During the latter half of the year, the region was kept busy with military reform and changed the compulsory service term to five years. In the middle of the 10th month, word came from the western coast once more about Blacksail engaging the Fochsian navy.

This time around, Blacksail took the initiative to fight Fochs. They attacked the ships docked at the second Fochsian colony, managing to crush the fleet there and occupy the port before leaving after three days of raiding.

Fochs really got gobsmacked this time around. Despite their reputation as a mighty naval power, they no longer posed any threat. All they had remaining were two seemingly strong fleets of sail ships. However, it became obvious to anyone concerned that the curtains were closing on the age of sail. The pirates came with twelve ironclad warships as the vanguard and another 16 metal-armoured, steam-powered sail ships trailing behind to crush the tight defensive formation of the Fochsian fleet and scattering their ships.

The results of the battle caused Carmenleon to ignore the threat of Fochs locking them down at sea and immediately sent their troops to conquer the last remaining Lesnian colony, kicking them out of Nubissia for good.

Reliaro, the other nation that had a colony neighbouring Lesnia's, was half a step slower. As they cursed Carmenleon for taking the dive before them, they didn't hesitate to take over Fochs' second colony.

The defensive troops of the Fochsian colony had a huge bad luck streak. They suffered a pirate attack at the port right after their nation's navy lost. The pirate raids took most of their wealth, and some of their wives and daughters. Yet, before they were even able to assess their losses, another conqueror came from a neighbouring colony, causing them to lose it all.

Angered beyond belief, Fochs immediately declared a blockade against Carmenleon and Reliaro. They vented the rage they had for the pirates on those nations instead. Fortunately, Fochs knew that its army was pathetic and didn't embarrass itself by bringing it out. Instead, they would seal off their ocean routes completely to sink or capture all ships coming from their nations or colonies.

Carmenleon and Reliaro declared the formation of a naval alliance to break the Fochsian blockade. By then, the six ironclad warships Carmenleon had ordered was complete.

The moment the six ironclad warships showed up between the allied navy's ships, the Fochsian fleet suddenly stopped its charge and maintained a perimeter without daring to approach. The blockade was undone just like that.

The region then received an order of 24 first-generation ironclad warships from Carmenleon and Reliaro, which had to be fulfilled in a year. Right after the region sent off the two nations' ambassadors after receiving their payment, the Fochsian ambassador came.

"We want to purchase 48 ironclad warships," the ambassador said.

Chapter 591 - The Western Coast of Rapid Change

"I'm really sorry, Lord Militant, we didn't manage to strike a deal with the Fochsian ambassador," the Head of Arms, Mantweit Mar Penakro, said. He stood before Claude with Head of Military Affairs, Kandwok Sei Boklut, to report the bad news.

Kandwok added, "We tried to offer the second-generation warships for sale, but he refused. Even when we said he could get the second-generation ships one year earlier, he insisted on buying all first-generation ships."

"An attendant officer of his told us of a piece of bad news. He came with exactly enough funds to buy 48 ironclad warships and doesn't have extra to buy a few second-generation ones for comparison.

"The most crucial factor is that our ships don't come installed with cannons. The ambassador thought that the cannons he would have to install himself wouldn't do much against other ironclad warships anyway and decided it didn't matter which generation he got."

Mantweit had managed to get some internal information from the ambassador's escort. Even the cannons researched by the region themselves wouldn't be able to sink an ironclad warship in ten or so blasts.

Only the ones on the third-generation warships that used armour-piercing rounds posed a threat to the first two generations of warships. Additionally, Port Vebator wasn't fit for constructing cannons in the first place, so finished orders would be sent to the customers cannonless.

The standard bronze cannons they used weren't able to pose much of a threat to the ironclad warships. It was no wonder the Fochsian ambassador insisted on the old ones. When his victory was not guaranteed by buying the second, which he bought wouldn't give him any edge anyway. Even faster speed, agility and defence wasn't worth double the asking price of the first.

"So, he insisted on buying first-generation warships. Yet, Port Vebator's shipyards already have more orders they can fulfill. No more orders can be made within a year, right?" Claude looked up and said, "I thought they were expanding the shipyard there for ship maintenance."

Kandwok said, "There was a plan to make four more plants and eight more shipyards there, but but that will only be completed during the 4th month of next year. Installing all sorts of machinery would take time too. It would already be quite decent if we can use them starting mid next year.

"The Fochsian order is really huge. It would be a shame to not take it. Yet, they stubbornly insisted on the older ships. Perhaps we can refurbish our current second-generation ships and sell them away instead. That way, we only need to modify them at Port Patres.

"The problem now is that Port Vebator can't take any more work. Yet, the folks at Port Patres refuse to take orders for obsolete first-generation ships. They only offer to build newer ships. The soonest we can take the Fochsian order is the middle of next year.

"That's why we were unable to strike a deal. The ambassador demanded that we immediately start constructing twelve first-generation warships to be handed over half a year later so that they would at least have some. But it simply isn't doable. We can't exactly delay Carmenleon and Reliaro's orders for them."

"Well then, let's just refuse the order. We don't need to compromise for their demand of 48 first-generation warships." Claude stood up, headed to the map of the western coast on the wall and shook his head with a smile.

"I really can't predict what Fochs will do from now on," Claude said as he pointed at Fochs' two remaining colonies. "Without ironclad warships, they will most likely be unable to maintain their hold on the colonies. By the time Carmenleon and Reliaro's orders are fulfilled, Fochs would have to worry about being sealed off on their islands. They wouldn't be able to retake their colonies at all.

"Perhaps, they might still be able to hold on to Wades Mountains. That's the northernmost colony on Nubissia and further north is the desolate mountains and wilderness. They have a rather good relationship with the Duchy of Fedro, that has a colony neighbouring Fochs'. If the duchy doesn't interfere, they might yet be able to keep the colony. But Wades Mountains is rich with mineral resources and boasts a good deep-water port. The other nations will definitely be vying for it.

"Apart from Wades Mountains, Fochs only has the colony of Lupsal left, which neighbours Opsaro's colony. At least they're lucky that it's sandwiched between Opsaro and Fedro, unlike their other colony that was immediately conquered by Reliaro's troops. However, Lupsal is at risk of being absorbed by Opsaro's colony, probably after Fochs loses after naval battle."

Fochs originally had four colonies on Nubissia. The smallest one, Cape Loducus, had already been 'gifted' to the region. The remaining three are located at the north, centre and south of the western coast respectively. The northernmost one is Wades Mountains, which Fochs intended to develop into a military base and production plant of ironclad warships.

Their colony in the centre was mostly flatlands. It was a food-production hub. But it had been conquered by Reliaro's troops. Their colony in the south, on the other hand, neighboured Wasilisk and Opsaro's colonies.

Wasilisk's forces were already half dead, but Opsaro was pretty lucky. Right in front of them was the colony Wasilisk had basically abandoned, and behind them was Fochs' colony of Lupsal. If Opsaro absorbed both of them, it would be able to triple its territory. However, it hadn't made any moves so far out of respect for Fochs' naval strength.

Having not made the order for ironclad warships, Fochs' ambassador turned to buying 60 first-generation steam engines and propellers instead worth three million crowns in total at a price of 50 thousand per set. After the region's military administration gave their permission, the deal was sealed. They would finish the order in three months.

Naval Intelligence believed that the purchase was just a ruse and Fochs merely wanted to try to reverse engineer the technology. It could mean that they've begun their own research or they were trying to mimic the pirates by fitting armoured ships with engines.

A month later, Fochs sent a flotilla with six ships transporting 20 steam engines to their waters near Southern Freia. However, they didn't expect they would be ambushed some 150 kilometres away by the united fleet of Carmenleon and Reliaro.

Carmenleon had sent two patrol units of twelve patrol ships out. Apart from two of them that were transporting coal, the other ten launched the attack. Reliaro, however, hadn't received the ships they ordered yet and could only send out twelve three-masted speeder warships.

Fochs' side, however, had 18 class-three sail warships armed with 48 cannons on both sides combined, six armoured transport ships and four three-masted speeder patrol ships. In all, they had 28 ships facing off against ten ironclad warships and twelve sail ships.

In the end, Fochs lost the battle once again. Had it not been for reinforcements from their flotilla, all 28 of their ships might've been sunk. That was despite the fact that Fochs appeared to have firepower superiority.

Carmenleon's ships had avoided direct confrontation and used their superior engines to stay on the tails of the Fochsian ships, firing napalm shots to destroy the rear hull of the ship and rendering their firepower useless. In other words, they were reduced to moving targets.

Only three of the twenty ships and propellers they initially had remained, with only one of those transport ships surviving the engagement. The remaining five sunk with the 17 engines and propellers. Having suffered that huge loss, Fochs sent an ambassador to the region immediately to make a purchase of twelve second-generation ironclad warships to be delivered half a year later.

The second-generation ships were double the price of first-generation ones. The total price of twelve ships amounted to 3.6 million crowns. Moriad smiled sinisterly as he took twelve second-generation ships out of his fleet to be refurbished. as he made the order for twelve fourth-generation warships himself.

When word of Carmenleon and Reliaro's navy successfully ambushing the Fochsian flotilla got to the western coast, Opsaro finally decided to target Port Lupsal. It sent a corps of troops to occupy the colony and arranged for three ships to send the Fochsian officials and citizens out of the border.

As for Wades Mountains, that was the only remaining colony of Fochs. To protect the colony, Fochs sent an ambassador to Fedro, with whom they were on good terms, to request them to send troops to defend the colony. However, Fedro hesitated for quite a while before sending their troops to check on the colony, only to find that it had been conquered by Blacksail without anyone knowing.

Wades Mountains was simply too far north. Even Fedro's colony that neighboured it was at least 50 kilometres away. Had it not been for the fact it had a good deep-water port and mineral resources, Fochs might've given up on that colony long ago. Thankfully, the resources there helped make up for the lack on the mainland.

In the past century, Wades Mountains had always been the largest source mineral resource for Fochs. They had two systems of management in that colony, namely a slave system at the mines and a settler system at the port. They built a town there, made somebody viceroy and moved over many settlers.

Despite all its benefits, the Fochsian settlers didn't like how rural it was. There were only three towns built across the past century near the port and their total population numbered fewer than 50 thousand.

It was until Fochs decided to develop it into shipyards that large numbers of settlers got moved there to work on the research and development. Thanks to the presence of their four naval fleets, the settlers would never dare imagine being raided by pirates.

Later, Wades Mountains came under the attack of a few pirate bands. One whole Fochsian fleet was either stolen or burned down. Fochs lost one of their four powerful fleets just like that.

After that, they ransacked the remaining facilities and storehouses for all the machinery and military arms as well as the six ironclad shells. Even the Fochsian engineers and rune magi fell into the hands of Blacksail, who returned with full loot.

What followed was the incessant search of the three Fochsian fleets for their aggressors. They finally found the culprits when one of their fleets encountered Blacksail near Nubari Islands.

Soon, Blacksail launched another attack on the most prosperous colony of Fochs on the western coast and wiped out another of their fleets. Raiding commenced and the world was properly reminded of the superiority of ironclad warships.

By then, not only did Carmenleon and Reliaro help Fochs against the pirates, they even kicked it while it was down. One Lesnian colony and another central Fochsian colony were conquered, forcing Fochs to turn their attention away from the pirates to deal with those two enemy nations.

That caused them to forget about Wades Mountains entirely, only to recall they had it after Port Lupsal was conquered. But by then, the colony had already fallen into pirate hands.

Chapter 592 - Intervention

Fochs had really gone insane. Half a year back, they owned the most colonies on Nubissia. Yet, they lost all their colonies in a short few months. The worst part of all was that those three colonies weren't lost to the enemy they had been so wary against, the region, but rather and what they considered their allies and pirates.

The allies Fochs had counted on stabbed them in the back twice, with the central colony and Lupsal being conquered by Reliaro and Opsaro respectively. That was the most shocking part for Fochs. The two colonies, having been managed by Fochs for so many years, had many settlers and riches. They were among the most reliable sources of income for Fochs on both continents.

Wades Mountains being taken by pirates was yet another piece of bad news, but it couldn't really be helped. It was far too rural and served only as a hub for mineral resources, so there weren't many settlers there. Apart from ore ships and slave owners, few others sailed there to trade.

The colony only managed to get some development before Fochs wanted to have their own shipyards and refineries there. However, all that was ruined by Blacksail. After that colony was raided by Blacksail, Fochs no longer paid too much attention to it, only for it to be conquered later.

Having lost all their colonies, Fochs reacted desperately. Within the span of three months, they sent three different ambassadors to the region. The first came with enough money to make an order for twelve second-generation warships to be delivered half a year later. The second came to discuss having their officers schooled and trained on operating those ships. They paid 100 thousand crowns for the region to agree to let them use Cape Loducus as a training base.

The third ambassador came to purchase cannons to be fitted onto those ships. However, the region no longer produced the old muzzle-loading cannons. Fortunately, Moriad recalled that their old sail fleet managed to capture some ten smuggling ships with those cannons. So, he had them be used to fulfil the ambassador's request.

Half a year later, the twelve ironclad warships were gathered at Cape Loducus. The naval officers were also fully trained. They confidently departed with their coal-filled ships to retake their lost colonies.

However, Claude didn't think Fochs would be able to do much. Their situation was far too stacked against them. It was no longer a time when having a strong navy allowed one to dominate. With their navy alone, Fochs wouldn't be able to reclaim their lost colonies. Even if they could, they wouldn't be able to keep them.

As expected, Fochs' first target was the colony of Lupsal which Opsaro took. However, Opsaro didn't have a strong navy at all and had no intention to fight a naval battle with Fochs. Instead, they seemed rather regretful and took the initiative to avoid conflict with Fochs' ironclad fleet. They moved their citizens living within 15 kilometres of the coast inland in a self-imposed blockade of sorts, allowing Fochs to do whatever they want at the coast.

Though, there was nothing to be gained from doing so. The empty coastal towns had nothing. Fochs' only option was to send ground forces inland, but that was their greatest weakness. It would be suicide for their naval troops to leave their ships. So, they lingered for some three days before feeling the pointlessness of it all and left, this time, for the central colony conquered by Reliaro. There were more than 100 thousand Fochsian settlers there, so they should be able to get help in reclaiming that colony.

However, Reliaro fortified their coastal defences with cannons and used them to fight the Fochsian fleet alongside their first-generation warships. They employed a hit-and-run style of harassment attacks. In two to three days, the Fochsian navy took the initiative to leave. If they stayed any longer, they would've run out of ammunition and would have their ships captured.

The fleet only had enough resources to make a trip to Wades Mountains. As long as they could reclaim that colony, they would be able to resupply their ammunition. The Fochsian naval officers had never wished so badly to have a naval base on Nubissia before. They believed the pirates of Blacksail should probably not be a match for their ironclad fleet. Usually, pirates would flee at the sight of the proper navy.

Yet, Blacksail now considered Wades Mountains to be their territory and installed cannons around the port as well as waterways in and out to sea. They seemed to be willing to face off the Fochsian fleet to the death. However, the Fochsian troops were already worn out from their string of failures and weren't nearly as dedicated as Blacksail.

Blacksail sent their ships out and fired their cannons, leaving bumps and dents across the Fochsian ships. One of the pirate ships sailed close within 20 metres of one of the Fochsian second-generation ships and fired rapidly. A few other pirates dropped a shark-shaped metal object into the water facing the second-generation warship and lit the fuse from above.

Once the fuse was lit, black smoke wafted out of its back and it started moving in the water towards the Fochsian ship at a mediocre speed. However, the Fochsian sailors didn't know what that was and thought it was some kind of sea creature. They watched as the object rammed into the hull of their ship.

A large explosion could be heard, accompanied by a water-show ten metres in height. The warship looked as if it had suffered a sharp ram and tilted heavily to one side. The crew at the bottom of the ship crawled up and reported that the explosion caused a huge breach in the hull which caused water to seep in. The steam engine had been submerged and the ship was done with, so they might as well abandon ship to save their lives.

Four such explosions rang out, ridding Fochs of three of their second-generation ironclad warships. There was one that was quite lucky that had its breach sealed up in time and managed to leave the battle. The nine remaining ships finally managed to reach Fedro's colony right before their supplies ran out for maintenance and rest.

Fedro's colony didn't produce and blackstone coal, so Fochs had no choice but to purchase large amounts of charcoal as fuel. They brought their nine damaged ships back to the Vebator for repairs and bought a large number of steam engines and propellers before returning to Fochs. In the coming decades, Fochs' fleets would no longer sighted near the western coast.

Before Claude was the design blueprints of the shark-shaped weapons the pirates used. What he didn't expect was that they were named mobile aquamines.

Who in the world named them? They have a poorer naming sense than even me! He changed their names to shark mines instead, since they looked similar to sharks.[1] It was said that one of Eriksson's rune magi played a part in their creation. That fellow had originally wanted to create normal water mines that were deployed and left there, but he wasn't able to come up with a timing mechanism for the explosive fuse. So, he made them explode on impact instead, creating a torpedo-like weapon at the end of the day.

The torpedo's construction was rather simple. It had a shark-shaped silhouette with balancing fins to help maintain trajectory in water. At the tip of the weapon was an impact fuse and at its tail was a small propeller and coiled spring. Upon deploying it in water, it would propel the whole projectile forwards, though its distance was a short 20-odd metres and it didn't travel fast. It moved at the speed of a person walking on land. Warships could easily avoid them if they detected them quickly.

If an evasive manoeuvre wasn't made, the torpedo would explode upon impact, creating highly pressurised jets of water that could breach even the armoured hulls of warships and cause a leak. However, they posed no threat to the region's third and fourth-generation ironclad warships, which had separate ballasts near the hull. Leaks in those areas weren't particularly threatening.

Those shark mines Blacksail developed could perhaps be considered a primitive torpedo. Claude ensured that they would focus development efforts and funding on better versions until they were fit for practical use. His requirements were simple: the shark mines had to be able to be shot by the warships themselves up to a distance of a thousand metres at a speed twice that of ironclad warships. That would ensure the ship attacked would be sunk for good and thus make it useful in actual battles.

Apart from the delightful surprise of the primitive torpedos, Blacksail brought Claude another piece of news he wasn't that interested in: the Fochsian ironclad fleet sailed north. There was no way they would be able to reclaim all their colonies without a proper ground force, especially when their enemies also had ironclad warships. They couldn't even enforce proper blockades with their new ships. There was also the fact that they didn't have a base at which they could resupply on Nubissia.

He went back to dealing with other matters of the military administration. Shiksan Voluntary and Thundercrash had been reorganised and were ready for deployment. Soon, they would be deployed along with one pamigar standing corps to Wasilisk's neighbouring colony where the jisdor and skro were fighting an ethnic war on a humanitarian military mission to stop the senseless war and restore order to the colony.

The two groups had been fighting one another for up to four years. Initially, their total population numbered around five million, but now, less than two million were left. It was said that another million among the old and unfit fled to Opsaro's colony as refugees.

Currently, the two groups were holed up in their respective mountain strongholds for self-preservation. It was as if they started to live like cavemen once more and upheld a reclusive, isolationist attitude, refusing all contact with outsiders. If they didn't have enough supplies, they would go out to raid and rob. That was part of the reason why Wasilisk's troops had to give up on retaking their colony. Their local defence forces were far from a match for these savage natives and suffered many casualties in confrontations with them.

As the region and the pamigar republic sent their troops into the colony, they destroyed the skro and jisdor's wooden strongholds one after another before evicting the different groups of natives to the east and west respectively.

Within three months, Wasilisk was swept through and all the natives were isolated in the two separate strongholds. However, the region's two corps continued their advance and soon reached the borders of Opsaro's colony. Opsaro hurriedly sent their troops to block their path and sent the region an ambassador to negotiate the issue of border violation.

However, Birkin didn't think it was even an issue at all. He demanded Opsaro's forces to move aside to work with the region to solve the matter of the fighting native groups.

As the region's troops swept through the colony, they found many leads that suggested Opsaro was the mastermind behind this ethnic strife, which resulted in this inhuman tragedy that saw the deaths of more than two million natives.

Opsaro's ambassador naturally denied the claim. He countered by saying the region was merely trying to use that as a pretence to violate Opsaro's colony. Birkin merely laughed and said there was nothing they could do even if that was the case while reminding him he had proof to show that they were the masterminds behind the war which the region could use to turn the natives against them. For the sake of peace, Opsaro had better surrender obediently.

Naturally, that was nigh impossible. Opsaro's troops immediately started building defence lines at the border, but their efforts were completely thwarted by Thundercrash and Shiksan Voluntary. All three of Opsaro's corps were wiped out. Most troops raised the white flag the moment an attack began.

After that, Thundercrash occupied Lupsal, which Fochs lost to Opsaro. All of a sudden, they had another two corps of Opsaroan local garrison soldiers under their wing.

The natives in Opsaro's colony were jisdor or skro to begin with. They were no different from their brethren in Wasilisk's colony. After the ethnic conflict began in Wasilisk's colony, Opsaro immediately sealed the borders of the two colonies and put their own natives under high guard and oppression to stop them from tearing each other apart from the hatred.

The region was, of course, aware of the baseless allegation, but that didn't stop them from blaming Opsaro. They were the ones who didn't want to surrender, to begin with.

After the region conquered the colony, they implemented a huge migration plan to move the skro to Wasilisk's colony and the jisdor to Opsaro's colony. That way, each group could have a colony to themselves. The two colonies were separated by a 300-metre-tall wall at their borders. Apart from a few checkpoints, anyone that showed up near the border wall would be shot at by the guards on the other side.

That was how the skro and jisdor republics came into existence. The two nations continued to see one another as enemies even after their founding. As for Lupsal, that colony was given to the local lanstobuk natives. That was how the Lupsal Federation of Liberty was founded. The region then leased Port Lupsal from the lanstobuk to use as its second naval base for 99 years.

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Hi, Guys.

So it's that time again. As many of you know, the author of BIG has gone on another leave of absence. He's been gone for some time now. Back in late March after he was hospitalised for a month or two, he wrote an update, saying that he was still recovering, but would eventually wrap the story up in due time. We believe it's safe to say the project is on an extended hiatus, but definitely not cancelled or dropped.

That said, as of yesterday, we have caught up with him, and thus have nothing new to post as far as BIG is concerned. We have, however, been working on another project behind the scenes to post so you guys will still have plenty of reading. And we will continue to work on it as long as you guys continue to support us. If, and when, BIG starts going again, we will come back to it and continue our work.

We will release new chapters for the new project on a slip-scale based on the amount of support we can garner for the new project, up to about a one-chapter-a-day release rate, though that's not final just as of yet. The new chapters will fill in from the top tiers and filter down as BIG's chapters move out of circulation. The first chapter will come out for the top tier later today.

Thank you guys so much for coming along with us for this ride thus far, and we hope to have you guys for a long time yet to come.

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

Sincerely yours

Ryogawa and Prince

Heimarian Odyssey:

Locke (no, not that Locke) is a middling officer in the Kingdom of Faustian's army.  He happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, or the right place at the right time, depending on your perspective, and happens to save the kingdom's princess.  As fortune would have it, love prospers, but in a world of peasantry and nobility, a middling, peasant-born soldier has no right to love a princess.  Locke is nothing if not determined, however, and sets out to become someone worthy of loving the princess, someone her family can accept.  But that path is neither short, nor safe, as our hero will soon discover.

[1] In Chinese, torpedoes are literally called fish mines. However, the justification the author gave (that they looked like sharks) doesn't really come through in English. It doesn't help that sharks in Chinese are literally called 'shark fishes', so the nuance is once more lost. I've chosen the term 'shark mines' to maintain consistency with the justification for the name.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents
Description
Chapter 0 - Prologue
Chapter 1 - The Tricolor War
Chapter 2 - Family History
Chapter 3 - The Red-bricked Mansion
Chapter 4 - Habis and Morssen
Chapter 5 - Morssen's Ambition
Chapter 6 - Dawn
Chapter 7 - Tuition Fee
Chapter 8 - Academic and Physical Streams
Chapter 9 - Two Paths
Chapter 10 - History Lesson
Chapter 11 - Lake Island Egret
Chapter 12 - Mock's Goods
Chapter 13 - Cookbook
Chapter 14 - Obtained
Chapter 15 - Goal
Chapter 16 - Accident
Chapter 17 - Shocking Discovery
Chapter 18 - Big News
Chapter 19 - The Fathers' Plan
Chapter 20 - Decoding
Chapter 21 - Diary
Chapter 22 - The Truth
Chapter 23 - Scheme
Chapter 24 - Chilling Coincidence
Chapter 25 - Here Come the Girls
Chapter 26 - Father's Rebuke
Chapter 27 - The Drunk Arbeit
Chapter 28 - Sailing
Chapter 29 - Camping
Chapter 30 - Matchlock
Chapter 31 - Night Hunt
Chapter 32 - Night Duty
Chapter 33 - Ruins
Chapter 34 - Discovery
Chapter 35 - Dancing with a Python
Chapter 36 - The Perfect Excuse
Chapter 37 - Shaliun Gold Coins
Chapter 38 - Return Trip
Chapter 39 - Shocking the Town
Chapter 40 - Splitting the Spoils
Chapter 41 - Treating in the Tavern
Chapter 42 - Bookstore
Chapter 43 - Household Turmoil
Chapter 44 - Making Noodles
Chapter 45 - Disappointment and Gift
Chapter 46 - Choice for the Future
Chapter 47 - Father's Plans
Chapter 48 - Buying Bullets and Gunpowder
Chapter 49 - Flipper

Chapter 50 - Eriksson's Little Fishing Boat Dream

Chapter 51 - Shooting Practice
Chapter 52 - Target and Sight
Chapter 53 - Pointless Trivia
Chapter 54 - Three-dot Sight
Chapter 55 - A Disappointing Hunt
Chapter 56 - Hare Hunting
Chapter 57 - Chain Snare Catches
Chapter 58 - Secret Concoction
Chapter 59 - Lardor Snowhound
Chapter 60 - Claude the Confused
Chapter 61 - Magus Landes' Diary (1)
Chapter 62 - Magus Landes' Diary (2)
Chapter 63 - Magus Landes' Diary (3)
Chapter 64 - Surprise in the Diary
Chapter 65 - The Decision to Learn Magic
Chapter 66 - Claude on the Roof
Chapter 67 - Repercussions
Chapter 68 - Preparatory Work
Chapter 69 - Nighttime Cruise and Fishing Net
Chapter 70 - Night Fishing
Chapter 71 - Hunting Water Birds
Chapter 72 - Crocodile Struggle
Chapter 73 - Limping Home
Chapter 74 - At the Jetty
Chapter 75 - Father's Decision
Chapter 76 - Two Pieces of Bad News
Chapter 77 - The Second Diary
Chapter 78 - Basic Spells
Chapter 79 - Claude's Dilemma
Chapter 80 - Throughout the Year-end Vacation
Chapter 81 - Whale Meat and Tradition
Chapter 82 - New Year's Eve
Chapter 83 - Half a Cup of Milk Tea
Chapter 84 - Becoming a One-ring Rune Magus
Chapter 85 - Mental Shock and Animal Trials
Chapter 86 - The Lady's Spell
Chapter 87 - Lady Maria

Chapter 88 - I've been Learning Forbidden Spells?

Chapter 89 - Harmless Spells
Chapter 90 - Black Magic Market
Chapter 91 - Claude's Request
Chapter 92 - Hunting Wild Boars
Chapter 93 - Magic Tomes and Scrolls
Chapter 94 - Visit from an Honoured Guest
Chapter 95 - You should be a Chef
Chapter 96 - Difference
Chapter 97 - Wood Supervisor
Chapter 98 - The Small Hut
Chapter 99 - The Old Street at Night
Chapter 100 - Hurian the Fat Old Man
Chapter 101 - High Prices
Chapter 102 - Magic Crossbow
Chapter 103 - Confrontation on the Road
Chapter 104 - Taking Action
Chapter 105 - Weapons and Spells
Chapter 106 - Wrapped Up and Dealth With
Chapter 107 - Discussion
Chapter 108 - Excuse for Lateness
Chapter 109 - Two Spell Scrolls
Chapter 110 - Ambush and Pursuit
Chapter 111 - Spellbane Dagger
Chapter 112 - Impostor
Chapter 113 - Featherfall
Chapter 114 - Preparation Before Setup
Chapter 115 - Success!
Chapter 116 - Asking for Money
Chapter 117 - Familial Conflict
Chapter 118 - Going Out to Sea
Chapter 119 - Search
Chapter 120 - Discovery
Chapter 121 - Burning Coal
Chapter 122 - Time to Make Some Money
Chapter 123 - Graduation
Chapter 124 - Martial Law
Chapter 125 - Crime
Chapter 126 - Garrison
Chapter 127 - Mayor Robert's Plan
Chapter 128 - Tricked Veterans
Chapter 129 - Arbeit the Fraud
Chapter 130 - Arbeit's Whereabouts
Chapter 131 - Search
Chapter 132 - Den
Chapter 133 - Taking Action
Chapter 134 - Encounter
Chapter 135 - Bidlir Blanche
Chapter 136 - Lady Maria's Reply
Chapter 137 - Turmoil in Court
Chapter 138 - Two Matters
Chapter 139 - Arbeit's Intent
Chapter 140 - Filling Pockets
Chapter 141 - Wasted Trip
Chapter 142 - The Magus that Robs
Chapter 143 - Battle in the Yard
Chapter 144 - Robbery Complete
Chapter 145 - Jerad's Thoughts
Chapter 146 - Auction
Chapter 147 - Father-and-Son Talk
Chapter 148 - The Nightmare Comes
Chapter 149 - Modification and Rumours
Chapter 150 - In Debt
Chapter 151 - Despair
Chapter 152 - Turmoil
Chapter 153 - Act of Creditors
Chapter 154 - Guarantee
Chapter 155 - Move
Chapter 156 - Kefnie's Confession
Chapter 157 - Lady Maria's Gift
Chapter 158 - Property Development
Chapter 159 - Angelina's Secret
Chapter 160 - Angelina Wants to Learn Magic
Chapter 161 - Whitestag in the Fifth Month
Chapter 162 - Confusion and Change
Chapter 163 - Mayor Felidos

Chapter 164 - Doing Wrong with Good Intentions

Chapter 165 - Conscription Order
Chpater 166 - Have Some Whiskey
Chapter 167 - Explanation
Chapter 168 - Urgent Document
Chapter 169 - Execution
Chapter 170 - Detective
Chapter 171 - Suspicion
Chapter 172 - Dispelling Doubt
Chapter 173 - Repurcussions
Chapter 174 - Eve of Departure
Chapter 175 - En Route
Chapter 176 - Doghunt Tavern
Chapter 177 - City of Whitewood
Chapter 178 - Whiteroot Powder
Chapter 179 - Shocking Turn
Chapter 180 - Misunderstanding
Chapter 181 - City Lockdown
Chapter 182 - Blunder
Chapter 183 - Reporting for Duty
Chapter 184 - The Four of Noble Blood
Chapter 185 - Beatdown
Chapter 186 - Infirmary
Chapter 187 - The Whole Story
Chapter 188 - Punishment
Chapter 189 - Confinement
Chapter 190 - Training
Chapter 191 - Training Ongoing
Chapter 192 - Three Day Break
Chapter 193 - Surprising Tentsman Pick
Chapter 194 - Combat Training
Chapter 195 - The Final Counterattack
Chapter 196 - Causing Trouble
Chapter 197 - Settlement
Chapter 198 - Worry and Puzzlement
Chapter 199 - Wonderful News
Chapter 200 - Letters
Chapter 201 - New Recruits
Chapter 202 - Kink-necks
Chapter 203 - Marksmanship Training
Chapter 204 - Combat Simulation
Chapter 205 - Glory or Embarrassment
Chapter 206 - The Breakout of War
Chapter 207 - Arrival of the Prince
Chapter 208 - The Prince's Summons
Chapter 209 - Refusal
Chapter 210 - In the Heat of the Matter
Chapter 211 - Initial Signs of Danger
Chapter 212 - Nosedive
Chapter 213 - Conclusion of Battle

Chapter 214 - The Keeper Band worth Two Bottles of Wine

Chapter 215 - Prince Hansbach
Chapter 216 - Rangers
Chapter 217 - Lieutenant-Colonel Rosley
Chapter 218 - Ambush
Chapter 219 - Casualties
Chapter 220 - The Battle Reignites
Chapter 221 - On the Frontlines
Chapter 222 - Wilf Stronghold
Chapter 223 - Marching in Line
Chapter 224 - Suppressive Attack
Chapter 225 - Visit
Chapter 226 - Returning for Duty
Chapter 227 - Blackmaple Castle
Chapter 228 - Deployment Strategy
Chapter 229 - Squirrel Village
Chapter 230 - Questioning
Chapter 231 - The Baroness' Complaint
Chapter 232 - Charm
Chapter 233 - Discussion and Inspiration
Chapter 234 - Major Lederfanc's Inspection
Chapter 235 - Secret
Chapter 236 - Black Wolf
Chapter 237 - Wolf and the Maiden

Chapter 238 - The Shack Beneath the Rubber Tree

Chapter 239 - With in the Forest
Chapter 240 - Finally Speaking
Chapter 241 - Howling Wolf
Chapter 242 - Rainy Night
Chapter 243 - Skinning
Chapter 244 - Sheila
Chapter 245 - Nature Spells
Chapter 246 - Kindle and Fireball
Chapter 247 - Hidden Book
Chapter 248 - Nineteen Magic Scrolls
Chapter 249 - Spell Study

Chapter 250 - Construction of the Wooden House

Chapter 251 - Enemy Movements
Chapter 252 - Preparations
Chapter 253 - The Battle Begins
Chapter 254 - Night Attack
Chapter 255 - Armies Gathering
Chapter 256 - Pursuing Soldiers
Chapter 257 - Attack and Defence
Chapter 258 - Cannon Bombardment
Chapter 259 - The Camp as Tough as a Fortress
Chapter 260 - Strategy
Chapter 261 - Splendid Victory
Chapter 262 - Triumphant Report
Chapter 263 - Background
Chapter 264 - Leisurely Time
Chapter 265 - Joint Investigation Committee
Chapter 266 - Knighthood
Chapter 267 - Role Reassignment
Chapter 268 - Grand Gathering
Chapter 269 - Coincidental Reunion
Chapter 270 - News from Welikro
Chapter 271 - Explosive Shot
Chapter 272 - Mission
Chapter 273 - Dominion of Death
Chapter 274 - Castle Landes
Chapter 275 - Remaining a Deadbeat
Chapter 276 - Supply Difficulties
Chapter 277 - Fall of Rimodra
Chapter 278 - Mistake
Chapter 279 - Withdrawal
Chapter 280 - Siege
Chapter 281 - Shootout
Chapter 282 - Grassland Goldeagle
Chapter 283 - Siege Tower
Chapter 284 - Clash on the Walls
Chapter 285 - Siege Towers Destroyed
Chapter 286 - Escape Route
Chapter 287 - Withdrawal
Chapter 288 - Noble and Peasant Officers
Chapter 289 - The Brash First Prince
Chapter 290 - No Limit to Imbecility
Chapter 291 - Imposters
Chapter 292 - First Lieutenant Perengue
Chapter 293 - A Life Lost
Chapter 294 - Countermeasures

Chapter 295 - Judiciary Investigation Committee

Chapter 296 - Investigation Ongoing
Chapter 297 - Investigation Concluded
Chapter 298 - Train of Thought
Chapter 299 - The Dust Has Settled
Chapter 300 - Family Visit Break
Chapter 301 - Efenasburg's Black Market
Chapter 302 - Bandits
Chapter 303 - Bandit Encounter
Chapter 304 - Return Home

Chapter 305 - Mother, Sister, Brother, and Pluto

Chapter 306 - Sister and Spells
Chapter 307 - Lady Maria's Deliberations
Chapter 308 - Buying Woodland
Chapter 309 - Myriad Changes
Chapter 310 - Kills and Magic Accessories
Chapter 311 - Visits
Chapter 312 - Marriage
Chapter 313 - Peddler Donoby
Chapter 314 - Lieutenant Manrique
Chapter 315 - Accommodation Problems
Chapter 316 - Home Stay and Eloping
Chapter 317 - The Sounds Upstairs
Chapter 318 - Laundry Chaos
Chapter 319 - Trash Novel
Chapter 320 - Arrival in the Royal Capital
Chapter 321 - Visit
Chapter 322 - Village Chief Chenova
Chapter 323 - Advanced Strategy Class
Chapter 324 - Rainy Season
Chapter 325 - The Hole Under The Bed
Chapter 326 - Inadequacies
Chapter 327 - Family Correspondence
Chapter 328 - Special Independent Tribe
Chapter 329 - Personnel and Organisation

Chapter 330 - Military Discipline and Healer Transfer

Chapter 331 - Long Distance Training
Chapter 332 - Two New Developments
Chapter 333 - Training Exercise
Chapter 334 - Another War
Chapter 335 - Arrival on Nubissia
Chapter 336 - Port Cobius
Chapter 337 - The High-Commissioner's Problem
Chapter 338 - Planning
Chapter 339 - Encounter
Chapter 340 - Claude Defence Line
Chapter 341 - Night Attack! Night Attack!
Chapter 342 - Operation Burn
Chapter 343 - Push and Pull
Chapter 344 - Burning Mordo
Chapter 345 - Siblings' Arrival
Chapter 346 - Angelina's Marriage Matters
Chapter 347 - Victory and Expansion
Chapter 348 - Theatre of War
Chapter 349 - Great Battle's Eve
Chapter 350 - Bait and Massacre
Chapter 351 - Battle of Balingana (1)
Chapter 352 - Battle of Balingana (2)
Chapter 353 - Battle of Balingana (3)
Chapter 354 - The General's Mistake
Chapter 355 - State of Turmoil
Chapter 356 - Military Budget Debacle
Chapter 357 - Changes in the Corps
Chapter 358 - Truth and Excavation
Chapter 359 - General Fansnik
Chapter 360 - Field Marshal of the Theatre
Chapter 361 - Problem Solved
Chapter 362 - Spending and Promotion
Chapter 363 - Mister Weyblon
Chapter 364 - Drivick
Chapter 365 - Explosives and Ignition Powder
Chapter 366 - New Theatre Preparation Meeting
Chapter 367 - Sudden Incident
Chapter 368 - Reuniting with an Old Friend
Chapter 369 - Matters Settled

Chapter 370 - Work Horses, Donkeys, Mine, and Factory

Chapter 371 - Monster and Power
Chapter 372 - Hot-air Engine
Chapter 373 - Borkal's Mission
Chapter 374 - Bull Hunting
Chapter 375 - Dawn Attack
Chapter 376 - The Second Encampment
Chapter 377 - Battle Back and Forth
Chapter 378 - Trade
Chapter 379 - Third Victory
Chapter 380 - General Eiblont
Chapter 381 - Conquest of Wickhamsburg
Chapter 382 - Strike
Chapter 383 - The Nikancha Call for Help
Chapter 384 - Great Deal for the Nikancha
Chapter 385 - Position Shift
Chapter 386 - News from Shiks
Chapter 387 - Majid III's Plans
Chapter 388 - Word of Mouth
Chapter 389 - Sixty Percent
Chapter 390 - Reunion After a Long Parting
Chapter 391 - Father-Daughter Magi
Chapter 392 - Revolver Test: Success!
Chapter 393 - Recruitment
Chapter 394 - General Aljess
Chapter 395 - Attack Drill
Chapter 396 - Gunshots at Midnight
Chapter 397 - Ambushed
Chapter 398 - Assassination
Chapter 399 - Loss

Chapter 400 - Greytower Magi and Countermeasures

Chapter 401 - Thoughts and Self-preservation
Chapter 402 - The Royal Capital's Response
Chapter 403 - Non-stop News
Chapter 404 - Humbling Oneself
Chapter 405 - Discharge Problem
Chapter 406 - Problem Solved
Chapter 407 - Rapidly Changing World
Chapter 408 - War Orphans

Chapter 409 - Civil War and Waves of Immigrants

Chapter 410 - Conclusive Year-end Report

Chapter 411 - Secret Orders from the First Prince

Chapter 412 - Downsizing and Shocking News

Chapter 413 - Restructuring and Huge Bombshell

Chapter 414 - Reasoning
Chapter 415 - Rubbish Defence
Chapter 416 - Absorbed into the Theatre
Chapter 417 - Viscount Godic
Chapter 418 - Averting Trouble
Chapter 419 - Assembly Hall
Chapter 420 - Borkal's Legendary Exploits
Chapter 421 - Military Industrial Equipment
Chapter 422 - The Purge
Chapter 423 - New Rifle
Chapter 424 - News from Smugglers
Chapter 425 - Western Coast
Chapter 426 - Loan
Chapter 427 - Fundraising
Chapter 428 - Lease
Chapter 429 - Argument and Captives
Chapter 430 - Faceslapping
Chapter 431 - Claude's Countermeasures
Chapter 432 - Operation Leak
Chapter 433 - Opinion

Chapter 434 - Here Come the Nikancha Ambassadors

Chapter 435 - Negotiations (1)
Chapter 436 - Negotiations (2)
Chapter 437 - Shiksan Arrival
Chapter 438 - Pre-war Business
Chapter 439 - Defence Line
Chapter 440 - Reason for Loss
Chapter 441 - Night Attack and Ambush
Chapter 442 - Solving the Root of the Problem
Chapter 443 - Wolfang Band
Chapter 444 - Witness to the Night Battle
Chapter 445 - Awards and Armaments
Chapter 446 - Unexpected Developments
Chapter 447 - Attack Mishap
Chapter 448 - Heated Battle at Camp
Chapter 449 - Bloody Clash

Chapter 450 - Merit, Lesson, and the Foolish Nikancha

Chapter 451 - The Wondrous Nikancha
Chapter 452 - Conclusions
Chapter 453 - Meeting and Decisions
Chapter 454 - New Research
Chapter 455 - Tobacco Business
Chapter 456 - Rumours and Going Off-topic
Chapter 457 - The Nikancha's Offer
Chapter 458 - Suggestions Laced with Threats
Chapter 459 - Idle Chat and Arrival
Chapter 460 - Nikancha Camp-flight Incident
Chapter 461 - Why Isn't Shiks Attacking?
Chapter 462 - Attack and Reinforcement
Chapter 463 - Tricks and Countermeasures
Chapter 464 - Crossing the Floating Bridge
Chapter 465 - Meeting and Surprise Attack
Chapter 466 - Thundercrash's Assault
Chapter 467 - Surprise Attack Planning
Chapter 468 - At Sea
Chapter 469 - The Grand Push
Chapter 470 - Cleanup After the Great Battle
Chapter 471 - Borkal's Experiences
Chapter 472 - Private Conversation
Chapter 473 - Blacksail and Eriksson
Chapter 474 - Rebuke
Chapter 475 - Ambassador's Arrival
Chapter 476 - Piglet Capture Conflict
Chapter 477 - Shock at the Banquet
Chapter 478 - Ambassadors' Night Meeting
Chapter 479 - Blinded by Greed
Chapter 480 - Aftermath and Self-governance
Chapter 481 - Deploying on the Mainland
Chapter 482 - Sacred Light Era Year 595
Chapter 483 - The Union Rises
Chapter 484 - Request and Reply
Chapter 485 - Troubling Household Matters
Chapter 486 - The Hunt
Chapter 487 - Tracking
Chapter 488 - Train
Chapter 489 - Blackwind, Stop Licking!
Chapter 490 - Sheila's Experiences
Chapter 491 - Catching Up
Chapter 492 - Busywork and Misfortune
Chapter 493 - Family Troubles
Chapter 494 - Splitting Family Assets
Chapter 495 - Aid
Chapter 496 - Ironclad and Stahlhelm
Chapter 497 - Declaration of War

Chapter 498 - Chasing Ambassador's Away and Maria's Arrival

Chapter 499 - Conversation on the Train
Chapter 500 - Deciding to Deploy
Chapter 501 - Goals
Chapter 502 - Operation Crescent Moon
Chapter 503 - Arrival and Impersonation
Chapter 504 - War on Two Fronts
Chapter 505 - Triumph of Ambruiz
Chapter 506 - Station and Choice
Chapter 507 - En Route to Polyvisia
Chapter 508 - Butcher of Polyvisia
Chapter 509 - Saint Lusk Naval Battle
Chapter 510 - Severe Circumstances
Chapter 511 - Choosing to Fight or Leave
Chapter 512 - Prelude to Battle
Chapter 513 - Clash in Polyvisia (1)
Chapter 514 - Clash in Polyvisia (2)
Chapter 515 - Clash in Polyvisia (3)
Chapter 516 - Clash in Polyvisia (4)
Chapter 517 - Good News and Lies
Chapter 518 - Appointment and Delegation
Chapter 519 - Captives and Expansion
Chapter 520 - Disassembly and Diversion
Chapter 521 - Prime Minister's Two Proposals
Chapter 522 - The King's Scheme
Chapter 523 - Elevation Fee
Chapter 524 - Choice and Solidarity
Chapter 525 - The Council's Three Demands
Chapter 526 - Solidarity of Victors
Chapter 527 - Fief Picks
Chapter 528 - Bandit Extermination
Chapter 529 - Really a Misunderstanding?
Chapter 530 - Deploying Troops
Chapter 531 - Prime Minister's Reception
Chapter 532 - Sharp Negotiations

Chapter 533 - Reparations Negotiations and Arms Deal

Chapter 534 - Two Bits of Bad News
Chapter 535 - Analysis and Response
Chapter 536 - Ironclad Deal
Chapter 537 - Operation Wildfire
Chapter 538 - Shiksan Captives
Chapter 539 - Tesoray's Future
Chapter 540 - Family Matters

Chapter 541 - Reorganisation and Voluntary Folk

Chapter 542 - Escort and Transport
Chapter 543 - Court Case of the Wood
Chapter 544 - Pamigar Revolt
Chapter 545 - Battle Report
Chapter 546 - Looming Threat
Chapter 547 - General Skri's Secret Message
Chapter 548 - Western Coast Incident of 603
Chapter 549 - Death of the Great Chieftain
Chapter 550 - Return of General Birkin
Chapter 551 - Cape Lodocus's Handover
Chapter 552 - Homecoming Shiksans
Chapter 553 - To the Mainland
Chapter 554 - Blancarte's Intentions
Chapter 555 - Worrying Household Matters
Chapter 556 - Clueless Mother
Chapter 557 - Avitelli I of Bleyotte
Chapter 558 - Fate of Mambamark
Chapter 559 - Strategic Lies
Chapter 560 - 9th Month of Year 604
Chapter 561 - Attacking First
Chapter 562 - The Great Demise

Chapter 563 - Strategic Analysis and Delegation

Chapter 564 - Blancarte's Suggestion

Chapter 565 - Change of the Homecoming Shiksans

Chapter 566 - Claude's Headache

Chapter 567 - National Defence Force and Useless Allies

Chapter 568 - Wolves Abroad, Hyenas at Home

Chapter 569 - Middle of the 9th Month

Chapter 570 - Lease and the Court's Three Requests

CHapter 571 - Refused Requests

Chapter 572 - Arbeit's Past

Chapter 573 - Two Letters and the National Preservation Fund

Chapter 574 - Reply and Captives

Chapter 575 - General Siegfeld's Development Plan

Chapter 576 - Official Notice and Lawsuit
Chapter 577 - Awkward Court Case
Chapter 578 - Meanwhile, on the Western Coast
Chapter 579 - Potential for Sheila to Advance
Chapter 580 - Borkal and Eriksson
Chapter 581 - Myjack Joins the Household
Chapter 582 - Borkal's Failure
Chapter 583 - Visitation
Chapter 584 - The Royal Family's Ironclads

Chapter 585 - Three Main Intelligence Agencies

Chapter 586 - Royal Navy Scandal
Chapter 587 - Trivialities
Chapter 588 - Attack on Port Wades
Chapter 589 - Battle of Nubari Islands
Chapter 590 - Dawn of the Age of the Ironclad

Chapter 591 - The Western Coast of Rapid Change

Chapter 592 - Intervention