To expel the barbarians, the arrogant lords ultimately decided to form a temporary military union with these "audacious" commoners. The army advanced in two separate columns, crossing the frontier to strike simultaneously at both flanks of the barbarian line. One barbarian host, seeing that their opponents consisted largely of infantry armed with spears, felt a surge of confidence and decided to challenge this Highland League force head-on. However, the Limidians protected their ranks with sharpened stakes they carried with them and unleashed a display of precision archery. In the fierce engagement that followed, the League did not retreat a single step.

　　The sudden appearance of the lords' coalition on their flanks made the barbarians realize they could not sustain a confrontation on two fronts at once. Their best hope lay in regrouping with their supreme commander and allied forces. Eventually, a massive barbarian united front appeared before the battle lines. Three formidable tribal chieftains took the field, one of whom was recognized for his mastery of command and appointed as the overall leader of the barbarian host.

　　Yet, whether driven by pure hubris or some private grudge, a chieftain named Gulba ignored the supreme commander’s orders. Acting on his own whim, he led his personal tribesmen and followers in a reckless charge against the Limidians, launching a furious assault on the infantry lines. On the other wing, a chieftain named Leda displayed a posture of caution and cooperation; as he engaged the enemy, he maintained constant communication with the supreme commander’s forces to coordinate their movements.

　　The infantry of the Highland League drove their sharpened stakes into the earth at an angle, creating makeshift fortifications capable of blunting any frontal cavalry charge. Within these lines, the archers were positioned to inflict significant casualties while providing reliable cover. The wood for these stakes was easily sourced and the construction simple; yet, when combined with their superior spirit and discipline, they effectively compensated for the inherent disadvantages of infantry in open terrain, maximizing their lethality and efficiency. Meanwhile, the cavalry waited for the opportune moment to strike—these sons of wealthy families proved they were no less fearless in the face of battle's peril. Even the proud lords, refusing to be outshone, deployed their own formations to measure their strength against the barbarians.

　　To his utter astonishment, Gulba found his forces unable to breach the enemy lines. After the initial engagement, Leda suggested a strategic withdrawal, arguing that they should lure the Limidians away to overextend their supply lines. However, the promise of a strategic marriage alliance swayed the chieftain to abandon this plan; he chose instead to follow the supreme commander’s host, prepared to launch a fresh assault at dawn. For their part, the Limidians shortened their infantry front, positioning their cavalry in the rear and on the flanks to serve as a rapid-response "fire brigade" or to pivot the tide of battle at a decisive moment.

　　During the second clash, Gulba fled the field in a cowardly disgrace. His own soldiers, in a desperate bid to rescue their headstrong leader, were ensnared in a Limidian encirclement and cut down by spears and arrows. The panicked chieftain galloped for a vast distance, only reining in when his horse began to froth at the mouth. He looked back to find only two riders remaining in his wake—and soon, even they vanished. Having cowardly escaped the blades of the Limidians, Gulba ultimately met an ignominious end at the hands of a band of common brigands.

　　Realizing that compromise was no longer an option, the barbarian supreme commander prepared for a last stand, a desperate struggle to carve out a path for survival. Representatives from the Highland League appeared at the lords’ camp; their deferential posture and humble words temporarily mollified the aristocrats’ egos, making them willing to cooperate with the commoners to extinguish the final embers of barbarian resistance.

　　In the third engagement, the Limidians abandoned their reserves and boldly deployed a broad, elongated battle line. The first rank consisted primarily of infantry, with the Highland League militia bolstered by heavy pikemen, flanked by the lords’ own cavalry. The noble sons of the League’s cavalry occupied the second rank, stationed directly behind their infantry comrades. The third rank comprised the lords and their elite guards, alongside several representatives of the Urban Alliance. This formation served a clear purpose: to facilitate a sweeping envelopment of the barbarian flanks. Leda advised focused strikes on the junction where the enemy’s cavalry and infantry met, hoping to tear a gap in the first line.

　　Yet, the supreme commander remained obstinate, insisting on a direct assault against the infantry ranks. As the battle commenced, a Limidian officer named Delir, acting on the lords’ command, galloped alone from the ranks. Arming himself with an exquisite longbow, he loosed an arrow into the opposing host, unhorsing a chieftain standing beside the supreme commander. The Limidian lines immediately erupted in a roar like thunder. Incensed by this provocation, the supreme commander ordered an all-out charge.

　　Slaves were deployed at the very vanguard of the barbarian charge, intended only to blunt the Limidians' blades; however, the moment the fighting began, these men cast aside their weapons and scattered in every direction. Shamed once again before his army, the supreme commander signaled the charge with a blast of horns, and the entire barbarian host hurtled toward the Limidians. The wretched souls caught in the middle were utterly decimated beneath the clashing steel of the two great armies.

　　The pinning down of the barbarian formations provided the Limidians with a golden tactical opportunity. However, the general commanding the heavy pikemen seemed loath to fight alongside the Urban Alliance, refusing to provide them with necessary cover. This forced the second-line cavalry to commit to the fray prematurely to bolster the loosening infantry ranks. Despite this, the Limidians' confidence remained unshaken; the conviction to crush their foes and defend their hearths ultimately triumphed over the desperate, cornered-animal bravery of the barbarians—who, in any case, had already squandered much of their combat strength in the preceding clashes.

　　For the first time in many years, the Limidians set foot in Huruhan as victors, driving the barbarians back. Exhilarated, the lords dispersed their troops to secure more spoils and cut off the enemy’s retreat, while the Highland League pursued for a measured distance. After honorably burying their fallen comrades, the League’s army remained on-site to await supplies and, in the name of the King’s Special Envoys, dispatched messengers to the western lords.

　　Upon receiving a formal, if guarded, affirmation, they bid farewell to the lords and departed the steppes. However, the castellan of Vigaristburg met them with deep-seated suspicion and vigilance, forcing the Highland League to disband a portion of their army. Leaving only a small contingent to declare their identity, they finally managed to enter the Hemira Corridor, where they were met with cold indifference from the lords but a rapturous welcome from the common people.

　　As they moved beyond the corridor and into the territory of the Western Towns, the lord’s army stationed at Kedari spotted the unmistakable royal insignia from their towering watchtowers. They were soon struck by the sight of the myriad of other banners following behind—divine symbols intermingled with patterns of weapons, animals, and plants. As the column drew nearer, the sharpened stakes lashed to the soldiers' backs drew equally curious stares.

　　The last army to pass this way had been Kabisaris and his allies. That Marquis had been a direct vassal of the crown, his ancestors having received the King’s own mandate to guard the eastern passage to the Highlands.

　　While the lords and receiving officials were stunned by their arrival, the local citizens greeted them with thunderous cheers. Magistrate Denoris even dipped into his own purse to host chariot races in honor of the eastern representatives and the triumph over the barbarians. In contrast, the Count of Palmidoros maintained a haughty posture in his capital; refusing to recognize their status as lords or as King’s envoys, he received the League’s representatives with the mere etiquette reserved for common magistrates.

　　With the external threat extinguished, the Limidian lords maintained a cautious peace for over a decade. During this time, people weighed every word and deed, fearing that any rash act might reignite confrontation. For some, however, peace was merely a veil used to prepare for the next war. Flying the banners of unity and peace, they gathered at Carino, the capital of Des, to sign a treaty of dubious intent amidst the uninformed and hopeful expectations of the public.

　　The existence of the Highland League had long been a thorn in the side of the lords, who wished for nothing more than to see it uprooted. They were particularly shaken by the League's performance against the barbarians. Thus, the war of words preceded the war of blades. The arrogant nobility accused the commoners of shamelessly stealing the fruits of victory; the citizens countered by loudly proclaiming that they had earned their respect through heroic combat, while the insidious nobles had refused to lend a hand at the most critical moments, hoping the barbarians would do their dirty work and eliminate their fellow countrymen.

　　The nobility rested their legitimacy on family renown and bloodlines, while the Highland League marched under the banner of public will. Consequently, no reconciliation could be reached through debate; the friction only served to deepen the animosity and heighten tensions, providing a grand, self-righteous pretext for the coming conflict. The verbal sparring soon stripped away its veneer of civility, devolving into blunt insults and slander. When status and consequences no longer held men back, military confrontation followed.

　　The lords' officials marched through the streets reading manifestos of war, while the League’s citizens gathered in the squares at the sound of alarm bells. Yet, whether noble or commoner, they all offered their sacrifices and fervent prayers to the very same God.

　　The lords guarding the frontier walls and the Hemira Corridor had maintained close cooperation and contact due to the shared threat of the barbarians. However, once the barbarian alarms were silenced and the unusual signals began to echo from Scoro in the east, they adopted a facade of detachment. Under the pretext of remaining vigilant against the barbarians, they in fact kept a predatory watch on the eastern situation, waiting for any opportunity to strike.

　　During the Willem era, the sovereigns had granted a portion of the northwestern highlands to two brothers of a cadet branch, founding Levosil and Molesates. Alongside a distinguished commander, these kinsmen had collectively defended the security of the Great Highlands and the dignity of the Willem Dynasty. Yet, the descendant of that commander, Marquis Kabisaris, issued a proclamation of neutrality in the name of peace.

　　The emergence of the Highland League had always been a source of loathing for the royal scions. To them, these audacious commoners had committed a sacrilege against the divine and usurped the sovereign's power, plundering the heritage of the Willem Dynasty. Sirleid was the most radical opponent; Marquis Stiam, a royal descendant, tirelessly dispatched envoys to travel between the various lords.

　　The envoys of the frontier lords appeared in the Great Hall with impeccable timing, maintaining a resolute posture before the Marquis, feigning a shared vigilance and disdain for the citizens' league. Yet, a short time later, these same envoys secretly established contact with the Assembly of the Highland League, intending to reap the spoils of the conflict by playing both sides.

　　Once the royal descendants secured either substantive or superficial support, they hoisted high the banner of "Protecting the King." With the passage of time and constant strife, people might have momentarily forgotten the story of Sirimus. He was Stiam’s grandfather, who had once been escorted to the Great Highlands by a lord’s army. He had stayed only a single night in the palace at Hedlim before being woken the next dawn by the shocking news of his army's defeat.

　　At that time, Sirimus had not even held his coronation before he was forced to accept the harsh demands presented by the envoys of Kabisaris. When this "usurper" finally departed, no one was even willing to provide him with a carriage or horses. Later, in resisting the barbarian invasions, the royal scions had defended the last dignity of the Willem name with valor and blood; two noble members fell beneath the maces and arrows of the barbarians, preserving the family’s renown and winning the praise of the people. Now, this latest royal descendant turned his sword once again toward the Great Highlands.

　　The eastern lords, benefiting from their geography, enjoyed a peaceful existence far from the fray. The fierce steppe cavalry, led by their ambitious chieftains, had never ventured this far; even the rabble in the woods could only cause a flicker of panic among an otherwise indolent populace. Tiar, the gateway to the Pandirian lands and a window into western affairs, was firmly held by a magistrate under Count Kores of Feriatino. Kores lived a life as austere as a monk's, watching the impending western storm with cold indifference.

　　In the far east, Nor remained perpetually vigilant against the fickle tribes of the forest. However, the newly-appointed Lord of Nor, citing the aid their western compatriots had once provided in expelling enemies, dispatched two companies of one hundred men. Yet, the sheer distance meant they failed to join the primary campaign. While resting briefly at Griris and preparing to board ships, they received news of the lords' army’s defeat.

　　After a brief consultation, the commanding officer decided to proceed. Although they could not reverse the defeat, the timely appearance of this Nor unit upon the walls of Salostini deterred the eager citizens from making a rash move, thereby preserving a shred of dignity for the vanquished lords.