Nivea's Western Witches Mobilize After the Ether-Barriantus Clash
The Western Witches led by Nivea began to move after witnessing the battle between the Ether Empire and Barriantus. It wasn't because Nivea distrusted me, but because Saiton's nobles distrusted the witches. Saiton's nobles could hardly be called competent even in the kindest terms, aside from accepting the Western Witches in the first place. That acceptance had been the king's decision alone, not the nobles' will.
That said, Saiton was a relatively prosperous region, so the nobles had amassed considerable wealth. Many had donated that fortune to the nation early in independence to secure their positions. On that basis, one of the remaining seven factions had emerged, so they weren't entirely useless. But the king now judged their usefulness spent.
Saiton's king had secretly tasked Nivea with purging incompetent nobles—specifically, those opposing his views—before attacking the Baraha Kingdom. Nivea disliked the mission. With all their strength needed against Baraha, a massive internal purge was secondary; it smacked of boiling the dog after the hunt. Nobles this time, but next? The witches themselves.
Defying the king's order wasn't easy either. I watched the situation, debating whether to help Nivea. But the need vanished.
"Lady Grand Witch, you seem lost in thought."
The one who appeared before the troubled Nivea was Naru, the ghost shaman I’d escorted to the Western Witches during the Great Labyrinth incident.
"Yes, Naru. It's troubling me."
Naru manipulated resentful souls. She shared some similarities with me. She could exert faint physical force through them and, though not collecting real-time intel from clones like I did, sent resentful souls nearby and gleaned information from their returns. After naturalizing in Saiton, Naru shone in several battles—scouting enemy positions or uncovering plans ahead of time. Much like how I'd aided Ether as a soul.
"Saiton's king isn't a good man. He's accrued a lot of grudges."
The resentful souls clinging to Saiton's king numbered many. He'd killed plenty to claim the throne in the civil war, and even before that.
"That's precisely the problem. He could use us up and discard us anytime."
"Then why not use this chance to replace the king? The prince doesn't seem bad-natured."
Naru’s suggestion shook Nivea’s eyes—and her resolve. Her inner turmoil deepened.
"I'll think it over deeply."
"As you wish, Lady Grand Witch."
Naru, far younger than her, showed proper respect and withdrew. But as she left, she spotted my clone in the corner and gave a slight bow. I knew she could see it. I couldn't shake the suspicion she'd staged this for me. A cunning old witch, true to form.
Fine. Nivea might hate it later, but with my promise to Melania, I'd offer a small hand this once. I didn't want the Western Witches used and discarded by Saiton's king either.
I visited Eltis and obtained a Blue Moon mark. That night, Saiton's king died. A Blue Moon mark adorned his forehead.
The Saiton palace erupted in chaos, naturally. Chasing the enigmatic Blue Moon, who left no traces, was impossible. Before the king's funeral even began, ambitious nobles started covert moves for the throne.
Nivea wasn't foolish enough to waste such a golden opportunity.
Saiton's first prince, Ryan, had a decent nature but lacked ruthlessness. He was too soft for kingship in some ways. He was one of the few showing kindness to Nivea and the witches. Simple reason: young witches were mostly beauties. Ryan wasn't a lecher, but liking pretty girls was instinct for boys his age.
Nivea swiftly contacted the first prince, publicly declaring the witches' support. The queen consort was present too. She disliked witches but was thrilled now. She knew they were Saiton's greatest force.
With the prince and queen's approval, Nivea executed traitorous nobles—and some overly incompetent or witch-hostile ones.
These events delayed Saiton's Baraha assault, but as the Western Witches solidified their position, the Ether Empire readied to strike Barriantus's capital, their final bastion.
The first battle had ended anticlimactically, and no real fights followed, so Ether's forces suffered minimal losses. They'd even swelled by absorbing surrenders. Border guards from Ether's original frontiers marched into new territories to maintain order, easing rear and supply worries.
They brazenly built camps near the capital, but Barriantus dared no raids.
"Too easy."
The Seven Swords felt regret at lacking chances to shine, save the brief opener.
"Will we get to step up later?"
"If we do, won't that spell trouble?"
Regret they had, but no complaints. Complaints need worthy foes.
Barriantus's gates cracked open; a few with white flags emerged.
"We are Barriantus diplomats! We seek talks with Empress Shartia!"
They shouted their identity and purpose approaching Ether's camp. Informed, Shartia met them.
"Empress Shartia, Barriantus wishes to surrender."
"Terms?"
"The royal family's wealth and safety."
Shartia's face twisted instantly.
"How dare you utter such drivel here!"
Her aide Mallus roared in fury, hand twitching toward his sword.
Barriantus had executed Shartia's family wholesale; demanding royal survival as condition was brazen. Yet such was diplomacy.
"Safety guaranteed. Wealth and status, not."
Shartia accepted with surprising poise.
"Th-that's—"
The diplomats stammered. Recent royals or high nobles, stripping wealth and rank was a death sentence. But they'd known she wouldn't yield easily.
Tenacious, the talks dragged. Then, mid-negotiation in the tent, Argin Tempest entered and tossed something central.
"Caught him sneaking away."
Barriantus's king's head. Diplomats gaped. They'd been sent to buy his escape time, unbeknownst to them.
Of course, I'd tipped off the royals' flight.
Thus, Barriantus fell. Remnants, seeing Ether troops stringing royal heads, lacked fight. They surrendered en masse, begging mercy.
Shartia accepted most. Reborn Nebra Duchy desperately needed talent. She knew that. Sorting wheat from chaff remained, but locals' knowledge was vital.
The war ended far easier than expected. Not all good, though—vast new lands outpaced administrators.
I recruited ambitious Akasha Territory managers eager to prove themselves in the new duchy. Few applied—far fewer than for William's service—but all proven elites. I sent them to Shartia: a nation-founding gift.
She, dreaming of an Akasha-like realm, welcomed these veterans more than any present.
Soon, crushing holdout nobles, Shartia conquered all Barriantus lands and formally declared the Nebra Duchy. Nebra's old plus Barriantus made about two-sevenths of old Neos—still small.
Founding rites drew regional dignitaries. Most eyed Ether more than Nebra or Shartia, but she gritted teeth, vowing a nation none could scorn.
Meanwhile, amid allied kingdoms' anti-Ether ploy, the sole true prince among "exiled" royals—Gilliman Crusio, third prince of Crusio Kingdom—leapt to reclaim his throne with coalition aid. Target: Concart Kingdom, Crusio's destroyer.
Unexpectedly robust support swelled his army to 30,000. No elites, but secret Master knights from allies joined.
Crusio forces smashed Concart's border irresistibly. Concart resisted desperately, but allied Masters overwhelmed—even rivaling hotly.
Overlooked: Impressive Masters, yes—but leader was Prince Gilliman Crusio. He led commands boldly, proposing fine tactics before grizzled generals.
Gilliman was no fool. Allies propping him as puppet underrated him gravely.
As Crusio delved deep into Concart, troubles mounted. Scorched-earth retreats starved supplies, but Concart's true power mobilized.
Concart, finest military successor to Neos, held two Masters. Seizing Crusio's supply gaps, they struck.
Concart Masters hit-and-ran ruthlessly—no clashes with Crusio's, targeting wagons or detachments. Crusio countered by hiding Masters in such, but leaks let Concart ghost them elsewhere.
Crusio's advance stalled; fronts locked. None realized yet: Gilliman's ploy.
I knew. So I watched this war's course with delight.