Watching Count Chiwick ride off with his two attendants, Grand Duke Fiesobrun finally spoke up. "Was it really alright to refuse their demands like that?"
Grand Duke Fiesobrun smiled and shook his head, making no effort to deny Lorist's words. "You see, I had Count Chiwick quartered in your camp and hosted a banquet for him. When he saw the dishes prepared with magical beast meat, he was shocked — said it was far too lavish and he couldn't possibly accept. When I told him this was everyday fare that even the soldiers enjoyed, he didn't believe me. So I took him on a tour of the camp. When he saw the soldiers smoking meat jerky, he was speechless. After that, he desperately begged me to intercede with His Majesty on their behalf. I couldn't refuse, so I had you brought here."
"Obviously, their military supplies are running thin — they've probably already started rationing." Lorist understood perfectly well what the Grand Duke was implying. "So the four hundred thousand troops Count Chiwick mentioned might be real, but the claim that they have grain and supplies to last four or five years is definitely a lie. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so overwhelmed by the richness of our food. As for his claim of receiving substantial support from the Commercial Alliance, I suspect that's false too. Otherwise, they would never have proposed conditions and offered to seek peace."
"But the conditions they put forward are far too insincere. How could anyone expect the Second Prince to agree? The first condition — restoring the four central duchies to their pre-war status — amounts to demanding that the Second Prince withdraw from the eight provinces he's already conquered. That's completely impossible." Grand Duke Fiesobrun objected. "I believe their peace overture is merely a pretext. The most likely reason is that our massive buildup across the river has them worried. If we really are constructing roads across the Demon Plains toward Delamar Province, that strikes right at their defensive weak point. Even with strong backing from the Commercial Alliance, defending the stretches of the Nerabaruk River running through Delamar Province would require an enormous garrison. That's why they sent someone to probe our strength."
"Perhaps." Lorist mused. "I think the four central Grand Dukes may have assumed we're in the same boat as them. If their military supplies are running short, they'd naturally guess we're facing the same predicament. Although our forces are a hundred thousand fewer, our territories are far away and resupply is extremely difficult. They believe those three duchies and eight provinces are newly conquered lands that won't be of use to us for another two or three years. They don't know that His Majesty has already purged those eight provinces and brought them under effective control.
On top of that, you've been recruiting large numbers of craftsmen to build ships upstream on the Nerabaruk River, and I've been loudly proclaiming our plans to build roads across the Demon Plains. By any reasonable assessment, there's no way we could supply such massive quantities of provisions. The four central Grand Dukes most likely believe we're bluffing, which is why they specifically sent Count Chiwick to investigate. That explains why, upon discovering that our supplies were more than adequate, Count Chiwick immediately changed his tune and begged us to help them negotiate peace.
Unfortunately, the conditions the four central Grand Dukes proposed reflect their belief that we're in the same situation — both facing shortages of military supplies and logistics. They've cast themselves as our equals at the negotiating table. Those conditions are nothing more than a ladder for His Majesty when he's stuck atop a tiger — a way for him to climb down gracefully. Besides, those conditions are simply an outrageous opening bid. If we actually sit down to negotiate, we can haggle right there. They were just testing whether we truly want peace talks. So I turned them down..."
Grand Duke Fiesobrun nodded. "Your reasoning is quite sound, but I think stringing them along would serve us better. We can negotiate while continuing to fight, and through their envoys, we can gather intelligence on whether the Handera Duchy can hold out any longer..."
"There's no need for that." Lorist flatly rejected Grand Duke Fiesobrun's suggestion. "Since Count Chiwick has already discovered that our logistical and military supplies are more plentiful than theirs, and we've firmly refused their request to help them sue for peace with His Majesty, once Count Chiwick reports back, the four central Grand Dukes will find themselves in a dilemma— Continuing to assemble new legions to defend the riverine regions will only stretch their military supplies even thinner, while not doing so risks us actually crossing the river and marching into the heart of Delamar Province. And my firm refusal of Count Chiwick's request for us to help them sue for peace with His Majesty will make them understand His Majesty's resolve to destroy the four central duchies. So the next time they send envoys, their terms will be much more generous, and their attitude far more humble."
Grand Duke Fiesobrun was taken aback. "You think they'll send envoys again to sue for peace?"
Lorist nodded. "They should. They have no other choice. While they still have something to bargain with, they should negotiate with His Majesty. Otherwise, all that's left if they persist are two paths — destruction or exile. If they're sensible, we can put in a good word for them. After all, we don't have the time to stay here for years locked in a stalemate."
"What? Didn't you just say their military supplies were insufficient? Based on that assessment, they shouldn't be able to hold out much longer," said Grand Duke Fiesobrun.
No, the four central Grand Dukes possess far more wealth than we imagined. Didn't you hear Count Chiwick say they're willing to offer His Majesty a tribute of two million gold fordes? And that if we help them, each of us could receive a gratuity of five hundred thousand gold fordes.
I estimate these three million gold fordes represent only a third or a quarter of their total wealth, otherwise they wouldn't have made such an offer. If they choose exile, that wealth would be enough to live lavishly in the Commercial Alliance for several lifetimes. Likewise, if they choose to fight to the bitter end, those three million could buy enough food, fodder, and military supplies from the Commercial Alliance for their four hundred thousand troops to hold out for another year or two...
For His Majesty, destroying the four central duchies is all that matters — whether it takes two or three more years makes no difference. The provinces he now governs, the five provinces of the Follundo and Fakel duchies, have already been purged of the territorial lords who followed those two Grand Dukes, and effective administrative management has been established. The three provinces of the Sabaji Duchy are also recovering, and everything is back on track. So no matter how long it takes, His Majesty doesn't care. But do we really want to stay here for another two or three years?"
Grand Duke Fiesobrun was speechless. Lorist words carried a deep sense of reluctance. He had promised His Highness the Second Prince to help him conquer the four central duchies — spending about a year was one thing, but two or three years compared to the post-war rewards His Highness had promised would be a terrible deal. Keeping one's word was a virtue among nobles, and Lorist couldn't very well slip away halfway.
With three duchies already gone and only the Handera Duchy stubbornly holding on, Lorist was absolutely unwilling to waste these years on campaigning. Returning to his family's territory as soon as possible was far better than staying here. If he could get the four central Grand Dukes to surrender to His Highness the Second Prince, giving everyone a graceful way out, that would be the best outcome of all.
"By the way, when is Sylvia's due date?" Grand Duke Fiesobrun changed the subject.
"It should be around January of the New Year," Lorist replied.
"And when are you heading back?" the Grand Duke asked.
"December," Lorist said through gritted teeth. "Before I leave, I'm going to seize one of their defensive positions. That'll apply some more pressure on those four old bastards and force them to send emissaries sooner to negotiate their surrender with His Majesty. Otherwise, I won't be so polite..."
To be honest, Lorist hadn't really unleashed the full fighting power of his family's forces in this campaign for His Highness the Second Prince. Instead, he'd focused on minimizing casualties while grabbing a few small advantages here and there. Mainly because he felt it was a poor deal to sacrifice his family's military strength for His Highness's goal of unifying the Empire. Everyone should just go through the motions. Look at this old fox, Grand Duke Fiesobrun—anything risky, he sent his reserve corps to handle. The steppe nomad cavalry could be replaced no matter how many died, and his Third Border Patrol Corps had been sitting back watching the show the whole time.
"But... but isn't December winter? With heavy snowfall and bone-chilling cold, how can you possibly attack and seize a defensive position?"
Lorist rolled his eyes. "Enough with the act, old man. Wasn't it your Third Border Patrol Corps that we forced to surrender during winter? Let me tell you, winter or not, it makes no difference to the
Grand Duke Fiesobrun gave an awkward laugh. "Alright, I look forward to seeing it then. But aren't you worried about missing your return trip? It's Sylvia's first time giving birth. I'm concerned she might be in danger if you're not by her side."
"Don't worry. I've already written to tell her I'll make it back before the birth. As long as a few heavy snows fall and we use snow sledges, we can get back in three or four days at most. That's five or six days faster than riding day and night."
"Um... could I... could I perhaps go back with you then? I know Sylvia has misunderstood me, but she is my granddaughter after all. I'd like to see her first child..." Grand Duke Fiesobrun bowed his head, making the request with some embarrassment.
Lothar blinked, then found it somewhat amusing. "Fine, if you want to go, then go. We can head back together when the time comes."
Grand Duke Fiesobrun was overjoyed. "Th-then thank you, Your Grace the Grand Duke."
Lothar looked at him and sighed. "In private, you can just call me Lothar. You're Sylvia's grandfather, you're my elder—there's no need to be so formal with my title..."
"Very well, then. Thank you, Lothar." Grand Duke Fiesobrun readily accepted.
"You're welcome. Oh, right—this is our haul from the Demon Plain. Per the agreement, you're entitled to a third." Lothar suddenly remembered something, fished out a small leather pouch from beside him, and tossed it over.
"What's this?" Grand Duke Fiesobrun opened the pouch and poured out a dozen or so small, oval-shaped pebbles—smooth as jade, glowing with a soft white luminescence.
Grand Duke Fiesobrun was stunned. "Moonstones?"
These were a famous gemstone on the Galentea Continent. Some scholars believed they were more accurately classified as fluorescent stones—a variant of jade. The theory held that jade deposits left on streambeds were polished by flowing water into smooth pebble shapes, then bathed in moonlight for hundreds, even thousands of years. Over that time, the silver moonlight gradually made the jade translucent and crystalline. Every night, when bathed in the silver glow of the moon, these stones would radiate a white luminescence, brilliant as stars.
Reflecting the candlelight while emitting their own white glow, they could illuminate an entire palace as bright as daylight. It was for this reason that the palace had been named the Palace of the Bright Moon.
The value of moonstones varied enormously depending on the brightness of their white luminescence. The finest specimens could fetch anywhere from one thousand to ten thousand gold fudds, while even the cheapest were worth a dozen or so gold coins. The ones commonly found on the market were valued between one hundred and one thousand. Every single moonstone in the small pouch Lothar had tossed to Grand Duke Fiesobrun—some ten or so in total—was of superior quality, each worth well over a thousand gold fudds.
"Where did these come from?" Grand Duke Fiesobrun asked, turning a moonstone over in his fingers.
Lothar gestured with his head toward the Demon Plains. "Your barbarian cavalry were lucky. They were chasing a herd of horned demon antelopes over there and stumbled upon a large streambed. It was unremarkable during the day, but come nightfall, the entire streambed blazed with silver light. They thought a miracle had occurred and dismounted to kowtow in reverence.
Once I received their report, I knew they had found a moonstone deposit. We've since collected nearly a thousand moonstones, which should be valued at around six to seven hundred thousand gold fudds. Don't worry, one-third is yours. Since we signed the cooperation agreement, I intend to honor it—you needn't fear I'll keep everything. These are the finest batch of moonstones, and I've divided them into three equal shares for you as well. As for the barbarian cavalry who discovered the streambed, I've already rewarded them on your behalf—five gold fudds each."
Grand Duke Fiesobrun was speechless. It all came down to knowledge and perspective. The barbarian cavalry found a moonstone streambed and, thinking it a divine sign, dared not disturb it, instead prostrating themselves. Meanwhile, Lothar, upon hearing the report, immediately recognized it as a treasure trove, collected nearly a thousand moonstones, and made a fortune. No wonder the fellow was content hunting in the Demon Plains and had no desire to return.
After a moment's thought, Grand Duke Fiesobrun placed the moonstone back into the small pouch and handed it to Lothar. "You keep them. Once Cyllivia gives birth, you can use these moonstones to decorate her rooms. That way, you won't need so many open flames at night, reducing the risk of fire..."
Lothar accepted it without ceremony, tucking the pouch away. "Fine, I'll accept your kindness then."
...
December 21st, Year 1782 of the Galentea Continent's Common Calendar. Under the cover of a heavy snowfall, the Norton Family's elite Winged Tiger Legion launched a surprise assault on the Weilongni Pass defensive position. In one stroke, they routed the defending Handela Duchy's Red Dragon Legion. The Red Dragon Legion suffered over half its casualties; the remnants retreated to the second defensive line and narrowly escaped destruction. Only then did they realize that of the soldiers who made it back, fewer than three or four out of ten survived. An urgent plea for reinforcements was sent to the rear.
Simultaneously, with the Weilongni Pass captured, the defensive positions on both flanks faced the threat of a surprise attack. The Folundo Duchy's First Garrison Legion and the Fakel Duchy's Green Forest Legion were forced to abandon their positions and withdraw. Countless soldiers froze to death or were injured during the retreat. The Green Forest Legion, acting on Grand Duke Fakel's orders for a scorched-earth policy, plundered and burned over a dozen towns and villages along their path, causing the deaths of over thirty thousand commoners from the Handela Duchy. This act sowed the seeds of the coming conflict between Grand Duke Handela and Grand Duke Fakel...
...