At that moment, deep within the fortress, the Commander’s office was deathly quiet.
Heavy plate armor had been stripped off and tossed carelessly onto the carpet. Leona leaned back in a thick, bear-fur armchair, wearing nothing but a form-fitting linen shirt. The collar was pulled open, revealing her collarbones and a broad expanse of sun-kissed skin.
The long-haired Commander sat with her legs crossed atop the oak desk, a bottle of liquor dangling from one hand. She tilted her slender neck back, taking a massive gulp as stray droplets spilled from the corner of her mouth.
There was a unique, feral beauty to her—the kind that could make any man’s heart stop.
Knock, knock.
Two sharp raps hit the oak door. Before she could even answer, the visitor pushed his way in.
Soren stepped into the dimly lit room.
"Sit."
Leona didn't even raise her eyelids. She simply reached out and grabbed another bottle from the side.
Whish!
The bottle flew through the air in a perfect arc.
Soren caught it with one hand. The glass felt smooth, and the label bore the image of a black rose entwined in thorns.
Leona let out a small burr and grinned, flashing her white teeth."A bottle of Black Rose costs thirty gold coins. I usually can't bring myself to touch it, but I’m happy today. We’re squandering it all."
She set down her empty bottle, her gaze suddenly turning burning and intense as she stared fixedly at the recruit who had saved the fortress.
"Good job, Soren."
Her praise was neither subtle nor restrained, it was direct and passionate.
"Especially that arrow. It pierced eighteen hundred meters of wind and snow to nail that damned Warchief Blackstone to the ground."
"And detonating the alchemical fire oil. . ."
"If not for you, every warrior of the Crimson Moon Knights would be a corpse tonight. But because of you, we lived."
Leona pulled open a drawer and took out a badge engraved with a sword and a moon, sliding it across the desk toward Soren.
"According to military regulations, you should be promoted three ranks to Centurion. But in my opinion, that isn't enough of a reward."
"The Commander of the First Battalion fell in battle. From this moment on, the First Vanguard Knight Battalion of the Crimson Moon Knights belongs to you."
"Of the three thousand survivors left, whoever you set your eyes on, they're yours."
It was a staggering reward.
Yet, Soren’s face showed no sign of being overwhelmed or flattered. This was exactly what he needed, the [Warlord System] required him to possess an army.
Soren stood up, slammed his fist against his left chest, and gave a sharp, powerful field salute.
"Thank you, Commander."
Leona let out a laugh and raised her bottle toward him in a silent toast."This bottle is your prize. Drink!"
The spicy yet sweet purple-red liquid burned down his throat. It was indeed top-shelf.
After a few gulps of the strong spirit, the temperature in the room seemed to rise. A faint flush crept onto both of their faces.
Leona was caught in the immense joy of surviving a hopeless situation. Her body swayed slightly as she tapped the armrest of her chair with a hazy look in her eyes."Now we can finally stand tall in the Silvermoon Kingdom. Once winter passes and we recruit fresh blood, those Orcs won't dream of crossing the Rift again. . ."
"You’re dreaming, Leona."
Soren set his bottle down. The cold splash of his words was jarring.
The cheerful atmosphere froze instantly.
"What did you say, kid?" Leona opened her beautiful red eyes, her brow furrowing."I'm dreaming?"
Soren did not flinch from her gaze. Hidden beneath his leather armor was the map detailing the nobles' treason. He knew better than anyone that the aristocrats of the Silvermoon Kingdom were rotten to the core.
Soren stared at Leona and said, "The Crimson Moon won. The Blackstone Warband has fled back to the North. This is a grand victory."
"But it was also a severe act of military disobedience."
"The Kingdom’s orders were to hold the fortress. Any sortie is a violation of orders. To put it bluntly, military disobedience is a form of treason."
"Yet, you opened the gates and led the entire army out. Leona, how do you think the nobles in the Council will handle you? How will they handle the Crimson Moon Knights?"
Slam!
Leona slammed her bottle onto the desk.
Fury surged into her face. She stood up, bracing her arms on the desk, looming over him as she roared, "What kind of horseshit are you talking about?!"
"I won!"
"Orders on the battlefield change in a heartbeat! If we hadn't counterattacked, we’d be dead. If I were still sitting on the defense, this place would have become an Orc slaughterhouse by now!"
"I saved tens of thousands of civilians!"
"I took less than three thousand soldiers to hold off tens of thousands of Blackstone Orc axes—and I won!"
"Which bastard councilor dares to say this merit doesn't count?"
Her chest heaved violently. The sheer pressure of her military aura was enough to make an average officer kneel and tremble on the spot.
But Soren’s expression didn't change at all. If anything, he became even colder.
"Leona, don't be naive."
"Winning doesn't matter. The big players at the top—they care about control."
"People have been dying at Stormbreak Rift for years. No matter how many die, the big shots in the Capital won't feel the sting. But when they issue an order saying the gates must never be opened, and a frontier Commander charges out anyway and wipes out the greatest foreign threat. . ."
"In that moment, in the eyes of those nobles, your nature changed."
Leona’s breathing was ragged as she glared at him.
Soren dissected the situation word by word."A military force with formidable field-combat capabilities, led by an officer who follows her instincts over orders and is completely beyond the control of the Kingdom’s nobility. . ."
"An officer who also happens to hold immense prestige among the civilians and the rank-and-file."
Soren looked up and asked, "How do you think the King and the Council will feel?"
"Compared to the Orcs, your lack of 'controllability' is what will keep them up at night."
Leona opened her mouth, but the rebuttals that were about to burst out caught in her throat. The flickering firelight from the hearth played across her face, highlighting a sudden, deathly paleness.
She had risen from the mud of the lower classes, she understood exactly what he meant. And because she understood, she felt a chill of fear.
Her thigh bumped against the corner of the desk. This Commander, who wouldn't flinch before ten thousand enemies, actually stumbled back a step and collapsed back into her chair.
She knew. The Silvermoon Kingdom had long since rotted to the core.
Seeing her resolve waver, Soren pressed on."In less than a week, you will receive two Royal Envoys and a very shiny appointment letter."
"You saved the fortress. Your merit is monumental. You’ll be awarded the Order of the Purple Briar and a massive bounty of gold."
Leona looked up, her eyes complicated, but she didn't speak.
"And then you’ll be reassigned. You’ll be sent to that capital full of perfume and silk to serve as the Captain of the Royal Guard. You’ll wear a pretty dress and a ceremonial rapier, standing guard for the King every day."
"As for the Crimson Moon Knights who dared to disobey orders with you? They’ll be sent on a suicide mission to be 'expended'."
Leona’s lips were bloodless. She knew that was the optimistic outcome. There were worse fates—fabricated crimes, executions. . .
This recruit, Soren. . . his political insight was terrifying. While everyone else was celebrating, he had already seen the shadow of the coming crisis.
A long silence followed.
"Fuck them!"
Leona grabbed another bottle. But this time, her hand was trembling so much she couldn't even pull the cork. Finally, she grabbed it and smashed the neck against the edge of the desk.
Crash.
The glass shattered. Purple-red wine drenched her hand, dripping onto her white shirt. She tilted her head back and took a jagged, desperate gulp.
"Drink!"
Leona shoved the broken bottle toward Soren, her eyes red with a fierce, desperate light."Stop trying to scare me with politics! At worst, I’ll just drag my feet here! Could the Ministry of War really kill a hero of the realm?"
They were the words of someone bluffing from a position of weakness. She couldn't hide the deep sense of helplessness. If she were reassigned and the knights disbanded, her dead comrades, their suffering, and their entire faith would end up as nothing more than a joke told at a noble’s tea party.
"There is another path besides being a decorative vase, " Soren said suddenly.
Leona snapped her head toward him."What path? Speak!"
The light in Soren’s eyes was as sharp as a blade."Take an even bigger gamble with them."
"The Mist Marshes in the North are a chaotic mess. They were once the lost territories of the Silvermoon Kingdom, now occupied by Orcs."
"Write a formal military pledge. State that the Crimson Moon Knights are willing to die to reclaim the lost lands. That you will lead the entire unit into the Mist Marshes and further north to expand the Kingdom’s borders."
Leona froze.
"Not only that, you give those idiots at the Ministry an offer they can't refuse, " Soren continued."Tell the Council that you don't need a single grain of the Kingdom’s food, a single sword from their smiths, or a single copper coin from their treasury!"
"And within one year, you will reclaim the lost lands, push the defensive line north, and guarantee those nobles new territories and new profits!"
"If you fail, you, Leona, will personally surrender command of the Knights and climb onto the execution stake yourself."
"This way, those nobles will see profit. They’ll allow you to keep leading the Crimson Moon Knights. If you fail, they still get their military power back—it’s just delayed by a year."
When he finished, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Crack.
A spark popped in the fireplace.
Leona was completely stunned. Her drunkenness had vanished. She reached out, as if to feel Soren’s forehead."Soren, have you lost your mind?"
"Reclaim the lost lands? With less than three thousand men? And no logistics or supplies from the Kingdom?"
"Do you have any idea what it takes to maintain a Knight Order? We need iron, magic scrolls, maintenance, food. . . If the Kingdom cuts us off, we couldn't afford to keep this army even if we sold our souls!"
Her logic told her this was absolute suicide. It was more impossible than the battle they had just fought.
Soren didn't laugh. He wasn't being arrogant. He had the [Warlord System]. He didn't need the Kingdom’s trash logistics. He just needed space to "sustain war through war" without being shackled by Silvermoon.
Once they entered the chaos of the Mist Marshes, with the resources marked on the Orcs’ tunnel maps, his System, and the military command skills he had mastered in his past life. . . it was far from impossible.
Soren looked at the dazed, struggling Commander. She was brilliant in the field, but her mind was still locked in the old ways of the Kingdom.
Soren leaned over the desk, his hands pressing down on the wood until his face was barely three inches from Leona’s alcohol-scented breath.
It was an intensely aggressive distance.
The Commander felt the young man’s hot breath on the bridge of her nose.
Soren’s voice was a low growl."There is only one question, my Commander."
"Do you want to go back to that gilded birdcage and be a vase, dancing with some balding Duke every night. . ."
"Or do you want to hold onto the power of the sword?"
Ambition burned in Soren’s eyes, every word carrying the weight of a mountain.
"Do you want to be the woman who—no matter who sits on the throne—no one dares to point a finger at?"
"The Crimson Moon Queen?"
As the last three words fell, Leona fell into a total, heavy silence.
The office was deathly still.