Chapter 94

In the shadowy depths of the Liberian Commercial Federation, the venomous snakes that nested there murmured. The battle over the Celta Peninsula did not proceed as the Federation Parliament had planned. Indeed, the territory of the Principality of Mayer had been ravaged by war, and the elite forces dispatched by Haiselk had also suffered losses. Creist, which had an disproportionate amount of territory, lost one of its Three Heroes and the Grand Knight Gran. In that regard, it was a satisfying outcome.

However, it was not the best outcome they desired. The commercial federation, with its shallow resources, provided substantial support to the Kingdom of Creist, which had a weak foundation. Compared to the considerable expenses, the results achieved were rather modest. The forces were worn down, but they shied away from a decisive battle, and the main field armies disengaged without entangling each other, maintaining their original form. In the end, the Lihazen Knights failed to achieve their objective and fled back to their country.

Many who had been observing the battle from the opposite shore felt disheartened. Some were even physically and mentally drained. However, as respectable citizens of the federation, they quickly recovered. It was easy to find reasons to rest, so laziness must be despised. If one indulges in the stagnation of the status quo, the only outcome is decline. This was an unchanging fact, whether in matters of love or political strife.

In the capital of the Commercial Federation, the largest city of the northern countries, in the den where the snakes coiled, the next move was about to be made.

"So, who will be the overall commander?"

Hugo, the Foreign Minister of the Liberian Commercial Federation, asked his assistant, Enoch.

"Waughen Logmayer, who has long served as the commander of the Haiselk Front Army."

In response to the assistant's unhesitant answer, Hugo twisted the corners of his mouth. It was a thin smile that could be interpreted as either a smile or a burn scar.

"It depends on how you say it."

The shadow of dissatisfaction in the Foreign Minister's words prompted Enoch to voice his concern.

"Are you saying he has a habit of retreating?"

"Well, let's not say it's a habit of retreating, but—his rear is certainly heavy. The commander has not been proactive in his approach to the empire. It's hard to accept the choice of personnel, but there is no one to replace him."

Hugo, who claimed to be a moderate, did not think highly of the commander supported by the moderates. The Foreign Minister had always advocated for preventive measures against the empire. Leaving a beast that knows no satisfaction at its feet is unacceptable from a security perspective.

If there is a stumbling stone on the road, it should be removed; if there is a rotten tree, it should be cut down. That's all there is to it. Hugo, who only wished for what was right as a human, was seen as a hardliner. What a tragedy. It was deeply regrettable.

"Regardless of the internal situation, the pose of national unity—"

"I understand. Minor differences of opinion should be swallowed in times of crisis, right?"

Differences of opinion. The moderates—Waughen's strategy, if spoken for, would be to manipulate and tighten the noose through a blockade and the use of force. If they explode, they will be lured into key areas and whittled down. There is some logic to it. However, they will not give in so easily. They will gather their strength and inevitably cross the wall of the state. The fallen Canoa and Ferius were bad examples.

Therefore, Hugo aimed for a decisive surrender. They must be forced to submit by force, for they do not understand reason. Such individuals, overlapping and tempered, formed the state of the Haiselk Empire.

"The enemy is the weakened Haiselk Army, but a wounded beast is a terrifying thing. This is not the time to be concerned with factions or face."

Even the Commercial Federation, which had the strength to be the leader of the northern countries, could not escape the logic of the organization. The larger the body, the more difficult it is to unify the will. It would only show its true value in a crisis that shakes the country, such as the defense of the mainland. However, the moderates were unusually enthusiastic. It would be impolite not to take their hand gently and dance with them.

"Even the Mayer Navy, which was confined to the Celta Peninsula, has shifted to a reckless offensive."

When he received a report mixed with screams from the naval liaison, even Hugo doubted his ears.

"To be aiming for a fleet battle, clinging to the peninsula and fearing losses. And the boldness of sending warships to the ice road. What a remarkable transformation, truly detestable."

The naval fleet, a relic of the Canoa era. The current Mayer does not have the ability to replenish the fleet it once boasted. Therefore, it lacked considerable freedom, but it had overturned its operations at the last moment. Rita Mayer, who was once a girl easy to subdue during the alliance of four countries, had transformed into a monarch worthy of the northern countries, having survived the turmoil of war.

"They are influenced by the Haiselk Empire in a good way. That's why giving them time and leeway is a foolish strategy. Their madness spreads easily."

"It has a nature as bad as an epidemic. The navy must feel quite uncomfortable."

The defeat in the fleet battle that resulted from targeting the Mayer Navy as a hypothetical enemy. The loss of ships at a ratio of one to two was a clear failure in anyone's eyes.

Moreover, a difference emerged after the end of the naval battle. Compared to the Liberian Navy, which had to sortie from a distant location, the Mayer Navy was near its base, making it easy to tow damaged ships. Some even failed to scuttle and were captured. Even a child who has finished playing would still diligently clean up.

"They were a group with a large ego and attitude, but now they are as meek as dwarfs, I hear."

"Perhaps it is good medicine for them."

"Good medicine in excess becomes poison. After a period of tightening, loosen the grip and show them a way out."

"Sell them a favor and use them."

"Enoch, your words are harsh. It is only natural to extend a hand to a compatriot in a crisis."

Hugo, whose burn scar twitched, declared with a loving smile. Politics is not just about bringing people down. It is also important to lend a hand to the weak.

"Well, the weak Creist is collapsing a bit early, but the preparations are in place."

"The timing is right."

Hugo, who had discarded his thin smile, declared as if convincing himself.

"Begin the invasion of the Haiselk Empire... This time, we will crush them. Completely."

Thus, the Haiselk invasion operation by the Liberian Commercial Federation was ordered.

◆

Not everyone was obedient to the struggle between nations. Oban, who had been a fisherman on Lake Celta for many years, was one such person. Although classified as a former Ferius, his nationality was merely a matter of convenience, as he fished in the lake areas of the Ferius Kingdom and the Principality of Mayer. His dependence on and sense of belonging to the state were weak, and he had only decided to make the Principality of Mayer his home on land after being driven from his bed by the expansion of the magic territory following the great upheaval.

The Celta fisherman was in a life-and-death relationship with the carnivorous fish and monsters of the vast lake. Oban was a peculiar type among the reckless fishermen, a stubborn and inflexible old man who had not raised a successor.

Living and dying with the lake and his boat. It was a simple and straightforward way of life. A lifelong active old man who did not mind loneliness, but the increase in fishermen due to food shortages had disrupted his life. The old man, who had only been targeting prey, was now being targeted by young men who wanted to become his disciples.

Oban literally kicked away the disciples who clung to him. He knew from experience that soft young men with swollen buttocks would run away with their tails between their legs. This was a common story.

If there was a miscalculation on the part of the old man, who had accepted even the great upheaval, it was that they and their families had been driven from their land and hometown. A drowning person clings to anything. This was something Oban knew all too well from experience. Day after day, the old man and the young men engaged in a battle of wits, and a month passed.

On a clear day when the bottom of the lake could be seen, the old man put the young men on his boat. It was not because he had been moved by the enthusiasm of the new sprouts who had been begging him every day, but simply a whim. Even the worst villains and sinners sometimes perform small acts of kindness in their lives. It just happened to coincide with his mood.

Oban did not cut corners in his work. The young men on the boat were literally fighting for their lives. Fists and curses flew simultaneously, but gradually the number of them decreased. Two years later, the boat moved like a single living creature. Whether they wanted it or not, the old fisherman had become the captain of a small boat with a crew of three. Fellow fishermen who knew the circumstances teased him, saying that the old man who loved solitude was now longing for it.

The fishing boat operated by Oban moved away from the shallow waters and shores where competition was fierce and made the open waters its new fishing grounds. Of course, a small boat that could be blown away by the wind was dangerous. Still, the relationship with Lake Celta was one of life and death. If he were to die and return to the water, Oban would not mind. The kids on board would probably not like it, though.

The surface of the water is calmer than the land. Conflicts over fishing grounds do occur, but the brutal killings that take place on land do not. Most of the time, it ends with threats and curses. Even if a minor incompatibility or unfortunate misunderstanding leads to a brawl, it usually results in a few injuries or deaths. Compared to the people on land who kill and are killed by their own kind, and fight over land, it is a minor matter.

"A little more to the right, right... Okay, slow down."

The slight difference in the captain's voice and the rhythm of his hand movements, the rowers adjusted the blades of their oars and changed direction. The short boat, about three lengths long, gradually slowed down. In contrast to the stationary boat, the apprentices' lungs were gasping for air, and they were breathing rapidly.

The small sail, one of the sources of power, was folded, and the mast stood like a leafless dead tree. Oban, who had passed through the central part of the boat where the mast and rowers were, moved smoothly to the stern. He extended the grappling hook he had with him and caught the shadow floating on the surface.

The captain, who was not bothered by the unstable footing, pulled the object toward the boat. The grappling hook, which had become as familiar as his hands and feet, did not let go of what it had once caught.

"Pull it up."

It was a minimal amount of words, but the young men understood the old man's intention. They left their posts and grabbed the floating object that was alongside the short boat.

"It's heavier than it looks."

"What's inside, Captain?"

In contrast to the time when they were rowing and panting, the young men said with shining eyes.

"I don't know. But it's liquid."

Normally, under Oban's instructions, they would cast their nets and prepare for the battle with the monsters that would come. However, today's catch was a bit different. Three days after the intense fleet battle that stirred the water, it brought blessings to both humans and monsters after much destruction and sacrifice.

The rescuers who were not recovered and the bodies of those who drowned became food for the monsters, and the wood and supplies that were discarded floated on the lake. Even the fishermen who usually played in the shallows aimed for the floating objects and headed for the open sea. The remains of the ships and the equipment of the soldiers could be sold to the country, and the contents of the barrels and wooden boxes could be valuable. It was like a treasure hunt.

"Open it up."

The young men, who had been waiting for this, used a hand ax to pry open the lid of the wooden box. The straw used as a cushion was wet and stuck everywhere. When they dug through it, they found a cluster of bottles. Some were broken and leaking, but half of them were still intact. The unique scent immediately revealed their contents.

"Wow, it's rum from the archipelago countries!!"

"It came in through the Flame Emperor Dragon Corridor."

Ignoring the excited young men, Oban reached out and declared.

"It's different, but it's still a blessing from Lake Celta."

The captain pulled the cork out of the bottle and tasted the blessing of the lake. The mixture of sweetness and bitterness, the sweet scent that rose through his nose, and the alcohol that slid down his throat. His stomach grew warm, and Oban exhaled with satisfaction.

"Hmm—"

"You're so unfair!!"

"Captain, it's okay for you! I want to drink too!"

Following the old fisherman who had taken a shortcut, the two young men drank from the bottles. Half of the boat's hold was already filled with recovered items. They had received an unexpected gift. As a result of the fishing, it was nothing to complain about. When the cold bodies were restored by the night wind, the surface of the water rippled.

"... Take up your weapons."

The pleasant atmosphere was blown away by a