Chapter 2: He Who Counts Others Will Be Counted Too

“What does Grand Duke Antonescu want me to do?” Komer asked directly after some thought.
Military support seemed a bit premature at the moment. Komer also believed that the Northern Alliance wouldn’t dare to use force to interfere in a country as strong as Bessarabia, as that would only push Bessarabia further toward their side. For now, they were more inclined to use political and diplomatic means to coerce Bessarabia into submission, especially since their own grip on power in Nicomedia was not yet secure. They believed this approach would be more effective.
So what should he do now?
“Lord Komer, I think if we can find ways to demonstrate our close relationship, it will surely help ease the pressure Grand Duke Antonescu is under,” said Meterev, relieved that Komer had agreed to his proposal.
“For example… a marriage with Princess Vyrana?” Komer asked back with a half-smile.
Meterev scratched his head awkwardly and said with a smile, “Lord Komer, do you think Princess Vyrana has wronged you?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant at all. I just feel that someone of Princess Vyrana’s status shouldn’t be involved in such dirty and ugly politics. I prefer her to maintain a pure and peaceful state of mind in our relationship,” Komer replied calmly.
Meterev raised his gaze in surprise, trying to figure out whether Komer was joking or mocking him. But all he saw was sincerity in Komer’s eyes.
Sighing softly, Meterev found himself somewhat puzzled by this young man. Someone who could control the fate of Nicomedia at will, who had crushed powerful figures like Philip, Ebson, Nissa, and Zelin, who had manipulated the deeply entrenched Church of Light into retreating step by step, and who had carved out a domain in the Southern Seas single-handedly—such a person could say such things. It was truly astonishing to Meterev.
“Lord Komer, I’m truly ashamed, but I must say that Princess Vyrana’s marriage is ultimately up to her. Perhaps Grand Duke Antonescu or the country of Bessarabia may bring her some troubles and pressure, but I don’t think that’s the deciding factor. We certainly wouldn’t trade a girl’s happiness for anything.”

Komer nodded in satisfaction. Whatever Mendelev and Antonescu behind him truly intended, at least they had made their stance clear in words. With Lenta already existing, Komer didn’t want another Vyrana to appear—that would be a disrespectful insult to Vyrana and also add to his own burdens.
“Very good, Mr. Mendelev. I’m glad to hear you say that,” Komer nodded. “As for what measures we can take between us to deal with those annoying folks, I think we have plenty of methods, don’t you agree?”
Mendelev’s mood lightened as well. His words clearly meant they agreed to his proposal. Now, what needed to be considered was how to counter the pressure from the Northern Alliance.
“Lord Komer, what do you think would be the safest approach?”
“Heh, Mr. Mendelev, you’re really impatient. Is Transylvania really that afraid of the Northern Alliance?” Komer teased him slightly. “Whether it’s the Knossians or the Atticans, they’re just a bunch of feisty but weak dogs. They don’t have the boldness to openly interfere in a country outside their alliance. You don’t need to worry too much. I plan to give them a taste of their own medicine—for example, I could suggest that Transylvania hold joint military exercises with us, or we might warn Grand Duke Antonescu not to change policies under external pressure. Or we could create some rumors, saying I’m actively pursuing Miss Vyrana. What do you think?”
“Lord Komer, do you think these tactics will work?” Mendelev frowned. Apart from the first one, which sounded somewhat plausible, Transylvania was separated from Komer’s territory by Kakiya’s lands. Although Kakiya’s influence was now weak, it still served as a buffer zone between three powerful forces. None of them would tolerate one side unilaterally changing this fragile balance—even if Komer’s backing was strong, it seemed not enough at the moment.

“Hehe, it seems Mr. Mendeleev still doesn’t trust me enough.” Komer wasn’t bothered; it was understandable. “It’s fine. I think Mr. Mendeleev will soon be reassured. I don’t want to hide anything. I’m preparing for a military operation—a military operation that will astonish many people. If anyone still thinks my plans for military exercises in Bessarabia are nothing but empty boasts, they’ll soon shut up.”
“Oh?” Mendeleev was shocked. “Lord Komer, you’re planning another military operation?”
“Why not? My orcs and barbarian warriors long for battle at all times, for they know only through battle can they prove themselves and earn a better life. Everything they have now comes from their victories in battle!” Komer shrugged, his expression growing even more fierce. “Mr. Mendeleev, my territory is different from Bessarabia, especially the Caucasus. Anyone who ignores this will pay a heavy price.”
Mendeleev ended the conversation with Komer feeling both hopeful and worried. The confidence and ferocity in Komer’s words sent chills down his spine. Anyone who ignored him would pay a price—there were already many examples. And anyone who tried to exploit him might regret it for life.
What about Navarina? What should be done? For the first time, Mendeleev lost confidence in his own strategy, which he had once been quite confident about.