Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: I Threw the Bait, and They Bit
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I threw the bait, and they bit.
The fall of Polkin Pass sent shockwaves rippling across the world, far beyond the Great Desert.
The impregnable fortress had changed hands.
Nations across the Prosia Continent were frantically calculating the possibility of a Sika Clan invasion and all its variables, while the religious orders hailed it as a miraculous victory—inevitable in any war graced by the Grand Saintess herself.
Meanwhile, the desert vassals couldn't quite believe the news and kept dispatching scouts to confirm Kara's banner flying over Polkin Pass.
In the midst of all this, victory reports kept pouring into Kara. Beyond the initial four captured strongholds, they'd taken seven more, including Alpf, and secured the submission of eight neutral factions' territories.
This meant they'd claimed half the western Great Desert. Kara had now laid the foundation to truly ascend as a kingdom.
But it was only the beginning. The western plains and southern coastal cities still lay ahead. Conquering those would elevate Kara to the world's largest territory by landmass, with a population rivaling a modest nation.
'Thirteen thousand tons of grain alone... Fitting for a central supply base.'
In the commander's office of the pass, I read through the inventory reports of wartime supplies stacked up at Polkin Pass, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
Thirteen thousand tons of grain could feed over three hundred fifty thousand people for more than a year. Add to that four million five hundred thousand arrows, six thousand five hundred tons of raw materials, and countless other provisions... These stockpiles would play a crucial role in my postwar plans.
And that wasn't all. The commander's desk was buried under letters from the tribal lords and chieftains of the western Great Plains, all pledging their loyalty out of fear of Kara's might.
Zafar Tribal Lord's influence had been instrumental here. The moment I asked, he'd rallied his allied neutrals to switch sides and sail to Kara—prompting other neutral lords to follow suit, seeing which way the wind blew.
Now Duke Bastain's Lobros forces were isolated. Plenty of desert factions still sympathized with them, but with their supply lines cut and constant harassment from Kara's loyalists, they were little more than a nuisance.
"Master! Report! A Lobros Kingdom delegation has arrived outside the west gate. They wish an audience with you. What should we do?"
I inwardly cheered at the messenger's urgent words.
It had finally come.
When wars end, politics begins. Their delegation was tantamount to admitting the war was over.
Though whether it ended on their terms was another matter.
"Who's the representative?"
"Count Boris, who came as deputy head of Kara's delegation before."
Count Boris—an early-orphaned, rude noble. Weak as water against the strong, though. Perfect for negotiations.
"Bring him here."
"Yes, sir!"
I quickly set up a modest space in the council chamber and met him alone. Better if only we two knew the details of what was to come.
"White Face, sir. An honor to meet you again."
Unlike before, Count Boris adopted a properly deferential posture. We were the victors, after all—and he was alone with a Master swordsman.
"Out with it. What brings you here?"
"By His Majesty's command, I've come to negotiate postwar settlements."
I let out a snort.
"Postwar negotiations? You think the war's over?"
"Indeed. His great Majesty, King of Lobros, judges that with our army isolated in Braam, continuing the war is untenable."
"Obviously."
Count Boris looked slightly flustered.
"Then...?"
"The one who threw the punch and the one who took it see things differently. You don't seriously think the guy who got hit would just say 'sure, let's call it quits' after one swing?"
"But we are a great kingdom, and Kara is merely a city-state—a minor power. Surely even you must see further war is beyond your means...?"
"That's just your opinion. Kara's forces already exceed eighty thousand. Absorb the western plains, and we're looking at one hundred fifty thousand. Meanwhile, you've sunk most of your elite into the desert. I say we can more than hold our own."
Count Boris wiped sweat from his brow, visibly tense.
Fifteen thousand from the desert weren't your average troops—they were camel riders, backed by unknown divine weapons and the Grand Saintess's support.
If we pushed from Polkin Pass, their unprepared eastern heartlands would face an unprecedented catastrophe. And Lobros had no love lost with its neighbors. If they joined the fray, it could spell the kingdom's doom—the greatest crisis since its founding.
"But doesn't Kara have higher priorities? Building a kingdom and stabilizing the realm... Or am I mistaken?"
Count Boris struck at the heart.
Truth be told, Kara needed to unify the desert and consolidate first. Starting another war now risked a backstab from internal dissenters, leaving an eternal grudge.
But yielding here would derail my goals. I pushed him to the edge.
"No sweat. Nothing's catching our eye right now except crushing you first."
"White Face, sir. Think practically. Emotions alone solve nothing."
"It's not just emotions. Honestly, if you invade again, kingdom-building and stability go out the window—we'd be back at war. Better to gamble from this high ground while we can. Right?"
Another direct hit. Lobros was rich and populous, with troops aplenty. They could strike again anytime, plunging Kara back into peril.
Count Boris nodded calmly.
"So mutual distrust is the crux of these talks."
"Exactly. We can't trust your Lobros Kingdom."
"Why not?"
"We've already been stabbed in the back once."
Count Boris looked puzzled. They'd made unreasonable demands of Kara before, but never deceived.
"Impossible. As a great kingdom, we've always spoken truth."
"Don't make me laugh. Your Duke Bastain stabbed us in the back."
"What do you mean?"
"You must know. We sent a delegation to your kingdom and talked about it."
Count Boris's eyes darted, then widened as realization dawned, his face taut with tension. Kara's recent envoys had warned of Duke Bastain plotting rebellion.
"Then... Duke Bastain truly proposed rebellion to Kara?"
"Yep."
"Unbelievable..."
"You really didn't know?"
"No. We thought it was your divide-and-conquer ploy."
I feigned skepticism.
"Come on, don't lie. Why else would Bastain, who sought alliance, suddenly turn and send Marquis Fabius's expeditionary force against us? Obviously to lull us—a deception from you lot."
"Absolutely not. We knew nothing."
"Then what was Bastain's rebellion pitch?"
Count Boris stroked his chin thoughtfully, then replied gravely.
"Looks like Duke Bastain truly intended treason against His Majesty."
"Really? Then why the sudden change of heart?"
"Your envoys must have leaked the plot back home. Enraged, he doubled down on attacking Kara."
I pretended to buy his alibi.
"Hmm. That tracks. Could be. But it's just a theory. How do we trust you?"
"I'll report to His Majesty immediately and take action."
"How?"
"Summon Duke Bastain and all involved for trial. Once proven, execute them for treason to prove our innocence."
Count Boris was eager. A rebellion plot was his ticket to glory.
I smirked wickedly. He'd bitten my bait perfectly—but not quite how I wanted.
I snapped sharply.
"Nice try. Who do you think you are, palming the bottom card?"
"What?"
"How do we know if you'll punish or pamper the duke? And execution? You claim it, sneak them away—what then? How would we know?"
"Well..."
Cornered, he faltered. It was borderline absurd, but he couldn't deny they might cheat.
I flicked my tongue slyly, laying out my demand.
"Here's the deal. First, as war reparations, cede Jores Island to us."
Count Boris's eyes bulged in protest.
"White Face, sir—that's excessive! Jores Island could host an entire nation."
I knew. Plus, it sat perfectly positioned for trade between continents and Prosia. Control it, and Kara monopolized maritime commerce.
"Includes ransom."
"Ransom for what?"
"Your one hundred fifty thousand troops and one hundred seventy thousand auxiliaries in the desert—returned intact."
He pondered. That three hundred twenty thousand was nearly one percent of Lobros's population. Their return would steady public sentiment and the economy immensely.
But populations recover with land.
"But..."
"Plus, throw in Polkin Pass."
"This pass?"
His eyes lit with conflict at my bold offer. Polkin was the ultimate bulwark against desert forces and a key trade hub. Of course he'd want it back.
To me, though? Worthless dirt. Side paths abounded—I could reclaim it anytime.
Besides, if the era of ruin hit while Kara held it, I'd be first to face the monster hordes. Tried that for six months once. Hated it. Let someone else guard Polkin.
"Yes. And the future Kara Kingdom will recognize Lobros as its suzerain."
At this string of concessions, he beamed approval. Kara as vassal salvaged Lobros's face despite defeat and gave them a sturdy buffer state.
"Not bad at all. I'll relay to the homeland and push it through."
"One more thing. Something you do for us."
"What?"
"As suzerain, your first request: Send a list of traitors stamped with the king's seal. We handle the rest. Clean and simple."
He grinned slyly.
"You mean execute Duke Bastain yourselves."
"Exactly. Only way we trust you. Basic condition for mutual faith. Refuse, and war continues."
"No worries. Easy enough. Who executes doesn't change the outcome. So, who’s on the list?"
"Entire expeditionary command."
His eyes widened. Five percent of Lobros's titled nobles were in that command. Their deaths for treason would rock the realm.
Though reclaimed estates meant fat rewards for loyalists.
"I'll try, but spare Marquis Fabius? He's our irreplaceable symbol of might."
"I know. Truth be told, I don't want to kill the bald grandpa either. Remember? When your delegation came, we got chummy."
His face brightened.
"True. You two were thick as thieves."
"Instead, add one non-commander to the kill list."
"Who?"
"Count Malthus. Looks involved. Bastain couldn't cross Polkin without his help."
"Fair point. We'll hand Malthus over too."
I extended my hand with a bright smile. Deal sealed.
Afterward, we hashed out details. Broad strokes agreed, but procedures lingered: timelines for the list, Jores, Polkin, and troops.
Soon after, a secret list stamped with the Lobros King's seal arrived.
'Knew you'd bite. No way you couldn't in this spot.'
The king had long suspected Bastain's treason, sending Fabius's force against Kara—which proved fatal.
The decisive blunder? Himself. Politically disastrous—could weaken the crown severely.
But I'd handed him Bastain as a scapegoat.
He had to bite. Proven true, it vindicated his judgment, pinned defeat on the duke, and sharpened his blade to bolster royal power.
Refuse? Idiocy.
Accept? Supreme folly.
'You decrepit fool. Wait for it—off to the next world soon. For my lifespan dreams, you gotta die.'
I threw the bait, and they bit.
End