Chapter 134
Chapter 134
Halun Fortress, boasting the second-largest population in the kingdom after the capital, was also the largest grain-producing region where harvests from the vast Grandia Plains piled up like mountains within its walls.
The First Prince Faction had planned a large-scale counterattack centered around Halun Fortress, but after suffering heavy losses in yet another major battle, they now stubbornly held their ground, refusing to be provoked into action.
An impregnable fortress. A formidable garrison. No matter how advantageous their position, capturing it would require paying a steep price in lives—a sacrifice none of the Second Prince Faction's frontier lords were willing to make.
After all, if someone else managed to capture the First Prince and Duke Juan Douglas while they bore the brunt of casualties, they'd be left looking like utter fools.
Duke Jordan, too, had no desire to take unnecessary risks when victory was already within sight.
A cornered rat might bite a cat.
With the besieged fortress's food supplies dwindling, patience seemed the wiser course. Naturally, the frontlines stagnated again, and the war dragged on.
And this waiting game was far more agonizing for the Second Prince Faction's forces maintaining their encirclement outside Halun's walls.
"Let's abandon Halun altogether and head to Grand to hold the coronation! If we take every surrounding fortress and leave Halun isolated, what could they possibly do?"
Such arguments had become commonplace—though considering the strategic implications, potential ambushes during withdrawal, and fluidity of the frontlines, they were little more than wishful thinking.
During this period of silence from both factions' leadership...
The turning point of the war came from an entirely unexpected—yet perhaps inevitable—direction.
"We've received reports that the supply convoy disguised as Philip's merchant group has safely reached the frontlines."
"Already?"
"The Second Prince's side provided most of the rations. Since we didn't need to transport food separately, the convoy's size was drastically reduced, improving mobility."
"But even carrying just the magazines and Liberatio, that's still a considerable quantity?"
"Philip mentioned knowing some shortcuts—trade routes originally pioneered by one of the kingdom's top three merchant guilds..."
"Hooh. As expected of the talent my brother recruited."
Dwain forced a wry smile at Ronian's response.
As a retainer, seeing his lord's sons get along was never a bad thing, but this young master's admiration seemed excessive by any measure.
Every piece of good news about the territory inevitably led to "...thanks to my brother." Their bond went beyond mere fraternal affection—it bordered on religious devotion.
Finding this fascinating, Dwain cautiously prodded further.
"Philip is indeed exceptional, but surely that's not entirely due to the Grand Prince's influence?"
The young lord's gaze sharpened slightly.
"You yourself praised Administrator Damian Nadal for making territory management far more efficient. He was also brought in by my brother."
"Recruiting talent is always a gamble—sometimes you strike gold, other times you're left empty-handed. That's luck, not necessarily the Grand Prince's—"
"Administrator Dwain. Are you doubting my brother's capabilities now?"
The words cut like a blade. A chilling killing intent radiated from those crimson eyes.
As goosebumps rose on his arms, Dwain hastily backtracked.
"Of course not! I merely meant the Grand Prince is blessed with excellent fortune. Yes, precisely that."
"...My brother simply has an exceptional eye for talent."
Even so, luck must have played some part...
Dwain quickly shook off the thought and changed the subject.
"Ah, one last thing. The marketplace within town is gradually expanding. With the increasing number of outsiders, we'll need to deploy more security personnel inside the town compared to other fortresses."
"The new recruits we've started training are still in the training grounds, correct?"
"Yes. Even after completing training, they'll need time before being fully operational."
"Tch. Well, our regular soldiers are already stretched thin, so have the town militia rotate between the two towns for training. With separate compensation, of course."
"Understood."
The young lord was certainly thorough.
Both brothers were sword prodigies with remarkable intellects.
Just how much divine favor had this territory received?
As Dwain nodded with a satisfied smile, Ronian rose from his desk before the administrator could even turn to leave.
"Off to see Hamar again?"
"Naturally. My brother specifically instructed me to look after him."
"But must you go daily?"
"All our territory's achievements on the frontlines stem from the repeating crossbows and Liberatio. Hamar's at the core of their production—how could I neglect him? I must ensure he faces no difficulties."
"Truly admirable."
"It's only what's expected."
Cough. Cough.
"I'm working myself to death. Master Hamar, do you think the young lord will visit again today?"
"That stubborn bastard's worse than his brother. Daily inspections... Absolutely no slacking off—keep those production lines perfect! If he's anything like his brother, who knows what he'll do if something goes wrong."
Hamar and Temar beside him shuddered as he spat the words.
Hamar's infamous tale of being caught cutting corners and subsequently sentenced to six months of "vacation"—actually grueling weapon production dubbed "A Dwarf's Romance"—was legendary among the dwarves.
Temar scratched his goosebump-covered arms with claw-like fingers and nodded vigorously.
"Yes. We'll monitor everything thorough—"
"My apologies. I merely came to offer encouragement."
"Gahk!"
"Yo-young lord!"
The two dwarves jumped nearly their own height at the sudden appearance of the red-haired noble.
Though his features were gentler than the fiery imprint left by a certain someone in Hamar's memory, at this moment, he seemed more terrifying than anyone.
"Hahaha! We were just... psyching ourselves up to work harder! Right, Temar?"
"Y-yes, young lord! Just... preparing to contribute to the territory by diligently operating the workshop! That's all!"
"......"
"......"
"......"
An awkward exchange of glances.
Finally, Ronian chuckled and patted Hamar's shoulder, then uttered something the dwarves never expected to hear.
"With the war at a stalemate, I'll grant you some rest. It seems I've been working you too hard."
"Th-thank—"
Thwack!
"...Gah! Wh-why?!"
"Hahaha! Young lord, absolutely not! All our work serves the territory—how could we rest at such a critical time! We're fine!"
Temar wore a bewildered expression at Hamar's blatantly nonsensical protest, clearly thinking the dwarf had lost his mind.
Hamar's eyes bulged as he glared.
'Accept that offer and that "vacation" becomes hell! These crimson-eyed devils are actual demons! Don't fall for it!'
With the demon's younger brother watching keenly, Hamar could only scream his true feelings through his eyes.
Unfortunately, his desperate telepathy seemed lost on Temar.
"But they're offering us days off, why—"
Ugh! This idiot!
Hamar nearly beat his chest in frustration at Temar's obliviousness.
"Take a few days. The marketplace has new attractions and food stalls worth seeing."
"...R-really...?"
"Of course. The first supply shipment arrived safely, and we have time before Philip returns with the second."
"Really, truly?"
"Yes, I said so. Have you only known deceit?"
Well... from your brother, constantly.
Hamar wisely swallowed the words rising in his throat.
Instead—
"Th-thank you! You fool! Bow properly!"
"I've been bowing since—ah, damn it."
—he repeatedly bent his waist with grateful expressions.
"Ah, but you'll need to be accompanied by knights. Master Hamar, you're our territory's most vital asset now. Your safety comes first."
How sweetly he phrased it.
Hamar began seeing this young lord as a veritable angel compared to his devilish brother.
Of course, Hamar didn't immediately let his guard down and enjoy his vacation from the first day.
'He's still that devil's brother. Could be a trap.'
Remnant wariness made him cautious.
But as various delicacies and MacLaine's scarce beers entered his mouth at the newly established marketplace, his vigilance began fading.
By the third day—
"Young lord! There's a new skewer stall—perfect beer snack! Let's start there today!"
—Hamar was practically dragging Ronian from the lord's manor to the marketplace for their daily "work."
On his back, he carried a custom-made oak barrel strapped to a carrying frame.
The nearly dwarf-sized portable barrel had a long straw made from dried grass extending to his mouth.
He called this contraption—which allowed constant beer sipping from the barrel on his back—a "straw" and cherished it dearly.
Ronian wore an awkward expression rather than marveling at this excessive creativity, taking a step back.
"Uhm. Isn't it a bit early?"
"What nonsense! Markets are busiest in the mornings!"
While technically true—for the vendors preparing—Ronian looked exasperated, but Hamar paid no heed.
As they wandered between stalls, Ronian's eyes suddenly sharpened.
'A Force user?'
A man whose Force felt artificially suppressed brushed past him.
Though not possessing his brother's transcendent senses, Ronian as a Force Core practitioner remained acutely sensitive to anomalous energies.
Had it been an ordinary Force user, they wouldn't have caught his attention.
'Masking their Force to pose as merchants.'
His relaxed nerves tensed as his senses began picking up more details.
'One ahead. Two behind.'
The anomalies weren't isolated.
"Wow, this meat's delicious! What is it? Rat? Ew, like squeaky rats? Bleh! Should've warned me!"
"You ate it willingly! Pay up!"
Ronian edged closer to Hamar, who was arguing with a stall owner.
"Young lord! This dwarf here—"
Having seen him frequently, the vendor spoke familiarly.
Behind them, a man passed by—easily mid-tier Force user level.
"Ah, I saw. Just pay up, Master Hamar."
"Young lord?!"
Ronian naturally averted his gaze from the "enemy," calmly responding while subtly maneuvering Hamar toward the marketplace's sparser outskirts.
'So it's actually happening.'
—Once we attract attention, watch Hamar closely. Rumors about him may spread, and assassination or kidnapping attempts could follow. Protect him at all costs.
Marveling at his brother's foresight, Ronian remembered to send the prearranged hand signals.
Alerts to soldiers and knights stationed throughout town.
"The outskirts have more new vendors. Excellent choice, young lord."
Fortunately, Hamar—now a fervent convert to street food—noticed nothing amiss, chattering away while stuffing another skewer into his mouth.
His face already flushed from constantly sipping beer through the long straw.
Just as Hamar's grin seemed permanently affixed...
The "enemies" began moving.