Poznyu Encirclement Operation (1)
The cavalry roamed the outskirts of Poznyu, stopping merchants at random for inspections.
“Halt!”
“What’s the problem?”
“We’re tracking escaped prisoners who fled this way. Step away from your wagons and line up immediately. Fail to comply, and we’ll treat you as accomplices.”
“Look, here’s my permit…”
Clang!
The patrol captain drew his sword as he spoke.
“You refusing orders?”
“No, it’s just…”
“Suspicious. Hey! Bind him! Take him to the garrison for a thorough interrogation. We’re seizing the wagons until the investigation’s done.”
The merchants protested vehemently, but the cavalry didn’t budge. No matter the excuse, they dragged everyone off to the 3rd Legion’s outpost.
Occasionally, those who complied without fuss were let through—but not a single one carrying food supplies.
Poznyu was a classic consumer city. Cut off from surrounding villages, it would starve without imports.
They hadn’t blocked all foot traffic, but it was effectively a siege.
The fallout hit the city faster and harder than expected. They’d awakened the monster of human greed.
In Poznyu’s southern commercial district—a massive market rivaling the best in the Lock Kingdom.
Goods traded here were mostly monster byproducts, herbs, ores, and food—tied to mercenary work.
Always bustling, but now it was chaos, like a battlefield.
In front of a grain shop stacked with wheat sacks, a mercenary in shabby leather armor bellowed.
“What? Three silvers? You kidding me? It was one and a half yesterday! Prices doubling overnight?”
The young mercenary growled under his breath, but the shopkeeper just picked at his ear, ignoring him.
He’d dealt with countless arguers today alone.
“Don’t like it? Don’t buy. Tomorrow it might be five times—why sell now? Be grateful. And get that stinking beggar ass out of my doorway!”
“What? Beggar? Stinking? You done?”
“Yeah, done! What you gonna do?”
“You bastard?”
The argument escalated; the young mercenary drew his sword. Tense standoff, but the shopkeeper just snorted and snapped his fingers.
Burly, bearded mercenaries poured out from the back—twice the wiry youth’s bulk, all muscle.
“What’s this? Causing a scene out front?”
The youth’s voice softened as he sized them up.
“H-Hey! We’re mercenaries too—cut me some slack. I gotta eat. My little sister’s been surviving on one meal a day for two days!”
He pleaded pitifully, but they didn’t blink. Their own hard-knock lives made sob stories commonplace.
The bearded one glanced at the shopkeeper.
“How you want him handled?”
“Teach him a lesson so he never pulls this shit here again.”
“Got it.”
The youth, intimidated by the approaching brute, waved his sword side to side.
“H-Hey! Stay back!”
“That’s not how you use a blade, kid.”
The beard casually pushed the wildly swinging flat of the sword.
“Gah!”
The youth toppled instantly. The beard kicked his dropped sword away, then nodded to his crew.
“Step on him!”
They stomped mercilessly on the curled-up youth.
Thud thud thump thump thump thump!
He could only scream, body balled tight.
“Aaaagh!”
Then someone intervened.
“Enough.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Boss, she’s a looker—maybe a girl? Take her back and check. Hell, even if it’s a guy, as long as it feels good.”
“Uhahahaha!”
“Kekekeke!”
They spewed filth, circling Calix and Krout.
If Krout had been in knightly uniform, they wouldn’t dare. But disguised as mercenaries to hide their nobility, they blended in.
Calix sighed.
“I don’t make a hobby of bullying the weak… tch. If I say I’ll take that guy and go, you gonna let me?”
“Heh. Kid, he still owes us a beating. Wanna pay it for him? You’re pretty enough—we’ll go extra hard. Heh heh heh.”
As the beard reached for Calix’s shoulder, he felt an invisible weight pressing down—like someone gripping it firmly. He whipped around, but no one was there.
A chill hit him; he stepped back instinctively. The heavy air lightened.
His eyes met the giant staring him down. Innocent eyes, yet an uncanny pressure.
Instinct screamed: Don’t touch this one.
“Ahem! That was a joke. This time, I’ll be merciful. Take him and scram. Hmph!”
The shopkeeper watching jumped up in rage.
“What? Why the sudden change? Give him a proper thrashing—don’t just let ’em walk!”
The beard snapped irritably.
“Shut it! If we kill him, you paying compensation? Gonna cover it all?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Then zip it!”
The unsatisfied shopkeeper grumbled.
Tsk, Ptui! “Don’t you ever show your face around here again, punk. Got it?”
His phlegm splattered on the fallen youth. The sticky glob mixed with tears, trickling down his cheek.
As Calix sighed shortly and moved to pass, the youth suddenly grabbed his ankle, pleading.
“Please… help me, sir. I’ll do anything. If I don’t earn today’s pay, my sister starves. I beg you!”
“Trias.”
“Yes, young master.”
“Poznyu has a slum?”
“What city doesn’t? Especially here—no army or officials to aid the poor.”
“Even so, it’s only been days since the encirclement. Food shortages already? For a place not built for sieges, this is too much…”
“Less a lack of food, more merchants holding back.”
“Why?”
“No farmland nearby—imports from afar. With the siege’s end unknown, they hoard.”
Calix pointed at the clinging youth.
“Verify if he really has a sister. If true, find him honest work. Pay in food for now.”
“Understood.”
“Thank you! Thank you! I’ll never forget this kindness!”
Dragged off by another mercenary, he repeated his thanks. But Calix’s face stayed grim.
One person was fine—but this was just the start.
Back at mercenary headquarters, Calix pondered. Convincing merchants seemed doubtful.
Won’t change with thoughts alone. Gotta try.
He headed to Madam Hari’s salon.
Small fry might bite, but big players needed her intro.
“Long time.”
Her response was cool. Maybe because Yurin clung to his side the moment he entered, refusing to let go.
Calix understood. Yurin volunteered, but she was still a hostage for 100,000 gold.
If someone pawned my hard-raised daughter for cash, I wouldn’t like them either.
He skipped the emotions, got to business.
“Set up meetings with the big shots hoarding food in bulk.”
“Food…?”
“Ooh, what? Some money-making scheme?”
Madam Hari tilted her head; Yurin perked up, eyes sparkling at profit.
“Merchants hoarding spiked tensions. Slum kids starving already. Could spark riots.”
“What’ll you do with them?”
Her tone softened slightly—she cared too.
“Ask ’em to sell some food.”
“They listen? They caused this.”
“Figure it out. Also need to check new intel.”
Yurin wrinkled her cute nose.
“Sniff sniff! Smells like big money.”
“Nah. Charity work—no profit. And fix your face; don’t waste that prettiness.”
Losing interest at “charity,” Yurin rubbed her cheek on his thigh, mumbling.
“Hmm, weird. Definitely smells like money…”
As Yurin wouldn’t detach, Madam Hari’s face soured. Calix stood abruptly, prying her off.
“I’ll be in the study checking reports. Set the meetings. They won’t meet just ’cause we ask—use Red Wolf Mercenary Corps name. I’ll think on persuasion.”
“Got it.”
She nodded and left. Alone in the study, he eyed the report mountain and sighed.
“Ugh. Stacked up this much already? Few rough days ahead.”
Days later, Calix wrestled the piled reports.
Thanks to Madam Hari and Yurin’s exile network, kingdom intel flowed fast to the salon.
Unlimited access to this database alone justifies the 100,000 gold.
With game knowledge of history’s flow, fragments painted the big picture.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
Trias entered, fuming.
“Food prices skyrocketing, fueling panic. Three more starved in the slums yesterday. We need to secure supplies by force. Mood’s turning ugly.”
“I’d love to. But violence worsens it. Who hires most mercenaries here?”
“Ugh, the hoarding merchants.”
Calix nodded.
“Right. Turn merchants against mercenaries, and Poznyu collapses.”
“No way around?”
“Get them to release goods willingly—best shot.”
“They listen if we ask?”
“Hmm…”
He hid it, but Calix wasn’t at ease either—slum woes, merchant greed gnawed.
Especially when mercenaries brought a starved kid’s body days ago—rage boiled.
Grima’s controls aside, starvation happened before and would again.
Even in modern Korea with vast ag output, it occurred. Eren Continent was worse.
But ignoring merchants? No—riots could justify central army intervention.
Riots?
Calix felt slapped awake.
Hold on—if Grima wants this chaos for 3rd Legion deployment on riot pretext? Closest troops get the call. Means they lack cause now.
Grima’s scheme sharpened into focus.
Move troops without cause? Only superior orders… or routine drills.