Chapter 6: murderous Intent

Like a gust of wind sweeping away the gloom covering a veil, a hint of joy appeared on Eve’s worried face, but it was instantly drowned back by a faint melancholy.
“Komer, what do you mean by this?”
“Nothing much. I just hope you’ll go out more and see the world. I’m more at ease knowing Grace is with you. The war in Flanders is chaotic, and things there may not be as favorable. If you’re interested, it would be best to travel to the Southern Seas. I think Sifnos Island will broaden your horizons greatly.”
Komer didn’t want to reveal too much. The girl’s pride needed to be preserved. Though such unnecessary pride often became a huge obstacle between two people who wanted to get closer, forcing it aside would only cause greater trouble. Komer didn’t want to rush things.
Eve felt somewhat disappointed. The subtle hints from him didn’t fully satisfy her. Her deep desires and outward restraint put her in a difficult dilemma. She didn’t want to avoid anyone, but she also had to admit that given Komer’s current status, it was impossible to expect much. Yet the fact that he had expressed such views already made things quite clear.
Eve nodded silently, saying nothing more. Pressuring others too much wasn’t her style. She knew Komer was in a difficult position. As he climbed higher and higher, his words and actions could no longer fully reflect his true intentions. Often, he had to consider the group he represented. Sometimes, for the sake of the majority, he had to sacrifice certain things, even if it seemed immoral or unacceptable from certain perspectives.
“Eve, I just want to say one thing: in my eyes, you and Grace are both flawless and irreplaceable. You don’t need to worry about other things or people. Eve is Eve—no one else. But I often can’t act entirely according to my own heart’s desires. I can’t focus only on myself. I hope you can understand that. All you need to know is that you don’t need to accommodate or consider anyone else.”
Komer’s gentle gaze slowly penetrated Eve’s heart, quietly melting her frozen heart bit by bit.

“Hurry up, you idiots! Even the pigs on Volt Mountain are better than you! With your current state, do you still think you can completely defeat those damned barbarians?! Tobre, and Huli, have you two gone mad? Get your troops to line up right away and get ready to disembark. If you and your soldiers can’t stand in formation on the dock in half an hour, I swear I’ll make you and your men serve as reserves for life!”
“Shegul, where’s your troop? Look at that weakling face of yours! Has a few days at sea turned those invincible half-orcs into a pile of trash? Get your soldiers to stand in formation right now! Those who can’t stand, throw them into the sea so the sharks on the shore can see if this trash can fill their stomachs!”
“Hulema, I’m going to strangle you alive! Look at what your soldiers are doing! Have you never seen a dwarf woman before? Beat them hard! Damn it, after this battle, whether they’re dwarves or barbarians, their women will be yours! But if you fail, I’ll cut off your head and use it as a urinal!”
Vulgar language filled the entire dock. It was like a boiling pot—dozens of large transport ships were berthing. Although several docks had already been cleared for this massive fleet, it was clear the passengers hadn’t fully adjusted yet.
Dragumo glanced awkwardly at Ilot, who had his arms crossed. Ilot’s mocking expression was evident, with a smirk on his lips, which made Dragumo feel extremely uncomfortable. But who had asked him to boast earlier? These idiots, who usually had mouths as tough as iron, had made him look so foolish. Once they reached their destination, he would make them pay dearly for this humiliation.
“Dragumo, does your troop need someone to tighten their minds because they’ve been idle for too long? This performance isn’t what you described to me.”
“Uh, Mr. Ilot, I’m sorry. It’s probably because of the long sea voyage that my men are having trouble adjusting for now. I promise in three days—no, by tomorrow—they’ll be just as good as they were in the Caucasus.” A blush spread across Dragumo’s cheeks.

“I hope what you say is true. Look at the performance of the soldiers in the Ghost Monkey Regiment—discipline! Discipline! We are an army, not bandits! In this regard, the warriors of the Rock Regiment are already at a disadvantage. Remember, this is Corfu Port in Smyrna, not Maastricht or Flanders.” Ilot spoke calmly but with firmness.

Dragumo nodded emphatically. “Mr. Ilot, rest assured. We will not bring shame to the reputation of our half-orcs and the Rock Regiment.”

“Good. I have no doubt about the bravery and valor of the half-orc warriors and the soldiers of the Rock Regiment, but I still must emphasize discipline. We still need to march across half of Smyrna and Iberia. Komer doesn’t want us to cause any trouble before reaching our destination, though we’re not afraid of trouble.” For the first time, Ilot felt the authority of being a commander, which gave him a sense of pride. Although Dragumo’s performance on the battlefield was admirable, Ilot still hoped he would be stricter with the half-orc warriors.

“Thank you, Mr. Ilot, for the reminder. I assure you that my men will not cause any trouble.” Mentioning Komer filled Dragumo with respect. Komer’s actions only deepened Dragumo’s admiration—even the mighty barbarians could be manipulated by him and ultimately forced to kneel at his feet. This was more convincing than anything else.

After the initial chaos, the fleet began to dock in an orderly manner. Amidst shouts and the neighing of horses, 2,000 soldiers from the Rock Regiment, 500 archers from the Ghost Monkey Regiment, along with over 300 knights from the Minglan Knights Order and dozens of enigmatic Black Flame Knights stepped onto the shore from the ships. They gathered in groups according to their affiliations—this was the entire force of Komer’s southern expeditionary army.

Due to the vastness of the Cordillera Wasteland and to avoid being discovered by other barbarian tribes, Komer chose to transport troops by sea to Flanders. Of course, this required coordination with the Iberians. Fortunately, Iberia was now allied with Smyrna, so it wasn’t difficult to obtain permission for the Caucasian armies to enter Flanders.

The frequent movements of the barbarians kept the Iberians on high alert at all times. Although the buffer zone of Flanders had been left to Komer, the Iberians were well aware that if Flanders were truly seized by the barbarians, northwestern Iberia would face immense pressure. The barbarians could then form a coordinated front with them in the Melan River Valley to the northeast, which would be a nightmare for Iberia. Preserving Flanders from falling to avoid being attacked from two sides became the Iberians’ top priority, making it tolerable to allow Flanders’ military forces to be involved in Nicomedia. Thus, when Komer proposed sending troops to defend Flanders’ security, the Iberians agreed to his request after careful consideration, though they imposed limits on the number of troops. Komer himself was unable to field a strong army; three thousand men was already the limit. If it weren’t for the Minglan Knights, who had finally been assembled by Fran to be trained in battle, Komer had even planned to send only two thousand men to help the Karon and Kabo tribes settle their internal conflicts. Compared to the chaos of the Rockhold Regiment, the performance of the knights stood out. Whether it was the Blackflame Knights or the Minglan Knights, as soon as they stepped onto land from the ships, both groups demonstrated their own distinct styles. The Blackflame Knights were solemn and calm, like blades hidden in sheaths—cold and unassuming, with their all-black armor making everyone who approached them feel oppressed. In contrast, the Minglan Knights were like raging fires, their fierce and bold demeanor a result of long-suppressed energy finally finding an outlet to vent. Their violence carried a hint of provocation, especially in front of the dwarves around the docks, where they displayed the unique style of northern knights. “Are these the armies from the north?” “Hmm, I can’t tell much difference between those half-orcs and barbarians. Aside from their armor, they could easily be the same kind of people.” “Half-orcs aren’t scary, but look at those two groups—look at their demeanor. Those are true warriors.” “No, those people aren’t warriors. Warriors are born for war. Those people lack the spirit of charging forward fearlessly and sacrificing themselves. They might be stronger than those half-orc soldiers, but they’re not warriors.” “Then what are they?” “They must be those ordinary people used by society to uphold its order—what they call knights.”

“It’s truly incredible that such a warrior wasn’t born for battle.”
“Humans are more determined to build and destroy themselves than to do anything else; it’s both their way of burying themselves and their driving force for progress.”
The two dwarves stood far away in the attic behind the dock, observing everything that was happening there.