hermitscave

Chapter 429 - Fog of War

"You're Alcer, are ya!?"

Again. Why is everyone staking out in front of my house?

By now, Alcer felt like he was back in the jungle, with enemies in waiting all along his hunting paths at all times, in search of a moment of weakness. Every time he thought he was safe, with his home in view, someone would jump him from nowhere. However, when the veteran turned around, he found that this particular enemy didn't look too threatening.

A burly man had been waiting around the corner of Alcer's house until someone had entered the yard. Now that the home's owner had appeared, he came towards him and Kichka. The new intruder was quite tall, maybe half a head taller than Alcer, but the army veteran had no reason to be afraid. From what he could tell, he certainly looked less of a threat than Aunt Anka.

"Are you from the bank, friend?" Alcer asked, smiling in the face of the guy's attempt at a scary face. "I received your note a few hours ago and already wanted to contact your people soon. So there was no need to come here in person. Still, I want to be a good host. Would you like to come inside and-"

"Shut it! I'm not from some bank, shorelander. I am the head guard of the great Master Rimaq, master craftsman of Sillu Island's great papermaking manufactory." Together with his prideful, booming voice, the guy sneered, and walked up until he was half a step too close to Alcer, an uncomfortable distance. "Master Rimaq sent me. He's heard about your little talk with that drunkard Kyunya."

What a strange guy.

That was all Alcer could think, really. What was a 'shorelander' in the first place? Since they were living in Saniya, surely they were all living by the shore. Rather, he couldn't even see the shore from his house. And what exactly would a craftsman need a private guard for anyways, multiple at that? However, there was no reason to spark a conflict with the man. Although he could already guess what this 'head guard' had come to do, his reply remained simple, yet polite.

"And what is your master's message?" His words were calm, his face without expression. Sometimes, calm confidence was enough to let thugs like this back off. This time, it didn't work.

"And Master Rimaq, in his benevolence, sent me to warn you," the shore guy continued, still as aggressive as before. "That drunkard Kyunya is a liar, and a thief. Don't trust a word he says. Whatever work you plan to do with him, you should stop right now, before you regret it."

Barely a veiled threat anymore, huh? Looks like this Rimaq is quite petty.

"And what if I don't take your advice?" Alcer asked, as he barely held in a smile.

Though at the same time, he tensed his body, and prepared to defend a sucker punch, or a suddenly drawn knife. He knew quite well how these sorts of people fought. However, the shore guy's response was milder than expected.

"Then I'll have to teach you some manners first," he said. "Show you that you can't just mess with the papermakers without getting cut."

As he spoke, the big man moved even closer to Acler, and held him by his collar. However, his grip was poor, and he made no attempt to protect his lower body.

This guy didn't spend a second in the army, Alcer concluded.

Any soldier trained in Saniya had also received extensive training in hand-to-hand combat. They would never have to rely on size and intimidation alone, and they would never be as unprotected as this man. Just when Alcer wanted to teach the idiot a lesson, the guy's unpleasant face turned to shock as he disappeared to the right.

As he had probably run out of patience as well, the previously ignored Kichka had grabbed the paper guard's arm and twisted it backwards. With his blanket around him and his huddled figure, Kichka must have looked like he was no threat. It was a costly mistake for the big man. Before Alcer knew it, his subordinate had brought the head guard to the ground and straddled his back, while he applied enough force to his bent arm to make him scream.

"Who do you think you are, fat man?" he shouted. "Did you think you could just mess with an army officer, huh!? You're not doing anything to the captain, not with me around!"

Faced with real fighters, the fake guard lost all his bravado.

"Aaaah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It was a mistake," he shouted, with tears in his eyes.

"You're damn right it was. You must have been sniffing to much of your paper glue to think you could come here and show off, right!?"

"Yes! I'm a glue sniffer! I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

"That's better."

Finally, Kichka let go of the paper guard, who stood up and sheepishly rubbed his twisted arm. In the good tradition of his trade, he crumpled quite easily. For a few seconds, he viciously stared at Alcer, but Kichka stared right back, so he didn't dare take a step forward again. Still, it seemed like he hadn't really learned his lesson yet.

"You better listen to Master Rimaq's advice, officer," he finally said. "This isn't over yet."

With that, the guy turned around and ran as quickly as he could. He was probably expecting retaliation to his words, and he was right.

"How dare-" Kichka wanted to go after the guy and punish him some more for his nonsense, but Alcer held onto his old subordinate's arm.

"Let it go," he said. "He didn't really do anything illegal, not that he could. But if you go at him one more time, you might just kill the guy, and I don't want to deal with a murder happening on my doorstep. Let's just ignore the glue sniffer and go inside. It's been a long day."

__________________________

Once Alcer and Kichka had entered Alcer's home, both took a seat, as best as possible under the circumstances. After some debate, the retired officer ordered his old subordinate to sit on the only chair, while he had to make do with the bed. Once he had money, he would first buy a hundred chairs, he decided.

"Thank you for dealing with that idiot," the retired officer finally said.

"No need to mention it, captain. I know you could have easily dealt with him yourself."

Alcer really had no interest in bragging about his own prowess. He wasn't that good at close combat in the first place, and far more comfortable behind a rifle at a distance.

"No, you handled yourself well," Alcer commented instead. "That was a good submission grip."

For a second, Kichka looked happy with the compliment, before his body visibly deflated.

"I guess that's at least one good thing I have left from my time in the war," he said, and sighed, as his eyes wandered around the room. Whatever he had been thinking about, his mood seemed to have been restored once he finally looked back at Alcer.

"Maybe I can use that, keep troublemakers like that glue sniffer away from your manufactory, captain," Kichka said. When he saw Alcer's confused face, he rubbed his hair and explained further. "I mean, if you hire me, I don't want to be useless. I won't be much help with making paper, right? "

"Why would you think I'm making paper?" Alcer finally voiced his confusion, before he realized. "Oh, no, the paper guard from earlier didn't threaten me because I'm trying to take their business. They're not competition. That was about a different matter entirely. One second."

Rather than explain the complicated business between Kyunya and Rimaq — a business he himself hadn't quite understood yet — Alcer stood up again and put the bayonet prototype from the corner of the room onto the table. Surely, this was a more productive topic than vague speculation about who was lying between master and disciple.

"Rather than paper, this is what we're going to produce," Alcer finally, before he explained his new bayonet concept for the second time today. By the time he was done, Kichka was turning the prototype in his hands and observed it with an admiring smile, similar to Mallku this morning.

"You always were a sharp one, captain," Kichka finally commented and put down the bayonet. "We really could have used this thing in that damned jungle. You know, I also came up with a..."

Halfway through his sentence, Kichka's words broke off, and he looked to the side. His expression looked uncomfortable, his brows all scrunched up like that, clearly unwilling to continue. However, Alcer was intrigued.

"What did you come up with?" the curious veteran asked. "Maybe we can make use of it in our new company."

Already, Alcer was saying 'our' company. In his mind, the loyal, mindful, and troubled Kichka was a full member of his non-existent company already. However, this new partner was still lacking some confidence.

"No, please forget about this," he said. "Unlike you, captain, I'm not good at thinking."

"That'll be for me to decide, surely," Alcer countered, before he emphasized: "Out with it."

For a second, Kichka still struggled, but the subordinate just couldn't withstand his superior's stare.

"Fine," he finally conceded, with another sigh. "The idea had almost the same origin as this bayonet. That's why I thought of it when I saw this. You know how we had those ramrods, and then the cleaning rods for all the barrels. We kept losing them."

"That's right," Alcer remembered. "Every time we came back to our camp, we had to replace a few."

"Yeah. I was so useless, kept dropping them. Sometimes, my hands would shake so bad that I couldn't even get those fiddly things into the barrel at all."

That's nothing to be ashamed of.

That was what Alcer truly thought. Most men would struggle with their nerves during war, himself included. As far as he was concerned, Kichka had shown more bravery than most. Still, he knew that such comfort would sound hollow to the veteran, maybe even like an insult. Since Alcer really didn't know what to say, he remained silent and just listened.

"I thought about it. That moment when I was reloading kept going around in my head, how tense it all felt," Kichka continued, before he began to imitate the practiced motions of reloading his weapon. "I think the worst part was that I had to set the stock against the ground, and then look down, as I awkwardly tried to get that long rod into that thin barrel. Then I remembered your rifle, captain."

Ever since his time in Silla, Alcer had been granted an expensive rifle which used a bolt action reloading mechanism. Of course, he had continued to use the same weapon throughout the civil war, so he was intimately familiar with it.

"So I thought, why not do the same kind of bolt for the ramrod?" Kichka asked. "Imagine. The ramrod is inside the barrel, in a second chamber under the first one. It's on a rail, just like your bolt, except along the length of the barrel. And then, when you want to load or clean the barrel, just push the rod out a bit, spin it in front of the muzzle, and then pull it all the way down through the inside, and then back up. Done. It's faster, easier, and no more lost rods. I can even keep looking at the enemy ahead while I do it."

With his experience with bolt actions, Alcer had an easy time imagining it. Although he couldn't say much without the real article in front of him, since he wasn't a craftsman, he couldn't think of any problems with Kichka's invention off the top of his head.

"That's... a pretty good idea," he finally commented, before he moved on to the important part. "Do you have a patent?"

However, Kichka shook his head.

"No money for all that. And I don't even know if the idea is worth any salt in the first place. And how will I ever get this thing made? I don't know how to make a rifle. I couldn't have done that even at my best. It's worse now, with how I am."

After he had presented a barrage of problems, Kichka sank into self-loathing again. However, Alcer had a simple solution to all these issues. Not only would it solve problems for Kichka, it would also solve some of his own.

"Well, in that case, how about I help you? My manufactory is already in the weapons business. So why don't we make both of them together?"

When he had come to the docks, Alcer had just wanted to help his old subordinate. Now he had received help instead.

As he sat there, the fog which had covered Alcer's mind all day finally cleared. Bit by bit, he developed a plan, a plan for his own future, which would shape the future of the city. First though, he would have to confirm a few things.

Hermit's Notes: As usual, I'm a bit worried that this story line is dragging on, so do tell me if you're bored. It won't be much longer though, until we're moving on to something else... unless I change my mind again, which I tend to do.

Excerpts From the Constitution of Medala

Hello there. 

No new chapter today. Instead, here's some extended excerpts from Medala's new constitution, the one introduced in Chapter 371 - Miracle.

I've been going back and forth on most of this several times, so I'm sorta text blind to it all right now. So there's a good chance that this thing is full of simple mistakes and typos. I'll fix them as I spot them.

You'll also notice that I didn't write down some of the more common basic rights, but only included the more interesting/unique stuff here. Just assume that anything obvious is written down in the actual thing. Note that I also included obligations on equal footing with rights, which is something that's either missing or unreasonably lumped together with the rights in most constitutions. 

Anything I put here is subject to change, of course.

Oh, finally: I make almost no mention of the government institutions here, which would come later in the actual document. I'll probably just put together a diagram of that at a later date, maybe some time next week, if you're interested. Since it's essentially an absolute monarchy, it won't be too complicated or interesting anyways, with the exception of the newly added high court.

Now then, I think I've wasted everyone's time enough. Please enjoy.


Preamble: Based on an exchange of ideas, the people of Medala have collectively agreed that these following fundamental rights are true, logical and self-evident: All humans are born of the natural world, free and equal, with a right to pursue personal personal growth as they see fit. As inherent human rights, the following shall apply to all humans who live within the borders of Medala.



INHERENT RIGHTS


Article 1:

a) All humans are born free and equal, through their very nature.

b) As such, all citizens shall not be distinguished in front of the law, wherever possible.

c) Their freedom shall not be impeded, unless said freedom impedes the freedom or safety of other citizens, or threatens the stability of the institutions laid out in this document.

Definition: For the purposes of this document, a human shall be a sentient being with the capability of complex communication with other citizens. This definition shall be refined further as problems arise.


Article ():

a) Inherent in the nature of all humans is a pursuit of betterment and personal growth.

b) As such, no laws shall be made which limits such pursuit for the individual, unless said individual's pursuit unduly limits the pursuits of others or directly violates the RIGHTS and OBLIGATIONS laid out in this document.


Article ():

a) All humans arise from nature. As such, all humans have a right to a basic education, so that they may strive to understand nature in all its facets

b) Such scientific pursuit shall not be inhibited or limited by law, unless said scientific pursuit directly violates other RIGHTS and OBLIGATIONS laid out in this document.


Article ():

a) As natural beings, all humans have an inherent instinct to connect with nature.

b) As such, access to nature shall be guaranteed for all citizens wherever possible.

c) Nature is to be protected and preserved.



INHERENT OBLIGATIONS


Article 1:

a) As citizens who enjoy all rights granted by this document, said citizens are equally required to adhere to all obligations laid out therein.

b) Any violation of said obligations shall be considered a criminal act, and may lead to a temporary or permanent suspension of several or all INHERENT RIGHTS, up to the suspension of citizenship.


Article 2:

a) As an institution naturally formed by humans for the purpose of mutual protection and security, the state's first requirement shall be its continued existence, as well as the continued fulfillment of its functions as laid out in this document.


Article 3:

a) As an institution naturally formed by humans for the purpose of mutual protection and security, the state's second requirement shall be the security of its borders.

b) As such, all adult citizens shall be required to serve in said protection, either directly or indirectly.


Article ():

a) The state's paramount function shall be to provide public goods to its citizens. Public goods shall include, but are not limited to, security of the border, security of the state's institutions, fire prevention and fire fighting services, access to clean air, drinking water, or nature, as well as all forms of infrastructure. This list shall be expanded as necessary.

b) All citizens benefit from public goods by its very definition. As such, they shall be required to finance said public goods. A failure to make use of specific public goods by individual citizens shall not recuse said citizens from financial obligations.

c) Any exploitation of public goods by private citizens to the detriment of any public good or to the detriment of other private citizens shall be considered a violation of an INHERENT OBLIGATION.

Definition: Public goods shall be services or material objects which support citizens in their pursuits, either directly or indirectly, and are available to every citizen without limitations, beyond those laid out in this document.



PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS

………


Some additional notes:

Unfortunately, patreon is trash, so it won't keep the formatting of the text. Just imagine everything is center aligned.

'Article ()' means that I didn't want to nail down a specific number for this article. While the order technically shouldn't matter, it totally does in reality.

Definitions are added in the constitution to prevent some legalese shenanigans (like how corporations are people in the US). Though I'm unhappy specifically with the definition of human, since cleanly defining it while including everything I want without adding anything I don't want is way too tough a task. I might update this part later if I ever come up with something better.

The mention of 'Medala' in the preamble technically includes the north as well, since 'Southern Medala' isn't mentioned once. So the document technically claims to speak for all medalans, which has some interesting implications on legitimacy.

The establishment of a high court is mentioned later in the constitution, in the portion about public institutions.

There is no direct mention of god or religion in the entire document. The only vague mention is the nebulous connection between 'nature', humans and science, basically making peace between the Pacha religion (which reveres nature), and empirical science (which aims to understand nature), before any problems can arise in the future.

Both the importance of money and property rights are heavily de-emphasized in the constitution. Although basic property rights are still guaranteed, excessive wealth almost guarantees that the rich guy will violate several points of the constitution.

The emphasis on individual freedom and equality implies a ban on slavery. Forced labor for prisoners is expressly not banned, as the kingdom is still heavily dependent on it, an ugly compromise Corco should hate.

The emphasis on nature makes sense culturally, but obviously foreshadows a huge conflict point once an industrial revolution gets going.

Chapter 428 - The Other Side

When Alcer left the promenade for the side road that led back to his familiar neighborhood again, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. Finally, he was back home. At once, he felt the pressure in his head and chest ease. However, he was still troubled by the meeting in the ale house.

What to do?

Even after he had spent his entire walk back in thought, he still hadn't come to a decision. While he felt like he deserved to own the business he had built by his own so far, he also wanted to help Kyunya get back on his feet, since he sympathized with his story. Still, that was no reason to hand over so much of his business to workers he didn't know, was it?

In the first place, he was sure that at least Mallku would do fine either way. Those two were friends, right? Surely, he wouldn't just let his friend starve to death. Was it really Alcer's responsibility to take care of them, to his own detriment, just because he could?

Then again, he didn't even know what he would do with all the money once he got rich. Not to mention, getting a loan from the central bank was certainly the easiest and safest way to go if he wanted his business to succeed.

He really was getting tired of thinking back and forth. Now that he had finally returned, he threw all thoughts away, at least temporarily. For now, he would just get home and relax after his long walk and even longer discussion. Anything else had to come once he was in a better state of mind.

At last, he could see his little house in the distance, slowly getting larger, though never larger than the extended shack it was. Once he made it big, the first thing he would do was to move into a more spacious home. However, as soon as he made the decision, he was reminded of Master Rimaq in his big manor, and his mood soured again.

Once again, his thoughts began to spin, and so he failed to notice his surroundings. Just as he was about to step into his open yard, a shriek made him turn in shock.

"Stop, young man! Are you so deaf that you won't hear me!?"

Behind him, Alcer saw a weather-beaten old face he would usually avoid whenever he could. Before him stood Anka, the resident shrew. Not that he minded the old woman during ordinary times. After all, despite her abrasive way of talking, she had helped him a lot when he had been less fortunate in the past. However, he really couldn't stand the constant nagging, nor her repeated attempts to marry off her niece to him ever since he had returned from the war with the questionable label of 'hero'.

"Ah, good afternoon, Madam Anka," Alcer replied weakly, as he tried to turn back towards his home. The plan was simple: Keep walking and enter the door before the woman could react. However, the plan shattered on the shrew's determination.

"Halt, I said!"

This time, Alcer had no more choice but to stop and turn around once more.

"I'm sorry, madam. I'm a bit tired these days," the insincere veteran apologized for his cowardly behavior. Meanwhile, the old woman walked into his yard as well. As she closed in, the broom in her hand began to emanate a malicious aura.

"I hear you are a big man now, getting your own workshop built and all," she said, while measuring him head to tow like an ox for sale. However, Alcer wouldn't be roped into her plans.

"That's an exaggeration," he lied. "For now, I'm still a penniless retiree. I'm sure your precious niece will find someone better than me."

I have seen through your ploy, witch! You won't burden your niece with a good-for-nothing, will you? Now show your disappointment, and be gone from this place!

However, the calm shake of Anka's head once more disrupted Alcer's escape strategy.

"No, I didn't mean that," she said, before she added: "Although you young people should meet up once, at least."

"Yes, maybe one day," the insincere Alcer replied in a much better mood. Now that the old woman didn't want to sell him off to her niece anymore, he no longer had to be so impatient. Thus, he replied in a friendlier tone: "Then what can I help you with, Aunt Anka?"

"Some suspicious stranger came here this morning, stood in front of your house, looked through the windows. All in all, like a bandit or other such lowlife. I came out to drive him away, and before I could hit him, he handed me this."

As she spoke, Anka held a small piece of paper out towards Alcer, who took it dutifully.

Tasa Bank, Alcer read quietly. You people keep appearing everywhere.

"You know the man?" Anka asked. Her broom was half raised, as if she would go out to hunt down the banker herself if Alcer didn't exonerate him right away.

"Ah, yes I do. He works for the Tasa Bank, so he shouldn't be anyone dangerous," he saved the man's life. "Thank you for giving it to me."

"He also said that... you should make your decision quickly," Anka tried to quote the man, while scratching her long, grayed hair with the broom handle "He said, their funds is limited and they cannot wait on you forever? It was something like that, I didn't quite get it. Does that mean you have business with this bank?"

"Ah yeah, something like that," Alcer replied thoughtlessly, which he regretted right away.

"I knew it," Anka shouted. Her judgmental look from before had returned, yet now she was even nodding her head, apparently happy with her purchase. "You will surely be a great man in the future, hero."

"Yes, thank you, madam," Alcer said while his eyes scanned the surroundings for an out. Before the situation could get any worse, his brain worked at high speed, until it found a suitable path of escape. "Since this bank business is an urgent matter, I have to go now take care of it. So please excuse me."

Thus, before the woman could sell off her niece again, Alcer had turned around and entered his home. When he heard his door close shut behind him, he sighed in relief once again. After he had thrown the blanket with his prototype and patent to the side, he took off his wet overcoat, and then sat at his only table, on top of his only chair.

Again he fell into thought, as he had done so many times today. All the while, he was turning the bank's card in his hand. The added time pressure didn't exactly make things easier for him.

For today, maybe it was better to take care of his social obligations and free up his mind first. He had to start untangling the mess in his head somehow, so he may as well start with his old subordinate.

__________________________

In Saniya, every neighborhood was different, with different characteristics and different atmospheres. Alcer knew that well. Even so, he was still shocked when he entered the eastern dock district for the first time since he had enlisted in the army all those years ago. While there had been quite a few layabouts on the promenades, things were even worse here.

Beggars and thieves competed for the cramped space. The roads were dirty and cracked from the constant movement of people and goods. At least the rain had stopped, so the puddles of water weren't overflowing anymore and no longer turning the crooked road into a river.

Within this mess were the dockhands, an army of workers who were struggling to move crates from one place to the next. They traveled from the distant forest made up of ships and their masts, to the warehouses all around him, and from there into the city, along the promenades and into every shop in Saniya. Meanwhile, these workers with their precious cargo had to be on the lookout for all those who seemed to just sit there with nothing to do for the day, those who were eyeing them from every corner at every moment. Most of them were just trying to survive, of course, but many would also use every chance to fill their bellies for a day, even if they had to kill a man.

This place, the place where Alcer had been working until he had joined the army, was the beating heart of Saniya, which pumped lifeblood in the form of goods into the arteries called promenades, and then further into all neighborhoods, to support the entire city. Apart from Rapra Castle, it was possibly the most important place in all of Saniya.

However, not much seemed to have changed since his departure years ago. Unlike the rest of the city, which was beautiful and new, this place still stank of fish and rust. The roads were still too narrow for all the goods to travel through, and there was still much vermin around, of both kinds. Of course, the roads had been expanded here just like they had been in the rest of the city, maybe even more so. Yet despite that, the harbor had only gotten busier and dirtier with the unstoppable growth of the city.

Although a frown developed on his face, Alcer ignored the familiar sights and stenches as he made his way towards the north side of the neighborhood. Here, he would find the cheap shacks of the dockhands, where a day laborer could pay two copper to spend the night with a leaky roof over his head.

Of course, he always retained his vigilance, watching dark corners and staying away from people as much as possible. He had come in the evening, since he knew from Killari that Kichka was working the morning shift these days. However, maybe that hadn't been such a good idea in retrospect. By the time he went back, it would be dark, which meant the thugs, pickpockets, and beggars of the harbor would be even more unscrupulous than they were already.

Despite his worries, Alcer reached the crooked shacks unharmed. Maybe they had been scared off by his sturdy frame for now, or maybe they had simply seen his cheap clothing and deemed him an unprofitable mark.

Most of the overnight shacks were newly built, though one couldn't tell from their outward appearance. In the wet, wind-swept environment, where salty rainwater would beat against the walls without cease, it took only a few years to turn these shoddily built wooden huts into barely standing, wind-swept shacks. Inside, he would find rows upon rows of workers, trying to rest up for their next shift at work. However, before he could even step inside, he had already found who he was looking for. Rather, he had been found by the very same.

"Captain? What are you doing here?"

When Alcer followed the sound and looked down, he spotted a familiar face, sitting huddled up inside a mangy blanket underneath the shack's short overhang.

"Kichka?" Although he looked in even worse condition than Kyunya, wrapped up in a blanket out in the open like this, Alcer still recognized his old subordinate, much to his surprise. What were the chances that they would meet just like this? Though for now, there was a more pressing question to be answered: "What are you doing out here?"

"No money," Kichka said bitterly. "Don't even have two copper to rub together these days."

"What are you talking about?" Alcer asked, still too confused to even consider helping up his subordinate. "Killari said you were working as a dockhand. How come you have no copper?"

Right away, Alcer thought of the worst, dice games, or wine. Although his downtrodden subordinate relieved his worries, his actual answer wasn't any better.

"I did, but the bosses didn't like me no more," Kichka whimpered, as his body curled up underneath the blanket. "You don't know how it is, captain. Damn war ruined me. Every time I'm in one of those damn warehouses, where one thing lies on top of the other all in a mess, those boxes start to look like that damn rainforest from back then."

Iskay Island, Alcer thought. The place where we fought together.

"Every time I enter one of those place, my chest goes tight and I get no air," a distraught Kichka continued to explain. "Whenever I heard something fall over or someone bang against anything in the warehouses, I'd go down for cover. Just like we used to do in the war. It happened a few times, and one time I dropped and broke some Chutwa glaze. So I gained a reputation. Those big bosses talk to each other, you know? Now no one wants to hire Kichka the madman."

Alcer was in shock. Was this how this city treated its war heroes? What was the veteran's office even good for then?

"Why didn't you ask for help? You could have come to me, or at least Killari."

"Can't involve the police, captain, even if he's your friend. It's better for both of us if we stay away from each other. But don't worry, captain. I'll get by. There's plenty of veterans at the docks. Lots of them work for young master Ekkoko now. We look out for each other, and we don't need anyone's help. We make sure that none of our own have to starve. They'll help me while I get that damned head of mine in order again."

Even now when he sounded hopeful, Kichka still had tears in his eyes. Even worse, it sounded like he had gotten himself involved with one of the local gangs. Originally, Alcer had just come here to check on his friend and maybe offer him a job in his bayonet business. Now however, Alcer was determined to get his subordinate out of here, before he got himself killed, or lost his mind.

"No, you'll come with me," he said, determination in his voice. At the same time, he pulled Kichka up by his arms.

"I really don't need it, captain." Although the homeless veteran said so, he still obediently followed his old captain's orders and stood up. "Don't worry, young master Ekkoko will take care of me. I know you don't have much money yourself, so you don't need to waste your time with me."

However, Kichka's consideration only made Alcer laugh.

"Hah, looks like you're not that well informed here. I'm also a big boss now. I came here today to hire you, so you won't need to rely on that young master whatever. Just rely on your captain instead. So come on, we're leaving. That's an order, soldier."

"Understood," he said, before he added in a whisper: "Thank you, captain."

After they had taken a few steps, Alcer saw his new companion make some hand movements towards a suspicious figure, who promptly retreated into a dark side alley.

With his new companion in tow, it appeared as if Alcer at least didn't have to worry about getting robbed anymore on his way back. Thus, the two safely left the harbor, and returned to a more pleasant neighborhood.

Hermit's Notes: I'm a bit worried that these chapters were quite slow (as I usually am), but apart from setting up the later story line, I also wanted to give a comprehensive overview over the entire city, in all of its facets (new and traditional, safe and unsafe, rich and poor). I hope you guys don't mind the slower pace.

Chapter 427 - Worker Cooperatives

As Kyunya's story continued, the atmosphere around the table became heavier and heavier. Just in time, the flippant blacksmith chimed in again.

"Well, we handled the war just fine in the end, even without you," he joked.

"Wait, you were in the army as well, Mallku?" a surprised Alcer asked. Before, when he had been introduced as a war hero by Killari, the blacksmith hadn't said a thing. Yet now, he no longer hid his achievements for some reason.

"Of course. Fourteenth Infantry Division, Private Mallku, at your service," he said and added a sloppy salute.

"Ensign Alcer, First Special Batallion," Alcer shot back almost on reflex, before he remembered his current status and deflated again. "I mean, I used to be, before I retired."

"Don't worry about it, I'm also out." The casual Mallku grinned. "Just reserve now. In the first place, I mostly just stayed in the back to fix rifles and cannons, so it's hardly worth mentioning."

While the two were talking about their time in the army, Kyunya looked more and more uncomfortable as he fidgeted in his seat. Rather than join in, he tried to continue with his story.

"Anyways, we won the war-"

"To victory!" Mallku suddenly shouted, and raised his tankard into the sky.

"Victory," the more reserved Alcer called, almost out on reflex again. While he was neither as enthusiastic as the blacksmith nor did he have a tankard in his hand, yet he still couldn't hide his pride at their achievement.

"Victory!" Voices from the celebrating craftsmen in the center of the room chimed in.

Meanwhile, Kyunya just raised his tankard in the air without a word. While Mallku and the craftsmen emptied their wine, the papermaker just stared into his third drink of the day for a while, before he let it back down onto the table and let go of the handle. While Mallku was still drinking, Kyunya continued, his voice even lower than before.

"We won, and then, a month ago, came the final grain that sank the boat," he said, but once again, Mallku interrupted him.

"Gosh, you could feed an army with that much rice," he complained. However, Alcer was quite sympathetic to this young craftsman by now. If nothing else, at least his attitude was proper. He didn't deserve this kind of treatment.

"Just let him finish his story," Alcer said, and added a stern look towards Mallku for good measure.

"Sorry," the loudmouth said, and looked over at Kyunya. "I apologize. Please continue."

"Thank you," he said, before he added a grateful nod towards Alcer. "About a month ago, an official from Rapra Castle came to visit our manufactory, straight from the kingdom's ministry of industry. He called all the workers together, including myself and Rimaq, and informed us that the crown would no longer operate our manufactory for us, and that the entire building would be put up for sale very soon."

"Wait, how come they want to close you down? I thought you were the biggest papermakers in the country?" Alcer asked.

"We are, but the great Master Rimaq had to find some way to pay for his manor." Again, Kyunya's bitter sneer from before had returned. "With all kinds of tricks, the man stole every coin he could from the business he had been entrusted with. Thus, we made less and less money for the crown, until, it appears, they finally lost patience with us. The decision to sell was irreversible. Though there was still a silver lining. Together with the announcement, the official also made us an offer: Instead of selling our manufactory off to some private merchant or great lord, who would just exploit us even worse than Rimaq had, we were given the option to transform our business into a worker cooperative."

"A what?" Alcer asked, confused by the word he had never heard before. Still, it sounded important, somehow.

"A worker cooperative," Kyunya repeated. "It's a business, just like any other. Only that there is no owner who takes the profits at the end of the month, neither the crown, nor the master who owns the workshop, nor some landlord who owns the building. Instead, the ownership is equally shared among all the workers, so all the profits at the end of the month are also equally divided among them."

"That sounds good," Mallku commented. "Would have got a lot more money for drinking and whoring than that pittance old man Asiro throws me.

"So your manufactory didn't make money any more, and as a result you would have just received everything for free?" Alcer asked in disbelief, but Kyunya soon shook his head.

"No, while we would have been required to pay nothing in advance, we would have been indebted to the Medala Central Bank. Still, we would have only needed to repay a small amount every month, until about seven tenths of the manufactory's current value would have been paid off. After that, the entire building, and everything inside it, would have been ours, profits and all. It was the perfect opportunity both for me, and for all the workers there, to make something of ourselves. If only we had agreed, we could have all lived prosperous lives. And yet..."

As Kyunya trailed off, Alcer realized what had happened, though he didn't understand.

"Wait, you didn't take the offer? Why?" he asked in consternation. How could anyone not take such a deal?

"Rimaq was against it, of course." Kyunya sneered. "I argued in favor, and tried to rally the workers behind me, but many didn't quite understand the official's words. Others didn't believe that such a good offer could be real, so they remained cautious. In the end, the official left while we were still undecided, and he told us that we had a week to come to an agreement and make an application at the castle. You know, in case we agreed to transform into a cooperative. After that, I spoke to the workers one by one and convinced a few, but it was all for naught. After a few days, master had bought some of the workers with bribes and cheap promises. By the time I noticed, he had intimidated even more into rejecting the offer as well. In the end, most workers were against the transformation, so nothing happened. As of now, our manufactory is still to be sold to the highest bidder. I hear it will be up for auction soon."

Thus, Kyunya seemed to have finished his story, or at least the most upsetting part of it. Slowly, his clenched fingers let go of the third tankard — still full — and pushed it to the side. As he sank back into his seat, he closed his eyes, his brows furrowed in irritation. However, Alcer still didn't quite understand the whole story.

"Wait, I get why your master would be against turning over his life's greatest achievement to the workers who used to be beneath him," he began. "But still, he won't be any better off if it's just sold to some other private citizen, right? Once he's no longer protected by the crown, some merchant will probably buy it and then take a much closer look at his books, especially at the source of Master Rimaq's sudden wealth. Wouldn't he be in trouble then?"

Finally, Kyunya opened his eyes again. By now, they were no longer bitter, or irritated, he looked furious as he stared at Alcer.

"No, I already know why Rimaq was so opposed, and what he has planned," he said. "None of your worries will be a problem for our great master, because he wants to buy the manufactory himself. He already has a loan line up with those wolves from the Tasa Bank. He has planned it for a long time. Apparently, those bankers came to him even before the official arrived with the offer. I overheard them scheming about the takeover a few days ago. When I found out, I lost my calm and confronted him about it. Of course, he just denied everything and sent me home. When I came to work the next day, Rimaq framed me for stealing some minor goods to discredit me, and threw me out. Now, because my old master removed me in shame, I have lost my official qualifications as a papermaker. Do you understand? My future has been destroyed by my own master and those greedy wolves from the Tasa bank, for nothing but some coin."

At the mention of the familiar name of Tasa, Alcer's face changed slightly. However, before he could say anything, Kyunya had already continued.

"That is my first condition if you want me to work with you: You can't accept a loan from the Tasa Bank. Not to build your manufactory, and not ever. Or you will have to do so without my help."

Of course, Alcer immediately reminded him of the flaw in his brilliant plan.

"But if I don't take out a loan, I won't have the money to even start the business," he pointed out. "How will I pay you without a loan?"

"Not a problem, master. So long as you can accept my second condition as well, everything will work out, for both of us: Instead of a normal workshop, simply open up a worker cooperative."

For a second, Alcer was confused. How could he open up such a cooperative without having his own manufactory first? The officials wouldn't just give him one, right? After the second of thought had passed, he realized that he was still confused, so he had to ask for help.

"I don't understand. I don't work in a manufactory," he pointed out.

"No need." Finally, Kyunya had traded in his permanent frown for a smile. "Since I have been relieved of my duties, I have had a lot of time. Whenever I was not busy tasting the assortments in this fine establishment, I invested some energy to inform myself on the official's offer. It is possible to receive a loan for the founding of a manufactory from the central bank directly. This is far more reliable than a deal with those greedy Tasa wolves, and the conditions are better as well. All you have to do is prove that you want to start a viable business as a worker cooperative, and they will give you the money."

"That loan is only possible for those cooperatives?" Alcer asked, just to make sure. If he was honest, he would rather start his business on his own, without getting anyone else involved. The bayonet design had been his idea after all. However, Kyunya's answer disappointed him.

"Yes, the kingdom specifically wants to foster the creation of worker cooperatives. Apparently, it is one of the measures to help the retired veterans, since many of them were workers before the war."

Again, Alcer thought for a while without coming to a decision. He still wasn't convinced of the idea, but it wouldn't hurt to get some more information.

"In that case, what do I need to do?" he asked.

"Well, your business idea needs to be approved first, since the bank will not hand out free money for a loss-making business."

"That's not a problem," Alcer stated confidently. After all, he already had a product and a buyer lined up.

"In that case, you just need a minimum of ten people, all of whom need to be workers in that company," Kyunya continued. By now, he seemed completely sober. "Though if they stop working there, they automatically lose their shares, and if the number drops below ten during the loan period, there will be an investigation. Apparently, it's meant to prevent fraud."

At least in that regard, Alcer didn't care. He had no problem with working in his own manufactory. What else would he do with all his time anyways?. However, the conditions presented another problem.

"Ten people... that's a lot," he thought aloud.

"With me, we already have two here, master," Kyunya added.

"What about you, Mallku?" Finally, Alcer remembered that there was still someone else sitting at the table. When he turned towards the blacksmith, he was already greeted by a wide grin.

"Of course I'm in. Why do you think I asked this drunkard to come over in the first place?"

"Good, then we have three," Kyunya said. "I can bring a few more over from my old work. Do you know anyone else?"

"Maybe one." When he said so, Alcer thought of Kichka.

"Well, I can maybe grab a few more from the old man Asiro, but we'll need a whole lot more than just ten for this job," Mallku commented, less enthusiastic than Kyunya.

"To be honest, I thought we should start small at first, and then scale up when our operation is stable," Alcer argued, but Mallku wagged his finger in the veteran's face in an annoying manner.

"You want to sell this bayonet to the army, right?" he asked, to which Alcer had ot nod. "They'll need tens of thousands of these things, because that's how many rifles they have. A decent blacksmith can make maybe three of these in a day, and only if he works efficiently. If all ten of our workers make three a day, that's only about ten thousand a year, not considering waste products or accidents. The army won't wait half a decade on their order. So we need sufficient numbers right from the start, or we won't get the army's order in the first place."

"The central bank also gives out larger loans if the number of registered workers for the cooperative is bigger." Kyunya added. By now, both craftsmen seemed fully on board with the idea. However, Alcer was still hesitant.

"Well, so far I haven't even decided if I want to do this 'cooperative' in the first place. How about this: I'll talk to a few people and think it over for a while. If I don't contact you in a week, feel free to do something else with your lives."

Thus, with a dampened mood at the table, Alcer paid for the wines he hadn't drunk and quickly left the ale house. For now, his head was full of new ideas. If he wanted to make the right decision, he had to be alone for a while, so he could order his thoughts.

Chapter 426 - Kyunya's Story

Inside the 'Tipsy Tradesmen', Alcer was shocked by Mallku's sudden invitation towards the man in the corner.

Wait, the drunkard?

Before Alcer could rue his decision, the aforementioned drunkard, who had been slumped in the corner of the ale house up until now, had already stood up and staggered up to his and Mallku's table.

"What do you want now, you rube?" he asked. " I just had a lie down and you are bothering me again already." Although the stench from his mouth unmistakably labeled him as a drunk, his voice was surprisingly clear, and his choice of words surprisingly polite, despite his rude tone.

Now that Alcer got a good look at this drunkard, he seemed young as well. Although there were dark spots under his unfocused eyes, there weren't any wrinkles, and his attempt at an unkempt beard amounted to no more than a stubble. With such an unreliable look, Alcer became more and more suspicious of Mallku's recommendation. Was this guy really supposed to help him with his burgeoning business?

"Wait, 'just'?" Mallku asked back, with an obviously fake look of shock on his face, wide-open eyes and all. "Last time I talked to you was yesterday evening. Friend, did you spend the whole night in here?"

"Night?" The young man's shaky voice trailed off as he looked around the room, until he eventually got caught on the brightly lit windows. By the time he looked back at Mallku, he no longer pursued his own missing time. Maybe he was embarrassed. "So why did you call for me? What do you want?" he asked instead.

"I want nothing," the blacksmith emphasized. With a gloating grin on his face, he pointed sideways at Alcer. "This hero here wants to hear your story. Tell him what happened to you. You know, bother him like you've been bothering everyone in here these days."

"What, so another one can make fun of me?" the drunkard furrowed his brow. Maybe he was contemplating the option for a bit, before he waved his hand in a vaguely dismissive manner. "No thank you, I would rather sleep another round."

When the drunkard tried to return back to his corner, Mallku finally stopped grinning. Instead, he half stood up and grabbed his guest by the shoulder.

"Wait," he said, finally in a serious tone. "This guy wants to build a manufactory, and he needs an administrator. Just stay and tell your story. Don't worry, friend, no one will laugh at you. Maybe there'll even be some work in it for you."

Again, the drunkard looked like he was thinking.

"Come on, we even prepared some drinks to moisten your throat," Mallku said, and nodded towards the three tankards of wine on the table.

Seconds later, the wordless guest had dragged another chair to their table and sat down. Now he was chugging the first of three wines, as Alcer watched in astonishment. Would this drunkard really be helpful to him? Rather, was he fine drinking this much wine first thing in the morning, and on an empty stomach no less? When he glanced over to Mallku with a concerned look, the blacksmith just waved away his concerns and motioned Alcer for patience.

Finally, the drinker slammed the empty tankard back down onto the table. Maybe Alcer would have been shocked, had he not gotten used to sudden noise over the past few years. Thus, he just patiently waited until the man was ready. Today, he had nothing better to do anyway, and he got used to waiting in his last employment. Meanwhile, the drinker brushed his mouth clean and rubbed his eyes for a bit, before he stared at Alcer. Despite his drinking problem, those eyes looked surprisingly clear as they observed him.

"So you want to build a manufactory, do you?" the drunk finally asked, to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Yes, I do," the veteran replied, while suppressing the urge to lean backwards, away from the stench. "My name is Alcer, by the way. I heard you are Kyunya?"

"You heard that right, master. Are you really looking for an administrator?" Again, Kyunya's voice was surprisingly polite, and hopeful. However, Alcer wasn't really ready to leave his new business in the hands of a drunk.

"I am. So I'm guessing you know someone you can refer me to?" he asked instead. Although Mallku had implied that this Kyunya was the man to help him, Alcer wouldn't be so silly to rely on him. Anyways, if he was an administrator, surely he would know more more in the field, preferably ones without a drinking problem. When Kyunya hesitated, Alcer added another incentive. He grabbed a few coins from his pocket, held them out to the drunkard and said: "I can certainly make it worth your while."

In response, Kyunya frowned, only for a split second. Maybe he felt insulted, or maybe he contemplated the offer, but in the end, he didn't grab Alcer's outstretched hand.

"If you are looking for an administrator, I am certainly who you want. I guarantee that you will not find anyone better for the position," he said instead. "However, I do have certain conditions before I join your venture."

"What? Wait one moment." Alcer said, confused at the drunkard's leap in logic, as much as his confidence. "Why'd you think I would hire you in the first place? I don't know anything about you. And no offense, but your appearance does not inspire my confidence."

"Please excuse me, master. It seems I skipped a few steps. A bad habit." Kyunya bowed his head as he apologized. His politeness was wholly unsuited to his current sloppy appearance, as was his decorum. "First, I should introduce myself, properly this time."

Kyunya righted himself a bit, before he continued: "My parents gave me the name Kyunya, though since the last census it has become Kyunya Argo, as I hail from Arguna."

Everyone who had been in Saniya during the last census had added a family name to their title. Most people thought it was their king's gift to them, to make commoners and nobles more equal in status. However, Alcer was convinced that it had been the idea of some paper pusher in some lower government ministry.

Most likely, it would have simply been too difficult to differentiate between the hundreds of Kyunyas in the city without a second name. While Alcer was still thinking about all the other Kyunyas, the specific Kyunya in front of him tried to distinguish himself from them.

"During my time in the capital, I was already apprenticed to Master Rimaq, the best papermaker in all of Arguna. Several years ago, Master Rimaq was hired by the miracle king's men to come to Saniya and ply his trade here. We received outstanding accommodations, respect form the king, and even secret recipes for the fast and cheap production of high quality paper. By now, Master Rimaq operates the largest papermaking manufactory in all of Medala. Now he is no longer outstanding just in quality, but also in volume, the pinnacle of his craft. Throughout all this time, I was his head apprentice. In the manufactory, I was mostly in charge of handling the books, and overseeing everyday operations on the production side. On threat of repeating myself, I am your best choice, whatever position you need administering in your new business."

While it seemed like he was bragging, Kyunya's voice sounded low and his face looked bitter. Somehow, it convinced Alcer that he was telling the truth more than any confident speech ever could. However, he also noticed the problems with the drinker's self-introduction.

"But you're a papermaker, not an administrator," he remarked. "Wouldn't your main focus have been paper?"

"Yes, I am also familiar with paper making methods, though something tells me that this is not a service you will require, master." Kyunya glanced at the bayonet still lying on the table. "However, if you are worried about my lack of ability, you should rest at ease. Master Rimaq left all the unpleasant work to me. He was too busy being a big man in front of all the important people in the city. So while he entertained them in his new manor, I was stuck with these less desirable tasks. Pushing paper, rather than making it, you see."

By now, Alcer could smell the bitterness from across the table, and it wasn't just coming from Kyunya's clothes. Clearly, something had happened between master and disciple, and it was more than an unjust work distribution. Although Alcer only had the opinions of one party to go on, he still tried to get to the bottom of the conflict. If this desperate drunk in front of him really wanted to get hired, he would need a damn good story.

"Since you're so irreplaceable for your master, doing all the work on your own, why are you here drinking alone on an ordinary work morning?" Alcer asked. There was no point being polite. If this papermaker couldn't handle some scrutiny, there was no point continuing this talk in the first place. Apart from Kyunya and Alcer, the only people in the ale house — including Mallku — all seemed to be workers from the steel mill. After all, the steel mill only operated for about a third of the year and lay cold the rest of the time. However, a papermaker had no such excuse to spend his time drinking early in the morning while everyone else in the city was at work.

"Because I disagreed with Master Rimaq on how to run the manufactory from now on," Kyunya replied. He sighed and took up a second tankard now that the first was empty. As he drank, more restrained this time, he looked out the window. Finally, he put down the half-empty drink and sighed. "In truth, I have been antagonizing Rimaq for quite some time now, so I should have been prepared for this. The first grain was in the run-up to the lightning miracle."

"Do we need your life story?" Mallku asked. "We're just trying to recruit someone to help us run a manufactory, we don't need playwrights."

Confused, Alcer looked at Mallku. This Kyunya had been his recommendation, why was he so abrasive all of a sudden? However, when he looked over, he saw the blacksmith wink at him. Maybe this was the strange craftsman's way of helping out. If Alcer were to side with Kyunya against Mallku, it would surely lower his guard and bring them closer to the true story. After all, if they wanted to work together in the future, he had to find out if the young papermaker was reliable.

"No, I want to hear it. Please continue," Alcer thus said.

However, Kyunya was silent for several seconds as he stared at the table again. Finally, he took another big swig from his second tankard, before he continued.

"Did you know that those pamphlets full of lies were printed in our shop?" he finally asked in a low, shaky voice, as if he was confessing to a murder. However, Alcer was just confused.

"What pamphlets?" he asked.

"He is talking about the papers the priests from the north were handing out before the winter solstice," Mallku added, and his sneer revealed what he thought about the priests and their message. "You know the ones, about our king being cursed by the gods because of all the lightning and such."

Right, those hawkers.

Back then, those fake priests had been all over the promenades and bridges of Saniya to sell a fake future to them. Of course, Alcer also wasn't a fan of theirs.

"They were slandering the king, under order of those rebellious lords, who were trying to take the city away from him. And after the great king had done so much for me and Rimaq," Kyunya continued. His hands around the tankard clenched, but he didn't raise the drink. "I didn't want to take the priests' orders, but master just wanted the money and didn't care about anything else. So in the end, we did the dirty work for them. If you have ever been handed a pamphlet slandering our lord, I probably oversaw its printing."

"Wait, I thought you were making paper?" A confused Alcer asked. "You're running a printing press now?"

"The press just provides some additional income," Kyunya explained. "Since we already produce all kinds of paper, it was cheap to just buy a press and make some additional money with it. But there are too many presses in the city these days, so profit margins are low. As a result, it has never been more than a side business for us. Rather, the manufactory is still focused on papermaking as its core business, since profits in that regard have seen a significant increase."

That part didn't surprise Alcer. Even during the war, he had used paper cartridges every day. Though he wasn't too interested in pursuing this line of thought.

"If you were really the ones to make those pamphlets, I'm honestly surprised you're still around," he said instead. "Didn't you guys get arrested for treason after the Lightning Miracle?"

"No. Apparently, we didn't break any existing laws, even though we technically helped the rebels. At least that's what I was told by a judge in the least friendly tone you can imagine." Again, Kyunya sipped his drink after a miserable smile. "Rimaq also claimed that he didn't know what the pamphlets would be used for. He bribed a few people, donated some more money to the crown, and so we mostly got away with it. Though that's also why we had to move our operations to Sillu Island. We lost the trust of Rapra Castle, and it was easier to monitor us here. That was one of the conditions to keep master out of the labor camps."

"And that's only the first grain?" a shocked Alcer asked. If this was only the first problem, then how much worse would things have gotten until Kyunya lost his employ?

"After the start of the war, I wanted to enlist in the army." The papermaker nodded his head and continued his story. "I should have been more steadfast from the start, should have been tougher when denying the priests. Even more, I should have stood up to Rimaq, and threatened to leave if he insisted on taking the order. I know all that." Again, Kyunya drank from the wine. Just when Alcer wanted to console him, he slammed the empty cup onto the table and continued. "I wanted to make up for our previous mistakes, atone for my weakness, so I wanted to help our king win our war for us. I know it's silly, I have no military training. But I thought at least I could do some work behind the front lines. I could carry supplies, or help build things. I'm good with my hands."

"You shouldn't be too hard on yourself. At least you owned up to your faults and tried to correct them. I've seen greater men than you show less bravery in simpler times." Alcer offered some advice together with an understanding smile. Even among the soldiers, he had seen many who felt inadequate in their efforts. "Though I'm guessing your master didn't let you go."

"That's right. Master Rimaq just wanted to keep me around, since I ran a lot of the business by that point. And we also had to relocate our manufactory onto the island, which was something I was responsible for as well. Since Rimaq is my guardian, I would have needed his permission to go to war. Even if I had run away in secret, I would never have been allowed to enlist. So there was nothing I could do. I couldn't go, so I had to stay."

Chapter 425 - Partner in Crime

"Killari! How good to see you!" Alcer shouted, happy to meet his friend again after more than half a year.

Back in the day, the two of them had been comrades, who had fought together during the war against the central kingdom. However, ever since Killari had his leg injured in the war, he had been forced to retire from the army. As a result, they hadn't met since the start of the war.

Though despite his injury, Killari had at least found new work as a police officer. Even now, he wore the uniform of Saniya's protectors, or harassers, depending on who was asked. Though if those two — protectors and harassers — were established camps within the police, then Killari would clearly be part of the latter.

"You're late," the policeman complained towards his good friend. "You're late and now my knee hurts again."

As always, Killari was grumpy and rude. After all, Alcer was exactly on time, according to the large clock that had recently been installed on the bridge's guard tower. Not to mention, according to Killari's character, he wouldn't have arrived here more than a few minutes ago. Still, arguing wouldn't get him anywhere, so he just obediently apologized like he was expected to.

"Haha, sorry about that. I'll buy you a drink later, so please forgive me," Alcer said while slapping the policeman's shoulder.

"Hmph, didn't think our great hero even drank."

Although Killari's face finally showed a smile, his words were still rude. Alcer was unsure if his friend was jealous of his success, or unhappy that he hadn't contacted him until he needed something. Maybe it was just his usual, grumpy demeanor. Either way, his time wouldn't be best spent with an analysis of his friend's character. Instead, he used his trusted method of switching topics.

"Quite the weather we're having today, huh?"

"Yeah, though I heard it might rain later today."

After his reply, Killari belted out a laugh loud enough to attract attention from the passersby around them. Meanwhile, Alcer tried to force a laugh as well, despite the oddly familiar joke. Despite the hero's conflicting feelings, it seemed like the policeman was now finally in a better mood, so it was time to broach the main subject.

"Since it's about to rain, we best get out of the way before we get wet," Alcer said, although his clothes were already soaked from the constant drizzle. "You said you had organized a meeting?"

"That's right. I found the guy you wanted, and told him to meet us in an ale house half an hour ago." Again, Killari laughed, this time with a malicious look on his face. "I like having others wait for me. Doesn't that kind of stuff make you feel important?"

So that's why you were mad at me, Alcer realized when he saw Killari's grin. You just thought I'd be too early as usual. His friend was still as petty as ever.

"In that case, we'd better get going," Alcer said and stretched out his hand to help Killari stand up straight.

"Don't rush an invalid, great hero."

Rather than accept Alcer's goodwill, the policeman brushed aside the helping hand and stood up by himself. When his injured leg touched the ground, he let out a groan that made Alcer nervous. Yet his face never showed pain. In fact, as he made his way towards the bridge, he was walking surprisingly quickly, despite his limp.

"So you're sure this guy is good enough?" Alcer asked, trying to make conversation. For some reason, Killari didn't use his friend's words of doubt to complain this time.

"You wanted to find a blacksmith, right? Well, this guy's learned from the best," he said instead. "Whatever kind of blade you want to make, he is your man."

While Killari spoke, he showed some papers to the guards at the bridge, who waved the two of them through.

"You owe me more than just one favor, by the way," the policeman continued as he put the paper back into his pocket. "I got in debt with a lot of people to arrange this."

Of course Alcer knew this was an exaggeration. Even so, finding someone on the king's islands, and then bringing someone unrelated over there in a private matter, wasn't something that could be done by just anybody. Surely, Killari had needed to call in a few favors of his own to make today's meeting happen.

Thus, Alcer obediently replied: "As always, I'm forever in your debt."

Back during the war, Killari had already saved him more than once. Of course, Alcer was also the one who got his friend his current position with the police, but that wasn't something worth mentioning among friends.

"You better believe you are," Killari scoffed, though he was smiling again, which probably meant that he was only half serious. "Oh, and when you meet the guy later, you should be prepared. He's a weird one, but I can guarantee his skills."

"You've already said that twice now," Alcer noticed. "What's so great about him?"

"He's the former chief apprentice of Master Asiro, the boss of the steel mill. Why do you think we're meeting him on the king's islands?"

This news was a pleasant surprise. Master Asiro was a well-known figure in the city. His mass-produced weapons had created the royal army, he had received the highest honors in the kingdom's first ever victory celebrations, and he was even a friend to the king, if rumors were to be believed.

The disciple of such a man would surely be outstanding as well. As the two friends crossed the Lightning Bridge, Alcer could barely contain his anticipation.

__________________________

Apart from Rapra Castle itself, almost all the buildings on the islands around it had been built only in the last few years. Thus, just like everything else on the king's islands, the ale house called 'The Tipsy Tradesmen' was brand new, squeaky clean, and brightly lit. Only a single drunkard slumped in the corner sullied the interior's pristine look.

Since the bright, open room was very easy to parse, Alcer didn't have a hard time finding their target. Apart from the drunkard, there were a few tradesmen in the middle of the room, noisily celebrating something or other, while another couple of young and old sat at the counter, either master and apprentice or father and son.

Beyond them, there was only the drunkard, as well as a young man with long, auburn hair, freckles and a small burn scar on his left cheek. The young man sat a bit aside from the tumultuous fun in the center of the room. If Alcer wasn't completely mistaken, this was the guy they were looking for.

"There's our man," Killari confirmed. "Let's go."

Yet before the two could get close, the freckled target jumped up and raised his hands.

"It wasn't me, officer. Honest," he shouted. However, Killari didn't seem interested in apprehending the suspect.

"Very funny," he just scoffed, before he turned to his friend. "Alcer, this is Mallku, trained metalworker and former chief apprentice to Master Asiro. Cheeky kid, this is Alcer, former army ensign and sharpshooter."

Maybe he had realized that no one would react to his joke, but Mallku simply let his hands fall onto the table as he plopped back down on his chair.

"So you are the famous hero this policer has been talking about so much?" he asked towards Alcer.

"Has he?" the former hero asked, while giving a gloating look to his friend. Wasn't Killari just too shy to admit how much he cared? In response to the tender moment, the policeman took a step back, with a face as if he had eaten a fly.

"Looks like I should get going," he said in a brisk tone. "You two have fun."

"You don't want to stay?" Alcer asked back. He hadn't wanted to drive his friend away with his joke. "I still owe you that drink."

However, Killari shook his head.

"No need. Better not have any outsiders here. You two have to talk about private business, right?"

"We do," Alcer confirmed. "But I thought maybe you wanted to join my venture as well. I mean, you know a lot of people from your time in the police, and I could need someone reliable in my new company."

"No to that, too." Again, Killari shook his head, though now he was smiling again, and he didn't even have to insult anyone to get there. "I like being police. I can harass people I don't like, and I can tell everyone what to do. My kind of work. If you're so desperate for more help, why not ask Kichka? That guy hasn't been doing so well these days."

Back during Alcer's time on the Verdant Isles, Kichka had been one of his subordinates. Most of his troop had died in the horrible jungles back then, but Kichka had made it all the way through somehow. Since he hadn't seen the guy in a while, maybe this was a good excuse to make contact again. While he was still thinking about his former subordinate, Killari had already turned and left towards the exit.

"Thanks for the tip," Alcer called after his friend, but he only snorted and left the ale house without looking back. While Alcer was still confused about his friend's inscrutable demeanor, the voice of Mallku interrupted his thoughts.

"That guy's always so grumpy," the young blacksmith joked. "Why can't he just confess?"

"Huh?" Alcer shot back, even more confused now.

"Anyway, I expect an invitation to your marriage." Before Alcer could even consider whether the blacksmith's words had been a joke or an insult, Mallku switched topics yet again. "Have a seat. I've already had two wines while I was waiting for you, so you have a lot of catching up to do."

Only now did Alcer realize that the table was filled with tankards. While Mallku held one that was almost entirely full, Another three stood on Alcer's side of the table, filled to the brim. Although it would only be light wine this early in the morning, his mind would still fog up if he had to drink all of that at once.

"I'd rather we get to business right away," Alcer thus deflected, and placed the blanket under his arm on the table. "Once we come to an agreement, we'll still have plenty of time to celebrate."

"So that means you pay for the wine, right?" Mallku said, focused on the wrong thing.

"If we come to an agreement," Alcer stressed, as he rolled out the blanket. For now, he put the pieces of paper to the side, and picked up the bayonet instead. Once the shoddily made sheath was removed, he carefully presented his future towards Mallku.

"What's this, some kind of spear tip? What's with the ring? Why is it all crooked?"

As soon as the blacksmith took up the weapon, he began to inspect it from every angle while asking rapid-fire questions. Rather than answer them one by one, Alcer thought it would be faster if he simply explained everything from the beginning.

"It's a bayonet," he opened as he finally sat down in front of his three tankards. "I spent a lot of money to have it custom made by one of your fellow blacksmiths."

Although it was a bayonet, it looked nothing like the ones that were in use today. Rather than a straight spear tip with a blunt shaft at the end, the iron right behind the blade made two ninety degree turns, before ending in a metal ring. Since it was custom made, this prototype meant for his patent presentation hadn't been cheap.

"Well, if you spent a lot, you've been ripped off. It's shoddy work." Mallku casually disrespected his efforts as he ran his thumb over the blade's edge. "Anyways, I thought bayonets had more of a nub at the end, so you can shove or screw the thing into the barrel."

"This is an improved model," Alcer explained. "The ring at the end goes over the barrel, rather than inside it. That means the barrel remains unobstructed. You can even fire the weapon with the bayonet still attached. Although reloading is a bit cumbersome that way, it can be attached in preparation of a charge or defensive brace. Even better, this bayonet is far easier to install than the old version. On a chaotic battlefield full of nervous soldiers, that is an invaluable benefit."

"Huh," Mallku just said before he sank into thought for a while. Even now, it was impossible to tell if he was impressed by or dismissive of Alcer's invention, but at least he had stopped joking around. Finally, he put down the prototype and looked at his would-be employer.

"And you want me to find a way to mass-produce this," he concluded. Now that he was working, it seemed all his jovial manner had disappeared.

"That's right. Can you do it?"

Again, Mallku thought for a second, as he took another sip of his wine.

"Sure." Finally, he nodded. "Just give me some time, and money. I'm the second best metalworker in Saniya, so you don't have to worry about anything else."

That doesn't sound reassuring from a man who's drinking in the morning.

Now that Alcer had recruited his man, he thought it was time to test him in turn.

"Not to be rude-" he thus began, before he was rudely interrupted.

"You're about to ask something rude, right?" Mallku shot back, but Alcer was undeterred.

"-but if you are the second best metalworker here, why are you working with me? I thought you were working for Master Asiro."

"Well, the steel mill is miserably hot." Mallku simply argued with a laugh and another sip. "And the old man has been nagging me for a while to 'stop slacking off'. So here I am, doing some challenging work on my own initiative. To be honest, the old steel working job was getting boring too, so it was high time for a change of scenery."

Although the explanation wasn't really that convincing to Alcer, he didn't have time to question the talkative blacksmith further. Before he could, he was already the one to face more questions.

"I can definitely set up a manufacturing line for you, and I guarantee I'll be motivated since I have a point to prove. But do you even have the money you'd need for all this? I heard from the policer that you want to build a proper manufactory, right? A big one?"

"That's right," Alcer agreed. Up until yesterday, the topic of money would have embarrassed him. Today however, he could answer with his head held high. "I don't have the money for now, but I will soon. I was at the Tasa Bank yesterday, and they gave me some pretty promising conditions for a loan."

Again, Mallku looked up from his tankard, shock written in his face.

"That's a surprise," he said. "I mean, aren't they well-known known for rejecting people? To me, this plan of yours seems pretty risky. What if you can't sell this thing? What if someone just steals your bayonet and makes it cheaper?"

Rather than get annoyed at Mallku's suspicion, Alcer felt proud that he had managed to solve all of these problems before he ever considered production.

"Once we set up a manufactory that lets us build the bayonets at a decent price and sufficient quality, sales won't be a problem. I know a lot of people in the army. And no one who's fought in the last war is happy with their current bayonets, so it'll be easy to get this model in the hands of the right people and approved for purchase. They're rebuilding the army right now, so it's the perfect time to introduce new equipment, too. As for stealing the design, I already have a patent on it, so you don't have to worry about that."

As he spoke, Alcer handed a copy of his approved patent to Mallku, who put down his tankard and started to read.

"Anyways," Alcer continued in the meantime. "The Tasa people told me that they'll give me the money I need once I have a concrete plan for mass-production. That's why I'm here today. As soon as you make me a proper plan and an estimate on our expected cost, I can bring it all to the bank. They'll get me the money, and then I can start building my business."

As Alcer laid bare his plans for the future, his chest swelled with pride. However, in spite of his earlier zeal, Mallku just lowered the paper and stared at him intently.

"Hmmm..." he hummed as he leaned on the desk, seemingly in deep thought.

"What?" Alcer asked, put off by the strange behavior.

"Do you have anyone doing your administration for you?" the blacksmith finally asked.

"No, our business won't be large to start, so I will personally handle that part at first," Alcer quickly replied. To be fair, he hadn't thought that far yet.

"You're underestimating the work quite a bit. I've seen how many paper pushers we need in our steel mill, and your own workshop will be pretty big too, at least if you want to produce for the whole army."

"Then I'll just look for an administrator after we've started construction," Alcer offered a solution. "Those shouldn't be hard to find once I have money, right?"

"Actually..." Mallku drew out his word, and finally a grin returned to his face. "I know a guy who can help you with both the administration, and with your money troubles. You won't even need the bank's coin to get started."

Although the blacksmith's smile had begun to look a bit sinister to Alcer, he still couldn't resist and asked: "Oh? In that case, could you maybe introduce him to me?"

"No problem, that's easy."

Before Alcer could react, Mallku turned towards the drunkard in the corner and shouted across the room.

"Hey Kyunya! Get your drunk ass over here! There's a guy here who'll listen to your rambling!"

Hermit's Notes: More familiar faces.

While writing this chapter I remembered that Alcer has been promoted to ensign in book 6, so I corrected the previous chapter.

Chapter 424 - Dreams

The sharp smell of gunpowder covered his nose, like a snowy blanket over his surroundings. A constant, steady noise filled his ears, like endless waves made by humans and machines. The brown mud of the trenches and the light gray of the insurmountable walls in the distance drew in his eyes, like an inescapable whirlpool. His entire being was enveloped by familiar senses.

Alcer was back on the battlefield.

Confused, he stared around, while his cold, wet, dirty hands clutched around his rifle's stock, the familiar weapon held close to his chest in vain comfort. Suddenly, a sense of danger erupted and made all the hairs on his body stand up at once. Somewhere in front of him, atop that cursed wall, he could feel a familiar, malicious gaze filled with evil intent, filled with thoughts of vengeance. He knew, at the end of the gaze was a black arrow, aimed straight at his heart.

Terrified, Alcer dropped down, back behind the protection of his trench. His heart pounded all the way through his chest and back. His spine transferred every single heartbeat into the cold earth it was pressed against. His fingers were shaking like leafs in the wind, from the cold, or from fear.

He couldn't shoot like this, his aim would be no good. So before anything else, he had to calm down. Like he had practiced so many times, he drew a deep breath of the cold, dirty air, to ease his heartbeat and his shaking fingers.

However, before he could come to a rest, he felt another gaze. Another arrow aimed straight at his heart, to his left.

There aren't even enemies there. Where did they come from?

Still, he had no time to think. Though his hands still shook, he ran through the trench and hid behind a corner, to escape the second gaze. Yet this time, he hadn't even sat down when he felt a third from the right, and then another from the back, even one from above. Thus he continued to run through the labyrinthian trenches of the battlefield, in search of protection. Yet no matter where he turned, he never felt save. Wherever he went in his frantic escape, the eyes were watching him, arrows ready to shoot.

I can't keep running! he suddenly remembered. I have to save my comrades!

Yes, he was responsible for saving the entire army. The fortune of his life-and-death-companions on the front line depended on him alone. His mission came first, so the fear would have to wait.

Thus, despite the fear, he finally stood up straight and looked over the trenches. Immediately, he could feel dozens of gazes upon him, all accompanied by an arrow, all with intent to kill.

As best he could, he ignored the feeling and raised his rifle. This was a movement he had performed countless times, something he was intimately familiar with. The routine gave him comfort. All he had to do was search for an enemy officer, and then pull the trigger. An easy task, even in his poor state.

Thus, he ignored his beating heart and looked towards the front line. Up ahead, between the trench and the wall, his fellow men were fighting and dying, desperately trying to hold back the monsters they called warriors, as they ripped through their ranks.

Have to be quick, or it's too late!

With routine eyes, he scanned the lines of the beasts for targets. Almost immediately he could spot an officer, with armor expensive enough to buy Alcer's life, and the lives of another ten men like him. Somehow he knew: all he had to do was take him down and he would rob the charge of its momentum.

He ignored the jitter in his hands, breathed out, and fired, the same as always. However, this time, the target at the end of his shot did not go down like he expected.

Missed.

Still, Alcer had to remain calm. Again he took aim, this time with more care. Again he fired, yet again he missed. Shot after shot left his rifle, yet he couldn't hit the officer, not once. He changed targets, but the results were the same, his bullets simply sank into the enemy's lines like a pebble into the sea.

By now his fellow men had been completely overrun. At such close range, normal people had no chance against these monsters.

Desperately, they tried to fit their bayonets into the barrels of their rifles, yet one by one they failed. Some saw their bayonets crumble in their hands, or they wouldn't fit, or the men would get killed before they could finish the complex operation.

Soon, all Alcer could see was the red blood gushing from their bodies, and all he could do was stand there an watch, helpless. More and more the blood rose, until his entire vision was a sea of red, covering even the evil wall, and the sky beyond. Before he knew it, the red was above him, a giant tidal wave of blood that came crashing down onto his frail, mortal body. Before he could even scream, the wave broke, right over Alcer's head, and then everything went dark.

__________________________


A scream awoke Alcer before he realized that it had been his own. His heart was racing, eager to jump out of his throat. Confused, he looked around the familiar room, the cheap wooden floorboards that creaked with every step, the tiny window without any window panes, and the hard bed with the itchy blankets which were in complete disorder after a night of tossing and turning. Finally, as he recognized more and more of his surroundings, the panic began to subside.

Just a dream.

He was home, and he had been home for quite some time now. It had been two months since he had left the battlefield, yet the battlefield had never left him.

Even so, he couldn't get hung up on these things. From what he had heard, others had suffered far worse than him after their return from the war. Compared to them, who were still part of the army reserves, he would never have to return to the battlefield again. Of that, he would make sure.

As his hazy memories drove off the horrors of last night, he recalled that today was a big day for him. Finally, he would be able to move one step closer to his dream: His own business, and enough money to live a comfortable life and start a family.

For the past several years, he had dedicated his life, and risked his body, for his king and his country, one dangerous battle at a time. He had fought in northern Medala, in the south, and even on the distant Verdant Isles with its inscrutable jungles. In the process, he had achieved many great things, and the little dock hand Alcer had turned into a ensign and hero. Over the past months, he had made good use of the rewards he had received for his achievements. Today was the day all of his sacrifices would finally pay off, the day he was determined to turn his fortune around.

As he thought of his plans for the day, he swiftly washed his face and body in a basin of cold water next to his bed. Briefly, the cold, wet cloth reminded him of his uniform during the worst parts of the war, but he pushed the thought aside. Instead, he quickly wore his best clothes — the ones without holes in them — packed a stack of rolled-up documents as well as an unusual bayonet into his old blanket, and made his way out of his house.

I've dreamed of bayonets again, Alcer realized during his preparations. Better get this over with quickly. All this worry is only making the dreams worse.

With a much calmer heart and a tinge of hope, he stepped out into the rainy courtyard. With the blanket still under his left, he pulled his collar closed with his right and stepped out of his little yard. Luckily, he didn't need a third hand to open the door, since his yard was always open, just like most yards in this neighborhood.

"Good morning, Ensign Alcer," he heard as soon as he stepped outside. From across the street, a man with gray hair along his temples and a permanent smile on his face waved at him from within his own yard, his own door open as well, of course.

"Good morning, Chief Machao," Alcer shouted back. "I am not a ensign anymore. I quit, remember?"

"Haha, to us, you will always be the ensign. You are the hero of the neighborhood!"

From the chief who represented the neighborhood, those were big words. After all, their chief even had the right to send complaints and proposals to the royal offices directly. In this regard, all neighborhoods of Saniya were unique. Some chiefs were elected by all neighbors, others simply filled the position with the patriarch of the largest family in the block. There were as many different regulations as there were communities. Though in this case, Hakumuy neighborhood had picked Machao to represent them. In fact, Machao had left the community shortly after the miracle king had taken his throne, presumably to do some secretive work for him. What kind of secret work a potter could do for a king Alcer didn't know, but it was a fact that Machao had lived on Saniya's three islands for a while, and had only returned a year ago.

Thus, the high praise from the respectable old man with connections to Rapra Castle made Alcer uncomfortable, so he awkwardly changed topics.

"Quite the weather we're having today, huh?"

"Yes, though I heard it might rain later today."

For a resident of Saniya, the current drizzle could hardly be described as rain. Though Alcer laughed at the lame joke, he realized that he had run out of things to say again. Before things could get too awkward, the neighborhood chief proved his savvy again, and picked up another topic.

"So what are you doing today? Off to the patent office again?" Machao asked.

Alcer showed a genuine smile. He knew that the chief cared about the success of all the residents here. Together with his cautious nature, it was the main reason he had been voted chief. "No, they finally sent their reply yesterday. Today, I am off to start my business."

Alcer had been more surprised than anyone at how quickly his application had made it through Saniya's patent office. His idea had been fast tracked through the process. As a result, he had been able to present his invention in person two weeks ago already. Even approval had come swiftly, and without any trouble. Since yesterday, he was already the proud owner of a registered patent in the royal patent office.

Though of course, he didn't know how far he would have made it without help from the veteran's office. The veteran's office was a new institution in the kingdom. It had been established after the war, apparently to help decommissioned veterans smoothly return to society. For the most part, it would act as an intermediary to help find work for those soldiers who hadn't learned a trade before the war, and didn't have a place to return.

However, the office had also helped Alcer in his quest for his own business. In fact, their help had been invaluable so far, and in the future, they would help even further.

With their support, he was now only two steps away from his dream. First, he needed the means to mass-produce his patent, and then the money to start the business in the first place. Yesterday, he had begun work on the latter step. Today, with some luck, he would completely take care of the former.

After some more small talk, the chief finally let Alcer go.

"Then I will not keep you. Good luck in your endeavors, Ensign," he said. "Don't forget your neighbors once you are rich and successful."

"I would never dare, or old Anka would chase me across the city with her broom. Please let me invite you to a drink tonight, then I can tell you how it all went."

After a wave, he excused himself and made his way through their neighborhood. This was a place he had lived in for a long time, ever since before the rule of the miracle king. However, back then, 'neighborhood' hadn't been an official term yet, though that had changed with Saniya's full reconstruction.

One of the king's first measures in the face of Saniya's growing population had been to tear down the city defenses. Every seven hundred meters or so, the wall had been broken through to make way for wide and smooth roads, which the citizens now called promenades. These promenades led either along the Mayura River, or towards it, and in the process had eroded away more and more of Saniya's former protection. Only several shorter sections still stood witness to the city's old outer wall, making way for the new face of the city.

These wide roads divided the city into many, equally sized square areas. Each square had been decreed as one neighborhood by the king's order. While every neighborhood would have to adhere to the laws and regulations of the city as a whole, they still had considerable freedom within the borders of their own little community. For example, the layout of buildings, and what sort of businesses to allow within their borders, were all an internal matter of the neighborhoods. Thus, no two neighborhoods looked exactly alike, all constructed by the will of its inhabitants.

All in all, the neighborhoods operated with similar autonomy to villages in the countryside. Of course, Alcer didn't understand any of the political considerations for such action from the king.

For him, this place simply made him feel at home. He had been living on this block for many years. The people here knew him, and he knew the people. Their Hakumuy neighborhood, with its towering poplar trees and picturesque, one-story houses with the arced layout, was always a calming sight to him.

The support from his neighbors had also helped him immensely after his return from the war. He couldn't even imagine how some of the others were handling their return without such support. Still, he wouldn't linger here for long, since he had arranged a meeting for today. He had to hurry or he would be late.

Once Alcer had left his neighborhood, he turned north onto one of Saniya's many new promenades. These roads were all unreasonably wide, with plenty of greenery along the paths, so much so that they felt like a piece of nature in the middle of the city.

According to some higher-ups in the army, these wide roads were mostly there to guarantee smooth troop movements throughout the city in case of war or rebellion, though he had also heard some business people complain about the waste of space. Even so, these very same businessmen made good use of what space was available.

The sides of these roads were often lined with their shops and businesses. Alcer himself had often walked down these roads and dreamed of a day when he would also have his own little space there. To him, a walk down the promenades had always lifted his spirits. Now, however, things were a bit different.

Ever since the end of the war, the face of the city had transformed considerably. A large number of people were about on the promenades, far more than before. Worst off, they didn't seem in a hurry to leave.

Some were eyeing passers-bye, clearly with evil intent, while others simply sat there and begged for the coin in his pocket. The destruction of Kapra and Antila had brought with them a massive influx of people, both good and bad. Apparently, the city was really aching under all the additional load. Alcer could tell that they were foreigners, since they were all huddled together under trees and overhangs to escape the iconic Saniya drizzle.

From a friend, Alcer had heard that violent crime within the city was up considerably. Now that he thought of him, it was already time for Alcer to meet up with this friend of his. Luckily, their meeting place was coming up immediately.

At the end of his journey, Alcer reached Saniya's Lightning Bridge, the only bridge leading onto the island of Sillu. It was the westernmost in the chain of three islands within the delta of the Mayura River.

Normally, these islands were off limits to ordinary citizens. Only inhabitants could enter this place, and those were an exclusive group. Only officials working in the castle, the workers of the king's most valuable manufactories placed within the islands, and the royal family of the miracle king himself were allowed on the bridge most days. Now that he thought about it, this exclusivity made the unassuming Chief Machao seem even more impressive. Someone ordinary like Alcer couldn't compare at all.

Luckily, today would be an exception. Today, Alcer would cross this bridge for the first time since the chaos of last year's winter solstice. In fact, the one who would make all this possible was already waiting for him. Leaned against the post of the road to put the weight off his bum leg was his old friend and greatest critic, who looked in Alcer's direction with that never-ending scowl on his face. Since his friend had come early, Alcer decided to greet him early to prevent the expected complaints.

"Killari!" he shouted halfway on his way to the policeman. "How good to see you!"


Hermit's Notes: 

Fun to rediscover all these characters. I wonder how many of you remember these ones? Alcer and Killari should be possible, but Machao is a bit of a throwback.

On a more serious note, Book 7 will have a more complex structure, with interlocking, individual stories set over a long period of time, at least that's the plan. So it's possible that some chapters will switch positions after I've already posted them.

Chapter 423 - Budget Proposal and Short-Term Plans

As the budgetary meeting continued, Corco got increasingly upset by their weak financial situation. Why had he spent so many years improving his country's income when they still ran out as soon as he wanted to spend a little. Annoyed, he questioned Brym. Surely, his money-hungry ward was exaggerating their problems.

"I don't see how we have so little money," the king began. "I know the war was expensive, but it's not like we won't have any money coming in for next year. I mean, we now control an additional ten noble estates directly. Surely, that would massively improve our income too, right?"

However, Brym quickly dashed Corco's hopes.

"It's true that we have also significantly increased the total territory under the crown's control. That alone will lead to a sharp increase in revenue, but that will only manifest in the long-term as well. Nominally, those territories are still in the hands of the local lords. Although we can press some wealth from them in the form of taxes, and we can probably gain some of their grain harvest, it's not harvest season yet. Until then, controlling these lands will also be accompanied by some costs, which means that we won't have much left to spend on frivolous projects."

"I don't think we have any frivolous projects planned," Corco complained. "Everything we've decided on so far is absolutely necessary."

By now, the king sounded more stubborn than determined. Even so, the stingy Brym remained steadfast in the face of his big brother's desperation. One by one, he listed off all expenses on his fingers.

"We are already committed to rebuilding Kapra and Antila, as well as taking care of all the refugees from the two cities. In addition, we have plans to further strengthen the navy to deal with the situation on the Verdant Isles. Then there is the planned reorganization of the army, which will come with significant costs, even with the previous compromise suggested by Fadelio. On top of that we have the extensive infrastructure projects we've planned, including free public schools in all our new territories, as well as new highways and beacon towers to Port Ulta and a connection through the midland hills from Kapra to Anticasa in the north and Rufalasta in the south. Today alone, we have also added more administrative cost through Queen Sumaci's new subsidies for farmers. Even with our increased funds, and even if we add no more policies and encounter no emergencies throughout the year, we do not have the financial means to afford everything. At the current pace, I estimate that we will run out of financial reserves by late autumn or early winter. At that point, we will either have to start printing money or sell our precious metal reserves, both of which could collapse our currency. Instead, I believe it is more prudent to reduce spending. At least a few of these plans need to be cut or delayed, or the kingdom's next winter will be a catastrophe."

In response, the king frowned deeply and leaned forward. His elbow on his desk, he began to tap his lip as he thought deeply. These issues were too severe, and not something he could just brush away with another casual order. Brym was certainly exaggerating a few things, but most of what he said had to be the truth. Since Brym had spent most of the war in his finance division, or in the central bank, he knew more about this topic than anyone else. Corco had no reason to distrust his assessment. They really were running out of money.

Faced with such a reality, Corco was in a dilemma. All these projects were necessary early steps for their future development, so the king really couldn't cut any of them without affecting their next course of action. Of course, further printing of money was out of the question. He didn't want to turn his shiny new paper currency into Zimbabwe dollars after all.

So, since both choices offered by Brym were impossible, he came up with the only remaining solution to the problem.

"Right," he finally said after coming to a conclusion. When he looked back up, the entire room was staring at him with bated breath. Still, the best the king could offer for now was the obvious: "Anyone got any ideas on how to increase our revenue then? Short-term solutions preferred."

"We could always blackmail the rebellious lords some more. They still have plenty of money left, and no more power to resist us."

The first suggestion came from Sumaci, a true pirate's idea.

"No," Corco denied without a second thought. "If we squeeze the lords too hard, they won't cooperate and it'll be harder to take over their territories. Also, our allied lords will become nervous too."

"The most obvious solution would be additional taxes," Fadelio tried.

"Or we could try issuing some bonds," Brym added. Immediately, the king's face lit up. Maybe there was hope yet for the southern kingdom's minister of finance.

"I like the idea of bonds," the king said. Although bonds were something no country in the world had ever done, Corco had taught the basics of finance to Brym, so his ward was well aware of the concept. With the issuance of bonds, the government would essentially borrow money from their citizens. In their current situation, it was akin to a spring of wealth. Though once his head cooled down a bit, Corco realized the limitations of the idea.

"Still, it'll be the first time we do something like this. The people won't be familiar with it, so they won't be too enthusiastic."

"Yes, we certainly won't be able to fill our entire shortfall with just bonds," Brym conceded.

"Still, it's better than nothing," Corco said. "Make a plan for the issuance. Since it's the first time, we need to be careful, especially in terms of marketing. Apart from that, it seems like our only choice is a tax raise, if no one has any better ideas. Though we can't just raise our taxes blindly. First, we'll have to assess what can, and should be taxed. I want a detailed report on my desk as soon as possible. Only tax things we want to disincentivise, don't tax anything just because it would make us a lot of money."

This was a common problem with governments that Corco wanted to avoid. For example, if they just raised taxes for the country's farmers, they would immediately fill in their financial shortfall and even have plenty left over. However, they wanted to attract new farmers into the countryside at the moment, and such a tax would achieve the opposite.

Thus, while taxes were certainly the best method to solve their money problems, they came with their own host of issues. It would take weeks to assess possible plans until they could work out a proper policy. Just when it looked like they wouldn't come to any results today, Fadelio spoke up again.

"Actually, I believe there is a fast method to raise a lot of funds in the short term, without harming our long-term plans." As soon as he said it, the king's attendant and prime minister drew the attention of the entire room. "It pertains the matter I already mentioned earlier, the problem I have discovered before."

"Out with it then," the king said, impatiently grasping at the offered straw.

"At once." Fadelio seemed to collect his thoughts a bit and flipped through his notes, before he finally spoke up again. "When I returned to Saniya, I read through some reports and noticed that the profits and production volumes for several of our manufactories have gone down. I made some spot checks already, and it seems like many of them are running at low efficiency. For now though, I have yet to find the exact reason."

"Then just get more people to supervise, and our income will be up immediately," Sumaci said.

"We don't have enough officials already, remember?" This time, Corco was the one to dash everyone's hopes. However, he wasn't discouraged. Rather, he felt like he already knew what the problem was, and where the solution lay. Although he thought they could wait a bit longer for this monumental step, now was as good a time as any, and they really needed the money. Though before he could come to a final decision, Fadelio explained further to make up Corco's mind.

"There's also a limit to how much we can supervise in the first place," Fadelio added. "After all, demand for our products increases every year. At a certain size, these businesses just become too unwieldy to control completely. That leads to poor efficiency and corruption in unseen places. At least that's my working theory for the problems. As a result, I believe it would be for the best if we simply sold all nonperforming manufactories to private citizens. This way, we would immediately solve all of our money problems, and since the profits from these businesses are poor, our long-term revenue would barely be affected."

For a while, everyone was silent, all with their own thoughts. Antaya would surely consider the risks involved to Saniya's security should manufactories in some places change hands. As always, Sumaci would think about ways to implement similar ideas in her own kingdom. Meanwhile, Brym just stood there, empty shock on his face. However, although Corco knew that this next decision would be a heavy blow to his young ward, he still did what had to be done.

"In that case, I guess it's decided. From today on, we will stop trying to be merchants."

This time, Brym stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, searching for words of protest. Yet before he could gather a coherent thought, Corco spoke up again.

"I know what you're thinking," he preempted the complaints. "In Arcavia, we went through too much and fought too hard to reestablish master's merchant company. Throwing that away seems like an insult to my master, and to your father. But we're a country now. we can't keep operating like a merchant company."

Of course he knew what these words meant to Brym. When he was still just a kid, his father was unjustly murdered and robbed of his life's achievements. All the old Gerrit Fastgrade had left behind for his son had been the merchant company under his name, or what had been left of it. Now, Corco was asking him to give up the last token of his dead father. Though of course, Brym's guardian wouldn't really be so cruel.

"Don't worry, we won't have to give up everything," he said. "We'll still retain the stores around Medala, as well as all of our high-profit manufactories, at least. I was your father's student too, so I won't just let his name die."

After Corco's reassurance, Brym looked better almost immediately.

"And sooner or later, this step became inevitable," the king continued his explanation. "As any business grows larger, it also becomes more unwieldy. just like Fadelio said. Apart from inefficiencies due to interlocking processes, the more we profit, the more incentives those at the bottom have to skim off the top. To fix either problem, we'd need ever more supervisors to stay efficient and to keep everyone in line. Though of course, those supervisors could just be inefficient or corrupt themselves, so we need even more to supervise the supervisors. Eventually, we'll reach a limit and become unprofitable. It seems like we've now reached the limit of our state-owned production model, so it's time to transform."

"I understand," Brym finally said. He sounded a lot more composed than Corco had thought, and even offered a small smile. "In that case, I will make a comprehensive list of all our companies and get rid of all non-performing assets. There's plenty of private businesses in Saniya already. Most are just small, private workshops, but there's already a few privately owned manufactories. Surely, many of our citizens will be eager to snap up our large shops as soon as they are on offer."

"Yeah. You should talk to Fadelio and the people in the industrial division about the details. Don't rush into it, our money problems aren't that pressing just yet. However, make sure that you don't include essential industries in your list."

"I am not sure I am familiar with the term," Brym said.

"I assume that it would include anything related to warfare, like the steel mill and weapons manufactories," Sumaci explained. After all, she was also one of Corco's students. As a former princess, her classes had been more focused on power politics, so she was familiar with the concept. "Since the crown is at its most vulnerable during a war we'd be easy to exploit and our costs would explode If we had to buy our weapons from a private company at that time."

"Not only weapons and steel production, essential industries also include food production and finance," Corco added. "'Essential' means anything a private citizen could use to blackmail or even control the government under the wrong circumstances."

Immediately, Brym uncerstood.

"So I guess that was the main reason why we built the central bank," he said, before Corco concluded the argument:

"And that's why both it and the mint will always remain fully owned by the government."

Finally, some harmony had returned to the room. Their biggest problem had been solved, and everyone seemed to have a unified vision of their future. However, there was still a single discordant voice remaining.

"This all appears excessive," Antaya said, once again with a bowed head despite the earlier reprimand. "So what if these commoners take advantage of war and make some money? In the worst case, they will be rich, but what can they do with their ill-gotten wealth? As long as they live in this kingdom, they will be in our hands."

"In the short-term, that may be true," Corco said. "But money is power after all, and our constitution and written law guarantee the security of all our citizens' property. So we can't just take their stuff without justification, if you were implying that. In any system, wealth and power will eventually accumulate more and more, in the hands of very few. That's because more money breeds more power, and more power breeds more money. So eventually, the country will be run by a handful of people who have accumulated all the power and wealth in their hands. At that point, the country no longer serves the benefit of its people, and it no longer operates to make itself stronger. Instead, it will only serve the interests of a select few, to the detriment of everyone else. By that point, the country isn't far from collapse."

"In that case, we could simply monitor these rich and powerful men," Antaya still argued, a smirk on her face. "Everyone has a dark secret they wish to hide, these greedy people more than most. We can use these secrets to control them with ease. Thus, please rely on the ghost warriors to do this work for you, my king."

Once she was done with her sales pitch, Antaya's bow became even deeper. However, Corco wasn't impressed.

"I'd rather not spy on my own people if I can avoid it," he said.

And I don't want to give too much power to my secret service either. In the end, it'd just be you with all the power.

"It's not a pressing issue anyways," Corco said instead of his true thoughts. "These processes of accumulation happen slowly, over many generations. Most likely, no one in this room will live to see this power imbalance ever become a problem. However, I'd rather not have my ideal country collapse a hundred years after my death. That's why I want to implement some measures to handle the issue now, since we still can at this point."

"So there are solutions to this rule?" an inquisitive Sumaci asked.

"Of course there are," Corco replied ion a smug voice, happy to act as a teacher again after a long time. "For now, our societal structure is still pretty flat, so we can implement all kinds of measures against this accumulation before any private citizen becomes too powerful to trouble us over it. Apart from retaining a controlling stake in essential industries, there's a number of other solutions as well. Since we have a lot of time though, there's no reason to implement everything all at once. Still, some ideas fit neatly into our short-term policies. First off, let me tell you all about worker cooperatives."

Thus, through the small meeting of a few people, the kingdom's future took shape, to influence the lives of millions.

__________________________


Year-End Summary

Name: Kingdom of Southern Medala

Year: 6th Strife

Population: 4.15m (+6.25%)

-----Royal Territory: 225,000

Income: 29.8m Sila

-----Seigniorage: 9.2m Sila

-----Grain and Agriculture: 7.1m Sila

-----Direct Trade From State-owned Businesses: 7.8m Sila

-----Tariffs: 2.4m Sila

-----Other: 3.3m Sila

Treasury: 8.46m Sila

Precious Metal Reserves: 55.2 tons of silver

Debt Ratio: 0%

Standing Troops: 12k commoners

-----Reserves: 18k commoners, 16k warriors

Steel Production: 230 tons

Farmland: 62,000 hectares

Yield: 0.9 tons per hectare

Literacy Rate: 17%



Hermit's Notes: Yes, you've seen that right: We're now also a system novel. 

I probably won't do a dry write-up like the previous three chapters again. I already cut out about 4k words to shorten the whole thing and it still ended up this long. Though I will update the stats sheet at the end every time a year passes in the novel. 

Working out all the details took a lot of effort, but now I have everything in one place, so the next one should be easier.

Also, I changed a few numbers from chapter 421, since I had forgotten how heavy Sila coins were (it's about 3.4 grams).

Finally, there might be some discrepancies between the chapters and the stats sheet at the end, but those are all due to different ways of counting (eg Brym mentions the natural population growth of the Chawir Marshes, while the stats at the end include the total growth of southern Medala including immigration).

Chapter 422 - Fiscal Summary and Medium-Term Plans

Inside Rapra Castle, the year-end summary of the southern kingdom's government continued. Once Fadelio had organized his thoughts, Brym was given the floor once again, to continue his account of the accounts.

"As previously stated, crop yields are up by 7%, mostly due to an increase in the total area of farmland. For the next year, we can expect this trend to continue. The incentives we have put in place for the local farmers — reduced taxes for every piece of unclaimed wilderness they convert into farmland — are still enticing for them, and it seems like the farmers are still not completely working at capacity for now. However, with the continued migration of local farmers into the city, we will reach a limit in this regard soon. We might want to either entice more people to stay in the countryside, or entice new people to move there. Otherwise our increase in farmland and corresponding yields will reach a bottleneck soon."

"Actually, there are already plans to that extent on the table. Maci, if you would, please."

With that, Corco motioned towards his wife. It had been her idea to begin with, so she was best suited to explain it. In response, Sumaci stood up from her seat to Corco's right and stepped up to the desk to introduce her plan.

"Ah yes, I believe there is a valuable, unused resource in both the Green Island and the southern kingdom, and that resource is fallow land. We've been eager to clear out the marshes to create more farmland, but as a result of the war, hordes of commoners have already been displaced in our newly occupied territories, and they have left their land behind, and unoccupied. At the same time, the Green Island has made a concerted effort to clean out the forests around Rasacopa and turn them into farmland as well, which will require additional manpower."

For a moment, Sumaci paused, possibly to gauge the reaction in the room. Luckily, there was someone dedicated to keeping the itinerary on track, someone who could succinctly summarize the policy.

"So, since we have such an abundance of land, and a lack of people to work it, we just provide incentives, like free farmland and tax reduction, for people to move there and work the land again," Fadelio summarized Sumaci's plan.

"Exactly. How about we grant every household one hectare of land for free after moving here and clearing the land? Afterwards, they shall be exempted from taxes for the next three years. Those were the figures from my preliminary write up, though the details may need some more consideration. This way, we are sure to increase our rural population, as well as our total area of farmland in the short term."

"That seems feasible, though I'm a bit worried that the tax breaks would set a bad precedent." Of course, Brym was once more the one with the financial concerns. "In fact, I wonder if such strong tax incentives are even necessary in the first place? If we exempt them for so many years, they will have an exorbitant amount of grain left over after the harvest, far more than their neighbors. It's an amount that won't be an extra incentive to most, since they would be able to survive comfortably on much less. At the same time, it will make their neighbors feel unbalanced, which will lead to social unrest, or a need for even further tax cuts to every farmer in the surroundings. In the worst case, our total yields will soon go down, not up."

While it sounded like Brym was concerned with social unrest for a seconds, it all still boiled down to money in the end. Corco wanted to argue for his wife's plan at first, but Sumaci was way ahead of him in this regard.

"No, I disagree," she said. "I wasn't planning to let former farmers return from the city back to their own land. The people who are meant to go there will be unfamiliar with the life of a medalan farmer, so they will need time to adjust. WIthout reduced taxes, they might just starve to death during their first winter. I assume that's not something we want."

In the face of Sumaci's biting sarcasm, Brym still showed no weakness.

"It would be better to get experienced farmers into the land after all. There's plenty who only went to the city recently, and even more stuck in refugee camps, so we are not lacking in potential candidates. Since they already have the experience, we won't have to reduce their taxes, and everything will be much smoother. Again, I fail to see the point of this policy."

"That's because I haven't mentioned yet who exactly this plan is intended for." Faced with Brym's repeated criticism, Sumaci grinned as if she had lured him into a trap. Corco couldn't have been prouder of his student. "Our offer for free land and reduced taxes in the southern kingdom will only apply to citizens of the Verdant Isles. And Inversely, only those from the southern kingdom will be eligible for land on the Verdant Isles as well. This way, we kill two birds with one stone: In the short-term, the problem of lacking peasants is solved, though with slightly reduced efficiency. In the long-term, this policy will support our efforts to unify our two kingdoms some day in the future."

Finally, the full scope of the plan was revealed. Ever since Sumaci had taken over as the Green Queen of Rasacopa, she and Corco had come up with plans to smoothly unify their territories one day. Sumaci's farmer exchange program was an important first building block in this regard. Maybe Brym felt how important this plan was both to the queen and the king, so he didn't argue anymore. Instead, more critique came from an unexpected source.

"Not to doubt Queen's words," Antaya said, her head bowed deeply so no one could see her face. "However, will such a plan truly be fruitful? After all, they are different people, from different kingdoms. If they are simply forced next to one another, their differences will simply be amplified, which will only cause more conflict within the kingdom. In fact, this servant allows herself to pose the question whether or not it is possible for Medalans and Verdant Folk to unify at all.

"Why not?" Sumaci shrugged her shoulder, clearly unfazed by the criticism. "You can raise your head, by the way. And I'm sure you have been told before that the manners of Arguna aren't appropriate in this room."

In response, Antaya raised her head, though her face was still a stiff mask.

"We are both Yaku," Sumaci continued to explain. "Both you and me, both the people of Medala and the Verdant Folk. We have the same religion, and we speak the same language, though with different accents. Our ways of life might be a bit different, but I believe that's only due to our respective environments. A verdant farmer will be fundamentally no different from a medalan farmer. Rather, I believe there is less difference between the Verdant Folk of Rasacopa and the people of Sachay, than there is between those of Sachay and those of Arguna. As you can see, there are already stark differences within Medala, and yet its people have been united for centuries. All we have to do is playing down our differences, while emphasizing our similarities. Now is the best chance to do so. After all, the crown's authority has never been greater. There's plenty of land to go around, too. So in the short-term, there won't be any complaints from locals that their rightful property has been taken by foreigners. Once the exchange is completed, the two groups will start living together, learning from each other, and intermingling their family trees. By the time they have reason to complain, the two groups will already be deeply intertwined. By then, an integration of the two kingdoms under one crown will be a mere formality."

"Well, I'm convinced," Corco said, a smile on his face due to Sumaci's strong speech. "Anyone have any more objections?"

For a few seconds, the king looked around the room in anticipation of more arguments. This time though, no one said anything, of course. Not only had the original plan come from their queen, their king had now also given his explicit support. This land exchange policy would go through even against resistance and legitimate concerns from the ministers, so there was no reason to upset the rulers of the twin kingdoms over a losing battle. As far as Corco was concerned, it was worth it to go through with the plan, even if it reduced their tax income from farming for a few years.

After all, Maci's strategy solved a lot of their problems, and he didn't even have to come up with it himself. This way, they'd manage to unify the culture and language of several people, long before the idea of nationalities or nation states ever became popular in this world. By the time some sort of nationalist thought would arise, Medala and the Verdant Isles would already be one, unified, mono-ethnic country, despite their diversity.

Though that much was still far in the future. For now, the issue of farmland expansion had been decided, so Brym could continue with last year's fiscal report.

"In terms of trade, our income for the first half of the year was still acceptable, despite the fighting going on in the Verduic Sea," the young minister said. "However, the chaos in Saniya and the subsequent war closed down all our borders. Both transient trade from the Arcavians as well as our exports into the northern markets have been impacted, which has significantly hampered our income in this regard. As a result, our total income from tariffs is down almost 40% to about 2.4 million. Though since the war is finally over, we can expect the numbers to return back to normal, even more so if we can manage to pacify the Verduic Sea as well."

"Right, that's why for now, we'll focus on internal rectification," Corco restated their medium-term policy goals. "As far as foreign policy is concerned, we'll focus on the Verdant Isles, to make sure the war there ends as quickly as possible, while also minimizing the impact of piracy from the other colored kings. Ah, but that reminds me." Corco turned towards Antaya, "If you have spare capacity, send some more people to check out the general mood in the northern kingdom. We won't act on them for now, but strange things seem to be going on up there. If we want a chance to act once an opportunity presents itself, we need to know enough about them first."

"Very well," Antaya said, and bowed again.

"We can also use our shops in the north to gather additional information," Brym added, clearly happy that he could prove the usefulness of his shops.

"Good idea. I guess it's time we made proper use of them."

Years ago, Brym had begun to open up 'Wonders of the World'-shops in the northern kingdoms, nominally subdivisions of the Fastgrade Merchant Company. Ostensibly, they were just places which sold goods from the southern kingdoms in the north. However, in Corco's plans, they were also places to influence the local culture, as well as a potential gathering spots for spies. By now, the shops had spread all over the two northern kingdoms and had established a strong reputation among the medalan people, so it was finally time for them to play their true roles.

"Then I will note this down, though I would prefer if I could finally finish my budgetary report," Brym complained.

"Sorry about that. Please continue."

"That's fine, we're almost done anyways. There's only the miscellaneous taxes left, which make up only a small part of the total budget, though we received a small uptick, up 5% to 3.3 million. Thus, the total for last year comes out to 29.8 million Sila. Although it is not included in last-year's revenue yet since it happened too late, we have also received a considerable sum in reparations courtesy of our peace agreement with the Arcavians. In total, 4 million Sila have been sent to us already, and if they keep their word, we can expect another 2 million Sila over the course of the year. While not technically part of last year's budget, the silver is already in our coffers, so we should work with it as soon as possible, and include this one-off income in our budget for next year. Which brings us to this year's expenses."

Brym paused for a while until Fadelio was done writing, before he continued.

"I won't go into any more detail regarding expenses, since it's too depressing." the former merchant chuckled, but no one else looked like laughing. Out of courtesy, Corco tried a polite smile, at least. After an awkward pause, Brym cleared his throat and explained further. "However, the main bulk of our budget for last year was dedicated to the war, obviously. Both the purchase of supplies and the wages for the soldiers were a significant burden on our country, as was the act of rescuing the refugees from Kapra. All in all, we have run a significant deficit last year, for the first time in the southern kingdom's history. Despite our strong increase in revenue, our total financial reserves have been reduced to only 8.46 million Sila, not including our precious metal reserves."

The bad news after the bad joke dampened the mood in the room further. However, Brym made no attempt to brighten the atmosphere at all.

"Oh, don't worry, it gets worse" he said instead. "For next year, we can predict that our income will increase significantly, and some of our expenses will be reduced as well. Not only have we begun to restore trade, which will increase our revenue, we have also overcome the war at last, all of which are good things. However, according to our new plans for a military reform, more than half of our current standing army will be decommissioned, which will be prohibitively expensive. Even worse, the plans for the new reservist system are too extensive as well. The implementation of both plans at once would eat up our entire available budget for the year, and possibly cause an even greater deficit than last year."

After the end of the war, there were a lot of problems to fix in the southern kingdom's military system. Corco, together with an advisory staff which included his generals, had already worked out a rough direction for these reforms. For now, they would decommission most of Saniya's 30,000 commoner soldiers. Only about 12,000 would be retained, while the rest would be turned into reservists. After all, there was no longer any need for such a large army.

About 2000 soldiers would be retained in Qarasi Castle, which was enough to hold off attacks from the north. Now that there was no enemy territory left in Sachay, there was no more need to protect any other borders. Even the shores were mostly safe, since the Arcavians were retreating from the Verduic Sea and Governor Ichilia's little adventure had destroyed most of the central kingdom's fleet. The remaining 10,000 soldiers would stay in Saniya, mostly as a deterrent against any more local unrest from overambitious lords. However, after all the rebellious lords in the south had been cleaned up, chances of more trouble than a few bandit attacks were small.

In place of the regular army would step a reserve system. In the long run, this system would save them a lot of money, while massively increasing their army's strength. The large number of troops would also allow them to take advantage of their advanced production technology. For now, every man aged 18 would spend a year with the military for training, and then join the army reserves and do occasional drills until he turned 35. This way, a short-term mobilization would be enough to assemble a massive force in times of war. Of course, building such a system was expensive, but Brym was clearly exaggerating.

"I get that we would have to spend some money to build up our reservists," he argued. "But we're not training all of our reserves at once. We're starting with only one birth year, so that shouldn't be too many, right? Plus, how are we spending money on the troop decommission? Since we have fewer soldiers now, we should be saving a lot compared to before, right?"

However, the greedy minister of finance shook his head. "That might be true in the long-term, but for next year, we need to find a place for all the decommissioned soldiers to stay first. Otherwise, we would risk great social unrest. So there will be a need to launch veteran support programs together with the new draft system. And building the draft system itself will be a huge cost point as well. According to my estimates-"

"Alright, fine. I get it," an annoyed Corco interrupted his ward. "It's going to be expensive. Got it. If I want details, I'll just read your report. Still, this is something that needs to be done. We're safe for now, but we need to stay vigilant. We're still surrounded by enemies after all. So the draft system needs to happen."

"All I'm suggesting is that we suspend the implementation of the reforms for one year, until our finances are healthier."

"We can't do that." Corco shook his head. "It's going to take a few years until we've built up sufficient reserves from the draft system. Until then, we'll be weaker than before. Now that our enemies have been intimidated by us, we need to take this chance, or we won't get another. So, the sooner we start with the reserve system, the better."

After a lengthy back and forth between the king and his minister, they had moved no closer to a conclusion. Just as the argument threatened to get bogged down in details, someone had mercy to offer a different solution.

"In that case, maybe we could roll out the draft system only in Saniya and Harkay for now," Fadelio offered. "In the first place, we are lacking the officials to handle a country-wide draft. In Saniya, we already have our military training facilities. And all the territory's youths are here for their compulsory school education, so it'll be easy to draft them, just hand them a draft letter on their last day of school. Also, almost every family's already registered with the government after our last census, so costs would be modest, and the effect would be good. This way, we can also iron out any remaining kinks in our draft system, before we expand to the rest of the kingdom."

Finally, Corco sighed and relented.

"Fine. I guess that's better than nothing."

Hermit's Notes: Yes, these are going to be three chapters, gonna post the third one right now. This was tough, since it's all a bit dry, but I really needed a baseline and rough direction that the rest of Book 7 would follow. I promise we'll be done with numbers for a while after this.

Chapter 421 - Year-End Summary and Long-Term Plans

A familiar pillow pressed against Corco's back. At last, the King of the South could sink back into his familiar seat, with the familiar desk of his familiar study in front of him. As far as he was concerned, he would have loved to just close his eyes and enjoy the long-lost sensation in quiet for a bit. However, there was no time to lose. As always, things needed his attention, and people presented him with problems he had to solve for them.

Thus, he once again focused on Fadelio, who had been presenting a summary of the southern kingdom's territory's development over the past year. This meeting was something that should have been done at the start of the new year already, but the war had still been going on at the time. Thus, they were more than two months late on their year-end review and next year's budget this time.

"All in all, the officials have already taken up position within the various estates of the rebellious lords," the attendant explained, with his trusty notepad in hand. "There have been some minor issues with local resistance, but every group of officials we have sent our has been accompanied by one squadron of soldiers, so no one should be dumb enough to harm them directly. Otherwise, they would be declaring war on the crown again, and I doubt anyone would dare to do that, at least not for now. There shouldn't be any need to get involved directly from our side any more, at least not until our officials have gained a foothold in their territories or something major happens."

The first to comment on Fadelio's report wasn't Corco, but Brymstock, the southern kingdom's head of the central bank and minister of finance.

"That would be for the best. Not only would another direct intervention be expensive after we've demobilized our main force. I'd also preferred if we wouldn't lose any of our workers. My office has been almost deserted after so many were pulled away to supervise the new lands, and retraining them is a pain already. The more workers we lose, the more expensive it will be to keep our offices running."

Apart from Corco's minister of finance, other important government officials were present as well. Of course Sumaci was there, as was Antaya, the mother of Fadelio and Tamaya, as well as head of the ghost warriors. Much of the information Fadelio had summarized so far had been collected by her men. Normally, Atau would have been there as well, but he was still busy fighting the pirates in the Verduic Sea, so he had to miss out this time. Maybe it was for the best, Corco thought. This way, at least he wouldn't meet his prospective mother-in-law prematurely.

"Also, people dying is bad in general," Corco added on top of Brym's utilitarian comment, before he waved towards Fadelio. "Anyways, continue."

"From my side, this would be the last issue which needs mention. At least for now," the royal attendant concluded. "There is another major problem that I have become aware of since my return to Saniya. But it should not be considered part of the year-end summary, so I have placed it towards the end of today's itinerary."

While Corco had continued to travel the country and subdue individual estates, Fadelio had returned to Saniya right after the end of the war. As a result, the king wasn't surprised that his attendant had stumbled onto problems he himself wasn't aware of. Although he was curious what was so important that it had to be mentioned at their budgetary meeting, it would be better to continue with the year-end summary for now, or they could get mixed up and forget something important.

"That's fine then. So who's next?" he asked as a result.

"That would be Brym with last year's finances." Fadelio motioned towards Brym, who sprang up from his seat and began his prepared speech.

"Yes, there are good news, and terrible news," he opened with a devious twinkle in his eyes.

"Right, just start with whatever you think would lead to the most poignant speech," Corco complained in response. Although he knew that his own education was responsible for Brym's overly dramatic personality, it still annoyed him sometimes.

"Well, the good news is that our fiscal revenue has increased compared to last year," Brym continued, his smile still as bright as if he hadn't heard the complaint. "The terrible news is that almost all of it is gone already. Compared to last year, our total income over the four seasons from spring of the sixth year to spring of the seventh has gone up a bit to about 29.8 million Sila. Those numbers are composed of income from seigniorage, tax income from agriculture, profits generated through trade from the businesses owned by the crown, tariffs received from foreign merchants, as well as other miscellaneous taxes. Of course, gifts to the royal family like those received during the royal wedding are private property and thus not part of the budgetary calculations."

Unlike Fadelio, Brym didn't seem to need any notes to remember all the numbers in his head. Without pause, he continued the summary.

"First, our income from seigniorage has increased significantly. We have taken in precious metals worth about 4.28 million Sila, and in return we have minted coins and printed bank notes worth around 13.48 million Sila, thus bringing our net income to about 9.2 million Sila. It should be noted that the increased activity of the mint has been necessary since there has been a considerable increase in commercial activity in Saniya and Harkay over the passing year. We needed to mint more money to keep up with demand and prevent a cash shortage. Since we have closely monitored demand and restricted our use of the presses, we shouldn't expect significant inflation for next year."

Seigniorage, or the money a government would naturally make in the process of minting coins or printing bank notes, was always a significant part of any sovereign government's income. However, ever since the introduction of paper money in Medala, this number had gone up significantly and now made up the largest portion of the total yearly budget.

"Agricultural income is up as well, since a lot more land has been opened up in the Chawir Marshes once again. As mentioned before, the amount of arable land on the territory now totals over 62,000 hectares. Although we do not receive money from agriculture directly, the total amount of grain or comparable products we have received in the form of taxes or rent over the past year was 27,000 tons. The largest contribution to that number is rice, then barley, wheat, and beets. There are various other products as well, but they only amount to less than eight percent of our income total. The details can be found in the report I have sent to the king's office."

Brym waited for Fadelio to nod in confirmation, before he continued.

"Although our total crop yields are up by 17% compared to the previous year, we have experienced a sharp increase in population, which means that the amount of crops suitable for exports have only gone up by about 7%."

Over the past year, immigration from the north once more made up most of the population increase in Corco's territory. This year alone, almost 30,000 people moved to Saniya and Harkay. As a result, just the population of the Chawir Marshes alone had reached a staggering 225,000, a far cry from the low-point of 80,000 right after Corco had taken over the estate.

"In addition, average food prices have gone down since the introduction of fertilizer," Brym continued the bad news. "As a result, our fiscal revenue from grain exports has shrunk slightly last year, down to about 7.1 million Sila. I suggest we that we stop exporting our fertilizer, especially to the northern kingdoms. Such measures support our enemies, and the profits from the trade with fertilizer get eaten by our reduced income from food exports."

"Denied," Corco said, before he explained in detail. "The people in the north are my people as well, so I want to make their lives easier if I can. Lower food costs also increase fertility, which will be good for us long-term. The sooner we start increasing the country's population, the larger the benefits will be later down the line."

"Not to seem heartless, but that seems like a poor reason to support our enemies," Fadelio said.

"Who said we're supporting our enemies with the fertilizer?" At the thought of his grand plans, Corco had to grin. "This is part of our long-term strategy, so I can't accept the cessation of fertilizer exports."

In response to the king's cryptic announcement, everyone was just staring at Corco, waiting for a more detailed explanation.

"Right. I guess everyone should know about this, since it's an importtant national strategy, but know that this is highly confidential. So everything said from here will not leave this room. Miss Antaya, if you please."

Corco motioned towards the head of his intelligence service. Of course, it was necessary for her to know about the country's long-term strategy, since intelligence had to be prepared long in advance. Thus prompted, Antaya bowed and dutifully explained to the room.

"Very well, King Corco. The fertilizer plan is very simple, though it will not bear fruit until years, or decades, later. At first, fertilizer will be exported, which will increase the yields per hectare for every field in Medala. As a result, all lords of Medala will generate greater income, even those in the north. However, by next year at the latest, the price of grain will be reduced back to an appropriate level, as there will be a large oversupply. Even estates which could not feed their population before will now be able to do so. Thus, demand for grain will be reduced appropriately. This is step one of the plan: By this point, the income of the lords will be back to its pre-fertilizer level, due to the reduced prices. However, they will still have to continue buying our fertilizer. If they do not, their income will shrink even further. Thus, they have gained no long-term benefit, while the kingdom has increased both its influence in the north as well as its income. Part two of the plan is speculative, and its completion lies far in the future. Since it is based on the king's own estimates, King should be more appropriate for any further explanations."

With this, Antaya bowed again, and motioned back towards Corco. For a few seconds, he just stared at the woman who had so much power and spent so little time in Saniya. Yet before the atmosphere could get too tense, he sighed.

"I guess I'll take it from here, since my own head of intelligence doesn't trust my judgment," he said. Back when he had told Antaya of his plan, she had been skeptical, since much of it was based on knowledge unknown to the woman. In that case, he would just have to let time prove him right, and handle the explanation by himself in the meantime. He was a better talker anyways.

"So, part two of the plan is based on a simple assumption: Once food is cheaper, people have more children," Corco explained. "That's not a hard and fast law, but at least in pre-industrial societies, population numbers go up as soon as food prices sink or people start making more money. Eventually, an equilibrium is regained, one in which most families struggle to feed their offspring. And then the population boom stops again. After the introduction of the fertilizer, I expect something similar to happen in Medala. In fact..."

Corco stretched his hand over to Fadelio, who wordlessly handed him a piece of paper from his notes. As always, his attendant did a perfect job at simplifying the king's work. Thus, Corco just had to read the numbers off the paper as he continued his explanation.

"Apart from our population increase through immigration from the north, our increase through births alone is seven thousand. That means our natural growth rate is also up significantly, from roughly 1.4% to roughly 3%. The numbers are a bit iffy since we are still lacking data, but it's good enough to draw a preliminary conclusion that my assumption is correct: Over the next decade at least, we can expect a massive population boom in the southern kingdom, and I expect the numbers will look similar in the north."

For a second, Corco glanced around the room to make sure everyone was still listening, before he continued.

"Since that's the case, the population of the northern kingdoms will explode as well, which just means that they'll need to use more grain to feed their own population. Over time, all the increased yields from the use of fertilizer will have to be used for their own population, so the times of great export and great profits will be over. At that point, it's all too late for them. Their economy will be fully addicted to our fertilizer. In case we manage to protect our fertilizer production methods until then, all other lords of Medala will be dependent on us, even the ones in the north. They can't just let their people starve after all, or they'll risk revolution. Since... basically forever, a lack of affordable food is the main reason revolutionary ideas have spread. So, by that point, we'll have the northern lords in the palm of our hand. We can increase fertilizer prices to slowly squeeze them to death through economic sanctions, or incite revolution to remove them from power quickly. Though I don't even think we need to go that far, considering the soft power we would wield in the north by that point. If we play our cards right, we will be able to take over the northern kingdoms without any further bloodshed at all."

For a while, there was silence in the room. Corco leaned back into his chair in satisfaction, while the others digested what they had just heard. Finally, Brym was the first to comment.

"What an inspired strategy. I would have expected no less of my big bro." As he spoke, he also clapped his hands, though no one else joined in. Still, Corco thought that maybe he had also done some things right when it came to Brym's education. However, the same couldn't be said about his favorite student.

"It is a good plan," Sumaci began in a promising way. "However, it seems too idealized. Too much has to go right for this plan to succeed. And who knows what will happen in the next decades until the population catches up with the food prices?"

Not only his student disappointed him, even his own servants stabbed Corco in the back.

"I agree," Antaya said. "Protecting the secrets of the fertilizer has been one of the main missions of the ghost warriors over the past few years. While we have managed to protect the secret so far, it has provided considerable difficulty. Sooner or later, there will be a mistake somewhere, and the secret will be exposed. Such matters seem inevitable. Even more, if the lords of Medala truly became as dependent on fertilizer as King described, they would stop at nothing to escape their dependency. In that case, the work of the ghosts would become even more unbearable."

These additional reasonable concerns from his subordinate worsened Corco's mood further. Why could none of these people just solve these problems themselves, instead of ruining his perfectly good plans with them? Although he knew that both Sumaci and Antaya were right, he still didn't like the implications. Was it truly impossible to achieve a peaceful ending to this Era of Strife? After experiencing such a brutal war, this wasn't something he was willing to believe. And yet, as if he had just waited for his opportunity, his trusted friend was the last to jump in and burst his bubble.

"Indeed, the plan seems a bit too... idealistic," Fadelio concluded. "Rather, I believe that with the way the kingdom is developing, we will soon have the strength to overpower the two northern kingdoms combined, and quite easily at that. There shouldn't be a need to wait for decades until we reunify the Empire of Medala."

Although he worded his criticism more carefully, Fadelio couldn't hide his favoritism towards his mother. Again, Corco was grumbling internally that reality once more stood in the way of his perfectly good plan. Outnumbered even among his own, he finally had to concede defeat.

"Fine, I guess the plan is the best case scenario, and is unlikely to be realized. But just because ideals are hard to achieve doesn't mean we should give up on them. As far as I'm concerned, it's still our best shot at a peaceful unification. Plus, in the short and medium term, we can't annex any more territories anyways. Our administration is stretched as it is. So until some major event makes the fertilizer plan impossible, it will continue to be national strategy."

For a few seconds, Corco looked around the room. Although he heard no more complaints from among his trusted advisors, he also was no longer in the mood to continue talking about his grand plans.

"Anyways, it seems like we've gone off topic quite a bit," he said instead, before motioning towards Fadelio again. "Where were we?"

Luckily, his attendant still had his trusty notepad with him, and so he took a quick look, before the yearly budgetary meeting continued.

Hermit's Notes: Lots of numbers, even more of them next chapter. These chapters will serve as a sort of baseline, since most of Book 7 will be kingdom building, and seeing the numbers go up over the years should be satisfying, I thought.

Some of the numbers aren't 100% final yet, might change them a bit over the next few days as I work out more details about the territory. Still, the changes shouldn't be fundamental, and won't change the reading experience.

Chapter 420 - Funerary Festival (Part 2)

As Corco's wife stared back at him through her own mirror across the room, with her enticing eyes, Corco felt impulsive again. Though just as he turned around to continue their previous activities, Sumaci seemed to notice his plans and tried to change the topic.

"Right, let's go over the itinerary one more time, in case you forget," she said as she turned towards him as well. At the same time, Corco walked up to her.

"I never forget anything, my dear student," he said, while holding her hand. However, Sumaci brushed him off and patted his cheek in a cheeky way.

"Well then we should go over it in case I forget," she replied as she turned back towards her mirror. "We really don't have much time left."

"Fine, there's not much to it anyways, right?" Corco walked next to her and continued to fix his robes in the mirror. "I just go out when it's my turn, hold my speech-"

Before he could continue, he was interrupted by Sumaci again.

"By the way, I finished looking over your speech for you," For a few seconds, she rummaged in a dresser next to her, before she pulled out a few pieces of paper and held them towards Corco. "I have marked any problems I could find, but there is not much. I think the best part was the one about sacrifice."

The king started flipping through the speech he had written while he was still on the road, busy gaining control over the estates of the rebellious lords. He had an exceptional memory and plenty of experiences with public speaking, so he didn't really need to look at his own nonsense again. Instead, he skimmed through to check out the nonsense his wife had added for him, especially the sacrifice portion she liked so much.

"'Those dead now lie here, to form the foundations of this house of learning. Just the same, their sacrifice shall be the foundation of our bright future,'" he quoted himself with his head still buried in his own writing. "I wasn't sure I wanted to keep that. It felt disrespectful towards the dead."

"No, I think it's necessary," Sumaci responded. "In the first place, you're not writing for the dead. You're writing for the bereaved, and the survivors of the war. Both need to believe that those people died for a greater purpose, the soldiers and the civilians. Seeing literal foundations under their feet and then imagining the positive impact their sacrifice will have on the future... it's cathartic."

Although he was sure Sumaci was right, Corco still didn't really feel comfortable with his own written words. He would later decide whether or not to include that part in his speech, but he certainly didn't feel like talking about it anymore right now. Instead, he decided to continue going through his itinerary for the day.

"Anyways... after the speech, I just give out the medals, shake hands and shortly talk to all the soldiers who will get their medals in the war. Fadelio is gonna do the details of who gets what, so I just have to pick up whatever is put in front of my nose and pin it onto whoever walks up to me. But at least, I've remembered the names of everyone, so I won't look like an idiot."

"Anyone interesting?"

When Corco looked back up again after skimming through his speech, he saw that Sumaci had already fixed her clothes, so he threw his speech onto the dresser and started fiddling with his own again to catch up.

"Not really. Wait, I think one of the guys called Taki who gets the silver triquetra - that's the highest honor one - blew up a bunch of gunpowder barrels point blank and survived."

"Then we'll definitely have to ask him about his experience later. I want to hear the whole story." Sumaci smiled in anticipation. At the same time, she pulled Corco around by his shoulder until he faced her, before she helped fix his collar.

"Already on it, my dear student," the teacher said and tapped his temple.

For a few seconds, there was quiet between them, until Sumaci stopped fixing his clothes and asked: "Are you sure you're not forgetting anything?"

"I don't think so..." Corco said, though he still mused what he could possibly have overlooked. Meanwhile, Sumaci stood there with her hands on her hips and an annoying smirk of triumph on her face. This was ridiculous! Corco had to defend his honor as a teacher, so he thought hard and finally remembered.

"Oh, right. I still have to open up the music performance, right?"

Since they had planned a funeral that would lead into victory celebrations for today, the transition between the two was difficult to manage. How would one go from somber remembrance to celebration? In the end, Corco had decided to guide people's emotions with some music. After his speech, a performance would start in memory of the dead, and then seamlessly lead into music of triumph. Before people had time to think, they would already be in a much better mood. Only then would Corco give out the awards for the heroes of the war.

While the king was still organizing his thoughts on the itinerary, the queen had already moved on.

"And we should try to look presentable too, while we're at it."

Thus, she pulled a turned over chair off the ground and sat on it in front of the mirror. However, when she pulled out the delicate ivory comb from her dresser, Corco took it from her hand.

"Working on it, noble queen."

For a while, the two were silent, as Corco combed his wife's hair. After a while, he realized that Sumaci was starting to purse her lips in the mirror. Before he could wonder whether he was doing something wrong, the queen complained about something else.

"I still don't understand why we have to let those lords get away. They started a rebellion and now they will still keep control over their territories."

"They're not getting away." Corco shook his head. "They just get a stay of execution until we have enough officials to do all their work for us. For now, we don't have enough as is. Now that the war is over, we'll have some leftover manpower, but those guys will have to enter the new territory to take over the books right away. At that point, our lack of bureaucrats will once again be our main bottleneck for growth. With the books under control and the lords away from home, they won't have much control over their territories anyways."

In fact, the new system of the southern kingdom was far more centralized than Corco could have hoped a year back, despite Sumaci's complaints. After the end of the war, all territories within the southern kingdom would have to adhere to Corco's new constitution, which guaranteed basic rights to all citizens of the kingdom. At the same time, a supreme court would soon be established in Saniya to uphold the law, which meant the courts of Saniya would have judicial power over every estate within the kingdom.

Even more, all lords who hadn't allied with Corco before the lightning miracle would have to leave their territory, to live in a quasi-exile in Saniya, while Corco's own officials would go to these estates. Ostensibly, they would only go there to supervise the lands of the traitorous lords in order to prevent future rebellions. However, without the ruling family present and full access to all papers of the estates, they would wield significant power. After some time, these officials would let Corco control those lands directly. Even more, he had established a system in which the officials at every estate would change once every six months, so his own workers couldn't collude with the locals for money or power and had to stay loyal to Saniya. Still, it appeared that wasn't enough for the queen.

"I mean, I understand that we're lacking men," she said. "Still, we could have already changed the de facto leadership status of the remaining lords to be directly subordinate to us, at least on paper. Those lords could still have continued to govern so long as we are lacking manpower, and then we could have replaced them once they were no longer needed. Now that their old-fashioned rule has been confirmed by you, they have an excuse to stay in power for a long time to come. I doubt they will be dumb enough to make trouble for us again. So we won't get another chance to get rid of them and centralize power completely."

"I don't think we need to," Corco said. "I mean, these guys stuck with us when we looked our weakest. They've certainly proven reliable. And I can't mistreat them, or we won't have any allies anymore in the future. Plus, those guys can use their old influence, especially with the warriors, to help us stabilize the country while we grow. In the future, if everything develops the way I want, those ruling families will disappear eventually, and they'll just naturally lose power, without any conflict and without any problem."

However, apart from the king's allies, there was still one notable exception to the rule, which still seemed to bother Sumaci.

"At least you could have gotten rid of Vareo," she complained again. "Port Ulta was our enemy too, right? Weren't they even more responsible for the war than many of the other lords who got punished? That's where all the arcavian soldiers came from, and all the supplies for Antila. And yet he still gets to rule his city with almost no supervision?"

As she spoke, Sumaci opened the dresser again to pick out some jewelry for the upcoming occasion. Meanwhile, Corco was done with her hair, so he went to the corner of the room, where they had thrown their crowns in the heat of battle earlier.

"Well, Port Ulta wasn't part of the southern kingdom before the war," he explained. "They were nominally part of the central kingdom, an enemy country, so they're free to fight whoever they want. Those are the rules of engagement that me and my fellow medalan kings decided on, at least informally. I could weaken and even destroy those other houses because they broke their oaths towards their king first. I can't do the same with Port Ulta, because they technically haven't done anything wrong, based on Medala's current code of conduct. Plus, we've already lost House Ogulno, since the remainder of the family will probably not go back to Kapra. That also means losing their vote in the elder council back north. Politics in Arguna will be hard enough as is. After losing an ally in the capital, it's a good idea to keep House Vareo around, so long as they support us there. That way, we just replace a vote, instead of losing one."

By now, Corco had come back in front of the mirror and handed Sumaci her crown. Now all he had to do was pick out some simple jewelry for himself and he would be done with his preparations.

"Are those political games in Arguna really so important? We're focused on the south anyways," Sumaci noted.

"That's true, bur only for us. For most Medalans, Arguna is still the center of the world. If we lose our presence there completely, it will be misinterpreted as weakness, which will weaken our influence over the people in the north. And those are my people too, just like the southern kingdom's citizens. Sooner or later, once we have the bureaucratic strength to control them all, we'll have to bring them back into the fold. And for that, we need a good standing with the general populace. That'll make our takeover easier to accept, with less resistance down the line."

"In that case, I didn't say anything. You seem to have thought a decade farther than anyone else, teacher." After her compliment, Sumaci checked both of their figures in the mirror one final time, before she sighed. "I really don't like these stiff occasions. Let's just get this funeral over with, so we can go back home."

Although Corco agreed with Sumaci's mood after half a year on the road, there was something he was even more interested in.

"Talking about home, what's happening in Rasacopa? Any news?"

Since he had been busy with the war here, he didn't have time to check up on the situation in the Verdant Isles very much. However, Sumnaci's shrug told him that there wasn't much to report on.

"Nothing important," she confirmed his guess. "The Blue King Raoman Inkasa has apparently hinted at a peaceful resolution, but he's still in hiding, still attacking our transports like the coward he is. Since he's fled the blue island Palanta, we don't even know what island they're coming from."

"Fucking pirates..." Corco complained, which earned him a nasty look from his wife. If Raoman, the Blue King, was a pirate, then surely, Sumaci, the Green Queen, was one as well. Thus, he simply completed the sentence to save his hide. "...is my favorite thing to do."

Yet somehow, his wife still just stared at him. At least she looked more bemused than upset now. Maybe she was also thinking about their previous activity again, since she started to blush again.

"Sorry, the joke was just lying there," Corco continued talking to himself, and his mouth once more continued the thought before his brain could catch up. "Just like a certain pirate queen."

This time, Sumaci hit him in the shoulder after the reminder of their madness from earlier. Even so, she didn't say a word. Just as Corco was feeling frisky again, and his horniness threatened to ruin their preparations, he was saved by a knock on the door, and a servant's reminder that it was soon their turn to appear in front of the adoring public.

"Oh thank every god, fake and real." In his head, Corco thanked their servant as well, before he turned to his wife, whose face had returned to a regal paleness. "Looks like we'll have to get going. Ready?"

"Of course, my king." she said, a bright smile on her face, the kind he had missed the most throughout his campaign. "Lead the way."

Thus, the couple left the house of learning they had misappropriated, to lead a death celebration party.

Hermit's Notes: Today I learned how to write horniness... I think. There was conflicting information in my research. Also, I may post the country's constitution as an extra on here at some point. I'm still fighting with several points that I'm unsure about. If I can't come to a conclusion soon, I might just post some important excerpts first.

Chapter 419 - Funerary Festival (Part 1 - Start of Book 7)

Unlike other rituals for the dead from around the world, Medala's Funerary Rites were not only about dealing with loss, or about remembrance. Rather than treating the dead like they were lost, Medala's funerals treated them like warriors going into battle. After all, their beliefs told them that the dead would make a long, arduous journey through the underworld, until they joined the stars in the sky.

Thus, writing eulogies on the dead was considered pointless. By the time of the funeral, the dead would already be on their way, so they wouldn't even hear the celebrations in their name. In the end, most bereaved would just remember their dead in shrines and private beacon lights long after the funeral, once they believed the dead had completed their journey.

Rather than death or remembrance, decay itself took center stage for much of medalan funeral proceedings. Since the medalans believed that the state of the body's decay equated to the dead's progress on their journey, faster decay symbolized smoother travels. Thus, those who could afford it would use expensive methods to help speed up the journey.

In many cases, the dead would be covered with a wet cloth, sometimes even soaked in sugar water. Of course, these methods were only accessible for the very rich. Ordinary commoners could not afford such luxury as sugar. Even an ordinary piece of cloth was a valuable item in normal families, not to mention the sorts of shrouds the rich would use, ornate and covered with scenes from their lives or fancy weapons or companions who were meant to help the dead on their path.

On top of that, the quickly rotting bodies would have to be buried deep underground to prevent diseases. Thus, any proper burial would cost even more. Often, the noble houses of Medala even had their own family crypts or monuments, which was even more out of the question for a commoner family. All they could usually afford was a nameless spot in a mass grave, a simple hole in the ground.

This time however, things were different. In an open field south-east of Saniya, in late spring during the seventh year of the Era of Strife, the largest funeral in the history of Medala was being held, and no expenses had been spared. Much unlike the grand spectacle of the occasion, most of the dead were commoners, much to the shock of the established powers in the north.

One day very soon, this plot of land would be transformed into Medala's first public university. While the rebellion of the lords and the subsequent civil war had caused the construction to halt for half a year, the war was now over, so work would soon resume.

For now however, this area would serve as a place of remembrance for all those who had fallen in Sachay's civil war. As it was a planed and cleaned piece of land close to Saniya, it had been deemed the ideal spot.

At the moment, the young high priest Watachay, the man who had stepped out of Rapra Castle engulfed in lightning together with the king half a year earlier, was finishing up the rites for the fallen of the war.

Massive banners of cotton were draped over the dead soldiers who had been lined up in long rows, and then the cloth was sprinkled with sugar water. All of it was done by one single priest, the young Watachay, alone. As he walked along the rows of the fallen and generously wetted their covers, he spoke of the names and lives of every single man. One by one, he made those present in the audience aware of what had been lost. Despite his youth and good health, the priest was already exhausted, and his muscles and throat sore from the work which had already taken from morning till evening.

Every time an entire row of deceased had been covered and moistened, the dead would be let into the earth by their fellow soldiers who had survived the ordeal of the past year. After, the dead would be covered with soil by apprentice priests. Some time after today, a solid stone floor was planned to be built as a cover for this particular mass grave. Metal plaques would be inlaid into the stone to commemorate all those who lay here. Though of course, most bodies from the war never made it back home.

Due to logistical issues, and due to concerns over potential plague outbreaks, most soldiers who had died during the siege of Antila had long been buried in mass graves across the Anticasa Pass by this point. While the soldiers had dug trenches to save their lives on the front line, they had also dug graves in the back to save their souls. During the worst, most costly days of the war, the bodies even had to be burned, since there had not been enough manpower left for even a basic burial.

Though of course, these soldiers hadn't been forgotten in this, the largest funeral in Medala's history. Compared to the graves of the fallen, which only the friends and family of the dead cared about, the real centerpiece of this funeral was the large statue which had been erected to honor all those who had fought for the future of their country, whether or not their bodies were present. Of course, another monument was planned near Antila, but it was nothing compared to the splendor which had been constructed here.

A large pool had been built in an open plaza of the future university, filled with one hundred fake fish cast from bronze. From the center of the pool, a large figure rose, made up of carved soldiers in the uniforms of Saniya and Antila. Mixed in between them were also many other classic symbols of death, like ravens and turtles. Supported by these good omens, the carved men strove upwards, their hands and eyes reaching towards the sky, the goal of their journey.

In addition, dozens of small beacon shrines had been erected along the sides of the monument, meant for the bereaved to mourn their fallen family members, whether or not they had been buried here. Of course, many families would erect their own beacons at home as well, but not everyone had the money to do so.

Thus, the beacons were a gesture of inclusion for those who could not afford to construct their own shrines. Even more, there were many soldiers who had died in this war without leaving behind any family at all. Thus, every shrine would also get regular visits from apprentice priests, who would clean the shrines, the monument, and pray for the fallen of the war, especially those who had no one else to pray for them. It was the first hint at social security in Medala. If nothing else, those who had died for their country would at least be taken care of in death.

Much money, as well as innovative building techniques, had been used to make sure the statue and the beacons would be finished in time. Yet this was only the most obvious expense of today's grand celebrations.

Throughout the day, over one hundred thousand people had come to stand witness, all of whom had received food and drink for free as well. Thus, it had become the largest funeral in Medalan history, with no comparison. In addition, it was also a massive show of wealth from the King of the South, as well as proof of his care for his soldiers, and the commoners under his rule.

Though for now, the king himself was still surprisingly absent from the proceedings. Of course, he couldn't be asked to stand out in the sun for an entire day and listen to a priest drone on all this time. Not only was he a busy man who had only just returned from a long and grueling military campaign, he was also — through the nature of the lighting miracle — at least an equal to the reformed Pacha faith's high priest. As both of them had stepped through the lightning at the same time, their religious status was the same in the minds of the people.

Thus, Corco couldn't stand at attention while Watachay did important work, since it would have harmed his prestige, or so Fadelio had explained. No, the king could only appear at the end of the funeral, to hold his own speech, and show some simple gestures of respect and condolences towards the fallen. Afterwards, he would lead the prayers for the dead into a celebration of victory, which would last all night. At some point, he would also distribute some medals to the heroes of the war.

With a few simple actions, he would thus put an official end to the times of war in the south, hopefully ringing in long days of prosperity instead. Though for now, he still had to wait until Watachay got done with his burial business.

Since he couldn't appear himself, the king was still hidden within one of the unfinished university's already completed buildings. In here, he was supposed to prepare for his grand entrance. Though he had a hard time focusing on his preparations, since months of work on the road had eaten away at his patience, and he was distracted by the company by his side.

At the moment, there were only two people left in the king's dressing room. Normally, dressing the imperial family would have been work for Corco's personal servants. However, the king of the south had never really liked getting dressed by others in the first place. Today, his appearance was especially important, so he had reluctantly accepted their service at first. In the end however, he had sent them all out anyways, since they would only have gotten in the way of the long-awaited reunion between husband and wife.

"Are you alright?" Corco asked as he sorted out his long robes. For the ritual, he had put on fancy silk of purple, with a woven artist's motif of the underworld at the bottom and a starry sky above. The robe alone probably cost more than the yearly income for ten medalan families. On top of that, he was meant to wear his royal paraphernalia, including his cheap crown. At the moment however, all of his accessories were lying around who knew where, and his nice robe loosely hung on his frame in disorder. As he stared into a fancy mirror and plucked at the cloth in a vain attempt to make himself presentable again, a voice glowing with satisfaction finally replied to him from behind.

"Yes, I am very well."

Past his own reflection in his mirror, he could see his wife Sumaci, her clothes and hair as tousled as his own. Although they had to prepare for their own part in the funeral soon, they still had taken out the time to enjoy their own reunion after months apart.

Edit: First chapter of two, since I crammed in too much and it got too long. 

It's also the first chapter of the next book, which will heavily focus on internal development of all kinds (mostly economic and social). The chapter has been delayed a lot as I was changing my approach to this book compared to the others. That's something you'll probably see by chapter 421 coming tomorrow or the day after (unless I have another idea again and change all my plans).

Political Map of Yakuallpa and Surroundings (Spoilers for the end of Book 6)

Hello, hermit here.

Here's the updated political map for the epilogue of book 6.

I may have to zoom the map out in the next iteration, since more and more outside forces are getting involved, though for now, this one still seems sufficient.

Colors are the same as before: 

Light blue are areas directly controlled by Corco.

Dark blue are other areas of the southern kingdom.

Red are areas of the central kingdom.

Yellow are areas of the northern kingdom.

Purple is Arguna, controlled by the elder council.

Green is new, they're areas controlled by the Green Island under Sumaci.

Apart from Corco's increase in territory, notable changes are Port Ulta changing hands (and thus removing the Arcavians from the map), and one noble house south of Arguna returning from the northern to the central kingdom.

Chapter 418 - Present and Future (End of Book 6)

With the signature of the Antila Agreement, ripples of peace spread throughout Medala.

After half a year of unrest, Sachay was the first to escape the clutches of war. Once Antila was taken and the Arcavians had surrendered, the King of the South continued to travel to the estates of each rebellious lord to force the old families of Sachay into submission one by one.

Shortly after the king's new constitution had been forced upon his lands, peace spread throughout the central kingdom as well. Only the north, which had never been at war throughout this period of unrest, had remained unaffected by the peace in the south. Though of course, that didn't mean that they didn't care about the events in the remaining kingdom.

"Thus, it appears as if the foreigners have completely retreated from Port Ulta, and Lord Vareo has surrendered, in exchange for the guaranteed safety of his family's position at the head of their estate. For now, it is unknown what deal was struck between the foreigners and the southern king, though we believe that they were guaranteed continued trading rights in return for a swift peace. Although we have attempted to confirm as much with the foreigners, they claim to be unaware of the actions of other foreigners in the south and supposedly cannot tell us any more details."

In a brightly lit room in the lord's manor of Challwala, the largest port city in northern Medala, a warrior named Inkasius, dressed in a white robe, stood at the foot of a series of steps and recited the northern kingdom's intelligence to those sitting above.

Though strangely, the master of the manor was not present to hear it. Lord Betucio, Governor of the North, had long been banned from joining the meetings of the kingdom's leaders. Much to Inkasius' chagrin, Governor Betucio had criticized his king's orders one too many times and had caught the ire of the Chutwa scholars. Though of course, Betucio would have never arranged his room in such a disrespecting manner had he still been present.

The remaining leaders of the northern kingdom were only two. Both sat on white stone chairs high above, five steps elevated from Inkasius' position, and half covered in shadow, which allowed them to look down on him.

"As always, those foreigners are false snakes who act in a two-forked manner. Only their ancestor worship is good about them," complained a middle-aged man with a long beard and bushy eyebrows from above. Although he was a figure who was so unknown that Inkasius didn't even know his name, he sat right next to the King of the North, Amautu Titu Pluritac, who wore the same dress, and complained just the same.

"Those barbarians surely believe that they are better off working with those southerners, rather than with us. As always, we appear too weak in front of the unlearned."

For a few seconds, the king tapped on his armrest, before he finally addressed the warrior at the bottom of the steps.

"Has the problem of the bandits still not been resolved, disciple?" he finally asked.

Another unsavory Chutwa custom.

These days, no one was allowed to get close to the King of the North unless they were his direct disciple. Inkasius didn't understand it all very well, since he had no interest in the Chutwa nonsense. Still, he swallowed his pride, wore the robes and learned the rituals. After all, he would much rather pretend and stay close to the center of power than be one in a sea of warriors with no ambition.

However, the king's question was a problem for Inkasius, since the answer wasn't something Amautu would want to hear, and he knew what had happened to the king's last 'head disciple'.

Thus, the warrior tried to lower his head in response. However, not a single word came from the two people up above. Despite the warm spring temperatures in Medala's north, he felt a chill infect his bones. Finally, he had to bite his teeth and reply with the truth.

"Great Master, this useless servant has already sent out many hunting groups to catch them. However, these bandits seem to know of our arrival every time, often before we move out. Each time, they hide in local mountains and forests, where they cannot be caught, and they remain there until our own hunting parties leave once more."

"Useless." Once again, the scholar next to Amautu replied before the king could. Yet he remained quiet after a single word, though the one word had been enough to make Inkasius flinch. Although he didn't know his name, the warrior knew that this man was the head disciple of Amautu's teacher, and thus also the king's 'senior brother'. During every meeting, he was eager to prove his higher status by interrupting or even by giving orders against the will of the king. For now however, it seemed like he was content with simply making his presence felt. Thus, the king had time to voice his useless complaints towards his own head disciple first.

"Those damned land owners are making trouble again. No doubt are they working with these bandits in defiance of their leaders. It seems like this scholar has been too lenient towards them. We should prepare a show of strength, to remind everyone of our own force. Head disciple Inkasius, send my scholastic guards to these 'lords' who hide their ill-gotten wealth under my protection. Ask them to provide one hundred warriors each for further advanced training in the scholastic methods."

The words were spoken easily, but they were difficult to fulfill. Like in the past, Inkasius tried to voice his concerns.

"Master, another one hundred would be..." in the end he trailed off as he saw his king's expression darken.

"What would it be, head disciple?" the king asked in a low and threatening tone. Much unlike the past, King Amautu was no longer eager to listen to his advice. Finally, he could only bow his head again.

"Disciple obeys master's orders," he finally said, while suppressing a sigh.

"Very good," the king said in a much happier tone. "Tell them that it is necessary to replenish our numbers because of the constant bandit attacks. That will make them understand the consequences of siding with our enemies and hindering their own path towards enlightenment."

"Of course, master. A wise decision as always."

Once more he looked up to judge his king's mood. From his grinned nod, it seemed like Inkasius had managed to pacify his lord for now, though he felt farther away from power than ever, despite his best efforts.

"Then-" Amautu began in a chipper tone. However, a sudden voice from behind the king froze the harmonious atmosphere once more.

"This... 'constitution'."

Behind the king's throne, only darkness could be seen. Even so, Inkasius knew exactly who was hidden there. Before the warrior could react, the king's senior brother had already jumped from his illegitimate seat next to the king, eager to berate his inferior.

"Did you not hear, you oaf!? Master wants this 'constitution'. For your own good, this humble student hopes you have brought it with you!"

Luckily, Inkasius had come prepared, or he would not have escaped physical punishment. The flustered warrior fumbled in his clothes for a few seconds, before he retrieved a scroll from within his impractical, white robes.

"Ah yes, we managed to get a copy, since they are freely distributed within Saniya," he said, and closed in to hand the scroll to the man in the shadows. However, the king's fellow disciple raised his hands to stop him halfway up the steps. It seemed like even this level of contact was forbidden now.

Instead, the scholar with the bushy eyebrows took the scroll himself and then held it towards the darkness with both hands and a bent back. Finally enticed by prey, an old figure bent forward from within the shadows. At last, the great scholar Ichtaka, famous teacher of King Amautu, made his presence known.

With great reverence, the great scholar's student waited on his teacher, seated even higher than his disciples. Once Ichtaka had received the scroll with his bony hands, he slowly retreated back into the darkness behind him. As he read the scroll, not a word escaped from the old mystic.

Even after seeing him so many times, Inkasius was still uncomfortable, unsure how he was meant to act towards this foreign man who wielded so much power at a medalan court. However, before he could think too deeply about the changes in medalan politics, Amautu spoke up once more, as if nothing had happened just now.

"Now then, Disciple Inkasius. Explain what has happened in the central kingdom. So far, nothing but rumors have reached Challwala."

"Very well." Still shaken by his encounter with his grand master, Inkasius had to compose himself for a few seconds, before he could continue. "After House Ichilia's forces were wiped out in the south, King Pachacutec pulled together his own warriors, as well as calling upon those from the remaining houses within the central kingdom. Their goal was to march onto Huaylas and remove House Ichilia entirely. Yet only days after the king's army was assembled, the young Lord Ichilia returned to eastern Sinchay by boat, with a large force of warriors in tow. All in all, it was suspected that he had managed to gather around three thousand men under his banner."

"More than expected," the king added, before he motioned Inkasius to continue.

"However no more than a trick from the young Lord Ichilia," the warrior corrected his master. "Later, more than half the men in this army proved to be fake, mere commoners disguised with cheap equipment Ichilia purchased in Port Ulta. Though by then, the eastern lords had been fooled successfully. As soon as they heard about the landing, they withdrew their troops from the central army to protect their lands. This in turn led the central king to slow down his advance towards Huaylas, in fear of further variables. There has been significant political wrangling in Arguna ever since. Both sides have wasted much silver in the Moonlight Ziggurat. Ultimately, it appears as if House Ichilia will retain its position among the noble houses, in return for a large amount of compensation towards their nominal king. Nevertheless, Loreius Ichilia seems destined to lose his title as Governor of the West, at the very least, and House Ichilia's attempts to wrestle control of the kingdom from their king seems to have failed for good."

"Hmph. It seems like my brothers have already dealt with the governors in their lands, while I am still stuck with mine."

Faced with his king's annoyed outburst, Inkasius really couldn't add anything. After all, he couldn't well say that the main reason there was still unrest within the northern kingdom was his king's slavish insistence to replace all traditions and religion of Medala with those of the Chutwa Empire. This sort of talk would certainly get him punished, especially in front of Grand Master Ichtaka. However, the next report he had to make wouldn't be much better for his king's mood.

"in addition..." he hesitated, although he knew that it would only buy him a few moments.

"What? Out with it!" An impatient Amautu asked once again.

"Lord Instea has also entered Arguna under King Pachacutec's protection."

Of course, everyone present would know what that meant. If nothing else, King Amautu would be well aware of the implications. Back during the first conflicts between the northern and central kingdom, House Instea had switched sides, together with House Gratidia had switched sides. They had left behind the chaotic, illegitimate and unstable rule of Pachacutec in the central kingdom, and had joined the stronger and more legitimate Kingdom of the North instead.

However, it had only been three years, and it seemed like one of them was already regretting his decision. It was only another in a long line of disobedient moves from the lords of the northern kingdom. Although Inkasius knew that they were simply desperate in the face of a king who tried to turn them into slaves of a foreign power, their king reacted with an indignation as if they had simply betrayed him for no reason.

"Again!" Amautu shouted, more annoyed than angered. "These blasted barbarians dare to defy me once more! Do they not understand that we only want the best for them!? Why would they continue to make trouble when we want to enlighten them!? Do they want to remain as fools forever!?"

At last, it was no longer up to Inkasius to reply to his irate king. Instead, the king's senior brother leaned forward, finally speaking up once more.

"In that case, junior brother, it appears as if we cannot rely on the local forces any longer. The attempt to let them see the light has failed. If the scholastic union wishes to convert them to the right side, more forceful methods are required, as well as outside support. Thus, junior brother should quickly make a decision on his future partner from among master's recommendations."

Of course, the choice of marriage partner was a big deal for any king. However, Amautu had been forced to choose between a few kingdoms in the north-west, all of which were dependencies of the Chutwa Empire. The choice, ultimately, was meaningless, since all potential partners had already been vetted by Amautu's master Ichtaka.

Everyone understood what this sort of union would mean for Medala and its status as an independent country, which was just another reason for the lords to oppose their king's actions. Even Amautu, a man so thoroughly taken in by the scholars, seemed to understand that he couldn't just give up all his power like this. Yet he couldn't just defy his senior brother's words without offending their master. Thus, Amautu ignored him for now and instead asked his servant another question.

"And what about the western islands? Will the Arcavians retreat from there as well?"

"Indeed, that appears to be part of the agreement with the southern kingdom," Inkasius replied. "Without support from the foreigners, the pirates will eventually lose to the southern kingdom's fleet, that much seems inevitable. However, the various pirate leaders will not give up so easily. There are many islands in the Verduic Sea, and these pirates know the terrain very well. Disciple suspects that the defeated pirates will hide within coves and hidden bays. From there, they will continue their resistance against the southern kingdom's forces. Surely, chaos will reign in the west for a long time to come."

Again, Inkasius brought bad news, but at least it wasn't anything that would significantly worsen the north's position in the short term. Just as Amautu leaned forward, presumably to give his orders in regards to the islands, the king's teacher behind him once more bent forward, back into the light.

"Troublesome..." the old man mumbled while holding the south's constitution in one hand. Immediately, Amautu's senior brother jumped up from his seat in response.

"What is it, master? What have the barbarians written?"

"All people shall be equal from birth. Special protections for commoners, and a particular focus on the importance of their king and worldly government. Their system appears legalist at a glance, but it is filled with lies." Thus the old legalist Ichtaka summed up the value - or lack thereof - of the new laws of the south. When Inkasius had read them, he had thought they were quite reasonable, but then again, what did he know compared to this great scholar? Though honestly, they were probably just upset because the constitution left no space for a special status for Chutwa scholars. The reaction from Ichtaka's head disciple confirmed as much.

"Then it ignores the inherent dangers of leaving the fate of the country to the commoners and the nobles, while denying access to power to those most suitable to wield?" the senior disciple added.

Of course, those most suitable ot wield power were the scholars, who had trained in the art of governance from a young age. Though of course, that didn't have to be said in this room. Apart from Inkasius, everyone here was in full agreement with this assertion.

"Indeed," Master Ichtaka said. "It appears as if these poor souls are even more lost than their barbarian brothers further north. The scholar's unioon should do everything in its power to guide them back to the right path."

Thus, without a word from the king, the northern kingdom's new policy direction had been set. Although Amautu had wanted to focus on internal rectification and his ongoing conflict with Pachacutec for a while now, it seemed like the number of their goals would increase again, further splitting their focus and reducing their effectiveness. As if on queue, the already overwhelmed Inkasius received even more work.

"In that case, go and collect as much information on that kingdom as possible, head disciple," Amautu ordered. "We will have to know more about the extent of their folly before we can teach them of the right ways."

At least Amautu had done his best to stall for a while. Maybe they would gain some time to focus on important matter, before they were once again distracted by the endless spread of the Chutwa faith. Glad that his king had subtly resisted the foreigners for once, Inkasius replied with a smile.

"Disciple obeys, master."

Finally, the warrior bowed and turned, to leave the room which made him so uncomfortable. In here, his king's senior brother and his king's master sat in darkness and schemed the country's future, to make a mockery of everything Medala stood for.

As the warrior left, he briefly thought back to the Verdant Isles as well. He still hadn't received any orders with regards to the region, though he would be damned if he reminded his king. After he had received today's pile of impossible orders, he wouldn't want to make any more work for himself. In the first place, with the different pirate forces still embroiled in a lengthy, costly tug-of-war, the Verduic Sea didn't seem like a pressing issue.

It seems those islands will not matter much for some time to come, he erroneously thought.

_______________________

While the world was changing rapidly several hundred kilometers to the east, everything was still as usual in Rasacopa. Ever since the fleet of Saniya had gotten involved in the war and the former Captain Tayali had been removed from power, the fighting had moved far away from the Green Island. Thus, war had spread from the Green Island, and the entire rest of the Verduic Sea had become a battlefield.

Shortly after, their new Queen Sumaci had left as well, to support her husband in the war he was fighting at home. Meanwhile, her own war in her own country still remained unresolved. However, the people weren't too unhappy with their current situation, despite their leader's neglect.

After all, they could barely feel the traces of war by this point. Ever since the combined fleets of the medalan king and the Green Queen had secured the route between Rasa Bay and Saniya along the islands of Yua and Iska, normalcy had been reinstated in Rasacopa.

Since most soldiers had come from Saniya by this point, no more people were being recruited into the war, and prices had begun to drop as well. Especially food had become cheap with the influx of fertilizer and cheap grain from Saniya.

Even more, most people had too much work to do, so they didn't have time for idle thoughts. Before their ruler had left, she had ordered a number of large public works projects, which had kept everyone busy so far.

By this point, the island was mostly running itself. Saniya's General Paec was still around, but he was too busy fighting the war against the other Verdant Kings throughout the islands to focus on local administration. Meanwhile, Lady of Green Sisa would rarely get involved in politics in the first place.

Now, months after their queen had left, the queen's orders were still being carried out dutifully, even though some of them had become unnecessary long ago.

And so it came to be that the eagles of Rasacopa were stuck in the middle of the jungle in the center of the Green Island, in a place with no name, because no human had ever set foot there. At first, their goal had been to surveil the land slated for deforestation. On those lands, between Rasa Bay and Amchay point to the south-east, the queen had been planning to plant cotton and other crops for export or refinement in the newly built manufactories.

However, the scouts had eventually surveiled all the lands in that direction, and the workers couldn't cut down the forest fast enough to catch up. Thus, since the eagles couldn't be asked to just sit around, they had been told to 'just keep going' by overworked bureaucrats.

By now, they had already investigated land deep into the forest, far away from any human settlements. And there, they made a discovery which would fundamentally change the very civilization they had come from, forever.

"Hey, what do you think this is?" one of them shouted, as he picked up a dark stone and turned it in the light which shone through the thick canopy of the primeval forest above them. Soon, a second eagle joined the first, and picked another, similar stone off the ground. He rubbed it between his hands, and the black rock left a slightly oily, black powder behind.

"Looks like coal," he stated in a voice that didn't care. Despite their massive find, neither man had any idea what kind of epoch-changing discovery they had made.

"Well," the first added with a shrug, "at least we will have something to report today."

Thus, the two eagles left the area, with a few black rocks added to their backpacks to prove their discovery.

At a much later date, even more people would return to this unnamed piece of land in the middle of the jungle. Even later yet, all the trees would make way for the largest manufacturing hub in the world.

Although most people within the twin kingdoms of the Green Island and southern Medala were still just as unaware as the coal's two discoverers had been, times were slowly changing, irreversibly towards the future.

Hermit's Notes: There we are, the ending of Book 6, something I had to work on for a while. This used to be like 3 chapters, but I somehow condensed it down to one, since it felt like I was droning on too much (though in the end it's still almost the length of two chapters anyways). I also just wanted to get the book done, since it really dragged on towards the end (in my opinion)

Also, this chapter came a day late, since I spent a couple days organizing and re-planning my outline for Book 7. It might end up with a more complex structure than this one, so it's been a lot more work than I thought. First chapter of that book will probably come tomorrow, unless I decide to spend another day shuffling chapter ideas around.

Chapter 417 - Winners, Losers, DNF

On the Forty-Seventh Day of Spring, in the sixth year of the Era of Strife, the civil war within the Southern Kingdom of Medala ended with the signing of the Peace of Antila.

In the final peace agreement, the two arcavian kingdoms of Cahlia and Borna gave up control over Port Ulta, their only possession on medalan territory. At the same time, the kingdoms agreed to retreat their fleets from the Verduic Sea, which acknowledged the Sea as Medala's sphere of influence for years to come.

Although the arcavian side was not willing to admit defeat in an official capacity due to the impact such a loss would have had to the oversees projects of the countries, a nominal payment of war reparations was deemed acceptable by both sides, as it implied an admission of guilt from the two kingdoms.

In return, the arcavian side retained full access to the southern kingdom's markets, and all prisoners of the southern army were returned unharmed, and with no further hostage payment, as was custom at the time.

Although the southern kingdom emerged victorious from the war, direct combat in foreign lands had proven far too costly and inefficient for the arcavian side. As a result, they were equally happy with the agreed terms, eager to return to a pre-war relationship with Medala in pursuit of a less aggressive oversees strategy.

- excerpt from 'A Comprehensive History of Medala Part III: The Era of Strife'

__________________________

"Impossible! The sons of Arcavus would never agree to such humiliating terms!" Hakon of Padrava screamed. At first, he had shown up all happy to see his former ally Corco. He had even looked happy when he had seen that Antila had been lost already, though Corco could tell that he was secretly clenching his fists.

However, once they had retreated into this quiet room of Lord Sucopia's manor to begin negotiations and Corco had presented his kingdom's conditions for an end to the fighting, the margrave had immediately lost his composure. Yet in contrast to the screaming Lord of Padrava, Corco remained calm, seated with his legs crossed and a tea in front of him, as if he was on a summer outing in the countryside.

"That's what happens when you lose a war," he explained. "You get humiliated. How is this a surprise to you, Hakon?"

As always, he would be polite and patient towards his friends. Back when he was still a merchant in Arcavia, Corco had cultivated good relations with Hakon of Padrava, so he kindly reminded him of the current power imbalance between their sides. Although the lord seemed to take the hint rather poorly, he finally sat down after a few more seconds of huffing and puffing.

Meanwhile, Fadelio was quietly cleaning up the mess around their guest.

"Even so, these conditions are too much," the margrave finally complained. "I understand returning control over Port Ulta. That was a condition I was willing to offer in the first place. However, forcing all of our merchants to leave the territory without compensation is too much."

"Kindly fuck off, will you?" Corco made another well-meaning offer. "You know how these guys got that land, and the dumping prices they bought it for. I understand that Devaerter and the other greedy bastards will make trouble for you back home for recovering the money that they've rightfully robbed from my people. But again, that's what you get for losing the war."

However, in the face of reality, Hakon still insisted on arguments.

"It is not a matter of money alone. These merchants cannot simply be forced to take their business and leave from one day to the next. It is unjust."

But all those Medalans displaced in the war could do that no problem, right?

Although Corco was annoyed by Hakon's shamelessness, he slowly sipped his tea to stay level-headed. Thus calmed by the soothing bitterness, he made a new offer.

"In that case, they are free to repurchase the land they've just lost. They'll just have to pay market prices this time. It's prime real estate in my kingdom's best port on the east coast, so they better pay what they owe."

"If the southern kingdom wishes to negotiate like this, humiliating a country that has always remained a staunch ally, then there is no need to talk at all."

With another huffed complaint, Hakon jumped up again to leave the negotiating table. Meanwhile, Corco still calmly sipped his tea.

"Alright, that's fine too," he said. "In that case, I wish you good luck trying to defend Port Ulta once our army starts marching east."

In Hakon's most eloquent response yet, he just grumbled under his breath for a few seconds, before he sat back down yet again. After all, the Arcavians were much more eager for a peace than Corco right now. Now that the cheap bluff had been called, the king once more explained his opponents position, out of the goodness of his heart.

"Listen up, friend, since I won't repeat myself again. Right now, you still have a few cards left to play. Not many, since you delivered Epunamo Villca straight to our hands, but still, a few. There's still things I want that you can provide us with, like an intact Port Ulta. But if you don't sign something soon, the only choice you'll be left with is unconditional surrender. Once we reach that point, you can forget about routing your trade lines through my lands at all."

Finally, the threat of sanctions to Cahlia's economic lifeline showed results. Hakon sank into his seat, visibly deflated.

"Fine. However, we will not pay this ridiculous compensation. These numbers are unacceptable."

In response, Corco raised his tea-cup in the direction of the open window.

"Look outside," he said, much to Hakon's confusion.

"Pardon me?"

"I'm asking you to look out the window," the king repeated. "It's a simple request."

Finally, Hakon stood up for a third time in minutes, and walked up to view the outside. Although the king remained seated, he knew exactly what the city looked like from here. After all, he hadn't chosen this room at random. From this high vantage point, his guest would have a perfect vantage point over the ruin that was once Antila.

"This is the horror your country has caused in mine," Corco explained, his voice now cold. "So, as far as I'm concerned, our offer is perfectly reasonable. We've made our own calculations. The amount of reparations stipulated is equal to the amount of money we will need to feed, clothe and shelter the people who have suffered from the destruction of Kapra and Antila for a year. That is a cost we will have to bear as they slowly rebuild their homes."

Of course, the figures were inflated to account for futuer negotiations. However, It seemed like Hakon had more pressing concerns. He spun around to face his back on the ruined city and shouted: "That had nothing to do with our kingdom!"

Anxiety written all over his face, the margrave walked towards Corco, which prompted a response from the guards around the king as well. First however, Corco's fist landed on the table. Now he had finally lost his patience with Hakon's deceptive arguments. Luckily, the cup was already empty, so it spilled no tea when it fell over from the impact. Everyone else froze as the king berated his former ally.

"Neither Mayu, nor House Ogulno, nor the pirate lords of the Verdant Isles, nor any of the others would have dared to stab us in the back if they hadn't been secretly supported by you!" he threw the truth in Hakon's face. "While Kapra was razed by those lords who acted with your tacit approval, your own knights were still pretending to be bandits in the midland hills, covering the advance of the rebels and creating fake internal issues, which the traitorous lords used for political capital. So don't give me that 'nothing to do with us' shit. Say again that it had nothing to do with you, just one more time, and you'll have to crawl back to Port Ulta on all fours."

Throughout his speech, Corco's voice grew quieter, but also deeper. Yet despite the pressure, Hakon was still stubborn.

"I can guarantee on my honor, the kingdom of Cahlia was never-"

"Fuck you. Borna was involved then," the king interrupted him quickly, in an even calmer, quieter voice.

"However, we are separate kingdoms," Hakon tried again, but Corco wasn't fooled. Instead, he simply pointed out the truth to uncover the cheap lies.

"Yet here you are, ready to sign an agreement on their behalf."

"You killed Duke Herak of Balit!" Hakon argued, fake indignation on his face. "Now that their leader has been so viciously slain, there is no one else left who could sign for the Kingdom of Borna."

All the melodrama somehow calmed Corco down again. Even after all these years, he was still too quick to lose his cool. Now however, his mind was clear once more, and the margrave's ridiculous arguments almost made him laugh.

"Oh come on," he joked. "Since when have Cahlians and Bornish ever been friends? I got rid of an enemy for you, you should be happy. You're not gonna hold that against me, are you?"

Finally, Hakon was speechless, so the king continued the conversation for him.

"I get it. You guys were betting on both sides. One kingdom supports a policy of violent conquest, and the other continues to play friendly with us, in case the first plan doesn't work out. But you got too greedy too fast. Now that one side has failed so spectacularly, you'll both have to pay up. Tough luck."

Such a sudden encounter with the truth seemed to have shocked Hakon awake. Rather than rage around the room some more, he silently returned to his seat. Only after a few seconds of deep thought did, he reply again.

"Even so, paying this much will be impossible for the kingdom," he finally replied after coming up with more lies. "Yes, the kingdom's finances are abundant, but this is not only a matter of money. It is also a matter of prestige."

Of course, Corco understood the argument, and it was actually a pretty decent one this time. For years now, overseas trade and expansion had been the main foreign policy direction of Cahlia. If they had to admit to such a costly failure, their king's entire long-term strategy would be put into question. However, Corco had the perfect solution for the problem.

"In that case, we can just give a public figure that's much lower than the real number," he suggested. "That way you can pretend that your little overseas plans are still going well. You will be paying the proper sum, of course. I won't pay the tab for the crimes you've committed."

Once again, Hakon had to sigh.

"Very well," he said, now completely deflated once more. "However, the final demand in your offer is simply impossible. We cannot be asked to remove all of our ships from the Verduic Sea. Ever since our merchants have begun to use trade routes from Medala to Chutwa, they have repeatedly become victims of pirate attacks. Our ships are only present in the west to protect the property of our citizens. Denying us basic protection is unreasonable."

"If you didn't want pirates, you shouldn't have supported the pirates there to start a pirate war. Just a little tip for the future." Corco almost laughed at Hakon's miserable look. "If your people feel unsafe, then maybe once your guys disappear, the lord of the Verdant Isles can win their civil war, and then pirate activity will slow down immediately."

Though of course, Corco didn't have to mention that the lord of the Verdant Isles was his wife, or that the only ones who would be safe from pirate attacks in the future would be the merchants who had routed their trade through the southern kingdom. Naturally, both parties at the table understood the truth very well.

Once Sumaci won her war in the west, the safety of the trade route would be completely under control of the southern kingdom, thus bankrupting the arcavian strategy of playing the medalan kingdoms against each other.

Almost brought to tears, Hakon tried one last time. This time, he no longer appealed to reason. All that was left was emotional blackmail.

"King Corco. Please look upon our past relationship and show leniency. I cannot go back and present such a deal. If I am held responsible for ruining the king's plan, even my title could be in danger. Remember how I helped you back when you were still a merchant in Arcavia. Please help me out at least on this final point, for the sake of our old friendship."

However, Corco only had a cold sneer to offer in reply.

"Helped me out?" He scoffed. "You mean when you bought my property at rock-bottom prices once I was forced to rush back home?"

Before Hakon could argue again, Corco interrupted him.

"And if you want to talk about scamming Herak, that cost you nothing, and even benefited you. We can stop talking about the pirates now, since I won't budge on this point. My wife is involved in that war in the Verduic Sea, you know? She's the rightful ruler there. Mark my words: There can be no peace between us so long there's still a chance for you to support her enemies again."

Finally, Hakon sighed one final time, before he picked up the feather quill to sign the preliminary agreement between both sides. Of course, their officials would work out the exact details of the contract, but with this signature, the war was as good as over.

Finally, as he watched peace return to the lands which had seen so much war as of late, a genuine smile returned to Corco face.

"On the plus side, at least all your guys stuck in the Verduic Sea finally get to go home now, right?" he joked in front of his defeated opponent. "I'm sure they will be very happy to hear that."

Though at least for one of the brave Arcavians who were fighting for their lives among the Verdant Isles, such news came a bit too late.

__________________________

While the great lords were fighting over benefits in Antila, an entirely different conflict was being staged on an unnamed island in the center of the Verdant Isles.

"Let go," Felian Northdale ordered in a stern voice, while trying to drag a small, one-man sailboat towards the shore. By now, he had spent years in the wet heat of the Verdant Isles, fighting a losing battle with no supplies and no men. In the process, his master Herak of Balit had blamed him for every single failure, especially those that had been the duke's fault. Now, finally, after years of patience, Felian was done.

He would just leave their latest battlefield, and live the rest of his days in peace and quiet, on some uninhabited island somewhere. At least that had been the plan. Unfortunately, Felian's equally unlucky attendant had spotted his attempt, and now he was desperately holding on to the other end of the boat.

"Sire, please," Attendant Arlon begged. "We cannot continue without you."

"Bad luck, you will have to," Felian just said, and pulled the boat another half foot further down the beach.

"But sire, the men need you. We are all relying on you."

Strangely, Arlon wasn't even talking about desertion, something Felian was grateful for. After all, he had given too much over these years, and their situation was too dire. Now he knew that no one would really blame him for abandoning his unreasonable lord. Still, despite the gratitude, Felian remained unmoved.

"Rely on someone else," he said, as he continued to pull the boat towards the water, despite his attendant's best efforts. Gravity was on his side, so he would win out sooner or later.

"Sire, lord duke has relied on you so much, surely you will receive a great reward."

Now, the attendant was trying to appeal to Felian's greed, but the knight wasn't fooled.

"Oh, what will it be this time? Another impossible mission, half a world away from my home?" he laughed bitterly. "Forget that. Before that damn duke shows up again, I have to disappear. Otherwise, I will be tasked with yet another impossible mission. The worst thing I did in my life was show my ability in front of that bastard."

Although he insulted their master, neither man was shocked, nor mentioned another word of it. Instead, Arlon's face became determined.

"Only if I cannot stop you from leaving, sire," he finally said. For a second, the two men stared at each other, as Arlon's plan slowly dawned on Felian.

"Help!" the attendant shouted towards their camp further inland.

"Fine, fine! Shut up, will you!?" Felian begged. Once Arlon had finally stopped shouting, the knight sighed. It looked like he wouldn't be allowed to go until he had explained himself.

"You want to know why I want to leave so badly?"

In response to his question, Arlon just nodded.

"Apart from all the everything, the endless war, the disease, the constant exploitation, never getting rewarded for my hard work... apart from all of that, I've received a letter."

He pulled out the letter from his breast pocket and threw it in Arlon's general direction. Although its contents were extremely private, Felian didn't care. He wasn't expecting to meet his attendant again anyways, or anyone mentioned in the letter, for that matter.

"That letter that was delivered with the last batch of supplies." The attendant understood.

"Yeah. It came from my family," Felian explained. "Looks like my fiancee got married recently."

Arlon picked up the letter and began to read.

"But sire, you are still here," the attendant replied dumbly after a while, which almost made the accomplished knight laugh.

"Yes, I noticed that," he finally said. "Anyways, I have decided that I do not want to return home. From now on, I would rather rely on myself than rely on others, least of all that bastard Herak. Before he can force me into any more impossible tasks, I would rather leave and strike out on my own. Worse, what if he rewards me with a return and I am forced to meet my fiancee's new husband? If you have ever considered me your master, if you have ever felt indebted to me, I would like you to make good on that debt now, and let go of the boat."

Finally, Arlon looked back up from the letter. His hand slid off the boat's hull, and he stepped back.

"Sire, what will you do in the future?" he simply asked. In response, Felian looked out into the Verduic Sea, the place which had brought him so much misery, but suddenly smelled so much like hope.

"I don't know yet," he said. "But this is something I should have done years ago. With my fate in my hands again, I am sure there will be many sunny days ahead.

Thus, his hands firmed on the boat again, he finally managed to push the vessel into the water. Not long after, Felian's last battlefield disappeared on the distant horizon.

Hermit's Notes: Happy New Year, everybody!!!

Last chapter of the year, and it's a big one!

The title is a bit silly, but I really liked it, so it's staying until someone complains. 

Alternate title: 'Felian Northdale, Finally Done With This Shit'

More Book0 Previews - Too Much at Once Edition

Hey there, Hermit here. 

After a lot of e

Chapter 416 - Survivors

The medical tent at the back of the southern army's main camp smelled of sweat and blood. Row upon row, soldiers lay on their straw mats and silently told of the war that had just come to an end. Among them lay two whose status was quite unusual, though they also couldn't have been more different.

One was a former scout, whose exploits would no doubt make him a hero after the end of the war. However, the status of the man lying next to him was even more peculiar.

"Alright then, Master Chalco. It looks like you have recovered well. You should be able to eat solid foods again, and your wounds have all scabbed over nicely. Just stay here and drink plenty of fluid for a few more days, and you'll be right as rain."

After the doctor had given his diagnosis to the warrior who used to be his enemy mere days ago, he left for the next patient. Surely, he would have many more to visit over the course of a day. Despite the man's friendly demeanor, Chalco couldn't help but consider just how many he would have to bury today alone, or how many had already died under his care.

"It's no wonder you guys won the war," he finally said as he lay back down on his cheap mat.

"What are you talking about, mole rat?"

In the bunk next to Chalco, Taki the heroic scout sat up as he replied.

"What a rude nickname you have given me, ear worm."

However, Taki sneered at Chalco's complaint.

"You kept calling our men moles and rats, just because we were better at digging than you. So you started it! And who's 'ear worm'!?"

"Whatever you say, ear worm." Chalco laughed. "You know how you got that name."

Before Taki could assault his ears again, Chalco preceded his next, screamed complaint.

"The doctor told you to rest, did he not?" he said. "Maybe you should listen to your experts."

For a few seconds, Taki returned a dirty look, before he sank back down onto his straw. Finally, there was some peace and quiet. Although the two were arguing, it made Chalco smile. Never had he expected to spend casual days like this with a commoner. However, compared to the miracle of their return, commoners and warriors getting along wasn't much of a shock.

The barrels of gunpowder that Taki had exploded had also destroyed Chalco's precious wall. At the time however, he had had no idea about any of that, nor had he cared. Rather, he had been under water already, and had just barely survived the explosion as a result. Even so, both him and Taki had been stuck under water, and in absolute darkness. In his attempt to feel around for some orientation, he had somehow got a hold of the unconscious body of the commoner who had gotten him into this mess.

Against his better judgment, Chalco had taken him along, and saved his life. After a desperate struggle, he had made it back out of the water at last. By pure chance, he had found a little pocket of air and a dry spot to stand on before he had run out of breath or strength.

Even so, he still hadn't been able see a thing, and Chalco had had no idea how to proceed. In the first place, he hadn't known where they had been at all. Since the original main tunnel of the southern army would have collapsed from the explosion, he had doubted their position to be anywhere near reinforcements.

After he had felt around for a while, he had also realized that they had been completely locked in, with the only way in and out of their cave being the water hole they had escaped from just before. It had taken hours until things finally turned for the better. More precisely, it had taken until Taki had woken up again.

This commoner somehow had better ears than almost all cultivators Chalco had ever met. Thus, he had been able to knock on the walls around them in search of hollow or weak parts. Finally, armed with a sense to rival their missing sight, they slowly began to make their way through the earth.

Taki would use his ears to check the road ahead for weaknesses, and Chalco would use his expertise in building these very tunnels to plan their advance. Thus, they had slowly made progress through the ground. Not only had they been exhausted and injured, they had also been forced into slow, careful progress to prevent a additional tunnel collapses that would have killed them both. Only the dirty water they had swam through had kept them alive in the end. By the time they had returned back above ground, almost three full days had passed. Their injuries had gotten infected, and both men had been completely exhausted.

Although Chalco had made his way outside, he hadn't been happy about his survival for too long. Because by the time they had returned, the war had been practically over. The city's walls had already been stormed. There had been no turning the tides anymore, no desperate last struggle Chalco had prepared himself for. In the end, the two had just been brought into one of the medical tents of the southern army, where they had experienced the end of the war in peace, though also surrounded by nasty smell and occasional screams of pain.

While Chalco was still sentimental about the past, his newest companion had already forgotten about his doctor's orders again, and was chattering away as usual.

"I just don't get what you mean. How did we win the war because of the doctors," Taki mumbled as he sat back up yet again. "We were the ones fighting and dying on the front line. What in the underworld did that guy do?"

"It is more than just the doctors." Chalco shook his head, almost too lazy to explain. However, he had nothing better to do, so he thought he may as well substantiate his thoughts. "You were not on the other side, ear worm. Only someone who has fought in Antila would know just how different our treatment was."

As he remembered the ruined house he had slept in for months, he stared up at the clean roof of the tent, tinted in a shining yellow from the midday sun.

"So what was the difference?"

"Well, Antila had no medical tents, for one. In fact, no one in that city has seen single doctor since the start of the war. Maybe our masters did, but they surely were not sharing them with us walking dead. Something like this," Chalco motioned around him. "a professionally organized medical tent, with real doctors and real medicine for every single military unit in your army, that is ridiculous luxury, unheard of in medalan combat."

"So how did you guys handle your wounds if you had no doctors?" Taki changed to sit cross-legged and turned towards Chalco, clearly interested.

"Most men in the allied army were cultivators," Chalco gladly explained to his eager listener. "Cultivators just sleep off the lighter injuries. For heavier ones, most warriors know how to handle them, to some degree. When one spends a lifetime in combat, they collect much practical experience after all."

"Didn't do you much good, did it?" Taki laughed, as if the southern army's victory had been solely his achievement. To be honest, Chalco was dismissive of the scout's 'hero' title. Though he would never say so, since he didn't want to upset his new companion, he was convinced that the southern army's victory had been inevitable from the start, hero or not.

"You say that, but we never really had a chance. I understand that even better now that I have seen your camp. I told you, it's not just the doctors. I have never seen such a well-organized military camp. And I have not eaten this well since the start of the war either."

Chalco sighed. Had he known about the absolute difference in overall strength earlier, maybe he would have helped the southerners win the war sooner, instead of trying to prevent them all this time. Maybe that way, less of his home would have been destroyed, and fewer of his friends would have died. However, someone seemed blissfully unaware of his privileged position.

"Actually, the food's been getting worse," Taki moaned. "I heard we're supplying the refugees from the city. Why not feed the soldiers who won the war, rather than those enemies?"

"See, that's what I meant. Our standards are different. How could you ever complain when all your food is clean, and fills your stomach." For a second, Chalco thought on the second part of Taki's statement, before he continued in a somber tone. "But it is good that your king takes care of Antila's survivors, at least."

In response, Taki grinned. "Hey, he's your king too now."

"I suppose that is the truth. It has become more and more obvious why his subjects seem to revere him so much. As soon as the fighting stopped, he did everything he could to help the people of Antila. Our own master has never treated us this well, not even the warriors, let alone the commoners. And ever since the start of the war, our life has become even worse. Most people were little more than fodder to our noble masters."

Today, the two of them had been allowed to walk around a bit for the first time. 'Light exercise', their doctor had called it. In the distance, they had been able to see the burning remains of what once had been Antila. Of course, from their vantage point they had only seen everything this side of the outer wall, but that had been more than enough.

Fires could be seen raging beyond the walls, or what was left of them. Chalco's greatest work was little more than a mountain of rubble by now, no longer salvageable, and the trenches that surrounded the city were filled with former citizens of Antila, now without a home. Surely, the inside of the city would look even worse than it had when he had last seen it, and it had already been in ruins then.

Thus, a depressing silence covered the entire tent, as Chalco mourned the destruction of his home, and the death of those who had stood to defend it.

"So what do you plan to do now?" Taki finally said, in an annoyingly chipper voice.

"What could this master do?" a mirthless voice came back. "The city is destroyed, my family has perished in the war, and my greatest work has been shot to ruins by those blasted cannons. Where to go from here, maybe only the Divines would know."

"Well, it's not that bad, is it? At least you're still alive." When Taki saw Chalco's nasty look, he clearly realized that he had said something wrong, so the scout flinched back and changed his tone. "I mean, maybe you can try to rebuild your city yourself, right?"

If only things were that simple, friend.

While Chalco only sighed in response at first, he knew that the scout wouldn't stop asking questions anyways. Thus, he tried to distract him with his own question.

"And what do you plan to do, ear worm?" he thus asked.

"Well, once I'm better, I guess I'll go back to Saniya. Maybe I'll find something to do where I don't have to kill people. I don't like war." Taki's simple statement resonated deeply with both men. "But first, I'll have to find out if Qhatuq has family living somewhere. If he does, I want to make sure they're taken care of. And even if I can't find a body anymore, at least I want to erect a small beacon for Qhatuq somewhere. At least that much, I owe him."

Of course, Taki had told Chalco about his dead companion Qhatuq before. Since he had died on the same hill Chalco and Pari had tried to take, the architect thought it prudent to just stay quiet and keep his involvement in the battle a secret. Thus, both men turned silent for once. Yet only seconds later, the somber moment was interrupted by a sudden shout from their right.

"Who's dead, huh, rookie?"

Without either of them noticing, a figure had appeared at the entrance of the tent. The man was a bit short, and quite thin and pale, but he still carried himself like a soldier. That was the case even though he was missing a leg, and walking on crutches.

"A ghost!" Taki screamed, and scrambled off his mat in shock.

"Shut it, rookie!" the one-legged figure shouted back. "You're the ghost!"

For a second, Taki only stared stupidly, before he finally reacted.

"Wait. Qhatuq? It's really you?"

"Who else could it be, idiot? I see you're still not the brightest." the one-legged soldier said, this time with a sneer on his face.

"Quatuq! You're alive!"

From one moment to the next, Taki's eyes lit up like stars. As if he wasn't injured at all, he jumped back to his feet and rushed at the new arrival for a hug.

"That's what I said. Now stop pushing me, you're gonna shove me over!"

As Qhatuq tried to hold off the overenthusiastic Taki with one hand, he struggled to stay upright by holding onto his crutches with the other. Finally, the young scout managed to calm himself a bit and took a step back.

"Wait, your leg," he finally realized in shock. "What happened?"

"Well, turns out, they didn't kill me on that damned hill. They did catch me though, and then sent me back to their city. They asked some questions, but how much can they get out of a normal soldier? Just in case they wanted to trade me for one of their guys some time later, they kept me alive, since I'm technically an officer. They didn't try very hard with the keeping alive part though. Starved me half to death, and they didn't fix the ankle I broke in the fight, so it festered and they just took it off."

"That's horrible. Are you..." For a second, Taki tried to read in Qhatuq's impassive face, in search for words. However, finally he only came up with: "How are you?"

"Lighter." Qhatuq laughed, before he continued in a somber tone. "I'll survive somehow."

Chalco was impressed by this commoner's resilience. In comparison, what right did he have to complain? If nothing else, he still had all his limbs, as well as the entire rest of his life, to regain what had been lost.

"Anyways," Qhatuq continued, "Our guys took the city and freed all the prisoners. I was told you had somehow survived even without my supervision, and so I came over to see how you were doing."

"Ah, I'm great!" When the talk came back to him, Taki finally perked up, and pointed at his chest to show off his achievements. "I'm a war hero, you know?"

As the two friends shared an emotional reunion, Chalco felt like an outsider once more. As an enemy combatant, he had, of course, always been one. Still, he felt uncomfortable just lying here and intruding on the moment.

I should go see if Qori survived the final days, he suddenly thought. I hope he didn't try to be a hero.

Beyond the safety of his friend, he also thought about his own plans for the future. Considering the way he had been treated by the enemy so far, he doubted that he would become a prisoner, at least not for long. So he had his freedom, and he had his health.

Still, staying here didn't seem like an option for now. The city was almost completely destroyed. He wouldn't be able to rebuild it, not in an entire lifetime, not by himself. However, he didn't know where else to go. Only now did he realize that he knew far too little about the world outside of his medical tent.

"Excuse me," he finally interrupted the talk between the friends. "Qhatuq, was it?"

"Yes. It seems like you saved this idiot's life." the one-legged man replied. "Thank you for that."

"Ah, for the most part, I was focused on saving this life," Chalco pointed at his chest. "In the process, another one may have been saved, and he may have even helped out in the process."

"Well, either way, I think we owe you a favor," Qhatuq said. It seemed like this commoner  had much better manners than the irresponsible ear worm.

"In that case, could you tell me what is happening on outside? What will happen to Antila in the future?"

"Well, I was also only released yesterday, so I don't really know." Qhatuq frowned. "Though I heard that our king is negotiating with the foreigners these days. It looks like they're willing to pay a massive compensation to end the war peacefully."

"Looks like we'll finally be able to go home then," Taki added.

"That is good new," Chalco agreed.

Inside however, he felt nostalgic again. No matter how much money the Kingdom of the South would receive, their king certainly wouldn't use it to rebuild his home. And if he did, surely that wise king wouldn't entrust the rebuilding project to someone who had fought against the southern army mere days earlier. Since Chalco had been to their capital before, he knew very well just how many capable architects Saniya had. They wouldn't have to rely on him.

Maybe, he thought, the smartest move would be to go to the southern capital as well, to prove his worth, and to accumulate strength. Then one day, he would return to Antila, the place of his birth and seat of his family, and restore it to its former glory; no, even greater glory than before!

First however, he would have to find out if Qori was still alive. In the strange lands he would soon enter, he surely could use a trustworthy friend by his side.

Hermit's Notes: Finally finished up this story line, I hope it was a satisfying conclusion. I always wanted for Qhatuq to survive, though I originally planned to let the other two die under the collapsed wall. I sorta changed my mind last minute, and I'm not sure if I've trivialized the war a bit that way, since everyone seems fine in the end.

Chapter 415 - What Remains of Our Past

After a long march through Antila, Corco and his two subordinates finally arrived at the goal of their journey.

In comparison to Antila's ruins in the outer city, Lord Sucopia's luxurious manor looked like it had just been renovated. Although there were some traces of combat left from the previous day, they were very all rather minor.

By the time Saniya's troops had overcome the outer city walls, Antila's defenders had long been exhausted. As a result, the handful of warriors still stationed at the inner city walls and the lord's manor had only held out for a short while before they had surrendered.

Since the manor was built on one of the few elevations in the entire city, it was possible to overlook the entire city from the extensive front garden. Surely, this would have been a majestic view several months back, with the port on the left and the sprawling city on the east, and the endless fields beyond the wall. Now however, Corco was no longer presented with beauty. All he saw were the consequences of his actions.

From here, the destruction of the city was even more obvious than it had been up close. Apart form the three giant corridors that had been carved through the outer city by the defenders, almost every other house had also been damaged to some degree. For a while, he struggled to find a single building that wasn't partially destroyed. Although Fadelio had said that the fires had been put out already, he could still see smoke rising in several places.

Or maybe that's just homeless people making fires out in the streets, he guessed. Even further in the distance was the mountain of rubble, which had once been the best defensive system south of the Narrows. Further, beyond the wall, the former fields of the city were now just a waterlogged mess of trenches and mud, unsuitable for any kind of farming.

Faced with this depressing view, Corco felt regret for his actions once more. His own decisions had caused all of this chaos, as had his own mistakes. If only he hadn't been so radical in his reforms, the other lords wouldn't have felt forced to rebel. If only he had been faster in his attacks and caught the remnants of the rebel army before they reached Antila, all of this could have been prevented.

However, there was no changing the past, and he didn't think he would change anything anyways, not even if he had a time machine. Instead, he would just have to live with the consequences of his actions.

After he had failed to drive away his dark thoughts with a sigh, he turned around, back towards the manor which housed the main seat of House Sucopia. Nothing would please him more than to just enter the building and leave behind his troubles for some cathartic vengeance. However, before he could enjoy his afternoon with some revenge, he would have to finish his work first. He had never been one to delay his duties, and he didn't want to develop the habit.

"Anything left to take care of before we go in?" he thus asked his attendant. "I don't wanna be distracted while I'm having fun."

Fadelio looked down on the list which contained their itinerary for the day, before he replied.

"There is still the topic of food supply."

Again, Corco sighed, before he looked at the destroyed fields in the distance once more. "Okay, how bad is it?"

In response, Fadelio collected himself visibly as well, and then delivered the bad news.

"In terms of long-term food production, there are some issues. It's still spring, so there is plenty of time to sow the crops for summer harvest. However, all the farmland around the city has been thoroughly destroyed. The trenches and tunnels need to be removed or repurposed as irrigation canals, but the spring water has already filled most of them, so everything is waterlogged now. It seems impossible for us to clean up everything in time for sowing. I suggest we forget about wheat and turn the surrounding land into paddy fields. That way we might have a bit less work, and recover some food production by the fall of this year."

"So it's not that much of an issue," Corco concluded. "Once we take Port Ulta, we can just supply the city from the river until the farms have recovered. At most it'll cost us a bit more money."

However, there is a also massive shortfall of grain in the short term," Fadelio burst Corco's bubble. "Antila's storage is almost entirely empty, and further deliveries along the Uskaylla River from Port Ulta have stopped now that we've taken the city. Although the local population has gone down considerably since the start of the war, feeding the remaining people with our supplies alone will put a lot of pressure on Lord Huaman's logistics system. If we invest too much in this area, it might delay our next march to the east."

"Then delay it," Corco waved away Fadelio's concerns. "We have the war won anyways. I'd rather drag it out for longer than seem callous towards my own people. Not after the reputation as great unifier I've just built. So that's a compromise we'll have to make."

"Very well."

While Fadelio wrote down his orders, Corco looked towards the manor once more.

"So is that it?" he asked again. This time, Fadelio gave the answer he wanted to hear.

"Yes, that is the last item on today's schedule." Fadelio said with a smile, and then pointed towards the manor. "If you want, you are free to go in and meet our honorable guests, master."

Although it was a bit strange for Corco to do his work out in the open like this, he really couldn't stay in his tent any longer. For one, he needed to see the city for himself to get a more accurate picture that wasn't clouded by sycophantic reports. More importantly however, he had come to hold responsible those who had caused this war, and more importantly, had caused the horrors he had seen in Kapra. He would never let go of the chance to administer this justice directly, even if he had to do his work while walking. Finally, they were done with the work, so it was time for the fun part.

As Corco passed through the intricately carved portal of the manor's main entrance, he thought back to the destruction he had seen back in Kapra, as well as the destruction he had just seen on his way here. At the thought of all the pointless blood and fire, his own blood started to boil again.

"What about our guests?" he asked with a grim wrath brewing in his stomach. "Are we sure we caught everyone?"

"Sucopia sent his family to Arguna in advance, but both him and Lord Churici were caught without any resistance," Fadelio replied. "Both were dead drunk when we arrived, and made no attempts to flee the manor. Though I wonder if they even understood that they had lost the war."

"Good, I wouldn't want to deny them the chance to stand trial for their crimes. What about my uncle?"

Although the other two lords were just as responsible for the massacre in Kapra — as well as the tenacious local defense — Corco was still more concerned with Ogulno, his own uncle. After all, the lord of the copper hills had been instrumental in the civil war from the very start. He was the first to organize resistance among the southern lords towards their new king. Not to mention, Ogulno was the only one whose punishment the king had vowed in public. Luckily, Fadelio's words eased Corco's concerns.

"Yeah, he just sat in his room when our troops arrived, and didn't offer any resistance. Although he didn't seem drunk, he has yet to respond to anyone, and neither has he moved. If you want, we can go there right now,."

Maybe others would have said 'no need'. Maybe they wouldn't have wanted to embarrass an already defeated foe further, or maybe they would have wanted to appear magnanimous towards their subordinate or family member, but Corco felt a dark pleasure at the thought of the mass-murderer getting his just desserts.

"Yes, please," he thus said, and followed Fadelio up the stairs. At the end of a long corridor was another large, ornate portal, behind which House Sucopia would accommodate only its most important guests. The presence of guards in front of the door, members of Saniya's line infantry, proved that Ogulno was still behind, stewing in his own regrets. Although Corco was excited to enter, something unexpected happened before he could. An unexpected bang rang out from within the room, to everyone's shock. Immediately, chaos erupted throughout the manor.

"Everyone back!" Fadelio shouted as he threw himself on top of his master. At the same time, more guards poured out from every corner of the manor. Meanwhile, the guards at the door entered the room to investigate, panic on their faces. They would be held accountable for any mistake, after all. However, the first shot remained the only one for a long time, and no hidden attackers were found anywhere nearby. Thus, it didn't take long until everyone had calmed down again.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Corco shouted, and stood up under aching pain. He gave his attendant a nasty look as he tried to straighten out his robes again. Once he was somewhat presentable once more, he saw a guard return from inside Ogulno's prison.

"What happened in there?" the king asked, and walked up to the guard.

"Great king, the inside is safe. Though it may be best to see for yourself."

Curious, Corco entered the room, and saw his uncle lying in his own blood. Next to him lay a pistol, the obvious culprit of the crime. Clearly, Ogulno had used the pistol to end his own life. However, for now, the king couldn't consider how Ogulno got his hands on a gun while in captivity. Because despite his best efforts, the lord of the copper hills was still alive.

His breath rattled, as every exhale of air was accompanied by a small squirt of blood that shot out of his neck, as well as a wet sound that made even Corco queasy. At this pace, the great lord would slowly drown in his own blood, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, even if they sent a doctor straight away. Wide-eyed and pale-faced, the lord simply looked up at his nephew, his reckoning.

His eyes told Corco of fear, and pain. Yet even more, they told him of deep regret. After all, Ogulno wasn't some random idiot. He had been a well-respected lord once. However, when Corco first arrived ion the south, he had bet wrong once and opposed the sudden king above his head. As a result, everything had escalated, and finally there had been no way out except rebellion.

Maybe the lord of the copper hills regretted his decisions even more than Corco did.

"What a failure I am. Can't even die right." Ogulno forced a few sounds out of his half-destroyed throat, his words barely audible by now. "Please, end it." he added, and closed his eyes to offer his destiny to the victor.

Although Corco had looked forward to his revenge just moments earlier, he hadn't expected it to look like this. Although he didn't feel the satisfaction he had expected, he didn't feel pity either, nor remorse for any of the pain he had inflicted to the noble lord.

Instead, he only felt a slight sadness over another life that had been wasted for no good reason, and relief that the war would soon be behind them. Silently, he swore that he would no longer allow any more pointless deaths. From now on, he would be more careful, and never again let his political power slip out of his control like it had this time.

With his determination made, he grabbed the pistol he always carried on his waist for protection, and cocked back the hammer.

"At least this one request, I will fulfill you, uncle," he said, and ended the lord's suffering. Although he didn't know it yet, it would be the last shot fired in the southern kingdom's civil war.

Once the deed was done, it took a long time for Corco to compose himself. When he left the room again, the hallway was still crowded with soldiers and warriors, but everyone was dead quiet. Finally, Fadelio had the mercy to walk up and break the silence.

"Master, an arcavian delegation has arrived from Port Ulta. They want to negotiate peace."

However, Corco was in no mood for any more diplomacy, not for today.

"Tell them to wait until tomorrow. Now that we've taken Antila, there's no more need to rush."

As he left the manor, to leave behind the queasy feeling in his stomach, the king wondered if tomorrow, the arcavian delegation would regret their actions as much as he and his uncle had. Just a bit, he was looking forward to it.

Hermit's Notes: I might update the next regular chapter tomorrow instead of in two days if things go well. 

Also, you may have noticed that I didn't end up posting more of Book0. I honestly underestimated how much work those chapters would be, though now I'm almost done (just need to proofread 3k words), so I can pretty much guarantee that I'll finally post it tomorrow. It's gonna be a big one.

Chapter 414 - Cleaning up the Rubble

A day after the charge that broke Anitla, the fires in and around the city had finally died down. By now, the former battlefield was largely pacified, and safe enough for the king to inspect his new holdings, with protection of course.

Thus, Corco — together with Fadelio and General Scolo, and surrounded by a hundred guards — finally crossed the star-shaped walls of Antila that he had first observed almost three months ago. However, despite their victory, the discussion of the visiting party wasn't too happy. Rather, the events of the previous day still lingered on.

"Luckily, you weren't there when that maniac attacked, boss," General Scolo said. "I thought my heart would stop when I saw that Herak rush in, all bloodied up from head to toe and with that monster-like face of his exposed."

"Well, why would I stay in that tent all day in the first place?"

Of course, the careful Corco would never stay that close to the front line unless he had to. He wasn't suicidal after all. There had been far too many attempts on his life in the past, so he had always been careful. Rather, during the final charge of the southern kingdom's combined armies, he had been far behind their troop tents, and even behind their medical tents. The logistics unit at the very back of their main camp had always been the most well-guarded part of their defensive setup, so that was exactly where he spent most of his days while he handled administrative work.

This time, his habitual paranoia had really paid off. Maybe Herak had heard from some of his captured Saniya troops that he was staying in that command tent near the front line. At least it would explain why he had been so confident in his suicidal attack. Those captives wouldn't have lied though, since most soldiers of the southern army thought that their miracle king was staying near the front line to watch over them in battle.

If course, that was just a convenient lie he had told the army. His presence would motivate the troops, or so he had been told, but there was no need to actually be there. So long as the common soldiers believed he was, that was plenty.

Thus, just flying his family banner atop the command tent had been enough to fool his troops, and — quite conveniently — the enemy as well. While it had been a simple safety move for Corco, he had never expected that his careful handling would double as bait and attract one of his greatest headaches.

"I'll breathe much easier now that Herak's dead," Corco said. "At least he'll stop stealing all my ideas from now on. This time as well, the tunnels, and the bombs to destroy the wall, that guy just kept copying me."

There was a good reason Corco was careful with the spread of new technologies, especially when it came to weapons. His opponents would often adopt his innovations quite quickly, thus negating his early advantages. In some cases, their creative use of his technologies would even create unexpected problems for them, just like Herak had done on the last day of the siege.

"On that note, some of the strategies used during the duke's charge have revealed significant flaws in our military system," Scolo added. "I believe we need to rectify the way our army is organized."

"That's right, there is certainly a lot of work to be done in that regard," Corco agreed. "Our soldiers are far from invincible, no matter what anyone else thinks."

Although the king talked at ease, he broke out in cold sweat every time he thought back to Herak's attack. Such a small number of elite warriors, armed with some half-decent weapons and a clever strategy, had been enough to break through almost their entire camp just like that.

"Yes, boss," Scolo agreed. "I have already compiled a few preliminary ideas, and was hoping we could talk about them."

Clearly, their setup was far from perfect, and the army would have to go through a major rectification very soon. However, that would be an issue for another day.

"Not for now," Corco thus disagreed and shook his head. "Talk about military reform will have to wait until the end of the war anyways. Don't forget that we have still have to take down Port Ulta."

"Of course, boss," Scolo replied, obviously aware that they couldn't just reform their army while they were still stuck in a war.

For one, changes in their structure would create chaos inside their army, chaos that would be easily to exploit. Apart from strategic concerns, any changes in their military technology had to be weighed carefully as well. It was best to improve their weapons technology and tactics gradually, so they would always stay just one step ahead of their opponents. Otherwise, they would waste their advantages early and would fail to overcome their enemies before they adapted and caught up.

Thus, since the was was still going on, there was no need to consider changes right away. In addition, Corco had no leisure to consider problems that far into the future anyways. Too pressing were the problems of the now all around him. On their walk through the city, they had finally left the almost empty area right around the destroyed walls, and had entered the outer city's living area for the commoners, or what was left of it.

With distress, the king looked at the misery around him, stunned into silence.

The city of Antila had turned into ruins. Entire rows of buildings had been torn down in the name of defense or transportation. Whatever houses had been left had been occupied by warriors for months. Preoccupied with their participation in a losing battle, they had shown no regard for the longevity of the buildings. As always in medalan wars, the commoners had been hit hardest in the aftermath.

Poor and desperate people were shuffling around on the streets like walking dead, most now homeless. Compared to the usual adulation that greeted Corco wherever he went, their eyes only looked upon their new ruler with fear and desperation.

"Master, I think it would have been better to move by palanquin," Fadelio said, while he looked around the restless crowd with concern. However, Corco brushed him aside.

"You know I don't like those things. We have enough guards with us anyways, so no one will be able to touch me. Plus, hiding behind a curtain would just shield me from uncomfortable looks. But I need to see the consequences of my own actions at least once. That way I'll be more careful in the future."

Again, the king's delegation walked in silence, maybe contemplating whether their master's words were too dreary for a victor. Neither of Corco's subordinates wanted to comment on the current state of the city, nor did they think it would be useful to blame themselves for it. This was war after all, and it was impossible to meet the idealistic standards of their king. However, Corco didn't care about their concerns. Instead, he would do whatever he could to alleviate the pain of the people, if only to make himself feel better.

"What about the looting, have they stopped?" he asked, towards Fadelio this time. While Scolo had been tasked with the main camp's defense during the final charge, Fadelio had been sent out with the front line troops, to keep the overenthusiastic General Pahuac in check.

After entering Antila, the southern kingdom's army looted the city, predictably. This was of course normal in Medalan warfare after all. Still, Corco didn't like it, especially not when it was done to a city that he intended to incorporate into his kingdom.

"Once our army crossed the walls, they spread throughout the city immediately," Fadelio explained. "There were still many pockets of resistance, so it was impossible to focus on internal rectification straight away. It also seems like General Pahuac tacitly approved the looting that happened throughout the city, though at least he did not participate himself. For now, the looting has stopped. Most men should have understood their assignments, though I expect some men will still go out to make a killing tonight."

"So what's the problem?" Corco asked.

"Habit, for the most part. Most warriors are used to a certain type of warfare. Looting a city after conquering it is just part of what they do. They aren't paid for their services after all, fighting for their masters is their duty. So the only way for them to make money is through looting. In comparison, our soldiers draw a regular wage, and a bonus in times of combat. That makes our local saniyan troops easier to control. In comparison many warriors have ignored their orders and looted anyways. Especially now that they'll be allowed to own property per our new constitution, they'll need money more than ever. So I don't think they'll stop just because we tell them to."

"What about General Pahuca?" Scolo asked. "He was very eager to raze Antila. Has he not been involved at all?"

"No, when we first entered the city, the general was eager to do additional damage to House Sucopia's territory, but only until I conferred master's orders, as instructed. After that, he held back, and none of his direct troops were involved in any more looting either."

"In that case, the problem isn't big," Corco concluded. "We just have to get the warriors out of the city. If they're not here, they can't loot the place. Send them to Port Ulta as an advanced party, send them to protect the medical camp or the supply lines, or disband them to send them home, just make sure they don't stay here. Scolo, can you do that?"

"Of course. I would have to coordinate with Pahuac and Lord Huaman, but that shouldn't be a problem. Though I wonder if it won't make us unpopular with the warriors. We're effectively taking money out of their pockets, or at least they would see it that way."

"That's probably not wrong," Corco admitted. This was a problem he had failed to consider. For a few seconds, he tapped his chin as he thought. At the same time he looked past his guards, at the objects of their discussion.

By now, they had entered Antila's inner city, a place where only warriors were allowed to live. Predictably, this part of the city had survived the siege with minimal damage. Compared to the outer city, the homes of the warrior families behind the city's inner wall had been almost untouched by the invaders as well as the local defenders.

By now, some of the former enemies were even grouping up. They stood together on the street  in small groups and gossiped, as if they hadn't tried to kill each other just yesterday. Only the unhealthy complexions and unhappy faces of the losing side betrayed their prior allegiance.

This sort of mutual respect was certainly also a part of Medala's warrior culture. As he observed them, Corco realized just how close the warriors were with each other, even those of different houses. Although modern weapons would eventually make their way of combat irrelevant, for now, they were still a military and political force to be reckoned with. Offending all of them at once would do him no good.

"In that case, we need to reward them separately for their participation in the war," Corco finally came to a conclusion. Fadelio wanted to complain at first, but the king already raised his hand to preempt his attendant. "I know what you want to say. If our finances can't afford the extra expenses, then come up with something else. For example, we can offer them discounts if they want to buy land or property in my territory. They can also get a special badge or something once the war is over. Honor is something many warriors value more than gold, so that should alleviate the problem somewhat as well."

"In that case, I think many warriors would be grateful, rather than upset," Fadelio remarked with a smile. "With a discount, many of them will also move to Saniya once they are free to decide where they want to live."

"Yeah, and it puts more pressure on the lords," Corco added. "If they don't want to disappear, they have to go along with our reforms, since even the warrior class they have relied on will turn towards us once we offer enough benefits. And it's a good idea to pacify all major classes anyways. I mean, we're planning to rule the south, not destroy it in a violent revolution. There's no point in conquering this place if entire classes become our enemies in the process. Those enemies will be part of our population after all, and having that many enemies live in our city sounds pretty dangerous to me."

Again, the king's two attendants were silent as they digested the king's words, words which envisioned a future years away. There was much to consider in this regard. After all, Corco's planned social reforms had no precedent, neither in this life nor any other he remembered. With his extensive experience, the king could make educated guesses and guide society into a productive direction, but he really felt overwhelmed sometimes. No wonder his subordinates — who did not have his otherworldly experience — were struggling sometimes. Corco however didn't care if they understood his point right now. There would be time for reflections later. Until then, there was still much left to do.

Hermit's Notes: First of many epilogue chapters. I've written detailed notes, and man, there are a lot of loose strings left to resolve. 

Also, progress on other stuff has been good, and I'm like 80% that I'll be able to post something extra again tomorrow. See you soon.

Some extra content for the holidays.

Hello, and happy holidays. 

Hermit Here.

Here's a special treat for christmas, or whatever you happen to celebrate this time of year. I've been working on Book0 for a while, and I think I can finally show a bit of it on here.

The following excerpt picks up after the current Chapter 5 - Their Respective Plans.

Compared to the current version, this one doesn't have the same, jarring time skip, and it also doesn't have quite so many character names, which is good. I'm a bit worried that Corco comes off as a bit too brutal here, which is one of several things I might tweek in this chapter before the final release. 

If you wouldn't mind, then some feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also, lots more of the book is almost ready for posting as well. I might post even more chapters tomorrow, depending on how busy I'll be with the Christmas stuff.

Happy reading, and Cheers,

S.H.

PS: Oh yeah, here's the actual chapter:

"And thus, we present, the great seer of seers, the oracle of the west, Corcopaca Fastgrade!" After Brym's perfect introduction, enthusiastic applause rang throughout the small dining hall of the rural knight's manor.

Finally, with the crowd ignited by Brym's masterful delivery, the figure of Corco entered the room. Though as he stepped out into the light of candles and torches, the enthusiasm visibly died down. With scrutiny, the guests inspected the young man's strange clothing, and his stranger demeanor.

"Welcome all, to this great seer's spectacular performance!" Corco said in a shaky voice that betrayed his nerves. "Now if you please, would anyone want to pick a card?"

At the same time, Corco's assistant entered, a giant monster of a man, whose face looked deadly pale from panic. Although he tried to be inconspicuous in the background, his physique made such attempts impossible. With a mirthless face he stood there and glowered at the intimidated guests, doing more harm than good with his mere presence alone.

"If you would?" Corco asked again when no one answered his first request. At the same time, his hands holding the cards stretched towards the crowd, as he tried to ignore the awkward atmosphere. Like magic, the cards folded apart into a large fan. The first impressive trick from the shaky performer finally eased the crowd a bit.

After a few more seconds of hesitation, the knight's wife showed mercy and picked a card out of the fan.

"Now then, madame, have you memorized your card? Please make sure you have, and please show it to the audience as well."

"I have," she replied, before Corco ripped the card out of her hand at superhuman speed. Shocked, the poor woman just stared at the strange man who had almost assaulted her. Meanwhile, the performer ignored his audience as he threw her card across the room without even looking at it. As it twirled in the air, the card flew towards the grumpy assistant. The giant's right arm shot forward like he was trying to strangle a foe on a bloody battlefield. However, the movement proved too forceful, and the card had been thrown too far to the side.

Although the giant's enormous fist still clutched around the card, it also destroyed it in the process. At the same time, the giant's shoulder brushed against a torch and flung it across the room, underneath the curtains next to the windows. Meanwhile, Corco was still busy with his performance, ignorant of the disaster that had unfolded behind him.

"Now then, I have not seen the card at all, have I?" he asked. "Yet through my powers of mental sight alone, I will be able to uncover the card's visage hidden inside madame's mind."

Meanwhile, as Corco was spinning his lies, the brave and heroic Brym was distracted as well, by the pretty daughter of the knight who was making eyes at him, clearly taking in by the young hero's dashing. Thus, even he failed to prevent the catastrophe.

Finally, someone in the crowd noticed the smoke rising from the torch and the curtains above.

"Fire!" the guest screamed and jumped up, the curtains now bright ablaze!

__________________________

"The curtains were not 'bright ablaze'! They were just smoking a bit!" At last, Fadelio got fed up and interrupted Brym's nonsense narration. "And I was never 'panicked' in front of those village fools."

It had been an hour since Corco and his friends had left the territory of knight Merek on their donkey cart. Knight Merek had been the first noble customer who had hired them for a performance. At first, Corco had though that it would be the first step in the fulfillment of their plans. However, even though Brym had shamelessly exaggerated the story, the truth was that those plans really weren't going too well.

"I also don't think my voice was shaky," Corco argued anyways, even though as the driver, he had to twist his head to join the conversation in the back of the wagon. "And my clothes aren't weird... Are they?"

"And that knight's daughter definitely didn't make eyes at you, kid." Atau finished the braggart off.

The braggart, meanwhile, was still defiant.

"Well, you wanted to know what exactly happened, uncle."

In response, Atau's face scrunched up as he jumped to his feet.

"And that is another thing, how come he is your big brother, but I'm your uncle?" he shouted while pointing first at Corco, then at himself.

"In conclusion," the young prince interrupted his cousin before the conversation could go off the rails any further. "It could have gone better."

"Yeah, that's what I said," Brym argued as he also jumped up.

"You be quiet," Atau replied, and pushed the kid's head down until he fell back onto his seat next to Corco. Finally, the older warrior also sat back down on one of the barrels in the back. "Anyways, none of this would have happened if I had come in with you."

"We have already determined that I am better suited as the silent assistant," Fadelio retorted.

"And how did that go for you?" Atau sneered. "With your arrogance, you could only ever intimidate people. You certainly won't make them happy. I don't think you even know how to smile."

"I fulfilled my orders to the letter."

"So your orders were to set the place on fire?"

"Well, that was mostly my mistake," Corco tried to calm the argument. "I really did misplace my throw."

"Throwing that card was a mistake in the first place," Atau added. "What's even the point of that?"

This time, Corco was getting annoyed by his cousin's moaning as well.

"It's called showmanship, and we better learn it fast if we don't want to embarrass ourselves any further," he explained. In response, Atau laughed heartily.

"Speak for yourself, great seer. As far as I'm concerned, I was the only one who did what he was supposed to."

"So you stayed outside. Well done," Fadelio argued in a sour tone, but Atau just laughed out louder.

"Well, someone had to look after the alchemist."

"May I add something on that topic?" At last, the great alchemist Hieronymus Bombasticus raised his head above the barrels in the back of the cart. However, he quickly realized that he didn't have many allies here. Once he received a few poisonous stares, his shoulders immediately slumped down. Still, he stayed strong and looked towards the one among the bandits who seemed most approachable.

"Sire," he spoke towards Corco, "May I know how long you intend to hold me against my will? There are many people back home who greatly require my aid, and I would not wish to deny them my services."

"Right, that's why you were so busy in Etra," Atau replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

Corco, however, felt a bit guilty over the way they had treated the alchemist. If nothing else, they owed him an explanation.

"Listen, Master Bombasticus...," he started and scratched his head. "In the end, it was your fault that you just sneaked into the workshop unannounced."

"It is my workshop!" the alchemist shouted. In response, Corco shook his head, and replied in a matter-of-factly tone.

"And we were the ones renting it."

An uncomfortable look was on Corco's face as his head turned to the side to look out into the sunshine. Since Hieronymus seemed to have suddenly gone mute, the prince simply continued.

“Look, here's the truth: You were willing to give us access to your equipment. We used your still, but you really shouldn't have sneaked around to make sure we don't steal anything... which we could have done either way, what with three knight-strength men on our side and the one skinny alchemist on yours. Now it's too late for regrets. Now you know the way to make the brandy, at least somewhat, and we can't just let you go.”

A snort from behind answered Corco's speech.

“Just a simple drink, nothing more. A bit of distillation is all it takes. Why would that be a secret worth keeping?”

"Well, you'll find out in time."

Again, Corco's explanation was met with more silence.

"Anyways, we won't hold you forever. We'll let you go as soon as we've become famous," he concluded.

"Hah." The alchemist's laugh was mirthless, and so was his face. "At this rate, I will remain a prisoner until I am a hundred years old."

"Come on, no need to exaggerate too much," Corco tried to defend his plan. "I mean, our first performance had some places that could use improvement, but we've only been at this for two weeks, and we already managed to score a gig with a local noble. At this rate, we'll be playing for kings and queens before we know it!"

"Yes, and maybe I could win over another pretty noble daughter's heart to help us out, just like that princess last time," Brym added. Just as Corco wanted to reprimand his young ward for his delusions, he was interrupted by a giggle behind him. However, it hadn't come from anyone he could see.

"Wait, who's laughing."

Without a word, Corco's attendant Fadelio got up from his seat to check the back of their cart for stowaways. Since the back was full of barrels and covered in blankets, it was an obvious thought. Yet before he could check anything, Fadelio halted, his eyes glued towards the distant road behind them.

"Friends, we might be in deep trouble," he finally said. "Someone is following us again."

"Where did they come from?"

Behind their donkey cart, a group of men were following them at a brisk marching pace. Although they would catch up to their slow donkey cart eventually, it still looked strange.

"Shouldn't these guys be coming on horseback?" Corco wondered.

"What?" Brym's dull response came back.

"Oh, right." No horses, Corco remembered. He wondered how anyone ever caught anyone else in this world. Though at least for now, he wouldn't complain, since the lack of horses worked out in their favor.

"Well, that makes things easier," he said and winked at a confused Brym. "Let's bounce."

With that, the prince took hold of the cart's reigns and shook them to speed up their ride. In response to Corco's urgency, the two donkeys in front shook their heads and slowed down instead.

"Aw, come on, Oats and Carrot! We have to go!" Brym leaned forward to console the animals, but their transportation didn't look too bothered about the men behind, who were closing in quickly.

"Damn, how did the duke's people find us so quickly?" Corco cursed their bad luck. "We only had our first performance like an hour ago. How did this spread so fast?"

"Looks like we're in trouble," Fadelio added, and drew his axe. "Stop the cart, we will have to fight." In response, alchemist Bombasticus once again disappeared in between the barrels. Of course, the others couldn't make such an easy choice.

Luckily, the donkeys stopped all on their own before Corco could embarrass himself any further. Still, that was where their luck ended. Unlike their fight in the old Fastgrade's stash, they didn't have a plan to deal with the duke's knights this time around. And compared to back then, the knights would no longer underestimate them and just walk into a trap.

Caught before we could even get going, the prince thought in frustration.

Still, he wouldn't give up just like this. Instead, he pulled the matchlock rifle from his side and started to load the weapon. Even if they were to die, at least they would take as many down with them as possible. Maybe if they survived long enough, an opportunity would present itself somehow. Maybe the knights would see that they were no easy pickings and would value their lives over their oaths to the duke. While Corco was still trying to find positives in their situation, Fadelio was shouting again.

"What by the underworld are you doing, southerner!?" he called out to Atau next to him. "Pick up your weapon and fight!"

Infighting was the last thing they needed right now. When Corco looked up to routinely resolve the conflict between his cousin and his attendant, he realized that Atau just stared at the approaching enemy knights, surprise written all over his face.

"Those are not the duke's men," he finally said, as surprise made way to a forced smile.

By the time Corco had loaded his weapon and turned around, their pursuers had come much closer. Finally, they had turned from silhouettes into actual people. Indeed, if these men had been sent by Herak of Balit, the duke was an idiot. Compared to the knights who had pursued them last time, these people were really far too shabby.

Instead of chain or plate mail, they only wore simple leather armor. In fact, more than half of them didn't seem to wear any armor at all. The weapons that Corco had mistaken for pikes from a distance were in fact short spears with rusty tips. Only their leader carried a short sword, though it looked more like an over-sized knife, and he held it as if he didn't want to hurt his fingers while cutting the vegetables.

"What's up with these guys?" Corco mused, his tension and panic blown away by confusion. "Bandits?"

"Whoever they are, they are in for a beating."

Fadelio was ready to walk up to them, but Atau held him back by his shoulder.

"Wait, we..." While the men came closer and closer, he paused and looked around in panic. Finally, he sighed and said, "we better not kill anyone."

"What, you want us to get robbed by the bandits?"

"They're not bandits."

"They're coming!" Corco interrupted them. At the same time, he crawled to the back of the cart, stood on the barrel and raised his rifle. With the weapon aimed squarely at the knife guy in front, he waited for their next move. One step too close and he would not hesitate to gun down their leader. However, the bandits stopped before it got that far. When Fadelio's large figure jumped down the cart and took position with his axe, the pursuers seemed to lose most of their enthusiasm.

Only their leader, possibly unaware of the danger to his life, walked one more step for emphasis and shouted in a self-righteous voice.

"Vile thieves! Unhand the young lady!"

At the same time, he pointed his knife at them, which only further highlighted his weapon's inadequacy.

"Huh?" Corco replied in his usual eloquence as he lowered his weapon.

"Do not play coy with me, fiend! False creatures, who stole their way into our homes to abduct the young lady! Unhand her, or feel the wrath of my sword!"

"Okay, I've just about run out of patience." Corco shrugged. "I don't care who they are anymore, let's just get rid of them."

Again, Corco raised his rifle to take aim, though he had no real intention to shoot at them. Unlike the knights last time, these confused bandits were just simple commoners. Even with weapons, the eight men were no real threat to them. All he wanted to do was scare them a bit by firing a warning shot. Surely, the rabble would disperse at the first sign of trouble. However, before he could fire, he was startled by a shout from beside him.

"Stop!"

On reflex, Corco's trigger finger jerked back, and a sudden shot rang through the evening air. Luckily, the shot harmlessly embedded itself in the ground at knife guy's feet. However, Corco had no eyes for the bullet, and neither did any of the bandits. To the man they stood frozen solid, staring at the young woman who had just appeared from within their donkey cart.

"What the fuck?" Corco quipped.

"What is the knight's daughter doing here?" Fadelio asked.

"Just as master said, they have kidnapped the young lady!" the knife screamed.

"Roesia, what are you doing here?" Atau asked the girl in a strangely familiar tone.

"Wait..." Corco tried to interrupt, but the girl just ignored him.

"I have followed along so we can be together," the girl said in a breathy voice. In response, Atau held his head in his hand.

"Oh brother," he sighed. Piece by piece, Corco was putting together what had happened here.

"All right, so let's just-" he tried again to calm the situation by explaining the misunderstanding, but the girl didn't seem to care about anyone as she droned on.

"Now I have come to give you my heart, just like we promised last night," she said in a sweet voice that couldn't have fit the occasion less. As soon as Corco heard her, he knew that the words were trouble. As expected, knife looked livid.

"Get them!" he screamed, and shook his weapon in their general direction.

"Now what?" Fadelio asked his master as he watched the commoners lower their weapons and walk towards them. For a second, Corco tried to make sense of their crazy circumstances, before he gave his orders.

"Just... knock them down for now. No weapons." As he spoke, he put his empty rifle aside and jumped off the wagon to join his attendant.

"Right. that should be no problem," Fadelio said. With a grin, he threw his axe onto a barrel behind him and limbered up as he walked up to the armed soldiers with just his fists. Meanwhile, the guilty-looking Atau tried to reason with Corco.

"Laqhis-" he began, but was interrupted by his cousin's annoyed shout.

"We'll deal with your shit later! Go!"

As soon as his instructions were done, Corco had no more time to think about his cousin, or the problems he had caused. Instead, he was focused on the spear point coming towards him. Yet the spear that was thrust by the untrained commoner was comically slow. The imprecise, weak stab was easy to dodge. A single step to the side and he was inside the spear point's range. With his bare hands, Corco grabbed the spear and simply pulled. Although the hapless man lost his weapon almost immediately, by that point he had already been dragged off-balance.

Too easy.

With no semblance of control, the disarmed commoner stumbled towards Corco. The prince threw the spear aside and greeted his visitor with a swiftly raised knee. Punished by his own tumble, the man sank to the ground after the knee had embedded itself into his stomach.

One down, Corco thought, as he looked around the battlefield to orient himself. Though calling it a battlefield was giving their opponents far too much credit.

Fadelio had already brought down one man who lay on the ground by his feet, while he held a second up by his neck, before he slammed him against a third who tried to sneak up on him from behind. Meanwhile, the hesitant Atau was using his bare arms to fend off the hesitant pokes from another two commoners. At this rate, he would last all day without getting hit once.

Looks like it's mostly cleared up.

Rather than focus on the others, he had to worry more about himself. At some point, knife guy had made a decision, and now he was charging him with determination. Maybe Corco looked the weakest to him, but he had made a grave mistake if he really thought so. Even though he wasn't a monster like Fadelio or Atau, a commoner fighting a warrior wouldn't ever be a contest.

Yet just as he got into a stance to disarm knife guy, he was interrupted by another, now familiar scream.

"I order you to stop!"

Crap.

Before Corco could react, the dumb, little girl had already pushed herself between him and knife guy, her arms spread wide as if her body was impervious to steel. Before, knife guy had swung his steel with great determination, and now he had lost control over its course as a result. From his panicked face, it became obvious that he would no longer be able to pull back in time.

In an instant, Corco calculated the new situation. There was no time to pull back the girl or draw a weapon. And if the knight's daughter died here, they would have killed a cahlian noble. Whether or not they were actually responsible didn't matter, they would be blamed anyways. Thus, he did the only thing he could do. His feet shifted to the side, and with a half-turn, he pushed his torso in front of the girl, before he finally caught the blade with his shoulder, just in time.

"Motherfucker!" Corco screamed in pain as the steel bit into his flesh. At the same time, knife guy's face was still ashen from panic. In fact, he looked concerned for Corco's safety, which only pissed the prince off more.

With the knife still embedded in his left shoulder, Corco's heavy right landed squarely on knife guy's nose.

"The fuck are you panicked for, you bastard!?" the prince shouted. As the knife left Corco's shoulder, his opponent fell to the ground, too. Without thinking he followed, and landed on top of knifeless guy's torso. When he had been injured, he had already seen red, and the idiot's stupid face, on top of the pointless, avoidable battle, had only made him angrier.

"You having fun playing savior, huh!?" he screamed, as he continued pounding the man's face. "Ever heard of talking!? You enjoying our fight, huh!? Are you!?"

After what felt like an eternity, but could only have been a few seconds, Fadelio reached under Corco's elbows from behind and pulled him off his hapless victim. Finally, the prince took a deep breath and calmed his anger once more. Meanwhile, knife guy was groaning on the ground, his face all bloodied up and freed of several teeth.

While Corco was still observing the damage he had inflicted, Fadelio was checking the wound on his shoulder.

"It's not that deep. Just bind it and we should be fine, I think," he judged.

"Of course it's not that deep," Corco replied in a grim tone. "That idiot can't swing a sword for shit."

"Now what do we do?" Fadelio finally asked, ignoring his master's outburst. "And what do we do about this?"

His head jerked over to Atau, who was now standing near the donkey cart again. When Corco had been busy with his victim and Fadelio had been busy with Corco, Atau had helped up the young lady who had fallen in the tussle, though something wasn't quite right. While the girl was staring at Corco, her savior, with fear in her eyes, she was glued to Atau's arm, who had an awkward look plastered all over his face.

"So," Corco finally said. He sat back down on the back of their cart and observed the battlefield. "Now that we've all calmed down, will someone explain to me what the fuck is going on?"

The image in front of Corco was a mess. The knight's men were lying all over the floor, still busy collecting both themselves and their teeth off the ground. It would take a while longer until they were ready for questioning. Thus, the prince looked at the little lady who seemed to have caused this entire mess.

"What are you doing in our cart?" he asked.

"Hmph, I will not talk to lowlifes such as you." The girl huffed and turned her head to look up at Atau. "Please, darling, tell him what you told me!"

"I mean... I-" Atau stuttered, when Corco interrupted him.

"Wait."

"You said we would be together! Tell them!"

"You... I-"

"I said shut the fuck up!" Finally, Corco exploded again.

Maybe the girl had just remembered what he had done to knife guy, but finally, the prince got some peace and quiet, in addition to another shocked stare.

"Alright, This isn't getting us anywhere," he concluded in a tired voice as he rubbed his eyes. "So here's what we'll do: I will tell you my interpretation of the events here. And if I'm right, you'll just nod. If I'm wrong, raise your hand and you get a gold star. Now."

Before anyone could say anything, Corco pointed at the obvious couple and continued.

"You and my cousin spent a night together. Maybe several nights."

Although the two weren't nodding, both shuffled around awkwardly.

"I'll take that as a yes."

In the meantime, a groaning knife guy had managed to sit up again. He presented Corco a vicious stare and tried to interrupt.

"You-" But the prince would have none of it.

"You wanna lose another tooth!? Sit down, shut up!" Under Corco's vicious stare, the knifeless guy finally looked away, and instead crawled away in search of the precious weapon that made up half of his identity. Meanwhile, the prince took the chance to continue his holmesian investigation.

"Right." He dusted off his hands and turned towards the couple again. "So now, you've decided to run away from home and elope with your new boyfriend."

Immediately, the girl's face lit up like the sun. She stared up at her man before she replied.

"Yes and-"

"And your bullshit is gonna get someone killed, little girl," Corco interrupted. "Probably yourself. I'm guessing these idiots here are your father's men, who have come to 'save' you, right?"

"You-" The girl's misplaced anger was interrupted by Corco once again.

"Don't think I'll block another sword for you. Next time, I'll just let knife guy over here slice you to pieces. So if you know what's good for yourself, get away from our cart. We don't take in stowaways."

As he spoke, Corco walked up to the couple. Meanwhile, the girl searched for salvation with her boyfriend.

"Say something!" she shouted at Atau again. Yet the warrior only looked back awkwardly as Corco grabbed her by her shoulder and easily pulled her off his cousin.

"He's saying nothing." The prince left Atau with a dirty look and shoved the girl towards her father's men. "Now pick up your band of merry assholes and go home!"

"What?" The girl just stared in response to Corco's inexplicable reference, but the prince didn't care.

"Home, i said," he repeated and turned towards Fadelio. "We're leaving."

With the entire crowd stunned into silence, and the knight's men now aware of the difference in strength, they just watched as Corco and his crew picked up their weapons and got back onto the cart. However, just as the girl and her savior turned to leave, Corco interrupted them one more time.

"Wait!" he shouted, and the girl turned around again, her face more annoyed than scared by now. In his anger, maybe he had really overdone it this time. Thus, he awkwardly paused for a few seconds, before he asked a question that had been haunting him all this time.

"Do my clothes really make me look like a weirdo?"

"You look like you came out of a traveling caravan, you barbarian!" The girl shouted, before she turned around and stomped away.

An annoyed Corco watched as the beaten knights' servants followed behind their young lady. As she left, the girl threw wistful glances back at her boyfriend, in hopes that he would swoop in to save her. Meanwhile, the boyfriend awkwardly looked away, since he was also getting stared at by his cousin, whose eyes were a lot less wistful.

"So, you didn't screw up during our performance, is that what you said earlier?"

"Well, I didn't," Atau replied, though he didn't sound confident with his face down towards the ground.

"You only screwed the knight's daughter," Corco calmly surmised. This time however, Atau looked up again as he replied with a sneer.

"Well yeah, how else do you think we got a chance to perform for a noble family when no one knows us? You think they got charmed by your genius?"

"You..." Although Corco wanted to reply, he really didn't know what to say. It seemed like while having fun, Atau had at least tried his best for the group. Finally, Corco just sighed.

"Alright, looks like our plan needs some refinement. We'll take a break in the next town and rework some details. And Fadelio." He turned towards his attendant.

"You're really not cut out for performance. Let's forget about the assistant thing for now."

"Good idea. And no more acrobatics," Atau added while he directed a grin towards Fadelio. "We don't need another 'burning curtain' incident."

"Alright, but only once you stop screwing noble daughters," the attendant shot back.

"Hey, who got us the performance?" Atau laughed.

"And you almost got us hunted by every noble in the country as well," Fadelio retorted.

"Right, so it looks like we all have some things we need to work on," Corco interrupted before the two would start another fight. "For now, let's just take it slow. If we want to do proper business, we need to wait until the brandy is matured anyways. Until then, we should work on our act, and think over our flaws, so something like today doesn't happen again."

"I don't have a flaw," Brym finally chimed in. Throughout the fight, he had been with the donkeys, to make sure they wouldn't run away.

"Well, for one, you could stop making up stories. That would help." Atau laughed again. "Remind me again, who here said that the daughter was making eyes at him?"

Meanwhile, Corco only sighed as he took the reins off Brym's hands and sat back down in the driver's seat. "For now, we should just get going. Let's find an inn and eat something, I'm starving from all the exercise."

With that, Corco flicked the reins, and the donkeys started moving again, as if they had never once refused his orders. While his rowdy friends were making noise behind him, Corco himself was quietly questioning his own plan. This wasn't how he had imagined their start to go. If they wanted to rebuild his master's company, they still had a lot of work ahead of them.

Chapter 411 Illustration (Spoilers obviously)

Heyho, here's some image to better visualize what's happening in chapter 411. Hope that's useful. There's also gonna be a new map on the new borders soon-ish, once the epilogue for book 6 is done.

Oh, and I may as well use this post for some minor updates: 

1. rewrite of Book 0 is going okay, I may post a couple of new chapters on here before the end of the week. IF I post, it'll be a whole number of chapters, so that's exciting, maybe.

2. I've also finally updated the previous diagram post with the final image, which contains the hidden tunnel, for context.

3. Depending on how much time I have over the holidays, there may be some extra surprises waiting over Christmas. No promises though.

Chapter 413 - Cotton

Finally, it was time for Herak to enjoy his revenge. However, when he pulled on the axe to retrieve it from the recently slain soldier, he could feel the weapon brush against bone. The axe was stuck. He had never liked using axes, and this was the reason.

Time is of the essence.

Rather than try for the axe again, he instead grabbed for the first thing in his view that looked vaguely like a tool for murder. His right brushed past the shocked eyes of the dying commoner, into his hair and up in the air, as Herak ripped the helmet off the commoner's face. Their armor was almost non-existent, but the southerners still wore solid helmets of metal. When Herak stood up and turned again, only a few seconds had passed since he had thrown his dagger.

In the meantime, the second commoner was still struggling to get up while holding onto his comically long weapon. His pretty white costume was stained with mud. Now he looked as ridiculous as his attempt to kill Herak. Before the commoner could react, the lord had jumped onto his body. Both landed on the ground, with Herak on top, as he brought down his helmet-covered right onto the commoner's face again and again.

"You dare stand in my way!? Do you!?" Herak shouted at the mess of red underneath him. "None of you shall obstruct my path! None! Your merchant will die! And I shall return home once more! Arcavus be my witness, I will escape this god-forsaken land! You dare prevent me!? Dare harm me!? Are you satisfied with your reward for bravery!? Is this what you wanted!?"

Finally, Herak woke up from his mania, and looked at his work underneath him. The mixed up mush of flesh, brain and bones no longer resembled anything human. Even for him, who had seen and done many acts of barbarity, it was a repulsive sight. With heavy breaths, he tried to control his pumping heart, to limited success.

When Herak got back up on his feet at last, the helmet in his hand had been painted red, and his right shoulder felt sore from the repeated strikes at the ground. Even so, there was still work to be done. He had wasted too much time on a corpse already.

To catch his breath and reassess his position, he finally looked around again. All this time, his focus had only been on his immediate surroundings, so now he had to check for more enemies who may have appeared in the meantime. To his surprise, most commoner soldiers in the immediate vicinity had been cleaned up already.

While he had been busy turning his five commoner opponents into pulp, more and more of his knights had managed to make their way past the walls as well. The obstacles the merchant had put in their way had been great, but not great enough to stop his army of elites. Once they had passed the wall and trench, they also got involved in combat with the readied commoners, but most of them had resolved their own fights by now.

Apart from a few who were still stuck in combat or holding back the sporadic enemy reinforcements at the edges of their position, the others had begun to form around Herak again. All in all, he still had about two dozen men to work with.

"Spread out! Buy us more time," Herak ordered, before he turned towards the head knight of the group. "Taarken, your group follows along and helps me break through to their command tent!"

Although he would have preferred to have Felian Northdale here with him, his usual head knight was still fighting against pirates on the western islands. Thus, he had to make do with Taarken. However, all his knights had been carefully selected, and were more than capable. Thus, the men were organized quickly.

In response to the orders, most of the remaining knights rushed into the enemy camp, to create as much chaos as possible. None of them needed any further instructions. They would make the best decisions on their own. This was real training, and real loyalty, unlike the machine-like nonsense the commoners of Saniya had been instilled with by their merchant king. For once, Herak thought, he would be the one to teach the merchant a lesson, though it would be the last of his life.

As the men spread out, Herak picked his broadsword back up - as well as the bow that he had dropped at some point during the previous scuffle - and made his way into the camp as well. Unlike his knights who would enter and then search for targets to disrupt, Herak's goal had been clear right from the start. Even in the camp, surrounded by tents to block his view, the tall flag atop the southern army's command tent was still clearly visible. There, he would find his nemesis, and finally slay his demons.

The camp of the southern army was clean, and well put together. In contrast with the state of a typical military camp, none of the tents were put up randomly. All of them were built in straight lines, with clear and straight corridors to connect them. Everything had order. Surely, this was a great system for quick mobilization, and it would make managing the troops much easier.

However, it also made it much easier for intruders to spread chaos within this order. Even more, it also made Herak's path remarkably straightforward.

Another lesson to teach the merchant.

Without any interruptions, Herak and the five remaining knights around head knight Taarken simply marched north, towards the tallest hill within the camp walls. Over there, he could already see the large command tent of their merchant king, and his ostentatious, purple flag that smelled of copper even from here.

So close. Almost there.

Unconsciously, Herak's feet sped up, all his mind bound by that tent atop the hill alone. Like a maelstrom it pulled him in, towards his destiny, towards freedom. Yet from one second to the next, the world turned and he lost his vision. By the time he came to his senses again, there was a buzzing in his head, and he lay on the ground.

What happened?

His ears rang, so he couldn't hear anything, and he couldn't see from his left eye anymore. Confused, he looked around and saw that his knights had already killed another one of the southern soldiers. Another axe wielder. One of his knights helped Herak back up on his feet. With his vision blurred, he couldn't tell which one.

Once he stood again, the duke felt for the side of his head where he had been hit. By the time his fingers ran across sharp, jagged metal, he finally realized what had happened.

He tried to take off his mask but it was stuck to the left side of his face. A bit more force removed it, and pieces of his skin and flesh with it. Finally, he held the mask in front of his good eye and saw that the bronze had been completely ripped apart along his left temple. This wasn't the kind of damage a commoner could cause, not even with leverage. This attacker had been a cultivator.

Clearly, the enemy warrior had waited around one of the tents and then hit his head with an axe when he had rushed past. In the end, Herak had paid a heavy price for his carelessness. His vision was blurred by now. One of his eyes had shut as blood from his head wound had gushed over it. However, despite the severity of the wound, his head barely hurt. Instead, it felt as if the entire world had been covered in cotton, dampened, as if he was about to drift away.

No, not yet.

The mask that had protected the duke for so many years, the one that had been both a curse and a relief, finally slipped from his fingers. Once more, Herak stared at the tent atop the distant hill as he squinted through his blurred vision.

Almost there. So close!

Determined to see things through to the end, he turned to his men.

"Charge," he shouted as clearly as he could, in order to reassure them. He wanted to say more, but had trouble thinking straight. All that kept him going was that tent at the end of his vision. The group sped up, and soon began to charge up the hill. Immediately, Herak saw his final obstacle: Another four guards stationed in front of the tent's entrance. How many final obstacles had that been? Would there be another one? He didn't know, though he barely knew anything by that point.

Again, warriors.

As if on instinct, Herak pulled his bow off his back. His best weapon to face a worthy foe. As he nocked the arrow and took aim, everything in his vision began to slide around, like they were fighting on a ship's deck. Only the tent alone remained in focus. He fired a shot, but wasn't sure if he had hit anything.

One left. Need to save it.

From the beginning, he had planned to save one last arrow in case the cowardly merchant were to run away and he had to chase him down. However, by this point, his thoughts weren't so clear anymore. Herak operated merely on instinct.

While he had been busy trying to steady his arm for the shot, his men had charged ahead and engaged the other warriors. Thus, Herak had the chance to simply run past everyone, towards the tent's entrance. In truth, he barely noticed the enemy warriors anymore, so focused was he on his goal. Had he noticed that the guards were the newly established grenadier troops, who were more than a match for his knights, maybe he would have supported his men instead. However, his mind no longer noticed such details.

In fact, their counter attack was almost pointless by now. They had lost all of their elites in the attempt. He alone entered the tent, heavily injured, to fight a cultivator who was still in good health. And that was the best case, in which he would find the merchant in his tent by himself.

If Herak managed to take the king hostage, he would have been in no state to make it back out of the camp by himself. If he killed him, then he would never make it out of here alive, let alone return back to Borna. However, none of that mattered anymore. There was only one thought left for Herak.

Kill

Kill

Kill

Like a curse, the one word kept swirling through his mind, once for every time his head pulsed from the dulled pain. Finally, he had reached his goal, finally, he would give the merchant his just deserts.

With all his remaining, considerable strength, Herak gripped his broad sword tightly and charged into the open tent. Yet what greeted him was not the terrified face of the fat merchant. It was a deadly boom that cut right through the cotton and hit the beast like thunder.

"Huh?" Herak uttered a single noise, as he looked at the man who knelt opposite him, a long rifle in his hands. He didn't know who this arcavian in the white uniform was, but he certainly wasn't the merchant king. At last, he understood that Corco had never even been here. Everything had just been a delusion, he had never had a chance.

Finally, Herak looked down at his own body, and the large hole that had opened up in his chest, the one breached by the rifle. At last, the fog lifted and his mind cleared. He thought back to his home, to his brother and his lands. He wanted to return, smell the air of Balit's forests again. He wanted to warn his brother, and his fellow nobles, about the danger of this southern kingdom, about the unstoppable threat they would pose soon if they couldn't be stopped now. However, everything was too late, and no more sounds left the duke's lips.

At last, Herak sank to the ground, never to open his eyes again.

Thus died Duke Herak of Balit, hero throughout his life, beast in his final days.

Hermit's Notes: Yupp, that's the end of one of my favorites, as far as characters go. The one planned chapter turned into four, but I wanted the death to have sufficient impact.

I know many readers wanted him to stick around, maybe go back and modernize Arcavia. However, by this point, Herak has already lost at least three times to Corco, and that's if you only count the major defeats. If he kept losing, I felt like he would threaten to turn into a bit of a joke character, and I didn't want that.

Also, with this, all the battle scenes of book 6 are done. Just a bit of housekeeping left until we can move on to book 7. :D

Oh, and finally: Since I've managed to get a week ahead on releases, I might not post another chapter for a few days, as I work on the book 0 rewrite again. Might post a few chapters from that though, if I get them into a readable state by then.

Chapter 412 - Humans against Monster

Herak was falling towards his certain death. Even if he could somehow survive the spike pit below, he would surely be dealt with by the soldiers waiting for him beyond the spikes. Yet only for the smallest fraction of a second, Herak resigned to his fate.

Not here!

He would be damned if he gave up like this! He hadn't come this far, gone through so much suffering in these foreign lands, only to fail now, at the last hurdle. He would get his revenge, and he would get back home. Not even death itself would stop him.

As anger replaced fear, he realized that there was still a way. He wasn't the first to jump the palisades. Before he had entered the enemy camp, his knights had already paved a thin path of survival that he could squeeze through.

Thus, as he fell, he slightly adjusted his legs and brought them back underneath his body. Right below him was one of his knights, his torso and limbs spiked onto the sharpened, wooden poles in the trench. The deft turn allowed Herak to land right on top of the spiked knight's back. His left foot sank into the knight's leather armor, until he felt a sharp sting in the sole of his foot, joined by the equally sharp scream of the knight beneath him. He only kept his weight on for a moment, before he pushed off and catapulted his body past the trench. With the monumental effort done, he lost control in the air, and rolled in the mud beyond the spikes. Finally, he used the remaining momentum to get back up to his feet. When he rose again, another sting came from his left foot.

When Herak looked down his left leg, he found a trickle of blood escape from his left boot's sole. During his acrobatics, the additional weight must have pushed one of the spikes through the knight's body and into his foot.

Doesn't matter. Keep going.

When he looked around, he realized that he had been surrounded. As he pulled his broadsword from its sheath, his eyes flitted left and right to assess his opponents.

Five in front, no one behind. All commoners. Should be easy.

Defense was a bad idea with such disadvantageous numbers. Instead, swift offense would allow him to isolate overwhelm them in smaller fights. Thus, he would quickly eliminate them one by one before they could react.

These soldiers were the last obstacles between him and that tent, this time he was certain. He would no longer be stopped. Once he had made a plan and steeled his determination, Herak put power in his feet to charge straight at the commoner furthest to the right. When Herak had drawn his sword, this one had been the only soldier to step back, thus creating more distance between himself and the others. With such a clear opening, this fight would be easy, Herak thought.

Yet just as he tried to rush forward, the stinging pain from before returned to his left foot. His left buckled slightly, and his charge veered off course, his entire body off-balance and threatening to fall altogether. As he slowed down, it gave another commoner next to Herak's target the chance to step into his path, axe in hand. With both hands, he made a wide swing.

Idiot, have you never held an axe?

Maybe the commoners here had just grabbed whatever weapons they could find to prepare their improvised defense, or maybe they were new recruits. Either way, the one who now stood in Herak's way seemed like he didn't even know how to properly hold onto his weapon.

Although he was off-balance, although he couldn't avoid the hit, Herak still retained his calm. As the axe head closed in on his left side, he simply raised up his left arm. In response, the axe, now angled incorrectly, harmlessly bounced off Herak's shoulder armor. The hit was still heavy, and his arm would no doubt hurt tomorrow, but it hadn't done any lasting damage. Even more, it also left the commoner wide open to a counter.

While the commoner's axe was still high up in the air after the deflection, Herak used the momentum from the hit he received to pull himself upright and regain his balance. At the same time, he thrust his broadsword forward, both in attack and as a counterweight, to control his momentum.

The heavy steel of the broadsword, sharpened to a thick point that wouldn't snap even after a hundred thrusts through leather or metal, broke through the commoner's thin cloth armor like it wasn't even there. With wide eyes, the commoner who had been run through by the blade stared first at the sword in his chest, and then at his killer's face hidden underneath the mask. Life left his fingers as his axe overhead slipped off and harmlessly fell to the ground behind him. Herak just grinned in response. In a single motion, he had removed a foe and corrected his terrible posture.

However, he didn't have much time to admire his work. As soon as he had dealt with one, two more commoners were coming at him, one from the right and one from the left.

One more axe, plus one halberd. The second one is a problem.

In comparison, the axe-wielder would be easy. The axe-wielding soldier on his right had already proven a coward before, and these commoners had no apparent training with axes. However, he had seen them expertly work halberds many times throughout his battles against them. Thus, he twisted his body to his left, the impaled soldier's body still stuck to the sword, propped up by Herak's grip alone. As a result, he pulled the squealing commoner with him, and pushed him towards his halberd-wielding ally. At the same time, he made a few large steps forward, away from the axe-wielder and towards the halberd. As he moved ahead, his body was covered by the commoner on his sword who already lay in his death throes. It was his first time using a human as a shield, but he had plenty experience with tower shields. The principle was the same.

Hidden behind the body, he didn't see what the halberdier was doing, but he didn't need to. After all, as he closed in, he didn't feel any resistance from the other side.

Obviously, the commoner had failed to attack before Herak had closed the distance. He could have swung his halberd overhead and bring its axe head down precisely behind the body and onto Herak's shoulders or head. Although he hadn't done so, it would have been a high risk move in the first place, one that was only possible with the strength and skills of a cultivator. However, he had also failed to use his weapon's spear point to simply spike Herak's hostage and keep his distance, which would have required nothing but determination. Be it strength or spirit, this commoner was lacking both, and it would be his end.

As he charged forward, Herak drew the long dagger on his belt. Before the halberdier could react, the duke felt the soldier he used as a shield bump against someone on the other side. Already, he was deep inside the ideal range of the halberd, the weapon now useless. Unlike the confused commoner, Herak knew exactly what to do. The sharp metal gleamed as it cut through the air, past his shield of meat, and then towards the helpless commoner's side.

The steel cut deep, underneath the ribs and through the flesh, towards the important organs protected by the rib cage. Herak's movements were calm and well-trained, without emotions. This commoner would just be another in an endless series of dead that the Bear of Borna had produced throughout his life.

One scream turned to two, and both his target and his shield finally fell to the ground together. His sword was lodged and the bodies tangled, so he simply let go of his main weapon. He still had his dagger after all, and there were weapons everywhere. As soon as the frontal threat had been dealt with, Herak turned to the axe-wielder who had tried to keep up behind him.

Just a few steps had been enough to increase the distance between them, so Herak had plenty of time to turn and face his timid opponent. Again, this commoner showed his amateur axe swing, just the same as the first.

Too easy, Herak thought, as he took a single step forward and to the side. As a result, the deadly axe head helplessly sailed past his body. When the commoner tried to raise his weapon again, Herak simply trapped it under his armpit. At the same time, he stabbed forward with his blood-stained dagger again. Thus, the third target fell just like the second had. This time, the commoner stared into Herak's face with blood-shot eyes. Defying his previous cowardice, he let go of his axe and held Herak's dagger in both hands, in an effort to trap the duke's weapon inside his body.

It was a noble attempt, but the duke had nothing but contempt for it. Even to show the noble spirit of sacrifice, one needed the bare minimum qualifications. It was something this commoner lacked, just like all his brethren. With a single, forceful jolt, Herak pulled the dagger from the helpless commoner's grasp. How could a simple man ever compare with a noble in strength?

The man's desperate, confused look as he sank to the ground made Herak's grin widen. Maybe in his final moments, the commoner had understood the true difference between them, a gap that couldn't be made up for, not even with modern weapons. Now, he thought leisurely, it was time to clean up the rest.

However, just as he got ready to turn and retrieve his sword, he felt something hit the back of his legs with great force. Although the hit didn't pierce his armor, his right knee buckled and collapsed from the impact. Once more, Herak landed on the ground, this time with his knees in the dirt.

Got too excited.

While embroiled in combat, he had forgotten that there had still been two commoners left in his vicinity. Now, he had been punished for it. To rectify his mistake, Herak let go of the axe that was still held in his armpit, and at the same time lowered his head and rounded his back. His armor was thinner than usual, but it was still leather covered by chain mail, far too thick to break from the untrained hit of a weak commoner. Thus protected, he felt safe in picking up the axe he had just dropped, this time by its handle. Now that he was properly armed again, he would show these commoners how an axe swing was supposed to look.

As he did so, he felt another hit onto his back, which deflected off his rounded back without doing any damage. Then a second followed, with more force than he had thought, but it wasn't enough to stop him. In response to the attacks, he blindly swung his axe backwards to create some distance. In the same motion, he stood up with a half turn that increased the distance to the foes behind him. The pivot onto his injured foot hurt, but he simply grit his teeth through it.

Still more left.

This time, two commoners stood opposite him. One held a halberd, and there was yet another one with an axe. He thought that maybe the axe wielder was the one who had hit him first, and that the halberd had hit him second. After all, the back spike of the halberd's head was still covered in blood, his own, he presumed.

Damn. Careless again.

Only now did he feel his back grow hot. Maybe the sharp spike of metal, leveraged on the end of a long stick, really had been enough to punch a hole through his chain mail. Though it wouldn't change much. For now, he still didn't feel restrained in his movements. And even when injured, these commoners would have no chance against a true knight.

Clearly, his foes had learned from their mistakes and didn't charge at him again. Instead, they looked determined to drag out the fight. Motionless they stood together, one eager to keep Herak at a distance and the other covering at close range.

Bastards! You think you can oppose me!? You think you can injure me!? Who gives you the courage!? Your merchant!?

The more he thought about their arrogant attitude, Herak ran at the commoners, his vision filled with blood. As the halberdier put his spear in the path and braced for impact, Herak suddenly threw the dagger in his right hand. As he switched the axe from left to right, the commoner with the halberd dodged the projectile.

However Herak had never expected such an obvious attack to kill a trained soldier. As the commoner jumped away to dodge, he also increased the distance to his companion and lost grip on his weapon. Now, it would be a one-on-one fight, at least for a few seconds.

More than enough.

The axe-wielding commoner panicked as he saw Herak run towards him. Like a child, the coward actually closed his eyes and tried to hold off the duke with blind, horizontal swings. With the experience of many battles, Herak simply judged the distance, waited for the commoner's swing to barely pass by in front of his body, and then lunged in for his own counter.

Like before, the duke's axe sliced into the commoner, this time his dominant arm. His eyes wide from shock, the soldier screamed and let go of his weapon.

Truly trained like a commoner.

In large groups and with good weapons, these people may have been considered a threat, but like this, nothing had changed at all from the old days before gunpowder. Herak thought so as he brought down the axe a second time, this time into the gap between the commoner's neck and chest. All sounds from the commoner stopped, as he stood like a puppet. Yet Herak spared him no glance, for there was still one left alive. And worst of all, it was the man who dared injure him. He had come to this camp for revenge, and he would get it. The next soldier would be a mere appetizer.

Chapter 411 - Returning the Favor

"Charge!" At the same time as Herak's command sounded across the battlefield, he himself stopped and pulled out his bow again. While the four hundred native warriors charged ahead towards the camp, his own knights formed around Herak. At the same time, twenty of his knights began to ignite torches, just how they had previously been instructed.

Usually, medalan battles would open with a skirmish from commoners to sound out the enemy and weaken their morale. Those tactics had been completely abandoned ever since they had proven useless in several battles against Saniya's commoner soldiers.

The southerners loved to open with salvos from cannons or muskets. These attacks did far more damage and were far more harmful to morale than the previous skirmishes.

However, Herak's attack had come so fast and from such an unexpected direction that neither the enemy cannons nor their formation of musketeers were quite in position yet. The warriors of Antila were lightly armored, and far more mobile than the usual troops. Yet due to their fast movements, the powerful ranged soldiers of the southern kingdom failed to take advantage of their weakness.

With all other forms of ranged combat temporarily out of the picture, Herak's war bow alone reigned supreme. Right before the warriors on both sides clashed against each other, Herak fired his first arrow. Once more it flew true, and hit the man standing to the right of the commoner formation in the chest.

Three left.

Of course, Herak hadn't just hit anyone at random. The southern army was organized in units of one hundred, and every unit would have its commander marching to the unit's left. His uniform would also have slight differences that were possible to spot once he knew what to look for. These were details he had slowly determined after many months of observation. Now the knowledge had allowed Herak to target the southern army's commanders directly, just how their own had been targeted before.

Right as steel crashed into steel on the front line, Herak fired a second arrow, and killed off a second commander.

Two left. Just enough.

Once more, Herak put away his bow. He still had some arrows left over, but he would need at least one later, and his purpose had already been achieved. Thus, as he put away his bow, the duke faced his knights and once more shouted, "Charge!"

This time, the rest of his men also began to move towards the enemy, following Herak's lead. Unlike before, he would not hide behind his men, but lead from the front. Maybe the cowardly generals of the southern kingdom would always stay behind and watch their men die for them, but Herak would never give up his pivotal role on the battlefield. How would he be able to lead by example if he always stayed back? How would he prove to his men that he was worthy of loyalty if he never showed that he was willing to die with them? Today, not only his own knights, but all soldiers of the southern kingdom would feel their determination.

By the time Herak and his knights closed in on the enemy formation, the medalan warriors under his command were already fully engaged in combat. Half of them had clashed against the equally charging warriors on the left flank of their opponent's formation. The other half had continued on past the warrior formation and engaged the stretched square of commoners in the formation's center.

Like so many times before over the course of this siege, Herak was impressed by the effectiveness of Saniya's commoner armies. Although they hadn't been prepared well and failed to take advantage of the power and long range of their advanced rifles, their halberdiers still managed to hold firm against the warrior charge.

Of course the attack this time was weaker than a full warrior charge. After all, their troops were only lightly armored and not as heavy on impact as usual. Not to mention that half of them had also been held up by the enemy flank, which left the remaining men disorganized as they closed in. Still, no other commoner formation that Herak had ever seen would have managed to withstand the impact of true warriors like this. Their formation barely buckled before it reclaimed its shape.

Soon, the first sporadic shots of musket fire also mixed into the sounds of battle. Protected by the halberds, the muskets behind slowly began to exert their strength. As a result, balance the combat began to tilt. At first, the commoners had been pushed back by the warriors, but now it looked like the outcome of battle hung in the balance. If nothing changed, victory would be decided by grit and morale.

However, the right flank of the enemy was still not engaged. Instead, the two hundred warriors were circling around to hit Herak's main force in the flank. If that were to happen, the encircled warriors wouldn't last long, but Herak didn't care about the fate of the native warriors. To him, they had always just been a decoy to buy him time and create a chance for victory. He didn't need much time, and his chance had already presented itself.

No matter how strict discipline was, no matter how good the plans, in the end, all would have to bow in front of the unpredictable chaos of real combat. In real combat, old habits would always rear their heads again, no matter what instructions a commander may have given beforehand.

Thus, as soon as the warriors of the southern army entered chaotic combat against opponents of equal caliber, they reverted back to their old instincts. Instead of retaining their formation to stabilize the front line or flanking their opponents to relieve the center, they had charged straight ahead and engaged in scattered one-on-one duels with their enemies. These honorable, hot-blooded fights were exactly the way they had been doing battle for countless generations, an instinct that was ingrained in their very blood. Thus, they charged forward every chance they got, drilling ever deeper into Antila's warrior formation.

In contrast, when faced with a strong charge from a powerful foe, the commoner soldiers of Saniya had retreated. To their credit, even the commoner units which had seen their commanders dead or injured from Herak's arrows hadn't collapsed immediately. Yet it was only their training that kept them together.

The habits of these commoner soldiers were also something that Herak had observed closely over the course of the siege. When faced with strong opposition, their training was simple, but effective. Small units of one hundred would form up into a tight square, with halberds on the outside and flintlocks on the inside. Then, they would slowly retreat as the muskets fired and the halberds defended. It was a well-planned tactic that had proven highly effective in preserving the formation, as well as guaranteeing the safety of the commoner soldiers. This was even more true considering just how vulnerable commoners were in open field combat against real cultivators.

This time however, their training would prove their weakness. When the south's warriors had charged ahead, their commoners had retreated at the same time. Even worse, commoner units whose commanders had been shot by Herak had been the ones to link up the center of the formation with the warriors on their left flank. Without their commander to regulate their behavior, they had fully reverted back to their training and retreated even further than other units in the face of the warrior charge.

Thus, the tactics meant to preserve the integrity of the defensive line had instead ripped a deep hole into the intersection between warriors and commoners. As the commoners retreated and the warriors advanced, that weakness continued to grow further and further. By the time Herak arrived, the two formations were connected by a mere sliver of thread.

Together with his hundred arcavian knights, Herak would prove the sword to cut through that thread in a single strike. Instead of engaging the flanking enemy on his left or supporting the disjointed Antila warriors in the center, Herak and his men charged right into the gap between commoners and cultivators. It collapsed without any discernible resistance. Herak just ran through the gap, while the handful of enemy warriors left to fill the hole were easily overrun by his knights. Suddenly, the stable formation of the southern army had been broken, and their troops had been split in two, while Herak and his hundred knights found themselves in the back of the enemy formation.

By this point, the common response would have been to turn around, encircle the enemy, and then rout them. By the time the flanking warriors got involved, the battle would already be decided.

Anyone else may have been tempted by the opportunity, smug that his tactics had finally overcome the invincible armies of Saniya in a major battle. Herak, however, knew better.

It wouldn't be long now until the reserve troops from the front line would come to join the battle on the southerners' side. By that point, thousands of additional troops would join the fight against them. No matter how good their tactics were, they would have no chance against such numbers. No, this mission had been a one-way trip from the very start. All they could do was advance, and hope that they would reach the enemy's command tent and capture their king before they were caught by their pursuers. His plan only offered a slim chance of victory, but for now the path ahead of them looked clear.

As soon as they had broken through, there was nothing but open space between them and the walls. Of course, there was still the thin trench covered in spikes, but that was more of a deterrent against climbing efforts, and no real threat for cultivators.

"Launch the powder!" Herak shouted.

Immediately, twenty of his knights came forward, all of them with large packages of straw that they carried in modified javelin launchers fastened to their arms. The straw was ignited by the torches other knights had previously ignited. As soon as the straw began to burn, the knights immediately threw their dangerous cargo towards the walls. Even before all the packages reached the walls, some of them exploded, and spread burning straw, sharp shards of pottery and the smell of gunpowder throughout the area.

Inside the straw was an urn of pottery, which in turn was filled with compacted gunpowder. Once ignited, the fire would spread across the straw on the outside, then either the heat would crack the clay and enter inside, or the powder would simply get too hot and explode on its own. However, most would break or crack upon impact, and explode then. The packages were large and heavy, so much so that only cultivators could throw them. As a result, their explosive power was also immense.

Boom!

One after another, the urns found their target. While the first few hadn't done any damage, subsequent urns landed right inside the trench, or next to the palisade wall. Aside from functioning as an improvised lute, the straw also guaranteed that the pots wouldn't roll away or break apart to spread around the compacted powder too much after landing. This way, the impact of the explosion would be maximized.

It was a strategy devised after seeing the southern kingdom's use of gunpowder against Antila's wall. Once more, Herak was determined to turn the dirty little tricks of the merchant against him, though the price was steep. This one attempt had used up all the remaining powder in Antila's arsenal.

In return, the effect was considerable. As more bombs exploded, the earth inside the trench was blasted away. Not only was this the wall of the trench, it was also the foundation of the palisades. As the foundation became less and less stable, several pieces of palisade began to lean. One had been directly hit by an exploding urn, and had broken off around the middle as a result. Better yet, the defenders atop the wall were thrown off their feet from the intense, continuous impact. Now they could no longer provide protection to the camp. The last defenses were gone.

At once, several palisades began to lean to the sides. All of a sudden, several holes had opened up inside the insurmountable obstacle. Although they would still be difficult to cross for ordinary commoners, it was no problem for cultivators.

"Charge!" Herak shouted one final time, and then waited for his men to move. Several of his knights got into position in front of the wall, their backs to the palisade and their hands locked together to create a footrest in front of their torsos. Immediately, the remaining knights charged up one after another. They jumped off the locked hands of the readied knights, and were then catapulted up, into the holes in the wall's defense. Some then entered through gaps in the remaining wall, while others continued to run up the leaning palisades.

Thus, several warriors managed to reach the top one after another, where they would fasten ropes for the remaining knights down below to travel up. Within seconds, Herak's knights had conquered this seemingly tough obstacle, with no losses. Soon, all of them would reach the relative safety of the empty enemy camp on the other side.

As for the native warriors of Antila who were now being encircled by the defending army? That was no longer any of Herak's concern. By now, he was only focused on the future. So what if a few barbarians had to die for his future?

In eager anticipation of the merchant's terrified face, he himself followed the first charge of his knights and jumped off one of his men's hands through a hole in the wall. Thus he overcame the final obstacle that stood between him and the merchant. A grim smile of determination formed on his face. By now, surely nothing could stop him anymore.

However, his grim smile only lasted a second. As soon as he crossed the palisades, he spotted a second spiked trench, built some three steps behind the original wall. At the moment, several of his knights had already landed inside. Pierced by the sharpened wood and the force of their own momentum, some howled in pain, while others were already silent.

Worse yet, another line of commoner soldiers stood at the edge of the spike pit with a chaotic assortment of weapons at the ready to intercept them.

How many layers of defense did they have prepared? Herak cursed in his heart. However, he didn't have much time to feel anger.

He was still stuck in the air, falling to his death and surrounded by enemies.

Hermit's Notes: What a cliffhanger. I think that's the first time that I end a chapter with one character literally in the air. 

Grand finale of this arc tomorrow (might end up as two chapters still).

Chapter 410 - Final Counterattack

Three days had already passed since the collapse of Antila's outer walls. By now, Saniya's troops had taken full control over every portion of the newly built star fortress that surrounded the old city walls. Atop these outer walls, they had already built reinforced positions, which they had even managed to defend over night. From within these positions, Saniya's soldiers were now ceaselessly storming up against the inner wall, like waves against the sides of a singing ship.

Since this morning, the southerners had even added cannons to the fortifications. From such close range, they could fire at the old city wall with impunity. As the last remaining defense of the city, it did not remain standing for long.

Since the inner city wall was an older construction from the days before cannons had conquered the battlefields of Medala, it was never built to withstand such powerful impacts. After only a few hours of bombardment, it had already partially collapsed under the cannon fire.

Thus, a continuous ramp had been created from the bottom of the outer wall all the way to the top of the inner wall. This passage was now funneling more and more soldiers of the southern kingdom into the last bastion of the allied forces that stood against their king.

Excited about their impending victory, the southerners charged up without pause, driving back the overwhelmed defenders wave after wave, as they pushed further and further into the city. Soon, the water would fill the ship completely, and cause it to sink.

Very good, just as expected.

Duke Herak of Balit watched the battle with great satisfaction. This was the first time he had had such a clear view of the siege from the outside. After all, he was no longer watching the battle from atop the walls of Antila. Instead, he was now hidden behind the hills west of the city, where he watched the last day of the war unfold from a save distance.

Behind him stood an army of about five hundred, elites made up of his own knights and the strongest, proudest remaining warriors among the allied armies of Antila. Behind them, the last stragglers of his raid group were just crawling out of a dark hole in the ground. The hole was well-disguised, hidden between the western hills and covered by branches and mud, far off from any battlefield or points of interest. It had been specifically built here to circumvent the merchant's army, and to deceive the eyes of his scouts.

Back when Herak had approved the request of the architect to start tunneling underneath Antila, construction of this tunnel had been his main goal. Of course, preventing the collapse of the wall had been a part of it too, but the duke had no longer had any illusions about winning the war by that point. No, rather than trying to win, he just wanted to gain some time. With more time, he could collect some additional cards to play during his eventual counter attack. Now, it was finally time.

Thus, while the architect had kept up his attempts to collapse all of Saniya's tunnels, he had also circumvented the entire underground network to create a single outlet for Antila's trapped forces. Through this outlet, Herak would now lead their final counterattack.

Once he had inspected his men to make sure all had made it out, he looked north-east, once more towards the enemy army. In their enthusiasm for glory - and possibly their desire for the plunder which awaited them inside Antila - almost all men of the southern army had balled up around the now defenseless city. For a myriad of reasons, no unit wanted to miss out on the final moments of this great war.

At this rate, the defenders wouldn't hold out until sundown, especially now that they were lacking most of their elites, as well as their commander. However, they wouldn't have to last much longer to cover for Herak's plans.

As he looked further towards the north, a wide grin formed on the duke's face. Somewhere underneath his mask, some of the thin, stretched-out skin burst again, and a trickle of blood ran down his cheek and towards his mouth, a familiar feeling.

As he watched the well fortified enemy camp, and even more so the southern army's command tent high up on a hill within, he licked his own blood off his lips. The iron taste excited him, and let him anticipate his immediate future. Within that tent, only a few hills away, he would find his arrogant nemesis, the little merchant who had created so much trouble for him throughout the years.

All he had to do was kill this one, weak man, and then Herak would be able to return back home. With the little king dead, he would restore his damaged honor, and he would also sow further chaos in Medala. With a single move, he could create a fertile field for other Arcavians to reap more benefits in the future.

Of course, this wasn't the only reason for Herak's operation, maybe not even the main one. Instead, he had come for revenge, revenge on the fat little merchant who had continued to defy him for years, who was responsible for his exile, who had made his last few years hell.

Finally, the day had come. Finally, Herak would get his revenge. That wouldn't save the city of course, nor would it change the outcome of this war, but none of that had ever mattered to the Duke of Balit anyways.

Once all his men had left the darkness and got into formation, he immediately gave the orders to advance towards the tent with the ostentatious purple flag on top, on towards his victory.

"Enough rest, form up!" Herak shouted towards the men who had only just caught their breaths after their escape from the claustrophobic underground world. With an impassive face, he watched as the men stood and slowly got into formation.

About one hundred knights, some four hundred local warriors. That should be enough.

As soon as his men were lined up in two distinct squares of different sizes, he gave his next orders.

"Now, march north! Let's break through their walls, see how they like it! Then we kill their heretical king, and end the war!"

Once the simple words of encouragement were spoken, he turned around, and led their march northwards through the hills. There wasn't much need to motivate the men anyways.

They were far behind enemy lines by now, and their only retreat away from the enemy was to the west. All they would find there were the empty midland hills that had already killed many warriors on their harsh march from Kapra to Antila. If they valued their lives, these barbarian natives would fight with everything they had. Of course, there was no need for Herak to worry about the loyalty of his own knights.

As he walked, the duke checked his own equipment one final time. His armor was lighter than usual, easier to maneuver in. Though of course, it would still be enough to block the attacks of the commoners the merchant loved to put his trust in.

He also had only brought five arrows with him, since his bow would only be useful for a shot or two. After all, he wasn't expecting to fight at a distance for long. As they were a marauding party, they would close in quickly and fight for a swift victory. For everything else, he would have to rely on his old broadsword, a gift from his brother, one that he had yet to draw ever since he had set foot on these barbarian lands. Maybe he would even get the chance to draw his dagger if he was ever stuck in a close fight, though he didn't expect that much resistance.

However, compared to his melee weapons, the bow proved necessary almost immediately. As soon as he spotted a glint in the distance, he drew his giant, black war bow from his back in one fluid motion. With his extensive combat experience, he knew exactly where the glint had come from. As expected, when he focused more on the source, he quickly spotted a small team of two men, peeking over the hill in front with their telescopes. Ever since spring had come, the southern scouts weren't camouflaged nearly as well by their white uniforms anymore.

The duke's experienced hands pulled an arrow from the quiver behind his hip and drew the bow to its fullest. In response, the scouts stood up. Maybe they wanted to dodge his attack, or maybe they were trying to flee. Either way, it was clearly the worst possible reaction, as it exposed their whole bodies to the duke's deadly projectile. Herak's arrow flew true, and bored straight through the first scout's throat.

Four left.

Yet before he could draw his second arrow, the second scout wizened up and immediately threw himself to the ground, following his dead companion. Thus, both went out of view, hidden behind the hill's crest.

Damn barbarians, how are they still so vigilant?

Most scouts of the southern army would be farther away from the main camp, spotting for any possible flanking movements from enemy armies. That was the reason they had been able to get this close unseen, their tunnel had undercut most of the enemy scouts. However, it seemed that even now that victory was in their grasp, the southerners retained a minimum level of vigilance.

Even so, while he was annoyed that they had been spotted this early, it wasn't like he hadn't expected resistance. A proper sneak attack would have been preferable, but he was fully prepared to break through with strength if it proved necessary.

After all, almost all of the merchant's men were still tangled up on the front lines. By the time they would return to their camp, everything would already be too late.

Thus, as he watched the bright red flame rise in the air from atop the hill, he turned to his men and ordered in a calm, powerful voice: "Speed up!"

Without any resistance, his men crested the hill the scouts had been stationed on, past the dead body and discarded flare. Finally, they once again saw the goal of their journey.

Down the hill, the south-eastern portion of the enemy camp lay right before them, only a few dozen steps away. The camp was ringed with a wall made of wooden palisades, twice as high as a man.

The forest of tents behind the wall was no longer visible from here, nor were the graves and medical tents beyond them. What was visible, however, was the trench filled with wooden spikes that surrounded the entire camp. That would be their second obstacle. The soldiers standing atop the walls, half hidden by the palisades, would be the third. No doubt they stood ready with their little rifles, eager to kill more superior cultivators through cheap means. Herak had long expected both obstacles, and had prepared well for them.

However, he would have to overcome another obstacle first. As Herak and his men marched down the hill, enemy soldiers swarmed out of the camp and began to line up. Maybe a thousand commoners in total were squirreling to line up between the wall and Herak's troops. As usual, halberds stood in front, with flintlocks behind them. At the same time, a total four hundred warriors poured out of the camp's exits. In the process, they were split in two, with about two hundred attempting to line up on the left flanks and right of the commoners.

More than I thought.

If he was honest, Herak found their quick response impressive. Even in the face of imminent victory, they had retained plenty of power to protect their camp. Together with the men on the walls, they had three times the numbers of Herak's little troop. Still, even that changed little. He had spent many days watching the armies of Saniya, and he had long identified their weaknesses.

He spared one last glance towards the east. Over there, towards Antila, the southern army's reserve troops were scrambling to get back to the camp, desperate to reinforce the defending troops. However, they would no longer be a factor in this war, not if Herak's plans were to succeed.

"Charge!" the duke screamed, and pointed straight at the center of the enemy position. Today, he had brought every last resource left in Antila, as well as everything he had learned since the start of the siege. His goal was only one: To kill the King of the South.

Hermit's Notes: So I was planning to post this chapter two days ago, and then I realized that one chapter wouldn't be enough. And two won't be enough either. By now, this will either be three or four chapters, depending on how the revisions go. Unless something major happens, there will be at least one more tomorrow.

Chapter 409 - An End to the War

The earth itself trembled and threw every single man on the battlefield to the ground. When they rose to their feet, they saw a plume of muddy dirt rise in the air, together with an eardrum-shattering boom. The primitive and violent fireworks signaled, in essence, the end of the southern kingdom's civil war.

Once the fireworks had died down, the full extent of the damage became immediately obvious. Antila's solid outer wall, up until then an insurmountable obstacle for the attackers led by General Pahuac Villca, had now crumbled into pieces. With the foundations underneath removed, the stone just slid down like snow in an avalanche. Thus, the insurmountable obstacle had turned into a convenient ramp up towards the old inner wall.

For an hour or so, both sides ceased combat. Both were still in shock at first, and then busy trying to save those who had been injured in the blast. At the same time they did their best to reorganize their troops. In the end, the southern kingdom, with its stricter organizational structure and better communication between units, managed to return into formations first.

As soon as the assault troops around Pahuac Villca were ready, they began a relentless attack upon the weak point that had finally opened up in a city defenses which had proven so frustratingly tough up to that point. To stem the tide, the defenders could only throw away more and more of their men in response. As they steadily lost ground, they filled one hole after another with bodies.

By now, the end of the battle was truly in sight. Everyone who watched the storm that day knew that it would be at most, only a few days more until the defenders were fully driven out of the city. One way or another, the war would end by then. The only question was, what kind of ending would it be?

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Heavy boots splashed up water and dirt as the warriors marched along the muddy road. Several crows took off from a fence built along the street and flew in the air, startled by the noise. With loud caws, the birds complained of the mistreatment that they had received at the hands of the retreating army. Although it was dreary, the image was still vivid, full of life. Even here, in the cold and nasty south of Medala, spring had finally arrived. It would have surely eased the transportation problems of Antila's army, if only it had still mattered.

At least spring has sped up the warriors' march.

Loreius Ichilia leaned out of his palanquin and looked back at the small army that was following him. In the end, only a bit over a thousand men had left Antila with him, including the four personal guards who were carrying his palanquin. At first, he had thought that he had firm control over a third of Antila's troops. He thought it would have been enough to leave the city without problems. Thus, as soon as he had made the decision to retreat, he had acted immediately. Indeed, when he had called his men together, almost all of them had appeared.

However, just as he was about to reach the harbor, commandeer some ferries and cross over to the safety of the eastern shore, he had been ambushed by the remaining troops in the city. Apart from a handful of guards on the wall, almost everyone seemed to have come and make things difficult for Loreius.

Of course, that wouldn't have been a problem had his men only remained steadfast. Yet as soon as they faced the slightest adversity, more than half of his warriors immediately left him. Not that he had ever trusted these men who had already abandoned their old houses to follow him, but he had still been angered by their cowardice.

It had only been thanks to his swift tongue that he had managed to stabilize the remaining men and retain some semblance of a force. The over one thousand troops he had been left with weren't much compared to the entire army who had surrounded them, but they had still been enough to make some trouble.

If they were pushed to a corner, they could always fight back, thus weakening the main forces remaining in the city further. Worse, if the enemy army heard the fighting in the city, a simple charge at night would have been enough to storm the city immediately. Thus, the defending lords led by the beast Herak had no choice but to let him go in the end. Still, Loreius could hardly call his dingy escape a success.

Maybe, he thought, he had underestimated the other lords in the city. In the end he was at least glad that he hadn't gone through with his plan to capture them. Otherwise, it may have ended poorly for him. At least now, he still had enough men left over to put some pressure on Pachacutec, once he arrived back north, that was.

He planned to reach Port Ulta first, to resupply and gather more information about the happenings in the central kingdom. From there, he would hire ships to transport his men to the southern parts of eastern Medala, which was land nominally under control of the central kingdom.

With his army's sudden appearance in the estates of Pacha's subordinate lords, he could pressure the young king to halt his advance towards Huaylas. At the very least, his allies would no longer be willing to lend their warriors for Pacha's invasion of Huaylas if their own estates were in imminent danger.

Once the situation was temporarily stabilized, he could cross the mountains, enter Arguna, and then argue for his rights in front of the elders of the Ziggurat. For now, that seemed like the best course of action to retain his status as head of House Ichilia and Governor of the West, and his best way to retain his family's power and preserve a chance for revenge.

For now, the first step of the plan had almost been completed. When he looked through the curtains of his palanquin towards the front, he could already see Port Ulta in the distance.

The Port was a large city by the standards of the south, which made it look a bit quaint in Loreius' eyes. Around the mouth of the Uskaylla River, the water had eaten away at the soft rock of the coastline, and had created one of the greatest natural harbors in Medala. Thus, the small city with the low stone walls and the tightly packed, miserable looking wooden huts had been placed here to serve as an anchor for ships. To the city's north were the extensive Ulta Caves, one of the great wonders of Medala, and in the past a hideout for the shameless pirates who had founded the city.

Already, Loreius could barely contain his excitement to see the great architecture that the high-born ancestors of this mighty city's people had left behind. However, before they reached the dingy pirate town, he saw another high-born group coming towards them. Their high status was easy to determine, since they also traveled across the landscape with a palanquin in tow.

As was was customary in Medala, the two troops slowed down when they came close to each other. After all, it would have been rude to avoid a conversation if two men of status met in the wild like this. Since the other side only had a small delegation of a few dozen people, Loreius wasn't worried about any dirty tricks. Thus, he ordered his men to slowly move closer to the opposite palanquin. When the two were next to each other, he opened the curtains to his side, and waited. Right away, the other side opened his curtains as well, and revealed his identity.

"Lord Padrava," Loreius said. "What fortunate meeting on this spring day."

"Likewise, Governor Ichilia," Padrava replied.

Margrave Hakon of Padrava was the representative of the other arcavian country that had cheated its way into medalan affairs with money and trickery. Thus, the margrave's status was considered equal to Herak. However, Padrava had been a lot less aggressive compared to his arcavian compatriot.

While the beast had been busy fighting in one local war after another, Padrava had mostly just attended the banquets of various lords and quietly made money through trade. Thus, Loreius was shocked to see the foreign lord travel towards the combat zone that was Antila, especially with such a small delegation.

As Loreius was still thinking about Padrava's goals for his trip, the foreigner had already continued the conversation.

"Governor and his men have not come from Antila, have they?" he asked.

"Indeed we have, Lord Padrava. There seems little point in continuing the fight, so this governor has decided to retreat early and spend his time in a more productive manner."

Of course he wouldn't tell the foreigner about the imminent danger Huaylas was in. There was a good chance that Padrava knew already, since he had just come from Port Ulta and news would travel to the ports first. Though if he knew, at least he had the tact to not say anything.

"In that case, could Governor inform me about the state of battle in the city?" Padrava asked instead

"The state of battle..." Loreius thought for a second, before he guessed the foreigner's intentions. "Lord Padrava should not plan to travel to Antila, correct?"

"Yes, that is exactly where we are headed." Padrava replied, a frown on his face. "This time I have come to end this pointless and expensive war, to the benefit of both sides."

"Is that so? In that case, this governor wishes Lord Padrava all the best. However, it seems doubtful whether such a mission could succeed." Bitterness spread in the young governor's mouth as he spoke, reminded of his own failings once more. Over the past moons, he himself had tried for peace many times. Not once had he even been heard, let along succeeded in brokering a deal.

"Oh, and why is that?" Padrava asked.

"The southern king is too stubborn, and too greedy for success. At the same time, Antila was about to fall when this Governor's men left the city. Why would King Corcopaca agree to end a war when he can already see victory? Not to mention, Lord Herak has shown singular focus on victory. This Governor doubts if Lord Herak would ever consider peace in the first place. Oh, Lord Herak controls most of the soldiers by this point," Loreius added. He looked forward to seeing a troubled face, but instead, Padrava looked relieved.

"In that case, a peaceful resolution should not be a problem. I have come with sufficient weight behind me. I am sure that the young king will at least listen to our improved conditions. In fact, we have even brought some additional gifts to sweeten the deal, and to pressure the king's allies."

As he spoke, Padrava gestured behind him with a smug grin on his unhealthy, pale face. When Loreius leaned out of his palanquin and looked towards the end of Padrava's delegation, he spotted a young man in chains with a miserable scowl on his face. Although he wasn't too familiar with Sachay's politics, Loreius still recognized him as someone of great identity.

"Epunamo Villca?" he wondered.

The oldest son of House Villca and rightful heir of Cashan, the man who had been protected by the Arcavians in Port Ulta all this time, was now given up just like this? Without having to ask further, Padrava answered the young governor's concerns.

"Yes, indeed. Now that it appears as if the entire south will fall into the hands of the southern king, there is little chance of regaining control over Cashan. This chess piece has lost its value as a result. However, it can still be played to pressure the king's allies. I am certain that the Villcas within the southern kingdom's army would be glad to end the war in exchange for this man. Without strong support from the Villcas, the king's army will be weakened. Not to mention that their supplies are routed through Cashan. Thus, the king's position in subsequent negotiations would weaken as well."

"Again, if Lord Padrava can get your Lord Herak to agree," Loreius replied, still not convinced that this pale-faced foreigner could do what even he had failed at.

"That, in fact, should be the least of our problems," the smug foreigner said, and held high a letter sealed with red wax, marked with a seal Loreius had never seen before.

"This time, King Tolmar of Borna has personally sent correspondence," Padrava explained. "The king has been worried about his brother Herak. It seems that in the duke's absence over the past years, the king has carefully maneuvered within his domain, and has finally managed to restore his brother's honorable status among Borna's nobility. Though the details elude me, there is no longer any excuse to uphold Duke Herak of Balit's exile. Surely, the duke would be happy to return home immediately, rather than being forced to continue this pointless war in foreign lands."

Hidden by the curtain, Loreius clenched his fist in annoyance, but when he replied, his voice was still calm.

"It seems Lord has considered everything carefully," he said. "In that case, we shall no longer hold Lord Padrava here. This Governor wishes Lord a successful negotiation."

"Thank you, Governor Ichilia. A good journey to you as well."

Once the palanquin was closed up again - and once more made its way towards Port Ulta - Loreius closed his eyes. Immediately, the manic eyes of Herak entered his mind, and just wouldn't leave him. Finally, the beast would no longer be here to maraud around Medala as he pleased . However, with how far the creature's mental state had deteriorated over the course of the siege, he wondered if Padrava would still be in time to save him.

If he was honest, Loreius Ichilia hoped the smug foreigner would be too late, so that he too could taste the defeat they had all become so familiar with.

Hermit's Notes: Surprise, the war isn't quite over yet. One more chapter of fighting, and then a bunch of Epilogue until the end of book 6. At least one more chapter tomorrow.

Chapter 408 - Instinct

As if a giant hand was sweeping through the tunnel, Chalco was pulled off his feet and fell backwards. He heard a boom, and then only ringing in his ears.

When he looked back up, he saw that his men were lying on the floor as well, their life or death unknown. Chalco wanted to run back and save them immediately, but just as he tried to get up, he felt a deep thump from the ground between his fingers. As an architect with, by now, extensive experience in tunneling, it was all he needed to come to a horrible conclusion.

Oh no, they've managed to dislodge the supports already. When he looked at the place of combat, he could see that several of the supports had broken apart. Maybe his men had already started to dismantle them, and the explosion was the last rice grain that had sunk the boat.

The vibrations he was feeling between his fingers came from the earth that had begun to shift all around him. If it didn't settle itself soon, there would only be one outcome. The whole tunnel was about to go down.

As soon as he had the thought, several small clumps of dirt fell from the ceiling and covered his head and shoulders.

Oh Divines. Don't let me die like this.

Sure, the priests would claim that dying underground, closer to the underworld, was better than almost any alternative, but he still didn't want to be buried alive under tons of earth. Yes, he had thought before that his current life was miserable and hopeless, but now that he thought about it, he preferred a miserable life over a miserable death.

Confused, he looked around, and finally found some hope to cling to. In the dim light of the lamps, he could see water shimmer right next to himself. It was the flooded side-tunnel that he had almost tripped into earlier. Rather than trust the slipping structural integrity of the earth above him, he chose to trust his lungs.

"Run, the tunnel is about to collapse!" he shouted to warn his men. Although he couldn't hear anything, and didn't know if his people were even still alive, it was the last thing he could do for them. Then, he ran to the side tunnel and dove into the water.

Darkness enveloped Chalco. With no sound and no sight, he would have thought that he had left his body behind completely, if he hadn't been so miserably cold in the icy water. However, he didn't panic. He knew how the southerners had built their side-tunnels, so he knew he could make it through if only he remained calm.

Thus, he grabbed the rough earth to the side of the tunnel, and followed along. First down, and then soon back up. When he was half-way, he felt the earth shake violently. Something had collapsed, but he had no time to care. Instead, he continued to feel his way through the darkness until he emerged on the other side.

When he did, he took a deep breath of air to calm his burning lungs. Finally, he crawled out of the water, and used the wall to get back to his feet. Maybe he was still in the same tunnel as before, the one that may have been collapsed by this point. Everything around him was dark, and cold. He stood crouched as his arms clung around his shivering torso to warm himself. Frozen and terrified, Chalco thought just for a second that he hadn't survived his dive, and had in fact drowned and entered the underworld.

Finally, the cold in his body lessened slightly, so he stood back up straight, and felt for the wall again. The rough and wet earth was the same as anywhere else, and his eyes wouldn't get used to the darkness. There was no light to be had anywhere, and he had no idea where he was. Out of options, and unsure if he was even still alive, he finally called out, not too loud so he wouldn't disturb the damaged ceiling any further.

"Hello, is anyone there?"

In response, a sharp hiss sounded, and a bright, red light illuminated the entire corridor.  The tunnel was now flame-red, as was the rubble that was lined up behind him and blocked his path. To his left, he found the side-tunnel he had used to save his life. Now, in the red light, it looked like blood. And in front, he finally saw the end of the tunnel.

Towards the end, the wide corridor narrowed, and it was lacking all supports. However, he couldn't tell whether or not the tunnel had reached the walls, or even if this was still the previous tunnel, because its end was covered by a number of barrels.

Atop the barrels sat a young man who held a bright red flame in his hand, which made his face hard to distinguish, while his whole bearing appeared ominous.

"And who're you?" the ominous being asked in a tense voice.

"This master..." Confused, Chalco looked around the place, before he blurted out: "What is this place? Have I reached the underworld?"

As he spoke, he walked a few timid steps towards the figure. Only now did he notice that the ominous creature wasn't all that tall, or imposing, and that he wore the uniform of Saniya that Chalco had become so familiar with over the course of the siege.

Now he wasn't quite sure why someone in the underworld would wear a uniform from Saniya, though he suspected that he may indeed still be alive.

"Well," the uniform leaned forward, maybe to measure up Chalco or to look at the destroyed tunnel behind them. Only then did he continue, his tone now less demanding, a barely audible tremble hidden within. "It seems like this is it, then. You can't see any holes back there, can you? Any way to get back out of here?"

Finally, Chalco fully believed that he hadn't landed in the underworld quite yet. This was just another soldier of Saniya, who was as lost in the tunnels as he himself. Again, he looked at his surroundings, but didn't spot anything of note.

"No," he finally replied. "Not apart from the water hole in the side-tunnel over there. Though it is not a path worth attempting. Its terminus should have already collapsed by now."

"Well, fine. Just means that I'll have to end it early."

As he spoke, the warrior swung around the stick that still had a bright red flame growing out of it, and in the process illuminated the area behind him. Finally, Chalco could fully confirm his position, since he recognized the smooth stone texture behind the man. They were standing right next to the foundations of Antila's walls.

Just as he realized as much, he also realized why a soldier of Saniya would be sitting here. Only a split second later, he understood what was in those barrels, too.

"Wait!" he shouted, before the man put the light to the rope that turned out to be a lute. "You will kill us all!"

"Yes, but we'd die anyways," the uniform said. His shoulders were low, his voice defeated. "And it's my orders."

"No! You cannot die for something as useless as orders, can you?" Chalco tried again as he took another step forward. His death was already sealed, but at the very least, he could still prevent the destruction of his life's greatest work. "Why die for an empty cause that has nothing to do with you? Only because your king told you?"

"Wait, Aren't you one of the traitor guys?" the uniform shot back. "Don't deny it. I can tell from the way you talk all uppity."

Chalco tried to make another step to prevent the man from doing anything rash, but the uniform lowered the flame in his hand even further towards the barrels.

"One step more and I blow us up right now," he growled. "Now answer."

"Yes, it is true," Chalco relented. "This master is part of Antila's brave defenders. However, both of us are still Medalans, still men of Sachay. Both of us are the same, is that not what your king has been preaching?"

"Now you're talking about peace and unity!?" The uniform shouted, and little kernels of dirt loosened off the ceiling and walls in response. "It was you bastards who caused all this! If you hadn't tried to kill our king and destroy our city, no one would have had to die! If you didn't sit here behind your damn walls like cowards, how many lives could have been saved? You say my death is useless? How many people died for no reason in this war? It's already over, you've lost, but you still keep going, until no one's left. Is your pride worth that much!? You know that we've had to expand our mass graves again last week!? If it wasn't for you, none of them would be dead! You hear me!? Not Qhatuq, and not me! And it's your fault!"

By the end of it, the commoner was screaming, barely in control of his faculties. In panic, Chalco stepped back and lowered his stance, all to calm down the mad commoner who was about to collapse the ceiling with his rage.

"Of course, I admit, it is all my fault," he said. Now Chalco's voice was trembling. "Just take away the flame. Not all hope is lost. We can still be saved if we just hold out here for a while. We can still survive. Just claim that your red flame got wet and failed to start. None of your commanders would ever have to know the truth."

"You really think we'd survive long enough for rescue to arrive? You're dreaming."

"When the tunnel collapsed earlier, I also survived by swimming through the water hole. All hope appeared lost, yet here I stand."

For a second, the commoner just stared at him, before he mumbled: "That's right, better to try something than to do nothing."

Though the commoner was talking more to himself, Chalco could still hear him. All of a sudden, the commoner off his barrel and walked towards Chalco.

"Good, so you have finally seen reason," the architect said, but before he could be too happy, the commoner bent down to the ground, and lowered the flame stick onto the lute.

"Please stop. What are you doing?"

As Chalco spoke, he realized that the flame had begun to sputter, and lose intensity. Under the fading light of the red flame. the man's grin looked like a true demon of the underworld.

"I'm Improvising," he said, before he dropped the flame onto the lute and began sprinting towards Chalco. A second later, just before the stick went out, a flame ignited on the ground. Horrified, Chalco watched as the flame slowly traveled along the ground, towards the barrels filled with explosive powder. Before he could do or say anything, the expanding figure of the commoner running towards him blocked his sight of the flame completely.

"Your water hole!" the shadow shouted. "Run!"

Before he could even think, Chalco reacted on instinct. He turned around, and rushed towards the side-tunnel again, exactly where he had just come from. Maybe if he had been calmer, he would have had the composure to just overpower the commoner and then step on the little flame before it reached the barrels. Maybe he would have even thrown himself onto the flame, rather burning himself to death than let the commoner from Saniya win.

But in this moment, he no longer thought about Pari, or about his wall, or about his home. Faced with imminent death, all his body could focus on was survival. Thus, he once again jumped into the flooded side tunnel, head-first this time. Right after, the commoner followed.

Seconds later, the lute burned down and disappeared into the barrels.

Chapter 407 - Order Into Chaos

As if he was stuck in a bog, Chalco was felt like he was slowly drowning in his desperation. At first, he had thought that his task would be easy enough: Just collapse the tunnel their enemies were trying to dig. The day they had succeeded in destroying the first tunnel, he had celebrated for the first time since the start of the war.

Although their losses had been heavy, he had been convinced that their enemies would become discouraged by their show of bravery from the on. Soon however, he had realized that there were multiple tunnels their foes had dug already. Still, those would only require some minor, additional effort.

His task had still seemed manageable then, but it had since spun completely out of control. Every time he thought he had a handle on the enemy, they either increased their efforts - throwing more men and materials underground - or they would come up with new tricks to foil his desperate attempts to defend his home.

And with every expansion of the conflict underground, Antila had to sacrifice more of its sons to retain a balance and prevent their complete collapse. Thus, their losses just kept climbing more and more, and yet the enemy tunnels crawled closer and closer to their walls anyways. By now, their position seemed truly hopeless. Even so, Chalco had neither the time nor the interest to consider giving up.

At least let my wall stand until the war is over.

That was the last pride he clung to. His hopes of saving his city had long been dashed. He no longer had any illusions about a reversal of fates, and was simply looking forward to their eventual defeat, so he could finally rest.

Though if there was nothing else he could do, at least he would hold off the tunnels long enough so that Antila's troops would surrender before his walls collapsed. At least this way, not all his work would have proven worthless. That was his pride.

Yet at the moment, even that modest goal looked like an impossible dream. While he stood there, with an axe in his hand and a small troop of his workers behind him, the warriors of Antila were once more fighting and dying before him.

Here as well. How are we supposed to get through this?

Like always, warriors were pushing and shoving against each other in the tiny corridors underground. This had been going on ever since the southern army had begun to connect its individual tunnels to create a large network.

With the heavy armors and shields the warriors wore, as well as the lack of space to maneuver, these battles almost always turned into pure contests of endurance. Not even the southern commoners with their sharpened sticks could change anything about that. As the warriors got more experience in this style of battle, they began to last a lot longer without major losses. Sometimes, it would take hours until any position within the tunnels got overwhelmed by a side. And so long as both sides still fought, there would be no going past them, since they would block the entire passage.

As Chalco tried to recall the approximate layout of the underground maze in his head, Qori returned from within one of the passages ahead.

"This one is blocked too, boss. Looks like the fighters will take a while until they are done," the warrior said. "So where to now?"

"This is troublesome," a hesitant Chalco replied after a long time of indecision. "Assuming the enemy's plans have not changed, we can suspect that their main tunneling direction should be right ahead of our position. There are three side-paths available that we could take to reach the position. However, we have checked all three paths, and all are currently blocked off by combatants."

"What about taking a detour?" Qori asked. In response, Chalco shook his head and explained.

"The workers only opened this new direction of attack two days ago. We have not had time to build any circumventing tunnels, and we do not know enough about the enemy tunnels in this area to traverse them. Who knows where we would end up if we just marched based on instinct."

"So we can do nothing until someone wins in these tunnels," Qori concluded.

"That is the long and short of it." Chalco nodded and crossed his arms.

Although they could do nothing at the moment, he was still calm. After all, this wasn't the first time they were stuck like this. In the narrow, crowded underground battlefield, most combatants were forced to do nothing most of the time.

In the early days of the war, this inaction had made Chalco nervous. Every time they were stuck like this, he would order his workers to start tunneling alternate paths, or help the warriors in their contest of strength by pushing from behind. However, most of their 'help' had shown no effect, and had only tired them out at critical moments. So over time, he had learned that it was smarter to just calm down and wait for the opportunity to show their best.

Thus, a relaxed Chalco stood there quietly, waiting. Only nervous shuffling and coughs in the corridor behind him reminded the architect of the workers who had come with him.

"Stay lively, men!" he shouted as he turned his head. "Only a matter of time until our guys break through. So we need to be sharp, sharp enough to cut off the claws that are grasping for our homes when we get the chance!"

Although his speech was vigorous, his men only reacted with some lazy grunts. Clearly, the weeks of constant work and fighting, coupled with the increasingly dire food situation in Antila, had eroded their earlier enthusiasm. Though the fact that he had made similar speeches many times before probably didn't help either.

At least in that regard, his overenthusiasm of the past had been useful. If they had some work to do, his guys wouldn't have to think about their hopeless situation all the time. As it was, their numb reaction felt dangerous. They wouldn't follow his orders much longer, and might just rout without enemy contact.

Just hold on a bit longer, Chalco prayed in his heart. Just until the guys above have given up.

As soon as he had the thought, it seemed like his prayers had been heard.

In front of him, the low grunts of strenuous, long-term combat changed. First, sounds of dogs mixed in with the rest. Not long after, sharp screams pierced through the noise of the tunnels and replaced all others.

They're here! Finally!

"Let's go!" he shouted towards the workers behind him, and then rushed into the tunnel from which he heard the shrillest voices.

For days, Chalco had watched as the war hounds of House Vareo had been transported over to Antila, and then retrained, specifically to support them underground. Back then he had asked one of the tamers of House Vareo how these beasts would even distinguish between the troops of Antila and Saniya in the chaos down here.

'They all smell the same,' was it? Chalco remembered.

Apparently, Saniya's troops were given soap as part of their standard rations, and indeed, they had found soap on many killed and captured enemy bodies. Although Chalco didn't understand why they would need such a luxury item during a war - and although he had been jealous of their strong supply lines that could afford to transport such useless products - he was now glad they got them.

Since all of Saniya's people were using the same soap, all of them smelled the same, and the dogs could be trained on all of them. As Chalco's worker team charged through the tunnels, he immediately saw the effects of the long training.

The dogs had been released from one of the many hidden entrances he had built over more than a full moon of work. As soon as the hounds entered the complex caverns, they changed the nature of combat underground. From one moment to the next, vicious beasts rushed through the darkness like ghosts and attacked anything they were trained on. As the beasts used side tunnels and small holes to attack from unexpected angles, the clean formations from before were torn apart and made way to unplanned chaos.

At last, Antila's troops had gained a temporary advantage, though Chalco knew that it wouldn't last for long. He wasn't sure how it would take for the southerners to deal with the hounds, but they certainly could only play a trick like this once. Most of these animals would never see sunlight again.

However, Chalco couldn't dwell on their fates. If he wanted their deaths to at least be meaningful, he had to fulfill his mission. At least that the hounds had made much easier than before. Within the chaos, Chalco's crew finally found a chance to move forward.

Slowly, they made their path north, ever closer to what he expected to be the position of their enemy's main tunnel. Every once in a while, they would see soldiers from either side, stuck in combat with each other. At other times, small packs of hounds would rush past them, mere black shadows rushing along in search for prey. Sometimes, they would have to wait for a while, but it wasn't like before. The sluggish underground battle had since come alive, and stalemates were quickly resolved within the chaos.

Finally, after a long and careful walk that avoided all threats, they saw something Chalco hadn't seen in days: A several steps wide tunnel, one which was high enough that he didn't have to bend down all the time. It was lined with wooden beams at even spacing, and lit up brightly by precious oil lamps all along the walls. Even the floor had been flattened and planed to make transportation easier and tripping less likely. Though of course, it had since turned into a muddy mess after days of neglect.

This had been the construction method for Saniya's tunnels early on. Since then, they had been forced to take many shortcuts to speed up their progress. Either way, the downright luxurious state of their surroundings told them that they had arrived at their main target: They had finally entered the third of Saniya's main tunnels.

Though when they arrived there, Chalco was shocked to see not a single soul in sight.

Has everyone disappeared to fight elsewhere? he wondered, though only for a moment. There was no time to lose after all. It was better to take advantage of the short peace so long as they could work undisturbed.

"Let's get to work!" he shouted thus. Immediately, Qori stepped up next to Chalco and shouted at the workers.

"Hear that, you lazy louts!? Bring down this one little tunnel, and then we all get to go back home for a full meal!"

Compared to Chalco's impassioned speech from earlier, Qori simple enticement was far more effective. As soon as they were promised a decent meal, the men got to work again.

As he watched the workers put axes to the wooden support in eager anticipation of a full stomach, the architect was saddened that a simple meal would be enough to motivate his men to such an extent. Antila had already fallen so far that basic necessities were treated like luxury goods. Meanwhile, the southern kingdom soldiers were still using enough soap that the dogs could smell it on them.

Their poverty was something Chalco felt deeply ashamed by, since he was responsible for all these men, his workers. However, it wasn't something he could change anything about. He himself hadn't had a full meal in quite some time, not since he had to give up his stash. Moreover, at this moment, he had far greater concerns, like their exact position, and the structure of this tunnel they had found themselves in.

To his left, he found a short section of tunnel that soon swerved left around a corner, so he couldn't see very far. To his right, the tunnel continued for a while, before the wooden supports and oil lamps along the walls disappeared. The end of the tunnel was covered in darkness, truly concerning. After all, this tunnel led towards the east, the direction of Antila's walls.

"Qori, get some men to stay at the corner over there," he said as he pointed to his left. "We need early warning if someone shows up."

Once he had finished his orders, he walked towards the right, towards the darkness.

"Boss, where are you going?" Qori asked, as he watched Chalcos follow the tunnel's east direction.

"We have to find out how close they have come to the walls. If they are farther along than our estimates, then we will have to increase our efforts in the future. My return will be swift. Qori will be in charge until then." After Chalco was done with his instructions, he continued on.

In truth, he only barely managed to keep his voice steady due to anxiety. And the farther he walked, the more confused he became. How far had these people dug already? This was closer to the walls than he had ever imagined even in his worst case scenarios. In his haste, he tripped over his own feet, and landed in deep water with his hands.

What is this, a side tunnel? he wondered, as he stared at the dark hole that had been dug out in the walls of the tunnel. Apparently, the Saniya people didn't have time to pump out all the water anymore. Instead, they were digging side-tunnels and let them naturally fill with water from the main tunnel to drain all the liquid. Maybe that was how they had been making such quick progress.

When he stood back up, he stared at his feet and realized that a piece of rope had entangled itself on his boots and caused his fall. Although he didn't know what it was used for, he freed himself and quickly marched on.

Shocked and confused, he continued to walk along the main tunnel, ever deeper. Once he had walked deep enough, the light from behind made seeing in front almost impossible. All the lamps had been left behind, so he could no longer see what was in front.

We cannot be far from the walls now, but it appears no one is here at least, he thought. They could never have reached them yet, could they? It appears the hounds have interrupted their work. We just barely prevented the worst.

Just as he finished his thought, a noise came from behind.

"Enemy attack!" he heard, before chaotic noises from his workers followed.

What happened? Again he looked down at the thin rope that ran across the ground all along the tunnel. Damned idiot, did I trip an alarm?

Rather than blame himself further, he clutched his axe tightly and rushed back. By the time he could see his men again, they were already engaged in combat. They were positioned right up to the bend on the other end of the tunnel. In lines of three they stood, somehow trying to hold off their enemies with tools made for construction.

Opposite them stood only two, but they were armed heavily. The warriors carried short axes and wore heavy armor. On their hips, they also carried two short muskets each. These special soldiers called 'grenadiers' had been deployed by the southern army since half a moon ago, and they had proven deadly effective in close quarters.

Damn, damn! Why them, of all people?

Whenever they ended up in a clinch with the enemy, these warriors would just draw their ranged weapons and shoot at point blank range. The short and heavy pistols were enough to punch through any armor at short distance, and the grenadiers carried enough powder and shot to last all day underground.

Desperately, Chalco rushed forward, to support his men before they would be taken apart. Yet before he even got close, he saw Qori behind the front line pick up a rock off the ground.

"Give it all you got!" he shouted. "They are only human too!"

With that, he chucked his stone over the workers, towards the heavily armored foes. Yet the stone didn't even hit the armor. Instead, it ricocheted off the ceiling and landed on an oil lamp on the wall. Straight away, all the oil stored in the lamp ignited and poured onto one of the grenadiers.

A sharp scream, high and shrill as if it came not from a human, filled the tunnel immediately. The burning figure lit the tunnels brightly as it flailed around. Straight away, the workers retreated to take their distance from the man, but it was already too late. Before they had taken more than a few steps, the powder stored on the man's back ignited.

Hermit's Notes: Finally got this chapter done, I think it turned out all right? (Although it also duplicated, which is worrying)

Antila Siege Diagram

Hey, hermit's here. 

Here's some images that should make visualizing the siege in the most recent chapters a bit easier. As I was making these, I realized that I can't actually post the most useful one yet, since the relevant chapter hasn't been written yet, so I will update this post with a fourth, more useful, image once that becomes relevant.

Also, new chapter coming soon, hopefully tomorrow. As always, finishing off a story line/writing a finale to anything is an absolute nightmare, so it's taking a bit longer than I thought it would. Almost through the very difficult part though, which means that I'll be able to churn out chapters at a good rate pretty soon-ish. 

Fingers crossed.

Edit: Added the new image, the one that's actually useful because it contains the location of the hidden tunnel.

Chapter 406 - Termites

Drip------Bang----Drip---------Aaah!------Boom-----Crash

-------Charge!-------Grrr-------Boom-------Drip---Nooo!---

---Splash---Aaah!-----Drip----Bang-----Hold!------Woof-

Did I hear a dog?

No that couldn't be right. Making out any sounds within this mess was impossible. A vile cacophony of noise was already assaulting Taki's ears, and now he was even imagining things. As usual, he tried to concentrate on a single sound, to isolate one so he could confirm whether or not what he had heard was true.

Drip-----Bang------Over here!-------Drip------Grrr-------Boom!

--------Splash!--------Retreat!----------------Drip---------------------

Yet this time, it just wouldn't work. No matter how hard he tried, his attempts to concentrate only gave him a headache. Over the past two weeks, the soundscape of the underground tunnel had turned into indecipherable chaos. There was no saving it anymore, since the underground battlefield had been completely transformed over such a short period of time.

Ever since their first encounter underground, the two armies had invested more and more manpower into tunnel construction. At first, Saniya's troops had been slow and careful, investing not too much to keep their tunneling operations a secret from Antila's defenders. Now that they had been uncovered, there was no more reason to hide, so they simply increased the number of men and underground routes.

At the same, Antila's defenders now knew of their plans, and they knew that their defeat would be sealed if they didn't prevent the tunneling work. Thus, they threw everything they had left into the dark holes of the underground in order to prevent the worst result. 

After a massive transformation from both sides, the tunnels which used to be so well-planned and orderly had become unrecognizable in a short period of time. While before, they had tunneled like moles, now both sides were burrowing like termites. After weeks of fighting between the two sides, their respective actions had led to an ever-escalating underground arms race. 

As part of their new defensive tactics against foreign interference, every tunnel dug by Saniya had to be accompanied by a much smaller side-tunnel. Such an additional tunnel would act as a shield. In case of a breakthrough accompanied by flooding, the side tunnel would flood first and leave plenty of time to retreat the forces in the main tunnel. In case of a breakthrough with warriors, the side tunnel would trap any would-be attackers inside, making them easy to surround and eliminate. 

However, their enemies had soon responded to these new measures and started to build multiple tunnels as well, to flank their prepared positions. Then, some of the half-collapsed tunnels from previous engagements were also used to reconnect with the new ones, to open up avenues of retreat and attack for Saniya's troops. All the while, Antila's troops had built several fake entrances, which were meant to lure a small number of Saniya's warriors inside Antila's walls and then collapse the whole corridor from above. It was a tactic that had only yielded significant results once, but it had also prevented stronger counterattacks through the existing tunnels of Antila from Saniya's conservative commander.

After all of these moves and counter-moves, the few, simple routes underneath Antila had turned into a giant, chaotic maze. Taki was sure that only General Scolo, with his room full of underground maps, still fully understood what was going on down here. Even a scout like him, who had spent every day underground since the start of their construction, would sometimes get lost in the minor routes.

Within this labyrinthine construct, the sounds of fighting, the sounds of water, the sounds of the exhausted workers all combined to create a formless noise that even Taki's great ears got lost in. By now, his greatest talent was completely useless.

Even though his talents had ceased to be useful, he was still assigned to the tunneling crews. Maybe his commander had simply forgotten where he was in the chaos, or maybe he was too busy solving problems to bother with a minor role like him, but either way, Taki had been stuck down here.

After days of inactivity, he had been sent on an important and meaningful mission, for this underground hell would soon disappear in violent glory, and him and all the other soldiers would finally be able to go home. Because as of two hours ago, their tunnels had finally reached the stone foundations of Antila's walls.

Thus motivated by his work, Taki tried to filter out the constant noise in his ears and simply looked down into the dark gray mud that rose up his boots. Although its color was hard to discern in the dim light of the oil lamps, it still reflected the battlefield as a whole. Everything was dirt and water and blood, a hellish place, where only the strongest minds would prevail.

When he was stuck in his thoughts, he stumbled, maybe on a rock, or on a deeper puddle within the mud. He really couldn't tell, since his feet had long gone numb from the cold. Somehow, he held onto the wall with one hand to prevent his fall. At the same time, he held the barrel on his back with the other, wedging it between his body and the wall.

That was close.

Cold sweat dripped from his brow and into the mud down below. If he let go of the barrel, it might get wet, and then the powder inside would be useless. Now that they had reached the walls, there was only one thing left to do: Pile up a mountain of gunpowder, and then blow up the foundations. 

Since he was a scout who had been down here for weeks and knew the tunnels better than most, he had been given the orders to help carry the barrels. He hadn't complained about his new assignment, since at least he would be useful again. Of course there were also workers and soldiers who had been in these tunnels with him all this time, but both still had their duties. Unlike the useless Taki, the soldiers especially were fighting hard so that the scout could fulfill his mission.

Somewhere to his right, the noise was even louder than elsewhere. Not only was the sound louder, it was also more intense, with far more human screams than anywhere else. If his ears hadn't completely given up on him, Saniya's troops were protecting the side tunnels again, and it seemed like the fighting was intense. However, the sounds were muffled, and far away, so it seemed like the main tunnel was still safe for now. 

Even so, he reflexively looked down at the signal flare stuck in his waistband. Normally, it would be used to signal for help if he encountered danger during his scouting runs. Down here, it was completely useless. Down here, he would have to survive on his own.

He knew which way to go, since he had gone it countless times over the past months. Spurned by the distant danger in his ears, he trudged forward, every closer towards the walls that would end all of their suffering. Yet things could never be this simple in this blasted war.

Out of the darkness, a glint of light shot towards Taki, who stumbled back on reflex. When he looked up, he saw the axe head that had sailed past his neck by a hair.

Blast, how are they here already?

Weren't they still fighting in the side tunnels? How had enemy soldiers made it into the main tunnel to block his path? However, as he looked closer, he realized his mistake. Although the clothes were dirty and hard to identify in the dim light, the attacker in front of him undoubtedly wore the white uniform of Saniya's army.

"Aah! Die, you bastards!" Taki's ally screamed, as he raised his axe once more to attack.

Has he gone mad? 

As the man got closer and Taki saw his unfocused eyes flit around the tunnel, he realized that he was exactly right. This wouldn't have been the first warrior Taki saw lose his mind down here.

"Stop! We're on the same side!"

As Taki backed up further, he shouted to bring the man back to his senses, against his better judgment. Of course, it was no use.

"Stop coming! Just die already!" the man screamed, and continued to swing his weapon at imaginary foes.

What now? Taki wondered. The man was clearly confused, but Taki was neither able nor eager to talk it out any further.

Just as he was hesitating, he felt the barrel on his back bump against the tunnel wall.

This is it, no more retreating. Let go of the barrel, and fight back. 

He made the decision in a split second. Even if the powder got wet, he could always just return and get a new barrel. For now, his life was more important than his mission. His fingers had just begun to lift away from the wood, when once more, a single sound peeled out of the droning noise.

Grrr!

There really were dogs!

A giant, black beast charged through a side tunnel and leaped onto the confused man's arm. The animal bit down and wouldn't let go.

"Aaaah! Stop!" the confused man screamed in pain, while Taki still stood there with his back to the wall. Where had this dog come from? Who had unleashed it into the tunnels?

Doesn't matter.

Whatever was happening here, he had to get some distance between himself and danger first. Thus, he once more grabbed his barrel firmly, and stepped over the tangled, screaming, and growling bodies. Soon he charged ahead, once more into the darkness, and left behind the screams and growls. Soon, they rejoined the maddening cacophony of the tunnels once again.

There were no more interruptions on the way, so it wasn't long until he reached the end of the path. Before him was a narrow tunnel, dug so freshly that it still hadn't been fashioned with oil lamps at its very end. Through the dim light from the lamps behind, Taki could just about make out the dirty, gray stone at the very end.

There it finally was, Antila's wall, their greatest foe. And before it, his predecessor baggage carriers had already placed half a dozen barrels of gunpowder atop a wooden support that would keep away the water.

"Finally another appears," a relieved voice said. It had come from a man who had stood half-hidden behind the barrels.

"You are?" he asked, as he took a defensive stance, ready to drop the barrel and run at any moment. Although the man wore their uniform, Taki was no longer eager to trust appearances after what had happened earlier.

"I'm chemist Shulla, apprentice to Master Bombasticus, in charge of the explosions here," the young man said. "No one has come for a while, so I was worried. But with your barrel, we should have barely enough. No more time to waste, so put your cargo over there." He pointed at a spot atop another two barrels.

Taki walked over and labored to get his barrel on top of the others. Luckily, Shulla gave him a hand.

"Thank you, master," he finally said, glad to be free of his load.

"Of course. No time for the good part," the man said, as his eyes lingered on the barrels for a few seconds. Only after a while could he tear himself away and look at Taki again. "Now, you stay here for a while, and make sure that the barrels don't get wet, and that no one shows up to ruin our fireworks. Who knows how far away these rubes are now, always so eager to ruin our scientific endeavors."

"Wait, alone?" Taki asked in shock. "What will I do if they show up with more than one man?"

"This master would suggest you improvise," the man said, as he began to fiddle around with the barrels, though Taki couldn't quite see what he was doing in the darkness.

"And what will you do in the meantime, master?" Taki tried again. He couldn't be left here all alone, could he?

"My job," the master replied as he raised a coil of twisted rope in his hand. One end of the rope had been divided into several thinner strands, which then led into the barrels. At the moment, Shulla took another loose end and fed it through the hole atop Taki's barrel as well.

"Now I'll be laying the lute to the outside. Once this blows up, it will consume all the oxygen in the tunnel, and the shock wave will spread a long distance, since the pressure has no easy path to escape. There's a chance that the whole tunnel system will collapse, so I'll have to lay this all the way to the outside. Before the lute's turned on, I'll send someone to bring you out, so don't worry."

Although Taki didn't quite understand, it seemed that this master would have to travel through the chaos of the tunnels. Maybe staying here until the work was done would temporarily be safer.

"Understood, master." Taki said. "I will do my duty."

Thus the scout saluted, and the master nodded his head as he walked back out of the tunnel, the slowly unrolling rope trailing behind him. Meanwhile, Taki nervously stood in front of the barrel and fiddled with the supplies around his waist. Apart from the short dagger he had brought along just in case, there really wasn't anything useful. He couldn't clobber an invader with his telescope or amber glasses, could he?

In the end, he just sat atop a barrel and stared at the empty corridor. From the sounds he could hear, the fighting was still a good bit away from him, which filled him with hope.

After all, he wouldn't have to hold out much longer and their victory would be guaranteed. All he had to do was protect these barrels that no one else knew about. Surely, this would not be a difficult task, would it?

Hermit's Notes: Tried to do something a bit unique with the sound effects at the start... but the formatting was a nightmare. Please tell me if it looks weird on your screen, I might have to change that.

Also, due to various reasons, I've made relatively little progress over the weekend (partially due to lack of time, and partially due to laziness). So the promised map might come a bit later, maybe tomorrow. See ya then.