Green finally agreed to Her Highness the Princess’s invitation for the sake of a bag of silver coins, traveling all the way from the tavern town to the Grand Fortress on the outskirts.
That towering bastion stood on the border, guarding the safety of hundreds of thousands in the surrounding lands, even securing the entire western frontier of the Empire.
Whoosh—
A bleak, chilly wind barged unseasonably into the crisp, clear autumn day, bringing an unwelcome touch of disharmony to what should have been pleasant weather.
Clad in a simple shirt, yet still faintly exuding a trace of noble bearing, Her Highness strode at the front, leading Green and another straight towards that fortress radiating an eerie aura.
“So this is the legendary western stronghold, the Unyielding Bastion?”
Green gazed at the grand, imposing fortress with a touch of curiosity, examining it carefully.
But after only a few glances, Green realized something was off about the fortress.
The towering city walls carried an air of might, yet on the thick stone surfaces, traces of decay could still be seen, with moss creeping across the walls, subtly eroding their original grandeur.
On either side of the road, the warning beacons that should have been constantly blinking were all dim and lifeless; even the garrisoned soldiers, who ought to be standing at attention, were instead goofing around, laughing and horsing about, showing no sign of military discipline.
This fortress feels… a little off, doesn’t it?
Wasn’t it said to have guarded the Empire’s borders for three hundred years? In countless folk tales, it was a symbol of the Empire’s sacred, inviolable authority. Where was the legendary Unyielding Bastion?
Why did it look so much like some mountain bandits’ lair?
In the real world, Green had at most gathered some related military intelligence in reports, but had no actual military experience.
But in his second simulated life, Green had commanded more than a few wars.
“Seems those rumors at the tavern were true. The so-called commander’s title given to Her Highness really is one big trap.”
Observing all the way, Green slowly walked towards the fortress.
But as he neared the fortress, the situation not only failed to improve—it got worse.
He even saw, right by the fortress gates, a few merchants setting up shop and hawking all sorts of wares, utterly unbothered by the fact that a mere civilian was wandering into a “military stronghold.”
And the soldiers, boisterous and rowdy, paid no mind to the significance of their uniforms, pulling out their wallets and haggling openly with the vendors.
“Hey, Captain Andy, that batch of sausages you sold us last time was about to rot! You’re not going to cheat us again this time, are you?”
A burly man with a scruffy beard, reeking of alcohol and looking more like a tavern regular than a soldier, slapped the merchant’s shoulder. “After eating those sausages, I had to stay in the infirmary for three days! If not for the lieutenant, ha…”
He fixed the merchant with a hostile glare.
“Aiya, sir, what are you saying? Even if you gave me triple the courage, I wouldn’t dare cheat you!”
The merchant grinned obsequiously, bowing his head slightly in apology while deftly lifting a few barrels of ale. “How about this—today’s wheat ale, I’ll give you a discount as an apology?”
“Tch!” Though the burly man looked displeased, he seemed to be wary of something. After a moment’s thought, he grudgingly let his hand fall and muttered, “Alright, fine, but it’s all because of that damn Quartermaster, selling off our supplies straight to the city’s guilds! He’s gonna work us grunts to death!”
“Exactly, exactly, but…” The merchant smiled broadly as he took the coin pouch from the soldier, glancing curiously as he asked, “Didn’t your fortress get a new commander? Isn’t it Her Highness herself?”
“Didn’t the big shots call it quits?” The merchant’s eyes darted, voice lowering.
“Quit? The Princess?”
As if hearing a joke, the burly man sneered and waved his hand. “You don’t really take that exiled failure as a real commander, do you? Just a sixteen-year-old girl?”
“But still, she’s royalty—”
The merchant pressed on.
“Heh, an exiled princess stripped of inheritance rights, can you even call her royalty anymore?”
The burly man crossed his arms, saying smugly, “I’m telling you, Captain Andy, just let it go. You didn’t see how Colonel Rayne spoke to the Princess yesterday!”
With that, the man put on a deep, imposing tone and spoke word by word: “Your Highness, what you say makes perfect sense, but with this year’s military budget cut, our brothers haven’t been paid in months. To launch a so-called disciplinary reform at a time like this…”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be wise.”
At this, the burly man’s face shone with glee, as if savoring the awkwardness of Her Highness being humiliated.
Standing by the fortress, Green heard all this and glanced curiously at the Princess ahead.
He saw that Her Highness Theresa’s face remained unchanged, as if the topic of their conversation wasn’t her at all.
“Let’s go.”
Theresa’s thin clothing fluttered in the cold wind, like a rootless waterweed, swaying helplessly through the storm.
Yet she pressed on into the fortress with unwavering steps, leaving the gossiping and mocking behind her.
Green followed quietly behind her.
The two of them entered unchallenged, not even stopped for questioning as they slipped into the fortress.
Inside, soldiers wandered everywhere in groups of three or five.
Some gossiped eagerly about the latest scandals; others were openly gambling with dice; a few bold officers even had scantily clad, heavily painted women draped over their arms.
What kind of military camp was this?
“Your Highness.”
Only after they’d passed through the main hall and ascended the red-carpeted stairs to the second-floor officers’ area did someone finally recognize their identities.
An old man with a thick white beard, aged face but still upright and sharp in his spotless uniform and polished boots, strode up to Theresa and snapped off a crisp salute.
“You’ve finally returned. Colonel Rayne and I were both worried about you.”
Green glanced at the shining gold stars on the old man’s chest.
A general?
That must be the fortress’s deputy commander, General Martin.
Green of course knew of the widely praised “Uncle Martin”—the one everyone in town gave a thumbs-up whenever his name was mentioned.
Upright, fair, beloved by the people, a noble who spoke for the commoners, yet had gone years without promotion…
“Colonel Rayne?”
Hearing the name of the very man who’d mocked her in front of everyone yesterday, Theresa’s otherwise impassive face finally flickered.
“Imagine that—he was actually concerned about my safety?”
Theresa took a deep breath, struggling to keep her composure. “Never mind, Mr. Martin. Let’s go to the Council Hall to discuss the issue of grain reserves—the Quartermaster has gone too far.”
“Colonel Rayne, he…” Uncle Martin gave a wry smile, as if racking his brains to mediate between the two, but after a while, he simply couldn’t think of anything to say.
“He has his own concerns, too.” At last, Uncle Martin could only offer this bland summary.
“Oh my, isn’t this our noble and esteemed Princess, our great Commander herself?”
Uncle Martin had barely finished when a burly, stubbly-faced man, swaying with a wineglass in hand, staggered up to the Princess.
“Didn’t you say you were going to talk with the Grain Guild about supplies? Why did you come slinking back alone—oh, wait, I heard you brought someone, uh, what was it?”
The rough man shot a glance at Green beside Theresa and drawled, “Oh, the singer’s back?”
“Hmph, so all that nice talk you gave in the mess yesterday was just lies?”
The burly man downed his glass, wine dripping down his dirty uniform and over the three shining silver stars on his chest.
Colonel?
Green pondered silently. Between Uncle Martin’s earlier words and this man’s own, Green easily pieced together his identity.
Colonel Rayne?
“…” After Rayne’s sarcastic remarks, Theresa retorted coldly, “Cultivating personal hobbies during downtime isn’t a breach of discipline. But Colonel Rayne, openly disobeying orders and drinking on duty… Uncle Martin, what does military law say about that?”
After listening to their icy dispute, Uncle Martin sighed wordlessly and glanced at Green, his eyes flickering with some unknown thought.
“Hey, pretty boy over there.”
Seeing Theresa bring up military law, Colonel Rayne was undeterred, striding over to Green and boldly saying, “I hear you’re some kind of bard? The Princess hired you to sing?”
“Heh, if you think you’ve latched onto a high branch, you’re dead wrong. Our Princess here has a nickname in the capital, you know what it is?”
Not waiting for Green to reply, Colonel Rayne pressed on.
“The Caged Bird.”
Colonel Rayne grinned mockingly, pointing at Theresa. “A little bird who can’t live without its gilded cage—pretty, but totally helpless.”
“How about this—rather than tagging along with a princess who’s lost her claim to the throne and could die mysteriously any day, why not stick with me?”
Colonel Rayne crossed his arms, saying confidently, “At least you’d have a bite to eat. Well, what do you say?”
Green smiled slightly. “Sorry, Colonel, but I’m a stickler for principle. Since I already have an employer, I don’t switch easily.”
“And besides…”
Green drew out his words, glancing at Theresa—her face impassive, but her fists tightly clenched and whitening—before continuing in a relaxed tone, “Her Highness Theresa sincerely invited me at a rate of twenty silver a night.”
“Twenty silver? Heh, enough to keep a pretty boy, but can’t even manage supplies? Some commander you are…”
Colonel Rayne shot Green a scornful look, sarcasm thick in his voice.
“Whatever. Guys like you, dreaming of instant success, I can’t be bothered to advise you.”
He turned as if to leave without another word.
Thud, thud.
Just as his figure was about to disappear from view, an officer burst into the second-floor office.
“General Martin, bad news!”
The officer clutched a communication crystal, ignoring the highest-ranking commander as he rushed straight to the deputy and presented it with both hands.
“Why the panic?” Uncle Martin took the crystal curtly and asked, “What happened?”
“The outposts—our outposts 8, 9, and 14 in District Eleven have all fallen to the barbarians. According to the latest intel, this wasn’t just a normal raid—there are a lot of them this time!”
“How many is ‘a lot’? Be specific!”
Uncle Martin’s calm expression suddenly darkened. He stepped over and grabbed the communication crystal.
“Outpost 008 reporting to HQ: Barbarians invading—exact numbers unclear, but at least ten thousand! Please prepare yourselves!”
Kill——
From the crystal came deafening shouts of battle.
Thud, thud, thud.
Bloody, mangled images filled everyone’s eyes.
“This outpost has fallen—repeat, fallen. All fourteen garrison soldiers have died for the nation…”
The soldier, having given up all resistance, stared blankly at the crystal and offered a final salute.
Bang!
In the distance, a magi-gunshot echoed, blasting the soldier’s head into pulp.
A few hulking, shirtless men—skin light green, ugly faces daubed with tattoos—strode into the tower, glanced at the crystal, then crushed it in their grasp.
Zzzzz——
No more sound came from the crystal.
Silence.
Everyone on the spacious second floor fell silent; only the raucous sounds of revelry from the oblivious soldiers below echoed mockingly through the fortress, as disaster loomed ever closer.
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