358. Rovers and Plunderers (4)
Baimeer slowly read the name of the village marked on the map again, taking his time. He chewed on each letter as if trying to swallow them whole. With trembling hands, he lifted his canteen, took a sip, and stared straight ahead.
Black smoke was rising from the foot of the mountain. It rolled down the slope, further and further, until it reached the plains.
Smoke was rising from various points on the horizon. He counted the black lines ascending into the sky before finally lowering his hand in defeat. It was a meaningless act.
The map would be accurate.
“Those lunatics…”
It was too harsh a phrase for a Knight of the Round Table to utter, but Baimeer growled, his beard trembling. A mounted knight galloped up beside him.
“My lord, the reconnaissance is complete, and I have returned.”
“Were there any survivors?”
“…None. At least within a 10-league radius, all the villages have been… evacuated.”
“Evacuated, huh? Did they evacuate those settlements, or did they burn them down?”
“…”
The knight who had returned from reconnaissance bowed his head in silence, agreeing with Baimeer’s anger. “Evacuated” was too euphemistic a description. There were no traces of survivors retreating.
In this area now, every settlement large enough to be marked on the map was burning. In wartime, one might suspect a scorched-earth tactic, but in peacetime? And to do this in early autumn, just before the harvest season—this wasn’t a tactical policy.
It was the act of heretics. There was no other way to explain this massacre. No ruler would destroy farmlands during the harvest season.
“How many people do you think lived in this area?”
“…”
“There was one city and five villages. Near the border, not a particularly prosperous area due to its lack of connection to major trade routes, but… it was something. There were probably about a dozen smaller settlements too small to be marked on the map.”
There’s no such thing as empty farmland. Well-maintained farmland always has inhabitants. By that simple calculation, there must have been at least ten small settlements within observable distance.
Nameless villages. Villages that would never have names. How many people died within them?
“There’s no guarantee they’re all dead, my lord. No matter how mad the current Phaeirn Royal Family is, they couldn’t have slaughtered everyone.”
“And if they survived? If the farmers who tilled the land all their lives abandoned their fields during the harvest season and fled, do you think they’d survive and build new settlements somewhere else?”
For farmers wandering without possessions, winter is crueler than war. Even those who stockpile supplies and hunker down in their homes often die during the winter. If the lunatics who burned entire villages spared the farmers, it’s unlikely they’d survive long.
So, all the farmers in this area were either dead or destined to die. Not because of war, famine, disaster, or plague, but simply because of the ruler’s whims.
*Crunch!*
The sound of his gauntlet crumpling echoed as he clenched his fist too tightly. Baimeer clicked his tongue briefly, looking at his aching right hand. He glared sharply at the horizon, then turned around.
“Retreat. Call the messengers.”
“Yes, my lord!”
*Whooosh!*
As the messenger blew the horn, Baimeer mounted his horse.
* * *
“Have they left?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. They crossed the border two days ago.”
“Haha! Good, it’s almost done!”
Zigismund laughed heartily, slapping his knee. The ministers forced smiles, trying to follow their monarch’s lead.
This conference room had been a place where people dropped dead just minutes ago. The ministers, crushed by fear, could only bow their heads.
Zigismund smiled as he looked at the still-unsorted floor of the conference room. The loyalist of the previous king, who dared to call for an end to civilian massacres, had met his end.
“Except for the Danes, there’s no one in the east brave enough to stand against us.”
“Your Majesty, there are many small nations in the east harboring grievances. Wouldn’t waging war in winter be too much of a burden…?”
“Does winter only come to us?”
The minister who had struggled to voice his opinion bowed his head weakly.
‘Of course, we’re the only ones who failed to secure provisions during the harvest season!’
None of the ministers dared to say it out loud. The civilian massacres, extravagance, civil war, and contamination from Hellish Magic had left fatal scars on Phaeirn’s economy.
Most of them expected the treasury to run dry before winter ended, the army to lack supplies even if they waged war, and half the population to suffer extreme famine before the spring harvest began.
The timing and situation were terrible for waging war. This way, everyone would just die miserable deaths. But if they defied Zigismund, the day of death would come sooner.
Ludwig stepped forward from among the bowing ministers.
“Your Majesty. None of the small nations would dare challenge your reign, but if a frontline forms, even if they just send a few soldiers to provoke the border, we’ll have no means to stop them.”
“Oh, Lord Wolfstahl. What do you suggest we do then?”
“We must move before the Danes form an alliance. We cannot be the ones isolated.”
“Finally, someone in this audience hall is using their head! Lord Wolfstahl, splendid!”
Zigismund laughed and stood up. He pulled out a scroll from his robe and tossed it. The scroll spun and rolled to the feet of one of the ministers.
“The late king was assassinated by my brother, and this was done so the Vaitas Church could exert influence over the secular royal family. They dared to use Phaeirn’s royal blood as puppets to manipulate state affairs, and to pay for this crime, we attacked their stronghold. But they detonated filthy Hellish relics, contaminating our territory.”
It was all lies. No one in the room believed Zigismund’s words. Not even himself. But once this became an official document, things would change. From then on, the truth would only come from the edge of a sword.
It was true that the northeastern region of Phaeirn was contaminated. And Phaeirn was still the most powerful nation in the eastern alliance. That left the small nations with only extreme choices.
Either wage war against the Phaeirn army, steeped in poison and right next to the Church of the Temple of the Gods.
Or remain silent in exchange for avoiding conflict with the Phaeirn army.
“The hypocrites of the Temple of the Gods are using the Danes’ stable boys to oppress us. What shall we do? I, Zigismund Lois von Blamburg, the last remaining royal blood of the Phaeirn Royal Family, declare vengeance and freedom. None of our rights shall be oppressed by religion, and this is not just my personal grudge, but for the freedom of us all. No one has the right to mock another’s right to live by using them as a pawn.”
The Dane Kingdom would prepare to march. To provoke them, all the nobles near the Dane border had been evacuated, and the farmlands burned. The Danes couldn’t possibly ignore it.
And if they knew, the Dane knights would surely march. For them, honor was more important than justification or profit.
There’s no one easier to predict than those who believe they fight for justice. Zigismund smirked bitterly.
“Now, answer me, Lord Wolfstahl. If this document is delivered to all the small kingdoms around us, what do you think they’ll do?”
“They’ll probably remain silent.”
They wouldn’t actively help Phaeirn. No one would easily join an attack on the Church. But between Phaeirn and the Danes, the small kingdoms would wait and see before choosing sides.
If the Danes gained the upper hand, Phaeirn would be isolated. If Phaeirn gained the upper hand, the Danes would be isolated. The first battle of this war would likely determine its end. Once one of the two great powers gained momentum, the war would roll on like a snowball.
“Yes, they’ll remain silent. But it’s not a silence of agreement—it’s the silence of jackals waiting to exploit weakness. If two great powers clash, the small kingdoms only need to wait for the crumbs.”
“But Your Majesty, the Danes are a powerful nation that has never lost a battle. Especially under King Vicente’s rule, they’ve even defeated the Empire in battle.”
Before the Battle of La Merthion, no one in the eastern alliance dared to challenge the Empire in war.
King Vicente led only his direct knights to advance towards the empire, even managing to occupy a duchy after a victory.
All for the sole reason that “vampires exploit the people”! Even now, with Dane’s international standing greatly diminished, the smaller kingdoms dared not covet Dane’s territory because of this.
Mad dogs—terrifyingly strong and united mad dogs. That’s exactly how the outside world viewed Dane.
“Lord Wolfstal. Do you think the Griffin Knights will lose in battle against them?”
“…It will be a long war. And that…”
“Yes, if it becomes a long war, royal families siding with Dane will emerge. That’s not good for us.”
While they might not be easily pushed back in battle, neither could they guarantee an easy victory. The Knights of the Round Table under Vicente were so formidable that they were said to rival the return of King Dane.
However, if the war drags on, Phaeirn cannot sustain its military expenses. With winter approaching, the current stockpiles won’t be enough to continue the war. And if Phaeirn slowly crumbles, the smaller kingdoms, like wolves eyeing the remaining meat, will extend their hands to Dane.
Thus, war is unavoidable. Ludwig’s eyes seemed to say as much. Zigismund licked his lips and laughed.
“We will give up the capital.”
“…What?”
Even the ministers, who had been maintaining their composure, staggered at this statement. Zigismund nodded and continued.
“We will leave only a minimal force and abandon the capital. Each territory will fortify its defenses and burn all farmland.”
“A scorched-earth strategy? But Your Majesty, that’s a strategy for when we can hold out, or in the worst-case scenario. This is no different from opening our borders to welcome their offensive!”
“Yes, it is. We will wait for a great famine to sweep across the kingdom. They say the enemy has never lost a battle? Fine. If we don’t engage in battle, that’s that.”
“…Your Majesty, please reconsider. Phaeirn’s Griffin Knights are a formidable force that will never be overwhelmed by them. We cannot accept defeat before even fighting!”
“Who said anything about defeat? We’re avoiding battle, not surrendering. We will lure their forces to the capital and strike their capital directly.”
Ludwig’s expression twisted. A counter-offensive? If it fails, we’ll be surrounded in the heart of the enemy’s main force. And with all our bases abandoned, there’s no chance of victory.
“If we detour from Dane’s expected advance route and attack, it might be possible, but we won’t make it in time. By the time our main force attacks Dane’s Altberth, they will have already burned Phaeirn and begun their retreat!”
“That’s if we go by land.”
Zigismund tilted his wine glass and spoke.
“Isn’t Phaeirn a maritime power?”
Though Dane has recently started maritime trade, they are essentially a landlocked nation. They have no navy to speak of, nor proper military ports. Infernumer might be the largest port, but even maintaining it is a struggle for the Dane Kingdom, unlike during the elves’ reign.
Their cavalry will burn Phaeirn? Let them burn it. There will be nothing left anyway. Meanwhile, Phaeirn’s forces will occupy Dane’s unguarded territories and begin looting.
“You said there will be severe famine this winter? Of course, that’s how it should be! Dane’s stable hands will eagerly march into our empty territories, but they will find nothing but ruins and refugees. Meanwhile, we will attack their rear—.”
“You mean to cut off their supplies, Your Majesty.”
“Yes. What do you think they’ll do if we cut off their supplies?”
“Wouldn’t they retreat?”
“A normal legion would. But their cause is ‘justice.’ They claim to prevent this nation’s tragedy and save its people. Starving people will beg for food, praising them as liberators and condemning our royal family’s misdeeds.”
Could the fools of the Round Table really turn away from this? No one answered Zigismund’s maddened gaze.
Vicente knew it was a trap but had no way to avoid it. His war justification in the international community was the “restoration of justice,” and abandoning the starving people would only allow Phaeirn’s royal family to wage a diplomatic war against their misdeeds.
“If Dane falls, the smaller kingdoms won’t resist us. One by one, we’ll devour them. Yes, the Eastern Union will then bear the name of the Phaeirn Empire. The arrogant specters of Leviathan are still reeling from the last war’s damage.”
Before this winter ends, the Eastern Kingdom Union will truly become one.
“By the time the Temple of the Gods and the Empire’s emperor notice and reach out, it will be too late. Only the gods above can stop us.”
And the gods never answer. The continent will fall into his hands, and the lords of hell will promise him the highest seat. The world will soon be his.
Zigismund bared his teeth and laughed.
* * *
[…So it is said, my lord.]
“Tell Piel she has always faced many hardships. This has been a great help.”
Fernandez gazed at the flickering dark green campfire in the corner of the cabin. In the flames, Partak grinned eerily.
[That woman won’t live long. Her abilities exceed her body’s limits.]
“…Yes. I suppose so.”
Fernandez quietly sipped his tea and spoke bitterly. The power of prophecy consumes one’s lifespan—or rather, one’s mind. That Piel’s mind remains intact is solely due to Robert’s care.
A fortunate thing. Piel must survive until everything is settled.
“By the way, how is Ana? Show her to me. I want to see her face.”
[Yes, my lord. Please wait a moment. Miss, greet your lord.]
[Pa!!]
An uncontrollable smile spread across Fernandez’s lips. He chuckled and nodded vigorously.
“Yes! It’s Daddy! Haha, this kid. She’s getting smarter every day… What do you think, Partak? From your perspective.”
[…She resembles you, my lord, in her sharp wit.]
“Yes, it’s only been a short time since she last saw me, yet she hasn’t forgotten her father. Isn’t that admirable?”
[Indeed, my lord.]
Partak tilted his gaze and answered reluctantly. Fernandez couldn’t take his eyes off Ana, who had started babbling, and thus missed Partak’s expression.
Partak coughed a few times and spoke.
[Then, my lord, what will you do? Will you retake Infernumer and strike their rear?]
“No. Is there a need for that?”
[…What?]
“There’s no need for us to join the war between Dane and Phaeirn. Chasing Phaeirn’s fleeing legions would be a waste of time, and Dane doesn’t need our help to avoid defeat in battle.”
[But my lord, didn’t you march out to aid Dane’s young Knight King?]
“Is sending troops the only way to help?”
Fernandez smiled at Partak’s confusion.
“Both Phaeirn and Dane preemptively acted to prevent smaller kingdoms from joining the war. That means the outcome of the war doesn’t solely depend on these two nations.”
Whether it’s Phaeirn or Dane, the smaller kingdoms of the Eastern Union will form public opinion and side with one or the other, which would be the worst outcome. Thus, both kingdoms are risking everything on a dangerous gamble, starting a perilous war.
Therefore, the outcome ultimately depends on whether the smaller kingdoms join the war.
[Are you planning to unite the smaller kingdoms? But that would…]
“Take too much time and have little chance of success. Trying to negotiate and unite them one by one would only make us miss our chance.”
[I don’t quite understand, my lord.]
“Monarchs are slow and indecisive in moments of opportunity but become exceedingly sharp in times of crisis. Those who see war as an opportunity will bide their time, but they won’t be able to handle sudden crises.”
Meeting the monarchs of the smaller kingdoms and the lords of the great territories one by one to negotiate and aid Dane? Of course, it’s impossible within the time frame. Even participating in this war is already too late.
Before Fernandez rose from death, Phaeirn had already made many moves. In chess terms, it’s like giving up the first ten moves. There’s no way to catch up in a time-sensitive battle using normal methods.
So, without abandoning principles, it’s time for another stratagem. A faster, more certain, and more impactful plan than negotiating with monarchs to form alliances.
“Plunder all the territories of the smaller kingdoms simultaneously.”
During the autumn harvest, no kingdom will dare to stand by and watch this horrific event. Their focus, once turned outward, will hastily shift inward, making it difficult to even consider intervening in another nation’s war.
And the Northern Warriors will deliver this massive plunder to their homeland. The north, suffering from food shortages, will receive enough supplies to last the winter, and in return, they can send more troops.
Phaeirn and Dane will engage in a long war without external aid. A winter of starvation approaches for all. Chaos will reign, making it impossible to distinguish friend from foe.
Chaos is the dark mage’s domain. Fernandez sipped his tea and smiled. It felt like he had finally returned home.
![[TS] Obsessed Gamer: The Ultimate Return](https://i3.wp.com/novelhitam.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/TS-Obsessed-Gamer-The-Ultimate-Return2.png?resize=85,105 "[TS] Obsessed Gamer: The Ultimate Return")
