Chapter 131
Chapter 130
A scene nearly identical to the one from two weeks prior unfolded once more.
The western gate of Alun Fortress opened, and its lords emerged once again to greet their guests.
A knightly order of over five hundred.
And two Transcendents.
Everything was the same as before—even the eight soldiers carrying the palanquin at the forefront.
But the atmosphere was entirely different, evident from the demeanor of the palanquin's occupant.
"Lower it. I shall greet them personally."
"Chung! Patrick MacLaine pays homage to His Highness Romain von Grandia, the rightful heir to the throne! I report the successful completion of our 'mission' and our triumphant return!"
Successful completion of the mission?
Jordan nearly spoke up at the sly choice of words—crafted to leave no room for public criticism—but the prince beat him to it.
"Ahahaha! Indeed. Sir Patrick, I commend your achievements. And to the soldiers of MacLaine—you have all done well!"
Even nobles who looked down their noses at commoners were stunned.
Prince Romain, who usually regarded common soldiers as beneath his notice, was now openly praising them.
The soldiers themselves remained silent, heads bowed, but the nobles who understood the implications couldn't help but be astonished.
'He's treating them as equals to a Border Lord.'
'Another power player has emerged.'
'We'd better make a good impression.'
As the nobles silently calculated, the man at the center of it all drove the point home.
"Welcome the heroes who have earned the greatest merits! Salute MacLaine!"
"Waaah!"
A thunderous cheer erupted from the fortress at Jordan Walterheim's command.
But behind him, one man's expression darkened to the point of outright hostility.
The Second Prince faction's preparations to welcome MacLaine didn't end with the fanfare outside.
Deep within Alun Fortress, in the innermost residence of the Inner City, quarters were prepared for MacLaine's delegation, and separate accommodations were arranged for their soldiers.
Soon after, a welcoming ceremony commenced in the Grand Hall of the Inner City.
Given wartime conditions, all attendees wore armor, and the refreshments consisted of non-alcoholic beverages and modest snacks. Still, every influential noble of the Second Prince faction was present—effectively the bulk of their elite forces.
'Except, of course, for Vifros and his lot.'
No one stopped Roger Vifros from excusing himself, citing exhaustion.
Everyone here knew of the conflict between his faction and MacLaine.
And the guests of honor at this reception?
Just two: Patrick and Logan.
"I'll handle the Second Prince. Just laugh off whatever he says. I've already publicly handed full authority to you, so my slip-ups won't trip us up."
True to his word, Patrick stood beside the prince, exchanging whispers and laughter, making it impossible for anyone else to approach.
Meanwhile, Logan conversed with a towering, gray-haired giant, leaving the other nobles to watch from a distance.
Suppressing a smirk, Logan bowed respectfully toward Duke Jordan despite his inner thoughts.
"First, I must apologize for not launching the rear attack as promised."
"No, no. Frankly, it was an impossible situation. You still achieved merit by finding another way—that's enough."
His tone was jovial, his pats on Logan's shoulder outwardly cheerful—but his eyes remained utterly cold.
A flawless act, undetectable unless seen up close.
'Cold-Blooded Serpent suits him better than Blazing Sword.'
Logan kept his scoff internal and replied with a smile.
"Thank you for your understanding."
"Oh, 'understanding'? It's only natural. Rewarding merit is one of the principles I've upheld my entire life. Let me say again—I'm sorry for doubting you initially. But from our perspective... Well, you understand, don't you?"
"Of course. I'm simply grateful to be welcomed now."
"Ahaha. Good. I'm the one who should thank you for understanding. But..."
"But does that mean my conditions have been accepted?"
Logan's interruption was deliberate, his voice louder than necessary.
Every noble in the hall, subtly eavesdropping, now openly stared.
Jordan's face stiffened momentarily before he replied.
"Of course! We'll consider it favorably. If we win thanks to you, what couldn't we grant? However..."
"So I can expect recognition of Vifros' territory, half of Marquis Calria's lands, and a count's title?"
Another interruption.
Jordan's expression froze, and silence fell over the hall.
"Ahem... As I said, we'll consider it favorably. But these aren't decisions I can make alone. The prince is also involved. Young man, ambition is good, but you should also consider your elders' circumstances."
He forced a laugh, but the hand on Logan's shoulder pulsed with a subtle, oppressive energy—one that seeped into his body unnoticed.
'Hm?'
Logan, confident in his own transcendent senses, barely detected it.
A technique that suppressed his Force, instilled psychological submission, and did so undetectably.
'Is this something only a Transcendent can do?'
Internally scoffing, Logan pretended to yield, bowing his head.
"Ah... Yes. I may have overstepped. My apologies."
"No, no. Youthful enthusiasm is understandable."
Jordan's smile returned, but Logan had already gotten what he wanted.
A glance around the hall confirmed it—the nobles were already whispering among themselves.
As Logan hid a smirk, Jordan finally broached his true intent.
"By the way, those weapons you used were remarkable. Any chance you'd share them with the faction? With those, this war could be won easily."
His tone dripped with greed—an attempt to seize MacLaine's core advantage.
The hand on Logan's shoulder still pulsed with that insidious energy.
But of course, he wouldn't get his way.
"Ah, about that... I'm sorry, Your Grace. Aside from what's already been produced, we have no surplus. We only have enough for our own use."
"Oh... Is that truly the case?"
Jordan's eyes gleamed like a serpent's as an overwhelming pressure radiated from him, making the surrounding nobles flinch.
The energy within Logan surged in response, tightening around his heart like a vise.
A suffocating fear—the sense that something terrible would happen if he lied.
Yet Logan's answer remained unchanged.
"Y-Yes, Your Grace. I apologize... Ugh...!"
"Ah, what a shame. Hm, you look tired."
"N-No, I'm fine—"
"No, no. You seem exhausted. I must have kept our battle-worn hero too long. Enjoy yourself a little, then rest well. Another battle likely awaits soon."
With a laugh, Jordan patted Logan's shoulder and turned away.
Logan stared blankly after him, like a man waking from a dream.
Inside, however—
'Is this how a Transcendent acts? You rotten bastard...'
Suppressing a growl from his Force Core, he let the oppressive energy fade naturally, allowing sweat to bead on his brow as if genuinely affected.
Only then did the other nobles swarm him.
"Lord Logan, about those weapons—"
"Might I have a moment of your time?"
"Haha. Your performance was remarkable. I'm—"
Most weren't worth remembering—except for the Border Lords.
Logan exchanged pleasantries, deftly sidestepping probing questions.
'I'd rather be fighting. Damn it.'
Just as he sighed internally—
"If you lack the numbers, could you at least provide samples or blueprints?"
A brown-haired, blue-eyed Border Lord with an unremarkable face interjected.
"Luchen... Talos. Count Talos."
"Hm, good. I'm flattered you remember me—I'm rather forgettable."
As if Logan could overlook one of the faction's key figures.
"How could I forget? It's an honor to speak with you, Your Lordship."
Logan waved off his humility with a deep bow.
Luchen's blue eyes gleamed.
"If it's an honor, does that mean you'll agree to my request?"
But Logan had anticipated this.
"Blueprints wouldn't be difficult, but given the time required to produce and deploy them, I doubt they'd be useful now."
"If we pooled our resources, we could expedite the process."
"Hm. If you insist, I suppose I can't refuse."
"Oh, truly?"
Of course.
The repeating crossbows would be downgraded to Ulvs' weaker versions, and Liberatio would be completely falsified.
There'd be no time to verify them anyway.
"Why not? We're on the same side now."
Logan smiled brightly, his words dripping with false sincerity.
"Haha. You'd really do it? I'm impressed—most wouldn't relinquish such an advantage so easily. Perhaps I misjudged you."
Luchen laughed heartily, clapping Logan's shoulder.
Within hours of the modest reception's end, Logan's words reached one man's ears.
"Who dares claim my land?!"
Crash!
A storm of wind erupted around the red-eyed, middle-aged man.
Though the Second Prince faction celebrated MacLaine's merits, most attention focused not on the supply depots' destruction but on Kairan Ulvs' defeat.
Even just one of the Twin Fortresses housed nearly thirty thousand people—excluding the surrounding villages.
Seizing their food stores alone could alleviate immediate shortages... or so they thought.
But the First Prince faction's situation was different.
With all three supply depots burned, nobles who'd never cared for peasants now faced an unexpected crisis.
Only after realizing that few farmers had enough food stored from last harvest did they grasp their plight.
"We've requisitioned all supplies within the fortress, but it's barely a week's worth. Raiding the villages could yield months' worth, but the enemy won't sit idle."
"Are you suggesting we abandon this fortress?"
"...If we can't secure more food, we may have to."
"Ha... Those rat bastards planned this well. Turen was one thing, but Alston and Firenze—how did they know? Do we have spies? Damn them all!"
"Your Grace, if I may... I have a theory."
"'If I may'? Out with it!"
"Well... Alston and Firenze were both Cairos grain warehouses. And if I recall correctly, they're related by marriage to those bat-like traitors..."
Juan Douglas's eyes blazed.
The result?
When the desperate First Prince faction marched out of Alun Fortress once more—
The Cairos Knightly Order, once mocked as mere "mercenaries" or "Golden Knights," now stood at the vanguard.