Chapter 74.5

Author's Note: An interim BRAND NEW chapter right after Count Leon sent a message to the Ardent Cretins to attack the Seven Snakes' weapons factory. This chapter aims to explain why the attack never happened, and the state of the war preparations and Count Leon's circumstances before entering into battle. It also hints at the Duke's insistence of not having war, as well as their feudal contract with each other.

“No.”

Sebastian was amused at the man’s response as they sat opposite each other in a posh restaurant. However, they were the only two within the restaurant itself, with both their bodyguards guarding the various exits, staring each other down. Sebastian noticed a striking resemblance between one of the bodyguards and the man in front of him. Daughter, perhaps?

“I don’t think you understand the implications of what you’re responding to, Gunther Raven.” Sebastian slowly explained, his finger resting on a piece of paper, pointing to a contract clause. “We can help you get a foothold in Raktor in a fair exchange. All we are asking for is a stable supply line. Do you really want to be constricted to Kregol for the rest of your life?”

“If I wanted to break into Raktor, I would have done it myself. We Ravens have our own pride. We do not need your help. Consider yourself lucky I even entertained you.” Gunther spat.

Sebastian squinted his eyes. “Impressive arrogance for a big fish in a small pond. You have yet to see the ocean beyond your pitful borders yet.”

“Try me. We rule the whole county of Kregol – everyone cowers before us. Why should you be any different?”

“Kregol’s population is minuscule compared to Raktor – being the largest gang here means nothing.”

“Then why are you even dealing with us? You can try to wipe us out right now.” Gunther provoked.

“Is this your first time dealing with a major gang from another county? You’re doing a remarkably poor job of diplomacy.”

Gunther held up a single finger. “I know exactly how strong you are, Ardent Cretins. You don’t even have full control of your South Sector yourself, and you want to run all the way to Kregol to bully us? You chose the wrong targets, fucker.”

“We do not intend to oppress you; we simply want to establish trading relations.”

“Why? Raktor has ten times the economic output of the whole of Kregol put together – you don’t need us. The only reason I can think of is you want to muscle your way into our business, as if Raktor wasn’t enough. Now, you have one minute to get the fuck out of this restaurant before I turn you into fertiliser for my flowers.”

“You’re going to regret this, Gunther.”

“Fifty seconds.”

Sebastian sighed, standing up and taking back the contract. “Last chance.”

“Last chance for you, maybe. Forty seconds.”

As incensed as Sebastian was at the treatment, he decided to walk away instead, leaving with his bodyguards back to an arctech wagon. Pitiful Ravens, a gang trapped in a well. The arctech wagon soon left the city of Kregol, heading back towards Raktor. There was no reason for him to stay any longer.

“Sir, there’s a request from Count Leon to attack the Seven Snakes factory.” One of his bodyguards reported.

Interesting. “How much is he offering?”

“Exclusive mining rights.”

Sebastian nearly burst out in mirth, unable to control his laughter. He wants me to waste my forces fighting another gang outright for that paltry rights? And against Kyle? Is he dumb? “He really doesn’t have a single clue of what is happening around him. Like a pig heading to slaughter, unaware of the grinder before him. Reject his offer.”

The bodyguards were slightly taken aback, having never heard of Sebastian rejecting a Baron’s or Count’s offer before. “Sir, wouldn’t that cause Count Leon to retaliate against us once more?”

“That fool is preparing for war while oblivious to the undercurrents in Raktor. He can hardly afford the troops to suppress us. Forget about that idiot – focus our efforts on establishing supply routes from Kregol. Use every trick in the book to crack apart the Ravens. Hire assassins on Gunther as well: I want to see his gang fall to pieces.”

Sebastian glanced out of the window, staring at the black cathedral that marked the centre of Kregol, a bleak monument of the county. A period of turmoil is coming, and I plan to stand on top of everything. But first, we must prepare.

“Tell Ares to make a visit here to Kregol. Maybe they’ll change their minds then.”

***

Count Leon was flabbergasted. “Are you sure the Duke said no?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Read the damn message again!” He angrily shouted at the messenger, who hurriedly unfolded the rolled-up message once again, reading from the top.

“The Duke is opposed to the war, and shall not provide any resources nor mages to the war if it does occur. The Duke recommends Count Leon to stay his hand, and to conserve resources. His last message is: There will be a right time to use them.”

There will be a right time to start a war?Count Leon gripped the edge of a wooden table tightly, his armoured glove nearly crushing and scrunching up the edge of the battle map laid out on the table. Countless blue and red chess-like pieces were placed like markers – battle plans for the invasion of Raktor.

“The last time he told me that was five years ago, and the time before that was seven years ago! He’s stalling again!” Count Leon exploded with fury, bellowing at the top of his voice while slamming the table. His generals stiffened up, exchanging glances with each other as they were unsure of how to react.

Outside the operations room in which Count Leon was raging, the sounds of military drills and synchronised shouting could be heard incessantly, merging into a continuous din as new recruits and reservists were trained on arrival, bolstering Count Leon’s forces while he continued to mobilize near the border of Raktor towards Ocra, the camp sprawling.

The recruitment of soldiers was not as strong as imagined – Count Leon needed something, a catalyst of sorts to bolster his recruitment efforts. He had been hoping that the Duke’s approval of his war would give him further legitimacy, but that was now thrown out of the window.

“My Count, perhaps we should heed the advice of the Duke.” One of the braver generals spoke up. “The Duke might be aware of something that he cannot say in a message. Maybe it is wise to seek a personal audience with him.”

“Aware of WHAT?! That he has been restricting me? That he has been afraid of my prowess and skill, that when I capture half of Versia, I might challenge his authority? This is the third time that he has told me to wait, and each time before that, nothing has happened!” Count Leon shot back with a rage unlike before, his patience far gone. “Inform the damn duke that I will be attacking when and whenever I please – he can have his levies, but the rest of the troops are damn well mine to use how I want!”

“Yes, sir!” The messenger immediately retreated, unwilling to bear the stress upfront any longer. Count Leon took a few deep breaths, calming himself down slowly before saying anything else. He glanced around the room once more, taking in the faces of his general before he realised someone was missing. “Where the hell is General Xan? We need him to deliver a few speeches to the new recruits.”

“Sir, he’s reported in sick today and tomorrow.”

“Sick?” The hero of the 1st Yual-Versia war, sick? I haven’t seen him call in sick in more than ten years? The idea that his most important general was potentially ‘skiving’ infuriated him even more. It felt like nothing was going his way in this war, yet all it did was drive him to push harder for success. He did not obtain the Count’s position by avoiding adversity.

Just as he was about to relax once more, his anger subsiding, yet another messenger arrived. “What now?!” Count Leon’s anger rose sharply again, aware from the countenance of the messenger that it was another piece of bad news.”

“Sir, the Ardent Cretins have refused to attack the Seven Snakes, citing their incompetency and inability to deal significant damage. They have offered to improve the terms of their military contract to us in exchange.”

“WHAT?! They are the damn major gang of the South Sector! The Seven Snakes are but small fries compared to them!”

The messenger did not know how to respond, himself completely out of the loop. Count Leon glanced down at the scaled map, the layout of Raktor, Ocra and Tenar all pieced together to form an expansive overview. What the hell is Sebastian playing at?

He re-arranged his priorities, checking the mobilisation rate of the troops and realizing that he needed time to build up his strength before hitting Versia. Fighting against the Ardent Cretins was useless and would only serve to hinder his mobilisation and training process. He needed those supplies, which were provided by every major gang and vetted before utilisation.

“You. Send the Ardent Cretins a revised contract. I want the overall contract awarded to them to be reduced by ten percent.” Count Leon motioned to a logistics officer. “And have we gotten our own light-capturers and light-throwers yet?”

“Yes, sir. We’re preparing them for use immediately.”

“Good, I want them ready by tonight.”

***

General Javel gasped for air as he jolted awake in his cot, internally frightened by the sounds of footsteps coming down through the prison corridor. He huddled into a corner as the arctech lantern’s light began to cast shadows of the corner, eventually shining right onto his malnourished figure.

“Please, no more! I have told you everything!” Javel shouted in fear as he peeked his eyes, noticing a hooded figure with a backpack slung across his back.

“Javel, it is me.” The hooded figure pull the hood back, revealing a scarred face. Javel nearly cried for joy when he recognised the voice and face.

“Brother Xan, I thought you had forsaken me!”

“Why would I? We swore an oath that day. Get up. I’m taking you to the border.”

Javel quickly complied, more than happy to leave the stinking prison cell that had housed him for more than a month. All he could recall over the fleeting days were countless hours of torture and interrogations.

Xan quickly helped clothe him, unashamed of Javel’s sickly form. The two had been through much worse in the wars before. “Have you ensured our escape route?” Javel asked with a tinge of panic as they walked out of the cell, glancing at all the other prisoners who were fast asleep in their cells, either knocked unconscious or passed out from the tough slave labour.

“I have prepared a wagon that can take us all the way to the border, which you will then be on your own. That’s as far as I can go.”

“I understand.” Javel nodded. Xan was the insider he had in the military, having risen up through the ranks. It was the only way the Ilysian Punks were able to nab that many shipments without the military detecting most of them.

The two of them walked right through the exit, coming face to face with the prison guards who watched the gate. “General Xan? What are you doing here?” The prison warden questioned, astonished. The general and the shivering prisoner made for a weird sight, especially in the dead of night, raising suspicions among the prison guards.

“I’m transferring the prisoner to a separate prison. This is a top-level military mission. Do not leak of this transfer – Versia agents may try to intercept this wagon. This is why it must be done now.”

“Ah, I understand. Yes, sir. Open the gate!” The warden nodded his head, saluting General Xan.

Outside the gate, an arctech wagon was already waiting for the two of them. General Xan helped Javel into the back before getting into the driver’s seat and riding off into the forest.

“Where… where are we?” Javel had no clue where he had been imprisoned, kept in the dark the entire time when he was a prisoner.

“Just beyond Raktor, near the Versia border. We will arrive in three hours. For now, get some rest. There is an arctech handgun at the back, be prepared to use it if anything goes wrong.”

Javel nodded, taking a much-needed rest. However, a sudden jolting shook him right awake again as the wagon screeched to a halt, with the sounds of people surrounding the wagon with bright arctech lights, illuminating the cloth that covered the wagon.

“Who are you people? Do you know you are obstructing a Yual Dominion general?!” Xan got out of the wagon, his hand on the pistol on his belt as he glared at the eighteen assailants who surrounded him. They were all equipped with state-of-the-art military gear, their face masked to protect their identity.

The assailants did not respond, instead raising their repeaters and aiming them at Xan, who performed a quickdraw and fired off three rapid shots before the assailants could react, causing their projectile defence armour to flare green.

Xan dashed into the treeline, using the tree trunks as cover as a hailstorm of projectiles showered the forest, cracking branches and punching holes through leaves as they fell.

Xan stuck his hand out to fire a few blind shots in their general direction, flinching as the bark near his head was stripped off by a near shot. Pinned down by the suppressing fire, Xan could only watch as the other assailants approached the back of the wagon, easily dragging the weak Javel out.

“Shit, Javel!”

“You should worry about yourself.” A familiar voice spoke from behind Xan, causing him to turn and throw a punch in that direction instinctively. However, it was immediately grabbed by a strong grip, with Xan only seeing the world swirl around him as he was flung onto the ground by sheer strength

His military training kicked in, quickly recovering and rolling out of the way.

“I had a few people in mind that fulfilled the requirements. Calling in sick? A dead giveaway.”

Resuming a shooter position, he fired the remainder of his shots at the familiar figure.

The projectile defence armour of the man flared to life, blocking all the shots. Xan tried to reload, but the man was faster, lunging forward with a sharp engraved sword and stabbing into Xan’s shoulder, causing him to shout in pain.

Xan fell onto the floor, with the tip of the sword still pressing into his flesh as the man placed one foot on top of him.

“General Xan. Hero of the 1st Yual – Versia War, yet here you are, betraying the very Emperor you swore an oath to serve. You know, I was worried I would not have the reason nor motive. But thanks to you outing yourself right here and now, I have the best catalyst I can think of.”

“I swore an oath to protect peace!” Xan spat on the man’s face, whose projectile defence flared to life again, neutralising the spit.

“An interesting worldview. What made a peaceful general turn to illegally smuggling weapons to the enemy? Surely that would create more problems than solve them.”

“Don’t try to fool me. The only reason why the Yual Dominion continuously lusts for Versia territory is due to its smaller military. You are no different from your father before you, Count Leon. Do not think your expansion and war with Versia is noble.”

Count Leon scoffed. “And you thought balancing the scales of technology would make up for it? That by establishing equal power, you could balance the world? To limit growth?”

“It is better than petitioning against an uncaring Emperor and a greedy Count! The nobles only think in terms of gains and losses, so why can’t I amplify the potential losses?”

Count Leon’s eyes squinted. “Be careful, General Xan. It might be one thing for a citizen of Raktor to speak ill of the Emperor, but a general won’t be let off so easily.”

“Just kill me and be over with it.”

“Oh no, I have better plans for you. You,” Count Leon spoke to one of his underlings. “Is the lightcapturer ready?”

“Yes sir, all working.” The underling hauled a large machine. Xan recognised it immediately, but he still could not figure out what was going on.

“Good. Drag Javel here as well. You two, put on these emblems.” Count Leon grabbed two Versia Emblems from his front pocket. Xan eyes widened as two of the assailants began to masquerade as Versia soldiers.

“What in Yual’s name are you trying to do?! This is treason!” Xan tried to lift his body up, but the sword pierced even deeper into his shoulder, blood gushing as he felt a weakness overtake his entire being.

“Smile for the lens, Xan, for you die a hero. Be happy! For the war sparked for your sake shall be glorious.”