Chapter 8: Clouds of War

Flandre had hardly ever had any troops stationed there, even after the Gdańsk Fortress was rebuilt following a smooth handover. It functioned more as a tax collection point than a true fortress, with just a few tax collectors serving as its “masters”—a situation that persisted until the arrival of the Rock Legion and the Minglan Knights.

Over two thousand people quickly filled the Gdańsk Fortress to capacity. If Flandre hadn’t been notified in advance to make some logistical preparations, such a sudden influx would have caused quite a problem.

Ilot stood thoughtfully on the walls of the Gdańsk Fortress. Its walls were said to be much thinner than those of the original fortress, but as a stronghold along the path from the lands of mortals to those of the barbarians, it still played a crucial role. Ilot believed that with a formidable army like the Rock Legion stationed there, the barbarians would likely have to pay a heavy price just to retake the fortress.

Sometimes, Ilot felt pity for these barbarians—a large and strong group yet tightly constrained by humans, dwarves, and harsh natural conditions in the Cordillera Wasteland. Day after day, year after year, they launched attacks southward in an attempt to break free from these constraints. But no matter how hard they tried, no matter how glorious their past achievements might have been, they could only retreat back to the wasteland, silently healing their wounds.

Komer once said that a race or nation’s desire for a better life is always just and unstoppable. The question is how much they are willing to sacrifice.

In Ilot’s eyes, these barbarians were undoubtedly the most tragic group. Now, their tragedy was compounded by the desolation stemming from their ignorance. In their pursuit of a better life, and due to differing paths and methods to achieve it, this race was forced into internal strife, with Ilot playing a role in fueling that conflict.

Seeing Ilot standing alone on the walls, gazing at the darkening sky in the north, Drago’s enthusiasm cooled slightly. Having such a war was something Drago and his brothers had longed for. Although not everyone in the Rock Legion could benefit from this opportunity, it was still enough to satisfy Drago greatly.

However, Lord Komer was vague about the intentions behind this southern campaign—what exact goal he had in mind was likely only known to Ilot, who served as the commander. Dragoemo really wanted to know the bottom line of this war; he didn’t want to travel such a long distance just to serve as a threat or deterrent—such a trivial game was utterly meaningless.
“Mr. Ilot, what are you doing here? Is the scenery nice?”
These tasteless barbarians didn’t even know how to start a conversation; such straightforward questions were hardly interesting. Ilot glanced at the half-orc commander, who seemed very enthusiastic. “Scenery? Not really. I’m just thinking about how we should fight this war—when and how to win it.”
“Hehe, Mr. Ilot, that’s exactly what I wanted to ask. Lord Komer didn’t tell me what our goals and purposes are for this war. He only said that some disobedient mountain folk need to be taught a lesson, but who and to what extent remains unclear. It seems only you know what we need to do. Could you tell me where our stopping line is?”
“Stopping line?” Ilot paused, as if thinking. “Komer didn’t mention any stopping line. He only told me the minimum goal—what we must achieve at the very least in this campaign in Flanders.”
Dragoemo was overjoyed and couldn’t contain his excitement. “Mr. Ilot, my understanding is that we only have a starting point for the war, while the end point depends on our results?”
“Mm, roughly that’s the idea. These mountain folk have complex races, yet each has their own ulterior motives. All we need to do now is watch and see how they fight among themselves, to what extent they can go. We’ll intervene only when necessary, and our intervention must achieve our goals.” After thinking for a moment, Ilot added, “I hope these guys can fight even more fiercely.”
“I’m really looking forward to it. Only by crushing these foolish mountain folk can we prove that our Rockhold Regiment is not only impregnable in defense but also unstoppable in offense,” said Dragoemo, taking a deep breath and grinning widely.
“I hope we can all witness that. By the way, have we sent out our scouts?”

“They’ve already been sent out. The guys from the Ghost Monkey Corps and the Minglan Knight Order have been itching to fight. I guess the people from the Karo and Kabo tribes should also be in touch with us by now.”
“Dragumo, we can’t trust those guys. Of course, they’ll try every means to pull us into the battlefield as soon as possible. But Komer has already warned us not to intervene casually—we need to step in at the most appropriate and critical moment.” A smile appeared on Ilot’s lips. “Once we get involved, I think the war will end in just a few days.”
By the time Nicocia’s army entered the Flanders Valley to take over defense duties, the clouds of war over the South Cordillera Wasteland had already gathered thickly. The strong reactions from the Karon and Kabo tribes received full support from the Three-Tooth Tribe, while the joint actions of the Three-Wave Tribe were met with response from the Karo Tribe. Conflicts in the buffer zones originally inhabited by those smaller tribes quickly escalated and soon turned into a war between two opposing groups.
From initial skirmishes to both sides deliberately sending in regular troops to fight, they quickly realized there was no room for retreat in this war. Whoever backed down would face utter defeat and a miserable winter, while only by defeating the other side and forcing it to submit could they gain everything they needed.