In ancient times, the people of Galentea would huddle in their homes to celebrate the New Year's arrival. Outside, the cold winds howled and heavy snow danced through the air — the height of hibernation season. People simply celebrated at home, eating and sleeping, sleeping and eating, doing nothing at all, which was how the holiday came to be called the Day of Rest. However, nowadays with the widespread availability of cold-resistant and frost-proof clothing, people have taken to going out and enjoying the streets, and some shops have in turn launched New Year's sales, adding even more to the festive atmosphere.
Fatty awaited Lorist's arrival at the dock with a heavy heart. Although Lorist had written him a letter, its contents were vague and unclear. Jorsk and El had come and gone in a hurry, only telling him that the family was in serious trouble, which had left Fatty unable to eat or sleep properly for days on end. He was so anxious that dark circles had formed under his eyes.
However, upon actually meeting Lorist, Fatty didn't grab him and demand to know what had happened. Instead, he first shared a piece of good news: a letter from the Northland reported that
This was indeed good news. Lorist turned to look at El, who shrugged. "I'd guess next year. I have a feeling."
Lorist then looked at Fatty, who gave a bitter smile. "I'll probably need another two or three years. I don't even have enough time to handle administrative affairs, let alone calm my mind for cultivation. I've been stuck at this bottleneck for over a year now..."
Terman, Yuri, El, and Fatty had all been close friends Lorist made during his ten years of study at
El cultivated the dark-attribute combat force passed down through his family line, which was originally a type of combat energy difficult to master and slow to progress. Although El didn't appear particularly remarkable serving as the commander of Lorist's bodyguard detail, Lorist believed that once El advanced to become a
Fatty was the most naturally talented cultivator among the four, but unfortunately Lorist had entrusted him with heavy responsibilities. His outstanding administrative abilities had come at the cost of slowing his progress in combat force cultivation — something for which Lorist felt the most guilty.
Lorist gave Fatty a tight hug. "Sorry, old friend. I've burdened you with too much. In a while, you'll come back to the Northland with me. Settle down in the family's territory for a couple of years, cultivate properly, and advance as soon as you can. You'll have a knightly manor castle just like Terman and the others."
Fatty was stunned. "What's wrong, Locke? We agreed I was in charge of all development on Hilowas Island."
Lorist smiled bitterly. "Sorry. We've landed ourselves in big trouble. Hilowas Island will soon become a battlefield. Our enemies this time are formidable. I can't leave you here — it's far too dangerous. You must return to the family's territory. We can talk more when we get back to camp. This isn't the place to discuss it..."
Sembawood walked over and saluted Lorist, reporting, "My Lord, all ships have formed up and dropped anchor. The crews and sailors are assembled and ready. Please give your orders."
Fatty looked at him with curiosity. "My Lord, this is...?"
"Oh, come, Sembawood, let me introduce you. This is Shrade, the Norton Family's Chief Knight. If I'm not present, he can make decisions in my place." Lorist introduced them to each other. "This is Sembawood, a Gold-rank pirate. Quite rare, isn't he? But now he serves as my maritime assault captain. He's done quite well these past months; I was just thinking of promoting him to Faraya's deputy."
Sembawood looked somewhat exasperated and wrong-faced. "My Lord, please don't mention pirates. I'm your subordinate now. If I'm a pirate, then that makes you the pirate captain..."
Never mind the maritime assault captain — Sembawood had initially thought he was the number one cannon fodder. But during the raiding, oh, sorry, the requisitioning of ships in the Sad Sea, he discovered Lorist charged in even faster than he did, often single-handedly capturing a ship. Thus, his role as assault captain morphed into that of a cleanup crew and fleet steward, handling the aftermath for Lorist. He organized the fleet, gathered the prisoners, and arranged the crews. And yet, Lorist still thought he did a fine job and praised him for it.
Fatty nodded at him. "Hello, Sembawood. Don't take his words to heart. My Lord just likes to joke. Since you've joined the Norton Family, work hard and you'll have a bright future."
At the same time, Fatty made a silent resolution: he had to cultivate diligently and reach the Gold rank as soon as possible. Seeing that his old friends had all become Gold Knights, and that the people My Lord was recruiting from outside were all Gold-ranks now, he, the family's Chief Knight, being merely at the peak of three-star Silver truly felt a bit too embarrassing to face anyone.
"Fareya, get over here! This is Sembawood — he'll be your deputy from now on," Lorist shouted at Fareya, who had come to greet him but instead wandered off to inspect a massive ocean-going merchant vessel.
Fareya climbed down from the ship and walked over. "Hello, I'm Fareya, commander of the Marine Battalion."
"And this is Uncle Torlin, Tok's father. He's good at managing logistics and supplies. With so many ships, he helped Sembawood keep everything running in perfect order. Now he falls under your Marine Battalion's command as well..."
Fatty asked from the side, "My Lord, were all these ships requisitioned by you?"
Lorist nodded. Everyone knew exactly what "requisitioned" meant.
Fatty asked hesitantly, "My Lord, why did you do this?"
Fatty knew Lorist's character well. After years of friendship, he'd heard Lorist say that highway robbery was the crudest and most despicable form of crime — that he despised nothing more than bullying the weak with superior force. Now Lorist had gone and requisitioned an enormous fleet of ships on the open sea; there had to be extenuating circumstances. Recalling Lorist's mention of big trouble and Hilovas Island about to become a battlefield, Fatty wanted to know the truth even more.
"Let's talk when we get back. You'll find out soon enough..." Lorist sighed.
Back at camp, Fatty quickly learned the reason. His face flushed with rage, he slammed his fist on the table and leaped to his feet. "This is outrageous! The Commercial League has the Baronet system — on what grounds can they designate our Hilovas Island as territory of the Chickde Trading Company?!"
Unlike Pat, Norris,
Lorist had gone mad, sweeping every ship on the Sorrow Sea clean — and his real intention was to assemble armed fleets and challenge the Chickde Trading Company on the open ocean. The truth made their hearts pound with fear, yet at the same time sent an electrifying thrill through them. When had it ever been possible for pirates like them — who lived in hiding, snatched what they could, and ran — to face the fleets of the Commercial League head-on? Just thinking about it was enough to make their blood boil.
The Chickde Trading Company was the undisputed overlord of the southern seas. Going up against such a behemoth — could there really be any hope of victory?
"Don't worry about it," Lorist said with a wave of his hand. "I'm planning to bring the Bodfanger Heavy Armored Corps over from the Northland, and I'll also form a Chariot and Steel Crossbow Corps. With those two corps defending the island, our position will be as solid as a fortress. The Chickde Trading Company may rule the waves, but the moment they set foot on land, they're nothing but soft-shelled crabs. If they want to occupy Hilovas Island, they have to come ashore — and every soldier they land, we'll wipe out. Let's see how many men, how many resources, and how much money they can afford to throw onto our shores."
"My Lord, then what will be the mission of our Marine Battalion?" Pharea asked.
"Your Marine Battalion is hereby renamed the Naval Corps, and Pharea, you will serve as its commander." Lorist had originally wanted to use the title "Navy," but figured there was no such custom in Galentea, so he settled on the more easily understood name "Naval Corps."
"The Marine Battalion training camp at Bullhorn Bay in the Northland will serve as your Naval Corps' reserve training facility. This time, I've requisitioned a large batch of ships, and I want Sembawood to help you organize them into two armed fleets. One fleet will consist entirely of fast sailing vessels, responsible for patrol, surveillance, and guerrilla warfare at sea. The other fleet will use slower ships for transporting supplies and personnel and for conducting frontal engagements. Understood?"
"Yes, my Lord. Understood," Pharea replied.
"One thing I want to remind you — I've requisitioned a great many ships this time, and I've conscripted the crews along with them. Sembawood has detailed rosters. The crews of the two armed fleets will be composed mainly of our own marines and the pirate members who defected with Sembawood — their families are settled in our territory, so they're the most reliable. The personnel who were conscripted along with the ships need to be vetted and used carefully. At sea, if something goes wrong, it's very difficult to bring the situation under control immediately. Of course, if any of them prove themselves in battle, they should be treated equally — no discrimination..."
"Yes, my Lord. I'll carry out your orders exactly," Pharea assured him.
After sending Pharea off, Fatty said, "My Lord, you mentioned bringing the Bodfanger Heavy Armored Corps over, and that's one thing, but if you also form a Chariot and Steel Crossbow Corps to send here, Hilovas Island won't be able to support them…"
"Hmm?"
"My Lord, Hilovas Island is big, but two-thirds of it is mountainous and forested. Only the eastern part here has flat terrain, making it the main farming and settlement area. If a Chariot and Steel Crossbow Corps were to come here, all those warhorses — feeding both men and horses — we simply couldn't afford it. And we only recently recruited fifty to sixty thousand refugees from the kingdom's two southwestern provinces, preparing for a major development push. The grain we purchased from His Highness the
"Oh, so that's how it is." Lorist's head ached. He'd forgotten that Hilovas Island couldn't sustain itself in grain. Moving troops over would be easy, but scrounging up enough food was the real problem.
The Bodfanger Heavy Armored Corps excelled at close-quarters combat and melee fighting. Although their armor looked identical in style to the family's standard-issue equipment, inside — just like Termon's knight order — they wore an extra layer of steel chainmail. It added weight but provided far stronger defense. However, they needed to coordinate with chariots and steel crossbows to achieve maximum effectiveness — one on offense, one on defense, complementing each other perfectly.
But the chariots and steel crossbows each needed two warhorses to move quickly and be conveniently positioned on the battlefield. Without warhorses, nobody could carry the steel crossbows and keep up with the marching column. Battlefield deployment also became far more troublesome — unlike when mounted on a chariot, where they could be ready to fire at any moment. This was truly a major problem.
The gunpowder research, the glass production that Master Mancini was responsible for — all of it needed to be inspected. And then there was Lorist's vision for cannons and muskets. With gunpowder in hand, once he had cannons and equipped them on warships, the so-called mighty armed fleet of the Chikde Trading Company would become nothing but targets. Then they'd see who the real master of the seas was...
The problem was that Lorist couldn't leave. He knew full well that the Norton Family's weakness was the lack of high-end combat power. If it came to the family's armed forces, Lorist considered himself second to none — no one could claim to be first. Whether in the caliber of soldiers or the quality of equipment, the Norton Family's forces had already surpassed their contemporaries by a considerable margin. He didn't even give the Second Prince's three-hundred-thousand-strong army a second glance.
But within the family, besides Lorist himself, there wasn't a single Great Swordmaster. It was only after visiting
He could throw waves of soldiers at a Great Swordmaster to overwhelm him, but at what cost in loyal family soldiers? The bloody wound that Great Swordmaster Galinan had dealt the Norton Family was still dripping blood. So Lorist had no intention of leaving Hilovas Island during this period — he intended to wait for the Chikde Trading Company's attack.
In Lorist's mind, the Chikde Trading Company had already lost one Great Swordmaster. If three or four more came, he could handle them without issue. After taking out another one or two, the family's forces could completely annihilate whatever enemies made it onto the island. Only after that lesson would the Chikde Trading Company understand that seizing Hilovas Island was nothing but wishful thinking. Then Lorist could return to the Northland with peace of mind.
"Then how about this, Fareya — organize two fleets as quickly as possible. Have the fast fleet handle patrols and watch duties around Hilovas Island, and once the armed fleet is assembled, have it focus entirely on transporting grain from the Northland. We need to stockpile at least a year's worth of supplies." Lorist made his decision.
"My Lord, what about the refugees we've recruited? Are we to halt the development work we'd planned?" Steward Hansk rose to his feet. He oversaw all the statistics and scheduling for the family's territorial development and construction projects, and he was clutching a thick stack of animal-hide documents — clearly matters that needed reporting.
Lorist nearly lost his mind. He sighed inwardly — why was it that every other transmigrator got to live it up in comfort, picking up women and making money, and when war came all they had to do was wave a hand and hundreds of thousands of soldiers would march onto the battlefield? Here he was, unable to even feed two legions, let alone deal with all these other matters, stuck in meetings that lasted all day long.
He rubbed his temples. "Keep it brief, Steward Hansk. Tell me first — what development plans have been arranged?"
Steward Hansk flipped through his documents. "My Lord, the main projects are the full relocation of Whitebird Town, expansion of the dock district, construction of the commercial district and the fortifications like Whitebird Town's walls, a seawall on the eastern side of the island, planning and rebuilding of seven villages along with terrace farming development, and the renovation of Oceanview Manor which is nearing completion. The naval camp and its dedicated dock have had their locations confirmed, but the site for the Guards Battalion's fortress castle still hasn't been decided — mainly because of resistance from the residents of Whitebird Town..."
"Hmm? What's this about?"
"My Lord, the residents of Whitebird Town think that with the five-hundred-strong defense garrison already in place, there's no need for a Guards Battalion. They believe the garrison is fully capable of handling Whitebird Town's security. We originally planned to build the Guards Battalion's fortress castle between Whitebird Town and the commercial district's dock area..." It was Pat, commander of the Third Guards Battalion, who stood to respond.
"Then where is the planned site for the naval camp and fleet dock?" Lorist asked.
"Right here." Steward Hansk spread open a map of Hilovas Island. "Along this Sailfish Ridge between Whitebird Town and Oceanview Manor. There's a small cove there that's perfect for sheltering from wind and waves, but we'd need to invest a large amount of manpower to level the terrain..."
Lorist nodded. "Then here's what we'll do — station the Third Guards Battalion at the former Farama Village and reinforce it. That way, the Guards Battalion, the Naval Corps, and the two bodyguard companies at Oceanview Manor will form a three-pronged defensive formation. Even before the family sends over any legions, those soft-shelled crabs from the Chikde Trading Company won't be able to break through our lines."
"As for Whitebird Town, let's set it aside for now and just have the garrison maintain order. But do inform them as well — war between our Norton Family and the Chikde Trading Company over Hilovas Island is imminent. Those who wish to leave can be sent to the Northland. The garrison may remain neutral, after all the Chikde Trading Company intends to claim this as its territory and probably won't harm ordinary residents..."
Just as he finished speaking, Ale, who was on guard duty, pushed open the door with a white letter in hand. "My lord, a messenger from the Second Prince arrived just now. Five days ago, King Andinak I passed away due to illness..."
The Third Prince was dead? That Andinak Kingdom's founder, the former legitimate heir of the Krisen Empire's royal lineage who had lingered on his sickbed for years after an assassination attempt — King Andinak I had finally departed this world. The Second Prince had finally lost the only shackle binding him and could now command his three-hundred-thousand-strong army to launch the war to restore the Krisen Empire.
Lorist took the letter of mourning from Ale's hand, murmuring, "The heavens are about to change..."
...(To be continued.)