Chapter 3: Revenge

The blood-red eyes of the lord made Homer’s messenger feel a bit afraid, yet he also felt somewhat pleased—this was exactly the effect he wanted to achieve.
The lord of Poznan now resembled a barbarian in a frenzied state, almost completely losing his sanity. His extreme anger left him at a loss as to what to do. Clearly, Lord Komer had succeeded in driving him into such fury that he could no longer think rationally. The lord relied too much on his own judgment and overlooked certain details. How could something like this possibly be documented with written records, given Nisa Ferdinand’s cunning and experience? But at this moment, Lord Ebson seemed to have completely ignored these things that he should not have overlooked.
“Lord Ebson, I’m sorry. Although we are still at war, both I and Lord Komer deeply despise such acts of betrayal by allies. Yet cruel reality forces us to accept these terms. As you can see, the Silesians will receive most of the territorial benefits, including Groningen—their desire for it is simply too strong. In exchange, the Gallics will get the Lundenberg region of Silesia as compensation, while we only get the Tirlins region.”
The messenger skillfully conveyed only part of the information. The seal of the Silesian lord’s palace and Nisa Ferdinand’s signature were absolutely genuine; otherwise, it would have been impossible to deceive Ebson’s keen eyes. However, the lord of Poznan clearly did not notice that there was something wrong with the craftsmanship of the agreement. At the junction between the final signature and seal section and the preceding text, there was a slight unevenness. But such minor differences might not even be noticed under normal circumstances, let alone by Ebson, whose mind was already in a state of high tension. Moreover, this agreement was not fabricated out of thin air; it was completely true compared to the agreement with Silesia. But the Gallics were simply dragged into it. The Silesians’ behavior confirmed the authenticity of the agreement—truth hidden within falsehood, and falsehood containing truth—this was the trick to forging documents.

He took several deep breaths, trying hard to calm his emotions, but Ebson knew he couldn’t. He examined the agreement carefully again, especially the signature and seal—there was absolutely no doubt about them; no one could forge such things. Ebson knew Nissa’s signature as well as his own handwriting. As for the Cilicians, their so-called orc activities and unrest within their territory were clearly just cover-ups for their collusion. That wretched scoundrel! Ebson couldn’t help but curse out loud.

“Lord Ebson, I believe you now understand the situation. Without reinforcements, you cannot stop our army from advancing. If the war continues, this place will become ruins by tomorrow—everything will be destroyed. I doubt you want to see such a beautiful city reduced to ashes. Besides, I think the Cilicians are probably already preparing to strike. Once we capture this place, their army might head straight for Poznan and Groningen—those are their real targets.”

“What are you trying to say?” Overwhelmed by fatigue and despair, Ebson found it hard to think clearly. The other party’s intentions were so obvious, yet he still clung to an unrealistic hope.

“My lord, let’s speak frankly. Poznan can never be as it was before. Neither the Cilicians nor the Gallics ever intended that. If Homer and Poznan acted this way due to hostility, then as allies, the Cilicians and Gallics’ actions are simply contrary to the standards of gentlemen,” the envoy continued, stoking the fire.

Ebson’s temples throbbed as he recalled the Gallics eagerly proposing an alliance against Homer, the Cilicians enthusiastically discussing plans to divide the spoils after defeating Homer, and especially those two obsequious faces of Zelin and Nissa. He felt like a fool, played by those two while unknowingly trusting them wholeheartedly, believing they truly wanted to work together to deal with the threat to their common interests.

And now, the truth is so ugly and cruel—those two guys are probably already waiting with smiles to share the fruits of victory. Allies, what a noble term. Is this really the true meaning of loyal allies? There’s no such thing as nobility; nobility exists only when the temptation isn’t strong enough. There’s no such thing as loyalty; loyalty exists only when the cost of betrayal isn’t high enough. The philosopher’s prophecy playing out in my own life—it’s simply unfair.
“What did Komer send you for? To show off to a loser like me?”
“No, Lord Komer isn’t someone without grace. He regrets taking such actions in a state of hostility. Since Poznan will surely not be as it was before, he means that unnecessary wars and sacrifices are no longer necessary. He wants to convey that if Mr. Ebson provides the necessary cooperation, he will meet all of your reasonable demands.” The messenger tried to use as gentle language as possible to avoid provoking him.
Sitting in pain on his chair, Ebson knew it was irreversible. As the other party said, continuing the war made little sense. Without the help of the Silesians and the tacit cooperation of the Gallics, the Poznan family simply couldn’t withstand those Homerian armies armed with barbarians. The battle of Tirlins had already shattered the confidence of their own army, and now with the enemy at the city’s gates, what sense was there in continuing this war?
It was all because of his own stupidity, and more importantly, because of Nissa and Zelin’s vile nature. No, he wouldn’t let those two guys enjoy everything left behind after his downfall.
“I can agree to Lord Komer’s demands, but I also have my own conditions. Besides my personal necessities, I have one additional condition,” Ebson said through gritted teeth.
“No problem. Lord Komer has authorized me to fulfill any reasonable conditions,” the messenger replied quickly.
“Hmph, absolutely reasonable. Perhaps Lord Komer will even be overjoyed by this,” Ebson’s eyes gleamed with madness.