Chapter Ninety-Five: Advancing Eastward

On the battlements of Dainar City, knights clad in heavy armor stood in strict readiness, while the able-bodied men within the city were swiftly mustered. Longbows, siege crossbows, spears, and iron lances—every face was grave, every posture that of men bracing for war.

To the Knights of Dainar, the vast host of strangely dressed laborers could only be heretics. They looked human enough, yet what sort of people came waddling toward Dainar in such numbers, all dressed alike? They bore no banner, and they were neither a knightly order nor a militia. Rather, they resembled refugees. Of late, many refugees had indeed been arriving at Dainar, but all had been driven onward to Princess Orina.

Yet on second thought, refugees would hardly be so oddly attired, nor would they carry themselves with such vigor. Could this be the legendary passage of spirits?

As the long, winding procession drew nearer and nearer, the silhouettes of huge steel monsters began to emerge at the edge of the horizon. Everyone tightened their grips on their weapons and unconsciously drew in their breath, visibly strung taut, ready to strike at any moment.

“My lord count, you have finally come!”

At that moment, the Count of Dainar climbed onto the wall, and the knights present felt as if their pillar of support had arrived, each of them letting out a breath.

The count looked toward the distant scene, then glanced at the crossbows that were already primed and glowing with spiritual light, and said, “Put the crossbows away. These are not enemies. They are men of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border.”

At those words, everyone looked bewildered.

Who was the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border?

In this society of extreme information asymmetry, very few people across the eastern lands actually knew that title. Aside from certain circles, everyone lived within their own closed little worlds, confining their horizons to a single domain, a single city.

When a new lord took office, the entire territory would once have held a grand feast of celebration, attended by nobles and commoners alike. On that day, everyone could eat free food, and the common folk might even drink water mixed with wine.

But the accession of a grand duke was like the founding of a duchy: no ceremony, no proclamation, everything carried on as usual. It was as though a nation had been founded—top leaders gathering together, each taking a drink, slapping a thigh, and deciding over drinks to establish a country. Nation founded.

Then the next day everyone went home to their own affairs, doing what they always did, not even issuing an announcement. No wonder most people had never heard of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border.

Even founding a village would not be handled so casually.

Not even the knights of Dainar, closest to the matter, knew that an Eastern Grand Duke had suddenly appeared next door. The people of the duchy knew nothing of this grand duke, and the entire world stood unique in its ignorance.

There were two main reasons for this bizarre situation. First, Dawn Law had simply never thought to publicize it, nor did he have the inclination, and the nobles would not have cooperated anyway.

Second, the nobles had failed to fulfill their duties; they had not announced their lord’s identity to their vassals, in effect refusing to acknowledge the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border.

The Count of Dainar saw the confusion in his knights’ faces, but offered no explanation, only repeating the order: “Put down the siege crossbows.”

If they went off by accident and started an attack, that would be troublesome.

“Yes, my lord.”

The crossbows, glowing with spiritual light, dimmed and the bolts that had been aimed forward drooped downward.

“My lord, should we go out of the city to greet them?” one knight asked.

Though no one knew when such a grand duke had suddenly emerged in the east, if the count himself said so, then surely this was an important person.

Yet the Count of Dainar unexpectedly shook his head.

A dozen minutes later, the people reached the city gate: tall, upright men in blue work clothes, brimming with energy and spirit. If the knights had not failed to sense any aura from them, they might have suspected these men were knights too, for how else could their vigor be so great?

A black-haired man, dressed in peculiar dark garments, stepped to the front and raised a strange device to his mouth.

“We are the First Construction Corps of Dawn Law. In the name of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border, open the gates. We are entering the city to rest and regroup.”

His voice rang out with remarkable force, clearly reaching everyone atop the gate, and even the militiamen assembled behind the gates heard it.

The intonation was a little odd, but the meaning was still clear enough.

The Count of Dainar drew breath and called back, “Due to suspected heretics hiding within Dainar City, no one may enter or leave at present. We are truly sorry, but please return.”

The knights around him looked stunned.

Heretics? Where?

Soon, some of them reacted: their lord simply did not want these people inside!

But why?

“Count of Dainar, by the laws of the Dawn Kingdom, a duke may command the lords beneath him, and the lords are obliged to obey. I repeat: open the gate at once. This is the order of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border!”

The black-haired man’s tone grew severe.

The count remained steadfast. “I am deeply sorry, but for the safety of the kingdom, and for the duty and honor of a noble, I absolutely cannot open the gate and let the heretics out of Dainar City. Otherwise, the consequences would be endless!”

With that, the Count of Dainar turned and left, not giving the other side the slightest chance to answer. He had made up his mind to keep them out.

The commander of the knight order followed beside him, his face full of concern. “My lord, is this truly wise? After all, they are men of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border.”

When the count had gone to the royal capital, he had not brought his knight order, only his steward. Thus, the knight whom the count trusted most had never heard of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border.

But that did not prevent him from guessing at the other man’s power from the title alone. A duke was not someone Dainar City could afford to provoke.

More than that, by openly slamming the door in their faces, would this not give them cause to start a war?

The Count of Dainar glanced at his knight commander and said, “What is there to question? All of this is for the safety of the kingdom.”

His knights, his knight commander, his own standing—none of these could now be trusted.

The count knew just how mad the things he was about to do would be: to make enemies of all the nobles. And knights were a kind of noble as well. He did not believe for a moment that these knights would truly remain loyal to him, even at the cost of their own interests and status.

Stand shoulder to shoulder with vile commoners?

Impossible. Those lowly commoners were only fit to kneel at their feet. By what right could they stand beside them?

His wife and children, his knights, even he himself—surely they all thought this way.

If they learned what he intended to do, someone would surely leak the news to the other nobles. His own sons and daughters might even poison him.

He might wake one morning to find himself reduced to a human stump.

Nobles were creatures of extreme selfishness, and the Count of Dainar, being one of them, knew their nature better than anyone.

They were enemies.

A trace of cold glimmered deep in the count’s azure eyes. He descended from the wall and looked upon the assembled militia.

“Everyone disperse.”

See that? I have trampled the face of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border into the ground. Go back and report it to your masters so they can enjoy themselves a little; otherwise, they may not be able to laugh later.

Having said this, the Count of Dainar turned back to his carriage and returned to the castle under the escort of his personal guard knights.

Outside Dainar City, the strange procession, seeing that the gates would not be opened no matter what, could only depart in anger.

This scene stirred a suspicion in the hearts of all the knights.

Leaving so soon—could this so-called Grand Duke of the Eastern Border be nothing more than an empty-title fool?

Otherwise, why would their lord have so brazenly humiliated him?

...

Back at the castle, the Count of Dainar returned to his study and flopped down onto the sofa.

He tilted his head back and let out a long sigh.

The steward took a bottle of red wine from the cabinet. From his understanding of the count, his lord needed a drink at a time like this.

The crimson liquid flowed into a crystal goblet—half a cup, no more and no less.

The count picked up the glass and, unlike his usual graceful manner, downed it in one bold gulp.

“Fill it.”

The steward immediately topped it up, and once again the Count of Dainar drained it in a single swallow.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and the gloom in his heart finally began to disperse.

“Steward, did you deliver the things I told you to send?”

“They have been delivered to the city of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border,” the steward replied respectfully. Then, a little cautiously, he asked, “My lord, what exactly did you send?”

The Count of Dainar grinned. “The map of Leiv City and the surrounding lands, including the garrison locations of the Leiv Knight Order.”

“Ah!” The steward was stunned, stepping back as he nearly lost his grip on the wine bottle.

If those were the things he had asked for, could it be that the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border was preparing for war?

...

A month later, while the nobles were still wallowing in wine, revelry, and extravagant indulgence, the dragon had already left Dainar’s domain.

The workers sang labor songs as they sweated.

As the broad dirt roads were completed, the follow-up transport convoys kept pace with the construction teams, supplies growing ever more abundant, and all manner of large construction machines rolled in after them.

With ample supplies, vast manpower, and unceasing day-and-night construction, a colossal machine called the state had finally begun to turn. Everyone became a single screw in that machine, pouring out all their passion to keep it running.

While the nobles still basked in afternoon tea, in balls, and in the languid pleasures of night, a madman of infrastructure was advancing toward them step by step, and they knew nothing of it.

In a small city, before a five-meter-high wall made of earth and stone, workers in blue stood facing the knights above.

“I repeat once more: open the gate at once. This is the order of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Border,” warned the officer in a black military uniform, his voice icy.

“Otherwise, we will take action by force.”

On the wall, a viscount in high heels sneered dismissively. “I don’t know anything about some Grand Duke of the Eastern Border. All I know is that the Count of Leiv has issued his orders: you commoners are forbidden to enter the city.”

The Grand Duke of the Eastern Border, my foot. In Leiv’s domain, the Count of Leiv’s word was what mattered most. And even if this Grand Duke of the Eastern Border were real, he had no authority over me.

The officer gave the noble atop the wall a long, deep look, then turned and led his men away.

“Hah. In the end, they’re just a bunch of commoners,” the noble said with a contemptuous laugh.

The next instant, his heart gave a violent thud, and his body seemed to plunge into an ice cavern.

Boom!

A deafening roar exploded beside his ears. The earthen wall shattered, huge clods of dirt and stone flying in all directions, and several knights were killed on the spot.

When the noble came to his senses, the wall more than ten meters to his right had already collapsed, the massive breach looking as if it had been smashed open by a dragon.

A thousand meters from the wall, a heavy transport truck sat quietly in place.

It was not carrying supplies, but a gigantic iron tube, from whose dark muzzle white smoke billowed.

A 203 howitzer, also known as the Great Merciful Bodhisattva of Deliverance.

One shell from it usually left no room for pain.

A standard tracked armored vehicle would require maintenance and would also increase the burden on the supply line. In a world without modern armies, using tanks and the like, those highly refined armored weapons, would obviously be wasteful.

A heavy truck carrying a howitzer was the best choice, requiring only simple upkeep for the gun and the transport of ammunition.

On the wall, silence had fallen. Every face was taut, and not a trace of color remained in them.

Their minds, however, had completely shut down; they could no longer comprehend what had just happened.

In the distance, the workers in blue began to retreat in orderly fashion, while a line of infantry fighting vehicles and fully armed soldiers advanced slowly toward the wall.

“Entire army, advance.”

With the command issued, the machine of violence sprang instantly into motion.

Perhaps the gentle attitude of Dawn Law had made them forget that Dawn Law was a nation forged in slaughter.

The soldiers’ eyes were cold, their killing intent severe, their very bodies seeming to become invisible machines.

An unseen smoke of war spread outward, and that lush green grassland, that thriving little city ringed by wheat fields, seemed in an instant to have become a blood-soaked battlefield.

Every soldier who had entered the new world was among the elite of the elite—each one a demon who had crawled out of the meat grinder known as the world war.

The brilliant sky darkened; black clouds pressed down upon the city, as if it were about to be crushed.