—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Since the vassal oath of Earlasar’s principality, more and more of the Shika tribes had been submitting to the Kingdom of Robros with each passing day.
This was due to the successful strategy of Duke Bastain’s persuasion.
The duke promised that, after the war, he would allocate a considerable portion of the desert trade’s profits to the coastal powers by carrying out large-scale harbor construction and paved-road projects. With this, he secured the vassalage of the southern coastal city-states of the great desert and won the favor of the tribes along the roads.
Furthermore, to those whose power was based on agriculture, he promised massive irrigation projects to expand farmland, thereby drawing them into the Robros coalition army. As for the small city-states and tribes of the western steppe—who annually paid tribute to Braam—he pledged to abolish the tribute of people altogether, and even reduce the tribute amount to the tax level of the Kingdom of Robros,
thus shaking the unity of Braam’s allied forces.
Of course, making such promises would incur enormous costs, but the money was in Kara, so fulfilling them posed no particular problem.
The ultimate aim of Duke Bastain’s strategy was the isolation of enemy forces.
By drawing the support of the small desert factions oppressed by neighboring great powers, he sought to confine the enemy to Braam and Kara—alongside the desert bandits—and thereby smoothly lead the future war.
Beyond this, Duke Bastain also devoted himself to expanding the supply lines.
The Demon Trade Route was too barren and vast—if the army relied solely on this single route to advance into Kara, they risked the annihilation of the entire force.
Thus, the supply lines prepared by the Kingdom of Robros comprised three routes.
The first was the central supply line through the Demon Trade Route.
The second was the naval supply line: deploying the navy to land along the coastline a month and a half south of Kara, and using the oases in between as supply bases.
The third and final was a multifaceted local supply line secured through the co-opted minor city-states, tribes, and Shika war merchants.
“Oh my, look at that. It’s raining down like a storm.”
Shura, Sister Armida, and I were watching in real time the battlefield video of the clash between Braam and the Robros royal army, transmitted from Euroa’s floating battleship.
After four days of continuous catapult bombardment, Braam Castle was almost in ruins. The defending soldiers struggled desperately to repair the collapsed walls, but it was pointless. The endless barrage of stones continued to bring the walls crashing down.
I folded my arms and let out a sigh.
“Hmm. Duke Bastain. At this point, he could storm in, but he still hasn’t.”
“Brother. Do they really need to attack right now?”
“They should have already. Look at that—the walls are gone.”
“Then why aren’t they going in?”
I glanced toward the Shika troops, who had joined the war in alliance with Robros.
“Looks like he’s waging psychological warfare on his own allies. The catapult bombardment is flashy and cinematic. Seeing those giant stones soaring through the sky, and the towering walls crumbling helplessly—that’s terrifying. He’s probably warning the Shika not to betray him.”
“Really? Then how long will he keep it up?”
“They must be getting bored of it soon. Fear, once adapted to, becomes routine. That means a new fear is needed.”
As expected, the bombardment soon ceased. Then dozens of siege towers and mantlets began to advance. Behind them, troops followed. Some were Robros soldiers, but the majority were mercenaries.
‘This duke… He already leveled the walls, yet he’s still using mercenaries. What a devious man.’
Siege warfare always demanded heavy casualties, so it was common to put mercenaries at the forefront. They not only fought well, but if they died, their pay was saved.
But Braam’s walls were already useless. There was no need to pay mercenaries to do the job.
Moreover, once mercenaries breached the walls, plunder would erupt. Terrible massacres would follow, and much of Braam’s buildings would burn to the ground.
So if mercenaries were being used despite all this, the real aim must be the devastation itself. Since a great kingdom couldn’t openly sanction plunder, he was exploiting the brutality of mercenaries to unleash “accidental” atrocities.
Later, he could parade the horrors before the Shika allies to terrify them, and if trouble arose, he could simply execute a few mercenary captains under the pretext of disobedience and brush it aside.
Clearly, the duke was extremely wary of Shika betrayal. And rightly so—after all, this was not a well-tempered alliance forged over generations.
“It’s starting.”
Arrows shot from Braam’s walls struck down attackers, but the return fire from the siege towers and below the walls was overwhelming. Though Braam’s archers seemed superior in skill, the Robros army’s sheer numbers drowned them out.
Meanwhile, mercenaries broke through the defenses blocking the collapsed walls and surged into the castle. Now, the wall defenders had to fend off attackers from behind as well.
Soon, hand-to-hand combat erupted atop the walls, while the main Robros cavalry force launched a mass charge.
It was the end. The battle still raged, but tactically, it had become nothing more than a one-sided slaughter.
Ding-dong, ding-dong.
At that moment, the doorbell rang. A visitor had arrived.
I went down and opened the door.
“Oh? What brings you here?”
The visitor was none other than Magus Udin. But his face was pale as a ghost. He must have received news of Braam’s battle via magical communication.
“I came because there’s something urgent I must discuss.”
“Alright, come in.”
With my permission, Udin hurriedly sat down on the sofa I indicated.
No sooner had I poured him tea than Udin spoke.
“Braam Castle has fallen.”
I scratched my head at that. From the live footage I’d just seen, the battle was still underway. True, Braam would fall eventually, but saying it had already fallen seemed premature.
“Who told you that?”
“Commander Abdul, who was dispatched as reinforcement to Braam, has reported it.”
“Ah, then that fellow must be on his way back to Kara by now?”
“No, sir. He’s already returned through a portal.”
I clicked my tongue. The Kara military officers had a remarkable knack for survival. The walls had only just been breached, yet he had already fled. It was obvious—Commander Abdul must have panicked the moment the real assault began and bolted immediately.
And now, he even spread a false report that Braam had fallen. Truly disgraceful.
“And the rest of his men?”
“They too escaped with their lives and are currently making their way back to Kara via the Demon Trade Route.”
“How many survived?”
“Fortunately, thanks to Commander Abdul’s swift judgment, most of them seem to have escaped safely.”
Too swift a judgment, perhaps, but since the troops were preserved, one could call it a kind of merit.
“Alright. So, what did you come here to say? Why today?”
“Master, I beg you—please aid Kara.”
Udin suddenly dropped to his knees and bowed deeply.
As expected, the moment had come. With Braam destroyed and most desert forces siding with Robros, Kara’s fall was inevitable. Naturally, Kara now desperately longed for my power, like a drowning man clutching at straws.
I sank into deep silence and thought. Until recently, I had no intention of involving myself in this war. But now, I hesitated.
‘What should I do?’
If I joined, I’d have to toil until winter. Kara’s army was that weak.
But if I joined, humanity would gain firsthand experience with powerful weapons that would later prove crucial in the Age of Destruction. Systems and armaments that humanity would eventually adopt.
With this knowledge, humanity would face the coming doom with greater strength and endure longer.
That meant my own lifespan would naturally extend.
Luxurious leisure now, or extended life later. After long deliberation, I finally helped Udin to his feet.
Settling myself, I addressed him in a calm tone.
“Magus Udin. A moment’s desperation cannot save Kara.”
“…What?”
“Kneeling won’t solve your problems.”
“But…”
“Your forces number around four thousand, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And the Robros army?”
The Kingdom of Robros had grown larger than when it first set out. From a base force of 150,000, plus 17,000 mercenaries, and 32,000 Shika allies—making a total of 199,000. And now, with many city-states and tribes defecting after Braam’s fall, the number would rise exponentially.
“In my judgment, their numbers will soon exceed 200,000, perhaps even 250,000.”
“So you understand you can’t possibly match them, yes?”
Udin lowered his head.
“Yes…”
“But it’s not that there’s absolutely no way to win.”
Udin trembled. To him, my words were the only glimmer of hope.
“How? Please tell me.”
“You only need to follow my words to the letter.”
“I will obey.”
He agreed without even asking what those words were. Understandable, given his desperation. Yet, I saw no true resolve in him.
“One condition is that I hold the right to appoint clansmen and alter titles as I see fit.”
Udin’s eyes widened. Such authority was beyond even the ruling prince. Possible, yes, but never arbitrary.
“That’s impossible. The other clans would never accept it.”
“You must. To field the troops needed, we’ll need the power of commoners too, but the current clan system blocks that. This is already a compromise—I had originally considered demanding the abolition of the clans entirely.”
“But…”
“Will you lose everything, or yield a little? To me, it’s a simple choice. To you, it seems hard. Fine then, face extinction.”
At those words, Udin steeled himself and met my gaze directly. Indeed, it was a simple choice.
“…Very well. I’ll do it.”
“Wise choice.”
“But we’ll need at least some justification to persuade the clans. Otherwise, Kara will splinter from within.”
He wasn’t wrong. Division on the eve of war would breed traitors, infighting, and a weakened state.
But in truth, there was no need for justification.
“The justification already exists. If you win this war, your clans will gain far greater privileges than they’ve lost.”
“What privileges?”
“Kara will become the capital of the desert. A unified Shika kingdom will be founded. Do you think the spoils will be meager?”
Now that Braam was gone, no desert power could rival Kara. If they defeated Robros and seized Braam as well, Kara would wield immense influence over both the western steppe and the desert trade routes.
In other words, the dream of a desert kingdom was within reach.
True, it would perish in eight years—but for now, this was enough to quiet the clans’ dissent.
“…Yes, I see.”
“A unified kingdom will need many clans. And really, are nobles born? Whoever, peasant or slave, who contributes to the founding becomes a noble, a clansman.”
“Yes. You’re right.”
“Whatever I do, you’ll lose nothing. Because it’s a hard war, the rewards of victory will be vast. So focus only on winning. If you get hung up on trifles, you’ll gain neither glory nor survival.”
“…Understood.”
Crisis is opportunity.
Kara now faced the great crisis of Robros’s invasion. Yet at the same time, the chance to found a kingdom lay before them.
I intended to use that dream to manipulate the whole of Kara. For what drives humans above all is desire.
“Now, let’s go to the Kara palace. This is too great a matter for just us to decide, isn’t it?”
“Yes, we’ll need Prince Tohu’s sanction. I’ll escort you.”
And so, together with Udin, I made my way to the palace.
The master of Kara was, undeniably, Padilla. Without her sanction, nothing could be done.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
[Your Text Here]
