Nevertheless, to avoid falling prey to a clandestine assassination—or, as they themselves claimed, out of reverence for their late patron and a concern for the public good—Raulbis chose a tactical retreat. He acceded to Desiano becoming their lord. The people maintained a veneer of respect for the young ruler, which allowed the populace of Feriatino to enjoy a brief, lingering interval of peace.

　　Young Desiano was inevitably swayed by the whims of his mother and the powerful courtiers. Other officials, driven by their own narrow interests, remained indifferent to their boy-lord, leaving Desiano utterly sequestered from the teachings of the ancient sages and the wisdom of statecraft—trapped in a state of humiliating isolation.

　　The predatory barbarians, ever watchful, once again descended upon the riddled and crumbling frontier walls. Their cavalry struck deep with newfound audacity, pushing their forces as far as the northern banks. They even arrogantly proclaimed their intent to sit upon the throne of the Willem King and collect gold as tribute from the lords. Misfortune seldom travels alone; the warlike Birkes people also emerged from their dense forests, intent on trying their luck in the fray.

　　A group of servants, originally blacksmiths by trade, raised the banner of the Willem King upon the ramparts. Under the command of a certain leader, their valiant stand caught the attention of the Birkes. They then used honeyed words to deceive the forest warriors into heading north, where they clashed with the assembled armies of the lords.

　　In battle, these Birkes people entrusted their safety solely to large shields and the physical presence of their comrades; yet, when they found their protection failing under a dizzying hail of arrows, they instantly scattered like startled birds. Following their defeat and retreat at Surbert, the royal servants used the momentum of their victory to secure their freedom from the hands of the weak King.

　　In the west, the people of Scoro once again rallied under the banner of Feriatino, launching an offensive against the barbarians stationed on the northern bank. Commanding this coalition was Beritri Nerdin, a calm and valiant veteran of countless campaigns. Embracing the ancient maxim that a general in the field may disregard a sovereign’s ill-conceived orders, he cast aside the impractical directives emanating from Riscalo. He was determined to wait until the barbarians’ patience and supplies were utterly exhausted at Bechim before launching his strike—a strategy born of a profound and masterful understanding of the tactical balance between the two forces.

　　Shielded by the expanse of a lake, the Limidians were able to utilize small boats for close reconnaissance and launch sudden, harassing raids, providing the general with the necessary leverage to execute his maneuvers. However, Gergad, the Master of Internal Affairs, issued a decree in the Lord’s name: if Beritri did not launch an immediate assault, the rear would cease all further shipments of grain and fodder to the front lines.

　　Upon receiving word that the supplies from the southern lords would not reach the northern quays in time, Beritri turned in desperation to Raulbis, the commandant of Riscalo, for aid. To his utter shock, however, Raulbis simply set Beritri’s plea aside, ignoring it entirely.

　　Left with no hope of reinforcement or relief, Beritri was forced into a desperate gamble for a swift victory. He launched his assault against the barbarian host, charging at the very vanguard of the formation, clad in the Lord’s livery and armor, with two loyal friends at his side. The populace on the southern bank had lulled themselves into a false sense of security, believing the canals and lake provided an impenetrable barrier—until the horrific news reached them: the victorious barbarians were dancing joyfully around the corpse of the Limidian general. Only then did they tremble in terror, fearing the enemy would soon sweep across the waters.

　　However, the victorious barbarians neither crossed the water nor continued their eastward march. The tribal throngs began to clamor against their chieftains, arguing that it was better to return home with their looted spoils than to provoke and confront more Limidian armies—especially since the warm climate of this region threatened them with infectious diseases.

　　When news of the defeat reached Riscalo, those in high office thought first of settling scores with their rivals. Raulbis stood in the Great Hall, launching a scathing condemnation that laid the entire blame for the failure at the feet of Gergad and his faction. Under the pretext of investigating the withholding of supplies from the front, he began his final purge of Gergad.

　　The last will of the late Count Vidalim, the corpse of Beritri, the report of the coalition's defeat, and the orders Gergad had dispatched to the front in the Lord’s name—all were transformed into damning evidence of a crime. However, while his comrades at the front had looked desperately to Raulbis for salvation, his unexpected silence left a lingering shadow of doubt upon his true stance.

　　The executioner’s blade and the noose might offer a fleeting solace to the living and the souls of the dead, but they could not save the state. Desiano was forced to abdicate, and his successor, Libisis, proved to be yet another impotent ruler. Aware that he possessed neither the talent for governance nor the strength to restrain his powerful ministers, Libisis and his brothers whittled away their days in a succession of trivial amusements. For a long time thereafter, Feriatino maintained a posture of cold indifference toward the world beyond its borders.

　　Out of respect and nostalgia for Vidalim, people came to view his death as a form of divine mercy. His passing ensured that his memory remained forever frozen at the height of his glory. Surely, the Count would never know how the great work of his life was squandered by the treacherous hands of ambitious ministers and the decadence of his incompetent heirs.

　　The populace of the Great Highlands never received the substantive aid promised by Vidalim. These lands, once the personal domain of the King, now sat fragmented in the hands of local magistrates whose only remaining skill was ensuring that the farmers stayed on the land to continue their toil.

　　In the wake of Feriatino’s military failure, Kabisaris took up the mantle of resistance against the barbarians. Through grueling day-and-night marches, his army reached Bivol ahead of the horde, striking the barbarian flank. As he drove them back toward Labini, the fully mobilized forces of the Western Towns departed Trabinon and launched their own strike, finally delivering a crushing blow to the invaders.

　　Flushed with victory, Marquis Kabisaris—now known as Leitmur—paraded his barbarian captives and hoisted his triumphant banners. Hand-in-hand with the lords of the Western Towns, he entered the Highland District and proceeded without hindrance to Hedlim. Within the halls of the Willem Court, Marquis Leitmur delivered a stirring oration, vowing to restore the authority of the King and the rule of law.

　　Under his call to action, the magistrates of the Great Highlands reaffirmed their duties, bringing a brief season of peace and stability to the people. In the King’s name, he assisted the Eastern frontier lords in restoring their defensive lines, demanding they uphold royal law to prevent internal power struggles from inviting another barbarian incursion. For this, Leitmur earned the deep respect of the Highland people, and his alliance with the Western lords deterred those with treacherous designs from acting.

　　However, this tranquility withered with the passing of Marquis Kabisaris. The restless lords of Scoro moved swiftly to seize his legacy. The lesser lords, now stripped of the Marquis’s protection, found themselves menaced by the great magnates, poised to be swallowed whole at any moment.

　　While Sirleid and Binehes watched with cold detachment, the frontier lords gathered their armies to march eastward. But upon reaching the city of Deberas in Sirleid, they found the gates barred and the local citizenry in a defiant battle posture. Just as it seemed war was inevitable, the frontier lords withdrew after a series of negotiations. The new Marquis thus lost his final pillar of support. With the prestige of the lords extinguished, the King’s law became a dead letter, and the escalating wave of annexations once again cast a shadow over the Great Highlands.

　　Yet, this crisis ignited a fierce spark within the Highlands. In the eyes of the people, as subjects under the rule of the Sun God, they were bound to act rather than beg for mercy or protection. They realized that by pooling their collective wisdom, a solution could be found; if the farmer felt secure, he could work the land in peace, thereby ensuring sufficient grain reserves.

　　Nigaled and Daryl were the first to act. The former had not forgotten the transgressions of insolent lords against its citizens, while the latter had only recently escaped a siege through the sheer luck of a torrential downpour.

　　Raising the King’s banner, they rallied others to their cause. Driven by mutual anxiety and the efforts of capable men, they forged an alliance to safeguard their external security. Within the fiefs of the magistrates, citizens now answered the summons of their leaders at appointed times of the year, gathering in city squares or marketplaces.

　　Though these mass assemblies were often boisterous and clamorous, the Citizens' Assembly spared no effort in addressing every detail, no matter how trivial. Their goal was to ensure that the elected representatives and officials truly served the collective safety and common interest, satisfying the needs of the rich and the poor alike.

　　The magistrate served as the organizer of the assembly. This body, composed of wealthy citizens, was initially regarded as holding the King’s authority, capable of deciding on matters of taxation, law, and military affairs. The appointment and dismissal of officials and representatives were also subject to the assembly, with the magistrate signing the formal orders to give them effect.

　　The elected officials and representatives, knowing they bore a heavy burden of trust, never slackened in their duties. The soldiers were inspired and returned to rigorous and demanding drills. Spirited young men joined the military to defend their homes, injecting new vitality into an otherwise indolent army. Moderate tax policies ensured the people felt no undue burden; farmers and artisans could devote themselves to their labors, and after satisfying their daily needs, all remaining products were dedicated to the needs of defense.

　　Eloquent representatives traveled tirelessly between the fiefs and cities of the Highland District, forging mutual aid treaties based on collective security. To distinguish themselves and represent their identity, they used banners with various patterns as city emblems. Those lords on whom the Highland people had once pinned their hopes were the first to show suspicion and resentment toward them, accusing these people of daring to act recklessly on the land of the Sun God and of usurping the privilege of the banner—a right reserved only for the royalty and the nobility.

　　The frail eastern frontier towns, following the barbarian wars, were fortunate enough to receive assistance from the lords of Scoro, remarkably reclaiming their former territories and gradually rebuilding certain defensive structures. The lords of the western frontier remained vigilant and cooperated with their compatriots, guarding the Limidian borders and maintaining a harmonious and peaceful relationship with the Khorol tribes.

　　During this time, to eliminate potential threats, the lords of the Western Towns, in the name of mutual security, joined forces with the Khorol tribes and crossed the frontier walls to launch an operation against Halaishan in the east. They defeated the army of Akuburi and returned laden with spoils; this chieftain had long been a pillar of barbarian strength.

　　After he died from severe wounds, his two sons vied for his legacy, resorting to the aid of neighboring tribes. Two bloody battles at Husa and Mairu resulted in heavy barbarian casualties, easing the anxieties of the Limidians and leaving the Khorol tribes satisfied with the profits they reaped from the chaos.

　　Husa was once again destroyed in the flames of war, only beginning to recover on its original ruins once Huruhan returned to peace. The new rulers studied Limidian fortification techniques, building wooden defensive walls around the marketplace for protection. Unfortunate Mairu, however, suffered utter annihilation. The victorious barbarian leader, fearing a comeback by his rivals, burned the city to ashes until the land grew over with grass, leaving almost no trace for passersby to prove that this had once been a flourishing center of barbarian rule.

　　The victorious barbarians sent messengers to the Limidians. Though their posture was humble and their etiquette flawless, the envoys still claimed to the lords’ subordinates that ten thousand households of nomadic herders followed the Great Chieftain’s command. The people’s fears were confirmed some time later when a barbarian envoy presented a short sword and a felt hat to the Lord—the former signifying confrontation and the latter symbolizing submission. After seeing off the envoy, the Lord dispatched the eloquent Esokel to the east to seek aid.

　　The sharp-witted Esokel was a bankrupt Pandirian merchant who had sought refuge at the estate of Count Fastli of Lexbol when he had no other choice. Through his meticulous nature, he won the Count’s favor. He had once ventured into barbarian territory to gather intelligence but was spotted; barbarian riders pursued and wounded him in the shoulder with an arrow. They stripped him of his clothes, searching for valuables before binding him tightly.

　　With a sudden flash of wit, Esokel told them that he was being pursued because their leader suspected him of stealing a jewel. He warned that if he were delivered to the leader, he would insist that the rider had already found the jewel and swallowed it to keep it for himself. If so, his master would surely cut open the rider’s belly to retrieve the gem.

　　Terrified, the rider released Esokel, allowing him to return safely to Lexbol and deliver critical intelligence to Count Fastli. The Count issued a war alarm. Meanwhile, the vital information obtained through such peril was carried by swift couriers to Scoro and the Highland District.

　　In the King’s name, the Highlands quickly assembled a coalition force. Banners of every design appeared on the plains of Scoro—bearing images of animals and plants, as well as symbols of the gods. Their orderly ranks grew from daily training and mutual trust. The lords might remain indifferent to the level of their drills, but they could not help but admire their close cooperation.

　　These alliance soldiers made full use of their leisure time for military training. Sons of wealthy houses practiced mounted combat and archery, while those from common families practiced Cuju (kickball), tug-of-war, and the use of the spear. Cuju was a team sport that built physical endurance and required close cooperation between teammates; tug-of-war was a test of strength, and the spear was a cheap yet highly effective weapon.