Eastern Wasteland Province, the great hall of Tiger Perch Castle.
Young Celia knelt on one knee, sobbing uncontrollably. In the coffin before her lay the body of the Third Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps Commander, Galini Bloupot. After enduring untold hardships and stumbling across the thawing steppes of ice and snow, they had finally made it back to Tiger Perch Castle. The unbearable grief and the shame of having surrendered the entire army to the enemy left Celia feeling she had no face to meet her family or His Highness the Grand Duke of Fisablen.
The Fisablen Grand Duke did not fly into a rage, nor did he explode with fury. He simply circled the coffin, step by step, before letting out a long sigh. He reached out and stroked Bloupot's stiff, ice-cold face, murmuring to himself: "It was I who brought you to this, old friend. If I had made the decisive choice to withdraw our forces back to the family's territory, you wouldn't have died. I only have myself to blame for my greed—knowing full well the situation was unfavorable, I still hoped to use the advantageous terrain of Bobiliqi Mountain as leverage for future negotiations with the Northern Alliance. I never imagined I'd end up losing you and the entire Third Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps..."
A trace of defeat finally appeared on the Grand Duke's face. Nothing ever went his way. Ever since he had left Bobiliqi Mountain and returned to the family's territory, he had been busy uniting the various barbarian tribes of the northeastern steppe to join forces, while simultaneously rushing to Muye Plain Province to reorganize the Fourth Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps, which had been battered nearly to destruction. He then ambushed the
At the time, the Fisablen Grand Duke had believed he could turn the tide and reverse his family's dire situation. He hadn't expected to actually win the war against the Northern Alliance—he had merely hoped to shatter their plans to conquer the Iblia Kingdom. His thinking was like that of a petulant child: if I can't have it, neither can you. Luring the steppe barbarians to pillage Winston Province was meant to cause trouble for the Northern Alliance, to make the situation as chaotic as possible so that no one could come out ahead. Only in this way could the Fisablen Family ensure the Northern Alliance wouldn't look down on them or push them to total destruction.
But he never expected that the army of over a hundred thousand barbarian cavalry would prove so anticlimactic. After suffering twenty to thirty thousand casualties in the assault on Pidro City—defended by only three thousand troops—their morale plummeted and they lost all will to fight. Seeing the garrison reinforced and the defenses solid as iron, the great barbarian army went through the motions for about ten days before the tribal chiefs began discussing a withdrawal to spend the winter at home.
At that moment, the Fisablen Grand Duke was so frustrated he could barely contain himself. He decided to go all in and execute his second plan: uniting all the barbarian tribes that had submitted to the Fisablen Family, he launched a surprise attack on the most powerful Kelinubi tribe on the night before the general withdrawal. Taking them completely off guard, the mighty Kelinubi tribe was annihilated in a single night. The Fisablen Grand Duke then led the submissive tribes back in high spirits to divide the Kelinubi's spoils among themselves.
The situation was now clear. Since the Fisablen Family had been suppressed by the Northern Alliance and confined to their own territory, unable to leave the northeastern steppe, it was better to first deal with the powerful barbarian tribes on the grasslands—lest they become a nuisance after the family's strength had waned. Incidentally, he could also bleed these powerful tribes to compensate for the family's losses. After all, the ones doing the attacking were the submissive barbarian tribes—give them a bigger share of the spoils, throw them a bone, and let the dogs fight among themselves. The family lost nothing, so why not?
This was what the Fisablen Grand Duke had been busy with at the end of last year. After stabilizing the internal situation, he would then find a way to deal with the Northern Alliance. The great steppe was vast and boundless, and the Grand Duke was confident the Northern Alliance wouldn't easily venture into his family's territory. Any future confrontation would take place in Muye Plain Province. Along the borders of Southern Province and Eastern Wasteland Province, the Northern Alliance's family forces were hard at work constructing defensive facilities, digging trenches and severing transportation routes. The Grand Duke concluded that the Northern Alliance was pursuing a strategy of defending in the south while attacking in the east—gradually squeezing the Fisablen Family's territory and room to survive...
And so, Bobiliqi Mountain in Southern Province had become the only strategic stronghold where the Fisablen Family held an advantage. It was both offensive and defensive, and from there they could dispatch troops to throw Southern Province into chaos. To defend against the Third Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps on Bobiliqi Mountain, the enemy would need to station several times as many elite troops. As long as the conflict dragged on, no member of the Northern Alliance could sustain such enormous war expenditures. Only then would the Fisablen Grand Duke take his seat at the negotiating table and secure some dignified terms to end this losing war for his family.
But he never imagined that the Norton Family's forces would actually move in winter. Taking a tremendous risk, they detoured through Eastern Wasteland Province, attacked from the rear, and seized Bobiliqi Mountain, forcing the Third Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps to lay down their arms and surrender—a devastating blow to the Fisablen Family. The Fisablen Grand Duke did not blame Corps Commander Bloupot, who had already taken his own life in atonement. He could imagine that, under those circumstances, no one could have held out. Surrendering was the only option—anything else would have been a pointless slaughter.
"You shouldn't have killed yourself, old friend..." The Fisablen Grand Duke sighed deeply once more, giving Commander Bloupot's cold face one final stroke before turning away from the coffin.
He sent for a report.
Celia roughly wiped the tears from her face with her cloak, stood up, and once again recounted her meeting with
After a long silence, the Fisablen Grand Duke waved his hand wearily. "Celia, you've had a long journey. Go freshen up and get some proper rest for a few days. I've noted your contributions. You're still young—you're the hope of our family's future. Train hard, and remember the trials and tribulations of this experience. The family's future still depends on the efforts of your generation..."
"Yes, I will train hard and serve the family with all my might." Celia bowed to the Grand Duke in gratitude before withdrawing.
Tap, tap, tap... The Fisablen Grand Duke sat in his study, gently tapping the desk with the middle finger of his left hand, lost in thought, a bitter smile playing on his lips. From Celia's account of her meeting with Lorist, it was clear that Lorist had been conveying a very specific message: the Fisablen Family's downfall was inevitable, and now it only remained to see whether the Grand Duke was smart enough to admit defeat. If he obediently flattered the Norton Family, there might still be a way out. Otherwise, he shouldn't blame Lorist for tearing off the pretense and beating a drowning dog until nothing was left.
"Hmph! This cunning, treacherous, ruthless, stop-at-nothing brat—you can forget about making me submit! Don't even think about bullying the Fisablen Family!" The Fisablen Grand Duke let out a heavy snort, rage filling his chest. He threw Lorist's own description right back at him—though neither had heard the other's insults, in this moment they were of one mind. The only difference was that the old man had been changed to "brat." Both regarded the other as their greatest rival in life.
But anger was useless. The Fisablen Grand Duke understood all too well that his family was now strong on the outside but hollow within. The surrender of the Third Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps was an even greater blow than the annihilation of the First Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps. The First could still be spun as the result of a treacherous ambush by the Northern Alliance, with the soldiers fighting bravely to the last man—their annihilation excusable, since the Northern Alliance had launched an undeclared war, catching the Fisablen Family completely off guard.
But the Third Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps had been forced to surrender in its entirety, and the family would have to spend money and send envoys to ransom the captured Family Knights and clansmen. The Fisablen Grand Duke fully believed Celia's account: it was his own relative, his cousin Wollio, whose dereliction of duty had led to the entire corps's downfall. But being angry about it now accomplished nothing. Putting relatives in charge of logistics for each corps had been the decision of the family elders—they believed only this way could the corps be kept under control and their loyalty to the Fisablen Family ensured.
Not every member of the Fisablen Family was devoted to serving it wholeheartedly. His second daughter, the Queen of the Iblia Kingdom, was bent on opposing him at every turn. Just thinking about that daughter, who had returned to the family's territory, gave the Grand Duke a splitting headache. Instead of being a proper queen, she had inexplicably set up a brothel, making him lose every last shred of face. Now she had drifted off to Greater and Lesser Jinchuan, convinced that the gold mines there would bring in a fortune...
The Fisablen Grand Duke sat in his study for a long time, contemplating how to break the deadlock. In the coming days, the Fisablen Family would likely have to endure humiliation and swallow their pride, biding their time in their own territory through a bitter stretch. The Northern Alliance had already cut off all external communications and transportation routes from the family's territory. Currently, the family only had the Second Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps stationed in the Greater and Lesser Jinchuan region, the Fourth Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps defending Muye Plain Province—the two corps together numbering nearly a hundred thousand—plus the twenty-thousand-strong Ironclad Garrison Corps holding Tiger Perch Castle and the Grand Duke's own bodyguard of over a thousand men...
Though the Fisablen Family still possessed a hundred and twenty thousand in family forces, defending three vast provinces stretched those numbers thin. Fortunately, during the late-year campaign against the barbarian tribes that posed a threat to the family, the Grand Duke had selected nearly twenty thousand barbarian cavalry from among the submissive tribes, preparing to form a new reserve corps as a trump card for suppressing the steppe. Even if the barbarian tribes launched a joint invasion, the family would still have the power to fight back. However, these hundred-odd thousand troops were enough to deal with the steppe barbarians but far from sufficient to attack the Northern Alliance's defensive lines.
Enough for defense, not enough for offense—that was the Fisablen Family's current reality. Moreover, the Second Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps, guarding the Greater and Lesser Jinchuan region, absolutely could not be moved. The gold mines of Greater and Lesser Jinchuan were the guarantee of the Fisablen Family's rise. Many of the family elders had suggested relocating the family's center to Jinchuan Province, but the Grand Duke had rejected the proposal, worrying that moving so far from the former empire's heartland would marginalize the family.
"Go fetch Silvia for me," the Fisablen Grand Duke ordered the attendant outside his study.
It could be said that the person most hurt by Lorist's war against the Fisablen Family was Princess Silvia. She had been so eager to marry Lorist that, when the Grand Duke refused, she had even staged a hunger strike. But poor Silvia never imagined that her beloved would launch an undeclared war against her family, leading the Northern Alliance's forces to sweep through the Iblia Kingdom, driving her grandfather the Grand Duke into a humiliating retreat back to the family's territory with devastating losses.
The defeat was catastrophic—an army of a hundred thousand destroyed in a single battle. And now she was supposed to marry into the Norton Family, only for the Norton forces to steamroll the Iblia Kingdom...
When news arrived that the Four Central Duchies had sent reinforcements to join forces with the Grand Duke, her curses turned to schadenfreude. Everyone believed the Northern Alliance would soon be defeated. Some even told Princess Silvia that the Norton brat would soon be captured by the Grand Duke and made into a herding slave for the Fisablen Family—then she wouldn't have to marry so far away and could see her beloved every day in her own family's territory...
But soon, news of the coalition's crushing defeat reached the family's territory—a slap in the face if ever there was one. And so the mockery and schadenfreude turned back to curses. Princess Silvia bore all the insults and blame from her clansmen, and she had grown noticeably thinner.
"Silvia, you've lost weight again. Are those people giving you a hard time?" the Fisablen Grand Duke asked, looking at her with paternal affection.
"No, Grandfather, it's nothing. I'm used to it."
"I'm sorry, Silvia. This has nothing to do with you. This war didn't happen because of you. Our Fisablen Family sought to rise and dominate the northeastern region of the former empire. Likewise, the Northern Alliance also sought to rise, which is why they clashed with us. It was an unavoidable competition—neither side could escape it." The Fisablen Grand Duke spoke with deep feeling.
Princess Silvia nodded silently. On one side was the man she loved; on the other, her family. Caught between the two, she had taken abuse from both ends until she was nearly numb.
"I want you to go to the Northern Alliance's Norton Family," the Fisablen Grand Duke said.
"What did you say?" Princess Silvia looked up in astonishment.
"There's no other way," the Fisablen Grand Duke said with a bitter smile. "Our family has lost the war. The outcome is set—there's no turning back. I want you to go to the Norton Family and negotiate properly with that brat. Tell him not to be so cruel, cutting so deeply into the Fisablen Family. After all, the Fisablen Family is the main military force keeping the steppe barbarians in check. Without us, the barbarian raiders would harass and invade the empire's borders without respite. Let that brat think about that."
The Fisablen Grand Duke sighed heavily. "Silvia, Grandfather deeply regrets refusing his proposal to you back then. Perhaps if I hadn't, this war might never have happened. But it's too late for regrets now. When you go to the North, there are three main objectives: first, to ransom the captured Family Knights and clansmen; second, to have the Snow Salt Trading Company resume supplying our territory with salt and daily necessities—the steppe has plenty of soda ash but no salt; the livestock can handle it, but people can't. I can only hope their blades won't be sharpened too fast. And lastly, try to convince that brat to allow us to ransom the soldiers of the Third Border Defense Mobile Cavalry Corps who surrendered. We need them to deal with and suppress the barbarian tribes on the steppe."
After a pause, the Fisablen Grand Duke added, his voice tinged with bitterness: "Silvia, go pack your things and luggage. Bring everything you can. This time... I'm giving you permission to stay there and not come back..."
"Grandfather, you..." Princess Silvia was stunned. Did that mean...
"That's settled. I'll prepare your escort and the negotiating party. You'll depart as soon as the rainy season ends." The Fisablen Grand Duke didn't look at Princess Silvia. He turned, waved his hand, and walked out of the study, disappearing beyond the doorway.
...(To be continued.)